Hopeful Soul: A Phantom Story

Chapter Sixteen.

MADAME GIRY:

My office was quite for the first three hours of business. That was until the lights turned off. I sighed, expecting Erik to show up when then flickered back on. Instead, it was Christine. Though she had disappeared for three days, she was clean and it looked like nothing happened to her until I looked deeper into this. She was frightened, obviously. She shivered as if she had been severely hurt and yet there were no scars or bruises. I rested my hand on her shoulder and she gazed at me with hope, wrapping her arms around my waist, "Oh, Madame!"

I shushed her, stroking through her long curls, "It will be alright, Christine."

"I angered him," she backed away from me and I saw a letter appear on my desk, "Not only that, b- but I saw his face. It was terrifying."

After I picked up the letter, I soon realized who she was referring to and felt intensely all apologetic. She needed rest and some place safe to stay, so I reached into my pocket for my house keys and five francs. I handed to Christine, "Here you are. I want you to stay at my home for the rest of the day, alright. Use the francs to call a carriage and the key to unlock the front door. The room to left will be yours and there are plenty of gowns."

She smiled at the silver key and nodded her pretty head, looking up at me with a soft gleam of thanks, "Thank you, Madame."

As Christine headed out, I sat at my desk chair and opened the skull sealed envelope. The note explained everything in much clearer details:

Though it was sad that was the only reason Christine returned, I had to warn the managers. When Erik said dire consequences, it would be wise to do as your told with the horrors he was capable of unwinding. I went out to the foyer, where I heard quite a commotion - assuming that's where they were - and interrupted a giant argument between La Carlotta, Piangi, Raoul le Vicomte and Messieurs Richard and Moncharmin.

They glared at me for moment and I said confidently, "Mademoiselle Daaé has returned."

The Vicomte was elated by this news, whereas Carlotta scowled, "May I see her?"

"She needed rest, Monsieur. Christine will be here tomorrow to perform as the Countess."

La Carlotta let out a great groan and I stood my ground. Monsieur Richard went to the auburn-haired diva, gently patting her back only to be slapped away, "Christine, Christine! All you sad, little men want is that precious," sarcasm flew out of her mouth as she headed for the front doors, "little, Christine!"

I met the quintet at the entrance doors to the opera and when the diva La Carlotta slammed them open there were reporters, as far as the eye could see, calling out for Christine. As Monsieur Moncharmin closed and locked the doors, I could only hope that Christine arrived safely at my home, "Your public needs you."

"We need you, too."

I had to warn them. Terrible things could happen if Christine didn't have that lead. I had no idea what, quite frankly, but I intended not to find out, "Messieurs," I interrupted, "the opera ghost tells of grave dangers, should you not cast Christine in the lead."

"I have yet to see this opera ghost commit evils upon us. If Christine cannot show today, then she has no business being the lead. She will play the paigeboy."

"Monsieur, you don't want to know what he is capable-"

"Silence, Madame. I would rather not get into the details. You would like to keep your job, wouldn't you?"

With a nod, I went up the foyer stairs and towards the backstage door, but I heard footsteps behind me - I was being followed. I reached for the door to my office, but turned my head to see none other than the Vicomte de Chagny, "I apologize, Madame. But I heard a voice coming from Christine's dressing room the other night and thought you may know more."

The voice he spoke about I knew all too well, but I couldn't talk about Erik - it was forbidden, "No, Monsieur."

After entering my office, he followed and took a seat in a guest chair in front of my desk, "Please, Madame," he had bloodshot eyes, as if he'd been crying for hours before, "I worry for her. I fear she isn't safe."

With a sigh, I settled into the comfort of my desk chair. I daren't bring up the name Erik, but I had to do something. He cared enough to dig into possibly the most dangerous thing in Paris, so he deserved at least some respect, "I cannot tell you everything, Monsieur, for fear of losing my job... and my life. But I will tell you that the man's voice, who was once an angel to Christine, is something much worse."

"Why can you not tell me any more?"

"Because Christine will tell you," another stack of papers appeared on my desk and I knew that I was playing a dangerous game, "when she is ready."