Chapter 34- Secret

Erik had decided that that evening was not the night to deal with his little problem. He decided, instead, to take a break in the afternoon for a little sleep. For once, sleep came easily to him and he had slept rather soundly. He was now sitting in the rafters high above the theatre waiting for Christine to enter for her final performance of 'Think of Me'. It was the only part of the entire Opera that he actually enjoyed.

Not that he would not watch Christine perform in anything, but really, Hannibal was not good enough for a theatre as famous as the Opera Populaire... even if it was having a bad run.

When she walked onto the stage he felt the usual flutter in his chest, the twist in his stomach. His nervousness around her was barely contained but somehow he had always managed to keep his composure. When he watched her perform he could be the way he wanted to be.

Her voice soared over the audience, keeping them riveted to the show, he closed his eyes and let her voice soothe him but it didn't have it's usual effect. Something was different tonight, something had changed in her voice, in the way she moved across the stage. She did not seem quite so sure of her movements, of her actions and, mostly, of her voice.

He had only seen her that morning and she had been fine, her voice had sounded almost too good, and now the change- at least to him- was dramatic.

Erik's eyes wandered around the auditorium and then focused on the Box one, where the De Chagny's were taking in the last show. Raoul, the younger brother, did not look his usual self either. Something in his eyes was off but his focus was clearly on Christine, his old sweetheart.

He felt something sharp in his chest and then a burning build from his stomach. He did not like the way Raoul's eyes never left Christine, even when Philippe De Chagny attempted to speak to him. Something was very wrong here.

Was he missing Christine? Raoul had been to visit her and she had ushered him away, perhaps he had been there since. Running his fingers through his hair Erik let his eyes move back to Christine. To her credit she looked out over the full audience, her eyes did not drift towards the box, it did not waiver from its focus at the back of the room.

He would like to think that he was reading too much into what he was seeing but Erik was not a great believer in coincidences.

The fact that Christine was not herself coupled with the fact that Raoul was obviously not quite himself, set Erik on edge.

There was no such thing as coincidence.

The final night was going well but Antoinette could see that the managers were getting very nervous. They had made there decision, though, she thought, and now they must live with it. Tonight was the last performance of Hannibal before the opening of Il Muto the following evening. There was not break for them, no time to breath, the costumes were finished, there would be one final rehearsal, and then it would begin.

Erik liked to test his new managers.

Monsieur Andre was behind the curtain not from away from her, looking around him and Monsieur Firmin was near the Orchestra pit doing the same. She knew what they were looking for, of course, they were looking for the Ghost. Her head tilted upwards slightly and she looked out, beyond the grand chandelier, to where she knew he would be sitting.

Sure enough, he was watching the performance carefully from one of the beams above the grand circle. She did not dare look for too long, in case someone caught her staring, but it was good to see him staying with old habits.

As if on cue, Gilles Andre walked towards her. 'The show is going well,' he said.

She nodded but said nothing.

'Are you going to continue this?' he asked, referring to her almost silent treatment of the two managers.

'What?' she asked, acting as if she had no idea what he was talking about. He sighed. "We are the managers here,' he said, quite firmly.

'You are fools,'

'We could fire you,' he said sharply, but it was an empty threat and they both knew it.

'You could,' she said, and left it there.

'We have to keep some control over this theatre, Madame Giry, surely you can understand that,'

She simply stared at him. There was no answer to his statement because, in a way, he was right, but she knew that this would all end very messily. She knew Erik well, too well, perhaps, and with this came a knowledge of his vicious streak. Erik had given them fair warning, something he did not do very often, if they did not heed it then they would simply have to deal with the consequences.

'Help us beat him,' Monsieur Andre said, breaking the silence.

She arched her eyebrows at him. 'Beat him?' she asked.

'Yes,' he said.

That was when she started to laugh. It wasn't loud at first but the more she thought about it the funnier it became. It had been a while since she had laughed so heartily but it was there, rumbling from her stomach. She placed her hand on the wall, tears rolled down her cheeks and she fought for her breath.

By the time the laughs started to fade from her, Monsieur Andre was looking at her with confusion in his eyes. He did not speak until she had stopped completely.

'What is it?' he asked. 'What is so funny?'

'Beat him,' she said simply.

'I believe we can,' he said, with conviction.

'That,' she began. 'Is why it is so funny,'

Then she simply turned and walked away.

'Bravo, bravo,' Christine paused in the hallway and tried to pinpoint where she had heard the voice before. It was coming from behind her, it was deep and smooth but not as rich as Erik's nor as well spoken as Raoul's.

Slowly she turned to face the origin of the voice and immediately recognised the man who had taken her father's home... who had taken her home. She felt her pulse quicken as she backed away from him, not wanting to see him, not wanting this terrible flashback.

Still, he walked towards her, his long legs gaining on her fast. She could tell from his face that he was trying hard not to be threatening but to her, he would always be the man who ruined her life. Christine only stopped backing away when she hit a wall and she no longer had anywhere to back away to.

'I don't want to hurt you,' he commented as he leant against the wall next to her... too close for comfort. She tried not to flinch when he smiled but she could not help it.

'What do you want then?' she asked, staring at him but at the same time trying desperately to shrink away.

'I saw your performance,' he smiled, as if that explained anything.

'A lot of people did,'

His smile widened and she felt a chill run along her spine. 'Do you remember my name?'

