In My Darkness: La Chatte Noire

Chapter Four: Christine Daaé

Chapter Four: Christine Daaé

Another week passed by. The Phantom seemed to be getting increasingly restless day by day, as if some invisible sort of insect was crawling all over his skin. There were times when it got so bad that she had to set her hands upon his shoulders and force him to stop fidgeting, but it seemed to do no good in the long run. Once or twice during the night, she had overheard him muttering the violinist's name over and over, "Daaé, Daaé, Daaé." It was nearly driving them both insane.

After sunset one evening, out of the blue, he shot up from his organ bench and grabbed his cloak like he was preparing to leave.

"Where are you off to at this late hour?" she asked, looking up from her poetry.

He turned back to look at her. "I am going up to le Maison d'Opera (the Opera House), I need to deliver a letter to the managers."

"Why not just let me do it? I haven't been up in a while," she stood up and walked towards him.

"No!" he protested, a bit too quickly, and she quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, "I wish to haunt for tonight. I think the ballet rats have gone far too long without a fright, do you not agree?"

A moment of silence reigned before she uncrossed her arms and shrugged. "Alright. But don't return too late; I'll kill you if wake me up," she joked, giving him a half-effort smirk.

"I shan't be long," he promised and rowed off in the boat.

What in le monde (the world) was that about? It was quite rare for him to run off like that with such an unbelievable excuse. She had noticed over the weeks that for all his rogue-like qualities, he was a horrible liar. He could act quite well, but when it came to outright lying, he was terrible. The Phantom could not lie at all to anyone, particularly her – she had lived with rogues for much of her life, she'd had to learn to be able tell when someone wasn't exactly being honest. Of course, O.G. didn't have much human contact with which to practice, so she couldn't expect him to be extraordinarily good at it, but even children lie better than that!

It was no surprise that she followed him. When she was curious about something, she tended to get answers. Therefore, she tailed her strange masked companion into le Maison d'Opera using the tunnels from the lair. It took a few minutes of silent creeping, but she finally found him. He was staring at the wall quite intently and singing to someone. For a moment, she was lost in his almost ethereal voice, but regained her senses and quickly walked to the other side of the room. It was the chapel, she knew that much, but why was he singing there? Then she heard the small voice of a young girl. She sounded so innocent, so pure and untouched by the horrors of real life. It was quite beautiful for a girl her age. When she looked through the space in the wall, it was like staring into a mirror that shows only that which you most desire.

The girl was just like her. Soft, brown, ringlet curls, the palest ivory skin... so much like her. Tears nearly sprang to her eyes as she heard the girl speaking – she even sounded like her.

"Est-tu l'Ange de Musique (Are you the Angel of Music)?" the young girl asked.

There was a pause before she heard the Phantom respond, "Yes, child, I am your Ange de Musique."

"So Papa did send you, just like he promised! Oh, tell me, Ange, how is he?"

"He watches over you, Christine. He is content in Heaven, but for missing his daughter."

La Chatte watched all this with some measure of confusion. What was O.G. doing? Why was he telling this little girl that he was her 'Angel of Music'? He was many things, but as far as she knew, an Angel was not one of them. For a few minutes, she simply listened to their conversation. It should have, but it didn't bother her that she was eavesdropping on him.