| The Wedding Thief ~ Chapter 6 |
| Erik paced Nadir’s flat like a caged animal, his eyes fixed on the small window. “You are going to wear a hole in my carpet,” Nadir chided gently, looking up from the evening paper. “Please sit down and put your mind to rest.” “How can I, Nadir?” Erik cried in horror. “Christine is in danger!” “But the police are on the case,” the Daroga remarked, gesturing to the article in L’Epoque. “You know how inept they are!” the Phantom scowled, his brilliant eyes mirrored by the firelight. “With the Vicomte urging them on, they’ll all likely drown in the sewers! Oh, how can they be wasting their time looking for me, when they should be looking for Christine?” Nadir sighed heavily and folded up the newspaper. He was tempted to remind Erik that the gendarmes were looking for Christine in the Opera House because they thought that the Phantom had taken her, but he prudently decided to hold his tongue. “Where can the villain be?” Erik growled, looking out the window once again. “More importantly, why is he masquerading as you?” Nadir asked aloud. “I don’t know,” Erik sighed in frustration. Nadir studied his friend and tried to piece together the strange events that had come to pass. “Perhaps I should go to the Opera to investigate,” he offered. “The gendarmes may have found some sort of clue…” Erik whirled about, ready to dismiss Nadir’s plan, when he suddenly changed his mind and began to nod in agreement. “Of course! The Spaniard might be there tonight!” “That’s not what I meant!” Nadir sputtered. “And why shouldn’t he be?” Erik continued, paying no heed to the Persian. “He was already at the Opera this morning, parading about like a peacock. If he is as vain as he appears to be, then he will certainly go to the Opera tonight.” “I hope you’re not thinking of going as well,” Nadir cautioned. “The place will be heavily guarded!” The Phantom made an impatient sound and waved away Nadir’s worry. He was already moving towards the coat rack to retrieve his cloak and hat. “Erik, you must take care!” The Daroga implored. “This fellow has already proven to be a difficult adversary. If he is at the Opera tonight, he will be surrounded by all sorts of people, the gendarmes included! He will basically be untouchable! “Ah, but Nadir, you forget who I am” the Phantom said with a smile. “The Opera is my domain! No one can escape my notice while I haunt the place.” “But that’s just it!” the Persian persisted. “I don’t want you to become a real ghost, Erik, and this man could be dangerous!” “Daroga,” Erik sighed. “I am not without my tricks. I will not allow this rascal to get the better of me.” The Phantom swirled his black cloak about his shoulders, and moved towards the door like an immense shadow taking flight. Nadir reached out to take hold of him, but could not catch the elusive Opera Ghost. As the door quickly opened and closed, Nadir grabbed for his coat and dashed out into the street to follow his friend. But the Phantom had already disappeared into the night. * When Erik arrived at the Opera, he could see a few guards patrolling the streets, but they were nowhere near the grand army that Nadir had imagined might be waiting for him. There were two troublesome guards in particular who had been posted in front of his secret entrance on the Rue Scribe, but Erik used his ventriloquism to divert their attentions elsewhere. As they went off to investigate a suspicious noise coming from another alleyway, the Phantom slipped through the secret door and entered his dark domain. He noted that a few lanterns had been set up to aid the gendarmes who stumbled blindly throughout his realm. A part of him would have loved to play some tricks on the men, but he did not want to press his luck nor waste his time. He rushed through the cellars, climbing steadily higher towards the stage until at last he came upon the secret stairway to Box Five. As he bounded up the steps, he caught sight of Madame Giry, ushering her young dancers onto the stage. He could see her glance uneasily up at Box Five, and while he knew she could not see him, he felt a strange sense of comfort, as if he had regained his only ally at the Opera. The orchestra began to cue up, and the Phantom slid through his secret door into the velvety comfort of Box Five. The music swelled from the orchestra pit, tempting him to go further into the box, but Erik held back. He clung to the deep shadows, and carefully stole a glance at the audience. He was hoping to catch sight of the young Spaniard when his eyes fell upon something much nearer. A crisp white letter had been placed on the Phantom’s chair, and it was clearly addressed to the Opera Ghost. Erik edged forward and skillfully drew the missive into the darkness with him. His keen eyes drank in the handsome script on the note. “To O.G. ~ The diva still sings, but can you hear her? If you would seek her out, come to Apollo’s Lyre during Intermission, and I shall tell you all I know. A Friend.” Erik’s hands trembled as he clutched at the letter. A thousand emotions raced through him, but he struggled to maintain his composure. He instinctively knew that he might be walking into a trap, but he had to take the risk to find the answers he sought. When the curtains were finally drawn for intermission, Erik had long departed his box. He made his way to Apollo’s Lyre, a sense of dread accompanying his every step. He could not help but think of his last trek to the rooftop, when he had followed Christine and overheard her betrayal of him to Raoul. It surprised him to find that her deception still hurt a bit, and he wondered if that wound would ever heal. When he reached the lavish roof of the Palais Garnier, he positioned himself in Apollo’s comforting arms. He pulled his cloak about him to ward off the chill, and blended in perfectly with the shadows. As he did so, he heard the door to the roof open up once again. A fair-haired young gentleman stood in the doorway, looking out onto the rooftop with trepidation. Erik caught his breath, hardly daring to believe that the man who had come to meet him was none other than his rival, the Vicomte de Chagny. The Phantom watched the boy tentatively step out onto the roof and offer a meager greeting to whoever might be waiting for him. “Hello!” Raoul called out, trying to mask his fear. “Is anyone there?” Erik waited, not knowing