Chapter Two
Into the Storm
Madame Giry rushed from the carriage and into the house; she swept into the main room to find Meg by the fire trying to get it lit.
"Where?" Madame Giry asked.
"The guest room." Meg replied.
Madame Giry rushed down the back halls and Meg quickly jumped up and hurried after her.
"She needed rest." Meg whispered quietly.
The elder woman did not hesitate at the door, she opened it slowly and entered to find Christine asleep on the bed. Her chest rose and fell so slowly that Madame Giry could hardly tell she was breathing.
"My God, what has happened to her?" Madame whispered as she looked upon the woman before her. No, though many would consider Christine a woman now that she was married, Madame Giry would always picture her as the little child who had clung to her skirts when she first came to the Opera.
"She left Raoul mother. She has been through horrors and had no place to go. She came here for help. She is sick." Meg said.
Madame Giry slowly approached the sleeping girl before her and saw how like death she looked. Her beauty had faded into nothing but skin and bones; her life had been sucked out of her. Madame Giry had found it hard to look away from her. She managed to pull herself away from this broken angel and ushered Meg from the room.
She turned and pulled from her pouch at her side a key; she locked the door and then made the sign of the cross over her chest. She then headed down the hall and into the living room. She exstinguished all the lights that Meg had lit for Christine and then rigidly strode into the kitchen.
"Quickly Meg, the curtains!" Madame Giry said motioning to the windows over the counters.
"What shall we do mother. Ever since she left Erik has been in a cruel rage. If he finds her he will take her."
Madame Giry finally put out the last light and they soon found themselves in the dark. She crossed to the lamp on the table and turned the small key, which allowed the wick to emerge. Meg lit the lamp and then they waited for a moment, all was silent in the house, not a sound was made. Even their own breathing was not heard.
Finally after a moment Madame Giry spoke, "We can do nothing." She whispered in defeat.
"Mother!" Meg protested in a voice just above a whisper.
"Hush Meg. Please listen to me."
Meg sat down in one of the chairs with a stubborn thump and crossed her arms, "Even if we manage to find a place to move her to Erik will eventually find out she is here."
"How mother, how could he know?" Meg asked; the disbelief in her voice was evident.
"Erik may be a man, but he is no fool. If one thing is out of place he will know. When he comes here he will sense the difference. He is flesh and blood Meg but he is not of this world."
"What can we do? Mother there must be something." Meg asked; the anxiety that was shooting through her was evident as she squeezed her hands tighter around her arm.
"I do not know little one." She said softly. She sat at the table now, her face resting in her hands. Meg had never seen her so worried.
"Should we tell Christine?" Meg asked.
Madame Giry looked at her daughter and then sighed, "I suppose we must. It would be in her benefit to know he is here."
Meg watched as her mother's eyes searched the lamps ruddy flame. They had grown used to the darkness; that is how Erik liked it. And if he was happy they were happy because he took care of them well. But what would happen now that Christine had forced her way back into the picture?
Though she was happy to see her childhood friend she could not help but feel like Christine had come looking for trouble. Surely she did not think that returning to this city would be so easy as to start over. Surely she knew there was a chance Erik would find out and come looking for her.
Nothing was certain except for the fact that nothing was certain. In the next few hours everything was going to depend on how Christine handled the news, not only had she returned to the city that the Phantom still resided in, but she was staying in the same house as him and if he found her, there would be no escape.
Erik had finished filling his satchel full of the musical scores that he had found interest in. He had also managed to find a few pages that hadn't been destroyed of his last big work. Don Juan Triumphant.
He quickly pulled his cloak around himself being sure to cover his face and then placed a fedora atop his head and tilting it slightly over his deformed eye; he made his way out of the theatre.
It took him only minutes to exit the debris of the old Opera house and though he felt no guilt for what he had done only two years ago he took one last look at it before he started on the long walk to his house.
It was strange walking among the people of this city after so many years of hiding from them. But he found that if he walked at night, most didn't think twice about his hidden face. It was cool in the evenings, and any passer by would think little of a man who was simply protecting his nose and cheeks from the cold.
He rounded a corner and stopped when he saw a familiar family crest. His heart hammered at the site of a messenger boy talking to a man in a police outfit. Erik ducked into the shadows and moved silently.
He managed to pick up the end of the conversation and tried to keep his self from making a noise, "I am looking for the residence of the Giry household." The boy said.
"Oh yes, well I am not sure where she would be staying now, she used to reside in the Opera house with her daughter. Now where they reside is a mystery."
"I cannot return to my Lord until I deliver this message." The young boy said with regret.
