At my death threat, Mimi grabbed at the younger girl’s hand to tug on her, but despite the beating she had already taken, that younger girl refused to be moved.

“We must get out of here, now!  Please, come with me, quickly!”  Mimi tugged at the other girl futilely, and tired of the older woman’s pestering, the girl eventually shook her off.

“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,” the girl said haughtily.   I chuckled under my breath, sure that over the ragged, terrified breathing of Mimi, I would not be heard.  This young woman may not be of gypsy blood or temperament, but I could see that she had their fierce soul and would never be scared easily, if at all.

“No, you don’t understand, he’s the Ghost, not a man.  He will kill you if we don’t flee now!”  Mimi’s feeble protests were beginning to get on my nerves.  That girl had greater patience with the woman than I ever would have, and rather than striking her or screaming at her, the girl gave her a rather gentle shove towards the stairs.

“Go then, if you’re so afraid.  I have nothing to fear from Ghosts, nor death for that matter.”  For some reason these simple calm words flooded my heart with a strange sensation.  Fear, or excitement?  Fear!  What have I to fear from anyone, much less this girl!

“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!” shrieked Mimi as she fled up the stairs.  The girl paid her no mind and turned away from the lighted staircase as soon as Mimi left sight. 

Well, now what, Erik? I asked myself as I watched the girl gaze steadily into the gloom.  I worked my way around her, silently.  I really hadn’t worked out my plan past getting her below the stage.

“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!” she was facing directly away from where I was standing, but I could still hear her words clearly.  Her impertinence was very amusing to me, and I figured there could be no harm in playing along with her for a while.

“And what if there’s nothing to see?  I am a Ghost after all, or so says Mimi.”

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

“Oh?”  I couldn’t wait to hear why she thought this.

“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.”  And she began to walk unescorted further into my realm.

Interesting or not, her impudence was sparking my temper and I was tiring of this game that led nowhere.  I stopped bouncing my voice from the walls and let her hear me from right behind her as I leapt quietly up onto the stairs.  “Turn behind you, then, and see!  Let us see how fearless you really are.”

I let the light behind me blind her dimly-adjusted eyes as she squinted and tried to make out details of my form.  After a few seconds, I descended the stairs and stood proudly just beyond the pool of light cast from the stage.

She was regarding me with the strangest expression on her face, somewhere between wonder and concentration.  It seemed more as if she were looking through my body and gazing on my very soul.  She noted my mask without comment or change in that strange regard.  Just as her silent, clam observation was becoming disturbing to me, she moved to break the tension.  By way of greeting, she executed a graceful, shallow bow with her hand on her stomach and her eyes never leaving my face.  It was the most civil gesture I had ever seen.  It almost made me forget I supposed to be frightening this girl out of her wits.

“What, no screaming, no running, no pleading for your life?  You are either very brave or very foolish, for you look on your death.”  Surprise made my voice harsher than I had intended, as well as finishing rousing my anger.

“No, I feel no need to do any of those things,” she replied smiling calmly.  “I do not fear death, nor you either, though you think I should.”

Her calmness provoked me, as well as her ability to swiftly make me reveal myself.  Who is this child to think she can escape from the Ghost unharmed?  And what fool was I for thinking her worth my time.  She must go, now.   I swooped forward with all speed, stopping only inches from her motionless stance.  I leaned down and spoke right to her face, my eyes willing her to leave with all I had.  “Indeed, you should, for I have killed before and will again.”

“So I see in your eyes.  But I see something else there as well, something more important and deeper than any need to kill.”  Damn, who was this child who would not flee from my anger?  She must be made to leave.  Even in my anger, I had no desire to kill her.  She was different than any other human being, though in the end, I knew she would act no different towards me than the others had.  Still, she was precious and not meant to be destroyed by my hand.

“And what is that?” I asked, foolishly.

“Loneliness.”  I had never heard a crueler or truer word.  All my anger fled in an instant of clarity.  My God, this child can see into my soul!  Her simple honesty struck me to the core and I had to lean away from her.  I stepped back and watched her warily, silent and tense.  She regarded me with the same warm concern that had animated her face since I stepped out of the light.  Finally, it was with all kindness that she said, “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?”

My own words cam back at me not with anger as I had said them, but with kindness, and I had to turn away from the girl.  I leaned my weight against the stairs, neverminding the light pouring down from above like a waterfall.  Let it drown me, then.  All my loneliness is only my own fault.  I stared at the patterns of dust in the floor, trying to re-piece the bitter calm I had lived in for so long.  Then, that agonizingly kind voice thrust more daggers into my peace.  “My name is Sorcha and I’m pleased to meet you, though I could wish it were under better circumstances.”

