Glancing at the mantel clock, Victoria realized she had barely an hour. She flew upstairs to change into a more appropriate dress. She was rummaging through her close, looking for a dress, when she found the cloak he had given her the previous night. Victoria hurried to pull on a silk gown of the palest lavender and shoved her feet into matching slippers. She grabbed the black velvet cloak and rushed downstairs, pulling her own cloak on as she ran out the door.

She paused as she stepped out of her carriage to give instructions to her coachman that she would hire a carriage home. She glanced around to see if anyone was around who would see her before she slipped inside the gate.

Victoria cast a nervous glance about her, not allowing herself to relax this time when she saw nothing; even so, she jumped and nearly screamed when she felt a hand clamp down onto her shoulder.

She spun around and looked up into his face. When she saw the harsh look he wore, she took a nervous step back away from him.

"What is it you want?" she inquired, hoping she hid her fear well.

"I would like to know what you and your brother talked about," the man responded smoothly.

"That is personal family business," she retorted, hoping to discourage this line of conversation.

He chuckled.

"It is hardly a secret that the Comte is not pleased with his younger brother's choice in female companionship…I assume he forbade the marriage?"

She bit her lip as she shook her head.

"No Monsieur…he plans going to stay out of Raoul's affairs and trust his judgment in this matter."

He stiffened at this unexpected news.

"I suppose you had a hand in this?" he spat.

She furrowed her brow.

"I just want my brother to be happy. Christine makes him happy. How can I deny him that?" She saw his fists clench, and became very aware that she was treading a very thin line. "What is it you want from me?" she asked again, after a moment of tense silence.

"Merely information, I am afraid I don't keep up with gossip for the most part, and I would like to keep an eye on my angel…you have the information I seek readily available to you."

"I shall not spy on my brother for you," she responded, horrified at the idea of spying on her brother and friend.

He glared at her.

"If you value his safety you will Mademoiselle."

She paled and raised her hand to her throat.

"You wouldn't!"

He looked at her intently, challenging her to doubt his sincerity. She took a shuddering breath.

"This is despicable! How can she ever trust you if you have me slinking about in the shadows reporting on her every move?" she shouted.

"You didn't seem to mind when you were spying on us all on the roof," he sneered.

She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them up to look into his golden eyes.

"I suppose there is nothing I can do to stop this?" Her voice held a note of pleading in it.

His silence said volumes more than spoken words. She sighed in resignation.

"Than it seems that I have no choice."

"A very wise decision, Mademoiselle," he chuckled softly.

She glared at him as he approached her to remove his cloak from her shaking hands. He twirled it around his shoulders, then drew himself up to his full height. Her breath caught in her throat. He radiated sheer power. If she hadn't been so terrified of him, she might have found herself attracted to that power and the raw sensuality that she sensed. She pulled her cloak around her tighter, feeling the chill of the stone passageway. He stared at her for a long moment.

"Is there anything else you would like to know, Monsieur?" she asked.

He nodded, somewhat surprised at her acceptance.

"Much…" he answered cryptically, as she looked around the dark, out of the way passageway in which they stood. She shuddered when it occurred to her how easily he could kill her here. Her body would never been found.

It dawned on him as she stood shivering that standing there in the dark, chilly passageway might not be good for her health. Did he dare take her into his sanctuary? He thought of his other options, and growled to himself when he saw that taking her to his home was the only option open to them.

"Come!" he commanded.

She looked up at him, puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

He hesitantly held out a black leather clad hand to her. When she hesitated, he attempted to assuage her fears.

"It will get rather dark, I do not want you to become lost," he explained somewhat patiently.

Despite her misgivings, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her into his dark labyrinth. They walked in silence, each using the time to think about all that had occurred.

He took a deep breath and felt it catch in his throat at the fragrance of gardenias.

'Her perfume…' he thought to himself. He turned his head slightly to steal a look at her. She was very beautiful; her womanly beauty was not like Christine's childlike innocence. Victoria was a classic beauty. She had honey colored hair, which curled at the ends. She had a smooth, creamy complexion and eyes of deep sapphire blue. Had he not been so consumed with Christine he might have taken more interest in this exquisite beauty that trustingly followed him to his dark domain. He shook his head.

