I appreciate you still reading. Please let me know what you think
Chapter 20
I was not certain if it was the coffee, the substantial amount of sugar, or the prospect of a day spent outside of the cellar, but my nerves felt as though static coursed through my body.
Restlessness threatened to drive me mad as I checked my pocket watch every few minutes until an hour passed. With a little under four hours before I would join Madeline for a rooftop meal, I crossed the lake once more-this time with a spare towel and a few various tools, which I intended to leave on the other side for future expeditions.
Although I was fairly certain there was no treasure chest awaiting on the choppy, dark shores of the underground lake, my need for mental stimulation was insatiable.
Had I been born with a whole face instead of the visage of nightmares, I would have taken great pleasure in exploring the most mysterious corners of the world. Sometimes, while I helped the Gypsies as tent poles were driven into the earth and secured with iron nails the length of my arm, I allowed my mind to wander and thought of myself on a mighty quest in the great Pharaoh tombs of Egypt or ancient South American civilizations deep within the jungle.
In my daydreams, the tents were meant to shade the dig sites as I lead a team to unearth the tombs of forgotten royalty. Mundane tasks turned into adventure, and beneath the sweltering midday heat I passed the time in silence. Garouche was kinder on the days I proved useful, and I looked forward to new towns where I could stretch my arms and legs for a bit before returning to my usual place far from the others. I was aware that my actions benefited them more than it did me, but I didn't care.
As I patted myself dry and dressed on the opposite bank of the lake, I imagined myself in the unexplored depths of some abandoned underground city. Perhaps a sea serpent the length of a mighty ship lurked within the untold depths of water I had crossed. I glanced back at the ripples in the lake, and despite the most reasonable explanation being a fish skimming the surface, I entertained the more fantastical thought of the serpent guarding the underground passageway.
"Daae's treasure," I said under my breath. "Closer every day."
With the bag of tools slung over my shoulder, I made my way to the level beneath the stage, which I found empty as Madeline had said most of the theater inhabitants would be out at the festival for the day. I dropped the bag with a heavy, metallic thud onto a barrel and rummaged inside until I found a small piece of metal, which I fully intended to use for picking the lock on the heavily chained doors.
I rolled the tip of my tongue along my upper lip as I crouched down before the larger of the two doors and fumbled mindlessly with the lock. Despite all of the knots my uncle had tied, his skill in building a fire, catching fish, and a few sleight of hand tricks, he had not taught me how to pick a lock, which I very much regretted after several long moments of fruitless efforts. My back and neck ached from the angle, and once I dropped the piece of metal into the dirt frustration took over and I kicked the door.
This was much harder than I had recalled from escaping the cellar and the gypsy cage and-possessing little patience-I returned to the bag of tools and fetched the iron bolt cutters I had found in one of the many crates. I looked the lock over one more time and realized it was bigger than the one I had seen before. I wondered if someone was aware of trespassing or if someone else had left it unlocked at some point, thus leading to its replacement. Clearly by cutting the lock there would be no question someone had gotten into this part of the theater, but I did not care. I would cut it a thousand times if necessary.
The chains dropped like a snake made of iron falling from a tree and I dragged the links off to the side and left them neatly coiled. The lock itself I placed in my pack, deciding I could use it as practice once I returned home.
With everything packed away and left out of sight behind a barrel, I pulled open the double doors. Dust motes filled the fractured light streaming in from the top of the long ramp. There was a set of stone stairs to the left, which I took to the top and discovered a landing with a doorway marked To Stage and another set of double doors leading into the alley. I stood on the tips of my toes and peered out through the small, dirt-covered window just as a cart pulled by a chestnut mare passed with a boy who appeared younger than me holding the reins. Behind him on foot was an older man with a large belly chewing on the end of a cigar. He glanced at the doorway where I stood but continued on his way and I sighed in relief once he was several steps away.
I stood for much longer than necessary with the sun on my face as I stared into the alley and listened as another horse and cart approached, this time driven by a young man who looked slightly older than me. He sat hunched over, eyes squinting in the sun as the horses came to a stop almost at the doors where I stood.
"Wait for him to turn around and then I will open the doors for you," a man out of my line of sight shouted.
The boy offered a wave of his hand before he began picking his teeth. He had dirt caked to his knuckles and long hair partially hidden beneath a shapeless hat that was also covered in dirt. I stared at him as he practically shoved his filthy hand into the back of his throat and picked his back teeth.
