The Art of Manipulation || Phantom of the Opera & Loki the God of Mischief ||

7. The Mirror Bride

Loki looked down at me expectantly, wanting to know our next move. I still held my finger to my lips and hovered my hand over his chest to keep him hidden.

Then softly, like a caress, like he was fawning over Christine from his place behind the mirror, Erik called to her, "Flattering child, you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside!"

Christine's slippers scrapped against the carpet as she twisted to look at her mirror. Hearing footsteps coming from directly behind me, on the outside of the Prima Donna's dressing room, I pushed Loki and myself deeper into the shadowy corner.

Raoul then emerged, rushing up to the dressing room door and pressing his cheek against it, unsure whether or not he had heard the booming voice that had come from within. He jiggled the locked doorknob, his attempt to open it becoming more and more frantic. "Christine! Christine!" He called. But she did not hear him. She couldn't hear him; not now that Erik's voice filled her ears, not allowing any other sound to take her from him.

The only sound that came from inside was Erik's haunting voice, beckoning her, hypnotizing her, manipulating her, "I am your Angel of Music. Come to your Angel of Music."

Now, all that remained - besides Raoul's desperate calls - were Christine's soft soled shoes disappearing behind the opened mirror. With a quiet scrape, the mirror was closed shut, the sound echoing with finality.

Grabbing Loki's cold, bony hand I closed my eyes and teleported the both of us to the nearest secret hallway.

"I had seen him, Madame Alouette. He brought me to him." Christine's voice haunted me as Loki and I ran down the maze of passageways to Erik's lair.

"She fears me, Alouette! She fears the Opera Ghost! She fears Erik and yet she has not seen his face! How much more if she ever saw Erik's face? She will die if she sees Erik's face!"

I stopped quick at one of the intersections, my panting reverberating off of the damp walls as Erik's words resounding in my mind. Loki, who was a few steps behind me, stopped once he caught up with me, his heavy breaths matching my own.

His face. Erik's face. I had been unsure about what to do next in our plan but now...

My head snapped to the boat that passed us, the boat's passengers too engrossed in each other to notice the other two figures standing in the shadows. The second it was out of sight I dashed down the hallway to my right and ducked under a low beam. Loki and I hid behind a damp stone column and watched as Erik helped Christine out of the boat. My own hand tingled when she placed her hand in his. Now both Christine and me know the warm, secure feeling of our hand in Erik's.

Erik and Christine stood face to face - or more face to chest, given the way Erik towered over Christine's child like frame. They stared wide eyed at each other, their chests softly heaving with anxious and unsure breaths.

Erik never said a word.

Even though all of this has happened before, it is my first time witnessing it. I could see, feel, and hear the trepidation Erik felt. As if waking up from a haze, Erik quickly dropped Christine's fragile hand and turned away from her.

Startled by the unexpected movement, Christine drew back, her own haze abruptly lifting. Her eyes never left the stranger in front of her. She asked in an accusing and fearful voice, "Who are you? Where is the Voice?"

Erik remained quiet, his sigh making an eerie echo when he heard Christine ask for "the Voice".

Then, like a doe sniffing out a possible threat, Christine stepped forward, her hand stretching out, the tips of her fingers brushing against the fabric of Erik's cloak. Erik turned his head, his eyes glued to the warm touch of her delicate fingers on his cloak. She flinched back again.