Page 23 of Angel's Flight

“Her patron was attacked just like my Philippe!”Sorelli yelped, and Meg’s heart seized.There had been another attack.

“Monsieur Sabran is nothing like your Philippe,” Hermine sneered.She didn’t look as upset as Meg would have assumed at hearing such news.“He’s half-deaf and drinks too much.He probably fell on his face and blamed it on a robber.”

“I heard his arm was broken,” Jammes said darkly.“And right after you said the other day you hoped he’d end up like Monsieur Tremblay and never touch you again.”

“What are you implying, Cécile?”Hermine growled.“I was with Sorelli and our friends last night at her flat.You remember friends, don’t you?You used to have them.”

“And Jammes wouldn’t know much about what some must tolerate to please a man,” Sorelli added, which made Meg blush on Jammes’s behalf.

Meg herself had never spoken to anyone of seeing Jammes in the arms of another woman at the masquerade months ago – but rumors had a way of spreading in the Opéra.Maybe Julianne had said something, though it occurred to Meg for the first time that Christine Daaé’s former dresser had not returned to the Opéra when it reopened.Sorelli’s barb set a fire in Jammes’s eyes, and she spun away from the other dancer, making for the door.

Meg had no time to hide as Jammes wrenched the door open and revealed her.“What are you doing lurking out here, you little sneak?More secret business I’m not needed for?”

“I...”Meg met Sorelli’s eyes over Jammes’s shoulder.“I heard about poor Monsieur Sabran.I wanted to make sure Hermine wasn’t too upset.”

“In hopes of getting in a soloist’s good graces to advance yourself?”Jammes accused.

“Cécile, calm down,” Hermine chided.“Meg was just being kind.You should try it sometime.”

Jammes gave them all a final huff and stormed past Meg.

“What is wrong with her lately?”Sorelli sighed.“Of all the people to be put upon, with all this violence.”

“Unlike you,” Hermine sighed.

“I loved Philippe,” Sorelli crowed.

“And I hated Georges,” Hermine countered.“What matters is that this is the second time one of our patrons has been attacked: this time, right outside the Opéra on theRue Auber!Next time, it might be one of us.It might be worse than a robbery.”

“So he was robbed?”Meg asked.The other women looked at her suspiciously.“I heard it was just a beating.”

“Why would someone attack a rich man and not rob him?”Sorelli snorted.

“Maybe he was on someone’s list,” Meg said before she could stop herself.“Of enemies!I mean.Men like that – of influence, like him and Tremblay – they make enemies.”

“Everyone enjoyed him,” Hermine replied.“Except his wife and I and whoever came before me, I guess.”

Meg was about to ask more when she heard it.A soft sound through the dark from far down the hall: laughter.

“Who was that?”Meg squeaked, spinning around to see the source of the sound.She found nothing but shadows.

“Who was what?”Sorelli asked.

“I have to go,” Meg said and rushed towards where she had heard the sound.There, rounding the corner, was a shadow – she was sure of it.She saw it for only a moment but it was there.Meg sped up, pursuing the phantom but came to an empty dead end.He had disappeared, like always.

Meg knew what she had seen, though.She knew what she had heard.More importantly, another of the men on the ghost’s list had been attacked.She needed to warn the others.Who knew if they were destined for a fate like Tremblay’s or one like Philippe de Chagny’s?Meg certainly didn’t want that on her conscience.

Lucca

Erik wished, more thananything, that he could take the mask off and feel the fresh air on his cheeks.They had been in Lucca for three days, keeping to Jack’s rooms in his family’s house and trying their best not to be seen until it started to drive them mad.Christine had begged him to come with her on a walk along the old walls of the city.

The walls were wide and easy to walk.Laid out in a jagged pattern, the old fortifications had once protected Lucca from enemies from the land to the east and the sea to the west.Now, as the sun set and silence stretched between him and his wife, Erik did not know if any place would ever feel safe for them again.

“Jack should be there when we get back,” Erik sighed as he looked out over the darkening landscape.

“And that will make a difference for us?”Christine asked, not disguising the hopelessness in her voice.

“I hope he will have a telegram back from Tissot with answers.”It wasn’t safe to contact the solicitor from Lucca, so Jack had done it for them in Florence.“It might give us some idea of who is after us.Me.”

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