'She's not Christine,' he thought to himself.

Victoria watched him watching her, but wisely refrained from comment.

She tried to hide her surprise when they arrived at an underground lake.

"I never knew this was here," she said softly.

He turned to her and gestured to a small boat, that had seemed to appear from nowhere. She stepped in, uncertainly, and seated herself in the bow, then looked into the black water as he expertly poled them across the lake. Once they arrived at the dock on the other side, he jumped gracefully out and held out a hand to her to assist her from the boat. She stepped onto the slightly muddy ground and watched in confusion as he tapped on a small protruding rock.

A stone slab swung silently out to reveal an ordinary looking oak door. He opened the door and ushered her inside. The lavish furnishings she saw surprised her. She was so busy looking around she didn't realize he was waiting for her to remove her cloak so he could hang it up. He finally cleared his throat impatiently in an attempt to get her attention

She jumped, startled, and saw him waiting. She pulled her cloak off and handed it to him, watching as he hung it up next to his own before he led her to a drawing room. Victoria seated herself somewhat uncomfortably on a huge, plush leather sofa by the fire.

He cleared his throat again.

"What did Christine tell you?" he asked firmly.

She furrowed her brow.

"I thought I told you that was none of your business." She looked at him warily, knowing she shouldn't bet on his understanding. She sighed in frustration. "She told me about your deception, about the Angel of Music and about your…unpleasant reaction to her removal of your mask," she said softly.

He clenched his fists, but said nothing, which encouraged Victoria to continue. "She felt that she had been lied to; I believe she doesn't know what to think anymore. All she had thought, everything she had counted on to calm her has been stripped away from her. The Angel of Music and, to a lesser degree, her father, though that was many years ago…"

He closed his eyes as she related the details of his wicked deception.

"She told you about all that?" he asked, brokenly.

Victoria nodded slowly.

"The one thing she didn't tell me was your name."

He stiffened. His name…could he trust her with it? "My name? My name is… Erik," he said finally, after a few moments of hesitation.

She looked at him.

"Erik" she repeated softly. She straightened herself slightly, finding a more comfortable position on the sofa.

"She doesn't fear you…but I do believe she fears for Raoul," she said after an uncomfortable silence.

Something in his eyes changed then, although she couldn't identify what it was. She looked down at her hands.

"Why are you doing this to her?"

He stared at her, his eyes boring into her very soul.

"Because…I love her," he answered simply.

She met his gaze steadily.

"Does she love you?"

He shifted uncomfortably.

"Perhaps that is something you could tell me."

"I don't know…I haven't talked to her since yesterday. Raoul hasn't even called on me to tell me…" she trailed off realizing this might be rather painful for him. She looked around the room.

"Where did you get all these things?" she asked, hoping to distract him.

"On my travels around Europe, and the Middle East." He answered, dismissing the question with a wave of his hand.

Sensing a dead end, she sighed and slumped back into the sofa. He was about as talkative as a sponge!

"Your older brother will not stop the Vicomte from marrying Christine?" he asked, after a few moments of contemplation.

"No he won't. For the most part, he allows Raoul to do as he pleases."

"Do you agree with the match?" Erik asked with clenched fists, the only outward sign of his discontent.

She nodded.

"Yes I do. They are good together. I've always thought so," she answered carefully.

"That is enough…you will keep me updated," he said coldly before rising. "Come, I will return you to the surface"

She stood and followed him out of the underground house. Once he had returned her to the Rue Scribe, he left her with instructions to meet him there once a week at the same time. He placed a brass key into her hands but didn't bother explaining it to her.

"I will be in contact with you," he said before he disappeared.

'Insufferable man,' she thought to herself, as she hailed a passing hansom cab to return to her home. She was more than surprised upon her arrival to find Christine waiting impatiently for her in the drawing room.

Victoria entered the room and sat down wearily. "Christine, what's the matter?"

Christine smiled and pulled a chain from the front of her dress for Victoria to see. There was a crucifix on the chain, as well as a diamond engagement ring.

