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Three Spirits	By : BellaLaura Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Crossovers Views: 3412 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, Halloween, or A Christmas Carol. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter 3

My eyes fail me once again, the fragile candle flame having perished on my return journey from...well wherever I have been. I twist around in the darkness in an effort to discover the location of the presence in my chamber.

“Calm yourself child.”

The voice is beside my bed now, familiar and soothing. Another lone taper ignites and I find myself meeting the cool, stern gaze of my former ballet mistress.

A sigh of blessed relief escapes me. “Oh Madame...I am so relieved to see you. The horrid dreams I have had...”

It suddenly dawns on me to wonder how she has managaed to appear here, in my room. Considering she has not (to the extent of my knowledge) ever visited this residence, it seems even more odd that she would choose to do so in the middle of the night. I rack my wretched mind in an attempt to glean some explanation, coming up empty once more.

“Oh God!” The horrifying thought, the only possible reason for her presence here at this moment flashes into my thoughts. “You’re dead? Wh...wh...what has happened?”

I have had no news of the Opera or my friends who lived in its employ since we left that fateful night. But surely I would have been told if something had happened....wouldn’t I?

“Were you hurt? Ill? Madame I do not understand!”

She sits beside me and I feel the weight of desperate worry lift off my shoulders as the bed sinks underneath her. She is real...alive...well. And I am sane.

“No child you are not mad, nor am I mortally injured in any way. But I am here for a most important reason.”

“How did you get in here?” I interrupt. “ I heard no one enter, the house is secured as well as any bank. Have you been here all evening? Why...”

She takes my shoulders in her iron grasp and tightening her grip upon me to silence my questioning tirade. “Hush and I shall explain everything. Understood?”

Her stern gaze had never failed to cower me and now in combination with her physical actions I silence immediately.

“Now... the reason I am here Christine, is for you to become aware of what is going on in this time, right now in this home. Things you have either chosen to ignore or been kept ignorant of will affect you, as well as those you care about."

Her hand moves to my chin, forcing my eyes to stay with her own. "Christine...it is time to know the truth.”

“Truth?” I seem to have a developed a penchant for echoing all things said to me this evening. Perhaps it is a habit developed from months of simply repeating ‘Yes dear’ to all inquiries and comments made to me. Madame simply regards me with the same patience she has shown to her wayward charge these many years.

“Christine, surely you know that things are not always as they seem.”

Now this is the most enormous understatement I have ever heard, and I grit my teeth in ill concealed frustration. “Indeed....most things are far from what they appear to be. Angels who are murderers, friends who are enemies, lies and deceit in the place of truth. Yes things are rarely as they seem. As a matter of fact I am still pondering exactly how you manage to be here at this time of night.”

She smiles at me, an odd thing I have rarely observed upon her stern countenance. “Well I thought your spine had wilted away with the rest of you. It is good to see a bit of fire in you...you will need it sooner than you think my dear.”

She stands, stretching as though to loosen a stiff muscle. “As for the manner of my appearance here at this time of night....” Her hand reaches out, her familiar black cane appearing in a dazzling flash of light. “Some things are perhaps better left unexplained.”

She reaches for me, and a sudden rush of nervousness comes over me, that perhaps this is not the woman I had grown up with, who for all practical purposes was my mother. I draw away but she is swift, tenacious as her thin hand grabs my own. “It is time to go...”

“I don’t want to...”

“Christine.” Her eyes soften even as her grip remains strong upon me. “I have promised that I would do this, and I cannot fail.”

It is upon my lips to ask to whom has this insane promise been made to (Of course who am I to label anything insane at this point in time?) But before I have any opportunity to voice my question, my hand is placed upon the cold metallic top of her cane.

Cold? How could I think that it is cold? A burn rushes from the cane, spreading like lightning up my arm and across my chest. By the time it completes its fiery journey through my body, I am left upon my knees in a breathless and stunned, yet strangely painless heap upon the floor. But this is not the floor of my room.

“Come ma petite....” How she has appeared beside me is not a line of thinking I feel worthy of pondering at the moment, but I reach for her hand again and am easily pulled to stand. “I hope this does not take to long.”

Before I have the opportunity to question my current guide about her definition of truth (For who knows if a ghost’s version may differ from my own?) another voice interjects.

“Are you quite sure you wish to go through with this?”

I glance around the dim chamber, suddenly recognizing it as the drawing room of the de Chagney residence. This is strange, and completely in opposition to the means by which Madame and I have just traveled, for surely if we are not in some otherworldly form then we could simply have taken the stairs.

Then a familiar silhoutte crosses to the table, picking up the near empty decanter of brandy before answering. “Phillipe it is not as if there is much choice in the matter.”

“There’s always a choice. Call the whole damned affair off.”

I relax as I realize this is no surprise. Raoul’s family has been against this engagement from the start. Even dressed in my nightclothes, I am fully prepared to finally give Phillipe a piece of my mind. I walk closer to the marble hearth, its radiant warmth echoing the heat of the rising temper within me.

