Early update! :D I was supposed to update this on Sunday, but I have to go out of town that day so I probably wouldn't have the chance. Plus, I am off these next two day due to Hurricane Sandy, so I figured why not! Thank you for the continued support of the reviewers, alerters, and favoriters. It means so much to me that you guys are enjoying this story still! This chapter has nothing new to it, I couldn't see changing any of it. Hope you enjoy it!
Chapter V: Pandora's Box
Erik smiled to himself satisfied when he walked into his box from a passageway. Empty, just how it should be. He looked over from the corner to see the audience seated and the opera already beginning. He couldn't remember the last time that he had even seen an opera from here. It wasn't six years ago, the Vicomte made sure to steal it away from him and Carlotta's voice made him skip out on some, not standing the fact that her voice would split his hearing. Erik watched as the beginning scene was only just starting as he took his seat in his dark corner. Little did he hear the soft opening of the door behind him.
The woman's voice, familiar and one that he had heard before many times, came to him, "So, the rumours are true." Erik didn't have to turn his head to know who it is.
He acknowledged her curtly, no matter how her tone sounded to him. "Madame."
"Why are you here, Erik?" Madame Giry asked, staying by the entrance of the box with her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyebrows were furrowed, but her face didn't even show a bit of emotion that would hint of how she was feeling about his presence in front of her.
Erik shrugged and he answered thinking it to be the most obvious, "I'm here watching the opera." The sarcasm in his tone didn't even go by unnoticed to her. He hadn't changed one bit.
"Yes, I see that," she stated, "but what I don't understand is why you are here watching the opera. They said that you were dead in the papers." Erik tilted his head up curiously and looked down at himself to see that his body was very much attached. He didn't understand the propaganda that would spur around in France. He knew that he had left his mask when he went into hiding, but when he thought it to be safe to come back into his lair they had left it.
He turned to take in the familiar image of Antoinette, though he could see that she had grown older in these six years, she was definitely a familiar image. It was highly doubted that his old friend would be his friend after the fire all those years ago. "Well," he started, "I couldn't very much leave my opera house to people who would believe words in a petty paper, now could I?" His mockery wasn't at all taken by her... ever. He knew that she was far from happy in seeing him, or hearing him rather, he was in the dark part of the box, but his silhouette could be noticed by the observant.
The new soprano saw my silhouette the week before very clearly, he thought to himself. The woman was definitely curious and observant, he'd admit. That could get her in trouble.
"Erik," Erik could hear the concern in her voice as she spoke, he turned forward, watching the three witches on stage, though he would admit that he wasn't paying mind to it, "you shouldn't have come." He heard slight footsteps behind him and then someone sit next to him. She told him, "You and I both know that no one has forgotten about the fire six years ago, if you get caught..." she trailed off not stating what was obvious to the both of them.
Erik didn't show no worry. He was just as elusive as he once had been. He hid his smug tone from her, though it was hard, as he replied, "Then I mustn't get caught. Please, Antoinette," Giry cringed visibly hearing her name escape his lips, this was a mistake, she was beginning to think. She didn't want anything to do with him this time as she was staying in the Opera Populaire. He continued to her, "it's almost as if you have no faith in me at all."
Giry remained silent and stood up from the seat, noticing that she should take her leave to help out backstage. "I must go, I only wanted to check if you were alive and if what the performers' mouths are spilling were rightfully being spilled." She straightened her black dress. Erik didn't pay mind to her as she was making her exit. Antoinette noticed that his mind was actually wandering somewhere else. His eyes locked onto something off stage... behind the curtain. She curiously followed his gaze and found her shoulders falling and her face softening.
"Stay away from her," she said quickly and out of her control. Erik turned his head at her abruptly. Madame Giry couldn't even hide what she had just said to him. Erik narrowed his eyes at her daringly, however he knew that he couldn't do anything to her even if he tried. She continued, barely phased, "She's too in her world, and curious, she doesn't need for history to repeat itself."
Erik stood up, being bothered by what she said. What was she implying to him? That she was like his... Christine? Impossible! He said through his teeth, "She's not her."
