Newfound Fame
II.
High above him, in the world of light he could hear the entering patrons. Their voices carrying far into his dank lair. Restless, he paced, his cape flowing about him like liquid ink splashed upon a page.
When will the thrice damned show start!
Absent mindedly he fixed his wig, making sure it stayed in place, stalking up and down the corridors angrily. The echoes of his footsteps reverberating around him, the only other sound created by his dark sanctuary was the slap of the water upon the small gondola's surface.
Suddenly the persistent chatter above him quieted, and the first sweet strains of the aria filled the vast silence.
Then came her voice, that silvery sweet sound, like a tiny well-crafted bell. No one dared make a sound, the Phantom could feel the utter awe of the patrons above and his heart swelled in pride.
Between each high note he could hear applause, the crowd roaring for his protégée, her voice magnificent.
With a smirk he turned from his lair, swiftly moving along the dank and dark corridors to the chapel room where he knew Christine, like a good girl, would be awaiting him.
How beautiful is she, how so much like an angel in her innocence, her lips like- NO I am damned to think of that! I am nothing but a hideous monster unfit for anyone, especially angelic Christine's love. His tortured soul screamed at him, merciless.
Her beautiful voice…that voice is what makes his tarnished heart continue to beat, her very life is what keeps him tethered to this god forsaken world.
Could he not just have that one pleasure?
He could see her form, her magnificent lithe form prone in front of the candelabra bearing her father's name. He continued watching her, she began to light the candles gently, the burning light playing across her curls, filling the atrium with soft light. He could not stand to not reward her for her magnificent performance tonight. His voice rang out to her, using his magician's powers he sang out to her, and her alone…
"Brava, Brava. Bravicima"
Suddenly another voice enters the chambers, he controls his ire at the intrusion. He knows that voice, the lilting voice of Meg, the little golden haired daughter of Madame Giry, and Christine's close friend.
"Christine…Christine?" Meg inquires in her childlike tone, its sound reverberating off the walls. He silently echoed in Christine's ear "Christine" just to let her know he was still there. Instead of fleeting back into his sanctuary, his interest kept him pinned into place, well hidden by the shadows. He chose to listen in to the young girls' conversations; he would never understand why girls chatted so much.
Shifting his weight from one leg to the other he listened to Christine tell young Meg about her father, and of her "Angel of Music".
He scoffed, if only she knew I was but a man, a man of distorted flesh and blood. One so close, so..dangerous, that if she ever truly knew what I had done she would flee in terror. Rubbing his hand through his hair, careful not to upset the wig. With a flick of this cape he turns down the corridor, having heard enough of their chatter. As he swept down the corridor he was flanked by HER voice, that angelic birdsong calling to him.
At that moment, he decided, decided…
She shall be mine, mine alone. His mind cooed.
Sauntering down the passageway, instead of retreating into the heart of his lair he turned down the opening to the Mirror. One of the many things that he himself had installed in this Opera House.
He could see her graceful form move about her room, peering in at her from behind his vantage point. Unafraid that anyone could see him, since he knew that the only way she could would have to be when he was backlit.
Madame Giry entered the room while he was lost in thought, she had spoken with his dear Christine, and had given her his rose as asked. Her delicate fingers tracing the black satin he had so lovingly wound around it.
She is striking, no doubt the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.
She continued to stand in front of the doorway, fingering the rose, but swiftly resigned to the chair at her vanity. She was so close, her beauty so vibrant before him. His heart ached to touch her.
Fool! Cold logic vehemently insisted.
He prepared to leave, satisfied by her presence in her room. A small smile of appreciation crossing his face, but suddenly the door opened, opened to a MAN.
His voice, so grating and rough fanned the flames of his anger.
How DARE another enter her private chambers, she was his and his alone! He fought for control of his rage, wishing nothing more than to jam back the lever and swing open the mirror to throttle this, this, BOY.
His blood boiling as they reminisced on their childhood…how dare the pompous Vitacome have any interaction with his sweet Christine. Pacing back and forth, his hand gripping the Punjab lasso he always kept well hidden beneath his overcoat. Wishing he could feel the young intruders neck beneath its strong grasp.
Listening to her sing, her birdsong, to this mongrel was revolting. He barely contained himself as the dog embraced her. He was quaking in rage as the insolent boy left, telling her that she will go with him tonight, that he would be waiting. Slipping out from behind the mirror to the front of her room, the master key within his grasp.
Not hearing Christine's reply to Raul's heinous request for her presence.
Turning the key into the lock, making sure they would not be interrupted. He decided, decided…
There was no turning back now, He had decided that he had waited far too long to show her his true form. His blood boiled at the thought of any suitor, especially one suitor in particular following her around like little puppies.
Returning to his place behind the mirror, he watched her as she exited the privacy screen, tying her wrap around her. Using his magic he blew out all of the candles in her room, enveloping it in darkness. Her face dew taunt, afraid.
Letting his voice lash out, accompanied by the organ he so dearly loves.
"Insolent boy! A slave of fashion, basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!" The clang of the organ clearly defined his anger, his voice biting as she stood in the doorway.
Her sweet voice rang out, pure and innocent, its sound slowly balming the flames in his soul.
"Angel I hear you, speak I listen, stay by my side, guide me" Clutching at the front of her dressing gown she sang, her voice a bit shaky in her fear of his wrath. " Angel my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last Master."
He could no longer be mad at her, his heart aching for he had scared her. He projected his voice out to her, attempting to soothe her in the wake of his fury. " Flattering child you shant know me, see why in shadows I hide, look at your face in the mirror" Turning she faces him, using once again his power he lights the candles behind him, backlighting himself so he could be seen as he poured out his song to her, her face so delicate, so arresting. " I am there inside!"
Slowly she strode forward on stocking clad feet, her voice ringing out once more. " Angel of music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory. Angel of music hide no longer, come to me strange Angel"
She stood so close, his heart incredulous at her words, peering into her face, searching for even an inkling of fear, but finding none. Her mouth agape in awe, her features so gently sculpted drawn into a look of surprise.
Beckoning to her the Phantom held out his hand, curling his fingers in a come hither motion, drawing her in with his voice, "I am your Angel of music, come to the angel of music" He could hear that damned boy barging on her door, but no matter to him, he had delicate Christine in his thrall, holding out his hand he drew her closer to him, like a butterfly to a spider's web.
"Come to your angel of music, come to the angel of music, come to your angel..of music" He sang out, his heart skipping a beat as she grasped his leather clad hand. Even through the thick material he felt a jolt, a spark as their hands join, a connection he had never felt before…
The organs blared out just as he wished, she was caught, deep into the spider's web. The organ being their drawing force as he began to lead her into his sanctuary, into his most sacred place…
There was no turning back now, he had pushed it past the point of no return.