Hey everyone! A week goes by so quickly! Here is the next chapter for you! Hope you like it. Um, just to give you all fair warning…there is a killer cliffhanger at the end of this one. But not to worry…remember…I promised you all a happy ending. Though I do feel sort of bad leaving such a horrible cliffhanger. Sorry!
Huge thanks to Terpsichore314 for her wonderful editing skills. Her advice and opinions were really helpful in this chapter! Hurray for her!
Oh and Hurray for IHeartPoto! She did another wonderful pic for me from one of the earlier chapters. The one where Brielle made Erik and Aria a birthday cake. Hehehehehe….it is so great. If you want to see it go to the link…just take out the spaces and there you go.
http/ www. Deviantart. com/ view/ 30210107/
P.S. Happy Birthday Ally N.S. (One day early.)
P.S.S. I cannot believe how many great reviews I got for the last chapter! Thanks so much you guys. You are all awesome! I tried to take most of your suggestions into mind while writing this chapter and will continue to do so in the upcoming ones. So Thanks!
Chapter 54: Dark Water
Three days passed with dreadful slowness, and with every day that went by Brielle felt that she was that much closer to losing her mind. Nothing happened, that was the problem, and there didn't appear to be any sort of a resolution to look forward to. As she went about her daily activities, mainly soothing Carlotta's fears through her Tarot cards, she kept waiting for something to blow up, but Erik apparently had taken her advice and was keeping a low profile during the day, while Christine seemed to be at a loss ever since Brielle began locking her door.
One difference Brielle did notice came from a very unlikely source. Madame Giry had taken to keeping close tabs on her through the day, making Brielle wonder at the new interest from the dance mistress. Not like I don't have other things to worry about, she thought to herself as she leaned her chin on her elbow, watching the practice onstage with muted interest. Carlotta was prancing about, as usual, with all of her normal flair, her voice shaking slightly on a high note.
Beside her stood a tall, almost gangly man with ash brown hair. His name was Daniel Jones, the new tenor. He had arrived two days ago with only one trunk of baggage and a friendly smile. For being such a thin man his voice was certainly beyond compare, booming out of his slight frame with a shocking strength. Mr. Jones is very talented. I bet the managers are glad they actually gave in to Andrew's demands.
A shiver of dread ran up her spine at the thought of Andrew, all the hairs along the back of her neck standing on end as her blood froze within her veins. Stiffening where she sat just off one of the stage's wing, Brielle turned her head slowly, her eyes searching the immediate area, fully expecting to see the man of her nightmares standing behind her. Seeing no one but the singers and Father Thomas on the far side of the stage she forced herself to relax. Jeeze…Brielle, what is wrong with you? Getting all excited for no reason. You are fine…safe…no one will find us here.
Letting out a pent-up breath, Brielle waved to Father Thomas when she noticed that he was looking at her. The blonde man started slightly and waved back before turning to disappear behind several half built set pieces. Actually, the poor father is acting very strangely as well. Something must be worrying him. The singing stopped onstage when the conductor began banging his baton against his music stand, frustration painted all over his face as he tried to correct Carlotta's pronunciation.
"No…no…no! The word is 'happ…y…ness.' Not 'harpydess,' madame," he moaned as he raised a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.
Instantly puffing up at the criticism, Carlotta threw up her hands in frustration. "I know, I know! I am not-a stupid!" she shouted, the volume of her voice startling the new conductor so badly that he dropped his baton. Marching over to where Brielle sat, Carlotta began cursing under her breath in rapid Italian, the dark feathers in her hat waving madly with her agitated movements.
"Can you-a believe 'im?" the diva asked with a wave back towards the conductor. "I-a don't tink he knows who he is talking to!" Raising a hand to her throat, she gave a little cough then.
"You shouldn't shout so. It can't be good for your voice. I don't think you would have to strain so much on the high notes if you didn't shout so much," Brielle stated calmly as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small blue spray bottle. Carlotta stomped a foot in outrage, but Brielle stood before the other woman to launch into another rant. "I made this for your throat," she said as she held out the bottle for the older woman. "I don't know who gave you that other stuff you had, but it was terrible."
"Dat is stupid. It always makes my throat feel better," Carlotta snapped as she folded her arms across her chest, refusing to take the bottle from Brielle's hand.
"That is because it numbed your throat so you wouldn't feel the pain when you were straining yourself." Shaking her own bottle slightly, Brielle continued. "This will actually soothe the irritation away."
Hissing out a breath, Carlotta snatched the bottle and looked down at it. "I do not-a pay you for dis sort of ting."
Shrugging, Brielle sat back down. "It was something to keep me busy. I have been worrying about something."
"Yes, I 'ave noticed dat you 'ave been really quiet these last few days. It is annoying! I do not-a want to be around grumpy people. I…" Stopping in mid-sentence Carlotta stared off over Brielle's head, her dark eyes wide with shock. Turning in her chair, Brielle followed the diva's gaze with her own, spotting Christine lurking behind a curtain. Raising a shaking finger, Carlotta pointed at the younger girl and let out a shriek.
