At the Opera House

Chapter 15: Threats

"You never told me why you never told me you could sing." Meh commented two days after the audition. It was Monday, and audition results had been announced.

Christine didn't answer, her hands ran along the script she had been given just a few minuets before.

Her eyes weren't looking at them, she had known that she would have gotten the part. She had known as soon as she had seen Erik clapping his hands with the rest of them.

She was looking at the title, centered and written in large scrawling letters.

Don Yuan Triumphant.

"Christine, what is it? You're acting odd."

Christine looked up from the script and gave Meg a pained smile. "Please Meg, not now." She whispered.

Meg blinked, then nodded and went to join her mother, who was calling for the ballerina's to begin rehearsal.

Christine suddenly began walking away from the ballerina's, clutching the script to her chest. Her lips pressed themselves together, her eyes hard with worry and anger.

How dare he.

How dare he!

Even when they no longer met, he just couldn't seem to stay out of her life.

It wasn't his fault really, obviously he had ordered the managers to put on his own play before he had known that Christine would audition. Of course he would make sure that she would get the lead. She would have done the same herself had the roles been switched, she had been the best singer, the best singers get the lead roles.

Now what on earth was she going to do?

"Brat." Someone muttered. Christine looked up to see Carlotta's venomous glare as they passed in the halls. Carlotta, Christine noted, had no script at all.

She had heard that some old favorite's of the Opera, those who had not musch talent but much influence and money, had been sacked. It was whispered that the Opera Ghost would no longer stand those who bribed their way to the top.

Christine knew it was because he only wanted the best for his Opera. His Opera. The one he had found a new muse for not so long ago.

"Stupid, stupid idea." She muttered. "Why couldn't it have been Faust? I don't even like Faust."

Her hand found a doorknob and she stumbled into her dressing room, a few candles lit the room. Despite the fact that she never remembered lighting them, Christine sat on a nearby stool and slapped the script on her dressing room table.

"Erik." She snapped. "Erik where on earth are you?"

There was no answer, if he had lit her candles he was long gone now. Christine groaned, leaning her face into her hands.

A gentle knock at the door made her jump, carefully wiping her eyes she shouted for the knocker to come in.

"I think you and I need to talk." A gentle voice called from behind her.

Christine groaned and turned to face Nadir. "I've had enough of you and your inquisitive questions."

He gave her a grin and held up his hands in defense. "Now, now, you're starting to sound like Erik."

Christine frowned. "Listen, Erik had nothing to do with me auditioning."

"I don't believe that." Nadir's voice turned cold. "He only wants the best for his opera, and even I-" he pointed his finger at Christine. "tone deaf as I am, could tell that you were by far the best singer."