Paris, February 1881

The Masked Ball was the perfect opportunity for Lisette to present herself back into society after hiding away for two weeks. The viscount had kindly told her to find a dress for the occasion and send him the bill, which Lisette generously took advantage of the offer. For the first time, she'd stepped in a Parisian dress shop and walked out with the latest (and most expensive) dress she'd seen on display.

She had bought an extravagant, dark blue dress. The layers of satin on the dress were so heavy that she had to ask Sorelli to borrow a bustle. The skirts ruffles fell into a beautiful train while the bodice was embroidered in sparkling beads. The bust was cut lower than she would have liked, but she had been relieved to discover the dress shop also carried long gloves that would cover the new scars on her arms.

She used rags the evening before to curl her normally straight hair into ringlets. She had carefully arranged them on top of her head, using silver accessories to shimmer in the light of the ballroom. She had also been pleased to discover a navy mask that matched the style of her dress.

As she had looked at herself in the mirror that evening, she began to understand why Erik was so fond of his mask. Even though the way she was dressed was not dissimilar to the housewarming party she had attended on behalf of the count, the mask seemed to complete the outfit. She felt bolder, confident, and like a new woman from the way her scars were cleverly hidden underneath!

She enjoyed the luxury of a carriage ride to the opera house thanks to the viscount. As they clattered their way through the streets of Paris, Lisette couldn't help but smile at passersby on the street. She truly felt like a lady of high society!

When they had arrived, the viscount took her arm with a glazed-over expression. She knew that his thoughts would be transfixed on Christine all evening, but she was determined to enjoy herself. However, as she looked upon the other masked faces in the ballroom, she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that Erik was in attendance. This foreshadowing only made her stand up straighter, daring Erik to get a glimpse of her in her dress. She would prove that she was just fine taking care of herself.

The viscount introduced her to a variety of society friends of his whose names she'd forgotten as soon as they'd said them to her. In turn, she had the opportunity to introduce him to the professors of the Conservatoire who were in attendance. She knew they were always eagerly looking for new patrons.

The viscount did his escort duty by taking her to the main floor where they spun and twirled to the lovely music. She was able to spot Carlotta and Piangi among the couples, confirming Carlotta was to return to the opera stage after all. Richard and Moncharmin seemed to have put the chandelier incident behind him from the way they were smiling and nodding to the many guests in attendance. The ball was truly a success, as it seemed every member of the high society of Paris was here. The main floors of the opera house were so packed that she was surprised there was room to dance at all! What had surprised her the most was seeing how many of the orchestra members were in attendance, laughing happily with one another. This was a clear reconciliation on behalf of Richard and Moncharmin, who would have never invited members of the orchestra under any other circumstances. As the viscount twirled her once more, the room was quickly beginning to lose its splendor as she thought how easily Armel had been forgotten.

When the dance at last finished, the count took her arm and guided her to the other side of the room. She was pleasantly surprised to see the count and Sorelli arm in arm, chatting happily with one another as they shared a glass of champagne.

"Ah, Raoul!" the count said, clapping his brother on the back. "I wasn't sure if you would be here this evening!"

His eyes turned to Lisette.

"Lisette Geiger? Is that you?" he asked, his eyes widening. "My, you put my brother to shame! You are simply captivating in that dress!"

She saw Sorelli glance at him with agitation, who was in similar attire as Lisette's dress.

"Thank you, monsieur," she said. Instead of blushing like she normally would have, her mask seemed to give her more confidence, making her only stand taller and prouder. Perhaps Erik will have overheard the compliment…

Sorelli kissed Lisette on the cheek and took her by the arm while the two brothers began to talk. "I'm so glad to see you here," Sorelli whispered in her ear. "You truly do look marvelous. But, I must admit I'm a bit surprised. You and the vicomte? I'm surprised we haven't seen Christine on your trail!"