Jumping to her feet, Brielle grabbed onto the taller woman's arm when Carlotta took several charging steps toward where Christine stood. Christine, for her part, started at Carlotta's shout and quickly disappeared behind the curtain, the hurried sound of her footsteps fading as she ran off. "What is she doing 'ere! Do dey hate me dat much!" Carlotta howled, as she strained against Brielle's grip.
"Perhaps she is visiting Meg," Brielle said hurriedly as she struggled to hold onto the diva's arm.
"No…no! My career is-a over! She has come back to kill me dead! Like she did before!" Carlotta whined as she raised both hands to her face.
Opening her mouth to respond, Brielle was interrupted when the taller woman jerked out of her grip and rushed off the stage in tears, heading straight for her dressing room. A great sigh rose up behind her as everyone on stage realized that practice had once again been interrupted. The conductor threw up his hands in defeat, tossing his baton onto his music stand with enough force to dislodge of few pieces of the sheet music. Mr. Jones stood with his mouth hanging open as he stared off after the retreating diva, his hazel eyes overlarge as he focused in on Brielle's face.
A slight frown developed between his brows as he searched her face. "Is she always like that?" he asked slowly, a hint of London's East End haunting every word.
Shrugging, Brielle held up both hands. "Yes, but she will come back in a little while. Don't worry about it. There is still plenty of time before opening night."
Walking towards her, the new tenor squinted curiously at her face. "Good to know."
Nodding, Brielle stepped away from the tall man. "I should go after her though…perhaps I can get her out of her room in about an hour."
"An hour!" the conductor bellowed from where he still stood in the pit. "We will run out of time! I can't believe this!"
"Ack, settle down there. Surely the orchestra can still practice without her," Conner's voice said from somewhere in the pit. "And Mr. Jones can still sing…let's just start another section!"
Glad to no longer be everyone's focus, Brielle turned and dashed off after Carlotta. As she passed a series of plaster Ionic columns, Aria came running out from behind one of them. Brielle came to a grinding halt just before she ran over her daughter. "What on earth are you doing running around out here? I thought you were in the schoolroom."
Twisting her skirt about her knees, Aria smiled up at her mother. "It was b-boring so I l-left."
"God a' mighty! You can't just run about on your own!"
Pouting, Aria released her skirt and moved forward to latch onto her mother's. "I w-wasn't alone. I was p-playing with Christine. H-hide and seek…b-but she ran off b-before she could find me."
"She was playing hide and seek with you?" Brielle asked in disbelief. I wouldn't have thought she would have the patience to muck about with a child. I should be mad that Aria wasn't in school…but it was sort of nice of Christine to look out for her. Sighing heavily, Brielle gave up on trying to be mad at the former singer, though she really wished that she could be. It would have made things much simpler if she could just hate the girl.
"Well, she ran off because I think she knew Carlotta was about to kill her," Brielle said as she looked up and down the hall. "Speaking of which, did you happen to see Carlotta run by? I thought I would go and try to calm her down."
Shaking her head, Aria raised her arms up into the air until Brielle bent to pick her up. "I d-didn't see her," Aria said as she laid her head against her mother's shoulder. "D-Do I have to g-go b-back to school now? I already k-know how to read!"
"I must be a terrible mother," Brielle muttered to herself before patting Aria on the head. "No, you don't have to go back right now, but tomorrow you have to stay the whole time. It is important to go to school." Continuing her lecture on the importance of learning, Brielle made her way to the hall where most of the dressing rooms were. Walking up to Carlotta's closed door, she raised her fist and banged on the wood. The only response was the sound of some piece of furniture being smashed against a wall. Lowering Aria to the floor, Brielle tried again.
"Signora? Do come out. Everyone misses you onstage." There was a slight pause in the commotion within the room but soon enough the crashes and curses began again. Pointedly covering Aria's ears when the curses switched to English, Brielle took a step back from the door. "Well, I don't suppose she is ready to come out."
Aria rolled her eyes. "S-She is h-having a tantrum. I d-didn't think old p-people had tantrums."
"Yes, well not all old people act their age. In fact, I am not sure if…" The sound of two arguing voices rounded the corner at that point, interrupting Brielle's train of thought.
Turning her head toward the sound, she took several steps away from Carlotta's door. It took only seconds to recognize Madame Giry's distinctively authoritative voice. What was odd was the fact that the normally reserved woman was actually shouting at someone. And someone, whose voice rang bell like through the air, had the gall to be shouting back at her. As Brielle absently stroked the top of Aria's head, she watched Madame Giry and Christine round the corner, both completely absorbed in their fight.
"You must leave this place! You do not belong here any longer. Already Carlotta has seen you and you see what a disruption it was!" Madame Giry hissed, her voice carrying loudly in the quiet of the hall. No one else was around.
Christine balled her fists at her sides, standing her ground in the face of the dance mistress's intensity. "Do not bully me! You aren't in charge of my actions any longer."
"No, your husband should be!" Madame Giry retorted quickly. "But you haven't even told him you are here."
Outrage flashed over Christine's face as she turned and tried to push past the dance mistress. "I don't have to listen to this. And who cares about Carlotta? She is a wicked and mean old wash up! You know how she treated me!"
Grabbing hold of Christine's arm, Madame Giry stopped the younger girl's retreat. "Yes, but look how you treated her! You allowed poor Erik to push her out of your way in order to further your ambition."
