"I don't think I can take another step, monsieur." She was winded and barely upright, her rescuer now becoming her new jailer, with his bony fingers imprisoning her wrist in a painfully tight grip.

"You will keep walking or get left behind. Would you like that? You will be facing a firing squad if they take you back. It is where the others went, and you will be no different." He spared a glance for her. "It's what happened to the two women in the cell with you- shot and shoved unceremoniously into a ditch. Killing has become an avocation for these cretins, and there is no sign of it ending soon."

He was talking all the while as the two of them put distance between themselves and the Communards. Louise had known all along what became of the others. Of Cosette. Dear God, her poor friend. She was no longer naïve enough to expect last minute interventions. But to have him speak of it in such a cold-hearted manner, made her wonder at his humanity. Or lack of it. She hurriedly swallowed a sob, and concentrated on keeping up with him and his punishing gait.

They came out of the corridor and into a wider area of broken stone which crunched beneath their feet. She caught the dull sheen of water and sucked in a breath. There had been talk of a lake beneath the opera house, but most had merely scoffed at that. He led her to the edge of the water and stopped. To her it looked cold and oily, the ripples appearing like so many wriggling silver and ebony snakes. She shuddered with dread.

"How deep is it?" she whispered anxiously, eying the black surface with misgiving. "I-I can not swim."

He didn't answer her, but once again cursed whatever mad imp had led him to involvement with this tedious girl child. She was quickly proving to be a nuisance. "Stay here and be silent." He dropped her arm and she rubbed where his grip had pinched her. She was tired and hungry, nearly collapsing where she stood, but stopped herself in time. She had no wish to anger her strange companion. She could sense his growing impatience with her, and didn't want to be abandoned to the dark and the mercy of the Communards again.

After a few minutes she heard a slight scraping, and the man returned, pulling a small boat through the water parallel to the edge. "Get in," he said, voice clipped.

She did as told and the man followed, lightly jumping in and pushing off with an oar. He picked up a second oar and began rowing swiftly into the darkness before them. Louise shivered and hugged her arms around her body. She could see his eyes searching the gloom for any movement, and she shuddered again. "I heard tales of a lake down here, but never believed any of them."

He said nothing for a moment, then cut his eyes in her direction. She felt a quiver of fear now when he turned them on her- they were unnatural, and she didn't care for them at all. What had once given her a modicum of comfort in the cell, now made her uneasy.

She had been looking desperately for a sign from anyone- anything that would prove her not forsaken. She had taken that citrine gaze as proof that she was not alone, but he was oddly invisible to her in the chill dark until she caught a flash from those unholy eyes. Then she felt as though she were moving in a dreamscape, and reality as she knew it, left far behind. Maybe her mind had truly collapsed under the weight of her despair, a petrified Cosette being led away, finally sending her plummeting over the edge. There was another velvet chuckle from him- her ears were also a part of the conspiracy to drive her insane, and they were working very well in this particular nightmare.

Feeling slightly panicky, she tried to get him to speak. His voice was beautiful. Surely he had a handsome face to go with it. His tone though was cold, but she wished only to hear it again. His silence was unnerving to her. "It is very strange, monsieur. Like a tale told to entertain children."

"Erik could tell you many strange tales, mam'selle. You would be amazed, I dare say."

"E-Erik?"

He paused in his rowing for a moment, and bowed easily from the waist. "At your service, Mademoiselle- Louise, is it not?"

"Yes. Louise..."

"Well, we are arrived," he smoothly interrupted her, and with a dramatic flair, swept a long arm out. "Welcome to my humble abode." He hopped out of the boat, nimble as any monkey, and tugged it toward him. "Out with you, and be quick about it. It doesn't pay to linger much these days, as I am sure you understand."

She hurriedly left the boat, stumbling as she did so. He made no move to help her. Once again he bade her to wait for him, and pulled the little boat down the edge of the lake until the darkness swallowed him. She stared hard into the inky shadows, trying to penetrate the gloom with no success. She was confused. Home? They hadn't stepped outside; she was certain of that.

