THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

Wow! I wonder what is in store for them next? And whats with the chains?? I sure hope you update soon, or I simply won't survive,


Scary stuff?? Ooh, I cant wait,

Please update soon,

D

Slytherliggie so good to see you. So pleased that I could scare you. Thank you for the lovely comments.

The next chapter will be up soon and you will see what drug across the floor.

Stay tuned. More coming up, so don't go away!

It really is fun to read of the mixing of two worlds and the contrast of cultures. They were so much more refined than we are now, even if Erik is a murdering fiend.
Poor Erik, constantly needing reassurance that his dearest isn't going to betray him like some other people have.

Chica de Nueva York mi amiga so happy to see you. Thank you for the kind words. So far no one has gotten confused. This is the version my publisher would not consider publishing.
If you can see the difference in the period of time, then I did well in the descriptions.

More to come. Please don't go away!

No, I didn't realize you had a phic called Discovering a Legend. I will read it! I love your writing. Please post soon, you're breaking my little heart in two! No, you're breaking my heart in three! First you give one of you're wicked cliffies, and then you don't post another chapter in the next 5 seconds! And then you try to distract us with your other phic. Evil Genius. You: Me:

Thank you to all who have read and reviewed. Thank you again Lady Hope for your kind words and request for another chapter.

Now for your reading pleasure here is an instant chappie. Please R&R. Enjoy!

***********************
CHAPTER TEN

Paris Opera House 1879

As Mae and Raoul hurried down the stairs of the Opera House, Raoul had to speak his mind. Being the Vicomte de Chagny, brother of Philippe, the reigning Comte de Chagny, his royal status and education often caused him to be a bit unforgiving to those less fortunate than he in any capacity. Some even called him a snob.

“Mae, please tell me how you came to meet and marry your
husband?” Raoul asked as they made their way downstairs.

“You are a curious one,” she tried to keep up her pretense
of a 19^th Century lady. “He captivated me by his voice and his love, so we wed yesterday.”

“But how did you meet him?”

“He called out to me,” Mae tried to avoid a direct answer.

“That doesn’t make sense, Madame,” but before Raoul could
continue, the mangers of the Opera House, M[1]. Debienne and M. Poligny met them.

“At last, Mlle[2] Daae…oh, but you are not Mlle Daae,” M. Debienne fidgeted with worry.

“No. M. Debienne and M. Poligny, this is Mlle Babette DuBois, the visiting cousin of Mlle Daae,” the Vicomte lied.

The two managers bowed and each kissed Mae’s hand. “A pleasure mademoiselle,” the managers said in unison.

“But where is Mlle Daae? She has a performance this evening.” spoke M. Poligny, the shorter of the two.

“Mlle DuBois will perform in her place. Mlle Daae is taking a short leave of absence,” smiled Raoul. Mae frowned and
shot him a look.

“Does she know all of the arias?” asked M. Debienne worried
that he’d have to refund money to a disgruntled audience.


“She will have her own songs and arrangements. We’re on our way now to rehearsal. Please excuse us,” and with that, Raoul and Mae made haste to the theatre, leaving the managers dismayed, but happy not to refund a full house.

As they made it to the doors of the theatre, Mae stopped
short and turned on the handsome Vicomte.

“She will have her own songs and arrangements? I can’t sing opera. I don’t sing scales above my head,” grumbled the soon-to-be diva.

“I know, Madame, but you can sing something, can’t you?”
Raoul eyed her lovingly. The handsome young man had such a sparkle in his blue eyes when he smiled. Mae began to see
why Christine fell in love with him, and why she would have a difficult choice between him and the Opera Ghost.

“Of course I can sing something, but...”

“Sing songs that you know. Songs you sang at home. The
audience won’t mind. They come for entertainment. So, entertain them,” when he finished, he gave Mae a light kiss on the cheek, and then pushed open the doors.

She blushed, but then a wave of fear and nausea passed over her. What if her husband watched? He could be in any shadow, or beneath any trapdoor. Had he seen the harmless
kiss? She looked around nervously before entering the
theatre, imagining the blazing orbs boring a hole through her.

As she and the Vicomte entered the theatre and made their
way to the conductor, near the stage, Mae glanced up at Box Five and for a moment, she thought she saw something move in the shadows. A small rustle stirred in the seats. Raoul heard it and his head jerked up toward the box.

“Your husband, Madame?”

“I think so. He’s very possessive.”

“And dangerous…” Raoul muttered under his breath.

