Fallen Angels - Chapter Six

Joseph Buquet dropped the glass in his hand, slightly burped, and stood up quickly, straightening out his trousers making himself presentable. Although he was much larger, and in any defence, a man, he was still frightened by this tiny woman storming towards him, in nothing but a black corset top and practice skirt that she wore at all times, clutching a tight fist around a white peice of paper at her side.

He knew that she never looked that furious unless he had done something, and besides, there was no one else in the wine cellars besides the two. "Buqeut!" Madame Giry commanded with her strong french accent, making Joseph's, already hungover head, ache more. "Explain the meaning of this," she pushed the letter into his chest with suprisingly strong force, digging her nails into his plaid shirt. She changed her scornful face into a sarcastic smile, "If you would be so kind...."

Joseph, still a bit shaken, looked down at the white peice of parchment, back up at the angered woman, removed the note from her grasp, and became as sarcastic as she, with a smirk on his face, "Of course Mam', I would be honored to study your little scrap of paper!" He bowed low infront of her, stifling chuckles the entire time. As he rose up Madame Giry struck his face with a powerful slap, nearly turning his head full around. Joseph, stunned, turned back, rubbing his cheek with his free hand.

"Don't be stupid Buquet," Madame Giry scowled slitting her eyelids. She turned, and started to pace back and forth infront of him, obviously frustrated. Not knowing the point, and still a little dazed, Joseph did nothing but follow her every move, quickly shaking it off as Madame Giry's scornful voice brought him back to reality. "Well don't just stand there, open it you idiot!" She placed her hands behind her back and stood watching him gaze at the skull on the cover of the paper. He traced the red wax with his index finger, bringing the note up to his face, eyes wide open, concentrating on it.

Madame Giry put her hand to her forehead, closed her eyes, and slowly shook her head back and forth, feeling even more hopeless. Slowly walking towards the dazed scene-shifter, she waved her hands infront of his face, trying to draw his attention back to what she was there for. "Hello, what are you doing?"

As if just noticing her presence, Joseph jumped back, shook it off, and said, "Oh, sorry Mam', I just got a little distracted...." he continued to open the letter, and Madame Giry followed his eyes as they squinted, reading along the paper. She grew irritated, gazing around, tapping her foot, waiting for his response. "Well, is there anything you can tell me?" She leaned her head in, knowing that she was being sarcastic. She didn't care at the moment, she knew that he was half asleep anway.

Joseph gazed at the paper a while longer, rubbing his chin as if in thought. He then suddenly straighted up, looked towards Madame Giry, took a deep breathe, and gave her back the letter, trying to be as proffesional as possible in his state, "I know nothing of it Mam'."

Madame Giry, still not trusting Buquet since the day they met, took the paper, stuffed it into the pocket of her practice skirt, put her hands on her hips and continued to stare him down, "Tell me the truth Buquet."

Buquet, growing more and more like a helpless child, started to back away raising his hands in defence, "If I tell you the truth you'll just hurt me!" His British accent helped his whining no more than the forcful reply Madame Giry responded with, slowly backing the frightened man into a corner. "If you don't tell me anything, I'll hurt you even more!" Knowing he was beaten, Joseph sighed, but, still trying to win the argument, he bit back, "Your such a cruel woman...."

As she started to raise her hand to slap him again, he grabbed her slighlty and quickly gave her what he knew in one sentence, "OG is the Phantom's signature!" As Madame Giry backed down, Buquet sighed, clutching his heart beating fast in his chest. He wheezed slightly, but straightened up, seeing the questioning look on the woman's face, knowing he had more explaining to do.

"You see," he put his hands togther, slightly praying in his mind that she wouldn't hit him for what he was about to say, "It stands for Opera Ghost." Seeing some slight understanding in her face, he grew more confident, and tried to have a regular conversation with her, "Clever bugger, if I do say so myself." Having turned around, he looked back as Madame Giry sighed, knowing that he had mistaken understanding for hidden scorn. Growing a little tenative, he started to edge across the chair, not wanting to be put into a corner.

Madame Giry, brow furrowed, paid know mind to him. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, growing more frustrated, "Don't give me anymore nonsense about this, this...." she paused, glancing up at Buquet as he

interrupted her in mid-sentence. "You asked me for what I know, and that's what I know!" Joseph stood now, more offended than frightened, he knew that she was more worried about finding answers to her questions than causing him anymore pain.

