Time drifted by. I spent my days watching rehearsals from Box Five. Christine continued her lessons almost every night. The nights that she did not come I was certain she was with the Vicomte, but I made no mention of it.

I grew used to her company. When we were not having lessons, we spoke of many things. She told me about her father and the close relationship she had had with him. She spoke of her childhood and her father's dream for her to be a singer. She was careful to never mention Raoul, though he was always there, the wedge between us.

After a couple of weeks of companionship, Christine suddenly cooled towards me. Despite our polite conversations, our relationship became strained and full of tension. No matter how comfortable with me she tried to act, there was always a glimmer of doubt and fear in her eyes that refused to leave. Meanwhile, I was almost content just to have my Angel half of the time. I was reminded of Greek mythology and the story of Hades and Persephone. I felt a strange affinity with the Greek God of the Dead. He was damned to live in the darkness of the Underworld, as was I. He, too, had taken his love; abducted her and hid her away from the world in his underground lair. He, too, was condemned to be with her only half of his life, while she spent the other half in the daylight of the mortal world.

The difference, as far as I could tell, was that in time, Persephone had come to love her Hades.

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It did not take Raoul long to figure out what was going on. In fact, it was only after a couple of weeks of me making excuses as to why I could not have supper with him that he put the pieces together. I was on my way from my dressing room to the stage when he found me.

"Christine!"

I whirled around. "Raoul!" I said, pasting a smile on my face.

"Christine, we have to talk," he said.

"I-I cannot. I must get to rehearsals," I said, turning to walk to the stage.

He grabbed my arm. "No, Christine. We need to talk. Now." With that he proceeded to drag me through the Opera House and outside. When we were a little ways away from the Opera House he stopped. His face was red and his eyes flashed with barely concealed anger.

"What are you doing, Christine?" he demanded.

"I do not know what you mean," I said faintly.

"Christine, I am not dense!" he shouted. "You are seeing him again, are you not? Are you?" he repeated when I did not answer.

"I…" I said, looking down.

Raoul let out a shaky breath. I looked up and saw the hurt in his eyes. "I am sorry, Raoul," I said.

"Christine," he said carefully. "This man, this monster, has you under his control. Are you afraid of him? I cannot think of any other reason that you would willingly walk right back into his clutches. He is a killer, Christine. No matter what else is going through your mind, you must remember what he is capable of."

I swallowed, my eyes filling with tears. His words were true. No matter how much I did not want to admit it, he was right. Erik had killed, at least once and who knew how many others? How could I justify murder?

"You are my fiancée, Christine," he said softly. "I want to marry you and take you away from him, away from all of this."

I thought frantically. "I must continue my lessons, Raoul."

"Why?"

"H-he will know something is wrong if I do not," I said. It was the only thing I could think of.

Raoul studied me carefully. "Are you saying you will help us capture him?"

"I will sing, Raoul. That is all I can promise you."

That seemed to satisfy him. He took my hands and kissed them gently. "I love you so, Christine," he murmured. He leaned down to kiss me while something in the back of my mind protested wildly.

Things were strained with Erik after that day. I grew to despise my double life. When I was not at rehearsals I spent half of my time with Erik, underneath the Opera House while the other half was spent with Raoul. The closeness that Erik and I had developed after the night I had hurt my hands trying to force the gate open disappeared after that. I caught Erik's eyes on me constantly, watching me, while guilt ate at me.

Despite Erik's charming politeness, how unfailingly gentlemanly he was, there was an edge of danger to him that scared me even as it intrigued me. Erik was bold, mysterious and seductive in his ways, while Raoul was Raoul; proper and polite and somewhat boyish. Erik blazed in colour, while Raoul was a mere shadow. And there was no way to deny the incredible power of his voice. When he sang, it was as if heaven itself had opened up. He could bring me to tears with his voice and in the next moment stir up emotions in me that I did not even recognise. His voice and his very aura of power commanded respect.

The rehearsals continued. Piangi remained unable or unwilling, I am not sure which, to sing his phrases correctly. Singing the part of Aminta opposite him made it even more difficult for me to achieve the perfection that Erik strived for.

It was well known among the performers that Don Juan Triumphant was nothing more than a farce. It was true that the music was powerful and intriguing, but the Opera's plot, though well constructed, smacked of indecency and it was highly doubtful that the well to do of Paris would accept such an Opera. But I doubted that the managers cared. Their only concern was to perform the Opera, capture Erik and finally be free of the Opera Ghost.

Consequently, neither the singing nor the music ever held quite the level of emotion that it should have. I could sense Erik's displeasure after each and every rehearsal, though he rarely commented on it.

Raoul continued to be sweet and charming. Nothing more was said about the Opera Ghost. We had supper together occasionally, and each time I was thrown into confusion. He brought me flowers and continued to profess his love to me. I felt like a terrible tease, knowing that I cared for both Raoul and Erik. Where Erik drew me to him with his mysterious darkness, Raoul's light warmed me and comforted me.

Two weeks before the show was to open the cast was sent into frenzy. The Opera Ghost had sent more letters, it seemed. I was summoned, along with Raoul, Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer, to the manager's office after rehearsal.

"Not more notes," Raoul said warily as we entered the office.

"Yes, more notes," Firmin said sourly. "It seems our esteemed Opera Ghost is unhappy with how his opera is being performed at rehearsals."

I had wondered how long it would be before Erik put his foot down about the mediocre performances.