Once again, Mae had butterflies dancing in her stomach. Songs raced through her mind. Everybody knew a song or two, but what would be appropriate for a 19^th Century opera, that is not an opera. Mae began to understand the meaning of “wringing one’s hands”, as Raoul introduced her to M. Reyer, the conductor.

“Her own songs and arrangements, monsieur?” the conductor
frowned.

“If Mlle DuBois were to sing a few bars of the song, you and
the orchestra would be able to recreate the accompaniment, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, y…yes, I suppose so,” the conductor stammered as he
cast a glance or two at the orchestra behind him.

Raoul bowed to Mae and kissed her hand. “Mademoiselle, you command the rehearsal. I will be at your performance later this evening.”

After Raoul left, Erik’s bride tried to smile. Several sarcastic remarks came to mind, but she thought better of it and again looked up at Box Five.

No doubt her husband watched with those burning, cat-eyes,
as they glared down upon her. So she smiled this time and mouthed the words, “I love you.” This seemed to tame the glare, and she could feel him settle in his seat.

Mae straightened her dress and turned to the conductor and
sang a few bars of a song from the musical film. The orchestra quickly picked up the tune and in no time made the arrangement complete. Erik’s wife trembled, but soon lost herself in the song, and she could feel her husband’s smile upon her.

---

[1]
Abbreviation for monsieur (mister).
[2]
Abbreviation for mademoiselle(miss).

The musical film? So, she's singing from the Phantom of the Opera? Nice. I would like to hear Erik's reaction to those songs,

Wonderful chapter, again. I am curious as to how long Mae will be able to keep this up?
At least Erik seems content to know she loves him.


D

Slytherliggie thank you for your kind words. So pleased you enjoyed this chapter. Yes, she is singing songs from ALW and you will see his reactions. Remember, all this is before he brought Christine to his lair. They've never seen each other face to face.

More coming soon. Don't go away!

A lovely chapter I had to read this before I leave. It makes you want to keep reading.

Thank you erikstalker. You comments really make my entire day. I try very hard write quality stories which compel the reader to want to read more.

There is much more coming, so please don't go away!

Poor girl. This is where marriage to Erik is a bad thing. Ladies, in real life it is never good to marry a man who suffers from insane jealousy. Really.

Good chapter, though.

Chica de Nueva York thank you for the compliment and kind words. So happy to see you and that you enjoyed this chapter.

We're just getting started. I will update in a day or so.

Thank you all who have read and reviewed. As promised here is the next chapter.

Please R&R. Enjoy!

**********************************************
CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gypsy’s Parlor Present Day

Again, a rattle of chains sounded from the backroom and
something drug itself across the floor and fell silent.

Tommy stood near the door, ready to shoot out, when an
elderly gypsy woman emerged from behind the curtains of the backroom. She wore a long dress with a full skirt and layers of gaudy beads and bracelets. On her head, a mismatched scarf covered her graying hair to keep it from falling into her weather beaten face. Hoop earrings dangled from her ear lobes. For all intents and purposes, she dressed as a traditional gypsy.

“Oui? Q’est-ce que vous-voulez? [1]” The old woman stared at them.

“Anglais? Parlez-vous anglais[2]?” Twanda struggled in her broken French.

“Micha!” cried the old woman. “Micha. Vien ici. Américains![3]”

In a moment, a handsome young man of twenty or so appeared from the backroom. He spoke perfect English and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that read: Yankee Go Home!

“May I help you?” asked Micha politely.

“We need to talk to someone about mirror magic,” began
Twanda.

“Mirror magic?”

“This young lady and our friend have swapped places through
a mirror,” Tommy tried to explain. “You think we’re crazy, don’t you?”

Micha grinned. “I do, but my grandmother won’t.” She seemed frightened and wanted the Americans to leave, but when Christine spoke to her in her own tongue, she changed her mind.

Then the old woman turned to Micha to translate for the
others. “My grandmother says that mirror magic is very strong and dangerous. There is no telling what may come through the mirror behind you. Also, there’s a chance that the portal may lead you to hell.”

After much chattering between Christine and the old gypsy,
Micha again turned to the others.

“Your friend says the mirror is in the Opera House. My
grandmother will not go there. The many souls which inhabit the building frighten her. Especially of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra[4]. She fears his magic and that he will come
through the looking glass.”

“But our friend, Mae, is trapped in the mirror. How can we bring her out?”

