Yikes... sorry to leave you all hanging for a few months! Good news, I have the majority of the story written, it's just been a matter of typing the chapters up! My computer died at the beginning of June and it's taken me this long to finally get another one. I'm sure for everyone the pandemic has made things all the more difficult in getting things accomplished and writing these chapters were no exception!

Thank you to those who have been reviewing my story and giving me honest feedback! While I don't always reply, I do read every single one and take to heart what you all have to say. We finally get to meet another character from Leroux's novel in this chapter and we'll see if any of you are surprised he's making an appearance in this story!

Paris, March 1881

Lisette ran in a full spring from the Conservatoire to the Opera House. As the end of March was drawing near, spring was in full force with rain showers. The entire morning and afternoon had been filled with heavy rain and strong winds, causing any leaves that had dared to sprout to break free of their limbs and tumble down the street. She cursed herself that the one thing she'd forgotten in her apartment since moving into the opera house was an umbrella. She had searched Erik's home, only to laugh to herself when she realized he would have no need for one.

Her rucksack of music was clutched against her stomach, trying desperately to protect it with the flimsy shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She reached the looming Palais Garnier, she bounded up the stairs and stopped under the entrance, leaning against one of the large pillars as she hesitantly pulled the rucksack from its protective covering. Amazingly, it was dry even though the rest of her was soaked through. She knew for certain she would've faced the wrath of the Opera Ghost if she ruined his manuscripts.

As she took off her shawl and used it as a makeshift towel for her hair, a movement from the corner of her eye made her sink into the shadows. Considering it was an early afternoon in the middle of the week, it was surprising for anyone to be using the front entrance. All employees of the opera house used the back entrance, with the exception of Carlotta, but she hadn't been seen for weeks. There was a man dressed in a smart looking suit, but the complexion of his skin and unusual looking hat made her stare in wonder. Paris was accustomed to foreigners, as gypsy camps usually came through and foreign tourists were always wanting to marvel at the Louvre, Notre Dame, and the Arc de Triomphe. But these foreign tourists stood out in their exotic clothing and accents, while this man dressed in Western clothes silently entered the opera house through the front entrance as though he'd been doing so his entire life. Perhaps he was a client of Moncharmin and Richard? She didn't linger on the thought as she longed for dry clothes and to sit in front of the warm fireplace in Erik's sitting room.

The evening approached far more slowly than Lisette would have liked. Her feet dragged to Erik's home, where she wanted nothing more than to lay her head down and rest for the evening. She was surprised to find Erik gone when she arrived, the gloominess of the underground home unsettling her even more with his absence. In the dining room, a small platter of meat, bread, cheese, and wine was laid out for her with a note stating he would be gone for the evening. He asked her to finish composing the trio at the end of Act III and he would look over it when he returned in the morning. She dove into the plate of food, ravenous after her day of rehearsals and was aware of the drowsiness the wine brought forth. She yawned loudly and headed to the sitting room where Erik had set up a small bed for her. She would take a short nap before finishing the trio.

She woke a few hours later, blinking sleepily as she checked the clock on the mantle. It was nearly midnight, but in Erik's world, this was the perfect time to compose. Listening, she could tell Erik still hadn't returned and sheepishly moved to the drawing room. Erik's latest addition to Don Juan Triumphant sat on the organ, the ink still fresh as he must have only finished it hours before. As she went to get a pen, she groaned seeing how there was no ink left. She knew Reyer kept some in the ensemble room, but she prayed no one would catch her sneaking around at this time of night.

She was still trying to blink the sleep from her eyes as she moved through the passageways to the top of the opera house. As she grabbed a small ink pot from Reyer's podium, she had the sense that someone was watching her. She'd grown used to the feeling after knowing Erik for nearly a year, but she sensed that it was not Erik. Her heart was grasped by fear as she instantly thought of the count, nearly running back to the passageway she had come from, not caring she had knocked over several chairs and music stands in her hurry. When the door to the passageway opened, she clamored for the switch to quickly close it behind her, but her fears were seemingly confirmed. She felt a hand push her against the wall and she was soon enveloped in darkness, struggling against the hands that held her. Her throat was paralyzed, unable to emit the scream that she so desperately wanted to release, knowing it was useless as Erik was not around to protect her.

She remembered the ink pot in her hand. With one swift motion, she swung her arm and smashed it into her attacker's skull. The ink burst from the pot, flying all over her and feeling her attacker loosen his grip. She instantly flew down the passageway, praying fate was on her side as she was familiar with the purposefully complicated maze of tunnels. But footsteps followed her and once more, the hands closed around her shoulder.