When he returned, he grasped her elbow and guided her away from the water, crossing to an area where the shadows disappeared into the perpetual blackness. She wouldn't allow herself to consider how precarious her situation was- into the darkness with a man she wouldn't even recognize in the light of day. A man who saved her from an ignominious death- a death for no other reason than which side she appeared to be on.

Louise was wholly dependent on Erik to guide her- it was difficult to see anything, but he seemed to be completely at ease. Finally to her relief, he halted and she could hear sly movements in the dark. "Enter, young Louise. My home is...your home." Sarcasm came heavy from his lips as he gave her a little nudge forward. She stepped into a room where pale light suddenly flared, and the door closed, shutting them inside and away from any prying eyes. He turned from lighting the wall lamp, and found her staring wide-eyed at him.

"You wear a mask." It was said quietly, almost as if she had instead remarked on his choice of neckwear, which in this case was a navy blue Belcher tie. Her tired mind was trying to process too much information at once; an emaciated man, long limbs seeming to go on endlessly- a scarecrow standing before her wearing a black mask which covered nearly all of his face, save for nearly non-existent lips and a bony chin. It was a macabre sight, and coupled with the fact that his home was in the cellars of an opera house, it made her feel even less awake and more like she was moving through a disturbing and vexing dream. Seeking clarity, she viciously pinched herself. It hurt.

Her intention wasn't lost on Erik. Cocking his head, he stared down at her with a knowing smirk. "You are indeed awake. Make no mistake about that."

He needn't have pointed out the obvious to her as she rubbed her bruised arm. Her eyes smarted as they adjusted to the lamp. Although it was soft candlelight, it was more than she was used to, as the flame cast flickering shadows on the stone walls.

Erik said nothing, standing very still as though waiting for her hysterics to begin. "Was it the war?" Louise had seen many men with terrible scars from the fighting around Paris, hiding faces torn apart by shot and shell, many of them missing eyes.

"The war?" He stared at her a moment more, then a laugh exploded out of his mouth, rolling around the room in a gleeful way that had nothing to do with amusement- it sounded half-mad, and she found herself taking a hasty step backward. He saw the movement and the laugh was abruptly silenced, though she swore she could still hear its echo. He observed her from eyes the color of gold coins.

"No, child. Nothing as simple as a war. But the wearer of this," and he indicated his mask, "has been engaged in battles because of it his entire life." He chuckled again, then stopped, seeing her dismay. "It is an affliction the Devil bestowed on me, young Louise. God in his infinite wisdom had nothing to do with it. But don't worry," he entreated her, "you will never see Erik's face."

She nodded, not sure of his mood; he was a stranger to her and an odd one at that. "I've never known anyone to live in an opera house before. Do you live alone?" She was edging toward a faded upholstered chair. She was exhausted, and she needed to sit down for a while, but his next words halted her progress.

"You ask too many questions. I would be very careful with that unseemly curiosity of yours." He eyed her as she stood swaying on her feet. "Sit down someplace before you fall down. I have to go out, and might be gone for some time."

"May I go with you? I'm very grateful for what you did, but I don't want to intrude on you any longer than necessary."

"I'm afraid you aren't going anywhere. It's far too dangerous. You will have to get used to the idea of living here for a while."

"It wouldn't be too dangerous for me. You can just..."

"Not for you, tiresome girl. I can move around much easier on my own without encumbrances- of which you are one. There are too many people all of a sudden in my domain. I came here to shut out the world- not have it move in with me." Once again, he was truculent and dismissive, proving she walked a fine line with this man, and seemed to veer ever closer to crossing it at her peril.

He tugged a rough workman's cap lower on his forehead and buttoned his coat- one which was worn and becoming threadbare. Quickly, he lit a kerosene lamp and trimmed the wick low. Handing it to her, he narrowed his eyes. "Stay out of my rooms, do you understand?" He pointed to the doorway on the right. There is a water closet just through there. I suggest you make use of soap and water, for you are in dire need of it. But go no further," he warned.