"I didn't ask him to do any of that!" Christine shouted, the curls about her face bouncing wildly as she flung out her arms, pulling free of Madame Giry's white-knuckled grip.
"But you didn't stop him either! Not until you realized things were going beyond your control! Only then did you realize how dangerous your dark angel could be. That is why you should leave. Let things rest. Do not stir up old memories again."
"He is dead now! There is nothing to stir up. Why is it that everyone I see says I should leave…no one wants to help me. I don't understand. First, Meg won't make her friend let me use the mirror and now you are trying to force me to leave!" Softening her voice, Christine leaned heavily against the wall, as if her outburst had drained her energy reserves. "Why can't you understand that I have to put him to rest? I have to…he would have wanted at least to be buried…like a normal man. I am trying to do what is right…"
Sighing heavily, Madame Giry stepped forward and placed her hand on Christine's shoulder. "This place was his home, Christine. Perhaps you wish to do this thing for yourself? To make yourself feel better…and not for him. We cannot change what happened…everyone made mistakes."
Raising her hands to her face, the vicomtesse began to quietly weep, her slight shoulders sagging in grief. "But no one more than me. I did terrible things because I am so weak. I know I am not a strong person…that is why I loved him so much. His voice was always so certain, so strong. That is why I first loved Raoul, too…I knew I would be safe because truly I know there is a cowardice within me. What is so wrong about trying to make up a small portion of my sins against my poor angel?"
The wobbling of Christine's words was enough to pull at Brielle's heart, and she felt sorry for the girl. She can't be older than nineteen now…she is still just a child. My god…Erik is almost old enough to be her blessed father. No wonder she acted as she did. Wincing at the conversation at the end of the hallway, Brielle slowly took hold of Aria's hand as she turned to tiptoe toward the end of the hall, where the door of her own room stood closed. She wanted to sneak away without being noticed by the arguing pair. Perhaps Madame Giry can convince her to leave without there being a problem.
Pulling out her key, she stuck it into the lock and very carefully tried to turn it without making any noise. The tumblers stuck stubbornly in the lock, foiling her plan at silence when they stuttered loudly into motion, the door falling inward as the lock clanked open. Freezing where she stood, Brielle heard the talking at the end of the hall come to a sudden stop. Quickly ushering Aria into the room, she looked over her shoulder in time to see Christine charging down the hallway toward her, a fiercely determined expression pinching her pert little mouth shut, Madame Giry racing along after her. Shit!
Hurriedly stepping into the room, Brielle gave one last ditch effort at escaping the feverish gaze of the young vicomtesse, but Christine leapt forward and planted one hand flat against the door. "Wait! Do not shut me out," she pleaded desperately, the tracks from her tears glistening down her flushed cheeks.
Madame Giry came up behind Christine, trying to take hold of the girl and pull her away from the door. "Christine…come away now. Do not bother Madame Donner," the dance mistress said, shooting Brielle a quick searching look. Once again the Irishwoman had the distinct feeling that Madame Giry knew something she wasn't saying.
Shaking off Madame Giry's grip, Christine reached forward and took hold of Brielle's hand, her dark eyes red-rimmed and pleading. "I know I was terribly rude to you when we first met," she began, "but please put aside your dislike of me for only a little while and I will never bother you again."
Aria moved closer to Brielle's skirts as she stared uncertainly up at Christine, obviously concerned over her hide-and-seek pal's distress. Sticking her thumb nervously into her mouth, Aria wrapped an arm around Brielle's leg. "M-Momma…what is wrong?"
Seemingly noticing Aria for the first time, Christine let go of Brielle. Raising a hand to her mouth she gasped aloud. "Oh my god! I just ran off and left in the middle of our game! I am so stupid!"
Taking pity on the distraught girl, Brielle stepped aside and allowed her into the room, offering the vicomtesse a chair. Madame Giry stood stiffly in the doorway, her eyes fixated upon the mirror. Moving around the table, Brielle took the other chair in the room, folding her hands in her lap in order to keep them from wringing nervously. If Erik should be behind the mirror, would he be able to stop himself from coming out to talk to her… The thought made her feel ill, but the more she got to know Christine the less she was inclined to treat her harshly. It felt too much like kicking a puppy.
"You have shown great interest in my room, Madame," Brielle began slowly, trying to sound like she wasn't already privy to the reason behind this behavior. "Is there a reason for this?" I wonder what she is going to say. She doesn't seem the type to be good at lying…but I am a stranger to her.
The dark-eyed girl fidgeted under Brielle's steady gaze. "This used to be my dressing room when I was a singer here last year."
"Ah…" Brielle replied with a nod, allowing her silence to hang in the air between them. In the doorway Madame Giry had now turned her sharp eyes to Brielle, pinning her to the chair with a deeply considering gaze.
Sighing, Christine laid her hands on the table. "How much did you hear of what I said out in the hall?" she asked suddenly. "Because it is very important that not many people know some of that information."
"Well, I…" Brielle began.
Sitting forward in her chair, Christine earnestly continued on, and suddenly Brielle could see the appeal of the young girl. She had a genuine manner about her, fully expressing every emotion as it came over her, that led a person to want to relax around her. She might be a silly child…but I can see why people would like her.
