Page 23 of Angel's Fall
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ThePlace de L’Opéra,Raoul had found, was never truly quiet. It was chaos before a performance, of course, but there were people at the great crossroads at all times of the day, coming and going. He was glad of it. He’d had the carriage drop him off in front of the Madeleine, ostensibly to pray at the huge church before embarking on a day of errands and preparation for his voyage. Or so he had told his family.
In all truth, Raoul hated the Madeleine more than ever now. He had detested its pagan design and gaudy celebration of a whorebeforeChristine had jilted him there (on Erik’s orders). Now, even looking at it made his blood boil. Raoul shook the memory from his head as he entered the Opera through the rear entrance on theBoulevard Haussmann.It was still early and only a few artists and musicians had arrived so far. His appointment with Christine was not until later in the morning, and he was glad of it. He had other business.
Raoul recognized the bespectacled secretary standing watch at the door of Messieurs Richard and Moncharmin. The little man looked rather green this morning as he stared at the doors, unaware there was a patron waiting to be served beside him. Raoul coughed loudly and the man jumped.
“Oh, Monsieur de Chagny!”
“Are they available?” Raoul asked, already impatient.
“No, Monsieur, they are in a meeting regarding a new production and—”
“You have no vision,” a voice cried from behind the door and the secretary gulped. “It will be a sensation!”
“It will cause a riot! The patrons’ patience is already wearing thin. This will ruin it.” Raoul recognized Richard’s more measured (and perpetually annoyed) tones.
“Damn the patrons, we won’t need them with the sales this will win us!” The other voice (Moncharmin, obviously) replied. Raoul raised an eyebrow and the secretary beside him looked absolutely beside himself.
“So you’re doubly a fool,” Richard said, voice closer now. Before Raoul could think, the door swung open. “Oh, perfect.”
“Good day, Monsieur Richard.” Raoul looked over the older, bald man’s shoulder towards his colleague. “Monsieur Moncharmin,” Raoul added coolly.
“What do you want, Monsieur?” Richard asked, impatient as ever.
“To discuss an important matter with one or both of you,” Raoul said proudly. “The influence of the so-called Opera Ghost on this institution.”
It was Moncharmin who laughed first, drawing a glare from Raoul and a dubious look from Richard. “I think you have been spending too much time with the petits rats. That’s just a legend.”
“What happened to La Carlotta right on your stage wasn’t a legend,” Raoul countered. “Nor was the thing stalking about the masquerade as Red Death.”
“Yes, indeed, that was an ingenious costume,” Moncharmin scoffed. Raoul elected to continue ignoring him in favor of watching Richard.
“What is your point, young man?” the balding manager asked with a sigh.
“That someone is abusing you and the people in your employ!”
“They – just like us – are in the employ of the National Academy of Music, Monsieur,” Richard answered, and Raoul opened his mouth to protest. “I do see your point when it comes to these ridiculous stories and the undue influence they have,” he went on in a growl directed at Moncharmin. The other manager rolled his eyes.
“What are you going to do about it?” Raoul asked.
“Why, nothing, Monsieur.” Richard began to push Raoul bodily from the office.
“You can’t mean that!” Raoul protested as he found himself guided into the hall and away from the gaping eyes of the secretary.
“I don’t,” Richard hissed. Raoul blinked at the older man, expecting some joke, but Richard’s face was deadly serious. “But must say so while in the hearing of the so-called artistic manager of this cursed place.”
“What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything. I am telling you that I know the ghost has insinuated himself into every damn aspect of this place, including the mind of Monsieur Moncharmin. I am done with it,” Richard whispered, as if afraid the walls had ears. He might be right.
“I assure you, Monsieur: I am your ally in this pursuit. I am trying to find a way to destroy him,” Raoul said as quietly as he could, trying to sense if there were unearthly eyes watching. “I am trying to find a way down to him.”
“Down?”
“He lives far below, and I mean to find him,” Raoul answered. “As soon as I can.”
“You’ll need keys then. Rémy! Bring me your keys!” Richard yelled back over his shoulder, and the secretary came running. He handed over the ring of keys with a quizzical look before Richard batted him away. “I don’t have mine at the moment, but these will do for you. Good luck. I hope you don’t end up like Buquet. The police inquiry would be interminable.”