Sorcha.  Is that the name of and angel or a demon?  Or just a witch?  Why doesn’t she flee, or at least show fear.  I struggled to come back to myself, to understand what was happening.  The gentleman in me tried to make a civil reply, but the monster in me held me silent.  And the man I was struggled with renewed emotions of isolation and abandonment.  I had felt them all along, but they had been covered over with bitterness and anger.  This simple conversation from a girl named Sorcha had scraped all that away and they paralyzed me again.  I feel would have remained paralyzed there forever if she had not spoken another time.

“Monsieur, are you all right?”

Such genuine concern shown for me was ridiculous!  I never in my life had been all right.  The bitterness of the irony brought me back to myself and my sense of humor.  I began to laugh, silently at first but it rolled out of my, louder and louder, until the whole auditorium and beyond shook with its echoes.  And before me, this precocious girl was showing her first hint of fear, but only a hint on a face settled in resignation.  Her eyes were closed and I knew she waited for me to kill her.  Instead, I only flooded her with my bitterness. 

“All right?  All right!!!  My dear child, I have never been all right!”  And I began to laugh again, louder than before, simply enjoying the feel of my voice reverberating in the space.  It was indeed a sound worthy of a Phantom, or a Ghost.  My amusement stopped abruptly at the thought.  Sorcha knew I was not a ghost.  She must be gotten rid of now, by any means, though I still did not want to kill her.  For her own good and mine I must frighten her away though I wish she could stay, and perhaps speak with me a while longer.  But I resigned myself to a solitary life long ago and the last time I tried to change that I . . . I could not bring myself to think of Madeline and what her leaving had cost me.

“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!”  I pulled my stiletto from my hip and began walking slowly towards her, my eyes urging her to run.  She had plenty of time and my pursuit would only be half hearted anyway.

But she just stood there looking at me, and finally said, “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!”  I stepped forward again, wondering if Sorcha was really as intelligent as I had thought.  Are you going to do the smart thing and run, or are you going to debate with me, standing there until you are killed like a slaughterhouse animal?

Apparently, she wanted to debate.  “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.”

She did have a strange point I had never considered before.  I could just not bother with her at all, turn my back and walk away.  But all the others lived in fear of me, and that’s what kept them in line.  As much as I wanted to leave her entirely be, I just could not.  “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.”  I began my inexorably slow advancement 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.”

A trade?  I was completely dumbfounded.  This Sorcha truly was a unique girl.  It couldn’t hurt to listen to her idea, strange as it was.  “A trade?” I said, trying to feign disinterest.  I also flipped the knife around so it was not immediately threatening her and played with it.  “And what would a waifish, lost girl like you have to trade to me that I would be the least interested in?”

She grinned that strange grin at me again.  “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,” she said brightly, as if suggesting a picnic.

Did this girl have any idea who she was talking to?  I was tempted to take her offer, but I knew that just an afternoon of company would leave me lonelier than before.  “Interesting idea, but I’m afraid that an afternoon is simply not worth a life.” 

I flipped the knife around blade front and began walking forward again.  I was only two steps from her and she would not run.  If she doesn’t run, I’m going to have to kill her.  Pity.  I was already resigning myself to her fate, even as her pale eyes caught mine and widened with some unknown emotion, still not fear.

One step away I raised the knife in the air, preparing for the first strike.  Good-bye, Sorcha. 

“Have you a place I can sleep, then?”  It was such an absurd question coming from the girl second from being stabbed to death by the opera Ghost that I actually lowered the knife and looked at her, confused.

“Sleep?  What’s this nonsense?  There’s a guest room in my house,” it had been for Madeline, and she had slept there only a few times, always with the bolt shot firmly home.  She truly must have thought me a monster if she was afraid I would come disturb her in any way while she was sleeping, much less the way she feared.  “But that doesn’t have anything to do with this.”  I waved the knife under her nose, making a last attempt to frighten her away.

But, instead, she grinned.  “A week!  A week, and then we’ll see.”

What?  Maybe Sorcha wasn’t brave, just mad.  “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?”

She was offering to spend a week with me, in my home, of her own free will.  Or close enough to it.  I had never even conceived of such a thing, not even dreamed it of Madeline while she still loved me.  I tried to speak but no words came forth.

“Or have you never had a house guest?”  At her impudence I regained my faculties.

“Of course I have!” I replied quickly.  “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,” she laughed freely, a magical and musical sound.  “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 followed her gaze to the knife in my hand, dangling unthreateningly, almost dropped in my shock and confusion.  She knew!  She knew I didn’t really want to kill her, but she would have stood there and been killed anyway!

I looked at the knife for a moment, then back at her, then the knife and heaved a sigh as I put it away.  I seemed to have been backed into a corner, but I could still let her go.  “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.”

