I came into Paris again at night, but instead of finding deserted streets, I found a vibrant city. The streets were crowded and I had difficulty finding a place to rest and put my horse until the next night. I was lucky to find a boarding house close to the theaters where the woman was kind enough to not ask questions. I slept uneasily during the day, the sound of people coming in and out all day was quite disruptive and I knew that this was not a place that I could sneak around unnoticed, I would need to find permanent lodgings soon lest the noise drive me to the bottle.

I spent most of the next night perusing theater after theater in search of Adele, but I had little luck finding here, though I did catch a few whispered remarks about a new Opera House being designed. I tried to listen to more news about the designs but only managed to catch, "Garnier" and "Rue De Lyon". From those snippets, I set about finding Garnier and work with him to complete the Opera House.

Once on site there, I knew it would be the perfect place for a home, due to a swampy underground section below where the Opera House was to be constructed, we had to dredge the lake almost eight hours a day, but I slipped the suggestion to Garnier that it may be a better idea to leave the lake as is, and build the Opera House around it. The idea was immediately accepted and the workers were happy to have that task over with and I was happy adjusting the plans to add trapdoors, secret passageways, and staircases that led down to what I now referred to as my "lair" on the edge of the lake. No one seemed to notice the changes in the design and I worked on them alone in the dead of night after all the laborers had left. Unfortunately, due to the Franco-Prussian War, I had to seal off many of the passageways and seal the staircases lest my new home be discovered. I hid out here during the war listening the sounds of the prisoners being tortured mere feet away from my walls, but I kept working feverishly on my home until finally it was over and Garnier came back and we could finish the work.

I must say, it was a splendid building, although I heard mention that the Empress was not impressed. Garnier charmed her though and our opening night was a huge success. Happy to have the music above me and my new home complete now with a pipe organ of my own. I was pleased with my work and even more pleased when one night when I was prowling around the Opera to find Adele again! I saw her practicing one evening after she had dismissed the ballet rats and was glad to see that she was here and was working as the ballet mistress. I visited her in her rooms not too long after that as I had many secret hallways and trick mirrors placed in the rooms so I could come and go as I please. That was the first time I had ever seen Meg, or Little Giry as I liked to call her. Adele and I met many times over Meg's life and I used to visit her at night and sing her to sleep. This was a good time in the Opera, the managers were reasonable men who only needed a little nudging from the "Opera Ghost" to pay me my salary and Adele was fond of bringing Little Giry now to my home at night to listen to me play as she had when we were both young.

Unfortunately, as I have said, all happy memories have their sad moments, and this is no different for when Christine came to the Opera, everything fell apart.

He stopped there for a moment, his eyes closing as he sighed and whispered the name, "Christine…"

I knew that this would be one of the more painful parts of his life for him to recount and was in no way going to rush him and risk the chance that he would leave without divulging any information. I stayed quiet and averted my gaze until he finally spoke again.

Christine was my angel. She thought I was an angel, but she truly was one. I had never met anyone with such a voice, her voice, I knew, was the perfect companion to my music. She had a pureness to her voice that seemed to wrap itself around the darkness that was often prevalent in my music. I dared not approach her for years after she came to the Opera, I was too afraid you see. I had never felt such feelings before, I had always viewed most of my fellow men and women to be beneath me, the only person I ever thought was worth my time was my friend the Daroga and Adele. But the feelings I had for Christine was unlike those I had for my friends, and it burned within me. I was frightened of these feelings and dared not show them to anyone, but as the years went on, I could stand it no longer. I had stayed below for so many years composing my music with the sound of her voice inside my head that one night I was wandering through the secret passageways singing mostly to myself and she heard me! I stopped behind the mirror of her dressing room in shock, I had not realized that she was still there!

"Angel?" she asked looking around her.

It was then that I got the idea to pretend to be an Angel for her. And from that night on, I would steal away to the mirror and sing to her. I taught her how to train her voice to sing like that of a diva and through those lessons I learned how her father had died and promised to send her the Angel of Music, which is who I believe she thought I was. Things were going along perfectly until the night of the gala when that damned youth came and interrupted what was such a beautiful union of song. I knew that if I were to have any chance of keeping her bound to her Angel and to the music, I would have to lead her down to my lair and show her the true magic of the music.

