The Phantom's Daughter

Chapter Eleven

I don’t remember ever being so warm and comfortable in my entire life, or so safe for that matter, which was ironic considering that I had no idea where I was.

Suddenly realizing that I was alive and not where I should have been (on the shores of the underground lake) I shot up from the bed I was laying in.

I was in a large, most comfortable bed, with clean white sheets and crimson red duvet and black blankets for extra warmth. The bed had a canopy, the posts a strong dark brown wood with engravings in them. The room itself was simple; there was a fireplace off on the wall (where the chimney went, who knew) that had a crackling fire, built in shelves on wall directly in front of me along with a dresser besides it, the doorway diagonal of me and a table beside me with an oil lamp and a plate of bread and cheese. The walls were solid stone, all the way up to the ceiling, like the person who built this had utilized the structure of the basement of Opera while also creating extra support systems that were the walls.

Outside there was also light and soft music being played.

I settled back into bed trying to think of my next move. I hated how scared I felt….none of this felt right. Who would rescue me and bring me here? And clean me up, bandaging my leg. My heart started racing as I threw back the covers. I was clean and in a nightshirt. It felt invasive….someone had undressed me and washed me and taken care of me while I was passed out or asleep and it didn’t feel good to not know what was going on.

I sat there, breathing deep, letting myself cry a little until I felt calmer. I looked at the plate of food, debating whether to eat it or not. I was so hungry my stomach felt like it was in knots that finally I couldn’t help but gobble it down. The cheese was creamy and super good, the bread fresh and there was a glass of water to go with it. I prayed someone didn’t put a drug in it and as soon as I swallowed, I hopped out of bed, tore off the night shirt and changed back into my clothes that were dry by the fire. My shoulder bag was there too along with a brand new pair of shoes that fit my feet perfectly.

Instead of feeling nice about this and touched that someone took the time to take care of me, I felt sick to my stomach. No one was nice for no reason. This was a set up, and as soon as I was clear of the basement, I’d be clear of this Opera House. I’ll hide in the streets of France until Sweet Demon can be ridden and take him with me and we'll head to England.

Taking a deep breath and gathering my courage, I walked out of the room. It was another room…bigger and open, with a large Persian rug in the middle of it, some chairs and a table over the right of me and to the left hugging the walls, a large organ, a large table full of what looked like drawings, painting, and little paper models, and closest to me a beautiful piano with a small table sitting perpendicular to it to act as a desk.

There at the piano, writing some notes on the desk as his other hand was playing with a note was a man dressed in black, donned in a large black cape with a red velvet lining in it and a high collar and a white mask covering the top half of his face, just stopping almost at the edge of his nose, which was either deformed or broken from a fight.

He was looking at me in a curious way as if trying to figure me out….was he brought here too? He had thick messy jet black hair and dull green eyes. We stood facing each other, staring for what seemed like forever, me trying to figure out my next move and how to get out of here.

Finally the masked man spoke. “It’s good to see you’re awake. You were basically dead when I picked you up last night. Truly you are a wonder child surviving all those traps.”

“Your traps…..? Are you……?” Something was familiar about him but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. His mask shifted slightly as he must have c****d an eyebrow and titled his head ever so slightly.

“Come now, you must have heard about the Opera Ghost that haunts the famous Opera Populare,” he said. “I am he! I own this Opera House.”

“Oh. You’re the Phantom of the Opera.” I replied. Guess that goes with my plans for being phantomess. My response was casual, even disinterest, but truly I was frightened. What kind of man must he be like if he set all those traps this deep in the basement? Even worse, what must be down here if he felt the need to set all those traps?

“Why do you wear the mask? Are you going to hurt me? Please just let me go, I’m just an orphan girl, no one pays attention to an orphan….believe me.”

“Easy, easy, I’ve got no intention of hurting you.” He pointed to his face. “Mark of Cain; can’t go anywhere without the reminder. I am doomed to wander aimlessly on the earth, but I grew tired of that and made my home down here.” he gestured around him. “Welcome to my abode, child! I hope your bed and breakfast was of satisfaction. I thought it a fitting reward for surviving my traps.”

“W-what?”

“Oh those traps you fell into are mine.”

“What the hell is down here that you would need traps for? We’re five levels underground.”

“Too many curious minds letting the body wander.” I must have foolishly revealed the worry on my face, for he put his hands up. “No need to worry though, I’ve never harmed a child, nor have any intention to. You’ve rather intrigued me if I may be honest. Such a small, young thing like you surviving those traps that were designed to kill an adult. Like I said, the bed and meal can be seen like a..….reward for your endurance and survival.”

I stepped back, my face burning. “So you’re the one who washed and dressed me! I feel invaded!”

“Oh, no, I didn’t wash you, child. The lake down here is rather clean…you washed yourself taking that swim. I simply put you in some dry clothes.” he stated.