Lisette shook her head furiously. "A favor for the poor man. Apparently, Philippe is not pleased that Raoul has set his eyes on Christine. He was hoping that bringing me along as his date might appease his brother's fears."

"Well, it certainly worked," Sorelli said, nodding to the count who was laughing with his brother. "That's the happiest I've seen him all evening."

"I'm glad to see you two are back together," Lisette said.

Sorelli gave a little shrug of the shoulders. "I'm not exactly sure what we are. Meg was right, I was too quick to judge that evening in the restaurant. But I must say, I better watch my back with you around!"

Lisette dropped her arm from Sorelli's. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"The count has been talking of you nonstop since the chandelier fell," Sorelli said, a smile playing on her lips. "I'm not stupid, I know he saved you from the crash. But you seem to have enamored him. All he seems to talk about is you anymore!"

"I believe he must have the wrong idea of me," Lisette said, thinking back to the kiss she had shared with the count at the housewarming party. "You are much better suited for him."

"Well, you better be the one to tell him that," Sorelli said, laughing shakily.

"Shall we trade partners for a bit?" the count said, coming over to them. "Don't worry, Raoul, I can assure you that Sorelli is an excellent dancing partner."

Sorelli playfully hit him on the shoulder before accepting the viscount's arm and disappearing into the crowd of twirling couples.

"May I?" the count said, offering his arm. Soon, Lisette felt herself being enveloped by the music, stepping and spinning with far more ease with her current partner than she had been with the viscount. Sorelli's words rang in her head.

He couldn't possibly have any interest in me, she thought as she caught him smiling happily at her. He's already rejected me! Why would a man of his status want to be with a lowly musician?

As the count twirled her once more, her gaze fell on a glimpse of something, red, making her cry out in fright.

In the middle of the ballroom stood a cloaked figure. He was masked, just as all the other guests, but there was something rather sinister about his costume. His black cloak was embroidered with red thread, and as Lisette and the count made their way around the dance floor, she was able to make out the words "I AM THE RED DEATH" spelled on the back in red embroidery. The suit underneath matched the color of blood and his large, brimmed hat seemed to cover most of his face. As they made their way closer and closer to the strange figure, he lifted the brim just so that his mask was revealed to them. Unlike most of the masks that the guests were wearing, including Lisette and the count, this seemed to conceal his entire face in the form of a skull.

"What a ghastly costume," the count said, noting the figure as well. "Come here to ruin our fun!"

Lisette could only nod as her throat tightened. She had seen the man's eyes from underneath the mask, eyes she'd recognize anywhere.

Erik.

How dare he come here! Lisette thought. She felt herself growing so angry that she began to shake. Erik had come to laugh at everyone and turn their gay celebration into a night of misery, to show the managers who really held the power in the opera house. Had he not caused everyone enough grief? Armel was dead because of him! Christine more than likely taken against her will! The performance hall in ruins because of the disaster! Lisette was coming dangerously close to ripping off his mask and exposing him for the coward he truly was.

"Come," the count said, stopping her midstep. "I'm sure my brother is looking for you by now."

She returned to the viscount who looked sicker than she'd ever seen him. He was staring at the spot Erik had been only members before, but when she turned and looked, he had vanished.

"Vicomte?" she asked. "Are you well?"

He broke his stare, smiling weakly. "Yes, yes, quite well. Shall we have another dance?"

Although still recovering from the last dance, she took his arm and was led to the dance floor once again. As they spun, Raoul's eyes were darting around the room, clearly looking for any sign of Christine. Lisette's eyes were occupied as well as she looked for the black-cloaked figure. If he came within arm's reach, his mask would be removed from his face! However, as what usually happened with Erik, she underestimated him. For one moment, the two of them were immersed in a sea of people, and the next moment the Red Death was right beside them. A gloved hand placed itself on Raoul's arm, causing them both to stop mid-spin and cling to one another. The skull's eyes seemed to blaze into Raoul's and Lisette felt her breath catch in her throat, completely losing her nerve. She could see Raoul begin to reach for the pistol he kept as his side, when in the next instance the Red Death was gone.

