Author's Note: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.
39
Everyone slept in the next morning, and the opera house was contentedly quiet as Kayla sauntered back down to her office. She sat in the wooden chair, feet propped up on the edge of her desk, and stared at the gown displayed in the corner of the room. It was gorgeous, that was for certain, and the longer she looked at it the clearer it became that this was not, in fact, the dress she had designed. Sure, it contained some of the elements she had drawn; the Beauty and the Beast-esque bodice and ribbon-like sleeves, for one, but it was clear that her initial drawing had been expanded far beyond what she had originally envisioned. The colours were simple, black, white, and blue, and a black domino mask was perched on the desk in front of her. It looked far more like something from her own time period than that of 1870s France. "I'm going to cause a damn scandal," she muttered, narrowing her eyes as she attempted to mentally measure how the dress would fit on her. Her analysis concluded that the skirt was going to be fairly short, and the bodice would be tight. It looked like it would fit, however, though how Erik had gotten her measurements was something Kayla refused to consider.
The next few days passed in a haze of food and relaxation, the most common activity being the stage hands and the cavaliers taking communal naps on the stage, lounging about on the ground like puppies. On the 27th, the senior set crew, the rest of the ballet corps, and the managers returned to the Populaire. And Kayla was immediately called into the manager's office. Luckily, when the summons arrived, Carlotta was visiting, and insisted on joining her.
"We have had a complaint from the Vicomte," Firmin stated when Kayla and the diva are seated.
"Is it appropriate to have La Carlotta…?" Andre began awkwardly.
"I dare you to try and make me leave," Carlotta snapped.
"She's staying," Kayla agreed flatly. The managers exchanged a confused glance before Firmin spoke again.
"The Vicomte seemed concerned for your mental wellbeing, and claims that you behaved aggressively towards him. Now, he wished to be clear that your job is not at risk and that he harbours no resentment, but that he would like to take a more active role in the set department. He believes the sharing of the management would help make your job easier."
"He proposed having some meetings with you to discuss such an arrangement," Andre suggested cheerfully.
"No."
"I beg your pardon, signora?"
"Like Carlotta said, no," Kayla interjected angrily.
"The Vicomte only has your best interests at heart," Firmin coaxed.
"Answer me this, was Faust a success or not?"
"It was…"
"Was the set and the backstage well organized during Faust? Or Il Muto, for that matter?"
"Of course, but –"
"Was the Vicomte involved in set management for either of those performances?"
"No, but –"
"I rest my case. I can do my job perfectly well without the Vicomte's help. If I have to take it easier next rehearsal round, any slack will be picked up by Jamie and Germaine. They are my second-in-commands, not the Vicomte. And I certainly won't make a point of having meetings with him if our patron insists on making up blatant lies about me."
"If our patron wishes it, I really must insist –"
Carlotta slammed her hand down on the arm of her chair. The managers started back in astonishment. "If you try to make Abbots 'ave meetings with da Vicomte dat she does not wish to 'ave, I swear to you dat I will quit. And it will take far more dan Abbots and doggies to bring me back."
"Really, signora…"
"Look at Mademoiselle Abbots and tell me dat she would be anything but respectful to da Vicomte! She is not mad, and da Vicomte is ridiculous to think she is! If anything it was da Vicomte that behaved aggressively, ask any of da guests at my last two parties."
"Signorina-"
"Dis is her first Christmas away from 'er family! It should be perfectly reasonable that she is not feeling 'er best! And da Vicomte trying to speak to her constantly when she does not wish it does not 'elp! If you make Abbots share her position with da Vicomte, I will quit! Dat is my last word on da matter!"
Utterly defeated, the managers let Carlotta and Kayla leave.
"Nice one, Carlotta."
"He would 'ave… I don't know what he would 'ave done, but it would not 'ave been good for you. Proud men ar' dangerous."
Not another word was spoken by the managers concerning the matter.
Christine returned to the Populaire on the 30th, with Raoul sticking to her like a shadow. Fortunately, Raoul left her side for just enough time for Jamie to initiate his welcoming committee. The Raoul Revenge Plot had only escalated in light of recent events; though they were not privy to the more scandalous details, the stage crew, and therefore their close friends the cavaliers, were well aware of Kayla's flight through the hallways and the assault at Carlotta's Christmas party. Jamie had taken the affronts greatly to heart, and adopted jealously as his weapon of choice. The most recent attack was a grand scheme which involved every single member of the adolescent stage hands and senior cavaliers approaching the young soprano with a pick up line, all of which were completely original and had not been provided by Kayla. So upon her arrival, Christine was flirted with by twenty three different young men. Jamie went last, and Raoul returned just as the hazel haired stagehand was bestowing a kiss on the patron's secret fiancé's pale hand.