"Please, mademoiselle, I do not wish to harm you!"

Lisette instantly felt herself relax at the sound of the voice. While she did not recognize it, she knew that this was not the count. She blinked in surprise as a match was lit and a small lamp on the wall illuminated the passageway. The man she'd seen outside the opera house this afternoon was before her! Except his hat was missing, probably due to her blow to the head, and ink stained his suit, face, and hair. She was horrified to see the blood was mingling with the dark ink and it dripped down his cheek.

"Why are you following me?" she asked. "You should not be here. You're putting yourself in terrible danger!"

"I am not the one who's in danger," the man said. His accent was unlike anything Lisette had ever heard. He was not Romani, nor Latin… perhaps Indian or Middle Eastern? The man continued, ignoring her stares. "It is your friend you should be worried about."

She did not need to guess to know he was referring to Erik. Did this man know the Opera Ghost's secret? He must, seeing how he had followed her into the passageway, something no one except for Madame Giry was aware of.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, praying that her lie was believable. It wasn't.

"Take me to him," the main said, slightly pushing her down the passageway. "Erik has nothing to hide from me."

So he did know Erik! But was this man a friend? She had never heard Erik talk of anyone beyond those currently employed in the opera house. Was this an old enemy come to seek revenge?

She pushed against him, doing her best to move him back to the exit.

"Mademoiselle," he said, showing his hands to reveal he had no weapons. "Please, you must trust me. I fear Erik has endangered himself. I must find him and talk to him!"

Lisette held her breath, praying she was not making a mistake by giving information to this man.

"Erik is gone for the night," she said. "He left me a note saying he would be back in the morning."

The man let out a curse beneath his breath. "I feared as much. Please, I must speak with him as soon as he returns. Take me to where he lives. I know all about his underground home and pose no threat to you or your musical friend."

Lisette was leading him to Erik's home before she was aware of what she was doing. She had never imagined Erik as someone who would be in danger unknowingly, and she remembered when Erik had mentioned he thought someone had been following him around the opera house. She glanced at the man following behind. Had this been the man? He seemed harmless, not the type to sabotage the dropping of a chandelier onto the heads of Parisian society.

As they neared the underground lake, she heard an unfamiliar sound, almost like metal clanging against the pavement. The man instinctively brought a finger to his lips, motioning Lisette to follow him. She was surprised to see him draw a long pistol from his belt, cocking it as the metal clanging grew louder and louder. She cowered behind him, comforted he had a weapon to protect them at the discovery of an intruder. They came to a corner where the sound lay just beyond.

"I'll go first," the man whispered. "Wait, and I'll let you know if it's safe."

He quickly rounded the corner, his pistol pointed in front of him. Lisette closed her eyes and plugged her ears, waiting for the fateful shot.

"Mademoiselle, you can come out."

She rounded the corner and laughed in relief. "Cesar!" she exclaimed, petting the horse's mane.

"Cesar?" the man asked, returning the pistol to his belt.

"One of the opera house's horses! He was reported stolen months ago. I should have known Erik was responsible for his disappearance!" The horse took a few steps toward her, confirming the sound they had heard as his hooves made contact with the cobblestone. She buried her hand in the horse's mane, feeling the coarse strands against her fingertips. In the weeks she'd spent utilizing this particular passage, she'd never run into any suspicions Cesar was down here as well. How had he wandered this far underneath the opera house?

She pulled her head away to motion to the man to take the reins, when she caught sight of her hand.

"Blood!" she said in horror.

Cesar's mane was shiny in the dim light. Lisette realized with dread that the mane was covered in blood and quickly wiped her hand against the creature's fur to remove its remnants.

"It's not the horse's blood," the man said, carefully inspecting Cesar. "It came from the rider."

"We must hurry," Lisette said. "I'll come back for the horse later. There's no way to transport him across the lake to Erik's home."

The man nodded and they hurried on, nearly tripping over their feet as they stumbled through the dark. Just as they were about to reach the entrance of the lake, Lisette tripped, tumbling onto the floor.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, helping her back to her feet.

"Fine, I think," she replied, brushing herself off. "My foot caught on something."

As she spoke these words, a small groan echoed around them. They both spun around, squinting at the spot where Lisette had just fallen. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she let out a cry of surprise.

Crumpled on the floor lay Erik, facedown with a pool of blood surrounding him. His hand reached towards them weakly.

"Nadir, Lisette," he said, his voice barely audible, before losing consciousness. Lisette turned to the man named Nadir, who was staring at Erik in absolute horror.