by Kailin Gow
“What had you running in such a panic? I’ve never seen you so frightened.”
I was embarrassed to say it. Had it all been in my head? Was I just fatigued and hallucinating? No, it couldn’t just be my head. The chandelier, the lipstick on the mirror; everyone had seen those. They were real.
“Strange things have been happening at the opera house. At first I thought it was you, unhappy that I’d returned to New Orleans. You’d cut the line to drop the chandelier on the stage and wrote my name in lipstick on the dressing room mirror. I was horrified at the thought that you could do such dreadful things.”
He frowned. “Those do indeed sound like what once happened, years ago at the Paris house. I used the very same tactics… But it wasn’t me.”
“The Paris house? You?”
His lips tightened. He’d said too much. But now that it was out, I wasn’t about to let him stop now.
“You’re the Phantom of the Opera; the one who created havoc one hundred years ago?”
He said nothing.
“Eric, please. I have a ghost on my back and all these horrible things keep happening. This isn’t the time to hide what’s really going on. How can you be here, young and beautiful if you haunted the Paris house of the 1800s?”
“Kristine, despite her beauty and for all her talent, was one of the ugliest women I’ve ever met. Her greed and blackened heart have done much to ruin the lives of the people around her, including my own.”
A heavy chill filled the air and I realized how painful it was for him to speak of Kristine.
“Helen, a gypsy who was Kristine’s mentor and teacher of the dark magic Kristine delved in took pity on me or perhaps cursed me that awful day I wanted to die from the misery of Kristine’s betrayal. Helen was thoroughly disgusted to learn how Kristine used her powers and how she’d ruined me. Ever since that day, since Helen pulled my crumpled broken form out of the tunnels of the Opera House, I have not aged a day. Instead, I have been haunted with the memory of Kristine and her evilness day after miserable day for over a century.”
Over a century? My mind was racing. What was Eric?
“It was Helen’s magic, I believe, that had kept me alive, yet tormented all these years. It was Helen’s magic, yet, that allowed the scars I had since birth, to fade away with time.” Eric gently touched my hair. “All the pain and loneliness I felt throughout the years. All of the memories I have to relive over and over again in my mind,” he grabbed my hands in his, drawing me closer, “is worth it for I have found you.” He cupped my face with both hands and leaned in close to kiss my lips gently, sweetly, and then more urgently. I melted into his kiss and felt his arms closed in protectively. “Annette,” he asked quietly, “tell me what happened. What frightened you so?”
I sighed. “Last night as I stood on stage, wanting to tell you that I was back and begging you to stop this nonsense, a woman whispered in my ear. It was the most frightening sound I’d ever heard. She knew my name, Eric. I ran and her laughter followed me. I don’t understand what she wanted; what she wants.”
Eric’s gaze became veiled and distant.
“What is it?”
“Kristine knew of the tricks I’d used in Paris. I don’t understand what she might be trying to achieve, but I know her well enough to know it can’t be good.”
I looked at him, trying to understand the passage of time and how he and Kristine played on it. Why was Kristine here and what did she want with me?
And Eric. Did he belong here? Was he truly a man of blood and bone, or would he vanish the moment the whim caught him. If his presence here was based on a spell, could the spell be broken?
During our passionate embrace I’d allowed all my questions to seep away. The only thing that had mattered was his skin against mine; his breath mingling with mine. I missed him so much I didn’t care what he was when he held me so.
But now, all the questions, doubts and fears returned.
Was I falling in love with a man or a ghost?
Chapter 20
December 23rd, 2009
Dear Diary,
I have but a moment to write before tonight’s show. I’m ecstatic about my reunion with Eric. Finding him again has given me the power, the strength and desire to perform I’d lacked during his absence. It lifts my heart to hear he too had suffered from our time apart. He DOES care about me. He cares so much to tell me about his past and to hint at what he is. Man or phantom? I still do not know surely, but I know I’m helpless to fight against this passion I feel for him, despite this nagging feeling of dread.