"Beverly!" Raoul yelled, marching forward furiously.
Jamie smiled and saluted before he fled.
The young men assembled cheered as Jamie raced away with the Vicomte hot on his heels.
Jamie did not reappear until dinner, and he received a standing ovation as he strode triumphantly into the dining hall. "I wasn't able to lose him until backstage. I had to hide up in the catwalk."
Kayla went down to the lair on the 30th. Erik was sitting at the organ, staring at something in his hands. "Hi, what's that?"
He held up a couple sheets of paper. "Did you leave these on purpose?"
Kayla squinted. He was brandishing some of her small drawings at her. "Oh, yeah, that was for Christmas, I was kind of broke… which one is that?"
Erik leaned over the paper, bringing it a little closer to the light of the candles. "It's the one of the outside of the Populaire… and the sketch of the stage… and the one where I am tiny and wrapped up in a cloak and my head is proportionally way too large for my body."
"Ah, yes, chibi Erik."
"Chibi?"
"It's a cartoon style."
There was a moment of silence.
"It's strangely intriguing. Thank you, mademoiselle."
"Merry Christmas. Oh, and speaking of Christmas, what's with the taffeta extravaganza in my office?"
"For the masquerade, of course. What else would it be for?"
"Did you seriously take all that time and make that?"
"The score is complete, the binding of the set book is nearly finished. I had a few moments to spare."
"A few moments? Really? How long did it take you to make that?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Did you stay up all night to finish that?"
"I do not sleep, mademoiselle."
"Well, I appreciate it anyway. I really love it, I can't wait to wear it."
"I hope so."
"...But just one thing, did you make the skirt that short on purpose? It's not like it's that short… well, maybe for 1870, but it's not that short for my taste. Just didn't seem like something you'd design, that's all."
It may just have been a trick of the candlelight, but Kayla could have sworn she saw Erik blush. When he spoke, however, his voice was even. "You do not strike me as the kind of woman who wishes to be mere decoration. And judging by your strange affinity for trousers, you appreciate mobility."
"Quite right. Just checking," Kayla grinned. "Do you have your costume done?"
"Yes, I do. Your notes on your sketches were… most helpful."
Kayla clapped her hands excitedly. "We are going to look absolutely fabulous, darling," she drawled.
Erik sighed and shook his head. "It feels like you are speaking a whole different language at times, mademoiselle."
Kayla laughed. "Well, I don't speak the language of music that you seem to be fluent in, so I suppose we're even."
Most of her time the morning of the 31st was devoted to calming the managers through all the finer preparation details. Nevertheless everything went smoothly; all the decorations and culinary delicacies arrived as scheduled. At noon, Carlotta arrived in a carriage and swept Kayla and her dress away to her mansion to begin the all-important task of getting ready.
"Are you ready to go, Abbots? We're fashionably late already."
The prima donna's question carried from the hall outside hours later. Kayla stared at herself in the mirror, twisting and turning to survey Erik's design from all angles. "Yeah, gimme a minute," she called back. The click-clack of Carlotta's heels moved off.
Kayla turned away from the glass, glancing critically at the black taffeta skirt embroidered with silver stars, the layer open at the front to reveal white silk above the layers upon layers of fluffy dove tulle, and tight bodice, silver embroidered black hugging her sides and ivory white covering the front of her torso. Dark cerulean sleeves hung off her shoulders, leaving her collarbone and shoulders bare, as well as her arms. A sash of the same blue shade wrapped loosely around her, held to her arms by silver bands around her biceps. Slightly lighter blue silk striped widely from her right hip to the gold embroidered hem of the knee length skirt. Cocking her head, she looked herself up and down, from the small silver moon on the edge of her mask to the black slippers trimmed with cerulean ribbon and silver stars. Dark cerulean ribbons wove up her ankles and calves. She picked her own addition off of the dressing table: the tiny top hat. She stuck it on her head, tucking the black headband beneath waved locks of blonde hair. She studied herself in the mirror as she tied the ribbon of her mask around the back of her head. With her face half-concealed, dark blue eyes peering out behind the black material, Kayla could only see traces of herself in the woman in the mirror. She did not look like Kayla Abbots, set crew manager, but she did not resemble Kayla Abbots, Fine Arts student, either. Tilting her head, she smiled at her reflection. The spectre beamed almost seductively back. Tonight, Kayla was not herself; tonight, she was the Magician.