"And nor would she ever be," the madame stated firmly and not phased to him. She hadn't changed at all, not even a small bit; had she? She was still stubborn and insufferable like he had remembered. The two stood like that for a while, the tension was only growing between them as the time continued to elapse. "You're looking at her almost as if you want her to be."
Ridiculous. The woman was being utterly ridiculous. He was not. But he looked away.
He was only intrigued if anything. He could care less for the soprano. How dare she make her as a comparison to his angel? The mademoiselle intrigued him, that was all. She wasn't even that talented as Christine was, and Christine could've been a lot more talented if she finished her lessons. Signora Baccelli, was not his Christine, that was for sure. Madame Giry could almost see how offended he was actually by that remark of hers, but she didn't comment.
She was waiting for some sort of response from him, knowing that she had taken a stab at the already wounded man. Antoinette could almost see his body shaking from anger, or was it her imagination?
Slowly, he looked back up at her. To her surprise, she saw a change in the Phantom. Erik seemed like he wanted to change from being a murderer. He admitted, trying to remain calm, "Caught my interest is all."
"Don't let your interest get the best of you then," Giry told him warningly. Erik narrowed his eyes, making them light green slits.
"I thought you were leaving, Madame. So, leave me be," he told her coldly, wanting her to leave and get out of his sight as soon as possible. It took him a moment to compose himself and Giry stood there while he had done so. He sat back down in his chair and rested his elbow on an arm rest, wishing there was a small glass of some sort of spirit in his hand, preferably whiskey. He was trying hard to not let his eyes go to the woman who was soon about to take the stage, but failing as he had done so. From the distance, he could see the nervous creases on her forehead, how her eyes were roaming the stage as if it was a monster ready to devour her as a meal.
Erik could see that she was scared and nervous. She should be, he mused in his head. It was her first performance, she made changes with Reyer to the music three days before, and it was a full house... surprisingly, clearly aristocrats weren't the brightest despite their education. Theresa... yes, Theresa, (Erik was surprised that he had remembered her name) had every right to be nervous.
He hadn't noticed that Madame Giry was still behind him until he heard her again, "I have not forgotten what had happened six years ago..."
Erik took in a sharp breath, his lips going into an immediate frown as he had cast his eyes downward, "Nor should you."
"I should turn you in and tell them that you are indeed alive." Erik didn't answer her, neither objecting or accepting that. He knew that she was right, in fact, he had no reason to live once Christine was gone. The agony and pain would've been a lot less if he had been caught and put to death, for some reason, he couldn't recall... he hadn't been able to. "But I will not, monsieur," Erik looked slowly back up and turned his head to look at her behind his shoulder confused. "Do not let me think otherwise, Erik. My mind can easily change like the next."
Erik replied after swallowing what seemed to be a huge lump in his throat, "That's understandable. Now are you leaving?"
"Yes," she answered, by her tone it seemed that this time Erik was truly alone, "Goodbye, Erik." And with that, Madame Giry left his box and he waited until he heard a soft click of the door shutting. He turned to face the stage with a heavy sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment, unsure of the woman's début to the audience. He hadn't listened to the rehearsals since she had persuaded Reyer to change the music, he was surprised with this girl... and like Erik had told Giry, she had sparked a certain interest in him on the rooftop.
When he opened his eyes once again, Theresa was making her appearance on stage with a messenger. Lady Macbeth, the sweet, awful liar was playing a manipulative, strong female. Erik couldn't wait to hear this.
However, when she opened her mouth her voice was different. She hit more low notes than high, and when she would hit high notes her voice would soar over the audience to overwhelm them. Erik's face slowly dropped as he continued to listen, genuinely he was astonished like the audience. He found himself leaning closer to the light to get a better look as he heard her voice. It no longer strained to be heard and he heard the difference that she was singing more from her diaphragm. She improved, But, there is always a bit more room for it. He thought.
Erik's shoulders fell and he saw the man on the roof who was the tenor. Macbeth.
His voice didn't compliment hers at all. The two didn't belong, he thought. They didn't even harmonize as they clashed, not even the tiniest bit. Theresa definitely showed the seductiveness and the manipulative aspects of the character, exploring each and every one of those aspects.