"The man is a menace," Andre said. "The sooner we can be rid of him, the better."

"I wholeheartedly agree, Messieurs," Raoul said, glancing at me.

I fought to keep my face expressionless.

"It seems the only performance he is satisfied with is Meg Giry's," Andre said as he glanced over his note. "Though he concedes that Miss Daae has improved much under his tutelage," he added.

Neither the managers, nor Madame Giry or Monsieur Reyer seemed surprised at this; apparently Raoul had already told them I had returned for lessons.

The managers sighed in unison. "Well, Madame Giry, Monsieur Reyer, we must beg you to work harder with the cast. We certainly do not need to make the Opera Ghost angry enough to postpone the opening.

Madame Giry nodded. "Certainly, Messieurs."

"I will do what I can," Reyer said, somewhat doubtfully.

I was beginning to wonder why I had been called in to the meeting.

The managers dismissed Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer, which left only Raoul and me.

"Miss Daae," Firmin said. "Before we can dismiss you, we must ask you something, and you must answer us honestly."

"Of course," I said somewhat nervously.

"Have you told the Opera Ghost of our plan?"

There was a silence then as Raoul and the managers watched me.

"Of course not," I replied truthfully.

Raoul looked at me skeptically. "You refuse to go along with our plan, you have continued letting him tutor you, and yet you have not told him we are planning to set a trap for him?"

"No, I have not," I repeated firmly and Raoul gave a little smile.

"Very well. Please keep it that way, Miss Daae," Firmin said.

I nodded, trying to ignore my conscience which was asking me exactly why I had not told Erik of their plan.

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Behind the mirror I watched Christine. She told the managers that she had not told me of their plot and I could see that they did not believe her. Only Raoul seemed to, and I caught the triumphant look in his eyes.

My anger started simmering. Caught up as I had been in just having Christine with me, I had not thought about the fact that she knew of their plan to 'catch' me and yet she had said nothing. If she cared for me at all, would she not tell me? She was playing a dangerous game, working both sides as she was.

I began feeling like a perfect fool. All of this time I had believed she was with me because she wanted to, that perhaps she was even beginning to care for me. And it was all a lie. She may have told Raoul that she was not going to be part of their plan, but her very silence put her in league with them.

Shaking with rage I returned to Christine's dressing room to wait for her, but she never returned.

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After the meeting with Firmin and Andre Raoul bustled me out to his carriage and to my flat. Lost in my confusion, I did not protest. He got me settled in my flat and left me, promising to send a carriage over in the morning to take me to the Opera House.

When he was finally gone I took a deep breath and stood in front of the fireplace. I stared into the leaping flames. What was wrong with me? What was I doing? I had never felt so confused.

I knew that I cared for Raoul. I knew that I loved him, even. He had been my closest friend growing up, and since he had come back into my life, he had been caring, supportive. We were engaged to be married, for pity's sake! And yet it was Erik, always Erik that crowded my mind. It was his voice that I longed to hear.

Things could not continue the way they were. I knew that. One way or another, I had to sort out my muddled feelings and figure out what I was doing with my life. What I was doing was unfair, to both Raoul and Erik.

I sighed as I lifted my eyes and saw my father's violin. I ran a finger along the neck, fondly remembering the many times he had played that violin while I drifted off into sleep. I often wondered what my life would be like, had he lived. Where would I be? What would I be doing? It was a fair guess to say that I would not be singing the lead at the Paris Opera House. Before Erik, I had not cared enough about my career to excel. But Erik had opened up the world to me, shown me what I was capable of. His gentle guidance and firm discipline had changed me from a mediocre chorus girl to a leading lady. I remembered with a smile the standing ovations that I had received, the many compliments from the patrons of the Opera House. But most of all I remembered the compliments I had received from Erik. His approval meant more to me than anyone else's, except perhaps my father's.

Remembering my father hurt. He had always been there for me. No matter how silly the problem he had always given me his whole attention. He had always made me feel important. Since his death I had felt so insecure, so lost.

Until Erik.

I bit my lip and looked down at the cheerfully crackling fire. How I wished I could see my father one more time. With a sigh I turned from the fire and walked slowly into my bedroom. My head was starting to ache and I was exhausted, so I climbed into bed. I drifted off to sleep and spent a restless night tossing and turned, plagued by dark dreams.

Raoul was waiting for me in my dressing room the next day when I arrived. I felt my face pale as I saw him sitting there at my dressing table.

"R-Raoul. What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Waiting for you, darling," he replied, coming over to me. He kissed my cheek.

I tried to smile and failed, so I turned my back on him. Uneasily I realised I was looking directly into Erik's mirror. Was he there, watching me? He had to have been angry that I did not show up for lessons the night before and now here I was, with Raoul.

"Two more weeks, Christine," Raoul said, coming to stand behind me. He gripped my shoulders. He nuzzled his face into my hair. "Two more weeks and we will be free of all this madness and we will be able to plan our wedding."

My heart sank at his words. I smiled weakly, but before I could reply there was a knock at my door and Claudia walked in, holding my Aminta costume. I had forgotten that today was the first dress rehearsal.

"Well, Little Lotte, I must go. I will see you later," Raoul said, kissing my cheek again before he left.

I gave a great sigh of relief as he shut the door behind him. Claudia helped me into my dress and fixed my hair. I stood in front of the mirror in the scanty Spanish dress, feeling confused and completely miserable.