Chapter 7: The Secrets of the Night

After the prolonged intermission, the performance had been resumed and finished without further interruptions, yet a few hours after its end Meg still couldn't suppress the anxiety that had settled in her stomach. The whole opera seemed to be peacefully plunged in sleep, but all she could do was toss and turn on her bedding.

Sighing, the ballerina rolled over to her other side and fixed her sight on the dark figure lying on the neighbouring bed.

"Christine, are you awake?" Her whisper drifted into the darkness, but only silence answered her.

Meg let out another sigh. Well, at least one of them had finally managed to fall asleep. As for her, it seemed that she wouldn't sleep a wink. Every time she closed her eyes, the same picture appeared inside her eyelids: the tall masked man with a cold steel gaze that sent shivers down her spine.

Back then, at the platform above the stage, he had acted as if he had wanted to threaten her, but despite that, he had helped when she had lost her balance. And she could have sworn that, for that short moment, he looked almost… concerned? Did it make any sense? The more she thought about it, the more confused she was.

Who was the Opera Ghost really, and what was his goal? What did he want from Christine? And how was her mother involved in all of this?

Meg groaned quietly and sat up in bed, massaging her temples with the tips of her fingers. She should finally stop pondering those questions over and over. After all, it was not like it could bring her any answers. The only thing she could obtain from it was an even bigger headache…

Exhaling, she slid her bare feet to the floor and went up to the window, slipping behind the thick curtain to glance outside.

The snow that had started falling that evening hadn't stopped, and now everything was covered with a thick white blanket. Gas lamps lit the empty streets, creating warm, almost magical-looking aureate circles on the ground. And above it all, the moon bashfully peeked out from behind puffy clouds, illuminating their edges with silver light.

Using her mother's old advice, Meg took a few deep breaths and felt some of the tension slowly start to leave her. She loved Paris by day – vibrant with life, full of colours, sounds and scents, but she had to admit it was night that had some hidden ethereal enchantment in itself…

The dancer let herself enjoy the winter landscape a few more minutes, and then disentangled herself from the curtain. If she wanted to be of any use tomorrow, she should at least try to sleep. Turning around, she directed her steps back to her bed.

And that was when she saw it.

A pale patch of light seeping through the narrow slit under the door…

Her stomach knotted, but the next second Meg reprimanded herself inwardly for such a reaction. Save for storage purposes, the whole corridor was allocated for part of the few living quarters given to the opera employees and, though unusual, it wasn't unlikely for someone to go fetch something from the kitchen in the middle of the night.

The floor outside creaked, and then quiet, almost inaudible footsteps resounded in the hallway. A moment later, they reached the space outside the room and Meg held her breath, watching the lit area of the floor gradually get brighter and bigger. Yet, whoever that mysterious person was, he or she did not stop there, and soon both the sound of the shoes and the flame of the kerosene lamp slowly began to fade in the distance.

Shaking off her daze, Meg waited a moment, and then slowly approached the door, carefully turning the key so as not to make any noise. Swallowing nervously, she gently pushed the handle and peeked outside.

The opera was plunged in an almost complete gloom, but with one small exception – the staircase at the end of the corridor. On the wall next to it wavered a humanoid shadow, slowly moving down along with the dim gleam of the lantern. It was hard to see any details, but she could have sworn that she recognised a familiar shape of a straightened silhouette and a tightly bound crown braid. Only, what would her mother do out of her room at this hour?

A strange idea came to her mind, and Meg quickly retreated back to her room, snatching her dark blue cape from a hanger and throwing it over her shoulders. Making sure that her fair hair and her white nightgown and night-jacket were carefully covered, she quietly slipped outside and hurriedly headed towards the staircase, inwardly thankful for all those years spent in the opera since its opening which had taught her how to evade all the creaky floorboards, even in semi-darkness. If she was right, it could be her chance to finally find out the truth.

Having reached the stairs, she bent in half so that the balustrade partially obscured her and started descending, every now and then glancing through the wrought metal bars.

Now that she had a better view, she could clearly see that the person she was following was indeed Madame Giry. What was more, she was still wearing her daily black dress, covered slightly by a long cape she had thrown over herself. The ballet mistress seemed to be heading towards the female changing rooms, but instead of walking into the one given to Christine, as Meg had half expected, she turned to the corridor behind the Foyer de la Danse.

Furrowing her forehead, the ballerina followed right after. Having approached the fork, she hesitantly poked her head around the corner. Her breath hitched in her throat.

In the middle of the corridor, her mother was just rising from her knees, sliding a loosened wooden floorboard back in its place while the wall in front of her silently moved aside. A few seconds later she vanished inside, and the wall once again formed a smooth, uniform surface, not betraying in any way that something was hidden behind it.

Recovering from her astonishment, Meg counted to sixty and then followed in Madame Giry's footsteps. Kneeling down, she surveyed the surroundings and started struggling with the floorboard. It took a while, but finally she managed to find the right angle to press it and force it to move. If she hadn't known where to look, she would have never guessed that something was beneath it.

Having slipped her hand into the hole, she felt around the small space until her fingers came across a small lever. With a hammering heart, she pulled it, and at the next moment the narrow, dark and cobwebbed corridor was once again revealed to her eyes.

Now or never.

Gathering her strength, the dancer inhaled the slightly stale air into her lungs and took a step forwards, flinching when her feet touched cool stone flooring. A second later, the passage shut behind her soundlessly, leaving her in almost complete darkness.

Now, there was no longer any turning back.

Trying to summon the courage, Meg clasped the pendant she had received as a gift from her parents years ago. Swallowing hard and saying a silent prayer, she slowly started down the sloping path, following the dim light of the lantern that was disappearing in the distance.

Author's notes:

1) Foyer de la Danse is a real part of the Opera Garnier. It's a richly ornamented hall situated behind the stage, serving as a workspace for the artists of the corps de ballet where they can prepare for the performances. From the 19th century up to 1930 it was also a place where rich subscribers could meet and talk with the dancers (according to information on website). However, I'm afraid that unfortunately there isn't any secret passage hidden behind it. :)

2) If anyone finds it interesting, here are the links to the floor plan of the Opera Garnier that I used as a reference in my story – you just have type it in your Internet browser:

– Wikimedia Commons – File:Palais_Garnier_plan_d_-_Nuitter_1875_p196_-_Google_Books

– pinimg – f014fc6ac601866a16864c9ee7a4adfb