“How very kind of you dear broth...” My words, ignored from the outset by both men, now fade into a whimper as my fiance passes through me as he returns to his chair. The sensation of a corporeal form passing through one as evidently invisible as myself has no truly adequate description- suffice to say I am more than a little unsettled.

Madame glances at me as she moves, now standing behind Raoul’s armchair. The occupants of the room are frozen in place with a wave of her thin hand as I stare in disbelief, wondering if I am visited by a spirit or a sorceress.

“The explanation your father gave you holds true here as well Christine. Though you may inhabit this house in a physical form, for now you can neither be seen nor heard. Your purpose is to listen.”

“Listen to what?” I answer in exasperation. “I know what they think about me....I have heard every snide little version. It’s quite an easy feat to listen in when every servant in the household discusses what the Dowager has just said about a chorus girl becoming the next Viscountess.”

Many times I had not even needed to try and conceal my presence. The staff of the de Chagney household considered me an intruder, a usurper who was actually lower than their own station. Therefore the only reasoning left was to gossip, regardless of my presence or absence.

“I am not referring to servants’ gossip Christine, nor the remarks of a spoiled and petulant Countess.” She looks at the man still completely frozen in his chair. “What does he think?”

My mouth opens...then closes as I stare at this inanimate fiance of mine. He looks so much the same man as he did that night upon the roof of the opera....doesn’t he? Perhaps a few evidences of that time remain, the lingering tightness around his mouth, the shadows under his eyes...although I am more sure those can be attributed to the oddity of being frozen in place. Hell...even the events of a busy day can make a person look so...so...well surely nothing else has changed.

“Fine.” Meeting Madame’s eyes with what I hope is a determined gaze, I continue. “I am sure...I already know, but if it makes this...this...visitation end faster then I am more than willing to hear whatever it is so important.”

She smiled, a sad smile really, and then with another wave of her hand the room is once again filled with a most serious conversation.

“I can’t Phillipe...not now.”

“And why the hell not?” His brother takes an indecently large gulp of brandy before continuing. “Better now than tomorrow after all vows are said and done.”

There is an uncomfortable silence as I watch a number of tortured expressions cross Raoul’s face.

“She’s different, Phillipe.” His eyes are hollow as he meets his brother’s curious gaze. “Empty....a shell. I thought getting her away from the opera would help...but.”

“What?” His brother’s concern is obvious.

“I can’t help wondering...every time I look at Christine I see her kissing that...that thing. I could have killed him...should have...but I stopped because of her. Her begging for his life. Yet...“

He stands and starts a restless pace across the polished floors. “So why in God’s name did she not simply do the same when the tables were turned? She didn’t beg or plead for my life....”

Raoul’s words increase with the faster tempo of his steps. “ And one kiss, an understandable distraction perhaps....but Phillipe all I can see, all that repeats in my mind is that she kissed him not once, not briefly...but as if her life would end if she stopped.”

“So why continue with this mon frere? Surely such doubts are not the way to start a marriage?”

“As if you would care, so long as I did not marry a chorus girl.”

My eyes widen as Phillipe jumps up and grabs his younger brother by the collar. “Contrary to what you believe, you besotted fool, I do care about your happiness. And this obviously isn’t happiness.”

“Happiness?” Raoul shrugs as his brother releases his collar. “Who the hell knows what happiness is anymore?”

You do a fair job of acting happy my dear fiancee.

“Just for once...will you explain this ridiculous ...outrageous mess to me? I have heard bits and pieces, the rumors...”

“And of course those are less than flattering to the family name...” Raoul snaps as he brings his glass to his lips again.

“Fils de putin!” Phillipe’s fist makes brutal contact with Raoul’s jaw, the force of the unexpected blow sending the snifter into the fire. The flash of alcohol enhanced flames startles them both enough to prevent any further punches, and my usually elegant and composed fiance sinks to the floor in a dejected heap.

“Forgive me brother..” Raoul absently rubs his jaw. “It’s just...this was not supposed to turn out this way.’

“Well then explain to me...what was supposed to happen?”

I do not know if I can adequately explain what I expect to hear from his lips, but I am certainly unprepared for the next six words.

“I never intended to marry her.”

No....

“Honestly Phillipe, surely you believe me.”

I did believe you....

“I had not seen her since we were children... for God’s sake it’s not as if I had thought of her every day...hell until the gala I didn’t even know she was at the Opera!”

I look at the ring upon my left hand and am filled with a sudden urge to grab one of the ornamental daggers from the wall....

“I thought to say hello after the gala performance, and yes Phillipe, I admit when I saw her in the dressing room...”

“You were overwhelmed with love?” Phillipe asks sardonically.

“No of course not...I am not nor I have ever been overwhelmed by love!”

All these months...the promises, endearments...declarations....nothing.

“So why? How the hell did you get into this mess?”

Raoul pauses, struggling. Whether it is a struggle to find the right words (are there truly any right words in such a situation?) or to simply and finally dare admit aloud the horrid truth, I am unsure. But as his emotions are plainly readable upon his face, I realize that no matter what words are chosen, each one will be another dagger into this brutally beaten heart of mine.

"I don't know," Raoul looks at his elder brother imploringly. "It's God's truth Phillipe. I didn't...I thought dinner and maybe- well hell you know how the stage girls are....I thought..."

