I sat at the organ, furiously trying to get the song that had been filling my head since the previous day onto paper. Not wanting to wake Christine I had waited as long as I could before beginning to play, though I had slept very little the night before and was eager to begin.
Music had always fascinated me, from the time I was a small boy. It had been a big part of my upbringing. Though my mother had refused to look at me, refused to touch me, there had always been her singing, which had brought me close to her, despite her desire to be as far away from me as possible. Even when it was obvious that my talent far exceeded hers, I loved to hear her sing and play the piano. The many times that I was in trouble and forced to stay in my room I could still hear her playing and in some strange way it had never failed to comfort me.
I was trying in vain to ignore the thought of Christine in the other room and to concentrate on my score. Engrossed as I was in what I was doing, I never heard her approach. Pity that the organ had not been facing the other way, perhaps she never could have snuck up on me the way she did.
I did not realise what was happening at first. It always took me a moment to bring my focus away from my music when I was playing and as I felt the mask being pulled away I automatically turned around, giving Christine a perfect view of my monstrous face.
I doubt I will ever forget the look of horror on her face as she looked at me, the Angel of Music, unmasked. Her already pale face paled even further. Emotions whirled inside of me as I stared at her. I cannot recall having ever been that angry before, and I been angry plenty of times in my life.
But the betrayal I felt at the callous way she had torn my mask off practically undid me. I was hurt, angry and reacted as such. I tried to grab the mask back, but, terrified, she bolted, dashing across the room to get away from me. I had only one thought in my mind, take my mask back, to cover up my hideous face.
"Damn you!" I shouted. Ranting and raving I chased after her, trying to take the mask. Yes, I was angry at her for what she had done, but most of all I was angry at myself. Angry that I had to be such a loathsome creature, angry that there was no chance of Christine returning my love. But how could an angel like Christine ever love a demon such as myself?
Then she fell in front of my chair. Collapsing on the cold stone floor, she began sobbing.
"Damn you!" I said again, my voice cracking with emotion. I was panting. Christine looked up at me and whimpered, tears streaming down her face. She was obviously completely terrified. The look on her face cut me to the core and I dropped to my knees, a painful knot in my chest. I leaned forward, trying to cover my hideous face so she did not have to look at it anymore.
"You cannot even bear to look at me," I whispered. "Why did you do it, Christine? Why? You will never be able to think of me as anything but a freak, a monster, now. All I wanted was for you to see that behind the beast is just a man longing for beauty…" I crawled towards her, blindly trying to get to my mask, to the safety it provided. "You fear me now, and all I wished was that perhaps you could have learned to love me, the man behind the mask." Immediately I wished I could take the words back. I felt foolish, pathetic.
"Oh, Christine," I whispered appalled to realise that I was crying. I never cried, I had taught myself to hide my emotions from the time I first realised that I was different, a freak, that my mother was disgusted by me. My world was caving in around me, but I could do nothing but stay there, hunched on the floor.
I saw Christine move out of the corner of my eye and I jerked away from her. "Here," she said in her soft, melodic voice. She was holding the mask out to me, I noticed as I glanced over at her. There was silence as we looked at each other, then I cautiously reached my left hand out, trying to cover the right side of my face with my other hand. Christine stretched her arm out and I took the mask. I turned away from her and slipped it on. I stood and took a moment to calm myself before I turned around. She was still huddled on the ground, eyes wide.
"Go to your room," I said, my voice deceptively calm. Still she sat there, looking bewildered and upset. "Just go. Now," I repeated harshly.
She hurried to her feet and ran to her room, all too eager to get as far away from me as possible. With a sigh I walked over to the organ. I rested my hands on the back of my chair and my shoulders dropped and my head fell forward in despair. "Why, Christine? Why?" I whispered. Why had she done it? If I had ever thought before that she could ever care for me, that hope was dashed now.
I considered it nothing short of a miracle that the child had not run, screaming from the room to try to return to the outside world. She would not have gotten far, of course, but she did not know that.
It was shock, I decided. She was in shock and therefore unable to think properly.