“My grandmother says you must find the person who put the
spell on the mirror in the first place. They would know how to control it. If she tried, she might bring in a creature from another dimension,” at this, Micha chuckled and his grandmother reprimanded him in French.

“You’re not serious?” Twanda tried to be calm as she twisted her coarse black hair nervously.

“My grandmother is.”

Christine turned to the old woman and spouted more French. The gypsy backed away, crossed herself, and mumbled an answer.

Christine narrowed her eyes at the grandson. “You don’t translate everything. Instead, you make fun of her, because she says you have cast the mirror spell and brought a devil into our world.”

Micha flushed with anger. “Get out!” he shouted.

“No! You are going to tell us what you know!” demanded Christine.

“Your grand-mère fears me because I came through the mirror. She thinks I am a demon. When I mention the Opera Ghost, she calls him ‘le cadavre vivant’, ‘the living corpse’.”

Tommy and the girls stood their ground with Micha. The old gypsy woman quickly disappeared into the backroom. Again the chains rattled and something heavy drug itself across the floor.

“What the crap was that?” Tommy shivered.

Micha didn’t answer. Twanda shuddered at the rattling, but
continued backing Micha against the wall.

“All right! I will talk to you, but not here. Meet me at
the bakery next door in five minutes.”

“You’d better show. You stand us up and we’ll be back,” Tommy threatened.

Then he and the girls left. Micha gritted his teeth, but as he turned to the backroom, his grandmother stood before him. This time she spoke to him in English.

“If you help them, you need to tell them the truth.”

“Grand-mère, I know what I’m doing. I just want them to leave you alone.”

“No! Tell them the truth. You must find the original spellcaster, or you will bring in another demon!” With this, the old woman crossed herself, and took down some jars of herbal powders and began to prepare a protection spell.

Micha stared at his grandmother a moment and then left the
shop.

Tommy and the girls checked out the all the pastries in the
boulangerie. Their mouths watered, but they couldn’t make up their minds.

“Where the heck is Doone?” Kimee looked around. “He never
showed at the Opera House.”

“I hope he’s okay. Nothing is going right.” Twanda pointed to a pastry when the cashier approached. At that moment, Micha entered the bakery. He seemed more serious, even worried.

“Micha!” Tommy hailed.

The young man approached them. After Tommy made a round robin of intros, the young gypsy explained that three months ago he cast the mirror spell. His girlfriend, Inèz, wanted to visit a fairly tale world. So, she chose Snow White. Words could not describe the ache in his heart for the loss of his beloved.

“Are you serious?” Twanda didn’t believe him.

“It’s crazy, but we are talking about magick, so I cast the
spell and Inèz went through the mirror...” Micha stopped short and cast his eyes to the ground. He seemed a little choked up.

“Then what?” Twanda continued.

“Snow White never looked into the mirror, but the witch, her
wicked stepmother did,” Kimee added.

“I know,” Micha said sadly.

“You mean the old witch came through the mirror?” Twanda munched on her sweets.

Micha could hardly talk. Tears welled up in his eyes. “I could cast the spell, but grandmother is right. You should find the original spellcaster.”

“What happened to your girlfriend?” asked Christine.

“My girl’s trapped in the mirror. I can’t find the old witch. I know she doesn’t want to return,” at this, Micha broke down and cried like a baby. Tommy took him outside. The girls
exchanged confused looks.

---

[1]
Yes? What do you want?
[2]
English? Do you speak English?

[3] Micha, come here. Americans!

[4] The Phantom of the Opera.

Mirror magick switching people from different worlds? Wicked,

Poor Micha! I really feel sorry for the dude, losing his girl like that, it's awful.

Very good chapter, I seriously like where this is going Please update again soon??


D

Slytherliggie so happy you enjoyed this chapter. Yes, mirror magick, makes you want to think twice before checking you looks in one.

Thank you for the lovely comments. I will be posting more soon.

Poor Micha he seems really sweet. I wonder who the original spellcaster is? We'll find out sooner or later.

erikstalker so happy to see you. Hope your grandfather is better or at least feels better after seeing you.

Thank you for the kind words. Yes, poor Micha has the same problem. Now we're getting into the meat of the adventure. Who is the spellcaster indeed?

More coming really soon.

Thank you to all who have R&R.

Here's the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

*****************************************
CHAPTER TWELVE

Opera Garnier, Paris Opera House 1879


The evening performance at the Paris Opera House dubbed Mae the new diva. True, her songs never
reached scales above her head, but as Raoul said, the audience wanted entertainment, and entertain she did.