When she glanced back at Raoul, all of the color had drained from his face. "Excuse me," he said, dropping his arms and nearly running from the dance floor. Lisette stood, confused, in the midst of the couples surrounding her. As she watched him dart across the room, she could distantly see him following a girl with long, brown curls.

"Christine," Lisette said under her breath.

"I'm not surprised to see my brother has abandoned you."

She jumped upon hearing the count's voice. Turning, she smiled weakly. "I'm afraid he's not well."

He sighed. "No, I'm afraid not." He took her in his arms, much to her astonishment, and began to spin them among the dancers.

"Where's Sorelli?" she inquired.

"She's abandoned me too, I'm afraid," he said. "The fool in the Red Death costume was too much for her."

"I don't blame her," Lisette said, trying to ignore the quiver in her voice. "We've all had quite a shock after what happened."

The count studied her for a moment, clearly understanding what she was referring to. Upon seeing her anxious state, he pulled her from the ballroom and led her to the Grand Foyer, which was surprisingly empty.

"There's no Opera Ghost in here," he said, smiling as he shut the extravagant doors behind him.

"Thank you," she said, making her way to the large window. She opened it a crack, letting the cool night air seemingly wash away the clamminess that was threatening to overcome her. She stared at the street below, watching as well dressed men and women arrived and left in horse drawn carriages. "I'm afraid I'm still recovering as well. It seems strange to see the opera house so lively, so full of hope after Armel—"

She caught herself before she lost control, bringing a hand to her throat to stop the sob that was trying to escape. Much to her surprise, she felt a count place a hand on the small of her back and stiffened at the gesture.

"Your friend will be greatly missed," he said, although she wasn't quite sure of the sincerity in her voice. "I'm so thankful that I was able to get you out of those damned orchestra stalls." There was something different about his voice. It was deeper… and huskier.

She turned to him. In this light, she was finally able to admire him away from the crowds in the other rooms. His suit seemed to match the exact shade of her dress, a rather strange coincidence considering Sorelli had been dressed in a light pink. His hair was neatly slicked back, but still leaving a few stray pieces to fall upon his forehead, creating a rather charming effect.

"Oh, Lisette," he said, placing a hand on her cheek. "I'm so glad we're alone! I hope you know you've hardly left my thoughts since that dreadful night."

His hand seemed unbearably hot against her skin. But why was it making her heart want to leap out of her chest? Hadn't she already been down this path before?"

"I don't need any pity," she said, looking away.

"Pity?" the count brought her gaze back to his. "No, my dear Lisette, not out of pity. A woman of such importance, of wealth, of talent, could hardly leave my thoughts."

Wealth? Lisette thought. Importance? What on earth was he talking about?

"Philippe," she said, her heart pounding even louder as he closed the gap between them, his hand still firmly on her cheek. "Please, I'm not wealth—"

He brought his other hand to her lips. "I only want to show you what I've been desiring the last few weeks."

In a swift motion, he crushed his lips against hers.

This kiss was vastly different than the one they'd shared a few months earlier. That one had been hesitant, experiential. This kiss was one of a man in desperation. His hands began to run themselves up the length of her dress, just short of her bosom. She was aware how alluring this dress was with the low cut neckline, but she felt herself straining against the material. His lips moved with hers, his tongue searching eagerly as it entered her mouth. She couldn't help but hold onto him, feeling his body against hers, giving in to the feelings that she'd rejected for so long.

"Sorelli!" she gasped, pulling away. "What about Sorelli?"

"We're done for," he said, knotting his fingers in her hair as he kissed her neck. "I'm afraid it's not a well-suited match. Not after you've been the one who's been filling my thoughts."