"From all accounts you did at some point, bring her here?" I asked.

He nodded, "I did indeed. On the night after her gala performance, I lured her down her and sung her the most beautiful song that I had ever composed, one I had composed especially for her. She was mesmerized by my voice and by the whole experience, but the next day when she awoke, she was too curious for her own good and took my dignity away. I lashed out at her and when I finally came to my senses and saw her sitting on the floor near the organ in tears, I knew that I could not keep her down here with me.

I took her back to the Opera instead and gave the managers strict instruction that she should play the lead in their next opera. I knew they would disobey my orders as they were simple men, and were unwilling to give up what they considered their "star." So, as I am sure that you read in the papers, there was a great disaster that night, and the great Carlotta had suddenly lost her voice. I was happy with the way things went on stage, Carlotta was hiding back in her dressing room sobbing, Buquet was dead, and I thought at that moment that Christine would finally be the diva and would be thankful for all that I had done for her."

"But she wasn't?" I asked prompting him to continue his story.

"No." he answered sharply. "She was certainly not grateful. In fact, when I followed her to the rooftop, I was unfortunate enough to witness her declaring her love for that wretched fop. I was torn apart with grief, she was my angel, the inspiration for my music, and there she was in the arms of another! I was so angry with her, I cut off all lessons for months after the night of Carlotta's accident. I would sometimes still creep up to the mirror at night and I heard her asking for her teacher, her angel to return, but I could not. Not then. I took my anger, frustration, and her betrayal and buried myself in my music. At the turn of the new year, I had completed my opera, Don Juan Triumphant. It was at that point that I reinitiated contact with her, at the masked ball.

I thought I could hold my emotions in check when I saw her again, but seeing her with him at the masked ball just made my blood boil. I arrived shortly after midnight, my costume that of the Red Death, and I stalked down the stairway, stopping to taunt the managers and Carlotta along the way. I never could resist a little teasing of their diva," he chuckled softly.

I nodded hoping he would continue. I had read in the papers of the mysterious "Red Death" at the masked ball and how he had threatened Carlotta and Paigni and then Christine.

"But then I saw Christine standing there at the bottom of the stairs looking up at me with fear in her eyes. That boy had run off on her leaving her to herself and looking at her, I was lost for a moment. Lost in the moment, lost in her beauty. But when I saw the ring around her neck, I knew her betrayal was complete, she would not choose me willingly. I let her go that evening with a warning, but my obsession with her grew, even more so after the scuffle I had with that boy at the cemetery. After that, I knew I would have to take her during Don Juan, it would be the only way…."

"I read about the night of the premiere of Don Juan, and the fire," I murmured.

"Ah yes," Erik sighed, "The fire was the talk of Paris for weeks afterward, the only good thing was that people were so obsessed with the fire and rebuilding the theater, that the story of the Opera Ghost was quickly forgotten. Christine left with Raoul and they got married in a quiet ceremony a few months later. Myself, I retired to my home here, I had no interest in anything above ground."

I looked at him quizzically wondering how Mademoiselle Giry figured into his life after the fire. Erik looked at my bewildered expression and smiled, "You are wondering how Meg came to live here with me, are you not?"

"I must admit Monsieur, I am curious," I said trying my best to not sound foolish.

"Then I shall let my dear wife tell the story and I will take my leave of you," he said getting up and moving toward the door.

"No!" I almost shouted. "Will I never see you again Monsieur?"

He smiled sadly, "I will lead you back up to the opera house later tonight when it is safe. I think you have enough information to write your story now."

I nodded as he slipped out of the room and I was left by myself. I sighed wishing that I had my notebooks with me, I had learned so much from him and yet, I couldn't write down any of it, I had to rely on my memory. And I was sorry to say that my memory was not what it once was, but I tried not to let that bother me as I started to drift off into a dreamless sleep to the sound of the music coming from outside the room.