Thank you for the favorites and follows.

Thank you for more reviews last chapter.

Penwearer: Thank you so much for your review. I greatly appreciated it.

I know, I know, it's been awhile. Apologies for the long now two year wait, but I just lost interest and writers block. Then the year of 2020 was a very long year. I think we can all agree on that. I haven't done a very good job writing. I worked a little bit on original stuff of my own. I was blessed to be able to work during that time. I also bought my first game console in over 10+ years and I started an Etsy shop. I hope you're all doing well after this unique past year and kept busy.

I switched this story from Phantom of the Opera to the Love Never Dies category. I was unaware there an LND category when I first published. I've also gone back and edited some things in this story.

Thank you for reading. This chapter has some Christine, Gustave, and plenty of Erik in this chapter.

Chapter Eight

The Shadow

Later that day...

Noon

Christine walked around the second floor hallway a few times. She breathed in and out.

She could do this...

She would do this.

Christine had rehearsed this moment over and over so many times in the past. Though she had not imagined it happening quite like this. Then Christine stood in front of her son's bedroom door.

Knock! Knock!

"Gustave? Gustave, it's me." Christine waited for a moment, but didn't hear a response.

She knocked on the door a few more times.

Christine sighed, she supposed he was ignoring her. She turned the handle and slowly opened the wooden door. Christine saw a figure lying in bed under the covers. "Darling, you can be mad at me all you want."

They were even, Christine was not particularly pleased with Gustave either. She still could not quite fathom the idea that her son, her own child had snuck out of bed in the middle of the night. Out on his own in New York, something so potentially dangerous and irresponsible.

This was nothing like him. Gustave had always been a good child, he seldom cried as a baby, and rarely caused mischief. Christine supposed he felt compelled to do it. Seeking answers to his growing questions, but following her all the way to Coney on his own?

It was unthinkable. This whole situation was unthinkable.

Christine used to blame herself, but now she blamed Erik too. Gustave's actions were very reminiscent of his father. Also, Erik was the one who insisted they keep the truth from Gustave for so long.

They had made such a mess of their lives!

Which was why they just needed to get it done and out into the light.

Christine had been thinking this ever since she came home.

After ordering Gustave to bed, Ms. Frances who stayed over to watch the children came in the nursery to see what was the matter. She had probably overheard her and Gustave.

"It's fine, go," Christine quietly hissed. She didn't blame Frances for Gustave's folly. She was just exhausted and upset. After all, Christine had known Gustave had been watching her closely the past week. She supposed she never imagined him taking it to that extreme.

After calming Isabel to sleep, Christine quietly peaked in Gustave's room to make sure he was there. Thankfully he was, Christine remembered breathing in relief.

Then Christine went to bed, but couldn't sleep. She just laid there in the dark, fuming and thinking about the night and the morning.

The rest of the staff arrived a few short hours later.

As Frances came into the bedroom to open the drapes, Christine apologized for snapping at her. Then she explained that she was keeping Gustave home and asked that he too not be disturbed. She doubt he slept either. She also asked Frances to go down to the post office and send a telegram to the Master.

After Frances went downstairs, Christine got up once more to check on Gustave. Satisfied he was sleeping in his bed, she went back to bed and fell asleep for a few hours. She had only woken up in the last hour. Frances had explained that Gustave was already up. He had eaten breakfast, talked with Frances, and went back to his room. Christine finally decided that she had to do it.

Christine took a deep breath, "But we still need to talk about earlier this morning...and your father." Yes, Erik would be upset for what she was about to do, but she believed he would see reason and forgive her.

"Gustave?" Christine raised a brow as she moved in closer.

He still had not moved.

Christine's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

He wouldn't...

As Christine approached the bed, fury and absolute dread filled her. She pulled back the untidy covers and found not Gustave, but two pillows.

Earlier...

