40

Katrina sat in box five, listening to the crowd outside. Every so often, the sounds would grow softer as folk drifted home.

Sophie stepped in gracefully, and took her granddaughter's hands in her own. "You were magnificent tonight! Even Erik said you have never done better."

The great brown eyes lifted from the carvings on the rail and fixed the older woman in their stare. "I'm allowed to surprise him once in a while, I think."

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure, something about what Andre said." Katrina looked at her grandmother thoughtfully. "I seem to have developed Uncle Erik's gift for shocking people into states."

Sophie shook her head. "Don't be absurd. You did what any artist is supposed to do, rattle people, make them look at themselves again. You've warded off any harmful comments we might have made. I'd say you ought to be proud of yourself."

"Perhaps, but there's something else, something I can't really explain. It's a feeling, but quite strong. I think something is going to change again." Katrina sighed, and raised her eyes to keep the tears of vexation from spilling. "It seems to be my lot in life to mend the gaps between people."

"You are not happy it is so?"

"It is not always comfortable."

Sophie frowned, remembering the look in Madame Gerard's eyes, the clasping of her husband's hands. Yes, it would not be comfortable. But unlike Andre, she no longer believed in running from trouble. "You will have to go down and thank the patrons. You can wait no longer. You will see them."

"I know, Grandmamma."

"They have been given time to compose themselves, that is all you have the power to give. Go and do your duty as you always have, and I am sure all will be well." Sophie stood, and turned her grandchild's face so she could see the eyes clearly. "If there is trouble, you have an entire opera and the Phantom to back you. I would not be overly worried."

Katrina smiled at that, and watched her elegant relative depart. She knew they were all slipping down to the lake house to have cocktails and celebrate in private with Erik. Oh, how she wished she could go there instead of facing the patrons!

Yet, as her grandmother had observed, there was always duty.

She stood, and walked out of the box, down the stairs, and to the tables where the patrons were gathered. Most were high society members, some were trying to be. The difference was painfully obvious in most cases. Katrina could not see the Gerards or Andre in the crowded foyer, so she put on as cheerful a smile as she could, and greeted each person warmly.

It was over eventually, and she turned with a sigh to find her way home when a desperate hand clutched her arm. Madame Gerard stood there, wrapped and veiled as if ready to leave, but the warmth of her fingers showed that she had been hiding inside for a while.

The older woman's voice was a horse hiss as she said, "You much run, child, run and hide. He should be dead, the paper said so. Oh, he cannot be alive, but that was his music, and you have his soul in your voice. Leave before he kills for you, come with us! My husband would not forbid it, I could employ you. Please, oh, please!"

Katrina glanced about and saw that no one noticed the urgent behavior. Drawing the woman to a side room, she begged her to sit still and brought her a cup of tea with a few drops of brandy masked by sugar and cream. After she had drunk the mixture, Madame Gerard sighed, and drew off her gloves slowly.

"Thank you, child, I am so very sorry. It would not have done for anyone to see hysterics."

Katrina smiled politely. "I do understand, but tell me, where is your family? I did not see them outside."

"I sent them on, saying I wanted to see an old friend. I don't think they entirely believed me, but to raise an objection in front of Philippe; that would have brought disaster. I'll not have him mixed up in our past, not for anything!" Her blue eyes filled with tears. "Oh, oh, we came to end the ghosts in our minds, and it has only begun anew! Do come with me, say you will!" She grabbed Katrina's hands.

The younger woman looked into those tortured eyes, saw the shadows that still blocked the sun, no matter how warm the day and found something to ask.

"Tell me, Madame, why are you so concerned about my welfare? After all, by your own admission, you came to disperse your night terrors. Mine should not inhibit you."

The woman weighed the choices, considered leaving, considered what would happen if she bared her soul to this child, and opted to take the risk. "Listen to what I say, Mademoiselle, and then perhaps you will understand my motives.

"When I was about your age, perhaps younger even, I came to this house to make my living as best I could. My father was a musician, and notes ran deep in me. I was known then as Christine Daae. Madame Giry took me under her wing, looked after me, and when the…when what I supposed was the Angel of Music came to me, she encouraged it. I took instruction from them both unquestioningly, I sold my soul, had I but known!

"Several unfortunate things happened to allow me to sing as lead soprano, and from then on it was a war. My Angel was no divine creation, but a monster, a piteous man doomed to a fate worse than death. He caged me, forbid me to have a friend, a breath, tortured me with a demand I could not meet. You have no doubt heard the rumors, the whispers, and they are all true. Believe them, listen and look over your shoulder as they follow you!

"But I digress. Yes, in that last final hour, he took me below, nearly killed my love and one other who had tried to help us. I at last was able to convince him that…but you do not need to know specifics, only that I faced a terrible choice. Had he not relented when I begged him, set us all free at last…" She trembled, and clasped Katrina anew.

"Come with me, be my maid, my companion, sister, whatever you choose. Raoul will not forbid it, and Andre is already your friend. I can replace whatever you leave behind, only leave this night, thins moment!"

Katrina pondered her words before speaking. It was a dangerous game to play, but she had no choice in the matter.

"You speak of Erik Lefevre, the Phantom of the Opera. Doomed to wander the world as a reminder of what lies within us. Fated ever to be tragedy and triumph, hope and despair, harmony and discord. Yes, I know him well, Madame Gerard, for he is the brother of my mother, my guardian, my friend. He has raised me the past fourteen years. He is the father of my cousins, and when he passes from this world will be the purest love I lose. Yes, Madame, I know him well, and will not go with you."

Christine had grown increasingly pale and still. She tried to rise and stopped herself, as if knowing it would be unwise. "It is not possible," she murmured, "this cannot be."

"Your ghost is gone; he has released you, Christine. His shadow is only in your imagination now. Tell your husband so, and if your son ever learns of this, you can tell him the Angel of Music no longer lives in hell." Katrina stood, and helped the woman to rise. "I can arrange for you to be taken to your hotel, Uncle Jacques would be happy to loan you his carriage for a half an hour."

"Yes, that would be best, I think." She managed, looking at this strange child anew, and not sure that she liked what she saw.

Katrina helped her out, explained to Jacques that Madame Gerard was overtired and needed transport. He agreed to loan his driver and vehicle, and the younger woman saw the older safely into her seat. Katrina gazed at the woman for a moment before saying, "Forgive me Madame, I was not kind before. Know that Uncle Erik will never hold you a grudge, and I certainly won't. Things have changed, and I thought it best you knew how much. Goodnight."

With that, the coach pulled out, and Katrina's face blurred into a pale smudge, vanishing altogether as the driver turned a corner.