He turned and disappeared out the door. Louise waited a moment, listening closely, and convinced he was gone, stared nonplussed at where she had seen an open door. Before her was nothing but a seamless wooden wall that made up the front of this peculiar home. She ran a hand down the wall and felt nothing but smoothness as she looked for a telltale crack, and finding none, goggled at it until her eyes burned. Finally, in defeat, she turned away. She had exchanged one cell for another.

She gazed curiously around, her fear momentarily forgotten. The room was mostly bare and windowless, containing the floral parlor chair, a rosewood side table, and a green sofa whose nap was nearly bald in places. The walls, other than the front one, were rough stone, as was the floor; there was a fireplace with a carved stone mantel, but at the moment, the hearth held only cold ashes. How she wished with all of her heart for the warmth and cheer of a fire. To the right of the fireplace sat a small pile of wood which appeared to be the remnants of a chair. Doorways were to the left and right of the main room. Obviously he had made an effort to make the space into a suitable place to live.

Louise decided this would be a good time to visit the water closet. She emptied her bladder, finishing quickly, then filled a basin with cold water- there was no hot. Spying a small tin of soft soap, she quickly stripped her soiled clothing off, and washed the best she could, her skin pebbling with goosebumps from the icy water. There were no towels, so she used her dress to dry herself. She would have loved to have fresh clothes, but it was a luxury she didn't have anymore. Reluctantly she put back on her dirty dress. There was nothing she could do about her hair; it was matted and snarled from days of not feeling a brush through it. And filthy. She tidied up the small room and left it as she found it, her feet taking her across the hall to a partially open door. Holding her breath, she gave it a push and peeked inside.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the musical notes painted meticulously in black letters on ledger lines round the entire room near the ceiling. All the symbols were there- treble clef, key signature, time signature. She knew it well. It was the Dies Irae- The Day of Wrath. She swallowed and forced her gaze away, noting the iron bedstead in one corner of the room, the bed neatly made and a blanket folded at its foot. A small wooden stand held a half melted candle in a tin holder, and a book using a folded piece of paper, kept its place marked.

The last item of furniture in the room was a kitchen chair, but what caught her eye was what was sitting on it. It was an old violin, its finish worn off on portions of the chin rest and neck. Intrigued, she started toward it, but stopped. She didn't think it would be wise to anger her erstwhile host just yet. He seemed already to be regretting her presence in his home.

She went back to the main room and sat down on the sofa. Drowsy, she stretched out on her side and curled into a ball, closing her eyes. At the least, she was more comfortable now than she'd been in the squalid dungeon cell, but was she any safer? She heaved a ragged sigh and fought to stay awake as she waited for him to return, but before long, sleep pulled her down into its waiting arms.

The sound of the door opening woke her. She sat up, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. Erik walked over to the sofa and stood silently observing her. He was holding a small covered pail, which he held up for her inspection. "Hungry? I have soup. Come and eat some." He indicated the doorway on the left. "The kitchen is just through there."

"Soup? Monsieur, it has been so long since I have tasted something other than stale bread!" Louise jumped up from the sofa and followed him shyly into a plain room holding a small black stove, a scrubbed wooden counter, and a kitchen table with one chair tucked up to it.

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. "Yes. It might work very well. That rat's nest of hair will have to go, and a better dress," he muttered, looking her up and down, "then we shall see."

It had occurred to him that he could use the girl. It was only a matter of time before he was caught in his raids against Commune storehouses; in particular, the storerooms above his head. He helped himself to the food stored in the theatre whenever he couldn't find it elsewhere, but he was cautious about taking it so near to his home. If caught, it would not go well for him- they would make certain he was put on display before executing him, and he would rather not be the object of further derision and scorn.

But with the girl he could perhaps bring in a few francs. The idea had come to him as he made his nightly forage for food. It was worth a try, for what else was he to do with her? To let her go would leave him open to arrest if she gave the location of his home away. He shied away from killing her; he was no stranger to death; after all, they had much in common, didn't they? But killing a woman was something he had never done lightly. He continued his careful perusal of her.

"Yes. We must think about it."

Louise didn't care at all for the way he was talking to himself and studying her. She hovered there, eying the pail of soup hungrily, for she could smell it now, and her stomach rumbled eagerly in reply. She was however, uncertain of him again.