Gustave barely slept the rest of the morning. He kept tossing and turning. Between all the night's events, thoughts, and questions playing throughout his mind, it made his head and heart pound. A few times Gustave thought his heart would leap out of his chest. His stomach ached and he felt almost half sick. He didn't know if it was stress, hunger, or all the above.

The last thing Gustave remembered was dawn breaking through the windows. He woke up after ten, due to all the sunlight creeping into his bedroom. He supposed he was not going to school, but that was the last thing on his mind right now.

Gustave got up, dressed, and went to look for some breakfast. He didn't bother picking up his dirty clothes or making his bed.

Downstairs Ms. Karen and Ms. Frances greeted him.

Ms. Karen gave him his plate of food and Ms. Frances informed him his Mother was keeping him home today.

While Ms. Karen did not seem to understand the reason why. "Are you feeling unwell, young Master?" Drying off her fingers, she briefly placed a hand over his forehead.

As Gustave ate, he wondered if his mother had said or if she had told them anything at all. How much did they know? Did they know about him?

He supposed Ms. Frances knew.

"No," Gustave eyed Ms. Frances. "No, I just didn't sleep well." Which was true. At least someone around here was being honest.

Noticing his gaze, Ms. Frances whispered something to Ms. Karen. Then tilted her head to the side.

"Very well," Ms. Karen nodded and disappeared.

"If you're going to scold me—" Gustave took another bite of his toast. "I don't want to hear it." He was certain he would get a tongue lashing later.

Ms. Frances scowled as she sat down next to him, "I'm not." Though it looked like she wanted to. "Your mother's still in bed, but wants to speak with you soon." Her tone suggested that was a good idea.

"I don't want to talk to her," Gustave said bitterly, looking away.

Frowning, Ms. Frances sat there for a moment. She looked very concerned, "I heard you and your mother arguing last night."

Gustave looked down. He supposed that made sense, among other things. "You know about him." Then he looked up at her.

It was not a question. She must. Mother told her everything. She helped her keep track of her schedule, the maids, and other household matters.

Ms. Frances raised a brow, "You mean Mr. Y?" She seemed to consider her answer, "Yes," She said matter-of-factly.

Gustave could not believe how calmly she said it. "You...you know that she and him are..." He could not believe what he was thinking or saying. "You know she's a whore?" He did not bother hiding the emotion in his voice, but fought back the tears. He would not dare cry.

"Gustave!" Ms. Frances gasped.

"It's the truth!"

Ms. Frances reached for his hand and shoulder. "I know you are upset, but you will not speak of your mother in such a manner."

"It's the truth," Gustave quietly repeated.

"There are many truths." Ms. Frances considered her next words carefully. "The most important truth is that she loves you and your sister very much." She looked like she wanted to say something else, but decided against it.

How could she say that she loved them when she had done something like this to their family? To his father?

If Raoul de Chagny even was his father.

Gustave fought back his emotions. He took a moment to gather himself. Gustave understood Ms. Frances was just trying to comfort him. He supposed it was part of her job though he liked to believe she cared. He did not know what to believe anymore. "What do you know about him?" He demanded.

Ms. Frances considered the question, "Very little, I do know he's a bit...eccentric." She smiled, "But he hired my brother when no one else would."

Gustave gave her a puzzled look.

"My brother lost most of his fingers in a work accident years ago," Ms. Frances touched her own fingers as she explained.

Gustave supposed there were several employees at Phantasma with missing arms, legs, or other features.

Gustave opened his mouth to say something else, but the words caught in his throat. He was so tired and confused.

Ms. Frances rubbed his arm, "Why don't you go play some lovely music on that piano of yours?"

Gustave tried to smile. He would love that, he would, but he just couldn't. Not right now, "I just want to be left alone," Gustave said quietly as he got up from his chair. "Think I'll go to my room." He wished he could stay in there forever.

"Alright," Frances walked him to the doorway and watched him walk up the stairs. She may have said something else, but he did not hear her.

