This story is rated M for some violence, coarse language, and minor adult themes.

It is not appropriate for readers under the age of 16 and should not be viewed by such.

Disclaimer – same as the other parts.

Paris, France – 2003

I tried to scream – I didn't want to suppress it this time – but no sound came out when I opened my mouth. I tried twice more, but still the same – nothing. Erik chortled, sweeping his cape behind one shoulder – he was holding a noose in one hand, and I started to shake, but my hands remained clutching the pillow. "It will do you no good to scream – any who come, I can easily dispatch." He looked at me, seemingly interested in something. "You do not fear me."

I finally found my tongue – and instead of screaming, since he'd told me it was useless anyway, I spoke to him. "What…what gave you that idea?"

"Your hand has not gone to your eyes to keep the noose from strangling you. Obviously you do not think I will use it on you."

I shuddered. "Will…will you?"

He held out his free hand to me. "What do you think? Now, come with me."

I shook my head. "Never. You killed François…"

"I did what had to be done." He said it so simply and quietly, I silenced. My argument died in my throat at his words – it wouldn't do any good, it wouldn't bring François back anyway. He gestured for me to take his hand. "Come with me. Now."

"Why?"

"You dare to question your teacher?"

At once, I realized where I'd heard his voice before – before tonight, even. "You," I breathed, abandoning my pillow and standing, moving toward him slightly. "You taught me to dance."

The quiet chuckle came again – but from much closer this time. "And I shall teach you much more." I took his hand – it was cold. "Come with me." He led me through the grate, and I followed him, still holding onto his cold hand. We descended through the seven levels of the old opera house, finally arriving at a boat. "Sit," he commanded, and for some inexplicable reason, I took a seat in the boat. He stood just behind me, dropping the noose beside me in the boat, and after a moment we began to move across the lake – I looked around, starting to be afraid. What was I doing here?

I heard his chuckle as a large gate came into sight. "Just dawning on you now, is it?" I looked back at him – he was standing, and with the aid of a long pole, he was moving the boat almost gondola-style across the lake. There was a tiny, half-amused smile on his face as he looked at me. "Well?"

I nodded. "I'm your new Christine."

At the name, he grimaced and nearly dropped the pole into the murky water. "I don't care if that is your real name as well – you are Kit and so you shall remain, do you understand? I never want to hear that name again as long as I live." His smile had turned into a frown – his jaw was set and now he stared straight ahead, maneuvering the boat toward the gate. As I looked back ahead, we looked about to crash, but with a hard grinding sound, it rose out of the water, high enough to admit us, water dripping from the bottom. With one deft move, he swept his cape over me, and I heard the water from the gate hit it as we went underneath. As soon as I guessed we were clear – I didn't hear any more water hitting his cape – I went to move it off of me, but he beat me to it. "It would not do to have you soaking," he said when I turned to him. He was wet from the water, and didn't look happy, though it was hard to tell – the mask covered half his expression, and he wasn't looking directly at me.

I was quiet for a moment. "Was the cellar at the school better than this?" I said softly, not wanting to anger him.

He shook his head, still not looking at me. "There are trade-offs. It was less of a hassle to get you for your lessons in London, it's true, but at least here we won't be disturbed by anyone." I could see his teeth clench. "And I won't have to keep you in a trance to convince you it was a dream. You're old enough now to know, little angel." He pulled the pole into the boat, and I felt us stop. He looked at me, another half-amused smile playing across his lips. "Not so little anymore, though – perhaps you're just Kit now, and I'll dispense with the other nonsense." He stepped out of the boat, then turned and held out his hand to me to help me out.

I took it, climbing out. His hand was no warmer than before. "And you? What should I call you?"

He turned away, my hand still in his. "That's not important. More important right now is your lesson." He led me through a curtain, and I gasped, tears springing to my eyes. He turned to me, half-amused, no look of concern. "Is something wrong?"

"I…" I took a deep breath. "I thought her mad…"

His lair was exactly as Christine had described it – with a few small additions, possibly recent. There was a pipe organ in the center of the – I supposed it was what passed for his sitting room – and next to it was a small grand piano. There were small doorways off the main room, covered by curtains, and shattered mirrors around the entire place.

He chuckled quietly next to me. "Oh, she was." He started to lead me over toward the piano.

A million questions flooded my head at once. "You taught me to dance?"

"I did." He sounded proud.

"Where did you learn?"

We arrived at the piano. He motioned for me to stand by it, and he sat on the bench, adjusting so he could reach the pedals. "I never learned. I can't dance myself – I can only aid you in the steps." He played a few notes, then a long string of music. "Now…"

"When did…"

"Child, hold your tongue!" My questions ceased. "There will be time enough. For now let me say I am appalled at your performance tonight. Your dancing was perfect, your acting not bad. But your singing…" He shook his head. "Your singing leaves much to be desired. And this I know much about. I will tutor you to sing. In return, I ask one thing."

"What?" I was shaking, clutching the piano to keep from falling over as my knees knocked. I had a sinking feeling I knew what was coming.

He smiled, his grin wide enough to half disappear underneath the mask he wore. "When the time comes – and I will let you know – you will remain here with me, in this place, for eternity." There was silence for a moment as he let it hang. "Your ancestor – don't say her name – agreed to this, and when the time came, she reneged on the agreement we had made, all because of…him." I could hear his teeth grit and his fists clench, though neither physically did. "I will not allow that to happen again."

I swallowed hard. "What would you do if I did the same?"

"I would make you suffer a fate worse than having to suffer here with me – I'd kill everyone you loved in the world above."

I sighed. "And if I said I had no one?"

"Then you have no reason to break our agreement, do you?" I shook my head. "So, Kit, what will it be? Take my lessons and remain here for eternity – or suffer a chorus girl's fate and never be anything more than a dancer?"

His eyes were boring a hole through me. I wanted to say no. I wanted to go back upstairs and back to my warm bed and forget about the Phantom – forget he'd ever offered me this.

And then I remembered my name.

I remembered Etienne's prophesy.

I shuddered. "You have a deal."