Author's Note: Phantom of the Opera belongs to Webber, Leroux, and other respective parties. I only own Kayla and my original characters.
7
The Phantom crept softly across the balcony, staring in shock at the scene playing out before his eyes. Buquet had the new stage hand in a choke hold, and the girl's face was red from the effort she was exerting to escape. As he watched, the girl slipped out from under Buquet's arms and sharply tugged on the rope that released the cloud. "Take that, you moronic douche bag!" the girl crowed. Though she sounded quite pleased, her entire body was quivering with rage. Buquet grabbed her again. On the stage below, Christine began her octave climb.
The young woman was thrashing about like a wild animal. Her deep blue eyes blazed with fury, and her dark blonde locks were escaping from the tie she was using to hold it back. Her delicate-looking hands left painful looking scratches on Buquet's skin. Just as Christine's voice soared to the final high note, the girl tore away and pulled the rope back to its original position and quickly knotted it, skillful as if she had been working in a theatre her entire life. "You were saying?" the girl asked sarcastically.
Buquet's body tensed and his words carried to where the Phantom silently stood. "You bitch," the stage hand growled as he struck her across the face.
The girl stumbled back as Buquet's hand made contact. She flailed for balance on the edge of the catwalk, slipped, and fell. Catching herself on one of the ropes, the girl clung on desperately as Buquet bolted off the catwalk, unwilling to stick around and take responsibility for the murder, like the coward he was. And the death of the girl would once again be attributed to the Opera Ghost. In a split second, the Phantom decided that he would not allow this girl's blood to stain his hands. As soon as Buquet was out of sight, the dark shadow sprang down onto the catwalk.
One of the girl's hands slipped off, and she weakly reached up for the rope, but to no avail. Her glowing eyes flickered shut, and the final fingers slipped off.
He caught her by her shoulders before she dropped more than a couple of inches. She was tall, taller than Christine but still shorter than he was, and quite light and slender, so it took the Phantom almost no effort at all to lift her back up onto the catwalk. Lowering the girl down, the Phantom examined her face with the air of a man who had never seen a woman up close before. Tendrils of blonde hair were scattered over her forehead and across her cheeks. Her right cheek was emblazoned with the bright red print of Buquet's hand. He brushed a few silky locks behind her ear, cautiously, as if she were an animal that would bite if he moved too fast. When the applause of the audience doubled as the music for the next scene began, the girl stirred.
"Merde," she moaned, and the Phantom stifled a chuckle. Releasing her shoulders, the Phantom crouched down a short distance away. Blinking her long lashes and squinting, the girl struggled up, propping herself up on her elbows. Her confused blue eyes focused on him, and she emitted a small squeak of surprise.
The Phantom stood and retreated into the shadows, hoping that she had not seen his face. The girl continued to look in his direction, and the Phantom had the strangest feeling that she could see him through the gloom. "Merci, Monsieur Fantôme," she squeaked.
The Phantom of the Opera did not reply to her thanks, but leapt back to the balcony and disappeared into the darkness, a small smile playing about the corners of his mouth.
Author's Note: A shorter chapter today, but the next one should be up soon, and we will be back to Kayla's point of view. Thank you to all those who have followed and favourtied, and thanks to the guest reviewers, Miss Mo and E-man-dy-S for their reviews, and apologies for the cliff-hanger of the previous chapter. Now, you all know the drill: please review or PM with any questions, comments, or critiques! Thank you to all the readers for the support!
Thanks!
Tierney