Page 2 of Angel's Mask

“You called me athing.” It was far from the worst insult the Ghost had endured, but he couldn’t let such disrespect stand.

“Oh, Monsieur, you know I would never insultyou,” Lachenal said, gulping. The Ghost knew something bold and foolish was coming next. “It – it’s just that you keep taking my damn horses without warning!” Lachenal finally stood still and focused on a point far from where the shade he was addressing actually lurked.

“Perhaps you would prefer to work elsewhere?” the Phantom taunted, and his prey began to shake. The Phantom laughed.

“Oh no!” Lachenal blubbered. “You, Monsieur, keep this work so – so exciting! I would never want to leave your employ. I’ll do anything to show you...”

“Hello?”

It was a woman’s voice that startled Lachenal out of his begging. It surprised the Ghost as well. They both turned their gaze to the soaking vagrant shivering in the cover of the stable doors, wide eyes attempting to make out the shadows and the idiot within them.

“Mademoiselle?” Lachenal asked.

“I’m sorry, I was just looking for a place to wait out the storm,” the girl replied.

“Oh, well. Hm.” Lachenal stared at the girl. So did the Ghost. She looked small and sad with the pouring rain behind her, little more than a leaf blown in by the storm.

“Invite her in, you buffoon,” the Phantom ordered, and Lachenal jumped.

“Yes, of course, come in!” Lachenal said, too loudly. The girl stepped into the stables with understandable apprehension in her face.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” The girl looked around, past Lachenal to the horses and empty space around him. “Oh. Weren’t you talking to someone?”

“Just to the horses.” The girl blinked. “They get lonely,” Lachenal added. The Ghost restrained a chuckle.

“I can’t believe there’s really a stable here,” the girl muttered after a pause.

“Where else would we keep the Opera’s brightest stars?” Lachenal puffed with pride, giving a slight bow and gesturing to the half-dozen stalls.

“They perform?” The girl came closer, and the Ghost could see her better. Her clothes were old and dirty, and overall, she was wholly unremarkable. Dark hair, perhaps slightly taller than most if she did slouch. She appeared to be in her twenties, but her eyes were sad and made her look older. She wasn’t ugly, not at all; she might even have been pretty, past the grime. But something prevented her from being beautiful, like looking at a stained-glass window at night.

“César here gets a louder ovation than the tenor when he appears inLe Prophète,” Lachenal explained with a grin. He gave the girl a nod as approached the white horse, indicating it was alright to touch him. The girl presented her hand to be sniffed before receiving César’s approving huff and then caressed the animal’s snout.

“It’s nice to know you, César,” she said. “I’ve never met so famous a performer before. I hope I can see you on stage someday.”

“There’s a performance tomorrow,” Lachenal piped up. “Alas,Fausthas no horses, despite my suggestions for where they could be included.”

“The man at the front made it quite clear I wasn’t welcome during the day, so I doubt I’d be allowed in for a performance. Even if I could afford a ticket.” She said it with a dry, brittle tone.

“Why were you trying to get in front?” The Ghost was glad Lachenal asked on his own.

“Oh. I was hoping that...I mean, I was looking for...” She obviously didn’t want to sound like a beggar, which was useless, since she certainly looked like one. “I need work,” she managed with a defeated sigh.

“Well, there are all sorts of places around that need a hand, the hotel across thePlace De L’Opéramight need maids.” Lachenal truly was trying to be kind, but the Ghost saw the way the girl’s face fell. Perhaps even the glimmer of a tear in her eyes.

“She wants to work here, you moron,” the Ghost whispered.

“Why would she want—” Lachenal stopped himself at the girl’s fresh look of confusion. “Why, uh, why doyouwant to work here of all places?”

“I love music,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve dreamed about coming here for a long time.” It wasn’t the whole truth, the Ghost could tell that, but it wasn’t a lie either. She said it with the tired sort of affection one has for the only thing left in your life that brings you joy.

“Take her to Grelot, you imbecile.” The Ghost surprised himself with the order. Perhaps the rain had him feeling charitable. And he did have a certain affection for lost and abandoned things. “Earn my goodwill this way. Don’t let her leave without a job.”

“In costumes?” Lachenal said, and the girl once again stared at him as if his hair was on fire. “I mean: yes! The costumers! Louise always needs warm bodies!” Lachenal exclaimed too enthusiastically. “Come on.”

“What?” the girl asked.

“Follow me, IpromiseI’ll get you set up nicely.” He said it too loudly, to make sure the Ghost heard.

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