"Last year, before I got married, there was a terrible accident here at the theater and I lost a close friend," Christine said with a sad sort of frown. "That mirror has a passageway behind it. When you caught me that first day I was trying to open it and get into that passage. I wanted to go and find this old…friend in order to give him a proper funeral."
Brielle raised her eyebrows, as if surprised, during this speech. Christine opened her mouth to continue as a tinkling melody struck up from the corner of the room. Both Madame Giry and Christine stiffened where they were as they listened to the first several seconds of the simple tune, and all eyes turned to where Aria sat with the music box Erik had given her in her lap. Closing her eyes, Brielle sucked in a breath. Please…Please…don't tell me they recognize that stupid music box…please…
Christine's chair protested noisily as the vicomtesse jerked to her feet, her dark eyes watching the little monkey on the music box clang its cymbals together. Slowly the sad, desperate look in her expression shifted to suspicion, then anger. "Where did you get that?" she demanded, her voice dipping low.
Madame Giry pushed away from the doorframe, her normally stern face loose and staring at the music box. "I knew it…" she whispered to herself, drawing both Brielle and Christine's startled gazes.
"You knew what?" Brielle asked, as she slowly climbed to her feet, trying all the while to appear calm, though her insides were twisting inside her.
"You knew this woman was stealing things from his home and you didn't do anything! She is a thief!" Christine shouted as she rounded on Madame Giry.
Bristling, Brielle straightened, her spine going ramrod straight. All softer feelings of pity went flying out the window as Christine's perfect little mouth formed the word 'thief.' "Be careful who you are calling thief, madame," Brielle growled threateningly, her gray eyes narrowing as she pushed her chair in.
Christine shot her a furious glare before turning and striding across the room with lightning speed. Before Brielle could stop her, the vicomtesse bent down and snatched the music box right out of Aria's hands, Christine's actions deteriorating downward into the childishness that Brielle had sensed from the beginning was behind her sad brown eyes. Aria jumped to her feet, hopping up and down to try and retrieve her toy from the older woman. Clutching the music box to her chest, Christine backed up until she ran into the mirror, refusing to allow the child to touch it.
"This whole time you were lying to me! You knew about the passage because you were stealing things from his house! This is his music box! It isn't yours!"
Digging her fingers into the back of her chair, Brielle bared her teeth when she saw the tears start to gather in Aria's eyes. "You had better put that down right now, or, so help me, I will take it from you…and I don't think you would like how I would take it."
Sensing the threat hidden in those words, Christine clutched the music box tighter. "I don't have to listen to you. You can't do anything to me. I am a vicomtesse…in case you didn't know. My husband is from a very powerful family. You can't do anything to me."
"Your husband isn't here…" Brielle stated matter-of-factly.
Gasping aloud at this, Christine turned frightened eyes to Madame Giry, looking for support. "Do you see that? She is threatening me! Look at her eyes! I can see it in her eyes…they are just like his were when he went and did something crazy!" Christine shrieked hysterically.
"Stop shouting, you silly girl," Madame Giry snapped as she took a step into the room. "Don't you see what is really happening? She didn't steal that music box at all…"
Interrupting the dance mistress, Christine cut in, refusing to hear anything opposing what she already believed to be true. "So you won't help, then? I knew it…everyone hates me for what happened! No one cares about how badly I feel!" Turning, she ran out the door, pushing past Madame Giry in order to make her hasty exit.
Seeing her music box going out the door with the vicomtesse, Aria started to cry. "M-Momma! She s-stole my t-toy! It was the one Erik g-gave me!"
"Lies! You are all lying! He would never give you people anything," Christine shrieked as she raced off down the hall, leaving everyone staring after her in shocked silence. Brielle had never seen a grown person act in such a way before. It was alarming how quickly Christine's entire demeanor had changed. In the matter of a few seconds she had gone from humble desperation to violent hysteria.
Coming forward, her hands raised in a calming gesture, Madame Giry stepped between Brielle and the door. "Don't mind her. This has always been how she has dealt with stress. She can't help but act like this…she never accepted her father's death…never grew up afterward. At first I thought she had gotten a little better, but it seems…she has reverted."
"This is not the behavior of a child. Aria is four years old and she doesn't go around screaming at people and breaking into people's rooms," Madame Giry tried to take hold of Brielle's arm, but the Irishwoman broke away from her touch. "No! That is the behavior of a young girl who has never been checked in her life. People feel sorry for her because of her grief, but truly it is not an excuse to act like a spoiled brat. And I for one will NOT let her get away with it!"
Turning, she quickly knelt in front of Aria, taking the child's face in her hands. As she watched her daughter's tear-filled eyes rise to meet hers, the anger fanned ever higher within her, making it hard to be gentle as she wiped Aria's wet cheeks. Snatching a toy right out of a child's hands… "You stay here for a little while. Momma will be right back with your music box."
Brielle placed a kiss on Aria's forehead when the child stared hiccupping through her tears. "Don't worry…" Climbing to her feet, Brielle turned and strode toward the door, her fury staining her cheeks a bright pink.