"Sit down, girl and eat!" She jumped when he barked at her, and dragged her gaze away from the pail to his masked face again, before sitting down at the table. He went to a tall green cabinet, and took out one soup bowl, filling it from the pail. He set it in front of her with a spoon, and watched as she took a bite. Then another. The soup was thin with very few vegetables, and no meat whatsoever, but Louise didn't care. It tasted wonderful.

She looked up at Erik, and remembering her manners, reluctantly set her spoon down. She wasn't a common guttersnipe. "Aren't you eating?"

"No," he said shortly. He observed her as she stared glumly at her nearly empty bowl. He sighed, and poured the rest of the soup into it, and gestured for her to continue, watching as she made the second serving disappear as quickly as the first. He left the room and returned with the wooden chair from his bedchamber and sat down across from her; unconsciously, she leaned away from him. He waited, curbing his impatience until she finished. She used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth, feeling marginally better with something in her belly.

"How long were you in training?" he asked her abruptly.

"Training?"

"Don't be foolish. You know exactly what I'm asking," he replied harshly.

She licked her lips, sad that all the soup was gone, but surprised at his knowledge. "Two years at the Salle Ventadour." She looked up at him curiously. "How did you know?"

"It's fairly obvious to anyone familiar with the corps de ballet. Your stance, the way you walk." He snorted. "Even in the way you place your hands. A petite rat. How delightful." He leaned back in his chair and surveyed her closely. "You must miss it."

To Louise's finely attuned ears, Erik sounded pleased. That was encouraging. "The doors closed when the siege began. Yes, I miss it. Someday I hope to go back and continue, but Cosette...Cosette w-won't be there. She was a student also. Older than me by two years. She was my dear friend and now s-she is gone." She twisted her fingers together, not wishing to cry in front of this man. "She was the last one taken away from our cell."

He continued watching her, and again she was reminded of a large bird of prey. She involuntarily shivered. "Yes, I know. Where is your mother?"

"Dead." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "She was killed when a shell exploded in our street. T-Three months ago."

"And your father? Is he alive?"

She shook her head. "He was conscripted into the army for the defense of the city last year, and...and killed in the fighting atop Montmartre. I was living in the streets with several others after my mama...after..." She took a deep breath. "I was forced out of our apartment by the landlord when she died. I had no money and I...well, I wouldn't d-do what he wanted me to..." She swallowed hard and scrubbed at her eyes. They felt gritty from lack of sleep. "My mama did what she could to keep a roof over our heads, monsieur, but I hated Chaput. He was a dirty, coarse man, and I...I-"

When Erik merely sat and said nothing, she haltingly continued. "W-With no home, a small group of us kept together for safety. It was better than n-nothing, until the day Cosette and I were separated from the rest and brought here. They accused us of supporting the Republic." Louise shook her head violently. "No such thing! My father didn't go willingly into the army. They made him! And...and my mother and I only did what we could to stay alive. The same with Cosette and me. They ruin lives, these...these-"

"Yes, quite." He ignored her outburst. "Do you have any other relatives in the city?"

Stung, she replied tiredly, "No. Only my Tante Maria in Naples. My father was born there. My mama is...was from Marseilles, and was a dancer herself at the old opera in the rue le Peletier, but after she met my father, she gave it up. They married and settled here thinking they could make a better life." Louise smiled bitterly. "It didn't work very well for them, did it?"

Just as he suspected. She had no one. Just like him. And just like him he heard the abject loneliness in her voice, but unlike her, he'd had years of isolation to become used to it- to embrace it. He gave up his relaxed demeanor and leaned forward. "No. It did not," he agreed, looking into her weary hazel eyes.

Her sigh was despondent. "What is to become of me now, I wonder?"

"Perhaps I can help."

"How?"

"You may stay here. With me. You will have a roof over your head- food, such as it is, and my protection. No one will harm you. Safe from Communards and the Republic alike." To his credit, he felt a twinge of regret, but only a little. It didn't last long enough to change his mind.

"I have a business proposition for you."