Footsteps shuffled toward me, the double wooden doors rattling as the unseen man suddenly stood before me on the opposite side of the door. He glanced up at the window and I swore he looked at me, but his expression never changed. The doors rattled, a heavy latch turned, and in a panic I stepped back, lost my footing, and fell backwards onto the dirt flooring.
My heart stuttered as panic fully set in. The man turned to say something to the driver and somehow I managed to scurry to my feet. There I stood for a long moment as I stared at the door as it began to open, weighing my options. I realized I would not make it down the ramp and out of sight before the man opened the door.
There was not much of a choice, I told myself. I bolted toward the narrow hallway leading to the stage just as the alley doors parted and bright sunlight flooded the open space and ramp.
"What in the hell was that?" I heard the man say as I disappeared through the doorway and quietly closed it behind me. I crouched down, body pressed to the wall and hoped they could not tell which way I had gone. I had no idea how far it was to the stage and if any of the doors in that directions were unlocked.
"Ain't nothing," the younger one answered.
"Aye, it was. Look at how the dirt is flying up everywhere, Clement."
"Rats?" Clement commented, seemingly disinterested in the conversation. Now that I saw him walking into the building he looked much older than me, most likely in his twenties. He had tattoos on his forearms and an uneven gait as though one leg was slightly longer than the other.
"Too big to be a rat. Unless it's one of dem da size of a farm dog." The older man, a gentleman with hair slicked back and a shirt stained in the armpits and around his collar, waved his hand in front of his face and attempted to blow some of the dust out of the air.
"Guide Mael in, would you?" Clement asked.
The older man led the horse by the halter down the ramp at a painfully slow pace. Even the horse looked bored by the endeavor.
My eyes itched and the familiar tickle of a sneeze made me turn away briefly. The other side of the doorway was much darker than the space I had previously occupied, and when I turned away I felt dizzy from the contrast of bright light to endless darkness. I stood very still and attempted to harness my breath as I allowed my gritty eyes a moment to adjust.
The younger man chuckled to himself. "You know, if it ain't rats it must be the Opera Ghost."
My heart stuttered and I dreaded what would happen if Madeline caught wind of another story involving the notorious Opera Ghost. Considering how the morning had gone I had no desire to have her question me about the afternoon when we ate on the rooftop.
"I'd send the ghost right back to Senora di Carlo," the older man commented. "Poor woman. Praise God she wasn't killed when she fell. You know what they've been sayin' about her."
"That I do," Clement replied grimly. "But these things do happen."
"Far too often, it seems. This is what? Third time this month she has fallen?"
Their words garnered my full attention. I turned my head to the side and considered reaching for the door, but I feared too greatly being caught. Still, I wanted nothing more than eavesdrop on their conversation.
"Eh, don't go about spreadin' no rumors."
"I ain't, I ain't. Just askin'."
"Do you think she will still perform tonight?" Clement asked.
The man grunted. "If you still want to have a job you better pray she does. The managers have spent far too much on this performance. Look at what you were haulin' yesterday. 'Nough wine for the whole damned country. And today you have 'nough bales of hay and bags of grain to feed every horse in all of Europe. It's madness! We ain't got room for all of this."
"Eh, relax. It'll all be gone in a few hours. Ain't going to hurt nothin' if some of this sits out in the alley for a bit. No rain to damage anything. Worst that'll happen is a few meddlin' brats poke around to see if there is anything worth eatin'."
My eyes adjusted enough where I was able to see down the hallway. Hands extended, I felt my way along until I reached a set of three stairs that led to another door with a small window and realized I was behind the stage and near the chapel.
I looked back in the direction I had come and paused, unsure of whether I should attempt to make my way through the theater and back to the other side of the lake or wait a moment for the two men to leave. With the double doors still open and the men standing at the bottom of the ramp, I doubted I would be quick enough to race past them unseen. Despite the theater being empty, I lacked confidence in finding my way back through the winding halls and to the cellar entrance on the other side. If I managed to lock myself out of the building in a middle of a festival I would most assuredly be caught. I could not take my chances. The stakes were far too high and I feared being caught would result in me being jailed and executed for killing Garouche.