Madame Giry slowly turned, feeling stupid, trying to exit the room shaking her head, scorning herself, "I shouldn't have asked a druken idiot for advice, what was I thinking?!" Buquet, acting strangly brave towards this small angry woman who had tortured him for the past few years, rounded the table, quickening his pace to follow her. "I'll have you know that I haven't gotten a drink since last night!" Madame Giry, with a smirk on her face, scoffed at his ingnorance, slowly turning to humor him with sarcasm in her voice, "I guess that is a sort of accomplishment, for you."

Joseph, at first proud of his news, felt beaten down by this woman's disbelief. Still determined to win his first argument against this ballet instructer, he grew more convinced that everything he said was right. "Yes indeed Mam', and I did it for your approval, but you won't even believe me when I tell you something!" Buquet, trying to seem heartbroken, frowned, pouting, hoping she would console him like she consoled the teenagers everyday. But instead, he got a slap across the face, not literaly, but in the way she sounded as she replied, sarcastic, heart-less, and accusing, "How am I not supposed to believe that somehow your apart of this whole maniacal thing?! Your the only person who has seen this "ghost", and you can't expect to seem reliable if people know that you're drunk all the time!" She tucked one hand under her elbow, gesturing with the other, trying to convince him of his idiocy.

Buquet, feeling like a victim of her scorn, continued with his case, "I may not be able to explain everything else that goes on around here, but I can tell you that whatever happened last night wasn't because of me." He was now copying Madame Giry's techniques using hand gestures also. He turned, to the chair, feeling that he had beaten his foe, but slowly started to turn back to answer Madame Giry's sincere question, "How so?" He knew that she would want to know, and that he had her attention for the first time in a long time.

He inhaled, taking in the moment, but quickly began to explain as he saw the anger build up in her features. "I was out running errands for the Missure Phillipe and Missure Raul. They are brothers, and the new patrons to the opera house....." he looked up as Madame Giry interrupeted him shaking her head, her arms crossed infront of her, feeling that he was just rambling on.

"I know who they are.... wait," she suddenly stopped, looking at him strangly, feeling more questions coming to her, "You ran errands for someone? And how did you know that we had new patrons, it's not supposed to be announced until next season."

Joseph, took a deep breath, knowing that he had even more explaining to do on his part. He closed his eyes trying to find the best way to explain without giving himself, or Madame Giry, any more of a headache. "First of all, it's my job to know. When I heard that there were to be new managers, I knew that there were to be new patrons, there always is. And, as for the other question, the Phillipe sir, he offered me a barrel of their finest wine, and its been a while since I've drank me a good wine Mam'." He then patted his chest, as if gesturing to the wine that now marinated in his stomach.

Madame Giry, disgusted, turned her head away, trying to breathe, "I knew it had something to do with that.... *cough*," she felt the smell from his breathe catch in her lungs. She acted as if she was choking, exaggerating his stench, "You can atleast bathe, before I enter a room!" Buquet sighed, getting used to her stabs at his feelings. He was a man, and he wished to be treated like one, so he continued to stare at her, waiting for furthur questions that he knew were going to come.

She shook away the stench one last time, and looked back at him, resuming her lecture, "But, you know that the new managers won't be taking over for another two years?" Joseph Buquet closed his eyes again, feeling the pain throbbing in the back of his mind, but knew that she would not leave until she had found out all that she wanted from him. "Well.... yes," he gazed down at her, slightly smiling, trying to make it look like he knew what he was talking about, "But you probably know better than I that they've been walking around the opera house, scanning over the help. As chief scene-shifter, they thought it best to introduce themselves to me," he straightened up, feeling important, as if he were worth talking about, "Very Gentlmen-like people, Missure Andre and Missure Firmin'. The next thing I know, they bring in the patrons, and Phillipe just happened to need a favor." He then bowed his head, and looked back up, gazing sincerly at Madame Giry, "And that's the honest truth Mam'."

Madame Giry scanned over his face, eyeslids slit, making her seem untouchable. She then sighed, knowing that she could not be suspicious of him for what he had just said, "I'm not going to badger you for that, because I know for a fact that they have been touring the place and introducing themselves. I was the the first they talked to...." she stopped herself in mid-sentence, knowing that they had gotten way off topic of what she had asked in the first place.

She looked down at the white fold of paper sticking out of her pocket, and suddenly grew more stern making Buquet's face grow frightened as he started to back into a corner again. "So, are you certain that this letter is signed by your "phantom" from the initials, OG?" feeling her words grow more sarcastic with every sound, Madame Giry continued to stare Buquet down, waiting for her next chance to talk.

Joseph, feeling pressured, decided to tell the truth, and inhaled deeply before answering her demand, "To be honest with you Mam', I knew it was his when I saw the red wax stamp on the cover. He is always sending me notes, I've gotten to recongnize them...." Buquet jumped, his whole body shaking from the force that erupted from Madame Giry's petite form. Although it would seem she was angry at him, she was actually scolding herself.