Their scene was ended with a long round of applause, however, and Erik sat back in his chair. Gulping, he muttered to himself, though it was more of a groan, as he rubbed his forehead, "I might actually give you that rose now, signora." He recalled on the rooftop that she had asked for one if she had done well.
Now, she might get what she would ask for. Though, the show wasn't over yet. She had time to prove him right and her wrong from the thoughts said the week before.
It was time. She heard the calls from her audience from backstage and she felt her chest swell up with happiness. She could cry. Theresa changed from her gown with all the fake stains of blood on it into a white gown, that seemed fit for a wedding in her eyes. Her hair was done differently and her make-up was done again as well. Her heart was pounding against her chest and she felt someone pat her shoulder in comfort. Theresa looked over at Madame Giry, feeling her chest become more tight by the growing second.
Madame Giry gave her a motherly look, one she hadn't seen in what seemed to be ages. "You have already done well, my dear."
"Thank you," Theresa thanked her politely with a bow of her head. She looked from behind the curtain to see that the audience was eagerly waiting for her to come out while Henri was starting to get, well, killed. She gulped, looking up into Box 5 as if she wanted to once again see the figure of the 'Phantom,' but she barely saw that box clearly. Theresa sighed and admitted, "That doesn't calm my nerves though."
Madame Giry chuckled softly and stated, "There is nothing to be worried about. You've already done well and you will only do better with what is coming up." Josef came off the stage with Henri and he gestured for Theresa to throw him the fake head, that didn't look anything like Henri at all. She done so quickly. "And," Madame Giry continued, "now is not the time for you to be worried. You are to be on stage soon, signora." Theresa took a breath, why did the final scene seem to her that it was about to end?
Theresa was counting the minutes, the seconds, she didn't realize that she was holding her breath.
The final note of the last aria was heard and she closed her eyes, wishing that Josef's 'huzzah!' soared for a long while before she was up next. But, before she knew it, she felt someone plant a small kiss on her cheek and a good luck being muttered to her by Henri as the stage was already being cleared. Theresa didn't realize how long ago Madame Giry actually left her side, the scene ended and when she came to her it was a little after it had started.
Theresa looked over to see the familiar backdrop of the set that was for her aria fall. Theresa's eyes locked onto it and she felt someone pushing her shoulder to have her move. With a deep breath, Theresa didn't bother to see who was it that had the audacity to push her onto the stage and she plastered a smile that went from ear-to-ear. She was introduced with applause and praises from the audience and she waved at them, unsure of what else to do...
Her mother would've waved, though she wasn't her any more, she thought that was at least what she should do.
She took center stage and held her chin up high, her smile was trying to turn into a smirk, but she didn't let it. She looked to Monsieur Reyer, and nodded as he held his baton over his stand. The music started and Theresa closed her eyes for a moment as she felt it move her smoothly and swiftly. Almost as if the music was serenading her. Then she opened her eyes, feeling her confidence that wasn't there before well up inside of her.
"The raven's voice croaked the hour of his death.
Yes, I was there, drunken with the power of my mind.
My thoughts were of cruelty.
My thoughts were of success to come.
But now, I stand here, watching those thoughts fall into a pit of fire,
In Hell."
Theresa heard the changes now from the original aria. She saw some of the audience whispering to each other, unsure of how they were taking it. Theresa was actually pleased by that... Good, they noticed them, she thought to herself.
"Because of me my hands won't go clean.
The blood on them will never go away.
Because of me a great king passed,
Along with a friend and father,
Along with a wife and son,
For his security on the crown."
Her voice became more and more harsh and low as she sang each of the previous lines. The music grew louder as she felt its climax unfold. Her sweet smile fell, and she tried not to let the emotion of the aria overwhelm her. She found that that was her problem last time and it was very difficult to fix her control on her voice.
"They say there is a light at the end of the tunnel,
How dark my tunnel is, indeed.
And now... the light is closing in on me!
The dagger of which my Macbeth hath saw,
Is right there... ready for my grasp.
The hilt, I swear, is gleaming toward me,
And as I reach to grab it, I can!"
