When I awoke, I was shocked to find myself in one piece. The wound was almost completely healed. It was incomprehensible. Granted, it hadn't been all that deep and I had probably suffered more from loss of blood than anything else. All the same, when you'd think I would have had a few stitches at the very least. I peeled back the bandage to get a better look. There was a bit of a scab and some redness but that was the extent of my formerly life-threatening wound. The world had turned utterly ridiculous within the space of a day.

I was lying on a nice normal little bed in a nice normal little room with a plain quilt and drapes printed with those ugly cabbage roses. I cannot understand what people see in that print. I was wearing a simple nightgown. My dress and corset were nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, you're awake! I'll go and tell Nadir!" cried the most irritatingly perky voice I had ever heard in my life. I was not alone.

The owner of the voice was a girl with long blond hair, dressed for no good reason in a practice tutu. Her face looked vaguely familiar, except for a patch covering her right eye and an angry red scar that ran from her right cheek into the temple. The effect was best described as lopsided pirate-ballerina. I tried to muster up something akin to surprise and failed. The girl could have morphed into Binky the Wonder Chimp and danced the polka while singing the entire score of Le Roi de Lahore and I wouldn't have been surprised by that either.

"Who, precisely, is Nadir?" I asked.

"The Persian's name is Nadir! I thought everyone knew that!"

The Persian's name isn't Nadir. I don't actually know what his name is because Leroux never mentions it and Erik always called him "daroga." Hence, if everybody knows that the Persian's name is "Nadir" then everybody is out of their minds.

I decided not to antagonize the crazy girl, since I had suddenly realized where I'd seen this girl before, "So, ummm Meg? It is Meg, isn't it?"

"Actually," said the Meg-girl, "You can call me 'Meghan.' I don't really want to be Meg anymore."

This was something entirely new. Since when can we decide not to be our character anymore? It's not as if I like playing the evil bitch singer all so the reader doesn't have to get mad at Christine for letting Erik promote her over me in the most underhanded and mean-spirited way. I looked at Meghan the Pirate Ballerina and wondered when she had lost her eye.

"If you don't mind my asking, Meghan, what happened to your face?"

Meghan the Pirate Ballerina looked a little sheepish, "Well, you remember the gang outside? They tried to kidnap me and sell me into slavery. I resisted and they beat me in the face until I was deformed like Erik."

As far as I know, Erik is deformed all over.

Meghan the Pirate Ballerina sniffled a bit and continued her story. "In my story, Erik takes me in and we fall in love because I can understand his pain. I don't think I want to do that though. Erik is kind of scary and Christine won't talk to me and having someone beat your face in here isn't like it is in my story at all." With that, she burst into tears.

I looked around for a handkerchief, but nothing came to hand. I decided to make do and stripped one of the pillows of its case, which I offered to Meghan. She said something that I took to be "Thank you" although it sounded more like "moofulluh" because her face was buried in the pillow case.

"If it's not too much trouble, Meghan, can you tell me what happened to my dress? I think it's time I went down and found out what happened to the boys."

"Your dress was ruined," Meghan sniffled, "It was all torn up and bloody. I think Nadir said it should be burnt. Also, he said that the color didn't suit you at all."

I hate Nadir.

"There are some Persian robes in the armoire," offered Meghan, "You can wear those until you can find another dress."

I rummaged in the armoire until I found a white silk shift with embroider trim, a robe to go over it in violet silk with gold trim and a gold silk sash to tie the whole mess together. In other words, I looked like an escapee from a bad production of Abduction from the Seraglio. I ran a brush through my hair and made a quick braid in the back. I had no idea where all my hairpins had got to and I decided that I really didn't want to ask.

"Did you at least manage to save my shoes?" I asked.

"You can't wear black boots with that outfit," said Meghan, "Here, I'll get you some slippers to go with it."

I have been reduced to taking sartorial advice from a pirate in a tutu.

I followed Meghan downstairs to meet the mysterious "Nadir" who turned out to be the daroga after all. He offered us tea, which I accepted gratefully.

I had been out cold for the past three hours. When the two men did not return promptly, the daroga had sent his servant Darius to check on them. Darius had not returned either, but Nadir was confident that a rescue was in progress and that we need not concern ourselves about the matter.

"Leroux never kills major characters," explained the daroga.

I pointed out that someone had killed Christine less than 24 hours ago and if she wasn't a major character, then who was?

"I don't believe that our author was responsible for this. It is, forgive me for saying so, terrible storytelling. Who would kill Christine when she hasn't even made her debut yet? Where is the character development? Why should the reader care that a minor opera singer has been dispatched? No, this is a stupid plot. Much too stupid for Leroux."

"So, do you think we're involved in some kind of a murder mystery?"

"It has all the hallmarks of a poorly composed mystery. Tell me, have you found clues?"

I explained about the note, the key and the mask, all of which were tucked away in the Shade's pockets, wherever he happened to be.

"So this is a scavenger hunt where one clue leads to the next, rather than a traditional mystery. Clearly the mask is meant to lead you to the next clue."

"Yes," I said, "but what does it mean?"

"What did the mask look like?"

"It was only a piece of a mask, but it wasn't Erik's. It was white instead of black and it didn't have a strap or anything to hold it on his face. It looked like something you couldn't wear at all."

"Could it have been, perhaps, part of a costume?"

"Oh I know the answer!" Meghan squealed. "It's a masquerade mask!"

"Yes," said Nadir, "That's what I was getting at. The masquerade ball is tonight. All you need to do is find masks and you can slip back into the opera house unnoticed to search for the next clue."

I decided that I would have to make a stop at my dressmakers. There was no way I'd be caught sneaking about the opera house only partially dressed again. However, before doing any of that, we'd have to find out what had happened to the men.

"There's an entrance to the gang's lair around the corner on Evil Gang Street. Just follow the signs," said Nadir, "In the meantime, I'll slip into the opera house to see if the door-openers have seen anything suspicious in the meantime."

"I'd avoid Erik and his crazy girlfriend if I were you," I warned him.

"Yes, she is very crazy, this girlfriend. Meghan was kind enough to warn me. Who is the more crazy, the crazy man or the crazy woman who wants to be his girlfriend?"

I know what my answer would be.

We parted ways and agreed to meet again at the masquerade that evening.