Gustave was too busy replaying the previous night's events in his head.

Mr. Y and Mother talking together, singing together.

"Sing!"

Mother's high note.

The rose.

The rose...

Approaching his bedroom door, realization dawned on Gustave. He vaguely recalled how Father had once mentioned how he disliked red roses or maybe how Mother disliked them. Now Gustave understood the real reason. It wasn't that anyone disliked roses, they were just a reminder of Mr. Y.

Gustave opened, closed the door, and sat at the window seat. Watching the clear blue sky, he thought some more.

"Allow me to escort you home."

The ride home with Mr. Y.

The way Mr. Y spoke to him, he sounded like a parent.

Mr. Y escorting him to the door.

"You lost something."

"Is he my father?"

"Raoul de Chagny is your father...go to bed."

"I want the truth!"

"Go. To. Bed."

He wondered if his mother was still in bed or if she was just avoiding him. It didn't matter. He didn't want to speak with her either.

Who did he want to speak with?

His Father, the Vicomte probably knew the truth. Maybe this was even the real reason they divorced. It would take days—weeks before he would get an answer from Paris. Assuming Father would even tell him the truth. Maybe Father did not even know. That would certainly make things awkward. How would he even ask or write such a thing?

Bonjour, Father,

Are you my real father?

Gustave shook his head. How messed up was that?

He sensed the Vicomte had to know.

Should he wait on one of his parents to tell him the answers? Whenever that would be.

No.

No, he would not.

Gustave left the table, not bothering to finish the rest. He did not have the patience to wait. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

Besides, what would Mother even say? Probably nothing, nothing but lies in any case.

Gustave gritted his teeth as he got from his window seat.

He wondered...

If Mother wouldn't tell him the truth, maybe he would.

Coney Island

Phantasma

Erik sat in Madame Giry's office, they were having their typical Friday morning meeting. Though Erik had pushed it back due to noon, much to Madame Giry's annoyance.

For the most part, nothing too important was being discussed.

One of the rides was malfunctioning. Someone had also broken a mirror in the Hall of Mirrors, much to Erik's irritation. Those things were not cheap to replace. Three or four guests had made some minor complaints. Two new, likely positive reviews were expected to be released this weekend. On a more interesting note, they discussed some of the dance choreography. Even better, guest attendance was up five to ten percent compared to this time the previous year. All in all, it had been a good week and turning into another profitable year.

Yes, all was quiet.

Too quiet.

Giry then said something else. "—ster? Erik?" She paused, "Are you even listening to me?" She raised her voice a notch.

"Apologies," Erik covered a yawn. "I had a late evening."

Madame Giry groaned, she looked rather displeased. Like she had just heard something she did not wish to know.

Erik nearly smirked, he knew what she was thinking. "Not in the way you think." He wished. "What is really troubling you?"

Giry eyed him, "You haven't done anything to tighten our security." Nevermind her concerns. She threw something across her desk. "Then this arrived in this morning's mail."

Erik held up the envelope to read. He left his glasses downstairs, so he had to hold it up close. There was no return address, but he quickly saw the familiar handwriting. His eyes narrowed.

This was not good.

"Gangle and Fleck both saw him at last evening's performance."

Erik clasped his fingertips together. "I know, I went out and searched for him last night and this morning."

After the final performance of the evening, Erik went out and searched for him. Then he had to meet Christine for their rendezvous. After she left, Erik remembered hearing a strange noise. After looking around, he untied his horse Bucephalus, rode around the parking lot, and found the old mare. For a moment, Erik thought he was in luck. He could end this business with him once and for all. Then it turned out to be Gustave of all people. After dropping the boy off at home, Erik searched in vain around Brooklyn and parts of Manhattan for another hour or two. Exhausted, he went back home to Coney and caught a few hours of sleep.

