THE MUSIC OF THE NIGHT

By Midnight Rose 1994

Author’s note: I love Beauty and the Beast and I love the Broadway Phantom of the Opera.  So, allow me one pure flight of fancy that combines the two.  My tunnels are full of possibilities and magic.

Part 1

---

“Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera: a mystery never fully explained…Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination!”

---Auctioneer, Prologue

***

“. . . And listen to the music of the night. ”

---Phantom, Act one, Scene Five. 

 

The night, the time of darkness between dusk and dawn, a realm of silence and shadows avoided by those who cling only to the light. His world, his stolen hours to touch an alien land---so briefly---forbidden to his kind by fate.  The night is his day, the moon and stars his nocturnal sun. Back alleys and forgotten lanes serve as his boardwalk and he prowls the streets where others fear to tread under an eclipsed sky.  

The shadows are his welcome companions, concealing him in their ebony cloaks as he peers at the life of light just beyond his reach. He is no more then a shadow himself, an imagined movement just within the nocturnal gloom.  

He moves cautiously along his chosen path, alert to every sound around him. His booted feet tread soundless among the refuse and stench of a bustling city’s cast-offs. Rancid air sandwiched between the closely packed skyscrapers is left undisturbed by even the strongest gale swirling high above. The most sensitive of senses rebel against the suffocating rank.  

A rusted ladder up the weathered bricks is his escape to the moving air, an air of acidic life mixed with the faint fragrant odor of autumn foliage. In his jungle of concrete, brick, and stone, he chooses his perch, settles his massive frame, and watches the quieting city move below him, dispassionately.  

All does not slumber in the night. The eternal glow of Broadway cuts across the darkened skyline far across the channel. Closer, the door of a corner bar opens beneath a blinking neon sign and roughly expels the last of its drunken patrons into the cold street in a brash of curses. The haggard bums stagger away to wait for a dawn of head-splitting hangovers at their various dwellings, be it apartment, hallway, doorstep, or alley floor. A lone taxi lumbers up the street dodging potholes, stopping a moment to discharge its paid fare before moving on to safer hunting grounds. A patrol car, lights flashing and siren wailing, runs through a nearby intersection on its way to a call. Down the same street an elderly woman limps clutching a precious bag of meager groceries. Their presence on the street below is of no concern to him.  

The dancing feet and laughing voices of two youth become still in the dark alley below as they spy an opportunity in an innocent and unsuspecting prey. Anger of pending, unprovoked violence burns like a redness in his mind and his body instinctively readies to confront and fight for the protection of the feeble. As the hunters close in and terrorize their petrified quarry, an unearthly roar of raging fury and savage thunder rolls and echoes, filling the night stillness with unimagined doom. The predators fall back and run for their own lives, death’s voice ringing in their ears and minds.  

Silence returns and the shadows are still once more.  

***

“Here I bring the finished score. ”

---Phantom, Act two, Scene One. 

 

Nine weeks before the annual celebration of Winterfest, the children and young adults were assembled in Vincent’s chamber to decide on the play that they wished to present at the winter festival.  

“We must agree on one story,” Vincent reminded the quarreling factions from his neutral perch atop the antique trunk at the foot of his elegantly craved bed. Heavy burgundy curtains hung behind him swept to one side in an arc and curled around abedpost to puddle on the floor, the color setting off his golden mane in majestic splendor.  

The children had dried on the idea of another Shakespearean play. They had presented a children’s version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream last year---too many thee’s and thou’s the main complaint. A Christmas Carol was exhausted the year before; excerpts of Romeo and Juliet presented before that and three years ago, Asop’s Fables were done through the expressive art of mime. The girls wanted to do a fairytale: Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzal, or Beauty and the Beast. The boys, on the other hand, were set on Robin Hood, King Authur, The Three Musketeers, or Tom Sawyer.  

Some of the older teenagers and young adults seemed to have given up on the annual situation and had retreated to the quieter Long Chamber beyond the brilliant half-circle of stained glass embedded in the wall of Vincent’s chamber to await the outcome.  