'Gabriele,' Without hesitation, she remembered him all to well. She remembered thinking how handsome he was, how smart he looked, how tall he seemed... her memory also clung to her hatred of him, the snake who took her home.

He nodded, as if she had answered correctly in class. 'I enjoyed your performance,' he said, putting his hand in his pocket, trying to look casual. 'You were very... enlightening,'

'What do you want?' she asked, trying to keep her breathing even in an attempt to show that she was not afraid of him.

'I wanted to see you,'

'Why?'

'To compliment you on a tremendous show,'

She shrugged, 'I was not the only person in the show,' she blinked away from his gaze. 'Monsieur Piangi's dressing room is just along the corridor to the left,'

'Ah,' Gabriele pushed himself away from the wall. 'But he is not nearly as good to look at as you,'

'Does that line work on a lot of woman, Monsieur?' she made the sarcasm in her voice thick. It was true that she was afraid and though he probably knew it, she was not about to show it.

'Funnily,' he stepped a little closer. 'It does,'

She slid along the wall, away from him, 'What do you really want?'

For a moment he did not say anything, he let his blue eyes look around him and then settle back on her. The room was dark but she could see him clearly, she could see his clean cut look, sharp expensive clothes, neat hair. It made you want to trust him when you first met him, his softness of voice gave you comfort... the man was an eel.

'We have a mutual friend,' he finally said, brushing the dust from the bricks from his jacket.

'And that is why you're here?' she asked.

He half nodded. 'Well, as it happens, we have two mutual friends,'

'Two,' she said, staring at him. 'How about that...'

'You know Louis,' he stated.

'Not particularly well,' she answered, beginning to feel a nervous pulse throughout her body.

'He's a good friend of mine,' Gabriele continued. 'Louis, that is,'

'Shame,' she said quickly. 'He seemed like such a nice gentleman,'

'He is nice,' Gabriele smiled again. 'Once you get to know him properly... still, I wouldn't cross him, if you get what I mean,'

'I'm not sure that I want to get what you mean,' she swallowed hard. 'I'd like you to leave now,'

'Sorry,' he said, making a small shrug of his shoulders and wincing his face as if it was painful to say. 'I can't do that,'

'Why not?'

'We need to discuss our other mutual friend,' he said.

Christine shook her head and tried to move past him but he blocked her easily. 'I don't think we have anything to discuss,'

'Are you sure about that?' he looked down at her, his eyes intense.

'Positive,' she said and managed to move past him.

'I'm only trying to save you,' he said.

'From what exactly?' she asked, still walking away.

'Our mutual friend,'

'Stop saying that,' she glanced over her shoulder at him. He was watching her.

He nodded. 'Fine,' he said. 'Then let us talk about Erik Lambourne,'

She stopped moving, felt her heart plunge into her stomach. Every nerve ending felt exposed, as if she could feel the air moving on her skin.

'What about him?'

'He is my friend,'

'He is no one's friend,' she said.

Gabriele laughed and it was not a pleasant sound. 'Ah, so you know him a little better than I thought,'

'I know him well enough,'

'If he is no one's friend,' Gabriele tilted his head. 'What is he to you?'

'My teacher,' she responded, a little too quickly. She saw Gabriele's cruel smile and had to turn away from it. With her back to him she debated ending the conversation but she knew that she could not, she needed to know now. 'Your teacher,' he said. 'Of course,'

'What?'

'Nothing,' he coughed. 'You're just... very defensive,'

'I like him,' she explained. 'I am allowed to like my teacher, aren't I?'

'Right,' he said.

'So he is not our mutual friend after all,' Christine felt a lift at saying this.

'No,' Gabriele said, his voice suddenly very cold. 'He is your teacher and my business associate,'

She spun around. 'What?'

'You didn't think that he simply taught you all day and then disappeared into darkness did you?'

'Of course not,' her voice was hoarse.

'He owns your father's house,' Gabriele said, Christine felt the punch in her chest. 'Rents it out, makes a nice little return,'

'Why are you telling me this?' she asked.

'I thought you had a right to know,'

'You're a cruel man,'

'Aren't you glad I told you?' he asked, tilting his head again, looking at her as though she was a small child.

'No,' she said firmly.

He smiled. 'Oh well,'

She was about to say more, berate him, cry... she wasn't quite sure, when she heard footsteps behind her.

'What are you doing here?' it was not who she expected. She felt Madame Giry's arm wrap around her waist as she stood at her side.

'Looking lovely,' he said to her.

'Go away,' she said firmly.

He nodded and moved past them. 'I was just leaving,'

Christine felt a wave of nausea and she tried to hold herself against it. When Gabriele was at the end of the corridor he turned around. 'Goodbye ladies, have a pleasant evening,' and then he was gone.

Madame Giry looked at her with concern in her eyes. 'What did he do to you?'

'Nothing,' Christine croaked.

'Did he say why he was here?' she asked.

'To compliment me on my performance,' she said, feeling the words stick in her throat.

Madame Giry raised her eyebrows. 'He was intimidating you,'

'I suppose that's what he does,' her heart was beginning to ache, she wanted to be alone, to think.

'I'll walk you back to your room,' the older woman took her by her arm. 'Good grief, child, you're freezing,'

'Tired,' Christine managed to say.

'Lets get you to bed,' she said.

Bed, Christine thought, where I will lie awake and wonder how all of this happened to me.