CHAPTER FIVE
"We can't hold a séance." I sighed as Christine and I moved to the centre of the group of girls.
"Why not?" Giselle asked.
"We'd need a medium."
"Lycette can be the medium." She gestured to her friend. "She's borrowed her grandmother's spirit board."
"Can you really do that?" Christine asked, falling into step beside Lycette.
"Christine," I said, surprised. "Wouldn't you think that ungodly, good Catholic girl like you?"
She smiled.
"When was the last time you went to church, Meg?" She asked with her familiar twinkle. "And where's your sense of adventure?"
"I lost it about a month ago," I scowled.
Christine blushed and mouthed an apology, but stayed by Lycette.
"A spirit board does not a medium make," I argued. Giselle frowned at me.
"Why are you so resistant to this?" She asked. "You're not… frightened, are you?"
I shrugged, adjusting my cloak against the growing night breeze. Frightened wasn't the word I would have chosen. Apprehensive, perhaps. There was no way of contacting the Opera Ghost with a spirit board; despite his apparent ability to move through walls, I knew him to be a man of flesh and blood. The night of my rescue he had carried me in his arms, and I had felt his heartbeat, smelled his sweat. I knew Christine was hoping that Lycette could bring her a message from her father… I had no desire to get one from mine. If Christine's beliefs were right, Gustave Daaé was indeed in the company of angels, but Claude Giry would not be with him. Hell was his eternal location now and I had no desire to hear from it.
I fought with the over-riding memory of my father, smiling at me in the mirror with tears in his eyes and a pistol pressed to his temple.
Fifteen minutes later, all nine of us were seated in a circle in Giselle's dormitory. It was one of the largest in the Opera House, containing three bunks. The room I shared with Christine may have been tiny—two wardrobes, beds and nightstands took up almost all the floor space—but at least it was marginally private with just two occupants. Sleeping in the company of five other girls seemed extremely uncomfortable. The group was seated on the floor around a piece of wood about the size of my mother's chopping board. The letters of the alphabet were written along the top, and the words "Yes" and "No" in the lower corners. A small pointer on wheels was in the centre of the board. The window was open and the flames of the candles that illuminated the room flickered. When I complained that it was cold, Giselle said it created 'atmosphere'.
"What's going to happen?" Asked Aimée, one of the youngest of the group.
Lycette cleared her throat.
"We all put a fingertip very lightly on the pointer, but be sure not to actually push it or move it deliberately. I'll ask the questions, and the spirits will answer by using the pointer to spell out words."
I scoffed under my breath.
"Meg can write them down," Giselle said, passing me a piece of paper and a pencil.
"Why me?"
"You have the neatest handwriting," she replied simply. I sighed and shrugged, placing the paper on the floorboards.
"All join hands and we'll say the Lord's Prayer."
I took the hands Christine and Aimée offered me and bowed my head.
"Our Father, who art in Heaven…" I chanted the words with the rest, so familiar that they had lost their meaning. But somewhere a voice told me that it wasn't familiarity that robbed them of meaning but my own doubts and rage.
"… but deliver us from evil…"
Wind swept through the dormitory and I felt Aimée jump beside me as three of the candles went out.
"Amen."
"Everyone put a finger on the pointer," Lycette commanded. "And stop giggling, this is serious."
I rested a fingertip on the pointer and hoped that this was just a game. Christine smiled at me as she pressed a finger next to mine. Lycette took a deep breath, crossed herself, and said into the air:
"Spirits, we call you. Hear us tonight and enter our circle. Is there anybody there?"
I rolled my eyes, but the pointer quivered under my finger and there was a gasp throughout the room.
"Is there anybody there?" Lycette repeated.
The pointer quivered again, then began to slide across the board.
"Who's pushing it?"
"No one's pushing!"
The pointer stopped.
"Are there any spirits here with us tonight?"
T — R — O — I — S
"Three," I repeated, and Lycette gave us all a triumphant look.
"Do any of you have names?"
I felt Christine tense beside me, waiting. Very slowly the pointer travelled across the board, and I watched, the pencil in my left hand, ready to the write down the letters.
C
C… for Claude…
I swallowed hard, desperately hoping that it was just a coincidence. The pointer wasn't moving any further. Lycette glanced around at all of us, then asked:
"Do any of you have a message for us?"
Yes.
"What is your message?"
The pointer trembled and I wrote down the letters as they appeared.
C — U — R — I — O — S — I — T — E
"Curiosité." I repeated, staring at the word I had written down. "Curiosity. The message is 'curiosity'. What sort of message is that?"
"Shh!" Giselle frowned at me. I could sense that Christine was disappointed beside me. Lycette's neighbour whispered in her ear.
"Spirit, how did you die?"
The pointer swept across the board and I felt my hand go with it as if affixed.
S — U — I
Oh, God… The memory flashed through my head again, my father smiling through his tears, gun against his head.