Mae closed with the Phantom’s solo, from the musical film,
another fitting song for the occasion. For this, she received a standing ovation. It appeared she’d played her part well for a 21^st Century girl.

While taking her bows, she glanced up at Box Five and saw a
shadow with blazing eyes. She smiled and threw it a kiss and again mouthed the words, “I love you.”

“And I love you, my sweet,” whispered Erik, as he joined in
the standing ovation for his wife. Her voice thrilled him to no end. She didn’t compare to Christine, or any Opera diva.
Mae sang from the heart, for him, not just in honor of him, but because of him. Now, he more than desired her
physical body, he desired her mind, soul and heart. Mae didn’t pity or condemn him, the true attribute of a soul mate, for she loved him for all that he had become, regardless of past actions.

Later that evening, Mae made her way through the crowd of
adoring fans; including the mangers of the Opera House. The young Vicomte stopped her at the foot of the stairs.

“You were magnificent, madame. My congratulations!” he bowed and kissed her hand.

“Thank you Raoul. As you said, they only wanted to be entertained. If you’ll excuse me, I must go to my husband.”

“May I take you to supper? I’d like to talk to you about Christine,” he looked hopeful.

“We do need to talk, but perhaps tomorrow?” The new diva
kept looking upstairs. She wanted to get to the dressing room and the mirror. The performance wore her out and she only wished to bask in the love of her new husband.

“Madame, please. I love Christine as you love your husband,” Raoul’s eyes pleaded with her. The old heart pained for the loss of his love. Answers, he needed them before he died of heartbreak.

“Raoul, tomorrow. My husband is waiting. I promise we will
talk tomorrow. Come to my dressing room at noon.”

The Vicomte agreed. He bowed and once again, kissed Mae’s hand. Quickly, she took leave, and ran upstairs to the dressing room.

As she suspected, the masked man grew visible in the mirror. His voice filled the air with golden tones of love that lured his wife to him. He reached for her, and she took his hand.
Once again he led her through the looking glass.

As they reached their home, Erik picked up his wife from the
boat, and concluded the song he created for her. They stood silent for a moment, gazing into each other’s face.

“You may remove my mask,” he said, as he leaned very close
to her. Gently, she removed the mask. Erik lovingly teased her lips with his tongue, before pressing his lips to hers. They held each other like they’d never let go.

When they broke the kiss, Erik remarked, “You sang like an
angel.”

“I sang for you. I’m sorry I can’t sing scales above my head, but I did my best.”

“Can’t sing scales above your head?” Erik smiled, and then
laughed.

“It’s good to see you laugh,” Mae held him tight.

“I’ve never had any reason to laugh, until now. Where did you learn such beautiful songs?”

“From the musical film and stage play named after you.”

“Interesting! You must teach me these songs,” the Phantom squeezed her tightly.

“Especially the last song. It seems to suite me.”

“The composer created it for you. Whoever plays the Phantom always sings that song,” Erik’s wife winced a bit.

“What’s wrong, dear wife?” Erik asked with concern. Mae
shied away from an answer, but Erik insisted. Then she showed him the bruises on her arms from their love making the night before.

Shame crept over Erik and he felt appalled at what he had
done. “I did this to you? Why didn’t you say something? For this reason you wept?”

“You handled me so roughly, I thought you would tear me
apart,” she tried to look away, but he made her look at him. It pained her deeply to tell him, knowing it may upset him so.

“Don’t ever let me or any man do this to you. Do something to make me stop, next time.”

“How do I stop you when your passion runs high?

“You could have slapped me.”

“When aroused, how would you have taken a slap?”

“Not a slap, then. Just say, ‘Be gentle with me.’ That should do it,” with that, he leaned down and kissed her again. “Did I bruise you elsewhere?”

“My legs, but I’m all right,” she hugged him as a sign to
change the subject and let it go.

“My God! I’ve bruised you all over.”

“Erik, it’s okay.”

“There’s that word again, okay. It’s not okay…” but his wife grabbed his lapels and pulled him to her for another kiss.

When the kiss broke, the Phantom picked up his wife and
moved to the sofa, where he sat down with her on his lap.

“Do you truly wish for me to return with you to the 21^st
Century?”

“Yes. I won’t leave without you.”

“Do you realize how many men I’ve killed?”

“No, but it’s little late for details. But I do need to know some things…”

“Please don’t ask if you can ask a question. Just ask it!”