"Perhaps the post office can help you. They must deliver mail yes?"
"I have my orders to not allow anyone but myself to deliver this letter. It is of the up most importance that only she read it."
Erik saw this moment as his chance, he emerged from the shadows and slowly strolled down the sidewalk just as the boy stomped his foot, "I shall never find this Giry woman!"
Erik smirked, perfect timing, "Excuse me dear boy, did you say you are looking for a Madame Giry?"
"Indeed I am Monsieur. Perhaps you could offer some assistance?"
Erik eyed the police officer who was eying him right back, he must play his cards right.
"I am afraid I can do little to help, I am very sick and the cold offends my throat and nose. I would be little help showing you the way."
"Perhaps just some directions then Monsieur?"
Erik acted like he was thinking and then chuckled, "Of course, you follow this road threw the narrows of Paris and then turn when you see a street with no lamp posts lit. They are at the very end on the right." Erik said starting to move off.
"Thank you Monsieur!" The boy said as he turned his horse and trotted down the street.
"Excuse me Monsieur, I was just hoping to catch your name again?" The policeman asked as Erik started to step back into the shadows, "I don't believe I gave it good sir." The policeman followed the strange man into the shadows but when he looked for the cloaked figure he found the man was gone.
Erik moved quickly over the rooftops as he followed the boy who rushed into the night. He seemed to be in a hurry to get home, for whatever reason Erik did not care. He only wanted to see the contents of that letter.
The family crest that was stitched into the saddle of the old mare was none other then that insolent boy that had absconded with Erik's Angel.
"Raoul." Erik whispered with venom.
Lightning ripped like claws across the dark clouds that were forming and then a rumble of thunder came from the distance. The boy looked to the sky and kicked the horse to make it move faster.
Erik quickened his pace and managed by some hand of fate to cut the boy off. He didn't hesitate as he saw the boy was approaching fast. He jumped from his perch and landed in a flurry of cloth before the boy whose horse in shock reared and cried out.
"Whoa girl!" The boy cried as he pulled on the reins.
Once the horses settled down enough for the boy to look away from the task of reeling the beast in he turned to look at the dark silhouette that stood before him.
"Be out of my way stranger. I have an important message to deliver and I will not be stopped by the likes of you!"
Erik hid a chuckle and then using his hands flung his cloak behind him, "You will give that letter to me. I shall deliver it to the Giry household."
"I shall do no such thing. I have unyielding orders from my Lord to hand deliver it only to her."
"I am afraid your orders will have to wait then. The Giry's have left the city for the time and they have left me in charge of their affairs. Tis a shame, you seem in a hurry to be home."
The boy gave him a puzzled looked and then sneered, "You expect me to believe you are the caretaker of the Giry's affairs? A man who emerges from the shadows, a man who demands claim for things that are not his? You, my dark friend, are nothing but a common thief."
"Fifty Francs will come to you if you give me that letter." Erik said.
This made the boy hesitate; he stared at the man before him with curious eyes and then seemed to fall from the illusion of trust that Erik was presenting.
"I have been ordered to deliver this letter…"
"And I have been ordered to protect the Giry's… 100 francs for that letter boy."
This statement truly seemed to confuse the boy who looked to his satchel and then back at Erik. He held his reigns steady as he considered.
"Why would the Giry's need protecting?" The boy asked.
"Your Lord tells you very little and yet demands so much. Perhaps you have not heard the tale of the Phantom of the Opera? Your Lord had a rather hard time fighting the devil off. The Giry's helped him, but the Phantom is still missing. A demon like none other, surely a man would want anyone who tried to help destroy him to suffer?"
The boy seemed to realize something and then glanced down into the dark streets that lay before him. Erik could feel the boy's desire to leave this darkness; he could sense the boy's urge to return home.
"150 francs is my final offer. You can keep it all and I will make sure Madame Giry compliments you in the letter she will inevitably write back."
This seemed to put the rest of the boy's worries away; he slowly reached into his satchel and pulled from it a long thin piece of paper. He looked at it in the gloom of the streets around him and then held it out. He pushed his horse forward until Erik was standing right next to him, "If she does not say that I hand delivered the letter I will lose my post. As much as I hate being the messenger to a bunch of rich philanderers, I need the money. My mother is sick."
Erik nodded once and reached into his pocket to retrieve the said amount, "You have my word. I will tell Madame Giry to praise you like none other."
The boy nodded once as he reluctantly took the money and then turned on his horse, he gave one last look over his shoulder and then rode away into the night.