"Look after Mama."
Suicide.
I stared at the word I had written down. Christine looked at me, face pale.
"We shouldn't be doing this."
"Spirits," Lycette spoke clearly over Christine's whisper. "Is one of you the entity that calls itself the Opera Ghost?"
No.
"Is the Opera Ghost in this building tonight?"
Yes.
Another draught swirled through the room and the remaining candles were extinguished. It wasn't total darkness since moonlight flowed strongly through the window, but nevertheless there were some shrieks.
"We must end this now." Christine said firmly.
"Everyone stay where you are," Lycette sounded perfectly calm. "Don't break the circle. We have to finish this properly." She cleared her throat. "Spirits, thank you for speaking to us. We release you from our circle and wish you goodnight."
The pointer responded.
A — U — R — E — V — O — I — R
"Goodbye," I repeated, and the feeling that my finger was glued to the pointer subsided. Giselle relit the candles and handed one to Christine and one to Aimée.
"You'd better get back to your dormitories before someone catches you."
"Or something," I muttered sarcastically.
"Shh!" Christine gave me a reproachful look and nodded to Aimée and her little roommate. I sighed.
"Come on, you two. We'll walk you back to your dormitory."
They stayed close, pressed tightly together as if expecting phantoms to jump out of the walls and spirit them away. I wished I could remember the other girl's name but I was drawing a complete blank.
"Listen," I said to them. "The only thing you have to be afraid of is Madame Giry or Madame Soirelli catching you out of bed after hours. There aren't any ghosts here, believe me, I've lived here my whole life. It was all a trick, the other girls were moving the pointer. Giselle was just trying to scare you."
The two girls nodded, a little reassured, but did not look completely happy until they were safely back in their dormitory. Christine and I continued upwards to our own beds.
"That was the biggest load of tosh I've seen all year," I said, kicking my dress across the floor. "It was cruel of Giselle to try and frighten us like that even if it is her birthday."
Christine didn't reply as she changed into her night gown and I struggled with the laces of my corset with fumbling fingers.
"God damn it!" I exploded.
"Meg!" Christine cried.
"Sorry." I sighed, wiping a hand across my forehead. "I know you don't like it when I… blaspheme, I'm sorry. I just can't get this wretched thing off!"
"I'll do it," she said, coming over to me. "Turn around, face the door. What?" She asked as I stared at her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Nothing." I shook my head and turned to face the door. Her warm fingers brushed my hair over my left shoulder so that she could reach the laces, and I remembered the Phantom's cold ones doing the same that evening, searching my back for scars.
"You've got yourself in a real tangle back here," she murmured.
"I was in a rush."
"Meg?" She tugged at the laces. "Did you really mean what you said to Aimée and Maria?"
Maria! That was the girl's name, Maria!
"Did you mean it, that there are no ghosts here?"
"Christine," I craned my neck to look at her over my shoulder. "There are no such things as ghosts. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to trick you."
She sighed and gave another tug, and I let out my breath in relief as the corset strings loosened.
"Oh, thank you."
"You're welcome." She climbed into bed without looking at me again.
As it turned out, I was right to warn the Phantom about Christine. We were having a music rehearsal on the stage with Monsieur Reyer two days later, divided into blocks according to our vocal range. It was one of those tedious but necessary rehearsals that Reyer called 'note-bashing', and which involved singing phrases over and over until everyone got them right.
"One of the sopranos is still sharp," he complained. "Mademoiselle Giry, is that you? Can you give me that E again please?"
Reyer had an astonishing ear for music, and I was amazed that he was able to pick out my voice among all the other sopranos. Embarrassed, I complied, and he nodded.
"Just a little sharp," he picked out the note on his piano. "Try again."
I listened to the sound and tried again, and this time Reyer smiled.
"Much better, well done. Altos, your line—"
I felt Christine's touch on my arm, but when I turned my face to hers she was already dropping downwards, eyes rolling.
"Christine!" I grabbed her just in time to stop her cracking her head open on the stage, someone else grabbing her on the other side.
"What's happened?"
"Is the child unwell?"
"Christine?" I shook her gently, then tapped her face. "She's out cold."
I tried not to panic, looking around wildly at my companions.
"Here."
A tenor knelt next to me and held a small bottle under Christine's nose, and she jerked, her eyelids fluttering.
"What…" she began.
"You fainted!" I cried, half relieved and half angry. "Don't frighten me like that!"
"Mademoiselle Giry, please help Mademoiselle Daaé to her dormitory," Reyer said. "Monsieur Dainier please fetch Dr. Forrester. Take a ten minute break, the rest of you."
Mother appeared from somewhere in the wings and together we helped the trembling Christine to our dormitory.
"Here," Mother said, holding a glass of water to her lips. "Sip slowly."