Finally, the patient golden lion-man quieted the warring sides with a firm announcement. “No fairytales or common classics this year. We should choose something different. ”

The children moaned.  “Different!”

“You must think of our audience and present something that they will enjoy---surprise them with something unexpected from us,” Vincent challenged the sea of young, eager faces.  

“What else is out there, Vincent,” Kipper asked, his prospects of playing Robin Hood having now disappeared.  

“There are plenty of stories out there,” Vincent returned to the tall youth of sixteen. The beloved giant rose from the trunk and waded through the children sitting on the floor to his collection of varied literature in a narrow bookcase tucked beneath the out-stretched arm of his marble caryatid. A clawed finger reverently fingered the time worn bindings. “May I suggest something more mature than fairytales?” 

“Like what?The Tempest,” said Jeremy, a lad of fifteen.  

“No Shakespeare, please,” Samantha groaned from under her breath in a stage whisper.  

Vincent shook his bushy head.   “No, The Tempest is too dark for Winterfest. ”

“The Raven,” ten-year-old Eric crowed twisting his face in mock terror.  “Edgar Allen Poe. ”

“I do not think our audience will appreciate gothic horror…We can save Poe for Halloween,” Vincent said.  

“Old Man and the Sea or Moby Dick, suggested Luis with a mischievous grin lighting up his Hispanic features.  

“Not enough characters or action. ” Vincent could see that this train of thought was leading to silly suggestions.  

“Robinson Crusoe. ”

“The Three Musketeers. ” 

“The Ride of Paul Revere. ”

“You may have something there, Jeffery. Dramatic poetry such as Paul Revere or Old Ironsides,” Vincent said.  

“The Piper Piper of Hamlin,” chirped one of the smaller urchins.  

Samantha was genuinely interested.  “How do you act out poetry?” 

“Recite it with all your heart and emotion behind every word,” Vincent explained.  “You must tell the story or paint a picture that lets your listeners see and feel your experience…Perhaps we could present a collection of poetry showing dramatic, comic, and romantic moods. ”

Romantic.  The boys hated that idea.  

Vincent and the children were back at square one. The children were having more fun coming up with half-serious suggestions---the more unlikely to be chosen the better.  

Paul, was the underground community’s resident music teacher, spoke up over the children’s lively chatter from where he stood in the upper entrance of Vincent’s chamber. He was a willowy middle-aged man, his thin dark hair balding on top.  “How about a concert highlighting the works of Bach, Beethoven, Brams, and Chopin?Many of the children and adults play one or more instruments. ” 

Looking up at Paul, the tawny leonine man shrugged.  At this point the suggestion was a good alternative if the children could not decide.  He did not like to take the choice away from them if he did not have too. “We present some music every year…”

“What about a musical?”All heads turned to look at Jamie standing in the lower doorway of Vincent’s crowded chamber.  

“O-klahoma!” sang one of the children and the others joined in to sing the title song.  

Jamie moved to the small round table in the center of Vincent’s room, followed by Mouse, Rebecca, and Will, who set the thick stack of paper he carried on the worn oak top.  

“No,” frowned Rebecca.  She waited patiently for the singing to die down. “How about Phantom of the Opera?”

There was a hush as the sea of faces broke into smiles and approving nods.  

“The Broadway version, I assume,” confirmed Vincent. This was a splendid idea, if not a very large one.  

“Yes,” beamed Jamie, “Rebecca, Will, and I have spent many nights below the Majestic Theatre coping down the dialogue and songs. ” She gestured to the stack of paper.  

Vincent approached the loose-leaf pile and carefully thumbed through the neat handwritten pages on the back of used business stock.  

A buzzing of “Say yes, Vincent.  We can do it. We’ll work hard, we promise. ” Surrounded him as he pondered the size of the project. Almost everyone had seen---listened to the award-winning play more that once; he and Catherine had gone to listen four times.  

