Eric's Next Surprise, and Night at Phantom part one.

Ok, so here's the next scene for you! It's a little bit of a jumble, but hey, it's NaNo.

What's happening: After the mummy attack at the Met, Eric drags Daph out on a surprise date and on the way she reminisces about their time at Phantom the night before. 

Thanks to anyone that reads, and I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to comment with any likes, dislikes and suggestions! And remember, NaNo is not the time for grammar edits!

May the muses ever be with you,

Mara

Current NaNo Word Count: 4,739 

When I finally came to I was lying face up in the middle of the hallway, my hair back to its usual state of loose curls, my clothes the ones I’d put on that morning. But one more thing was different to the last thing I remembered.

            The hall lights were back on, the mummies were gone and Eric was bent over me with a look of concern and disbelief.

            “Are you camping in the Met just to avoid me? Or are you in more trouble than usual and lucky to be alive right now?”

            I sat up and rubbed the back of my head absently, looking around for any trace of what had happened before. There was none, and my amulet was ice cold.

            “Daph?”

            “I think I may have knocked myself out and had an acid trip...but maybe not in that order.”

            Eric gave a bark of laughter and caught my arm to help me to my feet. “Trust you to be dropping it like the Beatles, darlin’. Did you at least get some work done before hand? Or did the endless lists of stores drive you to drugs?”

            “Ha ha. You’re such a comedian.” I caught a glance at the face of his watch and cringed. It had only been about an hour since I’d been sat in the office. “What are you even doing here?”

            “Looking for you. I had dinner reservations for nine but I had to push them back when you were running late.” At my look of disbelief he added: “Oh come on, Daph, as if I didn’t think you would try to avoid me in the least likely place.”

            Damn perceptive man.

            After practically dragging me out of the Met and back to the hotel, Eric waited patiently while I changed and then escorted me into a yellow cab. He wasn’t going to be fooled this time.

            “So where are we going then?” I gave in about five minutes after Eric whispered an address to the cab driver, and proceeded to sit next time with a smug grin on his face.

            “It’s a surprise.”

            Of course it was.

            Last night Eric had taken me to see Phantom of the Opera. He’d dressed up in a perfectly pressed black suit, white shirt and slim black tie, clean-shaven but for the beginnings of a very recent five o’clock shadow and hair tousled back from his forehead. He had looked unbelievably, devastatingly handsome. I had to clench my fists and bit my lip to stop myself from telling him how much I missed him and could he please kiss me.

            Oh, like you wouldn’t be weak in the knees in New York City if the man of your dreams came to escort you to your favourite musical in a suit.

            There was some major knee wobbles, but I managed to refrain from throwing myself at him. At least until we made it through dinner and were seated in the plush seats of the Phantom theatre.

            I rearranged the puffy skirt of my dress around my legs self-consciously as the champagne I’d guzzled down nervously began to prickle at my mind. Eric was blowing apart my resolve one day at a time and I could hardly even remember why I wanted to fight it anymore.

            He sensed my stiffened shoulders and slipped his hand to my thigh to clasp it around mine. “Don’t stress, darlin’,” he sighed, and shot me a smile. “I’m not going to ravish you against your will on the in front of Christine Daae.”

            A part of me, small part, suddenly wondered how awesome that might be if he would sing to me like the Phantom and seduce me the old fashioned way...

            “I’m not the monster your were-cat thinks I am,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear. “I’m just a man who loves you, even if I’m supposed to be some kind of ancient warrior to Anubis, I’m still that man.”

            I turned to stare at him, meeting his gaze, feeling my lips tremble with what I knew he wanted to hear: that I was wrong and that I needed him. I opened my mouth to say something, anything even though I wasn’t sure what or to benefit who.

            The overture suddenly blasted from the orchestra below and the lights began to dim, saving me from making a possible mistake as I turned back to face the curtain. Eric’s hand stayed entwined with mine through most of the first Act.

            Soon I was too lost in the magic of Phantom to even care; mouthing the words to the songs I loved, fantasising about the gowns Christine got to wear and feeling the epic atmosphere let in the air whenever the Phantom sung. The chandelier falling above our heads set my heart racing, but I barely even noticed when Eric tightened his hold on me.

            Just before the intermission, however, I started to get a funny feeling like someone was watching me. Pretty bizarre considering we were sat in the dark during a rock opera, when you’d think most would be watching the stage.

            I glanced at Eric from the corner of my eye only to see his eyes were trained pretty firmly on Christine in her pretty racy white corset and shift skirt. I felt a hint of jealousy hit me, but half came from the desire to wear that outfit myself.

            Although, since Eric wasn’t looking at me and the feeling persisted I could only conclude that someone in the audience was watching me and Eric that I couldn’t see.

            The feeling niggled at me up until intermission, when I murmured something to Eric about needing the bathroom and letting him walk me out of the auditorium towards the refreshments area.

            When I was heading back towards the refreshment area, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a dark shadow glide past through the crowd, unbeknownst to the people around. It was just like the shadows in the nightmares I’d begun to see since moving to London and even before that at home in Perth. It was linked to the Mediator skills I now possessed and I began to worry a spirit had followed me here, wanting to speak.

            Entranced and unsure about the shadow, I failed to notice the tall man in the black trench coat until it was too late to stop myself from bumping into him.

            “Excuse me,” I mumbled apologetically and took a step back, vaguely noticing the chain hanging around his neck and wondering why it was so familiar. The Eye of Ra surrounded by a pentagram.

            I kept walking and held back a shiver, reminded of Adarian and how he was also in New York.