Between Mirrors and Roses (A Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction) ✓

4: Back in the Opera House

A massive staircase, polished to a mirror-shine by the toil of overworked maids, dominated the foyer of the Palais Garnier. Everything about the grand entrance hall—from the impressive, double-winged staircase to the intricate, plaster scrollwork along the walls—spoke of the opulence favored by the aristocracy. 

Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny belonged to the selfsame aristocracy that the hall's ornamentation sought to impress, but as he stormed into the gilded, gleaming hall that morning, he was oblivious to the splendor around him. He caught sight of the people he sought standing in a cluster on the landing of the staircase and veered toward them. When strains of music began to play in his mind, he didn't give them a second thought. 

He started to sing. "Where is she?" he demanded. 

Monsieurs Andre and Firmin were not delighted at the distressed Vicomte's appearance. They had enough on their hands—what with the opera ghost's mysterious demands and la Carlotta's refusal to perform. The last thing they needed was the fledgling patron getting worked up about who-knew-what.

"You mean Carlotta?" asked Firmin.

"I mean Miss Daae," Raoul replied. "Where is she?"

Not the other soprano, too. Andre answered this time. "Well how should we know?"

"I want an answer! I take it that you sent me this note." Raoul shoved an open envelope into Andre's face. 

The manager swallowed when he saw the Vicomte's name penned on the front in an achingly familiar hand. Just to be sure, Andre checked the opera ghost's letter still clutched tightly in his own hand. Yes, they both bore the same elegant script. 

"What's all this nonsense?" Firmin, peering over Andre's shoulder, recognized the penmanship almost as quickly as Andre had. They shared a glance, then turned back to Raoul.

"Of course not!" Andre sang in response to Raoul's question. 

"Don't look at us!" Firmin added, his cogs turning as fast as they could on rusted hinges. 

Raoul would not be fazed. "She's not with you then?"

"Of course not!" Andre echoed his earlier remark, wondering why the boy cared so much.

"We're in the dark!" Firmin insisted.

"Monsieur don't argue. Isn't this the letter you wrote?" Raoul dismissed Firmin and handed his partner the letter.

Andre opened it with a wary glance back at Firmin, who stepped closer, demanding to be included.

"And what is it that we're meant to have wrote?" asked Firmin. "Written," he amended quickly, realizing his mistake. 

Andre read the letter to the other two. "'Do not fear for Miss Daae. The Angel of Music has her under his wing. Make no attempt to see her again.'" 

Raoul was growing impatient. Who was this "Angel of Music" who presumed he could speak for Christine? "If you didn't write it, then who did?"  

Just then, a monstrosity of pink clattered into the room on heels as tall as her ego. 

"Where is he?" Carlotta shouted. 

"Ah, welcome back!" Firmin said weakly.

Carlotta ignored his remark. "Your precious patron. Where is he?"

"What is it now?" replied Raoul.

Carlotta turned to the sound of his voice and marched up to him, brandishing a letter in his face much the way he had to Andre. "I have your letter. A letter which I rather resent."