She was indeed willing to stay with me!  Life was yet strange and wonderful.  I shook my head and decided she would be safe enough wandering about my home.  Madeline had been allowed into every room, and so would this girl.  Erik, you are too old to be taking on young girls as house guests.  “You will be limited to inside my house, then.  It should be comfortable enough, even for a wandering soul like yourself.”  My face contorted in a strange way, though pleasant.  Yes, a smile, that was it.

“Very well then.”  She placed her hand over her 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.”  Her formal oath shook me a little and I wondered if I was not letting some spirit, rather than a human being into my house.  Erik, what have you to fear, you are a Ghost yourself!  I could hear the faint shufflings of timid Opera House employees goading each other towards the stage above us.  They had finally worked up enough courage to see if the gypsy girl had survived her misadventure.  “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.”  Giving my name to her had seemed very natural, but somehow I felt exposed after doing so.  I hurried off leaving her to follow me if she could in the labyrinth.

She muttered something to herself and hurried to keep up.  For my own part, I was lost in my own thoughts and had to remind myself she was there so as not to entirely lose her.

I had accepted her offer of company before I was even sure I wanted it.  Once she left after a week, would I not feel the loss of companionship much more than after a single afternoon?  And did I even want her down there in the first place?  My home had been undisturbed by outsiders since Madeline had left it the last time and I thought I was content, now, alone.

Also, what would I do with her for a week?  Would we sit in chairs on the opposite sides of my living room, watching each other while my fireplace roared in the silence?  Perhaps she was musical and could look at my compositions, or even sing.  Or, if I were unlucky (as I frequently was), she would be crude and unmannered, despite her grace.  What does Sorcha like to eat? I found myself wondering, absently, realizing that I would have to leave her at my home, alone, at least once as I went out for supplies.

And the foremost concern in my mind was ensuring the security of my home.  She must not be able to tell anyone where to find it once she left it.  While I did not want to blindfold her, I did want to confuse her.  I had set out at a brisk pace that I thought she might have difficulty matching.  She would be working so hard to keep me in sight that she would not have time to note the route we were taking.

To my surprise, she kept up rather well.  She had said however that she had been traveling for some months, so she was probably used to much walking.

Eventually, I slowed my pace when I realized her footsteps behind me were getting uneven and starting to sound further back.  Her breathing was coming heavier as well.  Perhaps she had just been overexerting herself to keep up.  I glanced back at her over my shoulder and immediately felt guilty.  Sorcha was limping along bravely, one arm wrapped around her ribs and a look of painful determination on her face.  There was a smear of dried blood on her cheek from a cut she sustained in her second fall.

You’re a monster, Erik.  The girl has tumbled down the stairs in a way that would kill some people, you tripped her up with a rope and, her life has been threatened.  She’s probably got broken ribs and you’re worried about keeping her from knowing where your house is.  She probably wouldn’t tell if she did know.

But, she wasn’t asking me to slow down either.  I don’t know if it was pride or stubbornness that kept her from asking for ease, but I gradually decreased my pace to just a little swifter than normal walking.  I was rewarded some minutes later by hearing her slower breaths.

Still concerned about protecting my house I set upon a roundabout and wandering route through the great vaults of scenery, hoping to get her hopelessly lost.  We had been walking for perhaps a quarter of an hour in the fourth cellar when she spoke.

“Erik, how many more times are we going to walk past that ‘Carmen” set?”

I stopped and turned around.  Surely enough she was standing at the base of a giant fountain that was the centerpiece of the factory scene.

“How on earth did you know that thing was from ‘Carmen’?” I asked her.

Despite the pain on her face, she flashed her bright smile at me again.  “It says ‘Carmen” on the toggles of this flat back here.  Actually it says it on all of them!”

“Why would you even notice that?”

“Because, I’ve worked behind the scenes in theatres since I was a child!”  Her laughter echoed through the scenery and came back to us seconds later.

Casting a last glance at the flat she had been inspecting she limped over to me with a serious expression on her face.  “If you’re trying to get me lost, in the scenery is not the best place to try.  Thanks to your little tour, I probably have a better mental map of where things are in here than anyone upstairs does!”

I just sighed.  What could I say to her accusations?  I had threatened her life, but she trusted me with it.  She had shown me nothing but kindness and I feared her.

      Again, as if she read my thoughts, she spoke with utmost solemnity.  “Don’t worry that I’ll tell anyone where you live down here.  I wouldn’t.”  And she put her hand over her heart again.  “I swear none shall know the location of your home from my lips.”

“Thank you,” I replied.  I was sure I could trust Sorcha’s vows, so seriously did she make them.  “Come on, it’s not far now.”  I stepped behind one of the ‘Carmen’ flats to the staircase hidden there.

As she followed me I asked “Carpenter?”  I found myself hoping she had been something else, though I doubted it.  I could hardly believe that this beautiful free spirit could swing a hammer like the ill-mannered louts who built the Opera’s scenery.

Her only response was a laugh that bounced down the stair corridor and preceded us to the lake.