Chapter Eight: He's Starting With the Man in the Mirror
There was only a few hours left until opening night in New York. Then it would be five more performances till the tour left for Philadelphia. It was exciting, high paced, thrilling, and full of life all around the theater. Everyone was on top of their game, and everyone was excited to be back in New York.
In NYC during the first performance every year, there was a group of high end agents that came. That was enough to make everyone push to be the very best in whatever skill it was. For Genesis, she wasn't too thrilled about doing Point of No Return in front of potential employers of higher status.
There was the jitters, but there was also the fact that she didn't have a partner anymore. That was what was really making her nervous.
As she stretched, warming up for the last rehearsal before that evenings performance, Mr. Firmn walked up to her. Genesis looked up, standing straight to greet him. "Morning, Mr. Firmn."
"Good morning, Genesis. I'd like you to meet your new replacement for the last dance number you're in. Luke Hartfield." Mr. Firmn gestured to the young man about nineteen in age who stood behind him.
Luke was about five, eight in height with dark brown hair that seemed spiked in front. He had dark blue eyes that sparkled when he smiled, and rosy cheeks. It was as if he was always energetic and willing to attack a new project. He stuck his hand out quickly, smiling at Genesis. "It's an honor to be working with you, Miss Augustin."
Genesis blushed slightly, taking his hand and shaking it kindly. "Please, just call me Genesis. It will be an honor to work with you as well, Luke."
Luke nodded, letting go of Genesis's hand and motioning for the stage. "Shall we begin then?" He asked softly.
Genesis smiled. "Sure. The more practice the better. I'm still a little unsure about my footing with this piece anyway."
"Oh, it'll be simple. Just take my lead." Luke chuckled, placing his hand on Genesis's waist and leading her out onto the stage.
Jett had been standing a far distance off nearer his room. His hands were balled into tight fists, and his knuckles were turning white with how tightly he was compressing them.
"So...a new fop arrives to take my Christine..." Jett hissed through gritted teeth.
"You mean our Christine...?" A voice asked in his head.
Jett scowled. "What does a dead man want with a living, breathing dame as her?" He whispered more to the voice.
"Have you forgotten our covenant, my boy?" The voice growled like a demon, and a searing pain shot across Jett's heart.
He hissed, grabbing at his shirt and diving back into his room. Jett locked the door, rushing, wobbling over to the mirror that sat on his dresser. He stripped of his shirt, looking at a glowing emblem that resembled a skull on his chest near his heart. It burned with a fire greater than that of hell. It scorched the skin, causing a fowl aroma to pierce the air.
Jett bit his lip before a scream of pain could escape his mouth. "I have not forgotten..." He growled, grabbing hold of the burning mark. He pounded his other fist against the dresser, tears filling his eyes.
"You are my slave! Do not think your heart owns you! I own you!" The voice barked, finally letting the pain subside slightly.
Jett gasped for a clean breath, looking up at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes widened at what he saw. It couldn't be...it shouldn't have been. It was him. The voice which mocked and taunted him when he failed. Not his father, not his worst enemy. No...it was the Ghost of Operas Past. Erik Destler.
"You're a naive of opera! You know little to nothing without my help!" Erik hissed, his eyes dark with anger behind his mask.
"I have served you faithfully for many years! What makes now the time to punish me?! I had to lie to her! You had to lie to her! It isn't fair!" Jett growled at the reflection of death.
Erik pointed a gloved finger at Jett. "You gave me your vow. You did that, Jett. On your own accord. Remember?"
Jett remembered well what he had done. It haunted him daily, and every time he looked in the mirror, he was reminded of the sad truth in which he must face from day to day.
The days were hard after the car crash. Jett was terribly burned by an explosion, and where he stood medically looked bleak. It didn't look like he'd be able to walk or talk normally ever again. It was a sad sight to behold.
He got better to the point of being able to use a wheelchair, and by the age of eight he was being moved into a foster care facility. It was awful. He couldn't verbalize much more than a no or a yes, and all the other children treated him horribly. It got to the point where Jett began to be bumped from foster home to foster home, never securing a place with one particular family.
It angered him greatly. He wanted to be normal like everyone else. He wanted to be able to walk and talk like everyone else. He wanted to sing! Yes, Jett wanted to sing. At ten years old, he had been able to watch The Phantom of the Opera. He'd spend nights wide awake, dreaming of being able to sing just like that. Jett had determined that if no one else knew his true pain, the Phantom did. They were disfigured, torn from their families, and just in need of love.
So, Jett did the unthinkable. He had always been a bit off, being a lover of magic and darker things. Darker things turned into a love for darker magics, and darker magics turned into a love for the black arts. Chants, hexes, curses, and witchcraft. Jett enveloped himself in it, becoming darker and more distant.