She couldn't help but moan at these words as she felt him move along her jawline. She had never felt so desirable in her entire life. This moan seemed to only encourage him, as he locked her in a kiss more desperate than the one previous. However, she began to feel the skirts of her dress moving in a strange direction.

"Philippe?" she said, breaking the kiss. "What are you doing?"

With one hand, he was lifting her skirts up, layer by layer, until he was able to place a hand on her stockings. She tried to push him away, but realized that he was much stronger than she.

"Lisette," he moaned, running a hand up her thigh. "Let me show you how much I love you."

She did her best to tug her skirts down, but his grip was too strong. "Love me? Philippe—"

His eyes suddenly darkened at her words, recognizing what her hands were trying to do. He smiled, but a smile that turned Lisette's heart cold with fear. Running his thumb over her bottom lip, he said, "Yes, Lisette. I could have any woman I want. But your wealth, status, and talent have made you show me that you are the only woman I could marry."

"Marry?" Lisette said, trying to push his hand away. His hand tightened on her thigh, her heart pounding as it moved slowly upwards. "Philippe, I can't! I can't get married! My family's in Germany! Not now…"

His expression darkened even further. Her desperation was at an all time high as she began to understand the hunger in his eyes. With her free hand, she tried the one thing that always worked in scaring away men. She removed her mask in one, swift motion.

What surprised her though, was that he didn't even flinch as she tossed the mask to the floor. Her face was marred even more than before the chandelier had fallen. In addition to the scar that ran diagonally across her face, there were small scars decorating her cheeks and forehead where the crystal shards had lodged themselves. With a frightening revelation, this seemed to have come across as encouragement, rather than scaring him away.

He began to kiss where the scar ended at her jawline. "We'll see if you still don't wish to get married after what I have to show you."

Before she could register what was happening, he roughly grabbed her by the arms and dragged her to a dark corner of the foyer. A divan sat perched against the wall, which he roughly placed her on, using his body weight to pin her down.

"You won't be able to deny me after this," he said in a sickly sweet voice, his face mere inches from hers.

He began lifting her skirts, tearing away at her chemise and stockings. There was a moment where Lisette simply stared, incredulous to the situation. Then, she realized what was about to happen. She began to scream, clawing away at his skin. He roughly put a hand over her mouth. "Shut up!" he said. "You'll only make things more painful!"

She ignored him, biting down on one of his fingers, causing him to howl. He slapped her across the face, causing her to gasp in surprise. The slap hadn't really hurt, but the motion had surprised her. What was happening? Who was this man?

His hands kept searching, coming closer and closer. He was able to pin both of her arms together with one of his hands, while the other undid the belt at his waist. She couldn't help but begin to cry, the most frightened she had ever been in her life. This can't be happening, this can't be happening, this can't be happening…

And suddenly, he had forced himself onto her. She screamed, clawing, spitting, fighting, but he was too strong. "Please," she cried, "Please!"

"Lisette!"

The voice, so musical, so full of fire, seeming to echo from all corners of the room while still whispering in her ear. In a split second, the intrusion made the count look up in fright.

"Erik!" she cried, too scared to care about the secret of the Opera Ghost. "Erik, please!"

And in a moment, there he was. No longer the Red Death, but the Opera Ghost in full. She had never seen him look so menacing, so full of rage. The count was so shocked that he let out a cry and fell backwards, scrambling to his feet. Fighting back tears, Lisette climbed over the edge of the divan to put herself between it and the wall, seeking any kind of protection that she could.

Erik lunged himself at the count, dragging him to his feet before shoving a glistening dagger against his throat. His eyes were blazing, his pupils fully dilated as he held the count by the hair and a dagger in the other hand. Lisette did her best to compose herself, but the pain of what just happened was too much. She doubled over, collapsing as a sob that sounded like a wounded animal escaped her body.

"How dare you!" she heard him cry. "You pig! Scum! And in this place of holy music! Count yourself lucky, monsieur, for death and I are friends. Yours will be the most painful I can offer."