Now that Eric has confirmed my fear that it was Kristine’s voice whispering my name in my ear, my guard has gone up. Kristine was the Phantom and not Eric. Eric, I can deal with as the Phantom, but not Kristine. From everything I’ve heard about her, she was so diabolical, she was capable of anything.
Tonight’s performance was a triumph. I was positively radiant tonight. I felt it. I lived it. And I could see in the audience’s response how they felt my rebirth. I’d returned to my stage stronger than ever. When I took my final bow, I caught a glimpse of Chace, his face radiant as we caught each other’s eyes. He’d joined in the thunderous applause and smiled his endearing boyish smile. When he stood up to receive the audience’s applause for the first chair and orchestra, he held out a hand toward me, sharing the applause with me. I smiled, holding my hand out to him, and nodded. I had missed Chace, too. He was so supportive of me. I caught a glimpse of my dear friend Judy, who stood on the right side of the stage with the dancers. She winked at me and smiled. Then in the balcony seats nearest the stage, I saw Aaron clapping. He was dressed impeccably in a full tuxedo with tails and even a top hat. It brought a smile to my lips as I thought he looked like a wealthy young gentleman from the 1800s in that outfit. When we meet for dinner tonight, I would be sure to bring up Aaron’s interesting fashion sense.
As if sensing my thoughts, Aaron tipped his hat at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. I felt victorious and was happy to be back where I belonged. I made a final curtain call, bowed one last time and headed backstage to my dressing room.
The moment I entered my dressing room I knew something was wrong. Nothing was out of place. Nothing had changed since I’d last left it. I tried to ignore it and sat before the mirror to remove my heavy theatrical make-up.
As I dabbed a cotton ball soaked with makeup remover against my forehead, cheeks, and nose, I caught the sight of a dark haired young woman standing behind me. I bolt up and turned to face the empty room. There was no one there.
I took a small breath and grabbed another cotton ball, dipping it into makeup remover and began to wipe away the rest of the makeup, leaving my face clean. Then taking my own handbag from the chair next to me, I found my own lip-gloss and quickly dabbed it across my lips, smacking it in place.
Out of the corner of my eyes, looking at the mirror in front of me, I saw a dark hair girl dressed in an old-fashioned white shift walk across the room. The air suddenly became very cold, and a chill spread across the back of my spine, sending goosebumps up my arms. I didn’t want to turn around.
“Eric,” I whispered, begging him to arrive.
A faint snicker filled the air then suddenly stopped.
Feeling chocked, I took a sip of water to moisten my parched mouth. In my haste I spilled the contents of my glass, making a mess of the exquisite ball gown. “Darn it,” I exclaimed. Photographers were sure to be waiting to snap photos of my return and I looked a mess.
Once again I spotted the dark haired woman behind me, and once again I turned and found no one.
I hurried as best as I could to rid myself of the complicated garment. It was virtually impossible getting out of it alone, but I twisted, turned and practically contortioned myself to get it off. The only concession was I had to remove the ruby cross around my neck when the clasp of the chain caught in the fabric.
Before dunning another costume, I tried to untangle the clasp from the fabric. I dreaded be
ing without it and felt more nude and vulnerable without it than I did without my clothes.
Looking up from my dress for a second, I could make out the form of the young woman in the mirror. Her hair was thick and full, in long wavy dark locks, pulled up in an elegant half upsweep on her crown. Her eyes were doe-like and lovely, but hard. Her lips were full and curved into a mocking smile.
I closed my eyes, shivering. Hurriedly, I tried to get my dress off so I can change and get out of the room.
As my fingers worked to free the necklace from the dress I glanced up at the mirror. Suddenly, I remembered what Joana, the old Creole lady who helped out at my mother’s shop, said to me when I left for New York, “I will miss you, my Annette child, wear this cross necklace to ward off any evilness wherever you go.” I had admired the necklace’s craftsmanship and marveled at the brilliance of the red gemstones encrusting the cross. “Thank you,” I said to Joana. “It’s beautiful. I’ll keep it with me all the time.”