With a sigh I bent down picked up the scattered sheets of parchment; the score that I had been writing. I glanced at the words I had written and smiled bitterly at the irony.
'Fear can turn to love, you'll learn to seeTo find the man behind the monster
Who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty, secretly'
Slowly I crumpled the piece of paper in my hand. I had never believed the words anyway.
I paced the room, trying to decide what to do. I had been angry enough at first to force her to stay here with me, to pay her back for her deceitfulness. But my anger was dissolving and I was merely tired.
The Opera's new show, to be performed the next Friday was an obscure little opera called Il Muto. Christine had been cast as the pageboy, which was a silent role. After her performance in Hannibal one would think it obvious to give her the lead, but when considering the dim-witted men that called themselves the managers, I was not sure it would be that simple. I had to know what was happening, so I left Christine shut in her room and traveled up to the Manager's office and took my place behind the large two-way mirror.
I was incensed when I saw that stupid, arrogant young man, the Vicomte, speaking with Monsieur Andre, who looked anxious. I was beginning to think that was his normal state.
"There is nothing further we can do, Vicomte. I have notified the police, they are looking into it and have found nothing. Now, I have more pressing matters to deal with, if you will pardon me."
"More pressing matters!" the Vicomte shouted. "Christine is missing!"
"Yes, and she may have just run away, for all we know. The police are taking care of it, but either way, we still have a show in a few days and we are currently without a lead. And as I highly doubt we will be able to pull a lead soprano out of our hats, something must be done. I have sent word to Signora Guidicelli, asking her to return for the lead in Il Muto."
Fools! I thought, fuming, as I turned to hurry back to my chambers. Idiots! They did not even realise what they had. Christine was a far superior singer than Carlotta, and now they had asked Carlotta to return.
Something had to be done, and it seemed like it was up to the Opera Ghost to take care of things…
X
Night had closed in on Paris as I left the streets and ventured back into the Opera House via the Rue Scribe entrance.
I was returning from having sent the last of four notes I had composed throughout the day. It was not hard to find a willing courier to deliver a letter, even for myself, if enough gold was presented.
Christine had not left her room all day and I had been happy to let her stay there. I had left some tea on a tray outside her door, with some bread and cheese and when I came by again the tray was empty.
I sighed as I came through the archway. I removed my hat, gloves and cloak and collapsed in my throne chair.
Christine would have to go back the next day, after everyone had a chance to receive their notes. After what had happened the day before I had been so angry I had felt like forcing her to stay here, to make her as miserable as I was. But I knew I could not, and would not, do that. I loved her too much for that, even though my love would never be reciprocated. And I could not ruin the career that was just beginning to blossom, the career that I had worked so hard to build.
With another sigh I stood and went into the kitchen to fix something to eat.
My food supply was running low, but it was almost time for my contact to bring supplies. Monsieur Charles Emond, who had worked with me during the building of the Opera house years ago had agreed to work for me after the Opera House was finished, bringing me supplies and other things I requested of him once a month for a hefty salary. He alone knew who I was, but he was sufficiently terrified of me and my reputation and I trusted that he would never betray me.
I fixed a quick meal and was about to call Christine when I heard a noise behind me. I turned to see Christine standing in the doorway. Her face was ashen, her wide eyes red-rimmed. I could not read the expression on her face. I assumed she was still horrified but hunger had forced her to find me.
"Good evening, Christine," I said formally.
She nodded but said nothing.
After I loaded a tray with food I started to walk past her. She scurried out of my way, no doubt she could not bear the thought that I might touch her.
A red hot flash of anger and hurt rushed through me, but I forced it down and set the tray on the table. Christine was standing a few feet away, watching me.
"You can eat in your room if you wish," I said sharply.
Christine shook her head and sat gingerly in the chair across from me.
There was nothing to say, so we ate in silence.
When we finished I gathered the dishes and went into the kitchen. From there I went straight to my room. No doubt she could find her own way back to her room and I had no desire to see the disgust in her eyes again.
