“Because it is my realm, and those who trespass into it die!”

I could not imagine a more beautiful voice, even though the words were harsh.  My ears longed to hear more as if they had only just now known what it was to hear.  I was delighted.  This was certainly more adventure than I had counted on when I got to Paris.  I licked the blood off my lip and smiled at the walls around me.  The voice could be coming from anywhere, but I’m sure the owner of it could see me somehow.

“Now, leave my domain, or you will be killed!” the voice ordered, and even as my ears drank in its glorious music my body readied itself for a battle with its owner.  I do not take orders!

Mimi grasped at my hand, feeble now, not commanding.  “We must get out of here, now!  Please, come with me, quickly!”  She began tugging me towards the stair.

I shook her off easily, any strength she had was far gone now, and stayed in my position just outside the rectangle of light shining down from above.  “Flee if you want to, you great cowardly ninny!  I take orders from no man and will stay right here and do as I please.”

“No, you don’t understand, he’s the Ghost, not a man.  He will kill you if we don’t flee now!”  She was pulling on me again.

I pushed her towards the stairs as I freed myself from her grip.  “Go then, if you’re so afraid.  I have nothing to fear from Ghosts, nor death for that matter.”  I shrugged and turned my back on her.  Mimi was no longer any concern of mine.

“I will send a group of strong men, firefighters, to retrieve your body, you great fool!  Die, then, you will be out of my hair!” she screeched from the top of the stairs.  I shook my head sadly for her as she thundered across the stage and away.  Some people are far too paralyzed by fear.  But I turned my attention away from the lighted world and into the dim understage.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least grant me the privilege of seeing you before I die.  It would be most interesting to meet the famous Opera Ghost!” I called into the darkness around me.  There was definitely some type of presence there.  I know I was not alone, and not talking to myself either.

“And what if there’s nothing to see?” the voice questioned a bit less harsh, and even somewhat amused.  “I am a Ghost after all, or so says Mimi.”

I spat on the floor.  “That for what Mimi says!  And I’m quite sure it’s possible to see you.”

“Oh?”  It was the most delicate, derisive, questioning syllable I’d ever heard.  I could not tire of talking to this voice, but would never reveal that thought to its possessor.

  “I’ve heard more than enough tales of this ballerina or that stage hand who caught glimpses of you in the corridors.  Show yourself, please.  Otherwise, I grow weary of talking to walls and will move on into your ‘realm,’ death threat or no.”  I took a few steps forward to highlight my point.

“Turn behind you, then, and see!  Let us see how fearless you really are.”  The extraordinary voice was no longer emanating from the walls, but from a single point directly behind me.  So I turned and saw.

A very slim male figure was standing on the bottom step of the trap, light pouring from behind him and making anything but his silhouette difficult to make out.  He was dressed all in black, but beyond that I could not tell much about his clothes.  An old fashioned black opera cape fluttered from his shoulders and he stood proudly.  Then he stepped down to my level and into the relative dimness.

The strange scent from earlier washed over me like a wave.  He moved like a dancer with a careless grace that almost took my breath away.  I could see now that he was in black slacks and a black silk pressed shirt.  But, I still could not see all of his face, for I discovered half of it was covered by a white leather mask shaped to rest very close to his skin.  The half I could see was handsome enough.  He had high cheekbones and a strong jaw line.  His features were angular and precise with a strange beauty to those I could see.  

    But his eyes!  I could see both of his eyes, and they glinted in the dim light like perfect polished sapphires.  He exuded a palpable field of dignity and a strange allure that I’m sure he was not aware of.  I was captivated and wondered how even moronic Mimi could run from this person.  He might be dangerous, but was certainly no Ghost.

Unable to fathom any other response to the sudden appearance of this man, I leaned forward my upper body in something of a half bow.  A curtsey seemed ridiculous, but some form of old fashioned greeting seemed right.  He appeared very amused by my action.