Dr. Forrester arrived within fifteen minutes, a stout bearded man in a dark brown suit, and although I dislike doctors on principle, he was very kind and gentle with Christine.
"All done," he said, after examining her. "There's nothing to be concerned about, Mademoiselle Daaé. You've just pushed your body too hard and it decided to push back. You are to stay in bed for the next three days and make sure you get plenty of water into your system. We won't have to resort to blood-letting or anything like that." He gave her a kind smile. "It's exhaustion, Mademoiselle, complete exhaustion. When did you girls start working so hard?"
Christine thanked him and I sat on her bed, stroking her hair until she fell asleep again.
What sort of a friend am I? I berated myself. Not to have noticed that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes over-bright?
I knew that she left her bed night after night and worked twice as hard as me during the day, and now she was suffering for it. And I had warned him as well.
"Dr. Forrester?" I joined him just outside the door, where he was talking to Mother. "Will she be all right?"
"Your friend will be fine, Mademoiselle," he said gently. "As I said, she needs to rest. I've left her a sleeping draught."
I spent the rest of the day with Christine, and as the sun set she began to seem anxious.
"I'm all right, really." She insisted. "I'm feeling much better."
"Christine," I replied. "You are not all right; you have to get a good night's sleep for once."
She blushed and didn't argue anymore, and I made sure she drank the draught that the doctor had left for her. I sat watching her through the darkness until the bells of the nearest church started to strike two o'clock in the morning. It was during this time that I had noticed that she was missing from her bed, learning from the Opera Ghost.
I took up my candle and left the dormitory, moving as though I were a ghost myself in my white nightgown and dressing gown. I descended the stairs, trying to think of where Christine would go for lessons with her Angel of Music. I wafted barefoot through the Opera House, and had returned to the corridor where I had found the secret door, when my ears picked up notes. The beautiful strains of a violin, played with so much talent that I gasped, emerged from the doors opposite the dressing rooms, leading to the auditorium and the stage. I forced myself to inhale and pushed open the doors that led onto the stage as quietly as I could.
Standing far back in the wings, I saw that the auditorium was in complete darkness, and a single spotlight illuminated a circle on the stage like a full moon reflected in a lake. Everything else was black as pitch, as though nothing existed beyond it.
A voice joined the music of the violin, the baritone role from the song we had been rehearsing that afternoon, and it was filled with such purity, skill and raw emotion that I felt my breath catch in my throat and my pulse beat at double quick time. I knew that I had never heard another voice to compare to it, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose and tears pricked behind my eyes. To sing with that voice, to have it surround me, to feel that passion… It touched something in my soul that longed to join with that voice, and touched something in my body too, a tingling I had never felt.
Witchcraft… I told myself, and pinched my own wrist fiercely to pull myself together. Whatever that creature was he wouldn't have me under his spell so easily. I lifted my chin and marched into the puddle of light. The voice and music stopped abruptly and I blinked in the sudden dazzle.
"You!" The hiss was filled with such venom that it ran cold through my veins like a poison. I couldn't tell where it had come from, and before I could turn, something snaked out of the darkness to my left, a long piece of rope striking me so hard against my cheek that I saw red sparks. It knocked me off my feet and the candle rolled into the blackness, its flame extinguished.
"Do you intend to test my anger?! Do you have a death wish?!" His voice was booming through the darkness, terrifyingly close. "Allow me to grant it!"
The rope caught around my neck, a noose, inescapable. A body was against mine, pressing me flat, pinning me down, then hands turned me onto my back and against the bright glare that seemed to come from Heaven itself I saw his masked face and silhouetted shape. He snarled down at me with eyes full of fire, and pulled the noose tight.
"Meg Giry, prepare to meet thy God!"
Author's Note: I would like to express my thanks to all those readers who have followed The Angel's Shadow, read and reviewed it, and given me their support and encouragement over the 13 months it took for the completed story to make it onto .
It is thanks to your enthusiasm that I have decided to publish The Angel's Shadow myself. It is available to buy now, new and improved with all the previous errors rectified, from Amazon in paperback or Kindle format, under my true name, Louise Anne Bateman.
KINDLE: . /Angels-Shadow-Music-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B00M0CZJQ6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1408385366&sr=1-1&keywords=the+angel%27s+shadow
PAPERBACK: . /The-Angels-Shadow-novel-Phantom/dp/1500574600/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1408385366&sr=1-1
As such, only the first five chapters will remain on this site, while the remaining chapters will be removed. If you enjoy these first few chapters, I truly hope that you will consider purchasing the complete book. I also hope that you will continue to lend your support to its sequel, The Angel's Flight, and the companion pieces, which will stay on the sight. The bulk of The Angel's Shadow will be removed from the site on site on the 8th September 2014. Once again THANK YOU for making my dream of becoming a published author a reality!
Louise-Anne
Louise Anne Bateman