When Madame Giry tried to stop her, she merely dodged to the side and ran out the door, the heels of her button-up shoes pounding upon the wooden floor. Gripping her skirts firmly in both hands, she raced to the end of the hall just in time to see the lacy bustle of the Vicomtesse de Chagny disappearing around another corner. Picking up her pace, she careened around the same corner and chased the fleeing vicomtesse with renewed vigor. Still strong from her months of work on the cleaning staff, it did not take long for Brielle to catch up to the frailer girl. Chasing her into a dead end, Brielle physically blocked Christine's escape. The brown-eyed girl banged a fist against the wall in frustration before whirling around to face Brielle.
Raising a hand to her chest, Brielle struggled to catch her breath. "All right, enough of this foolishness. Return that music box to me and I will be willing to forget about this whole thing."
Backing up, Christine pressed herself against the wall, the wildness in her eyes sharpening into outrage. Apparently she couldn't believe Brielle had actually followed her. "Don't you come near me, you crazy Irish…eh…um…"
Her lip curling up slightly, Brielle ignored Christine's command and took a threatening step forward. "What? Irish whore?...Thief…Potato punching bitch? Pick one…I have heard them all."
Her mouth falling open at Brielle's inflammatory language, Christine could only shake her head vaguely. "No…I mean I didn't…no…I wouldn't say that…"
"Oh please…don't get all high and mighty. I know you were thinking it." When Christine continued to protest, Brielle stabbed her finger through the air, silencing the girl with the movement. "What is the matter? Are you too good to insult someone?" The vicomtesse stared at Brielle like the Irishwoman was a spawn of hell.
"You are crazy."
"Give it back," Brielle demanded, ignoring Christine's insult as she gestured to the music box still clutched in the girl's hands.
"No! I won't! And I won't let you intimidate me! This doesn't belong to you. If anything, it is mine!"
"Oh? How do you figure that?" Brielle asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Shifting uncomfortably, Christine's gaze flickered back and forth from the floor to Brielle's face. "It was my friend's…I told you. I was his only friend so…so…if anything this is mine, because there is no one else to care for his things…no one else for him to leave it to."
Scoffing at Christine's speech, Brielle threw up her hands in disbelief. His only friend? My lord, she does have a funny way of remembering things. Unable to hold her tongue any longer, Brielle stepped forward and grabbed hold of the music box, her face barely five inches from Christine's. "You are unbelievable. I don't know how you describe friendship…but I certainly don't consider leaving a man down in a smoke-riddled sewer to be an act of friendship!"
Refusing to let go of the toy which was now the only thing that separated them, Christine blinked at Brielle in shock. "How do you know that!" she breathed.
Realizing her mistake, Brielle mentally cursed. Damn it, now I have said too much…no one else should know that…and here I am blabbering on! Damn it! But somehow, despite the repercussions involved in revealing too much, Brielle couldn't help the urge to say more. The mere thought of this girl taking a holier-than-thou attitude when it came to Erik somehow made logic fly out the window. Brielle felt the caustic waves of white hot anger eat away at her thoughts as she remembered how utterly defeated and shattered Erik had looked when she had first found him. Lying face down, soaking wet in the dark…calling out her name even though he knew she had left him to the mob.
"I know many things…like how you believed he was an angel sent from heaven to protect you. And that you loved this because it made you feel like you were not some cowardly slip of a girl with no real character. Oh, how it must have disappointed you when you realized that he was only a man…and a deformed one at that…and not the perfection that you had imagined. Ruined the dream didn't it?" she snapped, peppering the younger girl with one harsh question after another, finding herself unable to stop the flow of poison dripping from her own lips.
Christine's bottom lip began to tremble as Brielle took a breath and barreled on. "But there is one thing I cannot figure out," Brielle continued, jerking the music box violently out of Christine's now loose fingers. "Was it really his face or your own shallowness that made it impossible for you to love him?"
Her voice rang harshly in the air as Christine's face lost all of its rosy color, her skin turning the color of old bone. A horrified shadow swept through Christine's dark eyes, she was visibly thinking over Brielle's words, wondering if what was said was true. Letting her hands fall limply to her sides, Christine slowly shook her head, a touch of anger stiffening her slight body.
"How dare you…! What do you know of it or anything else? You weren't there! You don't know how tormented I was and am over everything! How dare you!" Bringing her hand up quickly, she brought it across Brielle's cheek with just enough force to make it sting. Gasping over the willfulness of her own action, the girl quickly pushed away from the wall and edged around Brielle's stunned figure, regret swimming in her eyes. "Oh my god! I am sorry…I didn't mean to…I mean I didn't want to hurt you its just…I was so mad…and…"
Turning to set the toy in her hands down onto the floor, Brielle raised a hand to her face. So she wants to play it that way, does she? she thought grimly as she straightened. "I am willing to offer you a little bit of advice, Madame de Chagny," Brielle said softly, as she slowly moved closer to the fidgeting girl. "If you ever hit someone in the future…do not apologize for it."
Swinging her open hand backward, she brought her palm across Christine's face with enough force to knock the girl to the ground. Feeling incredibly wicked for how good this felt, Brielle stood over the prostrated girl with a triumphant smirk plastered across her face. Wow…that felt good. "THAT is the proper way to go about it! Write it down!"