Victoria smiled in recognition of her mother's ring; it had always been passed down from one De Chagny bride to the next. "I'm so happy for you both!" she said sincerely, hoping she didn't betray her anxiety.

"Are you alright?" Christine queried.

Victoria nodded.

"I'm fine…I guess I'm still a little shaken up by last night…that's all."

Christine mused, "I…he's most likely very angry with me. I've betrayed him in the worst way."

Victoria gave her a puzzled look.

"I'm not certain that I understand."

Christine sighed, stating, "He has always insisted that I not see anyone. My focus is to be my music and nothing else. He is very strict about that."

'Shame on you, Erik,' Victoria thought angrily. Her anger faded, however, when she figured it was the only way Erik had been able to think of to keep Christine's affections to himself. It wasn't right, but for some unknown reason she could not fault him for it. God knows she wished she could, but she couldn't.

"I'm sure he will forgive you. He seems to care about you."

Christine thought for a moment.

"I know. I believe he is…in love with me," she said, hesitantly. "And it makes me feel horrible, but I…I am very frightened of him," she said sadly.

"Why? Has he ever hurt you?" Victoria asked, concerned.

"No, never. But he does have a terrible temper, and he killed Joseph Buquet and threatens to do Raoul a serious harm." She paused, her eyes taking on a wistful look. "But there is something about him that draws me to him. His speaking voice alone would make the angels weep. And I have never met anyone who could sing as beautifully as Erik."

Victoria raised an eyebrow.

"Erik?"

Christine's eyes grew wide when she realized her mistake.

"Oh lord! Please don't tell anyone I told you his name!"

Victoria took her hand.

"I promised you I wouldn't repeat anything you told me. That remains unchanged."

Christine looked relieved.

"Thank you for your discretion. Does Raoul know any of this?"

"Bits and pieces, though I haven't had the heart to tell him everything. He still doesn't believe there is a Phantom. Last night we went up to the roof of the opera house. That is where he proposed marriage to me."

"He's always been somewhat skeptical about these things." Victoria said, hoping to ease Christine's anxiety.

Christine smiled weakly.

"I suppose. I should return to my flat. I'm meeting Raoul for dinner."

Victoria smiled.

"Well then you should be off! Shouldn't keep him waiting," she teased. Christine laughed, for the first time in a long while.

Victoria saw her out and called Henri to make her some tea. She had to sit down and think. Her double life was beginning to catch up with her. She felt like she hadn't slept in weeks and her head ached constantly.

An envelope lay on her desk, containing an invitation to the annual Ball Masque held by the Opera Populaire. The event would take place eight weeks hence.

'At least I have SOMETHING to look forward to,' she thought, somewhat bitterly.

Several weeks later, she and Christine were shopping for fabric for their gowns for the masque ball. Christine had been a bit wary at first, but when Victoria promised to pay for the yardage, she relented, somewhat reluctantly. They were in a fairly high priced shop when Victoria found the most perfect material for her gown.

She was fingering the light blue silk when Christine gasped.

"Christine is everything alright?"

Christine nodded as she held a bolt of rose-colored silk. She looked at Victoria with a question in her eyes, waiting for an opinion.

"Oh, Christine, it's lovely! It would compliment your coloring very nicely," Victoria said, smiling at her young friend. Sometimes she forgot that Christine was only two years younger than she. Christine still had a childlike wonder and a strong need for praise and compliments.

Once they made their purchases, Victoria took Christine to her favorite dressmaker to select designs and order their gowns. They were going to look fabulous!

As they walked out of the dressmaker's shop, Christine turned to Victoria.

"Let me buy you lunch!"

"Nonsense!" Victoria protested, but Christine would not back down.

"Please? You have given me so much; let me do this one small thing?"

Victoria gave in.

"Alright…lead the way!" Soon they were seated in a small café, giving their orders to the waiter.

"So, the masque is in four more weeks. Will you be bringing an escort?" Christina asked, over steaming cups of tea.

Victoria rolled her eyes.

"No, I find aristocratic men to be such a bore!"

Christine laughed, "I 'm sure most of them are, but Raoul and I are concerned about you. You have been looking tired lately. Are you feeling well?"

