Mon Espion || Phantom of the Opera

Chapter 16 - Kidnapped Again

The Opera Populaire repeatedly told the public that there was nothing to worry about and that there was no ghost haunting it's grounds, but of course the reporters did not believe poor overwhelmed Monsieur Andre's and Monsieur Firmin's tale. Every chance the two gentlemen stepped outside, reporters would swarm the men, demanding any updates since the chandelier shattered upon the audience as well as the death over Joseph Boquet. It was never reported that Constance was fighting for her life or the very fact that two days after the incident, she had disappeared entirely. Her grief stricken parents, who had rode a day's worth trip from Nice all the way to Paris to watch their only child perform, only to see her crumbled under such a horrific accident caused quite an uproar with them entirely. They demanded answers from the managers as well and even threatened legal suite if their daughter had not been better taken care of. Only to have her disappear without any sort of trace other then a well written note with a familiar skeletal wax seal outside of its envelope. Flabbergasted, the manager's quickly dismissed the parents after finding out these newest of revelations and assured them they would find her. Her parents believed them for now, but they had a deadline or legal action would take place. Three months time or the Opera Populaire will be out of business. But where did the ballerina disappear to?

Unknown to anyone, Erik had lurked in the shadows the second night of her recovery, watching closely how well the doctors were taking care of the damsel. They constantly ran tests on the unresponsive child, pricking her delicate fingers and pressing cold metal objects close to her chest, trying to see if she was in fact alive. Several theories were thrown around before they agreed to officially diagnose her as a trauma induced coma. Erik had wept profusely, not caring about the thousands of dollars of damage that he had done to the theatre, not caring that he had killed a man but for the fact he could have very well killed his only friend, the only soul to show him true kindness that did not intend to play games with him, unlike another person.

After the chandelier had struck down on the stage, Christine as well as the rest of the cast did not become harmed and out of sheer luck, no one in the audience was killed. There were many injuries that the manager's were now having to reimburse them for, another problem for the overwhelmed operators of the theatre had to face in addition to still finding the money to pay off the opera Ghost. Erik did not pity them for their actions, he had warned them several times he would make them truly suffer for not listening to him and he had followed through with his promise. Although his plan was not entirely thought out but his message was surely by now understood.

Christine had come down to his home on both nights for reasons Erik was unsure of. She called him sweetly, claiming as if her love for him were real and not that of his imagination but Erik knew better, he knew the difference in the look in her eyes versus the look in Constance's. Oh, what a fool he had been. He knew that quite well now, now that there could be nothing to do about his founded wisdom. Erik never responded to her various calls of adoration and company, finding solace in his own tears instead of her arms. It is strange how things change. After about half an hour she would retire back to the prima donna room where he too could hear her own sorrow. Though he did feel a little guilty, his guilt for Christine was nothing comparable to his guilt for Constance, his espion.

That same night when he could no longer produce any more tears of sorrow and pity, after Christine had tried to seduce him back into her good graces and returned form whence she came, he crept from his home in hopes of seeing Constance, still clinging onto the hope that she was alive and hopefully out of her coma. He used a different passage entirely in hopes to avoiding his angel whom he wished not to disturb. After obtaining a secure exit, he continued until he reached the room where they were watching over the ballerina, her body still in the same position he had last seen her in. To watch her complexion fade into the same shade as the white cotton sheets was quite a pity; he knew he had to get her out of the room. He could take better care of her then the doctors could.