X
The next morning I awoke early but stayed holed up in my room. I would take Christine back today and wait for my plan to unfold.
When I entered the main chamber Christine was standing forlornly at the organ. She glanced up at me and gave me a tiny smile, which I did not return.
I set the tea down and poured a cup. She sat across from me and fixed her tea.
"Come, Christine. We must return," I said when she finished. She looked up at me in surprise and, if I was not mistaken, relief. "Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you, and you will need to rehearse for Il Muto."
"But my part is the pageboy. It is silent," Christine pointed out.
"Yes, well, things may change," I said with a shrug.
She gave me an assessing look but did not reply. She was wearing her own dress again, evidently she did not want to wear something purchased for her by a monster.
My mood became progressively more foul as I led Christine back to the lake and into the boat. I rowed us back and we walked the five levels back to the mirror in her dressing room. I touch the mechanism that slid the mirror open and all but shoved her through it. She whirled around to face me, mouth open as if to speak, but I triggered the mirror and it slid back into place before she could.
Wondering if anyone had received their notes yet, I made my way to Box Five to leave my last note. As I placed it on the railing I glanced down at the stage. Madame Giry was standing at the edge of the stage, staring up at my box. She gasped and drew back as I stepped forward, making sure she saw my shadow. Then I drew back and disappeared through the hidden door and made my way quickly to the Manager's office mirror. Things were going exactly as I had planned them so far…
Monsieur Andre was seated at the desk, shuffling through a pile of newspapers when I arrived. He picked one up. "Mystery of the Gala Night," he read aloud and tossed the paper aside. He picked up another, "Mystery of Soprano's Flight. Mystified, we suspect foul play." He slapped the paper down onto the desk. "First Carlotta, now Christine. No lead and every seat sold for Friday. Gossip is certainly worth its weight in gold."
Just then Monsieur Andre burst in, obviously in a bad temper. "Damnable!" he shouted. What are we going to do? This is damnable!"
"Andre, please stop shouting," Firmin said calmly. "Just look at it as free publicity."
"But we have no cast!"
"Everything will be fine, Andre," Firmin said. "But what to do about this?" He held up a letter. "Ah, I see you have one, too."
Andre took the letter Firmin held out and opened it. "Dear Andre. What a charming Gala, Christine was superb. It was hardly a loss when Carlotta left and everyone seemed most impressed by Miss Daae. The chorus was simply entrancing, however the dancing quite needs improvement."
Firmin nodded and held out his letter, "Dear Firmin, just a brief reminder: my salary has not been paid yet. As you know, it is twenty thousand francs. Please leave it in an envelope on the railing of Box Five. No one likes a debtor, so please, do take care of this matter."
The two men looked incensed. "Who would have the gall to write this? I have never heard such nonsense!" said Andre.
"They're both signed 'OG'," Firmin said, studying the letters.
"Who the hell is that?" Andre asked exasperatedly.
"Opera Ghost!" Andre and Firmin said simultaneously, identical looks of realization on their faces.
"This is really not funny," said Firmin.
"He is abusing our position," agreed Andre.
"Twenty thousand francs, he must be mad! As if we have that kind of money to throw away!"
There was a quick rap on the door, distracting the two managers. Before they could open the door it flew open and Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagney burst into the room, waving a letter.
"Where is she?" he demanded.
"Who, Carlotta?" Andre asked.
"I mean Miss Daae. Where is she?" The Vicomte looked alarmed and angry all at once. From behind the mirror I smiled.
"How should we know?" Firmin said, throwing Andre a baffled look.
"I want an answer!" the Vicomte shouted, red in the face. "I assume you sent me this note?"
"What is all this nonsense?" Firmin said, getting progressively more irritated.
"She is not with you, then?" Raoul asked.
"Of course not, we are as in the dark as you are," Firmin said.
"So you did not send me this note?"
"What are you going on about? What note?" Firmin demanded.
Raoul handed Andre the note. "Do not fear for Miss Daae. The Angel of Music has her under his wing. Make no attempt to see her again," Andre read, looking mystified.