The music swayed from being powerful to weak, the woodwinds soft tones and the strings' power clashed together, and soon it actually felt like a war. Theresa was glad, that was how it was supposed to sound for her character. When she continued, she felt admirable looks upon her, sending her into her glory. Too bad, the song wasn't gleeful or triumphant, she couldn't smile fully like she wanted to show that she was actually basking in those looks now.
"No cheaters never lose,
If they win, they win to lose.
All cowards have to end at some point,
And if that's true, soon my Macbeth will join me.
Because of me, people died,
For our selfish needs!
And the only way for my hands to be clean,
Is if the blood flows out of me."
The audience seemed stunned for a moment, unmoving. Theresa tried not to gulp as she heard the music go softer and slower, an Andante tempo with a piano tone.
"Because of me, I'm now all alone,
In this cold, dark world.
I leave behind all my possessions,
My fake achievements,
As the strained thought of death will emerge.
And as that thought will emerge..."
The thought of death emerged, actually in her mind, it was strange how she could just relate to her. She didn't understand what it was that they had that she could relate with. She was such a depressing character to portray. The music stopped suddenly, like it was supposed to in the changes. She sang with her voice alone, no music, until the final line and note.
"I just cannot take,"
She paused for a moment, leaving everyone hanging, she looked to Reyer who cued her to make her end, going from high to low.
"Any more!"
Her note wasn't held as long as it was held before, but immediately she had gotten a standing ovation from her audience. Theresa almost felt her world stop as she watched each and every person in the audience actually rise up, yelling, "Bravo!","Magnificent!", etc. Theresa couldn't hide what she was thinking now and she felt a tear caress her cheek as she bowed her head and curtsied as flowers like roses and carnations were thrown at her feet. Theresa did the same thing until she was gestured by a stage hand to take a step back to close the curtain. The exhilarating feeling lasted for a while.
"Padre," she mumbled under her breath as she knelt by her bed. She was still in costume, not really wanting to change. Madame Giry ushered her right to her room, on the way people congratulated her, there was almost a mob by her door! Theresa stayed in here when she left, she didn't know when it was safe to come out. Instead of going to the chapel to pray like she usually would, she prayed by her bedside. Theresa sighed, unsure if he could hear her from heaven, she always doubted it.
"Grazie per la benedizione me stasera. L'ho fatto per voi stasera, in tuo onore, tu e mamma. Lei avrebbe dovuto essere lì, vorrei che tu fossi lì, avresti amato. Mi sentivo come se ci appartenesse, avevi ragione, io ho il dono della musica, essendo nato da una cantante e pianista ... deve essere vero. Mi manchi, ci si sente come te sono morti ieri, ed è stato tredici anni fa in questo giorno. Lasciate che il vostro angelo continuano a guidare a me, padre, per fare regali sempre più di musica. Amen."
Theresa slowly opened her eyes, to be reminded that her room was adorned with flowers and bouquets. She sighed, the smile from the stage still hadn't gone away. Theresa stood up, brushing her costume off of anything dirty. Before she could go behind the screen to change, she caught something white with a stem on her pillow. On the stem was a long, black ribbon with a note tied at the knot. Her smile fell and her lips parted. Theresa made her way slowly to the white rose, tilting her head curiously. She hadn't noticed it when she had walked in there nor when she actually knelt down by her bed.
It was... intriguingly strange that she hadn't noticed it at all.
Theresa carefully took the rose by its stem in her hand and touched the ribbon sceptically. It was fine, silky between her fingers. She brought the rose to her nose instinctively to smell the sweet scent. The note rubbed against her knuckle, reminding her to read that to see who had brought this for her.
Slowly, she took the note, dropping the rose onto her bed and opened it. She read it out loud, her voice going from calm to an astonished tone, "'Signora Baccelli, I'm afraid to say that I owe you this...'" The Phantom of the Opera, her mind immediately thought before even looking at who signed off on it. Theresa closed her eyes for a moment before reading it, "'O.G.'"
She gulped and slowly Theresa tried to shake off her shock. Her eyes scanned the room as she dropped the note, picking the rose back up in her hand. They soon landed on the previously opened mirror. Theresa looked around her room before she made her way over. It was closed. For days, the draft of whatever was behind there could be felt by her since she had opened it a crack, no one noticed that it was opened but her. But now... it was closed. She eyed where the gap used to be curiously and narrowed her eyes as her hand involuntarily moved toward the edge of the mirror to open it once again.
