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The Phantom's Curse	By : Anomaly9 Category: 1 through F > 10,000 BC Views: 1077 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-In Dreams
- 1
The walls of the dark, mist shrouded room seemed to stretch into eternity. The only illumination came from a few candles that oozed wax onto the floor below, creating warm puddles at her feet. The walls were painted a deep shade of red onto which the flickering candles cast eerie shadows. There was no furniture, save for an elaborately gilded mirror that reached up to the impossibly high ceiling. In it, Christine could only stare at her ghostly reflection. She didn't dare move.
Then, the sound of footsteps echoed in the emptiness. Instantly, Christine's heart began to race, though not from fear like she knew it should. No, this was something unfamiliar, some alien feeling that coursed through her veins, delicious and toxic. Her heart beat faster as the footsteps drew closer...and stopped. Then, like an apparition, he appeared in the mirror. His figure was tall and dark, clothed in a long, black cape. Christine took in his powerful form as something beyond her control compelled her to sink back against his broad chest. With a rueful smile, she rolled her head upward to look into his face. She never could make out his appearance clearly, his only discerning feature being a stark, white mask covering the left side of his face.
Suddenly, she felt his hands on her. Warm and rough, they glided up either side of her neck to her jaw, then back down to rest at her collarbones. Christine closed her eyes at the sensation. His fingers traced a path across her collarbones to the lace of her nightgown. Slowly, he slipped the fabric from her shoulders, sliding it down her arms and over her breasts. Christine's head rolled back against him, her lips parting. she felt his hand on her breast, caressing it. The action elicited a moan from her lips.
She felt him all around her, as if his very essence seeped inside of her, staining her soul with its brilliance.
His hand slid from her breast and up her neck to cup her chin in his strong fingers.
"Christine..." He whispered. His voice reminded her of thunder rumbling through a clouded sky. Low and deep, it struck nerves in places she never knew existed.
She felt him lean down into her neck. His lips caressed her sensitive skin.
"Oh, Christine..." He whispered against the delicate skin of her neck. Those three whispered syllables reached into her core, making her shiver.
"Christine, I need you..." slowly, his voice began to fade.
"Christine..."
"Christine! For heaven's sake, wake up!" Christine felt a hand on her shoulder, wrestling her from sleep. Her eyes fluttered open to Meg's worried face looming over her.
"Hmm? What time is it?" Christine mumbled. She sat up in bed and rubbed her palms against her tired eyes. It was the dream again. she'd had it before, but never had it affected her so deeply.
"Time to get out of bed! We have rehearsal this morning."
Of course, the dress rehearsal for Hannibal. She'd all but forgotten. She glanced passed Meg to see the other chorus girls were already bustling about the dorm, preparing themselves for the day ahead, like she should be.
"It's not like you to oversleep, Christine." Meg said, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. She reached a hand up to Christine's forehead, checking for a fever. Her brows furrowed with concern.
"Are you well? You look awfully flushed. I heard you groaning last night in your sleep and thought you might be ill."
the blush that creeped up Christine's neck was not from sickness. She clutched the night gown to her chest self consciously and averted her eyes from Meg's curious ones.
"I'm quite alright, Meg." Christine said as she shuffled her legs out from under the covers. she needed to get dressed and quickly. At this rate, she'd be the last one on stage. She practically flung herself out of bed and hurried down the hall toward the dressing room.
"Are you sure?" Meg called as she raced down the hall after Christine. "If you're not, I can tell Maman. I'm sure she'll go easier on you."
Christine glanced back at Meg, flashing her a warm smile. She did love Meg's caring nature. It was one of a long list of qualities that endeared her to her oldest friend at the opera populaire.
"You worry too much. I'll be fine."
Christine dressed in a hurry shuffling the jewelled garment over her head and hips. When she finished, Meg took her hand and led her from the dressing room. They followed the last straggling of girls down the spiral staircase to the stage, taking their places at the barre just in time to avoid a scolding from Madame Giry.
Carlotta's shrieking voice pierced through the auditorium and it was all Christine could do not to wince.
"...As you can see, production is now underway for the latest production, Hanniabl..."
"Monsieur, please I am rehearsing!" Reyer cried out as Monsieur Lefevre entered the stage, two other men in tow that Christine had not seen before. One was tall with a curled moustache, the other was short and balding.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Madame Giry, your attention please, thank you." Lefevre addressed the room at large. All the cast members gathered around to hear what news the Opera Populair's owner had in store.
"As you all know, for some weeks there have been rumours of my imminent retirement." The room grew suddenly silent, though the news didn't surprise Christine. She'd heard the whispers in the dormitories and among the other cast members.
"I can assure you that these rumours are true," Lefevre continued. "And now, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the opera populaire," Lefevre gestured to the two men at his side, "Monsieur Firman and Monsieur Andre." The men bowed and waved as the cast members applauded.
"I'm sure you've read of their recent fortune amassed in the junk business." Monsieur Lefevre commented.
"Scrap metal, actually." The shorter man mumbled, looking slightly annoyed. The tall man called Firman chimed in.