Vincent also knew that Catherine had a couple of cassettes with all the principle music from the opera and a book with the complete libretto. Resources for sets and props were meager, yet vast considering the Tunnel resident’s creativity, and before him lay a sea of anticipating faces of more-than-willing participants.  

“Phantom of the Opera it is. ”

Everyone cheered.  

“Each of you realize this is a huge project to have ready to present in nine weeks. We will need everyone’s help and cooperation in preparing the Great Hall with sets and props. Dialogue must be memorized and movements choreographed to the music. ” Vincent said. “We should set our goal to honor the Opera by doing an equal, if not better presentation as the one Above. ”

Rising to Vincent’s challenge, the players vowed to put all their time and energy into the rehearsals for the next nine weeks.  

***

“But we have no cast. ”

---Andre, Act One, Scene Eight. 

 

There was plenty of careful planning to do. Vincent dismissed the children and sat down with Jamie, Rebecca, Will, Mouse, and Paul for the first Director’s meeting. The list of characters needed to be filled; sets and props built; costumes made; rehearsals scheduled, and music requirements…the list was endless.  All this and more was needed to transform a stack of recycled paper into a Winterfest presentation.  

Catherine walked in on this meeting after another hectic day in the bullpen of the DA’s office. “I’m sorry…am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Vincent smiled; his deep blue eyes sparkled with love for his beautiful wife. “We were just beginning to tackle the major parts of the Winterfest play. ”

Catherine dumped her briefcase and overcoat on the desk in the corner of Vincent’s chamber, then moved to her leonine husband’s side. “What are we doing this year. ”Catherine inquired before leaning down and giving Vincent a quick kiss. The five friends shyly smiled at each other, to witness an intimate moment between the couple was rare.  

“Phantom of the Opera,” Mouse replied, answering Catherine’s question and breaking the romantic mood. Jamie bumped him in the ribs and frowned. Innocent Mouse had no idea why she did that, but did not pursue the matter.  

“The Broadway musical?” Catherine settled herself on the arm of Vincent’s ornately carved, high-backed chair and in the circle of his strong embrace.  

Will proudly slapped the stack of paper. “It’s all here-every word and note. ”

Catherine grinned as she met Jamie’s and Rebecca’s equally proud gaze. “You guys must have worked very hard. ”

“Believe me, it was a maddening task,” Rebecca said, “What we have failed to dictate correctly or missed, Vincent can fill in. ” The tall, slim candlemaker winked at her childhood friend.  

The beloved head of wild gold tilted in acknowledgement. His ability to hear something once and recite it back without error was renown in the tunnels.  

“Who will play the main characters?” Catherine asked.  

“We were just getting to that,” Vincent said. He leaned forward to ready his pen and paper, careful not to upset his wife’s perch on the right arm of his chair.  

He addressed the trio of script copiers. “This is your musical…What have you envisioned for your cast?”

Rebecca’s eyes darted to her two cohorts and she said hesitantly, “We thought that maybe the adults should present the play this year…Many of them are interested in doing some acting…You don’t think the children will mind?”

Vincent pondered this a moment.  “No,” he concluded, ”There are enough scenes that need extra cast and a chorus that can accommodate the children.  I also think the children will happily help us make scenery and props. ”

The young adults beamed and there was a collective sigh of relief as their main worry was put to rest.  

“Now that this matter is settled,” Vincent nodded with a tip of his golden head.  “Who do you have in mind for the principle characters?”

Without a moment’s hesitation; Jamie spoke for the trio. “Vincent, we would like you and Catherine to play the Phantom and Christine. ”The couple was speechless. Catherine was very flattered and blushed; Vincent shook his head in disbelief.  

“Please? You two would be perfect for the leads,” Will said. “It is our only choice. Vincent, you are the only one who could give the Phantom his passion and depth. Together, the chemistry between the two characters would be sensational. ”

“I’ve never done anything like this in my life…” Catherine breathed.  