"To take a mistress?'

"Well, not even anything permanent. You know as well as I that the plans were to leave for Italy with Uncle Laurent and Charles in June."

First mention I have heard of Italy...what else has been so conveniently withheld dear fiance?

"So you planned to fuck a childhood acquaintance because...."

"Well look at her for Christ's sake! I mean...besides that...she's an orphan and surely she could have used some extra income."

Oh mon Dieu...

“Well she’ll certainly have the extra income now. I still don’t see how you got from potential bed partner to fiancee.”

Raoul jumps up from the floor, crossing to the table and takes a most ungentlemanly gulp directly from the brandy decanter.

“When I came back to her room that night, to escort her to dinner...the door was locked. I could hear voices, talking, singing, and then ...nothing. I know what it was now-that damnable thing had a secret passage...but there was no force. She left willingly.”

“So why bother?”

“Damn Phillipe- maybe because I do care about her welfare...and there was so much drama going on...all the mess with who was singing and who wasn’t, salary demands from a damn Ghost...I mean really- I thought as Patrons we just gave the damn fools some money to produce a two hour screech fest every so often.”

Screech fest??? It is my art...my love....

“And for the new diva to have disappeared after last being seen with the new patron?”

“Well you are the one always bringing up the family’s reputation...” It is Raoul’s turn to be sarcastic.

“And the current situation is such an improvement compared to that.” Phillipe’s half cocked eyebrow is nearly identical in expression to his younger brother’s as he contiinues. “So have you fucked her yet or not? Because, dear brother if the answer to that is no....then cut your losses and call this farce of an engagement off now.”

My eyes clench shut as hands cover my ears, willing this ghastly conversation to evaporate from my hearing.

“Please ...please” I implore my supernatural companion, refusing to visually acknowledge her. “Take me back...away from this...this...”

“This is the truth Christine.”

And they are frozen again.

“This is what has been said, whispered and discussed in the same house of a family you plan to bind yourself to”

“No...Raoul is ...is different.”

“Different from what child?” Madame comes and puts her arms around me, a comforting embrace, truly...so tempting to let loose and cry out my hurt and hate at this moment. But I cannot be weak, have I not been that far too much already? “He is a man, one of the aristocracy, not the child you ran and played with. Whatever you may have thought...”

“Then why? Why would he tell me one thing, words of love and affection and wanting to marry me...he isn’t lying to me...he is lying to Phillipe. Anything to get his brother to stop bothering him about us!”

Her hand pats my back gently. “Dear child, you were sheltered to much....my fault perhaps, you had enough trauma losing both parents...so I thought. But Christine why are you trying to convince me of Raoul’s motives?”

“Why are you trying to fool me into thinking otherwise?”

“Very well.” She steps away from me and the conversation resumes.

“I tried damage control, brother. Keeping the engagement a secret while pretending I did not want to keep it secret was fairly easy...she is not... well I mean dancers as a rule are not the most intelligent of girls. But then I acquiesed to attending that damn masquerade.”

“Yes indeed Raoul, I imagine that having another man rip your engagement ring from the bosom of your intended is one way to announce it all to the world.”

“Well I could have called it off quietly otherwise. Left a note and left for Italy...I mean surely she can not be that infatuated with me. We hadn’t seen one another for ten years, Phillipe, and I can say I doubt she spent that time thinking about me, especially with that thing living there.”

“And what about this thing? Does she speak of it...have you asked her?”

“Asked her what?”

“What the relationship was of course. I mean bad enough that you want to bring a common dancer into the family, but if the bitch has already been compromised” Phillipe gave his brother a shrug. “By someone other than you dear brother....it really is grounds for me to force you to cancel this wedding.”

“No she’s not.” Raoul meets his brother’s gaze. “She says she hadn’t...didn’t and I believe her.”

“Yet she kissed it , and I am quoting you here brother, as if her life would end.”

“I know, but the way that thing acted....as surprised as I. Surely if something else had happened that would not have been it’s reaction.”

It? Thing? My heart constricts as they talk of you in such a way. Why are they talking about you at all? Why bring up the past to make excuses for the future?

“Maybe...maybe not.” Phillipe sighs in defeat. “It is your life to ruin little brother. You know where I stand.”

“Indeed.”

They sip their brandy quietly now as I turn to Madame. “You...you have made this up.”

“May your next visitor have more luck convincing you Christine. I have only shown you what was already taking place.”

“And for what? What good does this do?” I wipe the traitorous tear off of my cheek. “I am to marry this man tomorrow and you want to convince me that I am ruining his life. He asked me! I didn’t beg him to rescue me...”

Did I?

“He loves me, as I do him.”

Christine I love you...I clutch my head as the words invade my soul.

“It is not Raoul’s voice you hear is it, child?”

“What does it matter now?” I do not think to question how she knows that it is your plea, your last words running through my mind.

“It always matters.”

“Not this time...I will wed tomorrow. And then...spend the rest of my days trying to forget.”

"And you will fail." With that she disappears, the room falling from beneath my feet and I land, blinded by the light.

TBC
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Three Spirits