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

13. Twisted Every Way

Madame Giry's eyes now met mine, the closed lip smile still on her face, "He may be a man in his early fifties but his mind has the experience of an adolescent." She chuckled softly to herself, looking like a fond mother talking of her son. Glancing at the floor between us she continued, her tone a little more serious than before, "He told Christine his name because he loves her, he trusts her, and he wanted her to do the same." Her sharp eyes then studied me head to toe, taking me apart with her eyes and examining me like a dissected animal in a laboratory. After a while she paused, her eyes stopping at mine. They no longer looked distant, recalling a memory that happened over thirty years ago. They looked black, piercing, and serious, "You love him." Her realization felt more like an accusation, something I should feel guilty for. She stared at me like I was one of her students who had just performed a grande jete with wrong form even after years of training and correction. However, in the back of that cold, disapproving stare, there was a hint of pity, like she was suddenly aware that I had no future in ballet, like she just now noticed an injury that will never heal, crippling me for the rest of my life.

I swallowed and lowered my head, the wooden railing creaking within my hold. When I neither answered or met her gaze, she said with a dark tone, "Remember what I told you, de La Hye. You don't know what Erik is capable of. What he did with poor Buquet is just a sliver of his repertoire. Don't let your feelings," she nearly spat out the word, like it was some sort of childish behavior I had yet to grow out of, "tear apart the lives around you." And with that - she left; her black form melting into the darkness and disappearing.

Finding myself alone, I grabbed the railing I had been holding with both hands, a strand of my hair that escaped the pins falling over my lowered face. The wood splintered from the strength of my grasp and I loosened my hold before I broke it entirely. The crowd below had begun to disperse, frantically trying to get to where their assigned duties were to take place. Once the managers tripped over each other to return to their office and attempt to look inconspicuous, Raoul - or Loki - looked up to where I was standing. An uncharacteristic sneer crawled across Raoul's full lips. Holding my gaze for a moment longer, he turned on his heels and vanished into one of the shadows with a faint glow of green.

I desperately threw my hearing around the Opéra Populaire, trying to find where he went. He appeared and disappeared all over the opera house like a gopher popping his head in and out of different holes. When my hearing smashed up against a force field, I grimaced, clinging onto the pole beside me for support. I should have known that I would be the one to be hit with the hammer in our game of Whack-a-Mole. Loki cackled as I writhed in pain, resuming his oh so amusing game of teleport hide-and-seek. Glaring at the direction I had heard him last, I muttered, "Damn you, demon." And pulled myself back into an upright position.

Glancing up at where I had heard Erik, I thought of what Madame Giry had told me. I already knew what I was doing was wrong, and that my actions are, like she said, tearing apart the lives around me. What rang louder in my ears was what she had said before all of that.

"They will kill him, you know."

There was a dull thud and clanging of chains from above. I quickly found where Erik lurked, his attention fully focused on some of the mechanic's in the attic above the auditorium. Coming closer to him I called his name, the sound tasting as sweet as it had the first time I spoke it, "Erik."

He kept busy with the gears and chains that held up the chandelier. If he was the one who maintained the chandelier, this was the first I knew about it. The dark angel caring for the magnificent chandelier that brightly reigned over the auditorium did, however, make sense. I have always thought that the enchanting chandelier and the bewitching man were, in a way, one and the same.