The Musician's Maid

Prologue

March, 1856

Only three musicians were left under the large white awning that had been set up outside the stage door: Teddy, me, and the violinist from Paris. Teddy and I sat on the wooden step that led into the opera house, each bent over the new score that I had composed for the operetta that would debut in less than a month. The violinist leaned against the wall of the building, tuning his battered instrument. The merchants that usually occupied the alleyway beside the stage door had already packed up their stalls for the evening. However, the alley still retained the lingering odor of decaying fish.

The alley led out to the - recently busy- stone street that was directly in front of the opera house. A few buggies would occasionally pass by, but now most of the coaches were parked along the street, being held by shivering coach drivers. The street lamps had recently been lit, casting a warm glow on the opera house. Aside from that, the opera house seemed to resonate light itself from all of the gas lamps that surrounded the building, although, even the lights from the opera house couldn't cast a satisfying glow on my sheet music.

The orchestra could be faintly heard from outside, and they played their last bounding notes before a loud applause erupted from the audience. I stared at the violinist as he finished tuning his violin, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. The applause died down and the orchestra began playing again, slower this time. I closed my eyes and waited for the sound of her voice. Then I heard it, soft and faint from the alleyway, but I knew its power inside the opera house.

I opened my eyes, and then realized that Teddy was looking at me expectantly. I hadn't been listening to his question, so I simply nodded my head. He leaned forward, his breath visible in the cool air.

"All I'm saying," he said, locking eyes with me, "Is it's gonna be tough when your gone." He leaned back against the step and rubbed his hands together. I sighed, looking back at the stage door. I picked up the sheet music, put it back in its leather case, and rose to my feet.

"Well," I said, "I suppose this is it then." I reached my hand out and Teddy shook it, locking eyes with me for a moment. His eyes were as cold as the air, and he lowered his voice so that the violinist couldn't hear him.

"You remember what I told you, alright?" He said, raising his eyebrows for emphasis. I nodded and he let go of my hand, looking satisfied. The violinist, who had picked up his instrument again, gave me a quick nod of the head. Tucking the leather case under my arm, I walked down the alleyway toward the street. Some snowflakes had begun to fall upon my shoulders.

I reached the end of the alleyway, and everything seemed to stand still. At that moment, I realized that the music had come to a screeching halt. I paused, feeling a chill go through my spine. Something was not right. I spun on my heel and saw that Teddy was on his feet, frozen like I was. His eyebrows were raised and he looked at the stage door with worry.

For a moment, no one moved a muscle - all eyes were on the stage door. A few snowflakes danced along with the wind in a side-to-side motion.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" I asked.

Teddy didn't answer me, but kept his eyes on the door. Then, a high-pitched scream echoed through the opera house and into the hallway, followed by numerous other screams.

"Shit!" Teddy bolted to the door and flung it open. The screams were clearer now and people began to run out of the front of the opera house and into the street. The violinist threw his instrument to the ground and he and Teddy bolted into the opera house. I ran after them.

"Teddy, what is going on?" I shouted. I reached the stage door and felt my heart skip a beat. The opera house had erupted into ciaos. Actors and musicians scrambled to grab their items and run out the stage door. Stagehands ran as fast as they could from one area to the next, carrying large buckets of water. One almost trampled me over. His face was covered in ash.

"Fire! On the main stage!" He bellowed, before running off again. I staggered backwards a step. Emily was on stage. It felt like I had a stake in my chest as I took off running after the man. Blood coursed through my veins, and the air got thicker as I made my way through the wooden platforms and walls backstage. I had to dodge the people who were franticly making their way out of the theatre, but I scanned their faces as they ran past, looking for Emily. I didn't see her, so I continued making my way to the stage.

The curtains on the side of the stage were covered in flames, but I pushed past them until I was surrounded. I began to cough because of the smoke, and I could barely see where I was going, but I managed to make my way to the front of the stage. It was intensely hot, so I threw off my jacket and necktie. I then leapt into the orchestra pit, landing on a large drum and crashing to the ground. I shook my head and rose to my feet, looking about the theatre.

The seats were all empty, but the flames made their way up the velvety curtains to the box seats and began to spread throughout the entire area. The stone carvings seemed demonic with the flames licking their faces. I heard a deep rumbling sound, and looked up at the rafters above the stage. They were quickly catching fire and were beginning to collapse.

It was then that I saw the stage. The once lavish set was in shambles, and flames consumed the entire structure. I looked at the spot where Emily would have been singing, but saw that her large platform had caved in on itself.

"Emily!" I screamed. I leapt onto the stage, weary of the weak rafters above me, and made my way over to her platform. Her platform hadn't caught fire yet, so I climbed on top of it, frantic to find her. "Emily!" I called again.

"Douglas!" I heard her cry. My heart leapt in my chest, and I quickly climbed over her platform to jump down to the other side, which had another wooden platform surrounded by curtains -that were very close to catching on fire. I looked around, but I didn't see her anywhere. I called her name again, and then heard banging coming from the floor. "Douglas, is that you?" She cried. Christ, she was in the trap door!

Falling to my hands and knees, I frantically moved my hands around, feeling for the latch. She continued to bang on the trap door, and I stole a quick glance at the rafters. The flames were quickly eating them away. The ceiling wouldn't hold much longer. I moved my hands around some more, and then I felt the latch. It was made of rope, so I put all of my weight into it and gave it a hard tug. After three tries the hatch sprung open with a blast of hot air following it.

I looked down inside that tiny space and saw Emily. She looked up at me and let out a sigh of relief that sounded like a sob. She smiled as tears streamed down from her eyes. She was shiny with sweat and her hair had almost completely come undone. Her costume was soggy and ripped, and pieces of it lay at her feet. She began to climb out of the box and I reached down and pulled her up the rest of the way. As soon as she was out I pulled her close to me and we embraced. She breathed heavily, sucking in the smoky air, and coughed. I pat her back and looked up at the ceiling. We were running out of time.

"Come on," I said, and we both ran off the stage and into the backstage area, which was very different than when I had first come in. Everyone had vanished, and props and set pieces were strewn all over the floor. The fire had spread to the dressing rooms and I could hear the rafters creaking. Pulling Emily alongside me, we made our way down the hot hallway. Smoke was filling the air and making it very hard to breath. I pulled my handkerchief out of my pocket and handed it to Emily, who pressed it over her mouth and nose. I put my arm over my mouth as well, but it didn't help much.

"Don't take another step!" A rough voice bellowed. Still holding Emily's hand, I turned my head and saw George standing behind us in the center of the hallway. He must have come from one of the dressing rooms. He was drenched in sweat, his black hair sticking to his face, and his -usually shaped- wig was limp. His cheeks were red, and he was visibly shaking as he raised a pistol and pointed it at us.

"George, what the hell are you doing? We have to get out of here!" Emily protested.

"You shut your mouth, whore!" He cocked the pistol with his thumb, and Emily and I started walking backwards. I looked at Emily expecting her to be frightened, but was surprised when I saw that her face was totally blank. Calm even. She took a step back with me and squeezed my hand.

"You've destroyed everything!" He shouted, looking about wildly. "I hope you two rot in Hell!" He took a step toward us. I closed my eyes, preparing for the worst.

And then I heard the sound of a gunshot.