Carlotta's carriage pulled to a stop in front of the Opera House. Fireworks exploded like splashes of paint across the ink black sky, colours twinkling like gems amongst diamond stars. Carlotta pulled and yanked at her long gold skirt as she struggled out of the carriage and onto the snow dusted steps. As she emerged, the crowds began to cheer, greeting their beloved prima donna with loud adoration. Kayla nervously adjusted the wide silk ribbon of her simple midnight black domino and tugged on one of the wavy locks of her loose hair. Her hair was down, a rare occurrence on which Carlotta had insisted. Piangi too had exited the coach, and the engaged couple was ascending majestically up the steps through crowds of finely dressed guests and into the Populaire.
Kayla tucked her hair back behind her ear and scooted off of the velvet seat, taffeta rustling as she shuffled awkwardly to the door. Carlotta's coachman offered his arm and helped her out. Her bare calves were freezing, snowflakes landing with icy precision on her uncovered shoulders. The other invitees did not spare her a glance as she moved with a rather nervous calmness through the empty wake that Carlotta and Piangi had left behind. She caught up to her companions at the doors. The diva looked her up and down once more, one black eyebrow raised critically. "I do not know who designed dat, but it is perfect for you. Even if it will give de Vicomte a 'eart attack."
"Gees, Carlotta, thanks. Nothing to bolster my confidence like bringing Raoul into it."
The prima donna shrugged and prodded Kayla's exposed shoulder with a sharp black gloved finger. "Unfortunately, dis will bring him into it whether you like it or not. Venire, inside." She took Piangi's arm and dragged her fiancé into the Populaire.
"Monsieur Andre!"
Firmin's loud shout stopped Kayla in her tracks. The gold coated manager wore curling fake rams' horns and held a gold half mask up to his face. A poodle-haired platinum blonde woman was draped over his arm like a scarf. Andre approached his fellow manager in the guise of a rooster, in midnight black with an elaborate red piece and a matching mask, and a giggling white haired woman in ivory and white was gripping his hand. As the two managers stopped in front of each other, they dropped their masks and grinned. Violins and horns swelled from inside the opera house, perfectly replicating the familiar tune. Kayla chuckled; a musical indeed.
"Monsieur Firmin!"
"Dear Andre, what a splendid party!"
"The prelude to a bright new year!"
"Quite a night, I'm impressed…"
"Well, one does one's best!" Andre turned in Kayla's direction and gave a short little bow. Her red lips curled up of their own volition.
"Here's to us!" Firmin sang, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"A toast for the city!"
"What a pity that the Phantom can't be here!" The two men and their tittering companions posed dramatically for a photograph, and the camera flashed brightly.
"Abbots!" Leonardo stepped beside her and nudged her shoulder. "You look quite nice," he complimented.
Kayla turned to the lead cavalier and smiled. The dancer was only recognizable by his black hair and voice; his mask, half white, half black, covered the entirety of his face. Crisp black coattails covered a pale gold waistcoat, a bowtie of the same metallic hue, and black slacks. "Merci, Leo. You don't look too shabby yourself."
"Come inside, Avère and the prima ballerinas are here as well… we'll be the best dancers here, join our triumph, Abbots!"
Kayla strode into the crowded room with her head held high, Leonardo's hand tugging her gently through the swirling masses of guests. Gold, black, and white, or any combination thereof, seemed to be in fashion for the evening. There was a flash of pink and bronze lined obsidian in her peripheral vision, the new shades vanishing as the lead cavalier pulled her deeper into the crowd.
"Masquerade! Paper faces on parade,
Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you!
Masquerade! Every face a different shade,
Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!"
All around her the voices soared, singing their perfect notes in eerie unison. Tripping lightly up the marble stairs, Kayla found both her hands snatched, one by Leonardo and the other by Avère. The blonde dancer was attired in a cap with cat ears, a sable coat swishing around his narrow hips and sparkling with jeweled embroidery. Grey eyes glittered mischievously from behind a black domino. "Black, white, and blue. An interesting choice," Avère greeted leaning down to plant a kiss on her hand. "What identity have you assumed tonight, my lady?"
Kayla laughed. "I never even thought to ask!"
"So you were not involved?" His eyes glanced over her bare shoulders, down the wide short skirt, and down to her bare legs and black slippers. "That would explain the economical fabric usage and feminine design…"
"Know what's good for you and shut up, Avère."
"Flash of mauve, splash of puce
Fool and king, ghoul and goose
Green and black, queen and priest
Trace of rouge, face of beast
Faces!"
Select members of the cast and ballet corps were gathered up on the landing of the stairs, engaging in a friendly dance competition as other guests watched from the balcony above and from the dance floor below. Reyer, in his customary suit and a simple silver striped mask, watched the frivolity from the next level up as he conducted the musicians.