Erik moved from his current position and climbed the side of a near by building, once he reached the top he found a corner hidden in shadows and then pulled from his cloak a lock of steel, a candle, and a flint from his own satchel and quickly made a spark to like the candle.
He ripped open the letter and began to read.
Madame Giry,
I write you this letter to inform you of the sudden and complete disappearance of the countess of Changy. To where she has disappeared I do not know. Your household is one of two places she could possibly be. I fear for her stability, in the last two years circumstances that neither she nor I could prevent have led to her current state of mind. She has left me in what I assume is an endeavor to regain her mental immovability. I did not follow her in hopes that spending a few weeks away will help her to recover from her depressive state. Please write me back if Christine has indeed come to land in your caring hands. I advise the up most discretion for fear of rumors confirming what others have already guessed.
Sincerely yours,
The Vicomte Of Changy
Erik let the letter fall from his hands, "Christine." He whispered in utter shock. His head snapped towards the direction of his house and he slowly stood. He rushed forward stepping on the candle and breaking it in half, the letter lay there on the roof as if it were a leaf that the wind had forgotten.
Christine awoke feeling no better rested then before, she could barely lift her body as she tried to sit up. She felt a presence in the room and looked around to see Madame Giry sitting in the corner with a lamp resting beside her.
"Hello Christine." She said as she stood from her chair.
"Hello Madame." Christine replied in a soft tone.
"I may still think of you as a child but you are indeed a woman, with woman like problems. You may call me by my name. Antoinette. If you so choose to."
Christine reluctantly nodded and tried to move from the bed, "You should continue to rest child. Much must have happened if you have come all this way just to see me."
The older woman approached and then sat down next to Christine on the bed, "You look sickly my child. Perhaps you have caught a cold?"
Christine closed her eyes as the woman gently removed hair from her face, "I am not sick so to speak. But I did come to you for help. I am not well in being, how this has effected me I am sure you can see."
Madame Giry nodded in agreement and then peered into the girl's down cast face.
"What must be so bad that it has caused such a horrible sadness to befall you?" Madame Giry asked in a kind voice.
"I do not wish to speak of it. It causes me great pain, still now after two years. I need some time."
"So you have come here to hide from your pain?"
"I…" Christine did not know what to say to that.
"Child, there is much pain in this life, you suffered great pain in early years with the loss of your father. Then again when you were forced to condemn one man in order to save the life of another. Pain has followed you and drank the sweet nectar of culpability from your veins. What then has happened that could be worse?"
Christine looked to the woman as tears filled her eyes. "I was with child." She whispered.
Madame Giry thought on that comment a moment before she realized what Christine meant, "He was born as silent as the grave and as still as the sculpted angels that watch over my father's tomb. And in his still form I saw a death that I could not prevent. Once I realized he was stillborn I felt the music not just leave me, but also leave my soul. I couldn't look Raoul in the face, nor could I sing to myself for comfort. The silence between Raoul and I has been unbearable. I needed to escape. And I knew I could not make it to my father's cottage. I had no where to go."
"Fate is not your friend child. Terrible things have occurred during at time when bliss should be all you know. I hate to be the barer of further misfortune but even now among friends you are in danger."
Christine raised her head suddenly to stare at the woman who now stood, "Danger? From what?" Christine asked.
Madame Giry stood and held her hand out to the confused looking girl; Christine took it and with help managed to stand.
"Come to the kitchen, we shall eat, there is much you need to know."
Madame Giry gave Christine a small plate with some slices of bread and some jam. "You must eat something child. You should not hear this story on an empty stomach."
Christine reluctantly picked up a piece and took a small bite. She set the bread down and looked to Meg, "Are you going to explain?"
"I think mother would be better suited to telling this story."
Christine looked to Madame who sighed and sat down across from Christine.
"When I was a young girl I was taken to a fair. The people who worked there were cruel and earthy. They were Gypsies. I saw many disturbing things that night but none worse then the atrocities they committed against a young boy. He was only twelve at the time but had known little of life except for the pain they gave to him. I rescued him from the cage that the Gypsies kept him in and took him to the Opera house in an attempt to hide him from the beatings and malicious treatment he was being forced to endure."
Christine could not take her eyes away from the woman, though she was sure she knew the answer she had to ask to be sure, "Who was this boy Madame?"
"His name… was Erik."
The silence then became deafening, Christine glanced anxiously between Meg and Madame Giry until finally she was forced to break the silence, "And is this the man who has put me in dangers way? Why would he wish harm against me?"