“What, no screaming, no running, no pleading for your life?  You are either very brave or very foolish, for you look on your death.”  Sarcasm dripped off his words like acid, revealing a great deal about him to me.  He had been hurt by someone, badly, and still had not recovered.  I should step carefully around this one, for I could see in his eyes that he had murdered before.  But I saw something else in his eyes that spoke to me much more deeply and I could not ignore it.

“No, I feel no need to do any of those things,” I said as I smiled at him.  “I do not fear death, nor you either, though you think I should.”

He had moved quicker than my eye could follow and was standing only an inch from me.  He was very tall and had to lean down to look in my face.  I know I would have been dead in that moment if he wished it.  “Indeed, you should,” he hissed in my face, “for I have killed before and will again.”  I could feel his breath on my cheeks and then I knew for certain he was not a Ghost.  

“So I see in your eyes.  But I see something else there as well, something more important and deeper than any need to kill.”

“And what is that?”

“Loneliness.”  I made the word blunt and ugly.  He was not the only one who could do tricks with his voice.  The silence was thick and he drew back from me as if I had physically struck him.  Seconds ticked by as we stood there staring at each other, him with fear in his eyes.  Finally, I gently broke our stare down.  “How long has it been since someone spoke to you like a human being, not a Ghost?  How long since someone did not scream, or run, or plead for mercy?”

He turned away from me and hunched over like a wounded thing, one long and elegant hand supporting his weight against the side of the staircase.  My intuition had struck home, but what would this cost me?  My life?  I had gone this far and could not back out.  Possibly the only way to survive this encounter would be to see it through as I had started it, with courage and kindness.  So I arranged my face in a way of greeting and spoke again.  “My name is Sorcha and I’m pleased to meet you, though I could wish it were under better circumstances.”

The silence stretched on, and I cursed myself under my breath.  Wrong move, Sorcha!  Oh well, it’s been a good life!  But after some minutes, he had still made no move or sound, either to kill me, or otherwise.  Finally, I could bear the silence no more, nor his pained posture, and spoke what I felt sure would be my last words.  I stepped around in front of him, very quietly, and ducked my head to look into his face.  “Monsieur, are you all right?”

His shoulders started heaving, silently, and I feared he was crying.  What on earth would I do if this strange person were weeping in front of me?  But soon a sound came from his lips, the most horrible and mirthless laughter I had ever heard.  All at once he stood back upright, his cloak swirling about him dramatically, and his eyes blazing.  Here it comes I though, and closed my eyes for the end.

“All right?  All right!!!  My dear child, I have never been all right!”  And his bitter laughter rang all the louder, all the more cruelly.  I opened my eyes, feeling no blow.  His hideous laughter was deafening, and I’m sure that Mimi, somewhere far above heard it, and felt satisfaction for what she thought was my death knell.

All at once, it stopped and I chanced another look into his eyes.  For all the anger just displayed, they were terribly sad.  He sighed, re-settling himself into calmness.  “Sorcha, I wish you had not told me your name.  I find it much more distressing to kill people I know, and now I shall be out of sorts for a week!”  And he drew a long slim knife, a stiletto, and took a step towards me.  Despite the knife and threats of my imminent doom he did not really look threatening, but more as if he were bored.

The path to the stairs was clear, and I figured he would not chase me above the stage and risk being seen.  I could probably make it.  I tensed to spring when a lightning bolt of realization struck me.  He wants me to run!  He does not want to kill me, probably won’t.  Is this some strange type of test?  Well, then, Monsieur Ghost, you have indeed asked for it!

I said, without the least bit of pleading in my voice, “Don’t kill me.”

“Ah, now that threat is imminent you plead for your life.  I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that, my dear!”  He advanced another step.

“I didn’t plead, I suggested!” I said with disgust.  “If you don’t want to kill me, then don’t.  No one is forcing your hand.”

