DISCLAIMER:

I don't own anything. The Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston Leroux. Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote the musical. Susan Kay gave the Persian a name in her novel Phantom, so Nadir is her creation. Though he was a real person, the novel Dracula comes from Bram Stoker. Some elements are from the movie by Francis Ford Coppola.

DEDICATION:

To my dear grandfather. May this story give you something to smile about in heaven, Papa. I miss you.

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T o C o n q u e r A n A n g e l

by Delilah Draken

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~ Prologue ~

It was a cold night in December…

I know how stupid it sounds to starts a narrative like this but I don't know any other way to do it. Then I didn't have much knowledge of writing or storytelling, and today I don't know it either. But it seems so right to tell you this. I have this feeling like the story wants to be told. It wants to be told like it was told to me in this cold night in December.

I was doing quite well in my new job. The customers liked me; I got enough money in one night to take the next one off. I was a good life for a prostitute. But one night everything changed.

He was a new one. I just saw him for a short moment and knew he would not be easy to please. He simply screamed wealth and old nobility. First I thought he didn't want my service, but I was wrong. God, how wrong I was.

I was prepared to do his wishes as he surprised me. "I don't want that, Miss. Not yet. But I would be delighted if you could listen to me. I need to tell someone what really happened. Perhaps after this confession I may be able to make my peace with the world."

He paid me an enormous sum only to sit in this little room and listen to him. I didn't understand this behaviour. He just stood at the window staring out in the night and told me the story of his life

And now this story will be told to you through me. He wanted the world to know what really happened. The world shall know it…

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~ Chapter One ~

"You are going to starve to death if you don't go out and find some food."

Her voice was quite an annoyance, but I couldn't blame her for her protectiveness. She was only a seven-year-old child. A child with an extraordinary intellect, but nevertheless only a child. Sometimes it scared me how she thought about things, how she understood the circumstances of my live and why I lived then like I live now.

Elaine knew all my secrets. Every one of them. It was in her nature to know these things, and it was also her nature to guard all she knew till the day her existence ceased to be. But today she was strangely open; her face gleamed with happiness. This disturbed me for I had never seen this girl happy. Thoughtful, amused and certainly laughing about something only she could understand with her odd sense of humour. Happy was a word not included in her extreme wide vocabulary. So why was she showing this disturbing emotion?

"Oh Master, I have found the perfect friend for you. He plays the violin so beautifully. He is intelligent. He is just like you. You will love him." On and on went her story of how and when she found this mysterious boy who was destined by her to be my future guardian. "…and you have to go see him like now. I would never forgive me if I let you dwelve in your depressions like you have done all my life. You will be very lonely after we went away with Sean to visit his family. I want you to be happy and I know that Erik can help you."

My mind seemed to have taken a vacation because I didn't know who she talked about. "Erik?…" Elaine answered with a tale about this boy's astonishing capacities. He was capable of singing like an angel, but would never speak to anyone who talked to him. He played the violin like he was born to do it. He was a magician who roamed the mountains on top of a black dragon. The people said he was the devil's son. I didn't believe on word. But I was curious and so my beautiful and smart little princess Elaine accomplished her task of getting me out of the house. It didn't occur to me till years later that she manipulated me. She played me like a musician an instrument and I let it happen although I hate to be controlled.

I went to the fair to see for myself this mysterious boy who captured my girl's heart in an instance.

To say I was shocked would be the greatest misconception of the century. I expected to see some clever gypsy child with more tricks down his sleeve than myself, but what I saw took my breath away.

She didn't lie about his living conditions. This boy was forced to live in a cage not more than 4 square meters with no walls but ceiling and floor. To get the perfect effect he was also bound to the iron bars of the cage. I could tell he had been crying. His eyes were so empty it hurt to see him sitting on the cage floor motionless. He didn't move one muscle except the one needed to play the violin. I simply had to talk to him. I needed to understand him. I had to get the answers to my questions.

He didn't react to my speaking. Perhaps he didn't understand me. Perhaps I used the wrong language…

"I am quite capable of understanding you, Sir." He spoke in perfect Romanian. Even without the hint of an accent, but I knew he was not from my country. He was too sure about his surroundings to be one of my people.

