A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews… I say it at the beginning on every new post but I mean it. Stick with it… you might be a bit bemused soon but slowly it will all knit together!

RR

Chapter 13- Animals

The room was dark, no lanterns on, no candles flickering, drapes drawn closed to hide him away from his ever closer doom. The thought of the light penetrating into the room was enough, now, to make him shiver with dread. The patron's were talking about pulling out, and the cast was unsettled. If the patron's did not pull out Lefevre would almost certainly lose his job.

He sighed, felt the familiar ache in his heart. He might seem like a fool to the people around him but he was no idiot. Life had always been good to him before, blessing him with a pleasant disposition. It all started to take a downward turn just over three years ago. The first murder, the first demands for payment.

At least then, though, the sound of murder had people queuing expectantly around the block. At least then business was good for the famous Opera Populair.

Now what was left was a shell of it's former glory, a hollow case of the thing that he had always loved the most. It was his joy, his passion, his truth... this opera house and now, to see what it had become, broke him.

The knock at the door startled him, he was not expecting any company and was half tempted not to call the visitor in. Paranoia kicked in again and he sat up straight, with a small groan escaping his throat, what if it was the theatre patron?

'Come in,' he said, making no attempt to neaten himself up.

Antoinette Giry walked in, head held proud as always, and she looked around her. 'Good grief, Monsieur Lefevre,' she said, sounded astonished as she walked to the window. 'You can not sit in the dark all day and wallow in self pity,'

She threw open the long drapes and the spring sunlight gushed into the room like a waterfall of brightness. He squinted against the angry glare, holding his hand up to shade his eyes, allowing them time to adjust.

'What are you doing?' she asked, her face full of bewilderment. She did not understand, how could she? He was a failure.

'I am sitting in the dark,' he said, looking around him. 'Or at least... I was,'

'Why?' she demanded.

'I liked it better than the sun,' he said simply. What did she want from him?'

Her eyes set upon his face and for a moment an uncomfortable shiver crept along his spine. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and even; 'Monsieur Lefrevre, what this opera house does not need at this moment in time if you falling apart, do you understand that?'

He said nothing, what was there to say?

'A manager is supposed to bring structure and guidance yet you choose to give in,' she continued.

He felt an unusual anger simmer in him. 'What?' he said. 'Do you want my job?'

This time it was Madame Giry's turn to remain silent. It was a different silence, he noted, different to the one he had given. Her silence was full of confidence not uncertainty. She was waiting for him to continue to speak, to explain himself.

'We are three weeks into the new show and our ticket sales have dwindled to the point where I am considering pulling the show,' he said simply, a sigh of resignation allowed to part his lips. 'We have no pull anymore... part of me... most of me thinks this place would make a much better museum...'

'Don't be foolish,' Madame Giry snapped.

'Why foolish?' he asked. 'Why is it foolish to want what is best for this theatre?'

'What is best for this theatre is commitment,'

He shook his head. 'I have always been committed to it's well being, you know that as well as anyone,' he let his head drop into his hands, despair washing through him. 'It is my child,'

'Then nurture it,'

'How?' he snapped back, head up now, staring at her. 'How can you nurture something that is already dead?'

Giry's eyes glowed with anger. 'It is not dead but you are watching it die!'

'There is nothing I can do,'

'You have not even tried,'

He scowled. 'I try more than you know, everyday I try... everyday is an effort,'

'You are turning into a joke,'

'How dare you...'

'How dare I?' she growled. 'How dare I... what? Accuse you of doing exactly what it is that you are doing? How dare I stand up for this theatre when you have obviously given up any hope for it's survival?'

He fell silent, suddenly the churning in his stomach returned but the fire was gone. Why fight a losing battle? Perhaps she was right.

'What do I do?' he said quietly.

Antoinette's face grew somehow sympathetic as she looked at him. He welcomed her pity, as he would welcome any emotion in his life.

'Rescue her, Monsieur Lefevre,'

'How?'

She walked to the desk and pulled the chair out, sitting opposite him. She leaned across the table and looked at his face, into his eyes.

'You have to decide what the theatre needs,' she said. 'What any theatre needs,'

He paused, throat dry. 'Stars,'

She nodded, 'Vibrant, spectacular, stars,'

'But how do we get them here?'

She stared at him.

'How do you get a huge star to appear at a flawed and failing theatre?' he continued.

'Their egotistical nature, Monsieur Lefevre,'

Finally, he felt his heart thump and a smile press against his mouth. 'Of course,' he whispered. 'Only they can bring the Opera Populair back to it's glory days!! Of course...'

