The Phantom's Shade

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the song The Phantom of the Opera. All rights go to Andrew Lloyd Webber.

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There she was, for what felt like hours on end. This was why no one enters Erik's house. He was persuasive, his voice pure. He was charming and mysterious, and yet underneath that simple domino mask was so much pain and suffering.

Celestine lifted her head from the folds of her arms, hearing music. But she could not see any instrument players. Then he came, dressed in a crisp black suit and full white mask instead of half. A red rose was pierced onto his lapel. His mouth was ajar and singing. Yes, he was singing his work for her, just as he promised.

Her eyes followed him down the stone steps, his magnificent voice ringing in her ears. His words were unintelligible, but it was still quite the spectacle. Then, Erik stopped abruptly, three feet from where Celestine sat. He looked at her, whispering in a singsong voice, "One final name, yes, one final name! I am the Angel of Music!"

Her tears were long gone now, but she stood, almost dreamily, and took his hand. Still humming underneath his breath, he took her small hand in the crook of his elbow and slowly led her back up the steps. Celestine found herself singing with him, even though she had never sang in her life. It was all part of Erik's spell.

In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice that calls to me, and speaks my name. And do I dream again, for now I find. The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind...

It was like a conversation, back and forth, back and forth.

Sing once again with me! Our strange duet. My powers over you, grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me, to glance behind. The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind...

She was suddenly swelling with vocal strength.

Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear...

Erik's voice surpassed hers.

It's me they hear.

Their voices, when together, were exquisite, yet touched with blue from the tapestries.

My/Your spirit and my/your voice in one combined. The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my/your mind.

Celestine gasped for breath, then continued.

He's there, the Phantom of the Opera. As she vocalized, his hand touched her face.

Sing, my Angel of Music! Sing, my Angel! Sing for me! Sing, my Angel! His voice was so full of raw power, it nearly seemed like he was yelling at the top of his lungs.

SING FOR ME!

Celestine's pitch rose to the highest note she could muster, then she fainted into his arms.

He caught her, immediately swooping her up bridal style, and carried his Angel to his room. Erik was still singing, although only one line, over and over.

The Phantom of the Opera is there....