Chapter Four

His mask! It was all these mad women spoke of! A frivolous little thing that had nothing to do with their employment. If he were to hire a maid, it would be someone who didn't believe in disfigured ghosts or maniacal tricksters under the guise of a homeowner. After the first dozen or so applicants had been rejected, each subsequent one flowed in to see if the rumors of his visage were true.

Honestly, he did get rather carried away delivering to them exactly what they were searching for, even going as far as to give them a fright by jumping out of the walls when they least expected it. It was amusing to see the color drain from their faces when they realized he was indeed cursed with a death's head. Others, he would simply set something aflame near them and bask in their frenzied shrieks as they tried to beat it out.

Erik swallowed a snicker as the second woman's interview was concluding, impatient to sprint through the walls and terrorize them. As the raven haired woman rose from her seat, so did he, eyeing Antoinette through the mirror as she followed the woman to the door. Any second…

Just as he was about to glance away from the mirror and make a mad dash downstairs, Antoinette faced him and gestured with a single finger held up. Gods, there was another one? There were only supposed to be two! His promise had been fulfilled and he deserved to get his bottle of absinthe back. But if he argued, would she pour it down the drain as she did last time?

No, he could tolerate one more interview, then she would be forced to hold up her end of the bargain. With a groan, Erik collapsed back into the armchair, closing his eyes and rubbing his exposed temple. Would it hurt if he left? It wasn't as if Antoinette would even notice if he wasn't there as no one could see him through the mirror. He could sit in his study and inconspicuously work on some designs while awaiting her arrival so he could reject all three interviewees.

Before he could act on temptation, the door creaked open and there was nearly silent shuffling alongside Antoinette's deafening footfalls. Erik didn't dare open his eyes; he didn't need to see her, not when she would be like all the rest–vile and conceited.

"Do you have a resume, my dear?" Antoinette asked for the third time that hour.

It was silent for nearly five whole seconds before he heard the sweetest sound to ever bless his ears. The voice of an angel fallen from Heaven, if there was such a place.

"I did not bring one, Madame," the angel whispered timidly.

Erik immediately opened his eyes, straightening himself at the sight of the goddess that occupied the armchair. She was unlike anything he had ever seen, far exceeding Aphrodite in every right. He very much wished he could run his skeletal fingers through her thick auburn curls, trail them along her cheekbones and jaw, her full lips…to kiss her in the throes of passion and claim her body and soul…

"Christ," he breathed, unable to help himself.

"No matter," Antoinette said, flipping through the small book atop the desk. "What is your surname?"

"Daae. Christine Daae," she said more confidently this time.

Christine. A perfect name for a perfect woman.

"Daae," Antoinette echoed, scribbling in the book. "Are you familiar at all with keeping a house?"

Christine's cheeks flushed and she bit her lip, causing Erik's heart to thump faster. Why did she have to tempt him when he was stuck behind a damned mirror?

"Yes, I have kept several houses," she answered, her voice uncertain.

Antoinette's brow arched and she sighed, saying, "Miss Daae, you do not need to lie to me. If you do not have the experience, that is perfectly fine as we will train you regardless. Now, I want complete honestly from here on out."

"I–I apologize, I promise, no more lies," Christine said with a lighthearted smile.

Antoinette returned the gesture kindly and continued, "Since we have that settled, let's move on to the next question. What made you seek out the position here?"

"A manager at the Opera Populaire was kind enough to inform me of it after he was unable to provide employment," she explained, shifting in her chair while glancing at the mirror only briefly.

It was then that Erik realized he was pressed flush against the glass, entranced by her. He quickly stepped back in case a stroke of bad luck decided to fall upon him. He couldn't have the glass shattering. Just the thought of her seeing him made his stomach twist; what would she think of his mask? Did she even know of his mask? Usually it was a topic of conversation within seconds with the other women. Maybe Christine was different…

"What employment were you seeking there?"

"I was hoping to join the choir but he wouldn't allow me to audition," Christine said solemnly, twisting her hands atop her skirts. "I left the Roma to join the opera, but I shouldn't have been so foolish."

Antoinette shook her head. "No, my dear. You were not foolish. The opera hardly ever holds auditions these days," she said. "You said you left the Roma, may I ask what you did with them?"

"Yes, I sang mostly," Christine said. "When my father passed, I inherited his caravan and started my own show. The other girls taught me how to dance as well, but I'm not very good at it."

With that, she giggled and Erik gasped, praying to whatever entity was above to make her do it again. It was unworldly, enticing and he needed more. He could only envision what her voice sounded like when singing. Perhaps he would be privy to it while she cleaned the house.

"Meg isn't much of a dancer either," Antoinette chuckled. "I am assuming that since you have been around music quite a bit, you wouldn't mind hearing it daily. The owner enjoys music and his instrument of choice is, unfortunately, the loudest one of all."

"Which one is that?"

"A pipe organ," Antoinette said simply. "He mostly plays in the evenings and late into the night. Will that be a problem for you?"

Christine quickly shook her head, saying, "Not at all. It would be rather dull to live in a house that is completely silent."

Antoinette grinned and continued, "Lastly, the owner is a very reclusive man. If he decides to offer you employment, you must respect his privacy and leave him be. Do not disturb him unless there is an emergent matter."

"Of course," the girl whispered, frowning. "Loneliness is not far and few between for me, so I will manage."

"Well, it seems we have covered everything. You may return to the parlor and I will be down shortly with a decision," Antoinette said, closing the book and setting down her pen.

Christine rose from her seat, smoothing down her skirts and said, "Thank you for your time, Madame."

Erik's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as he watched her turn from him and head to the door. As she grasped the knob, she glanced over her shoulder and stared directly at the mirror, at him. Could she see through the glass? Surely not! But why did it feel like she could?

Much to Erik's dismay, Christine shook her head lightly and exited the room, her soft footsteps the only indication that she even existed. As soon as he was sure she wouldn't hear, he rushed to the opening in the wall and pushed it open, startling Antoinette who was rubbing her temples.

"Her!" was all Erik could manage through his panting breaths.

"You frightened me!" Antoinette cried, standing abruptly and clutching her chest. "Announce yourself next time."

With an exasperated sigh, he repeated himself, "Her."

"Thank Heavens," she said with relief. "I will inform her immediately. Do behave yourself in the meantime. If I hear one shriek, I will not be returning your liquor."

The absinthe! Erik had forgotten about it completely, having been enchanted by Christine. It didn't matter to him anymore, at least for the time being. He wanted to be somewhat sober to observe her so he wouldn't scare her by stumbling through the walls.

"Forget the bottle, I have work to do," he lied, knowing he was going to do little else than traverse the walls for the remainder of the evening.

Before she could answer, Erik swept back behind the bookshelf, intent on making it to the parlor before Antoinette. The only thing occupying his thoughts was Christine, her face, her voice, her hands…he could only pray that his dreams would be filled with her as well.