While she found the voice of her Angel intoxicating, Christine took his hand willingly. She had desired to meet her teacher for years, and now she was face to face with him. She gave a smile as she noted a white mask covering half of his face. She wondered why, but his song carried her questions away. Christine followed, her hand in his, down through the secret halls of the opera house.

She was surprised when they started down a staircase, one that she had never known of. She wondered if they were even in the opera house anymore. However, her Angel seemed confident and certain that he knew where he was going, so she followed him. He led her deep down to a strange place. The room was covered with deep water, with hallways and tunnels along the wall. As they walked down, there was a small row boat with a lantern lit near the bottom of the stairs.

Her Angel helped her onto the boat before getting on himself, singing a ballad that she had not heard before. He stood, much like the gondoliers of Venice, and pushed the boat along through the water. She held the side of the boat as she listened, entranced by the melody. Even in the dimly lit area that smelt of mildew and stagnant water, she hardly cared. She trusted her Angel to take her to safety.

A portcullis along the wall rose as they neared it, showing an area lit with candles and that was furnished lavishly. Christine was awestruck, wondering if this was where her Angel spent his time during the day. He pushed the boat to the shore before disembarking. He offered his hand to her with a knowing smile, and she took it as he helped her to her feet again.

"I have brought you here to my home for one purpose," her Angel informed as he guided her up the stairs. She stared at him, too entranced to reply. "I want you to sing for me, to help me create my music."

"Your music?"

"Yes, your voice is perfect for my music. You are perfect for my music."

"My voice," Christine whispered, dazed. The Angel smiled and nodded. He guided her to the organ and had her sit next to him.

"I am composing an opera," he whispered. Christine nodded absently, leaning into him. The Angel froze and stared at her. He never thought that she would be so comfortable in his cave of a home. However, it seemed that she adapted far better than he believed.

Without another word, he reached and caressed her face as Christine gazed at him. He glanced at her lips, wondering if he dared. A moment of clarity came over him, and he stopped. She seemed to still be under his trance. Instead he kissed her forehead.

Unable to handle her staring, he stood again. Christine watched him as he removed his cape and outstretched his hand again. She took it with a smile as he guided her toward his mirrors. Christine followed him as he started singing to further enchant her. This one was slower and seemed to have a deeper affect on her.

"Let me show you something," he smiled, climbing the stairs. Christine took in her surroundings, strangely at ease with the situation. "I have something for you."

"What is it?" she laughed lightly as he lifted it up a curtain.

The small room behind was about the size of a broom closet, and it had several items seemingly on display. There were playbills from every opera ever performed at the Populaire, along with small trophies from each as well. There also was a stack of handwritten operas, ones she guessed he was talking about. His music. However, there was also a white dress on a mannequin in the middle.

"What is this?" she whispered, feeling faint.

"My muse," he answered softly. Christine looked up at him and smiled. "This helps me create my music."

"Why don't you show me your music?"

"All in good time. First, I think it would be best if you were to get some rest. You've been through a lot today. Your first performance was immaculate. An absolute wonder," the Angel informed, taking her to a couch along the wall.

"You saw me perform?"

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," he answered.

"How did you see? I thought the managers said it was sold out," Christine whispered, starting to come out of her daze a little.

"I instructed them to keep box five open for my use," the Angel informed plainly, turning toward her. "I'm anxious to see you perform as lead soprano in the future."

"But Signora Carlotta is lead soprano, and the diva of the Populaire. She's been the lead for years. Today was a once in a lifetime opportunity," Christine reminded with a sigh. She leaned on his shoulder before taking a deep breath.

"She doesn't have to be."

"Carlotta has the public, who loves her, and the managers are willing to bend over backwards for her. For now, I'm content as a chorus girl," she insisted, looking at him. "It will give me more time to study with you. I could help with your music."

"You want to help with my music?"

"Of course, you said that I would be perfect for it," Christine reminded.

The Angel laughed under his breath before he stood. He had a horrible feeling about what was happening, a guilt rose up from his stomach. He didn't deserve any of this, and he certainly didn't deserve Christine by his side.

"Do you not want my help?" she wondered.

"There is nothing that I would love more than your voice assisting me," the Angel answered as she stood as well. "I was just surprised that you were so interested in helping me."

"Why wouldn't I want to help the man who helped me with my voice?" Christine chuckled, walking up to him. "Would you rather send me away?"

"Of course not, but the men who run my theatre will wonder where you are."

"Let them wonder. I'm sure Carlotta will return in time. She might angry for a day or two, but she always comes back."

"Unfortunately," the Angel sighed before glancing at Christine. He hadn't sung for a few moments, and yet she was still there in front of him. She wasn't frightened or concerned. She seemed excited and interested, things that he hadn't expected. The outright rejection didn't come, and he wondered if it would.

"Although, I think Meg might wonder where I am," Christine murmured, turning away for a moment.

"Meg?"

"One of my colleagues. Madame Giry's daughter."

"Ah, I don't think we have to worry about her missing you," the Angel remarked, as he knew Madame Giry very well. Christine gave a puzzled look, but he smiled at her. "Everything will be fine. Madame Giry is my contact with those new buffoons they call managers."

"Oh," Christine answered, surprised to hear that. She guessed that made the most sense, as Madame Giry was the one that knew all the ins and outs of the theatre. It would also explain how she knew that she was being taught by a great teacher.

"While I admire your enthusiasm, you must be tired. I think it would be best for you to rest," the Angel informed. Christine straightened, realizing that she was imposing on him.

"If it would be easier, I could go back to the dormitories for the night and come back in the morning," she answered as the Angel raised an uncovered eyebrow.

"If you would prefer," he whispered. There was a brief silence before Christine took a deep breath.

"I would prefer to stay, but I don't want to impose," she answered calmly. "It would be easier if I stayed."

"Then stay."

The Angel smiled again, giving Christine some relief. He seemed to actually want her there, despite the short notice. Of course, he did guide her down there, but who knew how long he had expected to entertain her.

"I'll sleep on the couch then," she smiled.

"There's no need for that. I can sleep on the sofa," the Angel insisted. "Please, I insist. If you want to help me, you'll need a good night's rest. You'll be singing a lot tomorrow."

"Only for tonight," she informed as he dipped his head in a single nod. Christine nodded as she stood still for a moment.

"I will show you to your room," the Angel chuckled, grabbing her hand again. Christine nodded, a little more on edge than before.