I walked back to the Opera House alone. Snow settled on my hair and cloak, melting and soaking my hair. I sensed someone following me the entire way – the Phantom, I had no doubt. As much as I wanted to lose him, I was too afraid of getting lost in a big city.

I'd always wanted to visit Paris. I hadn't really planned to do it this way, though.

It occurred to me as I approached, however, that I was no longer invisible and would have to have a legitimate reason to be there.

I went in through the grate which the Phantom had first entered the Opera House. Ariel's voice echoed through the tunnels. She sounded absolutely incredible. There was an unearthly beauty to her voice that I'd never heard before in any singer's voice. It wasn't that every note was flawless and amazing, though most of them were. It was that he had brought out something in her voice that set her apart from every other singer I'd ever heard.

I sank down against the wall and listened. Eventually, her voice was joined by the Phantom's.

Seriously, you'd think she'd have to stop sometimes. Her throat must hurt.

I let myself in through the mirror and slipped into the building. No one really paid me any attention. They were rehearsing Don Juan Triumphant and presumably had more important things to worry about than the red haired girl quietly making her way up to the roof.

I'm not so good at making plans. The best one I had was to just it how. We had to get home sometime. Then Ariel would have to go. It would be hard, but she'd have what she wanted. An incredible voice. And we'd be able to wash our hands of this whole thing.

I had sympathy for the Phantom. I'm not heartless. Yes, it's horrible what happened to him. He shouldn't have been treated as he was. But he doesn't have to strangle people and extort money and harass the singers because of it. Seriously, am I the only person who thinks it's really creepy that Christine's like seventeen and he's at least thirty?

At least he didn't think that way about Ariel… I hoped.

I scrubbed that thought from my brain as best I could.

That performance of Don Juan Triumphant couldn't come soon enough.

It's surprising how you can pass time when you want to, though. I spent the days before the performance dodging people who might ask why I was there and taking pictures of the Opera House with my cell phone. Somehow, it still worked, even in the nineteenth century. It couldn't make calls, but it took pictures and did some other stuff.

I suspect an alien friend of mine might have upgraded my cell phone without asking. Not that I was complaining.

I just had to wait this thing out and hope that whatever Ariel came out at the end would bear some resemblance to the one who'd gone into the Phantom's lair.