The door behind her opened and Theresa turned around startled to see that it was only Henri with a bouquet in his hand.
"I knew I would find the star of the night in here while the House is celebrating," he mused with an elated smile. Theresa tried to muster one. Her thoughts however were still going back to the mirror and the rose. She didn't realize that she was hiding the rose behind her back so he wouldn't see. "Have you always been a little... what's the word?" He paused, not being able to think of it. She saw how he was swaying a bit as he stood there in front of her. "Not a celebratory person?" Those were several words, she thought.
She nodded, unsure if she wanted to speak. She didn't want to lie, her voice would tremble and her palms would get clammy. Actually, her palms were already getting clammy just by her thinking about the mirror.
"Well doesn't that dampen my mood quite a bit." He told her, holding out the bouquet of flowers to her. Theresa didn't feel the same way she had when she had seen the rose, she would admit. "These are for you, hope you like them." Theresa shyly took them with her free hand, staying put where she was. He needed to leave, she had to get him to leave somehow.
She gulped, like the rose, she held them close to smell the scent. Not as sweet. Theresa mumbled to him, "Thank you, Henri. You really didn't have to get these for me. We are co-workers after all."
"Yes, but they fit you and this is a special time to give you them." For a moment they stood there in an uncomfortable silence, Theresa was only going to ways to get him out. Henri looked at her carefully. He broke the silence, "What's behind your back there, Theresa?"
Her thoughts were broken and she went back to reality, "Hmm?"
"Your back," he stated curiously, his smile falling. "What's behind there?"
Theresa parted her mouth innocently and took the rose out from her back. She gestured to it, thinking of a lie quickly. "Oh, this?" Henri nodded like it was obvious; it was the elephant in the small room. She swallowed a lump in her throat, a nervous lump, before stating quickly, "Just a rose. Don't know who it is from. Came in here and here it was on my bed like it was waiting for me." She thought she was lying, but really she was stating the truth. She shrugged, "Must be a secret admirer. I don't know. You French are romantic sometimes..." What in the hell are you saying, Theresa? Her mind scowled. Theresa mentally slapped herself in the forehead for sounding so stupid.
Henri seemed a bit taken back by that. Why did he seem like that? Theresa bit down her bottom lip as he brought a smile back on his lips that she knew didn't belong there. It was a fake smile that a horrible actor would wear to hide his true face. He stated to her, "Well, let's hope this admirer wouldn't get any ideas. You're too good for that secretive stuff, my lady." He pinched her cheek, only to have her playfully slap it away. The man was still an arrogant one when it came to it. He muttered to her under his breath, but it was barely audible, "Got some competition on my hands."
"Excuse me?" Theresa asked curiously. She actually wasn't sure if she heard that correctly.
Henri shook his head, excusing it, "Nothing, my dear, nothing for your pretty face to think about."
"Oh."
"I just came in here to congratulate you on your début, you sang like a dark angel, my favourite kind," he winked as he began to slowly back away. Theresa raised her eyebrow at her forward friend (or should she even call him that now?). "Oh, and I decided for a date for dinner."
Theresa furrowed her eyebrows at him and gulped, Oh, that promise... I have forgotten about that, she thought to herself. "Dinner? When?"
He shrugged with a smug look in his eyes, "For me to know and for you to find out." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, but she didn't hide the smirk that was tugging on her lips. "But the time span is between tomorrow and the fourth day after, at seven. So, you should dress your best these next four days at seven to be ready because we would leave at the dot, my lady." Lovely, she thought rather sarcastically.
"That's grand," she didn't bother hiding the sarcasm in her tone as she spoke. There wasn't a need to, he knew—like she did—that she wasn't very excited with this surprise; she didn't like surprises and it was like he knew that not telling her the plans for dinner would drive her insane. Get him out of here! Her mind shouted and she was just reminded of how before she was making him leave... Theresa thought something up quickly, but he interrupted her.
"I hear your enthusiasm all over." He told her equally sarcastic with a short chuckle.