“Well if you please, good….phantom monsieur…I’d like to go now…I’m terribly sorry for my intrusion. I didn’t think there was a ghost…every place has their ghost story and I thought you were just one of them.” I said. My leg started burning and before I could stop it, it gave out a little. I corrected my stand immediately, but of course he saw. Now he’s seen that I was injured…what was his intention with me?

He looked at me as if trying to figure me out before nodding. “Of course! My boat is outside on the lake, I’d be happy to take you back. I hope your stay was comfortable enough…? It’s not often I entertain guests.”

I nodded vigorously and looked out the doorway he was pointing to. I could make out the features of the lake. I took a shaking step forward to get a better view of it. My mind raced, trying to figure out how I was going to do this. I looked in the room beside me; it was a room similar to mine, with its fixings, except instead of a bed, there was an open coffin.

“That’s my bedroom.” I jumped as the Opera Ghost spoke. I looked back at him. “Come, little mademoiselle, I’ll take you to my boat.” he stood up and with a half bow, extended his arm towards the exit of the room. I made a half step towards it, watching his every move, and he studying mine. Finally he strode the large doorway and stood there, waiting for me. I followed him and stood on the other side—it was a very large doorway, big enough for a horse carriage to fit comfortably through. There on the edge of the lake, lay a boat like he said.

The Opera Ghost hopped in the boat. “Come along mademoiselle! Nothing to fear!” he held out his arm to help me in. I stood on the edge, trying to figure out a way in the boat without his hand. He stood there patiently. Finally I took it and sat down, as he guided the boat back and through the gate, over the underground lake.

We rode in silence for most of the way there, I kept a close eye on him, wondering what he was going to do to me.

“May I ask for your origin? Surviving child of the Phantom’s traps?”

“What?”

“Name? Anything?”

“I was born in England”

“Ahh, do you speak any English?”

“No…my parents are English…at least I think. I don’t know.”

“It’s a tragedy to not know, and I’m sorry for what happened to them.”

“What???”

He looked at me. “Well something must have happened to them to lead you to be an orphan. And this country suffered a plague not that long ago…”

“They abandon me. They deserve no pity.” I spat out. I hated those two with all my heart. I still vividly remember the day they left me at that orphanage…it was the first and last recollection I had of my mother. Young, fair, and beautiful, with light auburn hair all done up in a bun underneath her hat. Little me, holding her hand as we walked the beautiful countryside to that grand house. Father waiting back with the wagon. Mother standing on the steps, ringing the bell and then telling me to stay put. Then she just….walked off like that…towards father. Both of them looking like they’d been relieved of a burden. I stood on that front step of the orphanage screaming for my mother to come back, sobbing by the time the maid came out to collect me, seeing my parents drive off. Most children abandon are done so because their parents have no means of providing for them or had died. But my parents were finely dressed and didn’t lack any means, they were healthy, their clothes fine, and even the horse was plump from good care. The mistress of the orphanage and Ms. Eleanor later would make sure to remind me of that when they wanted to drive the point home of how stupid and useless I was and what a waste of space I was to them and an inconvenience.

Of course I didn’t reveal any of this to this Phantom, but he looked disturbed as if he could read between the lines of what I did say. It was like it hurt him personally. “Well then, I am very sorry for you, child.”

I just had to pretend like I was being cooperative until I could see what kind of horrid things he would do to me and then make my escape. I got pretty lucky in the lake, surely I could get lucky again assuming he’d throw me in some dark underground prison.

But the Opera Ghost never did. We landed the boat, and he guided me on land and led me up a safe path.

“Don’t you want to blindfold me so I can’t find my way back? I’m very clever you know…one has to be, taking care of herself for so long.” I finally said. I couldn't stand not knowing. At least we were going up….that had to be something.

He looked back at me. “I saw the way you were itching to run from me, why would there be any reason for you returning?”

And amazingly, he led me all the way back up. Through a dark hallway, at the end a door, which he had to push his shoulder against. He held it open for me. “Your freedom, little mademoiselle. Good luck out there. The new managers are idiots.”

I stared at him in wonder. “You’re just letting me go???”

“You’re not used to this, are you?” he asked.

“You can’t fool me, I know you're after something.” I told him. “And whatever it is you want, I don’t have it! I’m just an orphan.”

“You’re very right, you don’t have what I want. The only thing I want in this world is for my music to be heard, and the heart of the woman I love dearly. And yet I have nothing to offer her except for my music.”

I stood there waiting for him to disappear. I wasn’t stupid. I wouldn’t be a fox released from the bag only to be hunted again. But before he did, he raised a gloved finger in the air and said, “wait a moment.” reaching in his inner pocket, he pulled out a bag that jingled with a handful of coins. Handing me, he told me that was to be his little bird, and kept him updated on the information that happened around the Opera. “It’s a job, so take it seriously. Just ask around to find out what I do to those who don’t take their jobs seriously here.”

