Hopeful Soul: A Phantom Story

Chapter Five.

MADAME GIRY:

Saturdays were peaceful for most people my age, but I had to deal with the 'opera ghost'. Fifteen notes were stacked on my desk, all written in red ink and sealed with a red skull. This meant bad things, especially with this many notes.

I spent almost two hours sorting through the bulk of notes. Two addressed to each manager, one to La Carlotta, another to her fiancé Piangi, one to the orchestra conducter, and one to the trumpet, flute and violin sections. I set down the orchestra notes in one pile, the mangers in another and put Carlotta's with Piangi's. I was happy to know that five of the notes were actually protective paper, but then two more notes appeared that stuck out to me. One addressed to me and another to, what I couldn't believe I was seeing... Christine.

I couldn't subject her to this. Who knows what could be written in this letter? I turned it over and almost immediately, as if he was watching, the door locked shut and my lamps went out, "Don't even think about it, Giry. You must deliver the letter to her. It is your job."

I sighed and stood from my desk chair. His yellow eyes pierced through the darkness of the room and just below him a pair of green eyes flashed, "What are you sending her, Erik?"

"It is nothing but an innocent note. Now, I suggest you-"

A knock at the door made him quiet and we were interrupted by a voice that was rather coincidental, "Madame? Are you in there?"

"Yes, dear. One moment."

I held my throat for a moment after realizing that I wasn't even the one speaking. I turned to face Erik and he seemed to disappear. Although, I heard him whisper, "Deliver the message."

The lamps flickered on and my door unlocked. I sank into my chair, absorbing our sorry conversation until it was time to let her in, "Come in, Christine."

My door opened and the little brunette stepped inside, looking around curiously, "Odd. I thought I heard someone else."

"Probably just your imagination."

Christine nodded and sat in the chair adjacent to mine. She looked at my hand and I remembered that her letter was in plain view, "Yes, Christine. For you."

She accepted the letter with hesitation, gazing at her written name. I felt sorry for her already, but then I noticed the bouquet of white roses she carried. Somewhat curious, "Christine?" she looked up at me, her gaze pure, "Where did you get that lovely arrangement from?"

She smiled down at her flowers, stroking a petal, "My angel gave them to me last night for my birthday."

None of this was good news. The flowers, the note, the nightly lessons, though useful for Christine. I had to speak to Erik again. But how? I looked to the left of my desk at hole in the wall where my letters would appear. I knew somehow that wall would be my key to a conversation with him, "Alright, well," I opened my letter and Christine stood up, "enjoy your Saturday, dear."

"I will. Thank you, Madame."

As soon as she shut the door behind her, I set my letter down and looked inside the hole. There was nothing but brick until the light flickered off. No brick, but darkness as far as the eye could see. I grunted and stood from my chair to come face to face with piercing, yellow eyes. My first instinct was to gasp, "Oh, Erik. Stop that."

"I apologize, Madame."

The lamp flickered on to a dim setting and I saw Erik's porcelain mask for just the third time in my life. He sank into the armchair beside my bookcase with his grey Persian cat by his feet. I sat in my desk chair and he continued, "Did you want to speak with me?"

"Yes, Erik. What is going on between you and Christine? It's been nearly a year and things are starting to change. But it isn't her that's changing. It's you. What is it?"

Erik flashed his yellow eyes in humor of my question, "If you must know," he stood from the armchair, the cat cuddling up in his former place, "Erik has recently come to terms with an emotion he has never truly had experience with."

"Love?" he nodded solemnly, looking to the cat that seemed to be angry about this, "How do you know?"

He closed his eyes, which made me somewhat blind to him. When he opened them again, they were a warmer gold color and two tears rolled down either side of his porcelain mask. I didn't know how to react, having never seen a man cry before, "The first time I saw her, I actually smiled. When I found her eyes for the first time, a warmth grew in the pit of my stomach. I don't know any other explanation but love."

I knew Erik was a rather sad man from his friend - the Persian, Nadir - but I didn't know to what extent, "Your love is probably the greatest gift in the world, Erik. But Christine will have suitors after her soon-"

"The Persian was kind enough to let me know. But just so both of you fully understand, I am aware of that. It would be completely wasteful if a beautiful girl like her didn't have suitors."

"So what do you plan to do? Let your heart break further?"

"Christine promised to be faithful to our nightly lessons. Night is usually when suitors arrive," Erik nuzzled his feline into his arms, grazing the top of its head with his masked lips, "She won't falter. She is much too good."

"Erik, you can't just keep her from other men. One day, she will become a woman."

"I know, Madame," he softly stroked the grey cat, adjusting his fedora, "That is why I am planning something. Something that neither you or Nadir Khan will discover."