"Take your turn, take a ride,
On the merry -go-round, in an inhuman race
Eye of gold, true is false, who is who?
Curl of lip, swirl of gown,
Ace of hearts, face of clown
Faces!
Drink it in, drink it up, till you've drowned
In the light, in the sound
But who can name the face?"
Avère appeared with flutes of sparkling champagne for her and Gaelle Leroux, the other prima ballerina. Though very different in personality from Kayla, Gaelle was very close in age, and in that fact alone the two girls found quite a bit of common ground. They were engaged in a discussion of the pros and cons of being the subject of hero worship Leonardo descended and re-ascended the steps, waiting patiently as the guests in the informal queue ahead of his took their respective turns on the "stage".
"Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds,
Masquerade! Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you!"
As the previous dancer skipped aside, Leonardo bounded into the centre of the landing, freezing in place before snapping back into graceful mechanical motions, twisting limbs and isolating his movements with all the precision of an automaton. The crowd cheered as Leonardo leapt forward and pulled Kayla towards him. Shrieking, Kayla let the young man position her arms in his as they moved into a mechanical waltz. Stopping and freezing and dancing in motorised twists and slides, Kayla noted with a grin that their improvised style contained footwork similar to modern shuffling.
"Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads,
Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!"
As if they had been choreographed, the guests walked slowly down the stairs in graceful pairs, Leonardo on the left with Kayla and Avère on the right with a silver-draped Gaelle. The music slowed and almost stopped, replaced with chiming staccato notes.
"Masquerade! Seething shadows breathing lies,
Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you!
Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes,
Masquerade! Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you."
Carlotta and Piangi, feathered shimmering turbans drawing attention to their exotic metallic costumes, strolled arm and arm down to the landing, followed closely by Madame Giry and her daughter. Kayla had to bite her tongue to resist the urge to shout at the sixteen year old that that the level of her neckline was not the best option in the present company.
"What a night!" Carlotta crowed.
"What a crowd!" Firmin exclaimed, moving down onto the landing from the opposite staircase. The opera stars and the managers held their masks off their faces.
"Makes you glad…" Andre warbled
"Makes you proud! All the crème, de la crème…"
"Watching us..." Madame Giry sang ominously.
"Watching them…"
"All our fears are in the past!" Meg's sweet voice overlapped.
"Three months…"
"Of relief!" Piangi boomed.
"Of delight!" the dive agreed.
"Of Elysian peace!"
"And we can breathe at last," Firmin sighed.
"No more notes…"
"No more ghost..."
Madame Giry nodded at Kayla as she continued the musical speech. "Here's a health…"
"Here's a toast, to a prosperous year!" Andre cried.
"To our friends who are here…"
"And may da splendor never fade!" Carlotta raised her mask into the air like a salute.
"What a blessed release!"
"And what a masquerade!" Madame Giry flourished her delicate fan with the grace only a true ballerina could possess.
Kayla surveyed the crowd as she and Leonardo moved back up to the landing and leaned against the railing, watching the party play out below. She could see Christine and Raoul practically floating into the room.
"Think of it!" Christine's voice echoed in Kayla's ear as the distant figure of the young soprano clung tightly to her suitor's arm. "A secret engagement. Look, your future bride. Just think of it."
"But, why a secret? What have we to hide? You promised me…"
"No, Raoul, please don't let them see…"
"Well, let them see. It's an engagement, not a crime. Christine, what are you afraid of?"
"Let's not argue…"
"Let's not argue…"
"Please pretend…"
"I can only hope…"
"You will understand in time!"
"I'll understand in time!"
Kayla's attention was drawn away from the couple by a hand on her bare shoulder. "Dance with me, Abbots!" Leonardo entreated, taking up her hand and spinning her through the throngs on the landing. She laughed, watching the world spinning around her, anchored to the grip of Leonardo's hand around hers and the sight of the bicoloured mask and laughing brown eyes. She was surrounded by a nebulae of blue, silver, and gold. Swatting at Leonardo as he slowed to a stop, she dizzily noted the two fans he was handing to her.
"What's this, then?"
The dancer only pulled her to the stairs, positioning her into a line of other guests. The music slowed once more. Realization hit Kayla like a runaway train. "I can't dance, Leo!" she snarled in a whisper at the cavalier, whom she could sense was grinning under his mask. The drums pounded to a crescendo.
"Masquerade! Paper faces on parade,
Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you!"
Kayla, standing just behind Leonardo, held up the fans and tried to copy him as best as she could. Up, flip, down, flip, clockwork rhythm and simple movements working in her favour for once. She stumbled more than once as Gaelle, the other prima ballerina, helpfully nudged her as the routine's footwork led the group down the steps.