if he should take the bait and talk to the Vicomte or not. “Please!” Raoul said a little more loudly. “I know someone’s here. I saw you running up the stairs ahead of me.” Erik silently cursed his luck and began to slide down from his perch. The Vicomte was oblivious to the Phantom’s hiding place, and continued to address his unseen friend. “I have come as you bade me,” Raoul said, removing a note from his pocket. Erik gasped in surprise when he caught sight of the letter. The handwriting on the Vicomte’s note was the selfsame script that had been on the missive addressed to Erik. “Who’s there?” Raoul asked shakily. Erik sighed, and the sound carried eerily on the wind. “C’est moi,” he said at last. Raoul looked about wildly as he recognized the Phantom’s voice. “What are you doing here? Where is Christine?” “I don’t know,” Erik replied, moving carefully from shadow to shadow. He let his voice fall around the Vicomte to keep the boy from guessing his exact location. “I assure you, I am just as surprised to find you here.” “Don’t toy with me, Phantom!” the Vicomte sneered, reaching into his pocket to pull out a dueling pistol. “Have you come to demand a ransom?” “No!” Erik cried indignantly. “I am looking for Christine, just as you are.” “What?” Raoul hissed. “I saw you carry her away from our wedding!” “It wasn’t me,” Erik insisted, quickly losing his patience. “Oh really?” the Vicomte scoffed. “How many masked men are running about Paris these days? You just couldn’t take it that she had chosen me over you! You disgusting monster! What have you done with her?” “I don't know where she is,” the Phantom persisted. “I am just as frantic to find her as you are!” “Are you trying to drive me mad?” Raoul cried and he nearly tore at his hair in frustration. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” Erik shook his head in disbelief. “I promise you, it is my utmost wish to see Christine safe and free to make her own decisions….” “Are you implying that she left with you of her own free will?” the Vicomte replied angrily. “You misunderstand me,” Erik began, but the Vicomte had begun to point his pistol in the Phantom’s direction, so Erik fell silent. He moved through the shadows quietly, edging his way towards the door. “You bastard!” Raoul sobbed and he fired his weapon. The bullet narrowly missed the Phantom, as Erik pressed back against the wall. He could already hear many footsteps running up the stairs, and he feared that he would be caught. He gingerly reached into his jacket to grasp the Punjab Lasso. At that moment, the gendarmes burst upon the scene, running towards the Vicomte with concern. “Is he here?” they asked frantically. “Hush!” Raoul ordered, peering into the shadows. “I believe he’s still about. Take care and search the place!” The gendarmes began to spread out, leaving one poor guard to stand by the door. Erik was thinking of how he could slip past the boy unnoticed when he heard another set of footsteps echoing in the stairwell. The Phantom pulled back and watched in horror as the managers, followed by Carlos del Travieso, barreled through the door. “We heard a gunshot!” Andre gasped breathlessly. They moved cautiously towards the Vicomte, who looked ill at Spaniard’s appearance. “What is he doing here?” Raoul asked coolly. “Señores Andre and Firmin were good enough to give me a tour during intermission,” Carlos explained. “I had remarked that I would like to see the roof, and we were on our way up when we heard a gunshot.” “Well, this is no place for you!” Raoul glowered. “The managers may have neglected to tell you this, but there is a villain on the loose!” “Indeed,” Carlos said. He pulled apart his walking stick to reveal a long dagger hidden within. “How may I be of service to you?” Raoul looked taken aback, but he gestured impatiently towards the shadows. “He is hiding somewhere….” Suddenly, the door slammed shut, and everyone turned about in panic. Several men ran to the door and tried to pry it open, but it had been bolted from the inside. “The Phantom of the Opera has struck again,” Raoul said miserably. * Christine could hear the Spaniard laughing when he returned later that evening. He sounded quite drunk, as he crooned some Spanish tune that she was unfamiliar with. She prayed that in his stupor he would forget about her, but her prayers were for naught as she heard him lean heavily against the bedroom door. “Yo recuerdo aquel dia que yo te encuentro,” he warbled drunkenly. Carlos fumbled with the keys until at last he was able to gain entrance to the bedroom. A single candle lit his way and flickered enticingly across the captive Christine. She seemed to be asleep, but that did not stop Carlos from regaling her with his song. “Amor, amor, amor,” he crooned. He lurched through the doorway and stumbled into the room. Christine opened her eyes and glared at him, but Carlos merely smiled at her. “You should have seen me tonight,” he slurred cheerfully, placing the candle on the bed-stand. “I almost had him cornered…” He whipped off his cloak and waved it about like a bullfighter. “En garde, Monsieur le Phantom!” He gave a difficult twirl and lost his footing, collapsing to the floor in a heap. Christine could hear him laughing as he crawled towards the bed. “Over twenty policemen and one stupid Victome, and they still could not catch him!” he chuckled. “But I will trap him! I hold the key to his capture!” He pulled himself onto the bed and eyed her wickedly. “Now what shall I do with you?” he asked, leering at Christine with undisguised lust. “Shall I use you as bait or keep you to myself?” Christine shrank back as far as she could, but the ropes impeded her movement. She shook her head, hoping to make her resistance known, but Carlos paid her no heed. He struggled to his feet and attempted to disrobe, but the liquor had done its work. His eyes glazed over and he swayed dangerously to and fro. Muttering a disgusting belch, he fell onto the bed fully clothed, and was soon snoring away. Christine strained against her bonds but could not seem to find her freedom. As the night wore on, her mind turned over a thousand possibilities of what she could do to escape. She had become quite desperate and feared that no one would be able to find her or come to her rescue. In the end, she decided, it would be up to her to save herself. ~ Chapter 7 ~ |