Victoria stared at the tea in her cup.

"Yes, I'm feeling very well. I've just been having a little trouble sleeping recently. That's all." She hated lying, and she wasn't very good at it. Fortunately, Christine was not paying too much attention.

"Very well, I just wanted to ask," the young singer said, after a moment.

Her friend nodded and reiterated, "Yes, I'm fine. But thank you for your concern."

They finished their lunch gossiping about the ballet rats, and discussing Christine's upcoming wedding, in which Victoria was to be maid of honor.

As they stood up to leave, Victoria asked Christine about Erik.

"Well, I have not seen him since the night Joseph Buquet died. He hasn't come to me, and although I've tried calling to him, he refuses to show himself. I don't think he has been attending any performances either." She sounded depressed and concerned.

Victoria wasn't sure what to say. She knew that Erik was keeping himself very busy composing a new opera, and when he wasn't working on his music, he seemed to be interrogating Victoria for any new information about his beloved and her upcoming nuptials to Raoul.

"I'm sure he'll come to you soon," Victoria assured the young woman.

Christine nodded absently.

"I hope you are right."

They parted company after lunch. Christine headed off the direction of her flat, and Victoria was about to hail a cab, when, without warning, she was pulled into an alley.

She jerked her arm away from Erik.

"I do wish you would stop doing that!" she said irritably. He ignored her comment.

"Come, I wish to hear about your shopping trip with Christine," he said vaguely. She shook her head in resignation, then followed him without further comment to the Rue Scribe and through the underground passages to his home.

He showed her to the drawing room where she sat down comfortably on the sofa to field the inevitable questions from Erik.

"So, she chose a fabric for her gown?" he inquired.

She nodded slowly, wondering why he had an interest in her of fabrics.

"Yes, umm…rose silk, I believe."

"Silk is quite pricey, is it not?" he prodded.

Her face showed her confusion as she responded.

"Yes, I suppose. Why do you ask?"

He stared at her for a minute.

"You must really care about her to pay that much money for a gown she may wear just once," he finally said.

She scowled.

"Of course I care about her. She's the closest thing I've ever had to a sister. She and I were very close when we were younger, and I was devastated when she left. There was no one but Raoul for me to play with." She sighed in resignation. "And she loved the silk so much! I couldn't help it. I know she hasn't been as privileged as I have. She's going to marry my brother, so the least I can do is help her to dress the part."

He studied her for a moment; his unwavering attention was making her uncomfortable.

"Why have you not gone to her?" she asked quietly.

He looked startled, but managed to hide it fairly well. "I will go to her when I choose, and not sooner. I am at no one's beck and call."

"She misses you."

He stood up swiftly, anger coursing through and around him. "She misses her angel of music. She only tolerates me as a substitute," he said bitterly.

Victoria examined her nails.

"Can't you accept her friendship?"

He rounded on her.

"Excuse me?" he spat.

She straightened herself.

"I said, can't you just accept her friendship, companionship?"

He grasped the mantle, trying to control himself.

"I used to tell myself that was all I needed. A friend, companion. But I was just fooling myself. I am 42 years old; I have most of my life without love of any kind…." He stopped, visibly withdrawing into himself as he turned to look at Victoria. He expected to see pity and loathing; he was moved when he only saw compassion on her face.

"You've been alone your entire life," she said, more to herself than to him.

"Yes I have, my dear, so you see why I crave more," he spat angrily.

"I'm sorry. I have perhaps spoken out of turn. Maybe I should go."

She stood and picked up her cloak, and was mildly surprised when Erik came over to drape it over her shoulders for her while she clasped it.

"Thank you, Erik."

He inclined his head slightly before leading her out to the Rue Scribe. The air between them was charged with tension.

"You will be attending the Bal Masque, will you not?" he asked suddenly.

She nodded,

"Yes, of course."

"Are you…do you have an escort?" he asked, tentatively.

She shook her head

"No…I…No." she said, finally.

He nodded once before turning abruptly and heading back to his home, leaving Victoria to wonder what new tricks he had up his sleeve.