"If you did not write it, who did?" Raoul asked, looking confused.
"Where is he!"
The occupants of the room jumped, startled, as Carlotta Guidicelli burst into the room without knocking. Her face was purple with rage.
"Ah, welcome back, signora!" Andre said trying to calm her.
"Your precious patron, the Vicomte! Where is he?" Carlotta screeched, waving around a piece of paper.
"What is it now?" Raoul asked, aggravated.
"I received your letter!" Carlotta spat. "I do not appreciate it!"
"And did you send it?" Firmin asked Raoul.
"Of course not!"
"You did not send it?" Carlotta asked, her beady eyes narrowing further as she glared at Raoul.
"I have no idea what she is talking about," said Raoul, glaring right back at Carlotta.
"What on earth is going on?" Firmin said.
"You dare try to tell me that it was not you who sent me this letter?" Carlotta demanded, shoving the letter at Raoul, who took it gingerly.
" 'Your days at the Opera Populaire are numbered. Christine Daae will be performing the lead in the production of Il Muto. Be prepared for a great misfortune should you attempt to take her place.'"
There was a moment of silence in the room, and then Andre and Firmin glanced at each other.
Firmin cleared his throat and looked around. He pasted a smile on his face. "Far too many notes for my taste!" he said, obviously trying to smooth things over.
"Yes, and most of them about Miss Daae. All we have heard is her name, and she is no where to be found…"
"Miss Daae has returned."
Everyone in the room whirled around on Madame Giry who had just come in, followed by Meg.
"I trust her midnight oil is well and truly burned," Firmin said dryly.
"Where precisely is she now?" Andre asked.
"I thought it best that she went home," said Madame Giry.
"She needed rest," added Meg.
"I must go see her!" Raoul exclaimed.
"No, Monsieur, she said she will see no one," Giry said firmly. "Here, I have a note."
"Let me see it!" Andre, Raoul and Carlotta shouted, trying to grab the note.
"Please!" Firmin said, snatching it from Giry. He opened it up and began reading. "'Gentlemen, I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature, detailing how my theater is to be run. You have not followed my instructions. I shall give you one last chance. I have returned Miss Daae to you and I am anxious for her career to progress. In the new production of 'Il Muto', you will therefore cast Carlotta as the Pageboy and put Miss Daae in the role of Countess. The role, which Miss Daae will play, calls for charm and appeal. The role of the Pageboy is silent, which makes my casting, in a word, ideal. I will watch the performance from my normal seat in Box Five, which will be kept empty for me. Should these commands be ignored, as disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I remain, Gentlemen, your obedient servant, O.G.'"
"Christine!" Carlotta screeched.
"Oh, whatever next?" Andre groaned.
"This is all just a ploy to help Christine!"
"This is insane," Firmin said.
"I know who sent this! Her lover, the Vicomte!" Carlotta spat, glaring daggers at Raoul.
"Indeed?" Raoul said, raising an eyebrow. "Do you believe this?" he asked of the managers.
"Of course not!" Andre said.
Firmin turned to Carlotta. "This must be a joke."
At that, Carlotta began ranting in rapid-fire Italian. From my vantage point I grinned. This was even better than I had expected.
Andre and Firmin fluttered around Carlotta, trying to calm her, but unable to get a word in edgewise around her ranting.
"Signora!" Andre finally said loud enough to get her attention. "You are our star!"
"This man is mad, Signora," Firmin said. "We do not take orders from anyone, including the Opera Ghost. Miss Daae will be playing the Pageboy-the silent role. Carlotta will be playing the lead."
Mad? I narrowed my eyes. They will not take orders, hmm? We shall see about that, I thought.
Carlotta waved a hand at the two managers. "It is useless trying to appease me! You are only saying this to make me feel better," she moaned melodramatically and continued to moan.
About that time the room erupted as everyone began speaking at once. Firmin and Andre still trying to coddle Carlotta who was still ranting and moaning in broken English and Italian. Madame Giry tossed a look at the mirror behind which I was standing and said, "Beware to those who scorn his words. The Angel hears, the Angel knows."