“Leroux’s book does not mention a portcullis or candelabras
rising from the lake, or an automaton wearing a wedding dress,” Mae looked her husband in the eye.

“Ask the question woman.”

“Where did this come from?”

“I created them all, like I did everything else here,” he
avoided the answer.

“Erik!”

He gave a long sigh. “It was in your mind.”

“You read minds, now?”

“Once we reach your century, I must read this infernal book
to which you keep referring. It’s been nothing but the topic of conversation,” he sighed in exasperation.

“He described you as a living corpse. You were quoted as describing yourself as “death” from head to toe. But obviously, you don’t look like that now.”

“My God, woman! You really do pry, don’t you? Is nothing
sacred?”

“Not if you go to my century,” Mae waited for an
explanation.

Erik didn’t answer right away. He sighed again, and looked away. No matter how much we love someone, certain
things should remain in the depths of our heart, at least Erik felt this way. His wife began nuzzling and teasing him with
kisses.

“All right! All right!” Erik kissed her long and hard and proceeded to recall the Shah of Persia’s request for a palace he could walk through and not be seen. As payment, he offered Erik a choice of one of his wives or daughters and even part of his kingdom. Yet, he refused all.

Gently, he pushed her off his lap, arose from the sofa and
moved to a desk in the corner of the room. Here, he drew out an empty vile from a drawer and returned to his seat next to his wife; handing it to her.

“All I wanted was the serum in this vile,” Erik continued.
Rumors said it had healing power to restore health to anyone, no matter what the illness. The Shah agreed at first. He built the palace as requested.

Upon time for payment, the Shah refused and decided to put
out his yellow eyes. Then on second thought, he decided Erik should die, and then all his secrets would die with him.

The Persian he called Daroga, which means police commissioner, aided in Erik’s escape, but the Shah suspected he still lived, since the vile had disappeared.

So, Daroga lost his position, but thankfully, not his life
or pension. And I escaped to Paris,” Erik concluded with another long sigh.

Mae sat speechless. She toyed with the vile. The
secret behind the mask had surfaced. Everything she had read and wondered about now had meaning. It all made sense.

“Obviously, the vile did not contain enough serum. I was
restored to what you see, still a beast beneath the mask,” the deformed eccentric looked away with fear that his young bride would hate him. With bated breath, he waited for her
rejection, but it never came.

“Only one side of your face is damaged. We have plastic surgery and face transplants in my century,” Mae touched his disfigured side gently, seductively. The Phantom closed his eyes to fully enjoy the erotic sensation, ignoring the rest of her comments.

Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he grabbed and gathered her up into his arms once again, startling his young wife. “Have I satisfied your curiosity? Or do you still have questions?” He brought his face ever so close to hers. She could feel his warm breath and racing heart.

“I’m good,” Mae tried to smile.

“I’m good? Is that like “okay”?”

“It means ‘No more questions’.” Her husband intimidated her with his gruffness and rough handling.

“At least for now,” he growled, as he caressed her lips with
his tongue and then crushed his lips to hers. Times like this made Mae both aroused and frightened by him. His touch sent her into throes of ecstasy and again she surrendered herself to desires.

Serum that restored him? Now that's an interesting thought... Will they get the recipe for more?? I know, I'm just being optimistic...

Very good chapter, I'm glad Erik liked our ALW songs,

Please please continue again soon, I'm at the edge of my seat


D

Thank you Fay he's much better after he started the kemo.

Raoul is now asking her to dinner... next he's gonna sing to her on the roof. Let's find out.

Slytherliggie so good to see you. Alas, the creator of the serum is no more and he did not leave anyone the formula. Sadly, he took it with him to the grave. The shah was a nasty sort like that. Thank you for the kind words.

erikstalker so happy your grandfather has started his kemo and is better. He is in our prayers.

Thank you for the kind words as well. Since Emma swapped places with Christine, rooftop singing could be next.

I will wait a day or so before posting more. I don't want to overwhelm anyone.

Love you all.

Thank you to all who have read and reviewed.

Here is the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

***********************************************
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Boulangerie Paris 2006


Nightfall in Paris generally brought romantic thoughts, but not true this time, as the three friends along with Christine and Micha sat at the tables outside of the bakery. Micha tried to compose himself after the painful recollection of losing his love, Inèz, through the looking glass.

“Where the hang is Doone?” Tommy wondered aloud. “Maybe we should call the hotel.” Christine chatted with Micha in
French while Twanda and Kimee finished their pastries.