With that he shut the door and left. I was left in an old storage unit for stage prompts. The door was made in such a way that it hid behind a set of a musical long forgotten and blended into the wall, tucked and hidden away, just like the Opera Ghost himself.

I was free. He had just let me go. The whole thing felt like a dream and already I was missing the warm bed. But it was also late morning, and I was expected down at the stables. Scampering through, I heard voices on the stage arguing. Peeking through from behind the curtain, it looked like they were getting ready for their next play. The diva Carlotta, in her fine dresses and furs, stood there proudly, sneering and jabbing a gloved hand at two greying-haired managers, looking like scolded children who didn’t understand their crime. Those must be the two new managers he was talking about. The cast was milling about, some looking invested as Carlotta scolded and shrieked, some looked bored, and there standing by Madame Giry (whom I now had to avoid on the account of what I did to Jammes) stood a beautiful, shy looking young women, with big brown eyes and curly brown hair. She stood quiet and demur, as Carlotta pointed an accusing finger towards her and back at the managers yelling about something.

I saw this as my opportunity to run. As best I could with my injured leg, I scurried off, but someone saw me and called out.

“Grab her!”

I screamed and thrashed as Joseph Buquett grabbed me and carried me on stage.

Madame Giry looked murderous as she strode over to me. “You have a lot of explaining to do for what you did to Jammes. She will no longer be able to dance!”

“Good!” I yelled. Jammes’ mother came over and slapped me.

“Now look here!” one of the managers declared, raising a hand. “You’ll be thrown in jail! You're a little devil child! We’ll not stand for criminals in this Opera House!”

“No!” the young woman spoke up. I suddenly remembered her name…it was the woman Madame Giry referred to the managers who could sing in Carlotta’s place. That must be why she’s yelling…the diva was angry they had replaced her.

“HA!” Carlotta called her. “Hear that little toad speak! She think that her mysterious music teacher give her a chance to perform and now she could commanda the stage!”

I gasped. “She’s the one he was talking about.”

“He, you say? You mean the Opera Ghost?” Joseph Buquett heard my whisper.

“Uh?” he roughly swung me around and brought his face close. I cringed back and looked to Madame Giry for help. But she looked at me in awe and asked in a low voice if I’ve seen the Opera Ghost.

“What? No!” I shot back.

“She lies! You’ve seen him, haven’t you? Tell us what you know!” Joseph demanded. I smelled ale on his breath…that had to be the cause of his accusations. I revealed nothing to hint I knew anything about the masked man.

“I know nothing!” I hollered back at him. He slapped me again.

“Stop!” Christine, Mame Giry, and her daughter Meg said in unison. “Get away from her, she’s been through enough!” commanded Meg, shoving him back with greater strength than I would have imagined.

“Y-Yes, go to your post!” the other manager tried to sound authoritative. Wow, he was right, these are i***t managers.

Madeleine Giry pointed to me. “Our conversation still is not through…you did a serious wrong pushing Jammes off that stage. You will be punished for it.”

“I’ll have you whipped!” shrieked Jammes’ mother.

“Joseph Buquett says that she knows something about the Opera Ghost, tell us what you know little girl!” pushed through Carlotta, shaking me.

“Never!” I protested before realizing my mistake. “ I know nothing!” I tried to correct it.

“Here,” Christine gently took my arms and I squirmed away. Everyone today had the mind to grab me and I was very close to screaming. “Please…if you know something, even where you saw him, you must tell us. It’s important that they know.” she said gently.

“Oh God in Heaven, you’re all obsessed!” cried one of the managers.

“Mr. Firmin, there is indeed an Opera Ghost.” Meg told him.

“A superstition! Every place has one, it’s for publicity!” cried the other.

“No, Monsieur Andres, my daughter is right.” Madeleine Giry corrected. “But it is wise to keep a still tongue.”

“NO!” screamed Carlotta. “I demand justice! I am being sabotaged, for three years this has been going on!”

“My darling, just one thing, tell us the truth.” Christine said gently. “One little thing.”

“One thing?”

“One thing. Any little thing.”

I stared at her beautiful brown eyes and her soft face. “Alright, I’ll tell you something. Joseph Buquett is right, I know something about the Phantom of the Opera.” Everyone gasped and leaned in close. Apparently the managers weren’t the only idiots in this Opera. Giving them all a suspenseful moment, I finally took in a dramatic sigh and spoke. “He is indeed a phantom, who indeed haunts the Opera.”

Carlotta screamed in rage and quick as the flick of a whip, I jerked out of Christine’s arms, kicked Jammes’ mother in the shins when she made a grab for me and sprinted off the stage, ignoring the pain in my leg. I looked back to see a few wanted to make after me, the managers throwing hands in confusion, but Madeleine staring at me with a nod….as if it was a good thing I didn’t betray the Phantom’s whereabouts? Was she in on this?

You are not my first angry child. By heavens, she was in on it!

As I made my way to the stables, a closet door that I had passed, opened. A pair of hands shot out and grabbed me…pulling me into the darkness.