With a perfectly formed outline of a hand swelling up across her face, Christine scooted backward across the floor. She unsteadily climbed to her feet and continued to back away. Opening her mouth she screamed for help at the top of her operatic lungs, drawing a few curious onlookers.
Unaffected by the girl's commotion, Brielle waved to the two stagehands at the end of the hall. "Don't worry, it is only a slight rat problem!" she called, cupping her hands over her mouth to be heard over the vicomtesse's howls. Apparently satisfied with this answer, the two men moved on without a word, leaving the two women alone in the hall once again.
Scooping up the music box that started the entire problem, Brielle fisted her free hand on her hip as she looked Christine up and down. The anger that had been boiling within her settled down to a low simmer, satisfied by giving the girl a good slap. Walking past the now silent girl, Brielle casually strolled down the hallway. "Now you will come back with me and apologize to my daughter for taking her Christmas present," she ordered. "Or you will have to live the rest of your life with the added shame of stealing from a child. I am sure there is a special place in hell for people who do such a thing."
For a moment it seemed Christine was going to protest this treatment, but then reluctantly she started forward. Sullenly she followed on Brielle's heels with a delicate hand pressed firmly against her smarting cheek. "This isn't the end of this…" she muttered. "I won't stand for this."
Smiling to herself, feeling strangely at ease, Brielle merely nodded. She no longer felt threatened by the girl's presence at the Opera. Christine's outrageous behavior had shown her just how plainly imperfect the girl actually was, destroying the built-up image of flawless woman she had been carrying about in her mind. This is real. I can fight this. And I can win. "Then let the games begin," she said cheerfully. I can't wait!
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Lying flat on his back, looking up at the network of ropes and pulleys hanging above him, Conner closed his eyes tiredly. Flexing his hand to keep it from stiffening up, he let out a satisfied breath. Well that was a rather good practice. Even with Carlotta storming off. And I rather like the new tenor…he is a very amiable guy. The whispering sound of approaching feet passed close by his right ear, causing him to open one eye and stare up at Meg's disapproving face.
"Why are you lying on the ground like that? You will get dirty!"
Grinning up at the girl like an idiot, Conner gave a shrug. "Who cares? Clothes can always be washed." Reaching out a hand he tugged playfully at the hem of her skirt. "Come sit with me. Everyone is on break."
"And what could we possibly have to talk about?" she asked, even as she lowered gracefully to sit beside him on the floor. "I doubt we have anything in common at all!"
"That may be…" he replied with a wink. "But I know we have at least one thing in common."
"Oh, and what is that?"
"Dancing…" he said, laughing when a startled expression passed over her face. "I am just teasing you. We have plenty of things in common. We both work here…we both know my sister…"
His silliness had its desired effect when Meg cracked a smile and shook her head. "Those are terrible examples!"
Rolling over so he could prop his chin on his hand, Conner glanced momentarily around at the few remaining performers still in the area. "True…then, let's see…what would be something better? Hmm… Have you ever performed at any other theaters?"
"Oh, no…I have always danced here. I am not good enough to go traveling about."
Grunting, Conner wrinkled his nose. "That isn't true…you are fantastic."
Blinking at the seriousness of his tone, Meg's cheeks turned a deep shade of red. She opened her mouth to say something in response, but stopped when her eyes flickered away from his for a moment. "Oh…no…" she gasped as she jumped to her feet.
Instantly on alert, Conner likewise got to his feet, spotting the reason for Meg's sudden departure. Christine stood off in one of the wings desperately beckoning for Meg to join her. His anxiety instantly deflating, the redhead sighed and took off after Meg. I thought Madame de Chagny wanted to keep a low profile. Running around near the stage is the worst way of doing that.
As soon as Meg reached her, Christine grabbed the blonde and dragged her behind a curtain. Wondering at all this odd behavior, Conner didn't mind in the least following the two girls behind the curtain. Giving a little wave to Meg to let her know he was there, Conner crossed his arms and stood a few feet behind Christine, escaping her immediate notice.
"Christine…what happened to your face?" Meg asked her friend.
"That wretched woman attacked me! Brielle…or whatever. There is something very odd about her, Meg. She knows things she shouldn't know. And she has Erik's music box! I tried to take it away from her, but she made me give it back after she hit me."
Rolling his eyes, Conner stared at the girl's back in astonishment. This was the chit that Erik was pining over all those months ago. Lord a' mighty…she must be a half wit if she thought she could start something with Brielle and get away with it.
A cloud passed over Meg's face as she listened to Christine's story. Pulling away from her friend's grasp, Meg began to frown. "Christine…this is the final straw. You stole something from Brielle? Is it a surprise that she took it back!"
"No, but…"
"But nothing. I introduced you to my friends…after you show up without any warning and then you go and act like a crazy person!" Waving a hand in the air, Meg shook her head and brushed past Christine, stalking toward Conner. "If you expected sympathy, you were wrong to come to me. Time to grow up, Christine!" Grabbing hold of Conner's arm, Meg dragged him with her as she stormed off.