"Masquerade! Every face a different shade,
Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!"
Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads
Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!
Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds,
Masquerade! Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you..."
Every light in the room suddenly died, bright handles and gas lamps contracting into tiny sparks and casting the room into darkness. Kayla dropped her fans. There was a high pitched scream from the dance floor below, and from in front of her, Leonardo slowly turned around. The dancer threw one of his fans aside and grabbed her hand. Avère was suddenly standing on her other side, also grabbing her hand. Gasps and shrieks filled the room as everyone's gazes landed on the figure standing at the top of the staircase.
"Why so silent, good Messieurs?"
Kayla could hear the sharp percussion and ominous violins and flute playing in her ears as the Red Death strode with predatory calmness down the stairs. "Did you think that I had left you for good?" He had taken her advice, Kayla noticed proudly; gold buttons and embroidery on the crimson jacket instead of his traditional black. His cape swished over the marble behind him, trailing his steps like a fountain of blood. Mere glints of emerald were visible in the gloomy sockets of the ivory skull. His hair looked black as pitch in the dim light.
"Have you missed me, good Messieurs? I have written you an opera! Here, I bring the finished score: Don Juan Triumphant!" Bone white pages covered in spidery script slid out of the black portfolio as he threw his masterpiece to the floor at the managers' feet. Steel screeched as he drew his sword. "Fondest greetings to you all. A few instructions just before rehearsal starts…Carlotta must be taught to act, not her normal trick of strutting round the stage." He paced forward menacingly and flicked the feathers in Carlotta's hair with the tip of his sword. The diva spluttered in wordless indignation. Piangi leapt in front of her, and was rewarded by the foil prodded at his stomach. "Our Don Juan must lose some weight. It's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age." Lowering the weapon, the lethal, slender metal swung carelessly through the air as he approached a cowering Firmin and Andre. "And my managers must learn that their place is in an office, not the arts." The blade shone in the candlelight as it waved in front of the managers' faces, both of whom looked like they were about to go into cardiac arrest. The face of bone tuned slowly, looking down to where Kayla was flanked by the two cavaliers a few steps below. "I bring the staging book as well, all of my designs are in their proper place." He withdrew a bound set book from an indiscernible location like pulling a rabbit out of a hat. It was bound in black, the title emblazoned in curling gold. Kayla's eyes widened at the idea that her art was in such a professional looking book.
He tossed it.
Kayla shrieked in horror and leapt, catching the volume at the last minute. The book was saved as Kayla hit the marble with a painful thunk. Avère and Leonardo bounded forward and dragged her back to her feet and away from the Phantom. Red Death grinned grimly, practically laughing as he sang once more. "My little manager shall do well, I trust my instructions will be obeyed." Kayla gave a tiny nod, swaying as pain crept up the side on which she had landed.
"As for our star, Miss Christine Daäe..."
Every eye in the room went straight to the young soprano, standing alone in the middle of the ballroom. Raoul was nowhere in sight.
"No doubt she'll do her best, it's true, her voice is good. She knows, though should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn, if pride will let her return to me, her teacher, her teacher..."
The room was silent except for the soft melody of a violin. It seemed that everyone was holding their breaths in anticipation – or in fear. Christine, staring in dumbstruck awe at her former teacher, slowly approached the stairs as the Phantom descended them. One step, and another, and another, until they were mere inches apart. Kayla glowered at the adoration she could still see in the Phantom's eyes. There was the tapping of boots from the level above, and Kayla turned her head slightly and glared at the Vicomte, who was attempting to be stealthy as he sneaked down the open hall and to the stairs above the Phantom.
There was a collective gasp of fear as there was a loud metallic snap. Kayla whipped back around just in time to see the Phantom brandishing the chain and engagement ring in Christine's face. "Your chains are still mine, you belong to me!" With feline agility, he leapt back up the stairs, and posed dramatically in the centre of the landing, snarling at the guests of the masquerade. With a billow of thick smoke, the Phantom disappeared with a swoosh of his cape. Raoul dove after him, drawing his sword as he did so. Tugging away from Avère and Leonardo, Kayla shoved the set book into Leonardo's hands, kicked off her shoes and, after a millisecond of hesitation, she too bolted up the steps and jumped into the hole.
Author's Note: Here you are, the Masquerade, as promised. It's really late, so I'm going to bed, but thank you all so much for the reviews and the follows and favourites, and if you recently did any of the former and I have not responded, I will, I promise! Review and let me know what you think!
Thank you! Love you all!
Hugs,
Tierney
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