Of Phantoms and Angels

VII. Phantoms and Angels

     An uneasy quietness had descended upon the Opéra Populaire as night fell.  All settled into their beds to rest up for the performance the next evening.  Performers huddled together in their rooms, passing along whispers of the Opera Ghost.  In Lilienne's own room, the girls had slipped silently under their covers, no one daring to speak in their giddy way, as was their nightly custom.  But not on this night- even Camille lay asleep in her bed on the far wall closest to the door, unusually alone.

     Lilienne lay in her bed, holding a book open over her head, a single candle shedding just enough dim light for her to read by.  Beyond this circle of light, the world seemed especially dark, and Lilienne's mind kept drifting from the story in her hands to the shadows just outside her little ring of protection.

     Giving up on her book, Lilienne sat up in her bed.  She looked over the forms of the three other girls, all safely asleep, and she examined these shadows- people were so afraid of the dark, not for the absence of light, but for what hid within it; in the Paris Opera, it took the form of a man.  

     The image of him standing before her like a shadow, a dark mist, flew before her eyes; she remembered the way he had looked at her, as if those green eyes could see straight through her; she remembered his white face, half-hidden behind an even whiter mask.  And she had thought- she had seen nothing to fear in that face, in those eyes.  He was, in fact, a man, and only a man, warm-blooded and tangible- there were no such things as phantoms, and this man was no exception.

     Suddenly, the shadows appeared less dense to Lilienne- she was not afraid of the ghost who haunted the opera house, nor had she ever been.  She'd never had a reason to be, for he'd never meant her harm, and she saw no reason to fear him now.

     Reaching to her nightstand, she traded her book for the candle, pulled her dressing robe over her thin night dress and quietly crept from the room.  Her step illuminated by the weak flicker of her flame.  Her dancer's toes carried her swiftly and silently down the opera house and through the maze of seats in the auditorium.  She climbed up onto the stage, any fear she'd had before immediately dissolving like a dream upon waking.  With her candle, she lit a single stage light and stood in the centre of the bright circle.

     She looked out over the imaginary audience with a dramatic smile, taking in a deep breath before letting it out in the form of song.

Think of me,

Think of me fondly

When we've said goodbye.

Remember me

Once in a while,

Please promise me you'll try.

     Until now, she'd only had her own echo to accompany her, but as she held her note, the familiar sound of the violin crescendo-ed in to support her.  She opened her mouth to continue the song, but as she searched for the mysterious musician, no sound escaped her.  The mysterious violin stopped with her.

     "Don not stop on my account."  A deep male voice echoed strongly throughout the auditorium, and Lilienne couldn't decide from which direction it came.

     "Who are you?"  Her own voice barely broke the space illuminated by the light, and her eyes kept trying to find signs of him.

     "Child, I am the Angel of Music."

     "Angel, or Phantom?"  She asked, all the pieces of this puzzle finally fitting together, "You came to Christine, you taught her to sing.  She believed you were the Angel of Music, but then she was taken... by the Phantom of the Opera."