New York City, my hell sweet hell full of grey and black that seemed to be forged especially for me and me alone. These cold city streets embrace me each morning with the bitter bouquet of cigarettes and sewage, the night lulls me to sleep with the screams and shouts of angry citizens, tin vaudeville from the local bars and my own weeping song. The abundant skyscrapers greet me each morning like an angry jury of concrete and steel, glaring down at me with hatred and contempt.

Hah, as though I hadn't grown up with that cold, frightful stare as my constant companion. I was a monster, a creature of the night that belonged nowhere and with no one. As she had made so perfectly clear, my love, the only light in my dreary existence. The Goddess who so readily opened her arms for me, then just as readily turned me away.

Ahh...not that I deserved her. I'd done great wrongs, terrible wrongs for which there can be no right. I stole, I lied, I intimidated, I killed. I deserved loneliness, I deserved a life of solitude, a life where I could break away from my failed empire and return to a life of being ignored. This city, this racing town filled with cold and distant people who barely spare a passing glance away from their seemingly important lives is just the place I need.

It was far away from them, far away from her, far away from everything.

Or so I thought...

My Dearest Friend Meg,

I pray this letter finds you in good health and great happiness, especially since we have not seen one another since the wedding. I trust the trip to New York was uneventful? I certainly hope so. I've wonderful news for you, my friend. Raoul's work will be taking him to your new home within the next month and I'm to accompany him! We're to stay with you for a few weeks or so. I've longed to see you and share all the experiences I've had on my excursion to India and London. It'll be as when we were children in the dormitories of the Opera Popilaire, but I digress. Stay safe in New York, I've heard it can be as dangerous as it is beautiful.

Sincerely,

Christine

A smile crept across Meg's lips as she read and re-read the letter that had been delivered to her during breakfast. The two blondes had been settled in the grandiose mansion of Madame Giry's friend Mr. Levante for about three days now, time that contrary to popular belief seemed to crawl by since arriving.

It was not that Meg was ungrateful or belittling of their temporary home, the two story French styled chateau that sat perfectly in the middle of 16 forest covered acres was absolutely awe inspiring. Meg hardly spent her first day indoors, opting to venture out to the stables for a ride through the country and a few hours on the lake. She loved the hunting and the fishing and sitting out on the lanai and gazing at the abundance of stars. It was just that she was a city child, born and bred in the heart of Paris. The hustle and bustle of the metropolitan areas ran through her veins, her soul cried for chaos and cacophony.

"You seem happy, good news, my pet?" Madame Giry asked, her long hair cascaded down her left shoulder which was jutted upwards as she was leaning on the armrest of the chair at the head of the table; one hand was curled around a piping hot cup of coffee, the other was cradling a crisp newspaper. Her weathered eyes had been watching her daughter as she read the letter Charlotte, Monsieur Levante's maid had handed to her.

Meg looked up at her mother and nodded, "It's wonderful news, Mam'a," she said eagerly, setting down the letter and buttering a hot bun, "Christine is coming to visit!"

Madame Giry smiled, "I know," she said, "She and the Viscount de Chagny are to stay with us. I'd been dying to tell you, but thought it best if Christine told you herself. Are you excited?"

"Very much so, I've missed her dearly," Meg admitted.

"I've even more exciting news, Mr. Levante is to hold a ball here when she arrives."

"A ball, why?"

"Well, she'll be arriving around the time the opera opens and as a benefactor to the opera and a large fan of Christine, he's insisted upon holding it here." Madame Giry explained.

An abrupt ringing sound made them both jump, both mother and daughter alike looked around in utter bewilderment, trying to locate the source of the sound. It would stop, then ring out again, then stop, then ring out again.

"Charlotte!" Madame Giry called out, frightened.

Mr. Aberdeen, the lanky old groundskeeper responded, lumbering through the dining room towards the kitchen, "No need ta be froightnened, mum," he stated in a butchered English accent, "it's just theh tel-e-phone."

He disappeared into the kitchen, the ringing stopped and was followed by Mr. Aberdeen's voice, "Mr. Levante's residence...yes you may connect him...Mr. Levante's residence...yes, she's here...one moment please...thank you."

Madame Giry and Meg looked at one another in total confusion, Madame Giry mouthed a quizzical 'Telephone?' to Meg, who just shrugged. They turned in unison to look at Mr. Aberdeen as he made his way into the dining room, "There's a telephone call for you, Madame Giry." He stated with a bow.

With the help of Mr. Aberdeen the two blondes got to use a new and rather fascinating invention designed to allow two people to talk from over a great distance apart. Madame Giry had to be taught the basics, such as not screaming into the mouth horn and how to hold the receiver to her ear so she could hear what the person was saying. Being younger, Meg took to the idea of the machine faster and laughed as her mother attempted to talk to the wooden box hanging to the wall as though the person was inside. As she got over her initial shock from the abrupt ringing, Meg remembered hearing of this new Telephone idea but had no idea that it was already being implemented commercially, she couldn't wait to see the look on Christine's face when the phone rang, if it ran, and she really hoped it would.

Meg watched her mother end the conversation, "Who was it, Mama?" she asked.

"Monsieur Diversey, he says I'm needed at the opera," she said, handing the receiver to Mr. Aberdeen.

Meg frowned, "But what about our shopping plans?" she asked, dejected. The reason they were up so early was because they'd planned to spend the day in the city getting necessities, new clothes and ballet shoes.

"They're not cancelled, Morgana, don't make such a childish fuss." She scolded, earning a subjugated frown from her daughter as the use of her full name, "I'll just have to make a little detour while we're in town. Now," she said with a stomp of her favorite teaching cane, "Hurry up and get your coat, we depart in a few minutes."