"Meg…"
"Shh…Just keep walking or I will start to feel bad," Meg whispered, tightening her grip on Conner's arm. "I hate fighting…but I forgot how strange she can get. I can't believe she actually ran off with something that belonged to Brielle…god…I am mortified!"
"Well, it isn't your fault. You can't control her…"
Smiling slightly then, Meg looked up at Conner, her expression clearing. "You know when you aren't being annoying you are a really nice man," she said, as if she was slightly surprised by this insight.
"Well, thank you," Conner replied, raising a hand to lay over Meg's where it rested in the crook of his arm. He sighed heavily over how right that gesture felt. Well…hell…now I don't know if I can ever let her go.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Smiling brightly at her own reflection in the mirror of her room, Brielle hardly heard a word Madame Giry was saying in her ear. Christine had apologized quickly enough, and just as quickly had made her escape, leaving Brielle to glow in her small victory. Excitement burned through her body at the renewed sense of vigor she felt. She couldn't wait to see Erik again, to begin the battle for his heart. Somehow now that she had bested Christine she knew that she could do anything if she put her mind to it. Thank you, Christine…she thought happily as she raised a hand to the red mark on her face where the vicomtesse had hit her.
"How long have you known about Erik?" Madame Giry asked, raising her voice slightly when it was clear Brielle wasn't really listening.
Shaking herself, Brielle focused on the dance mistress. Well, I suppose I have been found out, she thought absently, finding that this didn't upset her as much as she thought it would. At least it is by someone I can trust. Erik always said how kind Madame Giry was to him.
"Last year, the night the chandelier fell, I found him in the cellars. At that time I didn't know who he was…only that he was hurt and alone. With my brother's help, I took him out of Paris back to my home."
Astonishment had Madame Giry's eyebrows soaring up to her hairline. "He allowed you to care for him? He didn't leave? He stayed in your house willingly? A stranger's house? A woman's house!"
Folding her hands in her lap, Brielle nodded serenely. "At first he didn't have much of a choice. He was so close to death that first night…I didn't sleep a wink because I was certain he would pass on. And even though he was a stranger I didn't want him to die alone."
Coming to sit next to her on the bed, Madame Giry took Brielle's hand in hers. "And then, after he got better?"
"After that he wanted to stay. He helped Aria with her speech and music."
"He…wanted to stay?" Madame Giry repeated slowly, her eyes glued to Brielle's face. "How did you come to be here?"
"He returned to the Opera…and by accident Aria and I came to be here as well. That day you helped me get a job…we really had only wandered in. I actually didn't know he was here then."
Sputtering, Madame Giry turned her eyes to the mirror, unable to voice any other question. "I don't know what to say. From the day I met him, when I helped him come to this place, there was a bitterness in him that I was sure would never allow for…and then, of course, I was sure he had died. My god…I don't know if you even realize what you might have done…he chose to stay…" Raising her free hand to her mouth, Madame Giry cut off abruptly and stood. "I have to go…but perhaps we can talk more later?" the older woman asked, her expression melting in such a way that Brielle was certain that the dance mistress was about to break into tears at any moment.
Still wrapped firmly in her current state of happiness, Brielle watched the older woman hurry out of the room. My…what will be her reaction when I tell her that I fully intend to marry that stupid man? Brielle thought, the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl causing her to double over on the bed, a hand firmly clamped over her mouth. Turning her head slightly, she looked over at where Aria was napping on the other bed, her tiny hands wrapped firmly around her newly returned music box. Evidently the stress of the situation with Christine had worn her out. Not ten minutes after Brielle had forced the vicomtesse to apologize, Aria had flopped onto her bed and drifted off. Looking at her daughter now, Brielle couldn't help but see a little bit of her late husband in the child's sleeping face. I bet Erik would make beautiful children…
Slightly embarrassed at the thought, and more than a little thrilled, Brielle jumped up from the bed and began pacing back and forth around the room. All the jubilant energy that was coursing through her made it impossible to sit still. I wonder where he is right now…off brooding somewhere, most likely. If he had been around earlier, I doubt he would have been able to stay out of my little brawl. He has to be down in his house…
Tapping her fingers impatiently against the glass of the mirror, Brielle bit her lip in thought. An idea was forming in her head that she knew to be stupid, but couldn't seem to get rid of it. This place has seven levels of cellars…that is a lot of space to hide in. Though I think he mentioned that he lived in the lowest one. Sighing, she ran her hand over the stone where she knew the mechanism for the mirror was. Don't be stupid, Brielle…he hasn't even invited you down there yet…maybe he wouldn't want you to just show up…and you don't even know where you are going.
Sobering slightly at the prospect of the chilly greeting she knew Erik was capable of, Brielle pursed her lips and looked over her shoulder at Aria. Stupid…idea…going wandering off in the cellars looking for him. Most likely he will come around soon anyway. Pushing away from the mirror, she moved to go and sit back onto the bed, but found herself moving to the door and throwing the lock. Returning to the mirror, she paced in front of it for several minutes before reaching up and pressing the hidden mechanism she had seen Erik use to open the mirror. Silently the panel of glass slid open, revealing the darkened passage beyond.