I remembered those words in horror, as soon as the necklace was freed from my dress and laid out on the vanity table. Ward off any evilness. The words burned in the air, as I felt a bone-chilling iciness filled me from head-to-toe, my head bursting with pain, and a throb deep from the back of my eyes.
“Annette, it’s time.”
The feminine voice, the same voice from the stage, had me dropping the gown as I pushed back my stool and stood. The Phantom! Kristine’s voice. Time for what? Time for what? I gasped as I tried to fathom what was to come. As soon as I thought of Kristine, my entire mind, my thoughts was filled with Kristine’s thoughts and memories, as though I was Kristine. The lady whose face I saw behind me in the mirror was gone. Instead, as I looked at my face in the mirror, I saw a glimpse of her staring back at me – those same eyes, now sad yet hard. And those full lips like mine now curled up into a mischievous smile.
I felt heaviness and sadness so deep, tears came to my eyes. Weariness weighed down on my shoulders, causing me to sit down on the vanity chair. I felt my thoughts filter in and out, becoming confused as to where I was. And who am I.
The cold intensified. My blood turned to ice as a deep freeze descended over me. My fingers went numb. I wrapped my arms around myself and felt the touch of my hot skin. The cold was coming from within. Surely my lips were blue, the cold was so intense.
I’ve read and heard about people being possessed before by evil spirits, especially from Joana, who knew about those things…Joana, the devout Christian woman who lived near my parents’ home in New Orleans. She helped out at my mother’s shop, and I’ve known her since I was a little girl. Living in an area where black magic was practiced, Joana had always warned me about the seriousness of playing with it, and the evilness it can bring.
Now it was happening to me. Why? Why did this evil spirit choose me to possess?
I glanced in the mirror to examine the effect of the cold. The eyes that met me were cunning and haughty. I tried to soften my gaze; it only hardened.
My God, I thought in a panic. What’s happening?
A voice within me laughed triumphantly. Then the words, “your body and mind is now mine, Annette. Your Aunt Kristine is here.”
Virtually naked now that I was free from my costume, Kristine positioned my body in front of the mirror and posed as if examining the body she now possessed. She turned my body one way then the next as her eyes scanned the line of my breasts, my waist and over my hips.
“Not bad,” She said through me, now controlling my speech. Not my speech! I yelled from within. No Kristine. No!
“Women were a little fuller, more curvaceous back when I was a girl.” I saw my lips move and heard my voice, but couldn’t understand where the thoughts were coming from. “But I think I can make this toned figure work.”
Kristine strolled before the mirror with a provocative sway of my hips like a gypsy.
“Yes, I think I can make this work just fine. We should make the most of your curves.” She turned before the mirror and admired my backside. My hand passed over the curve of my buttocks and down to the stockings that were held by a garter. “You know, as a gypsy I learned of the many, many ways to pleasure a man. With my knowledge and experience, Annette, you will become irresistible to any man, like I was.”
I wanted to shout, to scream and to stop this nonsense.
“Calm down, Annette. Kristine will take care of you.”
Kristine? No. No! It was true what that voice said. Kristine was controlling my every move and speech, as though I was a puppet, helpless in her hands. At least she did not control my thoughts. I was still alive inside of my body. But my voice cannot be heard now, except within me.
A sardonic chuckle escaped my lips, which was not mine, and filled the room. “You’ve been letting this wondrous body go to waste, dear Annette. It’s time we put it to good use.”
Foregoing the formality of knocking, Aaron entered and stopped as he took in my state of semi-dress. “Oh, Annette, sorry…you’re still changing…” He averted his eyes politely, and was about to step outside when my lips moved.
“Wait, don’t go,” Kristine said to Aaron. Then she lowered her voice. “I missed you.”
I wanted to die.
Aaron then visibly swallowed while his eyes coolly took in my body from head to toe. “Annette, maybe I should step out so you can change. The photographers and reporters are waiting. Can you please hurry up?”
