Page 15 of Angel's Flight
“I was supposed to see my sister,” Marie argued, as Jammes looked daggers at Meg.
“She’ll still be in class.Come along,” Meg said and took the small dancer’s hand to lead her away before anyone stopped them.She sometimes forgot that Marie also had family at the Opéra, an older sister who worked as an extra in large crowd scenes and a younger one who was a junior student at the school of dance where all thepetits ratsstarted.
Meg hurried through the halls with Marie in tow, the other girls following close behind, until she found a secluded corner for them to hide.
“Meg, have you forgotten where the costumers are?”Blanche asked.
“I don’t think young Giry here really meant what she said,” Rochelle replied, looking somewhat amused.“She wanted to get us away from those two vultures and Jammes.”
“So I could show you what I found!”Meg squealed as she pulled the note from where it had been hidden in her bodice all day.“My mother had it – it frightened her.I haven’t opened it yet, but it has to be from him!”
“Him who?”Blanche asked, and Rochelle groaned.
“Do you mean the ghost?He’s sending notes through your mother again?”Marie demanded, utterly breathless.
“Or your mother received some bill or a note about some sick relative that you’ve stolen from her,” Rochelle countered.
“Let’s see it then,” Blanche said, her blonde ringlets shaking at the side of her head.Meg’s hands shook as she unfolded the note.Maybe Rochelle was right – maybe it was something personal her mother didn’t want her to see.Something from her father’s family, perhaps, or...
“Red ink,” Marie gasped.
Meg’s eyes finally focused on the paper in her hands.Indeed, the words were scrawled in a jagged handwriting that was hard to read, in ink red as blood.
“Remove the following, or I shall:” Meg read, voice unsteady.“Then a list of names.”
“Names of whom?Dancers?Am I on there?”Marie squeaked.“I knew I never should have taken the offer to pose!”
“There’s no Van Goethem,” Blanche reassured her as she looked over the list.There were six names scribbled on it.“None of these are dancers or even singers, as far as I know.”
“Orchestra, maybe?Or stagehands?”Meg suggested, before Rochelle gasped.
“They’re patrons.Look.”Rochelle pointed a quivering finger to the final name on the list.“Tremblay.And now he’s been assaulted.”
“You think the ghost did that?”Marie asked, grabbing Meg’s arm for protection.“Like he did to Buquet?”
“No, that can’t be,” Meg exclaimed.
“He’s already killed one patron.Poor Philippe de Chagny,” Blanche sighed.Only recently had La Sorelli returned after her period of mourning, but Meg thought her wearing a black veil still was a bit much.She also didn’t believe that the ghost had done the Comte de Chagny in.
“That was an accident in the lake,” Meg protested weakly.“This might not be about the patrons.It can’t have been a threat to your Monsieur Tremblay.”
“I thought you were convinced this was from him?”Rochelle asked, her thick black eyebrows high in judgement and disbelief.“Don’t tell me you still think he’s benevolent!Not after the chandelier.”
“No,” Meg protested, the awful sound of the chandelier crashing into the audience echoing in her memory.“But he’s the Opera ghost – he doesn’t go outside the Opéra!”
“Says who?”Rochelle asked, raising her chin like a duchess.“I heard that—” The dark-haired dancer stopped herself.
“Heard what?”Meg demanded.She very much didn’t like not knowing every story and rumor of the ghost.
“Antoine de Martiniac didn’t die in the opera,” Rochelle smirked.
“Antoine de Martiniac isn’t dead,” Blanche countered, blinking in confusion.“Is he?”
“No one has seen him in months, and he was best friends with Comte Philippe.The Ghost killed them both, is what I think.”Rochelle explained.“So does Jammes.”
“Are you friends with that sour sack of frowns now?”Marie piped up as Meg shook her head and tucked the list back into her bodice.
“Still, why these patrons?”Meg asked.“Do you know why anyone would want to hurt your Monsieur Tremblay?”