"I see you had a good teacher. Were you taught to speak my language by the same one who taught you to play?"

Now it seemed I had hurt him. There was this terrible pain in his eyes that burned right to my soul, that is if I possessed one.

"No one taught me to speak and my music tutor is not of your interest, Monsieur." Now he was angry. White hot rage stole away all his reason and made him go at me. Fortunately the bars of the cage were between us. I would have suffered some serious injuries if that hadn't been the case.

"I seem to have found some circus boy with a bit of temperament. Say, what would you say if I let you out of this cage?" That quieted him the same moment the words left my mouth.

"What would you have me do to acquire my freedom?" Was that hate in his eyes? Did I hear the cold loathing in his voice or did I imagine it? I knew I had to make him forget this fears which crept in his thoughts. I would never do such things to an unwilling partner, man or woman.

"I would never do what you think, Boy." The hate was ebbing but the distrust was still there. "I would never take a partner who doesn't come willingly to me."

"You wouldn't… want payment, Monsieur?" Why did he sound like a small child? He was perhaps 15 of 16 years old, so why this childlike voice? I began to hate the men who owned this travelling fair. What had they done to this boy?

"Nothing you don't want to give freely." I walked away from the cage and looked for the owners. What I told them to let him go, I don't remember. Perhaps something about him being my long lost son and heir to my fortune. Perhaps they were afraid of me. I really don't know what it was but they accepted my money and set him free.

"You told them WHAT?" I was amusing to hear him that surprised.

"I told them that I am your father, that you are the heir to my name and fortune and that I would pay any sum they deemed necessary to free you. I simply told them the lies they less expected to hear." He followed me quietly. I wondered then how a human being could walk so silent. Not a sound was made by his footsteps. Than he stopped and stared at me.

"I know what you are. I don't know who you are but I know what you are." This cold words spoken with his silken voice made me turn around and watch him watching me. Quite some time went by before any of us would make a move.

"I am Vlad Tepez Draculea. To your service, Monsieur Master Violinist."

"Erik. Your obedient servant, Monsieur le vampire."

Only after this first introduction did I see that the right side of his face was covered by a mask. I now knew who he was, but he never told me what he was. A human being he was not, that was as sure as I was dead for more than one century.

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~ Interlude ~

"You try to play a Louis with me? I have read all the novels. I don't believe in people saying they are vampires. Such things only happen in novels… or movies."

He stared at me with cold detachment. He wasn't interested in anything I could offer. He only wanted some poor soul to tell his story. In this moment, while he watched me watching him, I felt terribly sorry for this man. He had to be very lonely to go to a whore, a very expensive one but nevertheless a whore, to find a listening ear. What was it that made him going? What severe pain did he hide behind his crystal blue eyes? Eyes of such a light blue you have to look twice to see they really have some color.

"You know, all this legends, the novels and films you watch in cinemas give you a totally wrong picture of the undead. First we don't have to sleep trough the day, in the past it was only a way of passing the time. Today we've got cable TV and computers to entertain us for hours. It isn't necessary anymore to hide from daylight. We simply don't leave the house and watch the world outside protected by UV-proof windows."

"You don't sleep?" What a silly question. You just get smarter in your old age, Trisha. Now he thinks you don't believe him, which you don't do, but the trust of the customer is always good.

"Oh but I trust you, little one. But let me go on with my story. You have to understand what a man Erik was, what horrors hid behind his knowing gaze and how he saw the world and its inhabitants, to truly see the whole picture. I don't try to tell you about my life. I don't want you to know all the little secrets and wisdoms of vampirism. I want you to see him in all his glory. I want you to get a glimpse of his genius, of his curse. I want you… No, I need you to know the pain of a child who withered and died in his search for acceptance. A child who in his yearning for love was forced to hide all that made him the man he was behind a mask because the world was afraid of him."

"He was feared because of what he was. Like a vampire he was able to act like a human, to -look- like a human and hide in the masses. But like a child of the undead he couldn't hide for long…

T o B e C o n t i n u e d