“It will be fun,” Jamie assured. “Oh Catherine, you have a good voice. ”

“Not for Opera…”

“Listen,” Paul spoke up, “One of our Helpers, Lawrence Sheldon, sings with the New York Philharmonic Chorus. He had done some Opera pieces and gives voice lessons at the School of the Arts. If we ask him, I bet he would help us. ”

“He is a valuable resource…What do you think, Vincent?” Will asked.  

“Yes, we will definitely need his expertise. ” Vincent said thoughtfully. Vincent’s furrowed brow showed that he was unsure about taking on the Phantom role.  

Jamie was quick to notice that Catherine was game, but Vincent…“Vincent, please play the Phantom. ” She begged.  The others echoed her plead.  

Expectant faces waiting for his answer surrounded him; he hated to disappoint them. “I am flattered, “ Vincent began, “but I cannot sing…this is, after all, an opera. ”

“Vincent not have to sing,” Mouse exclaimed. He cowered when everyone turned to look at him. He shrugged and said quietly, “Voice beautiful…enough. ”

“Mouse is right,” Catherine agreed, wrapping her arms around Vincent’s thick neck. “Songs are no more that poetry set to music…and no one can recite poetry with more feeling than you, Love. ”

Vincent sighed heavily as he looked at his friends, and then a shy cock-eyed smile began to sneak across his leonine features showing the tip of a pearl canine.  “I will accept the role of the Phantom. However, I was really hoping for the role of Raul…after all, he gets the girl. ”

“Oh, Vincent,” Everyone moaned, knowing by the twinkle in his eye he was not serious.  

*

Now that the role of the Phantom and Christine were filled, the group’s attention turned to choosing who would play the other characters. Will, a young man of medium build and light Negro complexion chose to play Frimen, one of the Opera House managers. Kainin would be auditioned to play the other manager, Andre. Jamie loved the part of Carlotta, the House Diva and would play opposite Jeremy, Cullen’s full-time assistant who was built like a linebacker, the male opera lead, Piangi.  

Rebecca had some ballet training and chose to play Giry, the ballet mistress and cover the duties of schooling the ballet girls in the opera, played by the tunnel girls and Catherine. Samantha got the part of Giry’s daughter, Meg, and friend of Christine. Paul, appropriately, chose the role of Reyer, the chief repetiter in charge of rehearsals and music.  

Christine Daae’s love interest and the Phantom’s rival, Raoul, went to Michael, the young college student, Vincent and Catherine had helped when he first enrolled. He still had a boyish crush on the Catherine and fit the part.  

Rounding out the cast, Kipper would play the young eccentric stagehand, Buquet, who dies by the Phantom’s hand. Cullen agreed to fill the minor role of Piangi’s fellow actor. Pascal filled in for the old house owner, Lefovre. The Opera chorus and roles of the Opera’s fictitious productions consisted of the children and others who wanted a part in the production.  

Cullen and Will were given charge of coming up with scenery and props. Mary and Jamie would head up the choosing of costumes and securing fabrics for curtains and set linens. Mouse---no one would admit it to be a wise choice---was put in charge of lights and sound. He promised not to black out Manhattan.  

Vincent took his yearly role of chief director and oversaw the whole production to make sure everything went as planned. As in the years past, Vincent knew that everything would work out on the night of Winterfest and they would have great success, if he survived the ordeal in between. He only wished that they had more time.  There was much to be accomplished in nine weeks for a production as large as The Phantom of the Opera.  

Nothing more was said about Vincent not singing the role of the Phantom and for this he was grateful. He could not sing---that is, he had never tried to sing. He could hum and he did follow both melody and harmony parts with perfect pitch, but had never attempted to sing in full voice. As a child, Vincent had had a hard enough time learning to speak properly and the one time he remembered singing nursery rhymes with his peers they had laughed at his gritty, no tone notes. To be asked to sing, let alone, sing opera would be impossible. He was relieved the subject had been dropped.  

***

“Opera Ghost…Who the hell is he?”

---Firmen, Act One, Scene Eight.