His words rang to Lisette's very core. "Erik!" she said softly, knowing he would hear her. "Don't!"

Erik didn't even glance at her, instead pressing the throat even more firmly into the count's throat. She was beginning to think nothing could stop him from murdering the count!

"If you kill him, all of Paris will be after you!" she cried, clutching to the divan as if it would protect her from anymore pain. "Or worse, they will suspect me. Please!"

"And let this swine live?" Erik said, spitting on the count's face. A sound of fury came from the count, but he dared not move, knowing that the Opera Ghost had the upper hand at the moment.

"I won't touch your pretty friend again, monsieur," the count said with a sneer. "I can see now she was saving herself for someone else, but don't worry, I tested the waters. You should enjoy yourself quite immensely!"

Erik let out a cry of fury. He dropped the dagger only to beat the count on the head, kicking at part of the count he was unable to cover. Knowing that he was beyond controlling himself, she flung herself from the divan.

"I beg you!" she said, clinging onto Erik's cloak. "Don't kill him! For your sake! For my sake! This will be the end of us both!"

Upon seeing her distraught state, Erik's expression softened. But Erik knew better than to let down his guard for even a moment. Turning back to the count, he grabbed him by the neck, hoisting him into the air. Lisette stared with wide eyes, unaware of how strong Erik was until now.

"I will let you live today," Erik hissed. "But if I even see you looking at her, walking in the wrong direction, or put one foot out of place in my opera house, I can guarantee that I know several ways to torture and kill a man. You will be my prized victim, as it will take weeks for them to find your intestines scattered throughout the cellars."

The count let out a strained gasp as he grasped helplessly at the hand that was hoisting him in the air. Lisette, still at Erik's feet, buried her face into his cloak, unable to look at this man anymore. At last, Erik threw him to the ground, smiling at the satisfying thud he made as he made contact with the marble floor.

"Get out of my sight," Erik said.

The count stood up slowly, slicking back the hair which had fallen out of place. Lisette was pleased to see that Erik had torn off a sleeve of his suit, making him appear rather ridiculous and therefore unable to enjoy the rest of the ball. He glared at Lisette, who whimpered and looked away. However, she took this moment to steady herself, determined to show him that he hadn't won. She stood as well, doing her best to stare him down, despite feeling her hands trace Erik's cloak as she rose. The count's gaze seemed to be transfixed on her, but he blinked and his expression hardened.

He turned to leave, but not before spitting in her direction and saying, "Don't think you won't forget about tonight. Your only choice now is to marry me, unless you want to be a whore the Opera Ghost."

Before she could respond, Erik lunged at him, giving a series of fierce blows to the head. She heard the count cry out, but was quickly muffled with another series of hits. Erik's fury was not what surprised her, but she was surprised to see blood beginning to trickle onto the marble floor. Slowly, Erik let up the brutal attack, kicking the count in the side as he stood.

"Don't think you won't forget about me," Erik said. "You'll be coming to me begging for a merciful death before the season is over."

Erik turned to Lisette, making eye contact for the first time. He extended a gloved hand to her. "Kommen Sie. Come here."

His hand made her shrink away. "Wohen gehen vir? Where are we going?"

Erik glanced at the count, clearly confused by their German conversation.

"Ich bringe dich von hier veg. Irgendwo kann ich dich beschützen. I'm taking you away from here. Somewhere I can protect you."

For a brief moment, she hesitated. This was the same man who had ignored her for months, dropped a chandelier on her head, and killed Armel. But she examined the exposed side of his face, which was wrought from twisted emotion she couldn't understand. Yet, here he was, saving her from hell. Was he truly an angel as Christine said? The very thought made Lisette whimper as what had just happened came washing over her once more.

"Sehr gut," she said shakily, taking the hand. "Very well. Aber nur wenn du für mich singst. But only if you will sing for me."