Then, one day, when all seemed to be going for the better in Jett's dark little mind, he got a call from a stranger. A call from the Devil of the Opera himself. He had a pact, a way out. All Jett had to do was sign his name.
"Just sign your name on the line. Then, you'll have all your wishes and wants..." Erik hissed in Jett's ear.
Jett's eyes went wide in delight. A sadistic smile crept upon his young face, and without a second thought he grabbed at the paper. He signed his name, handing the paper back to Erik.
"Good boy." Erik snickered, pulling a dagger out and grabbing Jett's hand. "All I need is a bit of blood, and you're home free..." Erik placed the dagger in Jett's palm, drawing blood and letting it drip on the contract.
Erik laughed deeply, disappearing in a puff of smoke. Then the room was quiet and still. Jett looked around, confused. A sudden searing pain caused him to jump. He grabbed at his chest and moved his shirt, revealing the skull mark. Jett's eyes darkened to a black crystal. He opened his mouth slowly. "H-Hello...?" He whispered, covering his mouth as words uttered forth. He could speak!
Slowly, Jett stood up, his legs wobbly at first but stabilizing. He walked around his room. "Ha! I'm cured!" He exclaimed, running over to the mirror and looking at his reflection. The nasty burns on his chest, arms, and legs were gone. He looked like a new person. But his face...half his face was still marred. "W-What?" He felt angered but dismissed it.
He was cured for the most part. But could he sing? Of course he could! Jett took in a deep breath, letting a random note utter itself from his lips. It sounded perfect, simply perfect! He had all he wanted! He had all he ever needed! He was free...or so he thought.
Jett looked back at the devilish reflection that mocked him in the mirror. "I was a boy, and you tricked me!"
"You fell prey to the devil's tricks, Jett. Now, enough on the past. The present and nearer future is what you need to be concerned about. That boy...that dancing fop, has his eyes on our prize. You need to get him out of the picture." Erik snapped, his eyes lighting with fire.
"No! Genesis will have my head if I kill anyone again! She nearly cut off my head with Bradly Ross. That wasn't even me!" Jett scowled, pointing at the reflection.
In a split second, Erik's hand stretched forth from the mirror and caught Jett around the throat. His grip was burning and crushing. "You signed in blood! Till death you will serve me, and till death you will fulfill what you signed for!"
Jett gasped, grabbing at Erik's hand and trying to pry his fingers from crushing his larynx. "Stop...please..." He choked, his face turning red.
A sudden knock on the door caused Erik's grip to release itself, and Jett fell to the floor. He gasped for breath, panting heavily.
"Jett?" A soft voice called from behind the door.
Jett stood up quickly, going over to the door and popping his head out. "Alexis! W-What a surprise. Do you need something?"
Alexis gave Jett a funny look but then shook her head as if remembering something. "Yes, well...Mr. Firmn wanted you out on the stage. He wants to go over some trouble spots in the performance and needs you there as well. Are...you feeling okay?" She asked, looking at him with concern in her eyes.
"Alright, I'll be right there...and...yes, I'm perfectly well. Why do you ask?" Jett questioned, his voice wavering slightly from his confident manner.
"You look like you've seen a ghost." Alexis said, raising an eyebrow. "Five minutes..." She said, turning and dismissing herself.
Jett closed the door, leaning his head against it. "Oh, what have I done..." He whispered. Jett turned around bumping straight into Erik's muscular figure.
Before Jett could scream or get a word out of his mouth, he was a foot off the ground. The back of his head hit the door and his throat was crushed again by Erik's' strong hands.
"Get rid of him! Fulfill stage two of the plan, and get your sorry rear in shape! Got it?" Erik growled, nearly crushing Jett's windpipe with his thumb.
Jett's face went bluish purple as he nodded, fighting to get his throat free of the grip of steel.
"I made you what you are. Do not think you can escape from the bond you hold with me. I'm everywhere you are. When you sing, I sing. What you see, I see. What you feel, I feel. Who you love, I love. You know nothing without me first telling you to know. You do not think for yourself, you do not talk for yourself, and you most certainly do not swoon that girl for yourself!" Erik's voice growled so deeply it shook the room slightly.
Jett nodded as best he could, nearly on the verge of passing out.
Erik released his grip and watched Jett fall to the floor like a limp noodle. "Get up you pathetic worm." He kicked him in the ribs, moving back over to the mirror on the dresser. "You have two days, Jett. Then she had best be better than she was before." Erik slipped his hand through the mirror and disappeared completely.
Jett lay on the floor, his body weak and his breathing raspy. "Genesis, what have I done..." He moaned, burying his face in his hands. The Phantom had returned in his fullest state, and now he was hungry for the rewards of the covenant.