 

Catherine pushed her way through the hustle and bustle of the downtown police station, a beehive of activity and barely controlled chaos. After spending the morning tracking down the arresting officers and collecting evidence reports in various over-loaded legal departments for a new abuse case, the rush in the DA’s office was comparably laid-back.  

The next-to-last person Catherine needed to get a statement from was Detective House, who assisted at the scene of the domestic violence, and then it was to the dungeons of the jailhouse to speak with the wife-beater and his lawyer.  

The detective department was a large room on the second floor filed with four parallel rows of six islands of battered, steel gray desks head to head. The outside wall with the only windows was glassed off into senior staff offices. On the back wall ran three copiers, four printing machines, and two fax lines---the raging beasts of the paper chase. The other two walls were a mix of doorways, filing cabinets, and a table holding the coffee maker pumping out a new batch of the famous office sludge and the empty remains of half-a-dozen donut and pizza boxes.  

Third row from the offices and four islands back, Catherine found Detective House at his cluttered desk; his mind buried in a stack of files pulled from an archive box sitting atop an already high stack of papers. Knowing House as she did, Catherine knew he would not appreciate her interrupting his train of thought. He was a gruff man, but beneath that brick exterior was the man who played Santa Clause every year at the Orphanage Police Christmas Party.  

“Detective House. ” When he looked up, Catherine was prepared to counter his grumbling.  Instead…

“Hallelujah!” House cried with a relieved smile. He quickly closed the yellow folder he was working on, capped his pen, and motioned for the pretty DA to have a seat.  

“Please sit down, Miss Chandler. What can I do for you?Anything you want. ”

Catherine stared at the hefty detective, who was showing the results of too many coffee and donut breakfasts around his middle and slick dark hair beginning to thin and gray. The man before her leaned back in his office chair and laced his fingers across his chest; she had his undivided attention.  

“Am I missing something…or are you in a very rare, very good mood. ”Catherine managed to spit out through a dumbfounded grin as she sank into the hard wooden chair beside the detective’s desk.  

“I am willing to help just about anyone right now. ” House grinned. He loosened his crooked tie even more.  

The detective’s partner, Ron McGee, came up behind Catherine and slid into his desk chair at the other island desk.  Tall, thin, and with a mop of unruly blonde curls, McGee was the opposite of House.  “House will do anything to get away from his bum case. ”

“Tell the whole world, McGee,” House bellowed.  

“What…did you do,” Catherine asked in a voice a mother would use to address her accused child. Her eyes danced. “Spit on the Chief’s new shoes?”

“No,” McGee volunteered, “House here lost the Rosewood case…seizing evidence without a warrant. ”

“I’m sorry,” Catherine replied.  Loosing a case on a Tech was infuriating to any law officer.  

“I can talk for myself, Ronny. ”The detective balled up a piece of paper and whipped it at his ribbing partner.  

“So, what do they have the department stooges wasting their time on?” Catherine asked McGee, leveling her green eyes at him. Partners always worked the same case and when one screws up the other suffers as well. McGee did not offer an answer perhaps too embarrassed by the topic. Bum cases were the unimportant odds and ends that everyone hated to clean up.  

“We are chasing ghosts,” House said dryly.  

“Ghosts!”

“Yea, there have been a number of unrelated reports of strange noises and shadows attacking criminals. It has been going on for years. ”

“Oh, really. ” Catherine raised an elegant eyebrow; only years of practice kept the bemused look on her face. She knew of only one shadow that thwarted the criminally minded---Vincent. He often prowled the streets at night, never looking for trouble, but would intervene if someone were in danger.  

“This box of files is full of unsolved mysteries and victims claims of perpetrators scared off or attacked by a shadow whose voice is like unimaginable roaring thunder. ” House talked with an air of sarcasm and plain disbelief. He did not take any of this seriously.  

“The Werewolf of New York City,” McGee laughed, “that is a nice title for a movie, uh. ”

“As you can see, McGee is not much help. ” House frowned and glared at his partner.  “We are just killing time until the dust settles…this rubbish is not worth the leg work. ”

“Happy hunting,” Catherine chirped. A half-hearted search meant that they would not waste their time looking for other leads.  