Antoinette Giry stood and smiled down at him. 'It is not over until it is over, remember that,'

'I will,' he said, also getting to his feet. 'I need to send some telegraphs,'

'Good luck' she said as she reached the door.

'I will most probably need it,' he said to no one but himself as the door closed behind her.

Left alone with the silence of the room once more, his initial elation was overtook by sadness again.

This was probably the opera populairs last chance and he knew that they needed to get it right. The biggest stars would certainly draw the biggest crowds but his problem was making the Opera Popular draw in the biggest stars.

And then there was the small matter of the Phantom of the Opera.

Gabriele Aiton stood outside the door of the house on the outskirts of Paris. Louis had been in with the 'subject' for over half an hour and there was still no sign of either of them... or the money. He had heard clattering and banging around, a few yells but nothing of much consequence. It was making him more and more nervous by the second.

Gabriele glanced down at his pocket watch and noted another five minutes had come and gone. He stepped towards the door and pushed it open with his fingertips. Stepping inside he saw blood on the wall but no sign of Louis or the subject.

'Louis,' he called out, walking through the small hallway into the kitchen.

'In here,' came the other man's reply. 'In the pantry,'

Gabriele stepped over a small pool of blood and pushed the door open to the pantry. Louis' broad shoulder's cast a wide shadow over the subject, who was lying, face caked in blood, on his back. Gabriele winced at the sight of the bruises and blood, he was a strong man but never one for getting his hands dirty.

'Well?' he said, moving his eyes from the subject up to Louis.

Louis' dark eyes fixed on Gabriele and he shook his head. 'He still says he hasn't got the money,'

Gabriele sighed and reached down, lifting the man up by the scruff of his neck. 'This just won't do,' he said simply and then dropped him back to the floor.

He turned and walked out of the pantry. 'Louis, keep him there,'

He walked out of the house and onto the front garden, which was modest by anyone's standards. It was fairly obvious that he had not put his loan to good use and judging by the stench in the house it was safe to assume the money had gone on alcohol.

Still, Gabriele knew the man had, had a win in a local gambling circuit a few days ago and therefore knew that the money was somewhere in the house.

Unfortunately, after turning it upside down, none had been found.

Walking up the garden path he straightened his jacket out and kicked the head off a small yellow flower at the side. When he arrived at the gate he took a deep breath and approached the carriage.

He knocked on the door and it swung open.

Gingerly he climbed inside and sat himself opposite Erik Lambourne. It was rare for him to come out in the daylight and it made Gabriele nervous when he did. It usually meant he had something unpleasant planned.

'And?' Erik asked, the white of his mask glimmering.

'He still tells us there is nothing there,'

Erik pursed his lips together and shook his head. 'And we are sure that he had these winnings?'

'Positive,' Gabriele said, feeling at least a little bit confident. A rarity in Erik's company.

He nodded and climbed out of the carriage.

By the time Gabriele had managed to scramble back out and up the path, Louis was leaving the house, closing the door behind him. Erik had gone in alone and Gabriele's stomach turned. For the first time he felt sympathy for the man in the house, not because he did not want to see him hurt, this did not bother men like Gabriele, but because he had seen what Erik was capable of.

When they had first entered into their agreement one of Gabriele's employees had stolen from Erik.

Erik broke his neck.

Just like that.

In front of everyone and with very little effort and absolutely no remorse, he simply snapped the man's neck with his bare hands. He shuddered at the thought as he looked back towards the house, wondering what horrors lay inside.

He heard a glass shattering scream pierce the tranquillity of the small village and then there was complete silence. Moments later Erik Lambourne walked out of the front door, hat pulled low, holding a bag full of coins.

'I have the money,' he said simply, walking past Louis and Gabriele, who had not said two words to each other while they waited.

Gabriele nodded at Erik.

Erik climbed into the carriage. 'Clean him up,'

Louis looked quizzically at Gabriele, who shrugged his shoulders in response. How on earth was he supposed to know what Erik had done to the man, or what mess they had to deal with now?

Louis took the lead and Gabriele simply followed, looking down at his stylish shoes and tailored trousers. Blood did not suit the new look, he thought, as he stepped back through into the kitchen.

It was when he heard the quiet whimper from the pantry that his head shot up and he looked at Louis in surprise. Louis frowned back and threw the door to the pantry open.

They were confronted by the subject who was in exactly the same position and state as he was when they had left him.

'Has... has...'

Gabriele stared at him. 'Speak man,' he demanded.

'The monster...' he swallowed. 'Has he gone..?'

Gabriele could not stop it.

The laugh that erupted was deep and hearty, he felt it vibrate through his soul. Erik Lambourne had many weapon's in his arsenal, and, apparently, his face was one of them too.