Page 80 of Angel's Flight
They turned in shock to Letitia, though Erik hid his face immediately at the way she winced.She surely couldn’t mean it...
“You’re too kind.Thank you,” Christine said for them.Erik kept his eyes on the floor.Where was the mask?God, had that bastard taken it like he said?Fuck.“Howard, would you please escort Adèle home safely?”
“I don’t need an escort,” Adèle replied.“I can help.”
“You don’t need to be involved in this, I promise.You’ve been through enough,” Christine replied firmly.She didn’t want Adèle to know that it was Antoine’s ghost that had ruined it all.She didn’t deserve that.
“Take care of yourself,” Adèle sighed.Erik didn’t look at her or anyone as Christine guided them out into the night, following after Letitia.He at least had the presence of mind to wrap his face in his scarf so he wouldn’t frighten passersby.
When did it get so cold?Was that why he was shaking?Where were they supposed to go now?Bidaut was out there and soon enough, he’d be coming after them, maybe with that awful Pauline; both of them out for revenge as well as a fortune.Where were they supposed to hide when the past kept finding them?
Paris
The last place Megwanted to go was home.She knew as soon as she was back in their flat she’d feel safe, that her mother would embrace her and make sure she was fed and warm.She always showed her care, but Meg didn’t feel like she deserved it.She had made an awful choice and only a ghost had saved her.Her mother would be mad about that too.
Meg lingered, instead, trying to take up as little space as possible in the Opéra’s halls, half-heartedly looking for some intriguing clue.There was little new to be seen, but what Meg did see felt like a revelation after talking to Rochelle.For the first time, she looked without flinching at the way men fondled the young dancers, drew them into corners, and licked their lips at their prey.She watched as young singers forced themselves to flirt with old men, elbowing one another aside.She hated it all.
What Meg wasn’t expecting to see was Shaya emerging from a staircase.In a blink, she was blocking the hall in front of him.
“I think we were wrong,” Meg blurted out before she saw that Shaya wasn’t alone.None other than Moncharmin was beside him, looking chagrined.Maybe it was fine, Meg hoped.Maybe he knew she was part of this now.
“Mademoiselle Giry?”Moncharmin asked in confusion, immediately proving her wrong.“What are you talking about?Do you know Monsieur Motlagh?”
Meg frowned, her embarrassment flaring.“I assumed he informed you.”
“Armand, I told you I had an agent helping me at the Opéra,” Shaya grumbled.
“And you wanted it to sound more mysterious and important than a ballet rat,” Meg sniped back.“I see how it is.”
“I’m sure you’ve been very helpful,” Moncharmin said in that condescending, overly kind tone that parents use for a child who has shown them a cake made of mud.
“I have, actually,” Meg replied.“I just had an important talk with Monsieur d’Amboise.He thinks the list was—”
“We’ve discussed that,” Shaya cut in, pushing past Meg.She followed.“I know the men were not favorable to Richard, but there’s been a different development.”
“Where are you going?”Meg demanded as Shaya and the manager strode determinedly down the hall.“You can’t just leave!”
“I’m afraid I must.Urgent business has come up,” Shaya replied, looking over his shoulder.“I have to get to London.I may already be too late.”
“London?Why?”Meg couldn’t understand.
“That’s not my truth to reveal,” Shaya replied, casting a knowing sidelong look at Moncharmin.
“Come to me tomorrow,” Moncharmin added, which Meg didn’t find reassuring at all.“We’ll talk through all of this and I’ll hear what you have to say.”
“You can visit Darius too,” Shaya added.“I’ll be telegramming him as soon as I’m settled.”
“But—” Meg stammered, tripping to a halt.It was too late: the men were already gone and she hadn’t even been able to share her theory.Or Rochelle’s theory, to be more precise.
Meg dragged her feet back to the dressing rooms, her heart and conscience heavier than before.She pouted as she changed, wishing she had a dresser to help her.
Meg jerked like she had been pinched, an idea occurring to her.
One dresser in particular came to mind: Julianne Bonet, who had once helped the dancers before attending to Christine Daaé herself.She had been friends with the diva up until the very night of the chandelier disaster.Maybe she knew something about Christine and the ghost that might be of use.The only problem was that Julianne had left her employment at the Opéra after all that business.She had also been Jammes’s paramour, a fact only Meg knew and had never spoken of.Maybe Jammes knew where to find her.
Meg tightened her shawl around her, determined in her course for the morning.She would talk to Moncharmin and she would also seek out Jammes and see if she could learn for herself all that Shaya wasn’t telling her so that...
So that she could stop the ghost?She didn’t feel like that was her quest anymore, she had to admit.Now she just wanted to know the truth, for the truth’s sake, and then decide what to do with it.