“Well, Miss Chandler, I know you are not here to listen to ghost stories,” House said sitting forward in his creaking office chair.  “What do you want to speak to me about?”

Catherine jumped right in.  “I am here about the domestic abuse case of Dana and Joseph Kenworth. McGee and you were the assisting detectives on the scene, correct…”

***

“Behold, she singing to bring down the chandelier!”

---Phantom, Act One, Scene Nine. 

 

A week later, the cast of the tunnel Winterfest production was assembled in the Great Hall around the long banquet tables. The vast room was lit by the glow of large, tabletop candelabras holding a dozen candles each; the air permeated with the scent of beeswax and sawdust.  

Cullen and the carpenters had already begun construction on the framework to support stage curtains that would be wrapped around the back of the stage area. It had been decided to use the whole chamber in the play, seating the audience in the middle of the action. The stairway that ran up one wall was a very useful feature to incorporate into the sets, as was an old, worn upright piano.  

Tonight was the first run-through of the whole play still in its script form. With Paul accompanying on the piano, each part was read or sung as instructed for the characters. Everyone had gone to listen to the Broadway production for three nights in a row to familiarize themselves with the cadence of the dialogue and music parts.  Many already knew the songs by heart.  Lawrence Sheldon was there to judge who would need some singing lessons and determine which music numbers would need the most attention. It all depended on the individual talents of the cast members. He did not expect opera voices, but good quality singing was possible.  

Jamie was waxing eloquently as Carlotta in Act One, where the Opera Company was presenting the Opera Il Muto. Carlotta had been warned by the Phantom not to play the part of the Countess. Neither she, nor the House managers took heed and went on with the play casting the chorus girl, Christine in the silent role of the page, Serafimo, dressed as a girl.  

Countess (Carlotta)

“Serafemo-away with this pretense!

You can not speak, but kiss me in my husband’s absence!

Poor fool, he makes me laugh!

Ha, Ha, Ha!

Time I tried to get a better, better half. ”

Countess & Chorus (Jamie & the children)

“Poor fool, he doesn’t know!

Ho, Ho, Ho!

If he knew the truth, he’d never, ever go!”

“Suddenly, from everywhere, we hear the voice of the Phantom,” Paul said as the visual narrator.  

Phantom’s voice (Vincent)

“Did I not instruct box five was to be kept empty?!”

Meg (a terrified Samantha)

“He’s here: the Phantom of the Opera…”

Christine (Catherine)

“Its him…I know it…its him!”

Carlotta to Christine

“Your part is silent, little toad!”

“The Phantom has heard her,” Paul injected.  

Vincent sitting across the table from Jamie leaned forward, his elbow on the table, and recited.  

Phantom (Vincent)

“A toad madame? Perhaps it is you who are the toad…”

“Carlotta and, I, the Conductor confer and pick up the opening of the play scene,” read Paul. 

Countess (Carlotta)

“Serfemo, away with this pretense!

You can not speak, but kiss me in my ‘croak!’”

Vincent gave out a sinister laugh as the Phantom. Jamie could not keep from grinning. The lion-man leveled his dancing blue orbs at the young girl.  

Countess

“Poor fool, he makes me laugh-

Ha! Ha! Ha!

Croak! Croak! Croak!”

Jamie went into a fit of laugher. Vincent added to it when he laughed again as the Phantom was instructed to do in the script. There were smiles and chuckles from the cast when Vincent laughed yet again about the time Jamie regained her composure. This bit of good-natured fun brought the whole rehearsal to a halt---it was time for a break.  

Paul threw up his hands in the spirit of stage dramatics and sighed, “Everyone take a break. ”

Vincent pushed his chair back and stood up; he leaned his towering bulk forward over the table to gaze upon Jamie laughing hysterically in her chair. His deep-set eyes gleamed with merriment and Vincent had the most charming cock-eyed grin on his unique face.  His gaze still upon the poor girl, he reached above his lofty head and swung the crude wooden candle rack that hung from the ceiling. It was in its lowest position for lighting and would be raised aloft by ropes and pulleys.  