Madame Giry took Christine's fragile hand in her own and looked at the girl with such a calm Christine almost felt sick, "This man would never harm you Christine. This man, who has known little of life but its cruelties is… was… your Angel of Music."
Christine's lips parted in shock, her brow furrowed in lament, "You knew who he was? You knew who he was and where he was the whole time? And you said nothing?"
"Christine you must understand I thought that by letting him get close to you you would be able to tame him. You could help him as he helped you. I thought you could keep his desire to kill far below the surface. He would do anything for you. It worked Christine, in the end he allowed Raoul to live because his love for you allowed him to let you be happy."
Christine said nothing to this comment; she sat there digesting the new information that had been given to her.
"Where is he now?" Christine asked after a long tense silence.
"Before the night of the fire I had agreed that if anything should happen and Erik was in need of escape I would meet him here and we would plan his getaway together. As it turned out the Police and everyone else thought Erik had been killed in the fire. They did not search for him long so the need to escape was halted. We have been here ever since."
"When did Meg found out all of this?"
The blonde girl popped in quickly, "Mother informed me the night of the fire after she instructed me to meet her here. Christine, I've met Erik and he is wonderful. His anger and sadness have led him astray many times but he is indeed a good man. Erik would never…"
"Stop saying his name." Christine said softly.
"Why do you fear his name? Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself, Christine please; he is not someone to be afraid of. I have spent time with him… he is not…"
"Not what Meg? A murderer? A merciless killer? A cruel tyrant? He dictated my life for eight years. And as much as I was blessed to be chosen to sing his music I felt like it was also a curse."
Lightning lit up the house and a heavy thunder rumble came behind it, "I cannot stay here." Christine said as she stood, "I must never fall into his grasp again."
"Christine no! You mustn't leave, you are not well and to much excitement may cause you problems!"
Christine did not hesitate; she rushed out the front door as she threw her cloak around her. She did not see if they followed and at this point she did not care. She needed to be as far away from them as she could. She needed time to think, to sort things out.
If Madame Giry knew the entire time did that mean that she also knew of Erik's plan to destroy the Opera, did she know of his plan to take Christine and kill Raoul? Did she help him?
And now that Christine thought about it wasn't Madame Giry always the one to deliver letters from the Phantom to the people he wished to order about? She had done his dirty work for him, and she had never warned a soul. What did she see in Erik that no one else ever did? How could she still help the man who had destroyed so many lives, who had taken so much and never given a second thought to the outcome of his actions?
The wind had finally turned into a gusty wall of air, and rain splattered down in torrents. Lightning lit up the world around her for mere seconds before she was plunged back into the dark. She could not see where she was going nor did she care at this point.
She had to escape the darkness but to do so she would have to find her way through the night, through the storm through the blackest of black….
Something caught her arm and Christine lost her balance and was thrown forward.
She tried to drop to her knees but all to soon realized that there wasn't any ground below her. She was falling into the blackness just like in her dream.
She closed her eyes and screamed. Then she waited because she never hit the ground. She opened her eyes and looked up, a hand was holding her wrist. It was a darkly clad figure. He pulled her up and Christine looked down, it was a rather large and rather deep reservoir below her. Surely she would have broken her head or neck had she fallen. The figured pulled her up the rest of the way and then tossed her to the ground. She landed with a loud huff and then turned to see the figure standing over her.
"Audacious girl! Running off into a storm! You are foolish and juvenile."
"Who be you to call me such things! You should have let me fall! My life is not worth the pain it has caused me!" She called back through the storm.
The man to Christine's surprise started to laugh, a bitter and angry laugh, she did not understand. Not until she heard his next few words.
"Insolent girl so young and righteous,
Surely you are joking?
Pitiful girl whose long since left me,
Surely you do know me!"
"Angel!" Christine gasped as she pushed her self back, the melody alone would have told her who she was facing, but it was the tone of his voice as he sung which truly told her. His malice, his anger, his cruel tone all fit into the melody as it did the first time he had ever sang it to her.
"You say I do not understand the pain that life has caused you! Rethink your words young beauty because I know the pain of life better then anyone!"
Christine had to get away but she was too weak, she could barely stand. She had had so little energy to begin with let alone after running so far so quickly. Her body had not had proper nourishment for a long time and she was nothing but bones. Christine might as well allow him to finish her now for the road to recovery would take longer then two years.
"Don't you run away from me!" Erik bellowed as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her close to him. She felt the tears in her eyes and suddenly dizziness came over her.
Erik's scornful face was replaced instantly by shock, "Christine… your face." He whispered, before she could respond the blackness claimed her and nothing was heard after that.