Dark Side of the Looking Glass: Chapter 3

Erik reached into the front pocket of his long red jacket and pulled out the intricately engraved silver and gold pocket watch given to him as a gift by the King of Persia. A grim smiled crossed his lips at his dark memories as serving as the Angel of Death. How ironic that now was the time to take up the role as the Angel of Music.

He replaced the pocket watch in his pants and gave the musical score he had chosen a final look before closing the casing over the ivory keys of the grand piano that had occupied his afternoon. A quick glance across the room towards his neglected organ made him pause. Tenderly he brushed his fingers over the delicate wood work of his beloved instrument. The brass pipes glittered under the polished finish that he painstakingly upheld. Perhaps after his lesson with Christine he would spend some time dedicated to his own opera.

He picked up the cloak that was lying across the back of his royal throne he had placed in the center of his music room and swung it upon his shoulders. In a flash of black, he was gone.

As he walked gracefully along the underground tunnels that he had painstakingly created himself he allowed a moment of pride to enter his heart. He had so little to be thankful for in his cursed life. His vast intelligence and genius might have led to absolute insanity if it were not for his talent in crafting masonry as well as creating music. He may have been born with the face of a devil, but his voice was heavenly, no one could deny that.

Perhaps if he had been blessed with beauty of outer appearance he would be a performer himself. Maybe through the fragile hearted woman-child Christine, he could live that small fantasy through her. That prospect had merit and the corner of his lip curled up in a smirk.

The faint smirk disappeared as the gloom of his personal hell consumed him. He rowed his gondola across the underground river with his sinewy muscles straining under the effort. It seemed an eternity before he reached the shore on the other side. Purposely he climbed the stairs that would lead to the looking glass in Christine's dressing room.

An unexpected sight met his eyes when he saw that his charge was sleeping peacefully upon the small divan in her room. Her long dark hair spread out about her in a silky mass that made his fingers itch to touch it. But that was forbidden, he had resigned himself never to experience any of the pleasures of the flesh.

"Christine," he sang out in a voice that would cause the angels to cry. The woman stirred in her sleep, a content smile forming on her lips. "Christine, awaken for your Angel of Music," his magnificent voice resonated.

The young soprano's dark eyes fluttered open and she blinked as she lifted her head to the request. "Angel, you have come to me," she whispered dreamily. She moved to her knees and faced the mirror, the place she felt most drawn. "Angel what will you have me do?"

"My child you can not sing on your knees," Erik admonished, using his most coaxing tone, that caused all inhibitions to flee any whom heard his words. He was well aware of the hypnotic effect his voice had.

"Forgive me maestro," Christine implored scrambling to her feet quickly. "What shall we begin with?"

"Let us begin with some simple scales, I wish to enhance the strength of your range." Erik began. Christine nodded her head and began to sing the warming up scales that all singers warmed up with to sharpen their vocal range. "No, no," Erik stopped her. "You must sing with your heart, put your soul into your voice. Use your diaphragm, but I don't want you to simply push with your gut."

Christine began again from the top, but once again irritated Erik with her weak sound. "No, child, you are not singing with your heart."

"Forgive me maestro, but how am I to sing from my heart when what I sing has no meaning?" Christine questioned, tears of frustration coming to her eyes at already disappointing her Angel of Music within the first half hour.

"Do not cry child," Erik soothed softly. "Perhaps you are right; it is hard to sing from the heart when the words have no meaning. Sing with me, let our voices join and feed meaning into these empty vowels."

That is when something unexpected happened. When Erik and Christine combined their voices the intonations and harmonies created the most perfect blend that either had heard. Erik's heart pounded in his chest in excitement at this added bonus. Perhaps his impromptu fabrication of the truth was destiny. In his abysmal existence he deserved a surprise of such beauty.

After concluding the warmup scales, Christine raised her hand to her chest. "Angel of Music, our voices," she whispered, face flushed of color as she found herself breathless trying to keep up a strength in her voice to match that of the Angel.

"My child, this is only the beginning," Erik swallowed past the lump growing in his throat. "I will shape your voice to blend with mine so flawlessly that nothing could cut us asunder," he vowed.

"Angel," Christine's face grew red in a blush of humility as she dipped her chin towards her chest. "You honor me with such praise, surely I am unworthy."

"Sing with your heart and you will always be worthy child," Erik told her solemnly. He wiped the back of his hand over this forehead. He had built up a sweat during their strange duet. "Shall we try something with words this time?"

Christine looked towards the mirror expectantly. "Yes Angel, what shall we sing?"

Erik felt an unfamiliar feeling that might have been described as joy at her honest enthusiasm. "We shall sing from the first act of La Traviata."

"La Traviata?" Christine echoed in awe, curious about the story.

"Yes, it is about the love between the Courtesan Violetta and the nobleman's son Alfredo," Erik explained as he began to teach her the words one line at a time, complete with inflections. "The language is Italian, but knowing the exact words meaning is not nearly as important as understanding the passion behind them." After he was satisfied with the first stanza he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Now, together we shall sing the first stanza. I shall follow your lead," he instructed waiting for her to begin.

That foreign feeling of joy came once more to him as their voices blended together in the perfect balance of Yin and Yang creating much more than a beautiful piece of music. Erik had discovered the reason for his tortured existence.

It was to meet Christine and share in the magnificence of their voices merging in heavenly accord. It was as if his whole life; Erik had been incomplete, searching for the other half of his soul. While his voice fused with Christine's he felt as if he had found that missing half.

When Erik left Christine many hours later that night he was in a better mood than he could remember ever experiencing before. A quick glance towards his pocket watch showed there remained a few hours until sunrise. A trip to the streets above seemed called for. A meeting with his contact to acquire more scores might be a good idea.

oooooOOOOOoooooOOOOOooooo

"Christine, what are you humming?" Meg asked when whatever lovely tune her dear friend had been pre-occupied with became stuck in her head. "I'd like to know whatever tune is stuck in my head."

Christine blinked at her friend. "I didn't realize I was humming," she sighed dreamily as she took Meg's hands into her own. "It is such a tragic opera. I was humming a song from La Traviata in the first act. It is about two lovers who due to society and misunderstandings become torn asunder."

Meg frowned, "Well that sounds- depressing," she decided.

"Oh it is, but their love was so sweet. If only society hadn't gotten in the way and ruined something so pure," Christine sighed once more as she released Meg's hands and finished folding up the costumes that the two women had been assigned to mind that morning.

"But Christine, where did you hear about that opera?" Meg continued to interrogate. Her friend was acting very strange for the past day or two. For some unexplained reason the circles under her eyes disappeared and she seemed to have a glow about her. If she didn't know any better she would think the dark haired country girl had a secret lover, but Christine was too innocent to pull off such a thing.

"Are you coming?" Christine called, waiting for Meg with her arms full of folded dresses. Meg shook her head and looked up at Christine blinking causing Christine to giggle. "And you thought I was the one having trouble focusing."

"Hush now," Meg growled good-naturedly as she tossed a scarf at Christine's head.

Up above, hidden within the walls, stood the Phantom of the Opera listening to their conversation with keen interest. He was angry that Christine should be doing costume work while her talent was wasted and not shared with the public. He cringed at the memory of the atrocious sound of the current Prima Donna, Carlotta that he over heard on his way to track down his pupil.

For now, he would let this slide, but soon his Angel would be ready to woo the audiences of Paris with her talent. He would see to it that she was displayed to the populace as the shining star that she was. And he would be watching from Box Five, basking in his triumph.

TBC

A/N: Your feedback is appreciated! I just bought the new soundtrack and already I've worn a hole in the cd from listening to it so many times!