While it was disappointing, it was no matter. In time, he would reveal himself. The best thing Erik could do was wait, he was almost as good as Erik at disappearing. "He doesn't want to be found." Of course, there were things Erik could do to speed up the process. Perhaps he should set a trap, one with a large pile of cash as the bait. That would certainly draw his attention. He worshipped money more than Erik.

Giry crossed her arms, "It was foolish to ban him."

Erik sighed, he knew what she meant. Now they couldn't keep their eye on the snake. Not to mention the rather semi public banning had wounded his pride. Though Erik had not meant for it to be so public. Still, he could not tolerate having him here any longer. He had been caught red handed.

"What would you have me do? Use the Punjab lasso?" Erik had long ago promised Christine, then the Daroga, and even Madame Giry herself that he would never do that again. He was not that person anymore. Erik's malformed lips almost twisted into a smile. Though it was rather tempting and would solve the problem permanently.

Still, Erik disliked scandal and having unwanted attention drawn to himself. He even disliked being up here in Madame Giry's office, too many nosy pairs of eyes were outside these very walls. He much preferred the solitude of his downstairs realm. Nor did Erik want the police snooping around or an angry mob after him again. No, no, he would not do that, he had Christine and the children to think of. Also, the potential scandal of a murder might effect Phantasma's reputation and ticket sales.

"You let that serpent into our garden in the first place." Madame Giry jabbed a finger in the air. "I don't care how you do it, just do something!" Her thick French accent firing away. "Double—no! Triple the security, because I swear to you, Erik, if he hurts my daughter—"

"I don't recall your complaining when he helped us years ago." Erik studied her as he leaned back in his chair. He gestured towards his chest, "Besides, it's me he wants, not—"

Knock! Knock!

Erik and Madame Giry exchanged looks, they both hated being interrupted.

"Yes?" Madame Giry called out. She was already upset and short fused due to the schedule change.

"Master, Madame Giry, I'm sorry to interrupt." Mrs. Foster peaked in. Her long dark hair hanging down her slender face. "Master, you have a visitor."

"Tell them I'm busy," Erik said with an impatient wave. He was in no mood.

"We have twice," The young woman said cautiously, "But he insists." She pulled a boy into view.

Gustave.

Erik stood, brow raised, "Is his mother here?"

"No, no, he seems to be alone." Mrs. Foster began to look uncomfortable. "He also tried...going downstairs." She said reluctantly. "We have no idea how even got past the—"

"Thank you, Mrs. Foster," Erik waved his hand. "Leave us." He would later send a lengthy note to the office staff on how they nearly let a mere boy get past them.

Erik looked back and saw Giry glaring at him. Her point had obviously been made. "Touché," He conceded on her growing concerns.

Giry still did not seem pleased, but she eyed their guest. She rose from her office swivel chair and approached the boy. "Young Gustave," Madame Giry gave him a sharp, disapproving look. "What are you doing here?" It was not a weekend or holiday. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

She had an excellent point. His schooling did not end for another three hours.

Gustave said nothing. His piercing brown eyes remained focused on Mr. Y.

Clearly irritated that he was ignoring her, Madame Giry took a few steps forward. "Young Gustave..."

Erik rose as he cut her off, "I got this, Antoinette."

Madame Giry raised a brow at Erik and Gustave. While they never discussed the topic at length, she had alluded several times that she knew the truth about Gustave. "Very well, shall I leave you two alone?"

"No," Erik assumed she needed her office. He paused, he did not want Gustave going downstairs to his realm either. The last time that happened it did not end so well. "Is anyone using the conference room?" It was just down the hallway and rather private.

"No," Madame Giry replied.

"Make certain we are not disturbed." Erik paused. "Go ahead and hire those extra guards," He added.

Erik could have sworn he saw a smile cross her face. Then he returned his attention to Gustave.

The boy could have been carved from stone.

Erik had never seen this side of the boy. He seemed taller and...angry? Perhaps he truly had gotten more from him than just his cleverness or musical gifts.

