Angel of Music

When the Ghost is Threatned

   Disclaimer: Do I have to say it? Really? Ugh...fine. I don't own *mumbles* the phantom of the opera.

To say Christine did well would be a lie.
   No, Christine was utter perfection. She sounded like the angels in the heavens. The crowd loved her, just as I knew they would. I believe there had never been a better production played the the Opera Populaire, and I am quite sure there shall be many more to come. The applause was so loud it could be heard from out in the streets in Pairs.
  Walking briskly down my stair well, I pass the air vent where I give Christine her lessons. I quickly glance to see if she is there. She isn't, but I know where she would have gone.

                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Brava....Brava....Bravissima." I whisper sing.
  Christine sits on the stone floor of a dark room. The only light that transcends across the small room is a candle. The candle sits on a small desk, the only piece of furniture in the room. Sitting next to the candle, is an picture of a man. Above him, a single name etched in the frame:
Gustave Daae
Christine glances up at the ceiling towards my voice, smiling as she does so. I want to tell her how wonderful she did with my own voice, to praise her and make her understand how proud I am.
  Before I can, I hear a little voice echo through the halls nearby.
  "Christine! Christine!" It is the voice of Meg Giry, a ballerina who has become good friends with my prodigy.
   "Where have you been hiding, mademoiselle?" Meg giggles. "You were perfect out there," she says touching Christine's shoulder.
  Christine is still wearing her costume, a slightly less ridiculous version of Carlotta's. But somehow, Christine looks beautiful just the same.
  "Thank you, Meg." Christine smiles at her friend.
  "I only wish..." Meg whispers.
  "Wish what?" Christine asks alarmed.
  "What is your secret, Christine? What have you been keeping from me? I had no idea you had a teacher. Who is he?" The ballerina asks rushing her words and slurring them together.
  "Meg...." Christine sighs. "When your mother brought me here to the Opera Populaire to love after my father's death...a voice started to speak to me. I was lonely and grieving...but this voice helped me, Meg." She groans, seeing Meg's disbelieving look.
  "Father once spoke of an angel....I used to dream he would come to me. And now...when I sing...I know he is here, watching me. He is here in this very room! He calls to me, Meg. My angel of music."
  I swallow. Christine disobeyed me...she told someone about me. But how can I blame her? And I certainly can't stay mad at her right after she triumphed.
  "Christine...do you believe?"
  "Who else, Meg?" Christine breaths, her look turning hallow. "He is with me...even now." She says paleing.
  "You're hands...the are freezing!" Meg clutches Christine's small hand.
  "All...all....around me....he never leaves..." Her eyes flicker around the room frantically, searching for her angel.
   Searching for me.
"Christine, your face is white!" Meg touches my angel's face  gently with one hand.
  "If frightens me, Meg!" Christine screams, so unexpected that the ballerina shudders.
   I shudder. I shrivel up at the terrified expression on my Christine.
   Was she truly frightened of her angel?
  "Don't be frightened..." I hear Meg say as she leads Christine back to her dressing room.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~

I slowly walk up the stairs to the air vent above Christine's dressing room. My head is pounding--far to many dangerous thoughts in my head. To many feelings... Jut then, I thought comes to me. I remember that I have made a new way for Christine and I to contact.
I turn on my heel quickly and In my haze, I miss a step. Crying out, I crash onto the stone steps, my black cloak flying over my head. Shrugging it off of me, I sit up.
"Arg!" I grunt from the soreness of falling.
   "Stupid Erik..." I mutter to myself. "Talking in third person, too," I whisper raising to my feet. "You really are mad." I chuckle.
     I try and forget the fear etched on Christine's lovely face. I wince inwardly, but successfully push the thought aside. Instead, I think of my creation that will help Christine and I communicate. It is a floor length mirror that is plastered on the wall of her dressing room. The mirror allows me to look into her room and see her closer without Christine seeing me. I made sure that she could still hear me, of course.
   I stand in front of my half of the glass and look for my Christine.
  I gasp at the image before me.
  Christine is sitting on her stool in front of her white vanity and a man is kneeling at her feet. She is happy to see him, her bright smile and shinning eyes indicate that.
   I stifle my gasp in order to hear what they are saying.
  "Little Lottie, I've misses you." Says the man.
  "Oh Raoul," Christine throws her arms around the man's neck. "And I've missed you!"
Jealousy surges threw my veins, my fits ball up at my sides. Who is this man to come into my Christine's dressing room and embrace her?
Just then, Christine begins to sing.
"No what I love best Lottie said, is when I'm asleep in my bed. And the angel of music sings songs in my head."
The man called Raoul smiles and the sing together, a gentle harmony flooding like a whisper throughout the room.
"And the angel of music sings songs in my head..."
Christine's happy gaze turns serious.
"Father said to me before he died, 'when I am in heaven child, I shall send the angel of music to you.' Well, father is gone, Raoul."
"I know," replies the man. "I am so sorry Christine. I should have been there for you."
"I am all right now," Christine rushes. "The past is past. But I have been visited by the angel of music."
She told anther person about me! My cheeks flush, and my breaths become uneven.
"No doubt if it," says the man standing. "And now, we shall ascend to dinner." Chuckling the man walks to the door.
So, he doesn't believe her then...I think quietly to myself, my anger from a few moments ago dying.
"Raoul...I can't." The man turns, and I am able to see his face.
It is none other than the Vilcomte! The new patron of the Opera Popualire.
In disbelief, I study his face.
"And why not?" He asks hurt.
"The angel of music is very strict." The Vilcomte laughs lightly at Christine.
"Well I shan't keep you up late," he says turning the door knob. "Get dressed and meet me out front, my carriage is waiting Little Lottie!" The Vilcomte de Changy laughs once more before shutting to door.
My heart shivers. Christine must know the Vilcomte, they must have been friends before she came to the Opera Populaire.
How is that possible? I wonder silently. Unless the Vilcomte has been her suitor. My mind retorts.
My gaze snaps to Christine. The look on her face is helplessness. She rises to her feet and disappears behind her folding screen to change.
I expect her to come out from behind it changed into a coat and hat, but instead she emerges with her usually white night dress.
I smiles smugly to myself. Christine would rather stay here an have her usual music lesson with me, than have supper with a Vilcomte!
Christine begins to brush her chestnut curls when I speak.
"What an Insolent boy, a slave of fashion. And basking in your glory none the less!"
Christine begins to smile, but it quickly dies at the tone of my voice.
"Angel?" She whispers.
"Ignorant fool that brave young suitor is, trying to share in my triumph!"
"Angel, please. He meant no harm. My soul was weak, and I ask for forgiveness, but I had no intention of leaving you for a meal." Christine stands, and I see for the first time that she has a single red rose in her hand.
I instructed Madame Giry to give the Rose to Christine and tell her that I was pleased with her performance.
  I watch as Christine's fingertips brush the soft red peddles. She sets the rose down, and turns your gaze upward, no doubting she believes to be looking at me.
  "Enter at last, my angel. Please, revel yourself to me. I wish to lay my eyes upon you, angel."
  I believe that planing things in advance are always the best things to do, for you have had time to think about it. But, Christine makes me do things on impulse.
  "Flattering child...you shall know me. Oh, wonderful Christine, you shall see why in shadow I hide," taking a deep breath and stepping so close to the glass, Christine must surely see me. "Look at your face in the mirror....I am there inside!"

Authors note: hey! Hoped you liked it! Please comment!!