"We are deeply honoured to present our new Patron, the Vicomte de Changye!"
Christine stared, her moth agape as the man emerged from the throng of cast members. She'd know that flop of blonde hair and handsome features anywhere.
"It's Raoul." Christine whispered to Meg, who shot her a questioning look.
"I knew him years ago, before my father died, when we lived in the house by the sea...I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts." Her eyes never left Raoul's face as she spoke. "He called me little Lotte."
"Christine, He's so handsome." Meg cooed. Raoul addressed the crowed in front of him.
"My parents and I are honoured to support all the arts, especially the world renowned Opera Populair," Raoul said as Carlotta strutted toward him like a peacock, her hand outstretched. Somewhat awkwardly, Raoul took her hand and kissed it. Christine could see in his eyes that he was taken aback by Carlotta's unbridled arrogance.
Raoul finished greeting the leading members of the cast before making his departure and, Christine imagined, his escape from Carlotta.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it seems as though I am keeping you from your rehearsal. I will be at the gala this evening to share your great triumph." Raoul smiled and nodded to the group.
As he turned to leave, Christine lifted her head towards him in hopes that she would catch his eye, but he walked past her as though she didn't exist. Christine cast her eyes to the floor in disappointment, heart sinking to her toes.
"He wouldn't recognize me." Christine sighed.
"He didn't see you!" Meg chided.
But Christine had no time to pine for her childhood sweetheart. Promptly, Madame Giry waved the dancers onto the stage to rehearse the ballet portion of the performance. Christine contorted her face and body into all the necessary expressions and movements while her mind flooded with the events of the day. She thought of Raoul, now more handsome that she'd remembered. How could he pass her by so easily? Then again, it had been years.
After nearly an hour of back breaking work, the dancers gathered off to the side of the stage to take a breath while the other acts rehearsed their parts. Christine breathed deeply, whipping the sweat from her brow. Her mind had wandered further than she wanted it to go...back to the images from the night before that made goosebumps appear on her flesh...to the voice that haunted her, even in her waking hours...Meg turned to say something to Christine when a commotion from the other end of the stage caught their attention.
"...because I will not be singing!" Carlotta bellowed as she stomped toward the exit. The new managers looked at one another, clearly panicked. They rushed towards her, showering her with praise and compliments for there was nothing the famous Diva loved more than adoration.
"I wonder, seniora, as a personal favour, if you would oblige us with a private audition?" Firman asked. As quickly as Carlotta's mood appeared, it was gone, replaced by a sickly sweet smile.
"if my managers command." She crooned. Carlotta stalked toward centre stage and began the aria. Christine suppressed the urge to shield her ears from the squawking noise that was Carlotta's singing. She could see from the new managers faces that the experience was no more pleasant for them. Carlotta droned on,exaggerating every note, gesture and expression to an excruciating degree.
Christine was standing quietly by Meg's side when she noticed a fluttering of fabric above her...then gaped in horror as an entire tapestry fell onto the stage. Commotion broke out instantly, dancers dashing and running every which way to avoid the falling beam.
"Ah! Ah! Ah! My ankle!" Carlotta whined and slapped at the ground. The other cast members rushed over to assist her.
Christine sighed with relief, then glanced over at Meg, who was still staring at the tapestry in shock. "It's alright now, Meg. I don't think anyone was hurt...aside from Carlotta." Christine said, glancing over at the Prima Donna who was now causing a commotion among the managers as she threatened to quite the production all together. Meg blinked a few times, then turned back to face Christine, her blue eyes wide.
"It was the Phantom of the Opera, it had to be."
"Meg-" Christine began, but she didn't finish.
"Christine Daae could sing it, Sir." Christine's head snapped up at the sound of her name. Madame Giry walked over to where she stood, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"A chorus girl? Don't be silly." Andre said, dismissive of the very idea.
"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher." Madame Giry said pointedly.
Christine suddenly felt frozen in place. What on earth was Madame trying to do?
"Who?" Andre asked. Christine looked at the ground, embarrassed. Her angle was a very secretive man.
"I...don't know his name Monsieur." She admitted.
"Let her sing for you, Monsieur. She has been well taught." Madame Giry said. Why was she so eager to push the issue, Christine wondered.
The two managers glanced at one another, considering Giry's proposal. Andre spoke first.
"Well, alright then." He said, waving her over to centre stage.
Christine took a tentative step forward. She felt as if butterflies had been let loose inside her stomach.
"Come along, don't be shy," said Andre as he motioned her toward him. Christine took her place, staring out at the rows of empty seats.
"From the beginning of the aria then please, Mademoiselle" Monsieur Reyer called from the orchestra pit. Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and began to sing. Her voice was sweet and pure, floating effortlessly over the notes, just the way her Angel taught her. When she finished, everyone in the room stood around her in stunned silence.
Andre and Firman looked at one another in shock, until Firman broke the silence.
"Andre," he said "I think we have found our star."
- 1
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The Phantom's Curse