Staring into the darkness, Brielle hesitated. I have told him that I love him…but I don't think he understood. It is time to clarify things. I know he is anxious about Christine being here…and confused…and I wouldn't help that by blurting everything out…but how can he clearly see the situation if he doesn't know? Grabbing a nearby lantern, Brielle lit the wick. Setting it on the table, her resolve hardening, she went over to kneel next to Aria.
She gently woke the child, shaking her lightly. "Momma is going to go and look for Erik behind the mirror. Don't let anyone in the door unless it is Meg or Conner. And stay in this room…don't go running around. Understand?"
Nodding sleepily, Aria rubbed at her eyes and turned over. "I understand…I'll t-tell Uncle C-Conner if he comes."
Standing, Brielle snagged the lantern and stepped through the mirror, sliding the glass shut behind her, leaving it open just a crack in case she couldn't figure out how to open it from the inside. Taking a deep breath, trying to quell her unease, Brielle set off down the hallway. Finding a strange comfort in the quiet of the secret passages, the Irishwoman's optimism returned, making her feel lighter as she strolled along the stone-lined corridor. Time passed quickly, for she hardly even felt her feet touching the ground. She followed a series of staircases downward, pausing every once in awhile to gaze over the edge of the handrail into the inky darkness still looming below her small circle of light.
"God…and he can move through this place in the pitch black too," she said to herself lightly as a sudden unexpected wave of dread chilled her bones. Freezing where she stood, she quickly looked around her for any reason for this feeling. Seeing nothing, she tried to discount the all-too-familiar warning bells wailing in her head. Don't be stupid…I haven't been having nightmares this week. I usually have nightmares if something bad is going to happen…I am just nervous.
"Just nervous," she repeated aloud, tripping slightly over the next step. Laughing, she shook her head. "Calm down…there isn't anything bad down here that could hurt you. I mean only Erik haunts these passages…nothing can hurt you."
Straightening, she blew the bangs of her dark wig out of her eyes. "Gosh, even with a light I am tripping over myself. I can't imagine doing this in the dark." Putting her foot deliberately on the next step, she continued her descent. "I can just see myself breaking my neck in this…"
The floor below her feet opened up beneath her with a great rumble, the stair she had been standing on disappearing in the blink of an eye. Before she could scream, she was falling down into the darkness, her lantern falling out of her hands to clang down the steps. Tumbling through the black for what seemed like ages, she finally found her voice, and screaming at the top of her lungs Brielle cart-wheeled her arms.
Without warning she plunged into freezing cold water, her scream cut off in mid-breath as she was completely submerged. Floundering up to the surface, Brielle gasped for a breath as she treaded water. "What the hell?"
Trying to remain calm, she swam to the side until her fingers made contact with smooth stone. A moment of numb terror struck her before she was able to push it aside and think. Running her hand along the wall, she began searching for a way out of the water. The stairs must have been unstable…I will just find a way out of here and… Rational thought came to an abrupt end when a loud clanging sound began over her head. Looking up, Brielle tried to see the source of the noise but couldn't see anything. What is that?
The clanging grew louder and panic began to take hold. Raising a hand out of the water, Brielle reached upward, toward the metallic ringing. After a moment her fingers brushed along the rough surface of some large metal object. It took only a second for her to realize that the grid-like object was lowering down over her head, pushing her hand downward, pushing her downward and into the water. Oh my god…oh my god…What is this?
Sucking in a deep breath, Brielle screamed at the top of her lungs, her own frightened voice echoing back to taunt her. Pushing madly against the lowering grate, she fought the panic to try and think of something to do, a plan. Finding her way back to the wall she floundered along its surface until her foot bumped against an underwater pipe. Yes, maybe this is the key. Feeling a moment of joy at the discovery, Brielle ducked under the water and felt along the pipe until she found a large slippery wheel. Planting her feet against the wall she gripped the wheel in both hands, sure the moment of her salvation was at hand.
Tensing her entire body, she gave the wheel one great heave, and nothing happened. Trying again she was met with the same results. Bouncing back up to the surface she gasped for breath and went under again, pulling frantically at the wheel. She was just not strong enough.
Returning to the surface again, her hope fading, Brielle felt the grate begin to press down against the top of her head. Tilting her face upward, she began to hyperventilate, screaming between every other breath. I can't die here…Aria is sleeping upstairs…Erik doesn't even know how I feel…I can't die here! Her screams began to sputter as her mouth was pushed below the surface of the water. Gripping the metal bars in her hands, Brielle struggled for breath, wintry cold water bubbling into her mouth.
I can't die here…I can't die here…I knew this was a stupid idea…I should have known better. In the distance she thought she heard a muted sound, like the scratch of shoe leather against stone, but the noise of her own garbled breath echoed too loudly in her ears for her to be sure. Pressing her face flush up against the grate, she felt the water washing up and over her cheeks. Filling her lungs one last time, she didn't have time to scream before she was completely submerged.
Floating in the stinging cold darkness, she felt the pressure in her chest begin to build, a burning like nothing she had felt before spreading like fire through her lungs. I won't die here…I…I won't…Lights began to dance before her eyes, and suddenly the panic began to fade. I won't…die. Closing her eyes, she felt the overpowering need to just breathe in, to give in. I won't…
The lights grew in size until she saw nothing else, and then she saw nothing. I…I…won't……………………………………….