I dipped my fingers into my trouser pocket and realized I had left my watch on my dresser as to not risk ruining one of my most valuable possessions in the water. Silently I cursed myself for outright foolishness as now I had no idea how much time had passed. If I was more than few minutes late meeting Madeline, she would come down to the cellar to search for me. The moment she discovered the cellar empty I had no doubt she would panic and assume the worst.
Behind me I heard several thuds from the two men placing whatever was in the cart onto the floor. The first one nearly made me jump out of my skin, but as they settled into a steady rhythm, I dared to creep forward and see if I could gage how long unloading the supplies for the performance might take. Leaving the same way I entered made the most sense-as long as I was patient enough to wait it out.
To my surprise, the load was much smaller than I expected, and I stood silently out of the way and watched as they removed and stacked a total of six bales of hay and four bags of grain.
The older man knocked the last bale of hay against the barrel where I had hidden my tools and I cringed at the metallic sound of screwdrivers, wrenches, and a hammer clattering in the bag.
"What was that?" the younger one asked.
"Eh, rubbish all tossed everywhere," the man said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"No," Clement said. He raised his hand to silence the older man. "Listen."
I pressed myself to the wall and held my breath, afraid the younger man had somehow heard me breathing. Agonizing seconds passed before I heard a woman moaning somewhere in the distance followed by a man telling her to be quiet.
My eyes widened as I realized what Clement had heard. Suddenly I felt grateful for my patience as the sound of a couple in a tryst came from the hall to my back.
The man chuckled to himself. "That ain't a ghost."
Clement rolled his eyes. "Someone is making the most of an empty dressing room during the festival."
"Eh!" the older man yelled.
Startled by his raised voice, I took another step back and nearly tripped over my own feet.
"Knock it off, will ya?" Clement shouted.
The amorous noise stopped immediately and the two men laughed to themselves as the older man climbed back into the cart and Clement took his turn leading the horse up the ramp. They closed the doors behind them and moments later I heard the wheels of the cart rumble over the cobblestones.
Without wasting a single second of time, I grabbed my hidden pack and took off running toward the lake, not bothering to look over my shoulder until I reached the edge of the water.
I realized I had left the chain still neatly coiled on the ground but didn't bother returning to the scene of my rather lackluster crime. Once someone discovered the chain cut in half, I had no doubt it would be replaced. At least I had the sense to grab the lock in order to practice a more stealthy entry the next time around.
By the time I reached the other side of the lake it was five minutes until noon and I scrambled to lace my boots, button my shirt properly, and sprint up the five flights of stairs. My heart raced, my body slick with perspiration as I nearly ran straight into the door in my haste. Once I mopped sweat from my forehead and the back of my neck, I reached for my mask, which I had tucked into my back pocket, and adjusted it in the dark. I held up my lantern and checked the time, seeing that I was five minutes later than expected.
Thankfully Madeline arrived fifteen minutes later than me and by that time my heart had stopped racing and I finally caught my breath.
"I apologize for making you wait. I was caught up on the other side of the theater," she said.
My expression immediately sobered and I stammered to find words. My first thought was the couple the two men had disturbed in the middle of their romantic rendezvous. Being that I thought of Madeline as a mother and a sister, I felt heat rise along the back of my neck and settle into my cheeks and immediately discarded the notion of the woman being my closest friend. Despite that she was several years older than me and perfectly capable of having a suitor, I did not want to think of her as being with any man. Ever.
"C-caught up?" I awkwardly responded.
"Delayed. Nothing, really."
"Oh." I stared at my shoes, finding it impossible to meet her eye.
"You are very flushed," she commented. "Is something wrong?"
"I ran up the stairs," I lied, forcing myself to meet her eye. I suppose it wasn't really a lie as I had ran the entire way fearing I was late, but my cheeks flushed for an entirely different reason, one which I did not want to explain.
However, when I looked at Madeline again, she looked entirely innocent without a hair out of place and her dress perfectly pressed, for which I was grateful. Far too many times I had stumbled upon a young man with her hair mussed and dress wrinkled after a stolen moment with one of Garouche's sons. Every time a woman sneaked out of a tent or tiptoed out of the woods they looked terribly suspicious. Madeline, however, looked more concerned about me than for herself.
"Well, I have no intention of running up the stairs. This is a day for being lazy. Are you ready?" she asked with an easy smile.
I took a deceptively heavy basket from her grasp and nodded. I took a quick step in front of her and held open the door leading to the rooftop. "Ready."