I can feel Kristine’s anger building up at Aaron’s coolness.
“Aragon, wait,” Kristine said, provocatively placing a hand on top of my breast coyly. “Annette, uh, I, haven’t seen you for a while. Aren’t you happy to see me?”
Kristine, what are you trying to do? Please don’t play with my Aaron. He’s been so kind to me and honorable.
“Hush!” Kristine hissed to me.
“I… hmmm.” He swallowed again and fidgeted. “I came to see how you were doing. You were great tonight. I’ve missed you and wanted a minute with you before we go out to meet the press.”
Kristine took my hand to reach for his tie and I pulled him to me. “Never mind the press, Aragon. I’ve missed you like you can’t imagine.”
I was horrified and couldn’t imagine what Aaron could possibly think of my sudden wanton behavior. Kristine was going to ruin everything; was going to ruin me.
“Annette,” he whispered huskily slipping his hands around my bare waist. “What’s gotten into you? This isn’t like you at all.”
“I told you, Aragon. I’ve missed you.”
“Your voice…you…you’re so sexy. What’s gotten into you? I mean, I like this side of you, but where’s the Annette who wanted to take things slowly? D’you get some voodoo or something down in New Orleans? Has something changed your mind about us?” He pressed his body to mine and my breasts, barely contained by the revealing bra I wore, crushed against his chest, looking intently into my eyes.
I miss you Aaron, I shouted, remembering how much I miss his friendship and guidance. I do want to take it slowly. I don’t want to jump into anything I will regret…
“Something like that.” I watched helplessly while Kristine controlled my every move, my every speech in her planned seduction of Aaron. Evil laughter filled the room while my arms wrapped around him. My hands into the back of his jacket collar and worked their way to the front. With expert movements I couldn’t control, my fingers clasped his jacket and pulled it back off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
“Annette?” he raised his eyebrows, questioning me.
Kristine ignored his question and continued on with the seduction. With feverish urgency, she tried to use my fingers to rid him of his shirt, but Aaron put his hand over mine, stopping me from completing the task.
“Are you alright, Annette?” he asked. “You’re so wild.” He took a deep breath. “I want you, Annette, but not like this. Not now.”
I felt the fury in Kristine rise to a dangerous level.
“What happened to the inno
cent Annette I know,” Aaron said.
“Who cares?” came the throaty response. “I want you, Aragon.”
Aaron looked into my eyes. Can he see through Kristine’s possession of me?
Aaron looked like he was struggling. “Oh, Annette,” he sighed, pressing his chest to mine as he pushed me onto the sofa. “I’ve been waiting so long for you to want me, and now you, this new sensual Annette, wild, free, uninhibited…”
“You’ve not yet begun to see what I can do to you, Aragon.” Kristine used my hands to grip his shoulders and pulled him to me, over me, encouraging him to press his pelvis into mine.
Aaron groaned as he pressed his face into my hair and whispered, “I missed you so much. If this is what you want, Annette…”
Kristine tossed my head back with wanton abandonment and a victorious and throaty giggle erupted.
Aaron’s head lifted from my hair to look again into my eyes before kissing me tenderly and then with more passion.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, the door opened and Chace rushed in. Why was everyone rushing into my dressing room all of a sudden? Then I remembered…first day back from my trip and everyone wanted to see me. This was the first opportunity for Chace to see me after my return. “Annette…I knocked, but you weren’t answering so I thought something was wrong, and…”
The expression on his face – the pain, the betrayal – killed me. I’d never wanted to hurt him, and here I was practically naked and wrapped in another man’s arms. Please forgive me, Chace.
I didn’t know how to fight her. Kristine had control over every move I made and no matter how much effort I put into trying to regain control, I was ultimately helpless.
Chace stared at me for what seemed an eternity. Kristine smiled at Chace, taunting him, letting him see how much she enjoyed being in Aaron’s arms.
