Love Always Dies

by VeronicaDean

Another fire―and another note―revives the search for the Phantom. Almost two years after he left the Paris Opera House in flames, the Phantom reminds the world of his presence. What else does he have planned? And how will it affect the lives, and marriage, of Christine and Raoul? (This sequel is meant to be read as if Love Never Dies didn't, and won't, happen).

1. Vengeance

Note:

This is a sequel to Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, The Phantom of the Opera. This story doesn't take the actual sequel into account. So, when reading, read it like Love Never Dies never happened, or will happen.

My sequel starts in the winter of 1892, over a year after the falling of the chandelier, and the subsequent fire that burned down the Paris Opera House. I have 24 chapters planned, all varying in length. This first chapter is quite a bit shorter than most will (probably) be.

Disclaimer:

I do not own any adaptations of The Phantom of the Opera, or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

This is rated M for violence, language, adult themes, and some (not detailed) sexual content in future chapters.

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Chapter 1: Vengeance

He thought he may never find them. After more than a year of searching all of France, he had almost given up. The only thing that continued to drive him was his anger. It was his battalion of rage that propelled him forward and forced him to keep looking, despite that voice in the back of his mind telling him it was pointless.

But, at last, there they were. The group of roaming Romanis who advertised freaks of nature that would satisfy even the most macabre of appetites. The second time around, he was the one holding power over them.

If it were possible, he would squeeze the life out of every single one of them with his bare hands. Or perhaps he'd brand each of their faces, lock them up, and watch them starve to death. But, despite his extensive fantasies, he decided to go about it more efficiently. He couldn't afford to be sloppy. Not this time.

The night before they were going to leave town, he had everything in place. It went off without a hitch. They'd been blown apart by the explosion, and what was left of them was taken by the flames. Horrible screams filled the chilly air, along with the stench of burning flesh. All too familiar.

Only an hour before all the carnage, he'd sent his letter to the police station.

The debtor has come to collect. And I have been well compensated.

I came for the blood of the freak show's masters; the blood of the guilty. And I received it.

Surely, there will be outrage over my claim of innocent lives,

but I can assure the populace of this: no one in this world is truly innocent.

I am not a greedy man. By the time you receive this, I will be long gone.

I will not be taking any more lives from this dreary town.

However, should you continue your attempts to find me,

all of you shall meet your fates sooner than you may wish.

Your obedient servant,

O.G.

He knew that they would keep looking for him, despite his threats, though that was at the back of his mind. He'd just killed the ones who made him into what he was―wiped them, and their children, out. So why did he still feel such intense vengeance in his heart? Why, he asked himself, do I still feel more monster than man?