With every syllable she spoke, she pushed Joseph harder and harder, nearly making him drop into the chair, "Oh, how could I have dipped myself to such low to ask for your help?" She then started stabbing him in the chest with her index finger, glaring up at his face without the slightest sign of sympathy, "I'm going to talk to Phillipe and Raul about your drinking problem, " she scoffed at him, and turned, starting to walk out the door, "You won't be running errands for them anytime soon...."

Buquet, still stunned from her harsh words, kept trying to regain his position in the argument. He chased after her, nearly yelling up the stairs so that she would hear his last plea of innocence, "But Mam', I told you the truth!" Madame Giry paused at the doorway, turned sharply on the top step, feeling that the answer was all to clear, "Yes, but you probably only think it's the truth! Who knows what you thought happened while you were choking down wine!"

Buquet, more frightened than ever, backed away from the stair-way, feeling he was looking at the devil himself. Madame Giry's eyes turned into tiny slits once again, as she continued to threaten him, "Come up with one more story of this "ghost", and I will give you something to choke on!" Madame Giry, now feeling she had made her point, picked up the end of her skirt, and made her way out.

Although Joseph knew that he had been beaten, he felt obligated to warn the denying woman of what he knew was to come before long. He knew of the consequences that his ghost would be all to happy to carry out if his instructions were not followed. Buquet, having a sudden urge to chase the woman, stumbled up the steps, leaning against the wooden wall for support. He felt as if it had taken forever to reach the doorway, but was met with a stern face that almost made him fall all the way back down.

He felt splinters carve their way into his fingers, as he clung for dear life. Madame Giry, being the owner of the stern face, grabbed the neck of his shirt, bringing him back to balance on the step. As he breathed, she pestered him, wanting to know what was so important that he almost killed himself. "What else could you possibly have to say?" Joseph patted his chest, enhaling, smiling at the woman to show his grattitude and anxiety. He then hurried along seeing the look on her face that he knew was not a sign of patience.

Being more serious than ever, he placed a hand on his hip and continued with his urgent news, "Mam', I know I'm not the person you want to hear this from, but please take heed of what he says in the note." Seeing Madame Giry blow out her frustration, he decided to change his way of going about telling her. Scared of what she might do, he tried to seem as friendly as possible, shrugging and suggesting the entire time, "Atleast do what he instructs for a while, see what happens. Then maybe you'll believe me...."

The woman then paused in her impatience, her furrowed brow turned into a worried, and slightly understanding frown. She looked down at her skirt closing her eyes, as if confiding in this hungover drunk, "I have been thinking about doing that, atleast for Christine's sake...." She then grew angry, realizing her sensitivity with this disgusting creature. She knew she could not be that hopeless for advice. Wanting to turn around and exit the room, Madame Giry thought it best to leave Buquet with a small threat, just in case he wasn't telling the truth and he did have something to do with Christine's "visits".

"Believe me Buquet, if this is another one of your tricks, the next time your telling a ghost story, it will be your own!" With the last word, Madame Giry poked the man in the chest so hard, he felt the stab in his skin and nearly toppled back down the stairs again, had it not been that his foot caught the next step just in time. His breathing quickened, and he looked up, scared to peices of the woman that was now storming away.

Joseph turned towards the chair that now lay vacant, and made his way to sit down in it. He picked up his glass he was once drinking out of and fell into the chair like a sack of potatos. He sprawled out across it, feeling the throbbing pains in his head, and his heart taring out of his chest. He stared down his shirt and saw the blood stain erupting from the wound caused by his little spat with Madame Giry just moments before.

Slowly, Joseph stopped breathing, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. To most, he would look dead, but he knew what was going to happen, even if the outside world didn't. Not seeing anything but darkness, he heard a voice erupt from the back of his mind. He could not describe it, because it held no characteristics, all he knew was what it was saying.

"You let this instructer, this woman, take all the information from you that she wanted without the slightest punch. Your so weak!"

Buquet felt himself answering back, even if his lips were not moving. "I'm sorry sir, but she's a mean little demon. Hell, I havn't had to deal with her type in a very long time. And what she asked for wasn't nothing that I couldn't give!" Joseph felt himself shudder as the voice answered back, with no expression, it was just the words that chilled him to the bone.

Joseph gasped for breathe as his eyes came back into focus, and he could once again see the inside of the wine cellar. He clasped his hands together feeling them shake his entire body. He stuttered slightly, finishing off the conversation that he had no idea would be the last for two years,

".....y-y-y-yes.... s-sir!"