Raoul was standing apart from the others looking woebegone. "Why did Christine leave me? I must see her, I must speak to her!"
"You have replaced me!" Carlotta moaned loudly.
"Signora, you are our star! Your public needs you!" Andre said, looking lovingly at Carlotta. He elbowed Firmin in the ribs.
"Oh, yes. We need you, too," Firmin said less than enthusiastically.
"Would you not rather have your precious little ingenue?" Carlotta said sarcastically.
"Oh, signora, no! The world wants you! Think of how they all adore you!" Andre exclaimed, taking one of Carlotta's hands and kissing it dramatically.
From behind the mirror I fumed silently at the sudden turn of events. This was definitely not going at all the way I had expected.
Andre and Firmin continued cajoling Carlotta, who was looking slightly mollified, puffing up and strutting around, basking in the manager's attention and loving every second of their begging and pleading.
Raoul glanced over at the two managers, looking disgusted. He snatched the letter from Firmin and held it up against the rest of the letters. "Christine spoke of an angel," he said to Madame Giry, who nodded.
"She has heard the voice of the Angel of Music," Giry said.
Carlotta was now touting her own talents while Andre gazed adoringly at her. "Leading ladies are a trial!" Firmin said quietly to Andre while Carlotta was turned the other way. Raoul, Madame Giry and Meg were whispering together.
"Is this ghost an Angel or a madman?" Meg asked of her mother, her eyes wide.
Madame Giry shook her head. "Heaven help those who doubt," she said cryptically.
"Orders! Warnings! Lunatic demands! He must be mad!" Raoul said, his eyes glinting.
"Please say you will sing for us, our Prima Donna!" Andre said to Carlotta.
"Think before you reject his demands, you know not what he is capable of!" Madame Giry said ominously.
"I must see that these demands are rejected, Madame," Raoul said, "For Christine's sake. She must be protected!"
Andre and Firmin went aside and began whispering. "Who would believe a diva such as Carlotta would be happy to take over for a chorus girl!" Firmin said.
"Raoul may demur, but I know he was with Christine," Andre added.
From behind the mirror I snorted. These fools. They were making me extremely angry with their prattling.
"I will end his little game," Raoul said to Madame Giry and Meg. "I will be in Box Five and he will play my game by my rules!"
"That is a game you cannot hope to win, Monsieur," Madame Giry warned. "The Angel, he knows…"
"I will sing again!" Carlotta cried triumphantly.
I stood up. I had had enough. "So, it is to be war between us! If these demands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur!" I shouted. My voice echoed eerily throughout the manager's office. Andre, Firmin, Raoul, Carlotta and Meg Giry looked wildly around, alarmed. Madame Giry, however, stared calmly at the mirror.
Infuriated, I turned away and went back to my chambers. These fools did not understand what they were doing. Madame Giry alone understood that they could not win in a battle of wits against the Opera Ghost. They would learn the error of their ways, however. I would make certain of that!
X
The next two days went by slowly. Christine did not come back to her dressing room. I spent my time watching rehearsals. Carlotta was rehearsing the lead, while Christine was rehearsing the role of the Pageboy. That stupid young man, the Vicomte, hung around the rehearsals, bustling Christine from place to place as if afraid if he left her alone for a moment I would snatch her out from under him again.
I watched Christine carefully. She was continually staring off into space. More than once people speaking to her had to repeat themselves, as she did not hear them talking to her. She was as pale as usual, but quieter. She did not speak to Meg, no matter how many times the girl tried asking her where she had been the days she was missing. She spoke little to the Vicomte, even though he seemed to always be around, following her like a puppy dog.
Carlotta, who had never been pleasant to begin with, was downright venomous and for the first time since I had begun training Christine she allowed Carlotta's goading to bother her. But rather than burst into tears as she had done before, Christine now snapped back at Carlotta. I was proud of her.
The night of the performance of Il Muto was at hand and I had my plan all worked out. Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagney thought he had me where he wanted me. He would soon find out that the Phantom of the Opera plays no one's games but his own!