To Outwit an Angel

9. Stars

Sharlene's POV:

People had departed the opera hours ago. Another rehearsal had passed, and now, those many voices were silenced.

 I was more than glad to be amidst a career rebound. I slept easily at night and faced my days with energy and enthusiasm. All of a sudden, it seemed as though people didn't mind the fearsome Carlotta Giudecelli's presence. It only took a few days for the scare of our failed acid plot to wear off. Sure, we had yet to reattempt it, assuming that was still our plan at all, but that was future me's problem. Right now, all I had to do was live it up in the grand atmosphere of an opera where everyone adored me—or at least had to pretend they did.

 Lori didn't mind her diminished role in Il Muto either. Stardom simply wasn't for her, and she only bided her time until she could run off with the Phantom. Obviously, I reveled in the fame. The spotlights had found their next idol, and I refused to cower in their blinding glare.

 Right now, though, I mused on all of this while trying to fall asleep. I'd yet to experience a memory flash that told me the real Carlotta's home, so I continued to sleep in my rafters fort. It was pretty nice after a while, once one grew accustomed to the scents of dust and wood. It was dark and secluded, and with the opera so quiet at night, I slept like a baby.

 That sweet, blissful silence wrapped over me like a warm blanket, even better than the thin, tattered one I found in the real Christine's dressing room chest.

 Footsteps resounded nearby, jolting me from encroaching sleep.

 I hadn't heard a door open, but then again, the hinges here were so well-oiled that I was hardly surprised. But who was walking nearby?

 Oh no.

 Could it be...?

 The Phantom must have known about my current sleeping arrangements. Honestly, accounting for how much he despised the real Carlotta, I was shocked he hadn't come after me yet.

 But what was I doing, trembling under my little blanket and praying the intruder would leave? I was eighteen for God's sake, and I certainly wasn't afraid of some monster under the bed! Or below the rafters or whatever.

 "Who's there?" I asked.

 The quiver in my voice sent a rush of heat to my cheeks. But I was not like Lori, who was terrified of her own shadow, and I refused to be viewed as such.

 "Who's there?" My voice bounced off the theater's walls. "Show yourself!"

 Quickly, I grappled for the matchbox and candle I'd recently purchased.

 "Carlotta?"

 That voice was familiar, certainly not the Phantom, and heavily cloaked in an Italian accent.

 "Piangi?"

 My breath expelled in one long, relieved whoosh.

 "Yes. What are you doing here?" He asked.

 His voice was nearer now and directly underneath me, signaling he stood on the stage below.

 "I... That doesn't matter. What are you doing here?"

 He didn't respond for several seconds. Maybe he was doing something as equally questionable as me?

 "You'll think I've lost my wits, but despite all the positive feedback at rehearsals, I don't think I'm doing well in this show. Everyone else is. You especially have excelled everybody's expectations, but I feel nothing dynamic or, well, interesting about what I'm doing. I'm playing my role too safely, I know, but I can't figure out how to fix it. I came tonight to practice late and, hopefully, solve what's going on."