He stopped dead and the hand with the knife lowered.  He seemed ready to discuss it.  “Are you actually suggesting that I should just let you go?  But what would that do to the reputation of the Ghost?  I manage to live by inspiring fear and if I just let you go, give you your freedom, that would take it all away.  No, I’m sorry, my dear, but you must die.”  He advanced again.

“I am certainly not expecting you to just give me my freedom, you don’t get something for nothing, and I have no illusions about the fact that my life is in your hands just now.  And I certainly do not beg for charity.  If I want my life or freedom back, I must give you something.   I suggest a trade.”

He stopped up short again, this time truly amazed.  I had finally piqued his interest.  “A trade?” he said mildly.  He toyed with the blade, twirling it against his fingers.  “And what would a waifish, lost girl like you have to trade to me that I would be the least interested in?”

I smiled, sure I had him hooked.  “Companionship, company and conversation with a person who isn’t petrified of you.  When you tire of my presence, I leave through some back route, no one at the opera ever sees me again and your ‘reputation’ is preserved,” I said pertly.

“Interesting idea,” he murmured, with a feline smile, “but I’m afraid that an afternoon is simply not worth a life.”  He flipped the knife deftly in the air, caught it by the hilt and took another step forward.  Only two steps from me, this was my last chance.  I was a split second away from running up the steps when I saw his eyes again.  And that terrible loneliness, that raw anguish of someone who has never been cared for in his life.  I didn’t know what this man’s story was, but I was not going to flee if I could possibly heal the least bit of that pain I could see.  I’ve been there myself.

One step away.  “Have you a place I can sleep, then?”  He lowered the knife again and cocked his head at me.

“Sleep?  What’s this nonsense?  There’s a guest room in my house, but that doesn’t have anything to do with this,” he replied, gesturing with the knife.

I smiled triumphantly.  “A week!  A week, and then we’ll see.”

His eyebrows, or the one I could see, lowered in confusion.  “What are you babbling about, you crazy girl?”

“Is a week worth my life, Monsieur?  I will stay with you a week and keep you company.  I will remain within any bounds you set for me, be sweet and amusing, and be companionship for you.  I have many tales of my extensive travels that are quite amusing, and I can also be silent, if you so wish.  What do you think?” I asked about my proposal.

He seemed stunned and opened and closed his mouth several times with no sounds coming forth.

“Or have you never had a house guest?” I gently teased, certain that my danger was passed.

“Of course I have!” he snapped.  “Now have I heard you right?  Did you just offer to spend a week in the home of the man who has spent the past several minutes threatening to kill you?  Are you mad?”

“I’ve been accused of it, yes,” I laughed.  “But, Monsieur, I’m sure that if you truly wanted me killed, it would not matter if I were in your house, or locked in a high security jail on the other side of Paris.  Soon after you decided on the plan, I would be dead.  Am I wrong?”  I looked pointedly at the knife which was dangling innocuously from his hand.

He looked back and forth between myself and the knife wryly, and put it in its sheath with a deep sigh.  “No, you are not wrong.  You would truly stay with me a week, even though you know you need not trade that for your life?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head incredulously.  “You will be limited to inside my house, then.  It should be comfortable enough, even for a wandering soul like yourself.”  A small smile of genuine pleasantry played about the corners of his mouth, which I’m sure he was not accustomed to.

“Very well then.”  I put my hand over my heart.  “I swear, by all the Gods, that for the next week, I will not leave the confines of your house, save with your permission, with you, or in an emergency or accident.  Satisfactory?”

“Quite, my dear,” he said, seeming a little stupefied at my formality.  He shook himself, as if attempting to wake from a dream, stared at me a moment and then extended his hand towards the darkness.  “Shall we go Sorcha?”

“A moment.  You know my name, but I don’t know yours.  I can’t just call you Monsieur for a week, and I’m not going to call you Ghost.  How should I call you?”

“Erik.  My name is Erik.”  He turned on his heel and stalked into the darkness.  I was well pressed to keep up with his long strides.