"Now, Wanda. There's someone I want you to meet." Magneto briefly touched his daughter's arm, turning her away from the view of the auditorium from the stage. "This is Simon Williams, my right hand man."
Wanda blinked at the man in front of her. He looked very familiar, she was positive she'd met him before at some point, though she wasn't sure where. She had been away for quite some time…only returning because her father was in desperate need of new singers. The opera was getting a very bad reputation thanks to the actors they'd had to let go and the newspaper articles spreading rumours. "Very pleased to meet you." She dipped her head politely before returning her gaze to the stage, the red velvet chairs surrounding it and the crystal chandeliers catching the light. What a beautiful place…hauntingly beautiful.
"Wanda."
Her father's voice interrupted her thoughts and she quickly turned again, finding him looking displeased. She must have gotten distracted again. "Yes, father?"
"Simon is going to take you backstage to get your costume fitted and tell you the schedule for this week. I have an appointment with the board committee." He exchanged parting words with Mr. Williams and left through the auditorium. Wanda watched him leave uncertainly. Things had certainly changed since she'd last seen him. But perhaps it was the stress of the opera house and it's curious stories. Her father didn't want to speak about the, however. He'd gotten rather impatient when she'd brought it up.
"Will you tell me about the ghost?" she turned to Simon, looking hopeful.
"Your father warned me you'd get distracted with such things." He sighed and gestured for her to follow him back stage. "It's best not to speak about such things. You might jinx the place even further."
"So there is a ghost?" Wanda probed, her gaze darting up to the ceiling and the dark, shadowy corners.
Simon muttered something incoherent under his breath before turning around and folding his arms. "I can see you'll keep asking questions unless it's explained. If I tell you, you're not to breathe a word to anyone that I said anything."
"I won't tell a soul." Wanda promised.
"Good. Because the last thing we need is this spreading further into the public." Simon quickly glanced around to make sure no one was within listening distance. "Your father has owned this opera for many years, as I'm sure you know. He built it and everything. As soon as it was open people were flooding in to watch the best singers, the best actors, the best dancers perform. It was a success right from day one."
Wanda desperately wanted to interrupt and ask some questions, but she bit her tongue and let Simon continue.
"Then things started to happen. Performers started going off the wall, crazy—whatever you want to call it. Eric—your father—he had to tell them to leave. He couldn't have actors coming to shows drunk. That was just the beginning too, things got worse."
"I heard items got stolen, then would return a few days later." Wanda cut in, feeling goose bumps on her arms.
"That's not the half of it." Simon murmured grimly. "Magneto set a security guard to try and catch the thief. He was dead in the morning. Savagely hung from the roof beams."
"But how does that connect with the actor….incidents?" Wanda was desperately trying to figure out a more logical explanation for something this terrible that wasn't a ghost or spirits or phantoms. "I mean…no one has actually *seen* anyone sneaking around, have they?"
"You didn't read the paper this morning, did you?" Simon asked quietly. Wanda shook her head. "The security guard last night saw someone watching him from box five. A demon with eyes of sulphur."
There was an unease silence for a moment.
"But that's ridiculous!" Wanda couldn't help but burst out finally. "None of this makes any sense! If there's really a demon haunting this place, why doesn't my father do anything about it?"
"He doesn't want to risk aggravating it further at the moment. He can't afford to lose anymore performers." Simon quietly moved on, pushing open the double doors to backstage.
Wanda followed him, feeling very uncertain about her job all of a sudden. "But it's still happening, isn't it? Isn't that…why my father gave me this role? Because he's still losing singers and actors…and the papers are scaring people away. You guys are desperate. And that's what I don't understand. Why isn't anyone doing anything?"
"Look, Wanda is it? I've told you what's been happening now it's time to put that to the back of your mind. You're a singer, your job is to preform to your best and make the crowd happy and leave the demon, freak, phantom thing to your father."
"But aren't you worried about this? If you're right and all this continues my father isn't going to have an opera house to run anymore."
Simon spun around, and for a moment he looked angry. But the flame died in a second. "If you're that worried yourself, talk to your daddy about it. Now, someone will be here in a moment to sort out your costuming and help you practice the songs." But Wanda didn't feel like she was in a good headspace to sing anymore.
"But—"
"Just do your best, and make sure you're out of here before dark." Simon called over his shoulder before vanishing.
That mornings newspaper lay on the window sill. The headline reading "demon sighted at opera house". In Kurt's hands he held clipping from many other newspapers, with similar headlines. He sifted through them, sorrow brimming in his large, yellow eyes before he dropped them and turned to pick up his pen.
Something in the sweet music last night made me feel less lonely. At peace. I have been living in this opera house for so many years now, doing the same thing every day. It makes it hard to feel anything.
And that music last night made me feel. Feel…many things.
It makes me wonder. If I can feel something…feel emotions
…maybe that means I'm not a monster?