Prologue:

Nicolette could dance and sing moderately well. She did not have the voice of an angel, nor did she have the dancing skills of some of the other girls, but madam Giry was sure that Erik could teach her to do both in time. If her spirit did not break completely that was. The girl was an innocent, undeserving of such a fate, sweet and kind, always willing to help others no matter how mean or cruel they were to her. Giry knew she would never make it in the world of the opera, not unless she was willing to slit some throats and step on some shoulders. And that was perhaps one of the facts she had of selecting the young girl for him. She met his requirements, she was young and virginal, and she had no future here anyway.

When the letter had slowly fallen from the rafters, fluttering like a leaf in the wind, aided only by the thick wax stamp, and landed at her feet, she had felt sick, like the opera had crashed in on her and crushed her entire being into dust. She stood there alone in the middle of the night, coming back from checking on the girls in their dormitories, and prayed to the lord above to hear her prayers. She prayed whatever lay in that letter would be merciful, forgiving. Though she knew Erik well now, and she knew any mercy, and forgiveness that had remained in him after years of torture and torment, had vanished when Christine left. She had kept the letter, and as she sat in her room, preparing to lead the sweet girl down into the depths of hell, she read it again for strength.

Madam,

The events of three years previous have left me grievously stricken with a broken heart and a thirst for vengeance. The opera, the place of my despair, my refuge, should never have been reopened. I find myself overcome with hatred for every being that steps into my home, and I will begin my torment again if my anger is not somehow abated. You can save your girls, Madam, and the stage hands, and the new owners, and the patrons, from a terrible fate if you will meet the terms I lay before you in this letter. Give me one. A single companion and I will disappear into the night. A young, beautiful, girl I can share my days and nights with, a girl that may temper some of the pain that is ravaging my body from the inside out. A girl who can dance and sing for me when I wish it. A Girl that will not look on me with horror and revulsion, though I know this will be a hard term to meet, I shall not consider our contract breached if she is unable to hide her disgust from me. If you do this for me, give me my very own Angel, one whose wings I can clip and never let go, then I shall live with you quietly, coming out only in silence to observe my favorite operas. No interference for the rest of my days.

I eagerly away your response,

Erik

Post Script: She is to look nothing like Christine.

Madam Giry nodded and folded the letter, placing it in her breast pocket. It would act as armor against her conscious. To save so many she would sacrifice one. Give one to the Opera Ghost and he would leave them all alone. Many sleepless nights were to come she knew, but how many sleepless nights had Erik spent, alone in his tomb, weeping, craving only some form of human affection, companionship. Did the girl deserve to suffer because Erik deserved some peace? No, the girl would be subjected to his lusts, his darker fantasies, all that had been denied him for so many years, but it was for the greater good. And perhaps her gentle nature, her sweet compassion for those around her, would temper his rage and inspire gentleness in him. Eventually Giry's guilt would pass, and life would go on, and the safety of all triumphs the happiness of one.

She found Nicolette in the dormitory, trying to teach one of the younger girls a simple plie`. She smiled and encouraged her, but corrected her gently with a soft tone that had the girl trying even harder. Giry pinched her lips together as she watched the girl's sweet face brighten when the little child finally mastered it. Her blonde hair was in a neat bun on top of her head, as all the dancers were required to have, and her eyes clear and blue. When she saw Madam Giry she stood at attention, looking like a little lost doe. Giry swallowed, finding both ease and sickness at the sight. She was obedient, responsive to authority. Erik would like that, but whether that would be her undoing or her survival Giry did not know.

"Nicolette Pinot," she said and watched the girl pale in fear. "Come with me."

The girl nodded and followed. It was late, just ten minutes before curfew, but she was still dressed in her dancing clothing. She gripped her white skirt nervously as they walked down the halls together. She did not ask what they were doing or where they were going. She was always good like that. Silent and obedient. Hopefully Erik would not completely destroy her. Her feet made little soft pitter patter on the floor as she follower Giry and it nearly ripped her heart out. Only just sixteen, stuck in between the mind of a child and the body of a woman. What horrors lay before her now? What was Giry about to deliver her into? It did not do anything to help ease Giry's guilt that this beautiful blonde haired, blue eyes cherub was dressed all in white, about to be handed over to the devil himself. If only the world could have been kinder. If only Christine might have loved him back. Giry feels Nicolette hesitate as they begin to descend lower. Her lower lip trembles slightly. Her eyes wide with fear and trepidation. She looks at Giry, questions in her eyes, but Giry only beckons her forward.

"Am I being sent away, Madame?" she asks and Giry feels her throat constrict. "I can get better I promise, Madame. I will work even harder. It's my ankles. I broke one when I was a child, and I know it's not an excuse, but I will get better I promise."

"You are not being sent away," she lies. The girls fears seem abated, but she is still curious.

"Why are we going into the catacombs? I thought these were off limits," she asks in her soft voice.

"They are, but tonight I must show you something. Just come with me and be silent," Giry tells her, unable to stand the innocent trust and questions. She leads her deeper into the maze, the tunnels the girl could never hope to remember even if she did escape Erik's clutches. These would be her prison walls. Little else would be needed to stop her, though Erik would not doubt add precautions. He would not let this one leave him. Not this time. With each turn they took she could feel Nicolette's fear grow, her uneasiness. When they finally arrived at their destination (Giry's destination anyway, Nicolette would be going further), Nicolette's lower lips trembles, her eyes wet.

"I don't like it down here," she says softly. She shivers. It is cold and wet and she is only in her thin ballerina costume. Her shoes are nearly soaked through and her toes are freezing.

"It is just through there," Giry tells her, pointing at a doorway. Nicolette frowns.

"What is?" she sked and Giry motions for her to go through. She forces a pleasant smile to her face.

"A surprise for you, Mademoiselle, for all the hard work you have been doing."

The way her eyes lit up, the smile it brought to her pink lips, it broke Giry's heart.

"Truly? Oh, Madame, I have been trying so hard," she smiled and Giry could only motion for her to go through the door again. She did not trust herself to speak. Her voice would get caught in her throat, resulting in a strangled moan that better represented the conflict tearing her apart inside.

She is just one girl, Madame Giry thinks as she follows Nicolette to the door. One girl and I will save hundreds of lives possibly. He will not hurt her to badly, not if she does what he wants.

Nicolette steps through the doorway, trying to look around in the darkness. Madame Giry sets her torch aside and grips the heavy, steel door. Nicolette is confused but tries to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"I cannot see anything, Madame," she calls softly, stepping blindly into the darkness. Giry sees her, a little white form in the blackness. She suddenly knew her fate. She would be consumed by him, by his darkness, his anger and hate. Her innocence would fade and in turn there would be nothing but black. Giry choked back a little sob. "Madame?"

Giry pushes on the heavy steel door with all her might. It screeches in protest, a long echo rattling through the bowels of the Opera. Nicolette whirls around, but Giry cannot see the terror on her face. Finally the door dislodges and swings shut, a deafening clamor filling her ears. She can hear only Nicolette's faint cries through the heavy door, the little banging of her fragile fists. She's crying through, that Giry can tell. The girl belonged to him now. Giry could only hope that she had made the right decision.

()

A/N: Let me know what you think please! I hope to update the next chapter relatively soon because I have about half of it written, though most updates won't be so fast.

Please Review!

(PS: Other chapters will be much longer, this is only the prologue.)