Vincent modified the Phantom’s next line.  “Behold, she is laughing to bring down the chandelier!”

“That’s it!” shouted Cullen over the hushed chatter and laughter spurred on by Jamie’s fit. “Vincent, you just solved the problem of the chandelier. ”

Vincent quickly scanned the system of ropes and pulleys working each of the eight wooden wheel candleholders suspended from the cathedral height ceiling.  

“We can move one over the stage area,” the leonine man said as Cullen came to his side. The two men stood eye to eye in height, but Cullen lacked Vincent’s massive size.  

“I have been racking my brain for a cheap, quick alternative to building one…and all I had to do was look up,” Cullen shook his head. “I cannot believe I overlooked the candle racks. ”

“We have never considered them in terms of chandeliers,” Vincent mused, patting Cullen on the back.  

Catherine, who had been sitting in a chair beside Vincent and listening to this exchange, rose and slipped an arm around her husband’s waist as she came up behind him. “We could drape Christmas tinsel on it to make it shimmer…”

“A very good idea. ” Vincent smiled. He turned around and leaned on the edge of the table as he wrapped his strong arms loosely around Catherine’s slim waist.  

“Electric lights would be much safer than candles,” Cullen said mostly to himself, rubbing the stubble of his chin. “Dropping lit candles and hot wax on the cast is too dangerous. I don’t want anyone to get burned. ”

“Electric lights are mentioned in the prologue…” Vincent replied. He was half-listening to Cullen because Catherine was lovingly arranging his unruly amber bangs---a gesture the Vincent enjoyed, warm, tender, and sparking with the passion flowing through their bond.  

“Strings of white Christmas lights would work,” Catherine suggested, then added with a giggle, “Mouse is going to blackout all of New York yet. ”

Cullen and Vincent chuckled.  

“No doubt we are setting him up for the opportunity,” Vincent nodded. “Mouse came to me today with his plans for some spotlights…Mouse has a hard time understanding the proper relationship between volts and circuits. Hopefully, the only blackout will be a blown bulb. ” 

Cullen laughed, “If we are lucky!”

 

Paul announced the break was over and the cast reassembled around the long table. Jamie warned Vincent to behave---and the read-through continued.  

At the end, Lawrence gave his professional opinion. He was very impressed by the singing talents of the people of the tiny underground community. He would focus his practice sessions upon teaching them to sing with clarity and proper pronunciation. Unfortunately, his time Below would be limited due to concert commitments during the busy Christmas season. Paul and Vincent would have to pick up the slack.  

Lawrence admitted Catherine was his biggest concern, the role of Christine was the largest role and the most demanding. It not only involved an enormous amount of singing but dance routines too. Christine, in the Broadway version of Phantom of the Opera was a member of the ballet. Catherine had much to memorize and had the least amount of time to prepare for her part. She would have to work on the role during every spare moment while balancing her full caseload at work.  

***

“Christine Daae could sing it, Sir. ”

“The chorus girl?”

“Let her sing for you, Monsieur, she has been well taught. ”

---Meg,Rayer, Giry, Act One, Scene One. 

 

Catherine met Lawrence, Paul, and Vincent in the Music chamber, where Rolly’s piano resided, the very next evening. They concentrated on Christine’s principle songs.  

Catherine was on her fifth piece of music for the evening. The scene was Scene Five in the Second Act, the graveyard where Christine’s father was buried and she had come to him for guidance. Paul played the accompaniment on the piano.  

Christine:

“Wishing you were somehow here again…

Knowing we must say good-bye…

Try to forgive…

Teach me to live…

Give me the strength to try…”

 

“No more memories,

No more silent tears…

No more gazing across the wasted years…

Help me say good-bye. ”

“Phantom,” Lawrence cued softly to Vincent. With Catherine singing and Vincent speaking together, it was all a matter of timing to make it sound right. The strange duet sounded a bit odd but it worked, Vincent could speak on pitch and had easily picked up a poetic, singsong manner of speaking. Lawrence marveled at Vincent’s talent and the beautiful deep, rich tones in his velvet voice. He could only imagine how Vincent would sound singing in full voice; it would be magnificent, of that he was sure.  

