| The Wedding Thief ~ Chapter 3 |
| Raoul de Chagny led his wedding party first to the gendarmes and then to the Opera House itself. By the time he reached the Palais Garnier, he had amassed a small army. This time, he thought, there would be no escape for the Phantom of the Opera. He pushed his way through the main doors, and was momentarily disoriented by the sound of music. The Opera was showing the perennial old favorite, “Hannibal,” and the sound of La Carlotta’s voice echoed throughout the place. It was almost as if he had stepped back in time, Raoul thought vaguely, but he would not be deterred by the temptation of sweet memories. The anger and outrage of Christine’s kidnapping washed over him again, and he drove the crowd up the Grand Escalier towards the manager’s office. Madame Giry rushed to the front of the group, trying in vain to speak with the Vicomte, but Raoul would hear nothing of her pleas of caution. He banged on the office door and bellowed loudly to be admitted. Monsieurs Firmin and Andre had both heard the raucous crowd’s approach, and they were fearful to open their office door. But once they recognized the Vicomte's voice, they allowed the young man access to their chambers. “Monsieur le Vicomte,” Andre stammered. “To what do we owe this honor?” “There is no honor here, that is plain to see!” Raoul thundered. “What do you mean?” Firmin asked indignantly, stepping forward to survey the crowd with a stony glare. “I practically led you to the beast’s lair,” the Vicomte choked. “And you allowed him to slip through your fingers!” “I’m not sure we follow you,” Andre replied, peering over Firmin’s shoulder. “The Phantom has kidnapped my bride!” Raoul cried. “Ah!” Firmin threw up his hands. “And this is our fault, I suppose?” “YES!” the Vicomte raged. “You have known that he was down there…” “And if you recall we did try to help you catch him,” Firmin countered. “It was your suggestion that we host his ridiculous opera, ‘Don Juan Triumphant,’ in the first place. And that nearly led to our ruin!” “But you let him escape!” Raoul said indignantly. “We let him escape???” Firmin shrieked. “As I recall, Monsieur, it was you who abandoned us to our fate with the Opera Ghost. You used this theatre as your playground, then left us quite alone once you had claimed your prize!” “How dare you?” Raoul seethed. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have a theatre to run!” “Now, gentlemen,” Andre stepped between them and cast a nervous look at the crowd behind the Vicomte. “We all have a vested interest in trying to find this Phantom….” “He should be in chains and in jail!” Raoul cried. “You are quite right,” Andre conceded. “And we have been trying to catch him ourselves…” “I can see how well you've succeeded!” Raoul mocked. “But now that you are here, Monsieur le Victome, and with such strong support, we cannot fail in our quest to catch the Opera Ghost!” Andre offered with a hopeful smile. “Let us go to the cellars!” bellowed one of the gendarmes, who had heard tale of the Phantom and his hiding place below the Opera. “Very well,” Firmin said with a sneer. “Feel free to investigate to your hearts’ content. But please be mindful that a production is going on at this time. I don’t want any of our paying customers to be distressed.” * After several hours of brandy and chess, Erik finally left Nadir to return to the Opera House. He felt better than he had in days, and he sang softly to himself as he strolled down the dark Paris streets. The moment he approached the Opera, however, he immediately sensed that something was amiss. The place was too well lit for so late in the evening, and there seemed to be far too many police about. The Phantom slipped into the safety of the shadows and wove through the darkness with practiced ease. If only he had been a normal man, he could have simply approached the gendarmes and inquired about the mysterious activity, but yet again, Erik was reminded of his abnormality. He muttered a curse and comforted himself with the fact that he had other talents to help him learn the truth of the matter. He slid close to a pair of officers – so close that he could have easily slipped his Punjab Lasso around both of their necks – and listened to their idle chatter. “Do you think they’ll find him?” one fellow was saying. “I don’t know,” his mustached companion replied. “I heard that a troupe of officers went on a search for him a few weeks ago, but they found nothing.” “Perhaps he really is a ghost,” the younger man said nervously. Erik couldn’t help but sneer beneath his mask. So they had come to hunt for him, had they? He reached into his pocket to grasp the Punjab Lasso. “Bah!” the mustached fellow scoffed. “How could a ghost appear at a wedding and steal away the bride?” Erik’s eyes widened in surprise, and he let the lasso stay in his pocket. He crept closer to the men to learn more. “I had heard,” the young officer whispered conspiratorially, “that Mlle. Daae was being courted by another gentleman besides the Vicomte. Perhaps he is our mysterious Phantom, and they have merely eloped!” Erik’s heart leapt at the mention of Christine’s name. Had she possibly left the Vicomte to return to him? “Are you daft?” the mustached officer replied. “The girl