Chapter 2: Mystery
AN: Thnx to my sis 4 proofreading this!
In recent memory, there had never been a chillier Parisian night than this one. Madame Giry wrapped her flimsy shawl around her ever tighter as she neared the corner and turned into Rue de Provence. She was nearly ten minutes late, though through no real fault of her own. Security at the Paris Opera had been tightened considerably since the young soprano, Mademoiselle Christine Daae, had mysteriously disappeared earlier that evening.
As soon as she saw that letter on her desk – the one with the blood red ink – she knew that something was wrong. He had refused to describe in detail any circumstance regarding the girl's abduction; he had only told her to meet him in another location – for the Paris Opera was not safe that night.
Mme. Giry tried to remember the precise instructions he had given her (of course, she burned the letter immediately after reading it, as was the custom); it was number 90, he had said, past that restaurant that she frequented every now and then.
A dog howled in the distance.
It seemed as if there were barely any people walking about on this December night, which came as very peculiar to Mme. Giry, who had never before passed through the streets of Paris without accidentally bumping into someone. Well, she mused, isn't tonight a wonderful little evening to have ourselves a mystery? Indeed, everything about this night had seemed odd to her. Although it was a full moon and Paris was usually lit to the brim with lamps, it had seemed particularly dark that night, as if someone had systematically dimmed every source of light in the city. And of course, Christine Daae was missing and the Phantom had declared the Paris Opera unsafe without any explanation at all!
Soon, Giry finally found herself in front of number 90, Rue de Provence. It was an odd little place, to say the least. Sandwiched between two restaurants, it seemed to be nothing but a door with a peephole on it! She knocked briskly at the door and waited for a moment, watching her breath turn into a ghostly mist in the evening air.
The peephole opened and, before Giry could take a good look at who was inside, it was closed again. At last, the door opened and Giry stepped inside. Beyond the threshold, Giry had to adjust her eyes for a minute to the complete darkness that now enveloped her. There was a figure in shadows sitting in a chair by the corner.
"Thank you René, you may leave now."
It was him.
"Yes, maestro," a man's voice resonated somberly as Giry heard the door open and snap shut behind her.
Giry addressed the figure, "What happened to Daae, Erik? Who has taken her?"
"Belle madame," he replied, in an almost emotionless voice, "have I ever told you of all my old friends?"
"Old friends?" Giry looked at him in revulsion, "they're nothing but murderers and thieves! What have they done with her?"
The Phantom suddenly rose from the chair, and took three quick steps towards Giry.
"If that is what you wish to call them, ma chère madame," he hissed, and then thrust a piece of paper in her hand, "but do not concern yourselves with them. There is only one little friend we are searching for tonight, a powerful little friend. Someone whom even the most vile murderers and most unrepentant thieves dare not speak of."
He turned away from her. "I will not say his name. But you may learn it for yourself on your own time, if you wish. It's on the paper."
Giry pocketed the paper. "Good lord! What does he plan on doing to Christine, then?" she asked.
The phantom gave a sardonic little chuckle. "No, no. He does not give a damn about Christine, Madame. But can you guess what he is using her for?"
Giry's eyes widened in anger. "So you've brought this plague upon our house! How in the world did you get involved with such a dangerous man? Why have you not turned him in to the authorities?"
He gave no answer.
Giry stomped her foot. "Oh, go ahead then and stand idly in the dark! Miss Daae is in the hands of a dangerous criminal, but no matter - the phantom of the Opera is here to sit in a dark house! That will surely save her! For God's sake, Erik, why have you not done anything yet? Why did you insist upon this damned secret meeting in the middle of the night like some lunatic?"
"Madame, You would do well to be patient and listen."
There was suddenly a slight knock on the door and Giry's heart skipped a beat as she jumped back.
"Madame, go look very quickly who it is. If it is a man, balding, in his late fifties, with a gold cravat, open the door. And let me emphasize 'quickly'."
Suddenly, before her mind had hardly registered what the phantom had said and what was happening, there was a loud cracking sound in the room and a man suddenly appeared before her.
Giry screamed.
The phantom walked towards the man and shook his hand, "Please don't enter next time without permission, Monsieur Flamel."