Beneath the Porcelain Mask

43. The Scorpion and the Grasshopper

Trigger warning: mentions of blood.

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Shards of glass flew in all directions. I leapt from my seat to the floor, taking cover with my arms over my head. I winced as screams, of pain this time, arose around me, and heard the thuds of one or two bodies nearby.

Jeremy.

He'd been close to where the chandelier must have fallen. Against common sense, I pushed myself up. The sight I'd vaguely prepared myself for was decidedly not the one I met with.

Flames blazed through the auditorium, leaping like wolves between rows of seats. They roared with an insatiable hunger, twisting this way and that in a search for victims. I froze against my seat, watching their snapping jaws latch onto the velvet and wood.

Behind me, something crackled. I dared to look over my shoulder. One of those fiery beasts had broken free of its pack and had its crackling eyes fixed on me. I shuffled back along the floor, unable to take my eyes from it.

Deep breaths, I told myself, feeling my lungs contract and retract faster and faster as memories awoke in the back of my mind. But the air was heavy with the scent of burning flesh, and I distantly heard myself scream for Jeremy.

I squeezed my eyes shut, covering my already masked face and curling into a ball at the end of the aisle. My heart seemed fit to pound straight through my ribcage. The erratic breathing did nothing to help. I gnawed viciously on my lip, willing myself to wake up from such a nightmare.

But I'd never before felt the crushing sensation in my chest when I dreamt, and with a dry gulp, I realised this was not something I could wake up from. This was real, and it was happening all over again.

"Jeremy!" I squeaked.

The flame had borne offspring, and now the whole pack jumped over the seats towards me. With a cry, I pushed myself to my feet and hurried onto the aisle, looking back to see my seat and Jeremy's consumed by their sweltering hunger. I stepped away, almost tripping over my feet.

The crashed chandelier was unlike anything I'd ever seen, the birthplace of the fire. I tore my morbid stare from the crushed limbs that lay beneath its once majestic arms. Everywhere I looked, flames snarled and devoured, cornering people in their rows or against walls, deaf to their screams for help and merciless in their appetite.

I scanned once more for Jeremy. Nothing. The exits were still blocked with a crowd surge; perhaps he'd been pushed out already. I held fast to that hope and gritted my teeth. There was no rational way I would get from the stage to the exit without being caught by the flames, not in this dress. But those were not the only exits in the auditorium. Once, flames had ruined my life, burned it to charred pieces of skin which I'd always need to mask. What was a few more?

Pushing the heat from my mind, I hurried towards the orchestra pit and vaulted the wall, landing amongst abandoned instruments and sheets. I grabbed the original score and wrapped it in my shawl, and fumbled with the wall for the right panel. Something budged against my hand, and I tumbled into cold, musty darkness.

I dragged a breath and coughed, leaning against the wall in a bid to stop my legs from shaking.

Erik. They wouldn't let him go this time. Raoul wouldn't let him escape with Christine. The Inspector he was talking to earlier wouldn't let Raoul go after her on his own. And the staff wouldn't let the police force go after them without lighting torches and following.

He'd be ripped to shreds!

He deserves it.

I reached for the wall, finding the end of the passage, and opened the catch, letting myself out into a lonely corridor the other side of the stage. A few stragglers dashed about, gathering a few possessions and bolting for the door as the halls filled with smoke. I clutched the score to my chest and peered down at it like a child swaddled in cloths. The first pages had burned and discoloured from the smoke and heat, but the rest seemed to be in fair condition.