Theresa told him honestly and shortly, "I don't like surprises."
"I do, especially when they're not for me." Theresa could feel her irritation grow, and her thoughts getting more and more impatient. They just wanted to see what was behind the mirror! She had to get him out of there, calm her curious thoughts. She was a Pandora, she would admit, and that mirror was her box to open.
"Good for you then," Theresa hid her cold tone very well, but she didn't hide the glare she had for him. "But, as you can see, monsieur," she walked toward him putting the bouquet of flowers on a nearby table, with the rose still in her hand tightly, before gently pushing him to the door, "I am tired and I am about to retire to bed." Lying to him is now such a breeze, she thought to herself, it was unbelievable that she had kept her tone so even.
"So if you may please leave me, it would be absolutely wonderful." She reached around him to open the door for him to leave, only to have him shut it.
"So soon? You only just got in and the night is still young, mademoiselle." Theresa scrunched her nose, now being closed to him she could smell a faint amount of whiskey in his breath. The night is still young and already you've been drinking, Henri, she mentally shook her head, disgusted for the moment. Though, she was disgusted, she smiled a fake smile to him.
"Yes, I am exhausted, Henri. It tends to happen at night, and for me it happens when it is young." She stated to him, opening the door again, this time he shut it when he invaded her room. "If I were you," she started, secretly locking the door on the inside. Over her she heard faint laughs leaving the building, the celebration for the successful performance must have been quick. "I would get myself to bed also, we have another performance tomorrow, remember?" She thanked the heavens that the soft click the lock made was unheard by him.
Before he could respond to that, she waved a small goodbye with her rose and closed the door loudly, without meaning to, locking the door even more by twisting the lock above it. She quickly placed the rose on a table to go to the mirror again. She examined, unsure of what else to do.
Theresa skimmed her hand on the gold frame of the mirror, tracing every inch of its decoration.
When she let her hand touch the border line that separated the frame and and the actual mirror, she searched for some kind of breeze that she could feel... maybe, there was a way to open it still. It took her a while to find it, but when she felt a sudden chill that went from her fingertips to her spine, she used her nails to help her as she pried it open. It was easier to move than she thought and before she knew it, she was faced with a dark passageway.
Theresa gulped and looked down at her costume as she let the breeze swallow her in slowly. She didn't realize she was moving until she heard something scampering about her feet and squealing. Theresa kept herself from yelping as she jumped back, hearing the distinct sounds of mice. The dark was straining her eyes, making her unable to see.
She looked behind her shoulder, she didn't go too far. Slowly and regretfully, she went back to her room to get a more suitable outfit to wear. Theresa took out her frock, unsure of what else and stepped out of her heels.
She went behind the dressing screen, carefully taking off her costume only to be left in her undergarments. She quickly covered herself with the old frock, she didn't know where she had gotten it, it was rather old, but it happened to fit her like a glove. Theresa stepped out from behind the screen and had put on her slippers. She looked to the opened mirror, it was rather dark in there.
She made her way to a candle, she didn't even think that the candle would guide her right along the path. "Better than nothing," she muttered under her breath.
Theresa made her way, but then she stopped a thrill of fear suddenly attacked her. She closed her eyes and told herself, "Now or never." And with that, Theresa made her way, taking a careful step after another, her candle being her only light.
Yup, just to be me, I did leave a small cliffhanger for you all ;). Hope you enjoyed the chapter! And I hope you have had a good Halloween as well! And to those who have also been in Hurricane Sandy, I hope you and your families are okay and safe. My prayers go out to you.
If you do like Harry Potter, I just posted a new Harry Potter story. Please check it out and let me know what you think! :) And also, if you haven't yet, like me on Facebook for sneak peeks, character bios, and story info. :)
See you next update!
Love,
Tiana xoxo
The prayer to her father translated!:
Thank you for blessing me tonight. I did it for you tonight in your honor, you and Mom. She should have been here, I wish you were there, you would have loved it. I felt like I belonged there, you were right, I have the gift of music, having been born of a singer and pianist... it must be true. I miss you, I feel like you died yesterday, and it was thirteen years ago on this day. Let your little angel continue to guide me, Father, to give me more and more gifts of music. Amen.