The Demon's Child and the Phantom

Chapter 7

Phantom's POV:

I hadn't meant to scare the poor ballet rat. I simply came to see if that new violinist that Daroga hired was falling into place in the orchestra. The last had been too terrible to even attempt to listen to, and had to be fired. I was watching as the violinist hit his notes perfectly and the music that was terrible last week became the pleasant melody it was meant to be. Unfortunately, one of the newest ballet rats looked up into the rafters at the wrong moment and she saw me and screamed.

Foolish ballet rat that she was screamed and began to wail in such a shrill sound that it hurt my ears. It was also pointless for her to do such a thing, as if she could get anyone else to see me before I slipped away. I'm an excellent Phantom and I can become nothing more than shadow when I want to. I was leaving the theater when I thought I heard footsteps behind me and I was forced to side step into one of the passageways in the hallway. Perhaps I'm beginning to lose my touch, I should focus more.

I watched as a young woman with black hair, full of curls rushed by. For a moment, my heart wept for my lost love Christine but she didn't look anything like her. She was a bit taller than Christine, and her hair was much darker than Christine's had been, even seeming to have a streak of red in it. It was just the curls in her hair that reminded my foolish heart of what I lost. Of what I never had as my own to begin with.

I waited a few seconds before leaving the passageway and continuing in the shadows. I heard them laughing as I turned the corner, three of the under-washed and overpaid stage hands. There held up against the wall was the black-haired girl, and they were choking her. I didn't interfere at first, curious as to what she had done to anger them so much then I heard him say it.

"We may not be able to catch him but we caught you well enough devil spawn didn't we?"

I watched her stop fighting him as much and then I stepped from the side shadows into the shadows directly behind them and saw what they meant. The girl was beautiful, with skin as pale as the moonlight to offset her beautifully dark black curls with a bright blood red streak running through it on one side.

It wasn't her hair or her skin that caught my immense attention though, it was her eyes that seemed to pierce my very soul as I stared at her. One was blue with silver in it and one was red, both were brighter than anyone else's eyes I had ever seen, including my own. I listened to the man that was holding her by her precious throat as she struggled against his hand a bit less than before.

The foolish superstition comes rushing to my mind that someone with two different colored eyes was evil, when I know that to be false completely. There have been plenty of people in history that were evil with two normal colored eyes. I felt the anger grow inside of me as tears grew in her eyes and I saw red as I realized that those fools thought she was with me because of her eyes. I felt my anger surge again as I glared at the man's hand around the throat of the young gasping angel, as I grabbed my lasso in my hands before I started singing in my haunting voice.

"Keep your hand at the level of your eyes."

The two others immediately ran while the third dropped the girl, leaving her gasping for air and holding her throat on the ground. He tried to run but I snapped my lasso around him and pulled him to me. I made him face me and warned him about touching things that didn't belong to him before I threw him across the room. I will have to make a note explaining my actions to Daroga later but better that than if I had killed them all like I wanted. In fact, I feel that had the girl been unconscious when I happened across them I would have killed them all.

I watched the lowlife scum stand up from the floor and run away just as the girl was starting to stand up still gasping for air. I had planned on disappearing back into the shadows before she saw me and screamed as I knew she probably would. Different or not there are few who can look at me, masked or unmasked, without screaming.

That was what I had planned but as she stood I watched her sway and then I watched her start to fall. Before realizing what I was doing, I caught her and held her in my arms. I saw her look at me for just a moment with those bright eyes, before she shut them and fell into my chest. Without a second thought I picked her up and carried her down into the abyss that I call home.

I laid her down on the bed that I had once laid Christine on, but as I looked at her I didn't feel the familiar, tormenting pain in my heart as I thought about Christine and her betrayal. I could only think about this bruised beauty before me and how she was the first person I've touched in over two years. I gently caress the bruises forming on her neck with my gloved hand, and watch as she flinches away with a soft look of pain on her face as she does.

I walk out into the main room and dip a small cloth into the cold lake water before walking back to her side. I lay it gently over her bruises and I watch as her breathing becomes steadier. She's different than most women her age, or at least I think she is. Though honestly she looks a bit like a child, not much older than....than Christine did when she first came to me. I take a closer look at her and I see how pale her skin is, almost as pale as mine and I wonder if she has been ill. The bright red streak of hair appears naturally unnatural, as I have never seen such a bright red hair color.

I take a deep breath and see that she smells of roses and.....sunshine if that's at all possible. She's also wearing a long sleeved dress, simple and plain in nature, even though it is the beginning of summer and every other lady I see in the opera house is wearing their lighter short sleeved dresses. The ballerinas have even taken to just wearing their uniforms after practice finishes to avoid the layers of clothing under the heat, but she's wearing this. I watch as she sighs in her sleep and a small smile forms on her lips. As I stare at her lips and the smile that's on them, I feel a small one grow on my own lips.

I stand and walk quietly out of the room and sit down at the organ and start playing soft tunes to ensure that she will sleep well and to rid myself of the anger I feel towards those monsters disguised as men that harmed her. My heart doesn't feel as broken as I play for her and I find myself wondering why and how she is mending my heart when I don't even know her name. I smirk a bit at the thought that maybe she is a witch like the superstitions would say after all, but a good one if she can repair a monster's broken heart.