Not everyone at the Opera House knew it was haunted. Perhaps the House cat had no idea beyond looking for the next rat. Cats are wise, after all, and don’t believe in ghosts. But most of the staff had seen things, heard things. Things that seemed to appear or disappear. Disembodied voices that laughed madly throughout the halls and ran shivers down the backs of even the most hardened stage hands, and shrieks from the ballet rats, and the prima ballerina alike.
It was hard work, all that haunting, and Erik was actually sick of it. He had to earn his keep, so to speak, his extortion payments or salary as he preferred to call it. But now he was in need of a few weeks off to relax and think and compose and, of course, maybe give Christine a few extra lessons through the mirror. How he looked forward to those sacred hours, that thrilling voice, so sweet, so pure. And her only thought… to please her Angel. Her Angel of Music.
Why did there have to be this pretense? He was no angel. He was thought a madman by some, a hired assassin, a magician. He was many things…but not an angel. How he longed to let Christine know who he really was. That he was a man who adored her, who watched over her, who loved her with every fiber in his tall, bony, masked body.
“One day,” he sighed. “Someday I’ll go to her and tell her everything. She won’t turn from me like all the others.” Not likely, he thought, sardonically. She was just a girl, well, a young woman now, and she would be no different. Why put himself through that?
He wandered down one of the tunnels thinking his ghostly thoughts in the dark, his catlike eyes able to see even in the darkest depths of the cellars below the Opera House. He noticed the cat, grey as a shadow, stalking something. She heard his approach, though his step was silent to most others. She turned to him and blinked in recognition. He crouched down and called to her softly, “Come here, Shadow, come to me.” She moved toward her friend and allowed herself to be petted and fussed over.
It was Erik who found her as a stray kitten and took her home and cared for her, eventually allowing her to come and go and become as familiar a part of the opera scene as any other performer or patron. No one questioned her arrival, as she proved useful with the ongoing rat problem.
Now Erik had an idea. He scooped Shadow up in his arms and went back through the tunnels till he reached his favorite spot in all the Opera House, the mirror to Christine’s dressing room. He undid the latch and dropped Shadow into the room. Then he watched and waited. Not much later, Christine entered, laughing and pausing to hug a friend or two before she shut the door, locked it and settled in the chair before her vanity. It was then that Shadow leapt to the table
“Oh!” cried Christine with a start. Then regaining her composure, she laughed. “Kitty, how did you ever get in here?”
“The Angel of Music sent me,” she replied!
“What!” Christine stood up, startled at the talking cat sent by her teacher. “How can this be? Is it true?” She picked up the cat and cuddled her. “Can you really talk?”
“If you believe in angels, then talking cats shouldn’t be such a stretch.”
Hmmm…where had she heard that voice? “Angel, are you playing tricks on me?”
“You don’t believe my cat can talk?” Erik chuckled. “And yet, you believe in angels.”
“You are teasing me. Will you never show yourself to me, Angel?”
“Be careful what you ask for,” Erik replied wearily.
“I ask only to see the person, whether angel or not, who matters more to me than any other. The person I have come to care for who hides from me so cruelly.”
Erik paused. He placed his hand on the glass…then reached again for the latch, and letting the mirror swivel open, he stepped through and stood before Christine. “I am not an angel. I am Erik. The man who has longed for this moment, but feared it as well.”
“Feared this moment? The one I, too, have longed for and dreamed of! Surely not!” And she studied this tall, cloaked apparition. She studied the mask. “Will you still hide from me behind that mask?”
“Oh, silly Christine. You will never want to be near me again if I show you my face. Why not leave things as they are? I will continue as your teacher.”
“Have a little faith in me, Erik. You know me better than anyone.” She came closer and stood on her toes to reach the mask.
Erik didn’t stop her. He was too tired to hide anymore. She held the mask and looked at his face, his skull-like presence, his yellow eyes that glowed like a cat’s. He was deformed from birth and had lived a life hidden from normal society, and he’d had enough.
“I see only the face of my teacher, of my angel…of the man I have come to love.”
Erik blinked. He was at a loss for words. Christine embraced him and he found himself embracing her in return. Shadow, watching it all, leapt down from the dressing table and circled the pair, purring and rubbing against their legs. She had seen it all in her years as Erik’s companion, the Opera Ghost’s pet. But this…this was definitely something new.