The Phantom's Daughter

Chapter Eighteen

I was pissed to see that my demands had not been met—I had been warned of what would happen should they not heed! A horror beyond their imagination! They and all of Paris France who had come to see tonight would see what it means to defy the Phantom of the Opera.

I sent my little helper off to make sure Joseph Buquett wouldn’t get in my way. So willing the child was to please, and all I had to do was give her food and a warm bed to sleep in. See? It really wasn’t that hard to deal with children; they didn’t need to be yelled at or hit unnecessarily to get them to mind you.

Quickly I went to my Christine.

“Christine.” I said, as she was getting ready…demoted to a corner beyond stage with Meg to get ready for the show. She looked adorable in her Page Boy costume, the pants shaped her legs nicely, but she deserved more than some frilly blue pants. She deserved a ballgown with a large hoop skirt and jewels to cover her! And that’s exactly what I intended to give her tonight when I would take Carlotta off the stage.

“Oh! Angel, is that you?”

“It is, my dear. Do not be troubled. Carlotta shall not sing tonight. Be prepared to dress quickly and take her place. You’ve worked hard and earned this part.”

“But maestro, how can this be?” she asked worriedly, putting her beautiful little hands to her cheeks. I saw Meg a little in the distance, turning her head slightly back towards us, looking directly at me in the shadows, before searching the ceiling, she must have sensed my presence. Little Meg was good at doing that. She’d be a good performer too, but right now I had to focus on my pupil.

“I will take care of everything. Tonight you shall see me in the Opera. Look for me. Wait for my cue. And more importantly, be ready to sing!” I went away before she could respond.

Taking the vile out of my pocket, I snuck just below the stage. I had to hurry, but I knew my way in the dark and was able to move quickly. Opening a tiny trap door right where Carlotta’s tray of perfumes and mouth sprays was with her waiting maids, I dumped the vile into her wine, knowing she’d take a drink before the show. No wonder she acted like a fool onstage—I never allowed Christine a sip of alcohol near a performance to keep her on her best. The One True Faith also made sure of that with the sin of drunkenness. Christine was too sweet a thing to taste the fruits of intoxication. I dumped a small amount in her perfume too that Carlotta used on her touch before going on stage. Just in case.

As predicted, the opening scene rang out. The chorus rang out in the song 's introduction, setting the stage for Countess and her lover! And here came Carlotta, strolling to take her sip of wine, touch up her hair, and spray. She took her sweet time, acting as if she rang the show. The chorus, well-aware of this, carefully and strategically sang, blending in pauses and musical cords to wait for her, but hid from the audience that they were stalling. I had to give it to them, it was clever and well thought out.

And here came Carlotta, too loud and bold, proudly proclaiming her affair. Going over to where Christine sat as the page boy to give the illusion of a bold kiss behind her fan. My stomach burned in fury as I made my way back up to the rafters. Carlotta was a bully and a cheat—and Rita was wrong. She was horrible at playing the role of Countess. The Countess was clever, and sly, and conniving. Carlotta brought shame to her own character. Pathetic.

With everyone in their seats, I could boldly walk in the back aisleways that led to the boxes. Madeleine gave me a surprised look to see me so out in the open like this, as she stayed guarded by box five that she had always attended and warned that it was to stay open for me.

“Pardon me, mademoiselle.” I said, touching her arm and sneaking in yet another hide out I carved out myself. The column that was supporting this box was empty, gilded in gold and covered with a thick maroon curtain. There was a secret door that you pressed to open it. I snuck inside to look at the count sitting with his older brother, hating the young man. He was barely a man as Christine was barely a woman, 25 years of age, yet looked 21, courting after my Christine, who had just turned 22. It took all of me not to reach out and strangle him. But I had something better in mind.

“You're sitting in my box!” I called out angrily, subtle enough to not disturb the show, as Carlotta and her fíance danced around the stage, playing Countess and Count, but loud enough to catch the attention of the box next to them and look over with an annoyed expression for being rude.

Both Raoul and his brother Philip grew as white as ghosts—haha! Isn’t that funny? That they should pale like the ghost I was? They spun around, demanded who was there, as they tore the curtain open only to see a bare column. With absolutely no room for hiding a body. The box next over shushed them and told them off for being rude, but Raoul and Philip called Madeleine to the box. I snuck away as she stepped in, holding the door close as they complained to her, and she acted innocent pretending to hear no noise, while the people of Box 3 besides them, came out to complain about the noise that Raoul and Philip were making.

Poor Madeleine. But she could handle it. And I would share some of my bonus with her for always helping out and being by my side. She didn’t like to take money from me, but I’ve seen how the ballet girls get paid and it was a pathetic amount. Just enough to keep you crawling back, but not enough to make a fair living out of it.

Quickly, I hurried back up, just in time for the best part.

Carlotta was singing proudly, strutting when suddenly, all that came out of her mouth was a loud, CROAK!!!