Erik pulled the chloroform soaked rag away from Amelia's face as she went limp in his arms and stuffed it back into his pocket. She couldn't have made this any easier for him. At least Christine had put up some adversity. But then again, Christine had known he was coming for her.

He ripped the blue mask from Amelia's face and tossed it aside. For the first time, Erik had a chance to study her up close. Everything about her was a feminine version of the Vicomte de Chagny: her porcelain skin, the gentle curve of her face, her bow shaped mouth and pink lips. Erik had to repress the urge to strangle her right then and there for nothing more than her appearance. A dead body wasn't going to lure the Vicomte here, and even if it did, it would only stink up his lair, which meant he was going to have to keep her alive for now.

After opening up the mirror, Erik carelessly tossed the unconscious girl over his shoulder as though she were a burlap sack. She didn't matter to him. Frankly he could care less what happened to her as long as she served her purpose. He needed her alive, but he didn't really care what kind of condition she was in.

No sooner than he closed the mirror behind them, the door to the dressing room slammed open. Erik swore as he realized Amelia's mask was still lying in the middle of the floor, but it was too late. "Is this private enough for you?" he heard a woman purr. Erik recognized that voice. It was Violet Alonza, the new Prima Donna. And when he saw the man she was with, he almost wanted Amelia to be awake.

"It's perfect, chérie," the man replied.

"Now Gaston, where were we?" she purred. Erik raised his eyebrow as the two began to kiss passionately. He wondered if this had started before or after Violet had gotten the position. This had to be Amelia's secret. After all, the world finding out her husband was having an affair would be detrimental to her reputation. But if Barineau had his attentions focused on another woman, it would be even less likely that he would notice Amelia missing.

"Oh, what's this?" Erik swore again as Violet found the mask. He could do nothing but pray that Gaston didn't recognize it.

"Forget about it," Gaston replied without even looking at the mask. "It's probably part of some costume. We've got more important things to do chérie."

"Gaston?" Amelia murmured drowsily. Erik realized that he spent too much time up here and the chloroform was wearing off already. He quickly gave her another whiff of the drug so that she would pass out again and carried her down the passageway.

When he reached the shore of the lake, Erik dropped Amelia into the boat and began to row across the water. It was amazing to him how his plan had gone off practically perfectly, without a single hitch.

Mia felt sick and drowsy, but she wasn't sure what was going on. Her vision was blurry, but she could feel her body rocking back and forth, as though she were in a boat. She let out a low moan as her stomach rebelled, clearly disliking the rocking.

Finally her gaze was able to settle on a man in a black mask. Mia gasped as she started to remember being grabbed by a man in a black mask. She wasn't sure where she was or who the man was, but she knew she needed to get away. Summoning all of her willpower, Mia began crawl away from the man. Suddenly the ground beneath her lurched to the side, which sent her tumbling headfirst into a lake of icy cold water. She realized too late that she truly had been in a boat.

Mia tried to swim but she was so disoriented, she couldn't tell which way was up, and she couldn't see anything in the murky water. Something grabbed her ankle and began dragging her further down. She kicked frantically, since she knew she was going to drown if she didn't get away soon.

Just as suddenly as she had been grabbed, Mia was released. What felt like an arm wrapped around her waist, hauling her upwards. She gasped for air as her head broke the surface. The next thing Mia knew, she was being dragged onto a stone floor as she coughed and sputtered, trying to get the water out of her lungs.

The now soaking wet masked man was kneeling next to her, panting to catch his breath. Mia had to know who had kidnapped her. She lunged forward, taking hold of his mask and pulling it away. She screamed when his face was revealed. "Damn you, you stupid girl!" he roared. One side was warped and marred, the skin scarred and bulging in places. Mia couldn't bear to look at him. The man twisted his fingers in her hair, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You shouldn't have done that Madame," he snarled. The disdain he had for her was clear in the way he said Madame. "Because now you've unleashed the monster."

He grabbed her wrist and began to drag her towards a black swan statue. Mia's eyes tripled in size when she saw the pillows and sheets. It wasn't a statue, it was a bed. "No! Please Monsieur, I'll do whatever you may want, just not that!" Mia pleaded. The man flung her backwards onto the bed and planted his knee on her stomach, successfully pinning her down. He reached for his belt, but instead of undoing it like she feared, the man grabbed a noose. Mia wasn't sure if this was any better of an alternative.

However, instead of putting it around her neck, the man threw the looped end of the noose over the swan's head and tied her wrists together with the other. Mia struggled against him, but the more she fought, the tighter the rope became. Satisfied with his work, the man stood and walked away.

A few minutes he reemerged in dry clothes, black pants, a loose-fitting white shirt that exposed his chest, and instead of the black mask, he was wearing a white mask on half of his face. "Who are you?" she asked, hating herself for the quiver in her voice.

"Isn't it obvious?" he demanded. "Hasn't your brother told you all about the demon that lurks beneath the Opera Populaire? Haven't the ballerinas told you the story of the deformed madman who preys on the innocent? I, Madame, am the infamous Phantom of the Opera!"

"No, no you can't be," Mia protested. "The Phantom's just a story."

The man backhanded her hard across the face, making her cry out in pain. "I am no story! And you would be wise to hold your tongue. I hold your life in my hands. Don't give me an excuse to wring your pretty neck."

"What do you want with me?" Mia asked as tears began to slide down her cheeks. "What did I ever do to you?"

He leaned in so that their lips were less than a hair's breadth apart, and whispered so that his voice was barely audible, sending chills down her spine. "You came to my opera house."