Phantom

“Wandering child…

so lost…

so helpless…

yearning for my guidance…”

Christine answers the very soft and enticing voice.  

Christine:

“Angel…or father…

friend…or Phantom…

Who is it there, staring…”

Phantom

“Have you forgotten your Angel?”

Christine

“Angel…oh, speak…

What endless longings echo in this whisper. ”

 

Caught up in the mood of the scene, Vincent turned and faced Catherine and spoke to her face to face as Christine was drawn toward the Phantom by his voice alone. The chemistry between the special couple was evident even this early in the rehearsals.  

Phantom

“Too long you’ve wandered in winter…”

Lawrence joined in to cover Raoul’s line.  

Raoul:

“Once again she is his…”

Christine:

“Wildly my mind beats against you…”

Phantom

“You resist…”

Then the Phantom and Christine sing together. 

“Yet your/ the soul obeys. . ”

“Stop. ” Paul said when Vincent came in on the line late.  

“I am sorry,” the leonine man whispered to Catherine as she lightly touched him on the arm.  

“Once again from Christine’s last line,” Lawrence prompted. Paul picked up the melody from Raoul’s line and the couple repeated the verses again.  This time Catherine’s voice faltered. She laughed it off, leaning wearily against Vincent’s broad chest as his arm came around her waist. “A toad, madam?” she laughed.  

“I think it is time to quit for tonight,” Lawrence said kneading his brow as a headache was taking hold. “What time is it?”

“10:30 p. m. ” Paul answered popping out his pocket watch. “It is late…I have night-watch at Post 12.  Now. ”He quickly gathered up the sheet music and stuffed it into a cloth folder. “Good-night, all…thank you for your help, Lawrence. ”

“You’re welcome, any time,” Lawrence called after the quickly retreating Paul.  

“I’ll walk you Topside,” Vincent said. Lawrence nodded as he gathered his notes.  

Vincent turned to his weary wife, “Will you be joining us…Angel?”

Catherine stifled a yawn, “I better not. I have a couple of testimony summaries to write before I can call it a night. ”

“Don’t stay up too long,” Lawrence warned, “The first part of your body to suffer when you are tired is your voice. Catherine, you have a wonderful, soprano voice and you must be careful not to strain it with over-zealous practicing. Please, take it easy. ”

“Don’t worry, I will take care of myself,” Catherine sighed. She shook Lawrence’s hand. “Thank you for your help. ”

“You are more than welcome. ” Lawrence replied as he donned his overcoat and Vincent settled his dusty black cloak upon his broad shoulders. He turned to Vincent, ”I will be meeting Richard Sharratti, the sound operator for Broadway’s Phantom, for lunch tomorrow. We were college roommates. I am going to ask him for a copy of the canned music; he owes me a favor. ”

“That reminds me,” Catherine interrupted, “I have tapes of the principle music at home. I can make some copies to aid in memorizing the songs down here…I also want to copy off the libretto from a book I have so the Director can have his own master copy. ”She winked at her tall, majestic lifemate as she moved to the doorway in front of him.  

Vincent gave her a departing hug. “I will not be long,” he promised.  

He watched her walk away toward their chamber and then turned to find Lawrence smiling at him.  “Ah…young love,” Lawrence sighed. Vincent nodded, his blue eyes twinkling to match Lawrence’s grin. He led the older man down the tunnel.  

“Take good care of your Christine, Vincent. If she isn’t careful, she will wear herself out. ”

“Do not worry,” Vincent assured him, “She is, after all, in the hands of her Angel of Music. ”

Lawrence chuckled and put a friendly hand on Vincent’s lofty shoulder.  “Phantom, I have a proposition for you…”

***