was carried off at her own wedding no less! Do you think she could have staged such an event?” “I don’t know,” the younger man sighed. “You know how dramatic those artistes are…” Erik turned away from the pair and sped through the shadows towards the Rue Scribe. As he disappeared through his secret entrance into the Opera House, his heart and mind were racing with concern for Christine’s safety. Who would steal her away and why? * The next morning, the Opera was abuzz with gossip about Christine’s abduction. Meg Giry reveled in telling the story over and over to her fellow dancers, and she even reenacted the scene for the frightened ballerinas. “Then he swooped down like a demon from hell, and swept Christine up into his arms!” The girls squealed and Meg danced over to one ballerina, taking hold of her as she imagined the Phantom would. “But he wore a black mask?” the damsel asked timidly. “Indeed!” Meg cried dramatically. “Perhaps to mirror his black mood!” “I’ve never seen him wear a black mask before,” the girl remarked. “Are you on such good terms with the Phantom?” Meg chided. “Perhaps you’d best take care, or he might steal you away like Christine Daae!” Meg tried to lift her friend but they both fell to the floor in a fit of giggles. “Meg!” Madame Giry thundered, stepping from the shadows and advancing dangerously towards the group. “I have told you, we are not to speak of this!” “But Mama…” Meg protested. “No!” Madame Giry scowled at her daughter. “This is serious business! A young woman’s life could be in danger!” “I’m sorry, Mama,” Meg said. “I’m worried about Christine too.” The elder Giry sighed and gave her daughter a reassuring look. Then she turned to address the rest of her dancers. “We must keep our wits about us,” she warned. “That means look out for each other and be cautious. Do not travel anywhere alone. Understood? Now, the best thing we can do is to maintain our schedule. Take a quick moment to refresh yourselves, and then return to this stage in ten minutes time. We have much to rehearse!” The ballerinas nodded emphatically and skittered back to their dressing rooms. Madame Giry watched them go, and turned to make her own way backstage. “That was very commanding,” a silky voice called to her from the shadows. The ballet mistress froze in her tracks and instinctively reached for her throat, as if to ward of the fabled Punjab Lasso. Though she did not feel the Phantom’s noose about her neck, she did not relinquish her guard. “I mean you no harm, Adele Giry,” the Phantom sighed and his beautiful voice seemed to play all about her. “I merely want to ask you some questions.” Madame Giry looked about, searching in vain for a glimpse of the Phantom, but she could not seem to guess his whereabouts. “I do not know what information I could possibly give you,” she answered quietly. “You were at the wedding, were you not?” the melodious voice prompted her. “Tell me what you saw.” Quite perplexed, Madame Giry related the tale of Christine’s abduction. “But I don’t know why you would need me to tell you all this,” she said. As if by magic, the lights flickered out onstage and darkness descended upon the ballet mistress. She was quite terrified, but she fought the urge to scream. She would not show her weakness or fear to the Phantom. Suddenly, something soft brushed the back of her hand, and she instinctively drew back. She felt as if she were being enveloped in velvet, and the sensation both terrified and thrilled her all at once. After a dizzying moment in which she almost forgot where she was, Adele Giry suddenly found herself standing face to face with the Phantom of the Opera. His white mask was luminous in the dark shadows and his black cloak parted to reveal the crisp pleats of his white tuxedo shirt. He was standing so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his breath upon her cheek, and she was momentarily dazzled. The Phantom leaned towards her conspiratorially, and the ballet mistress caught her breath, trying vainly to maintain her composure. “I need you,” he whispered, “to pay heed to all that goes on here, and to tell me what you learn.” Madame Giry bowed her assent and then raised her eyes to meet his. She was tempted to chastise him for the theft of Christine, but she was surprised to note the look of sadness that accompanied his gaze. A sense of loss and despair seemed to permeate his façade. “You didn’t take her,” she breathed softly, as the light of understanding dawned within her. The Phantom shook his head with a resigned sigh, and Madame Giry understood then that he was just as confounded as they all were with Christine’s disappearance. “But if you didn’t do it, who did?” she wondered aloud. The Phantom spread his hands in a helpless gesture, and gathered his cloak about him. Madame Giry wanted to question him further, but they were interrupted by a voice from the other side of the stage. “Mama?” Meg called out. The elder Giry cast a hasty glance in Meg's direction before turning back to her dark consort. “I must go.” “Do not betray me, Madame,” the Phantom said quickly, holding her hostage with his eyes. The ballet mistress retreated from him with a sad shake of her head. “When have I ever given you cause to doubt me?” she asked. ~ Chapter 4 ~ |