“How does the mirror work?” Christine asked Micha. He looked away; not wanting the same thing to happen again.

“Micha, answer me?” Christine persisted.

“I need to show you something. Then you won’t ask anymore questions,” with that, he arose and beckoned her to follow him. Christine then turned to the others and motioned for them to do the same.

Back in the Gypsy’s shop, Micha stood with his hand poised
on the curtain, which separated the backroom from the front.

Tommy kept a hand on the knob of the front door, ready to
run out at any given moment. Twanda and Kimee exchanged looks with each other and then with Tommy. Christine seemed to be the bravest, as she stood near Micha and the curtain.

“After you see this, please don’t ask me or my grandmother
to cast the mirror spell.” Micha motioned for them to be quiet as he slowly pulled back the curtain.

There in the corner of a cage, chained to the floor stood a
creature resembling a scruffy old man, with graying hair all over his body like an animal. His eyes looked dim and somewhat glassy, and the smell, mingled with the herbs and incense made the teens gag. He didn’t speak, but only made grunting and growling noises like a dumb beast. The floor beneath him bore deep scars from the nails on his claw-like hands and feet.

Quickly, Micha closed the curtain. “This is what came through the mirror with Snow White’s witch.”

“Sorry, Micha. We don’t know what to say,” Twanda pitied him and the old man.

“Why do you keep him chained?” Tommy shivered with fright,
but still had to ask.

“If we don’t, he’ll kill us all. Make no mistake. This thing is not human. It’s a demon,” Micha warned.

The three swallowed hard. Christine backed away slowly.

“I will tell you again, find the spellcaster. They control the mirror,” Micha seemed disturbed and wanted them to leave.

“Maybe we can help get your girl back,” Tommy seemed
hopeful.

“How? I’ve scried for the witch. She doesn’t want to be
found.”

“Does the witch have to return or can anyone take her place
and free your girl?” Kimee covered her nose with her hat. Tommy opened the door to let in some fresh air.

“It can be anyone from our dimension, as long if they go
through willingly. But it would be better if Inèz changed places with the witch. Then this creature would return with her,” Micha’s eyes welled up with tears. The burden felt too heavy to bear alone. At last someone else knows other
than grandma.

Christine touched his arm gently and sighed. “Come back with us to the Opera House. If we can find the spellcaster, maybe they could help you,” she suggested, looking to the others for support. Tommy and the girls agreed.

The creature rattled its chains and lumbered across the
floor in the backroom. Micha shivered and nodded. Anything to rid himself of this evil thing. Maybe together they’d find a way to bring back the girl he loved.

Meanwhile, Doone sat in the hotel lobby as Mrs. Carlyle and
Miss Peters interrogated him.

“Doone, this is not like you. What you hiding? It’s something about Mae, isn’t it?” grilled Mrs. Carlyle.

Doone fidgeted and looked away like a child caught with his
hand in the cookie jar.

“Where did the others go? Back to the Opera House?” continued Miss Peters, her brow furrowed and she stood with her hands on her hips.

Finally Doone looked up sheepishly, and grinned. After all, how many lies could he tell?

Miss Peters sat next to him. She tried to meet him at his
own level. “Doone, I know you love the kids like your own family, but if they’re in trouble, we have to help them,
right?”

Doone nodded.

“Please tell us what happened at the Opera House?” Miss
Peters persisted.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” Doone finally
spoke.

“Just tell us for Pete’s sake!” Mrs. Carlyle cried in
exasperation.

“Mae went through the mirror and exchanged places with
Christine,” Doone looked each woman in the eye.

Carlyle threw her hands up into the air and said, “He’s all
yours, Linda!”

“I’m so telling the truth. Mae went through the mirror,” Doone cried; still upset. He suddenly jumped up and bolted for the door. The teachers stumbled over each other, trying to stop him, but he vanished before they could even reach the front door.

Very very good. I wonder who is the spellcaster? The Persian, maybe?

Nice touch, having Doone spill the beans and the teachers not believing him. As for the switch, don't tell me Kimee wants to send Christine in the witch's place?


I hope you continue soon.

D

Slytherliggie thank you for reading and reviewing. Who is the spellcaster indeed? Makes you wonder. Thank you for the compliment.
At the moment, Kimee what's Christine anyplace but here.

More will be coming soon.

wow, soo many chapters (yeah i`m finally home)
and they were all awesome.

poor misha i hope i don`t have to wait too long for the next chapter.(translated: update right now!) lol )