How much had he seen last night? Was this what Christine telegrammed him for? All it said was that they needed to speak as soon as possible. So she probably knew nothing of Gustave skipping school. However, between his late night, Giry, and everything going on this morning he had not had the chance to contact Christine.

Maybe Gustave would provide him the answers.

Erik hesitated, he knew this was not a good idea. However, after this morning's encounter, he greedily wanted to spend time with his eldest child. Erik also did not want someone interrupting or overhearing them. He also could not help but notice how Gustave no longer seemed afraid of him. Erik was not certain how that made him feel. The thought made him feel a combination of curious, confused, relieved, worried, and intrigued. Though Erik wondered how long his newfound fearlessness would last. Even if Gustave was no longer horrified by him, the boy would probably still be repulsed by him. So Erik was hardly convinced by Christine's earlier request.

Erik swept his arm to the side, "Walk with me."

Gustave shadowed him as they left the office and walked down the hallway. Erik walked at a slower stride so Gustave could keep up.

Two office workers took quick note of them.

Once they were out of earshot, Erik asked, "How did you get in here?"

"The secretary at the side door was on the phone. The others were busy." Gustave said as if it were so simple.

Erik smiled, "You'll make a fine magician." One of the great secrets of magic was timing, especially when it came to a disappearing act.

Erik could sense Gustave's glare.

"Does she know you're here?" Erik very much doubted that.

Gustave did not answer that question, but simply retorted, "Are you going to tattle?"

Tattle?

Erik smirked as he opened and closed the conference room door behind them. "Eventually," He would probably call her after this little showdown. He sat down at the end of the table.

Gustave frowned as he just stood there by the doorway.

Erik gestured for him to sit down.

Gustave slowly took a seat. Arms crossed, he kept looking at Erik. As if he was trying to make up his mind about something.

Erik wondered what thoughts occupied that young, bright mind. "Do you not like your school?" Perhaps the question seemed a bit random, but between his fight and now playing hookey, he was clearly unhappy.

Erik could not understand it. Gustave had a safe home, a mother who loved him, a father who had given him his name, a sister to love, warm meals to eat, and a clean bed to sleep in at night. He had the world at his fingertips and everything Erik longed for as a boy. If he believed Mr. Y and his mother were having an affair, so what? He was a child, they were adults, and it was none of his business.

Gustave clearly found the question random. Then he shrugged, "What's it to you?"

Erik wanted to reply how he was the one who had invested in his education, but decided against it. That would raise a number of inquiries. "I want to make certain your Mother's salary is well spent." He hated wasting money. That was one of the reasons he had become so wealthy. Also, he wanted Gustave to be happy.

"It's fine," Gustave gave him a look that seemed to say how that was none of his business. Changing the subject he asked, "Did you ever live in Paris?"

Erik considered the question, "In another lifetime." It truly was. It seemed longer than twelve years ago.

A triumphant looking Gustave seemed to take that as a yes. "Ever been to the Paris Opera House?"

Erik paused, he did not like where this was going. "I've travelled many places." He kept his answer vague.

Gustave's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Erik shrugged, "Why do you want to know?"

Ignoring the question, Gustave quickly asked, "Were you the Opera Ghost?"

"He..." Erik flinched. That was unexpected. He supposed it should be no surprise the boy had heard some of the stories. "He died before you were born." Where was this coming from? Again, why did he want to know this?

Gustave appeared to see right through the lie. "I don't like you," He said sharply.

Erik smirked, "You are hardly the first to voice that sentiment." Though people who had seen his true face usually voiced their displeasure in name-calling, horrified looks, or shrieking in fear.

Still, Erik could not help but softly chuckle and shrugged. He was accustomed to dealing with the cunning Madame Giry, challenging investors, bootlicking or ambitious performers. Yet this mere boy felt it was well within his rights to question and make demands of him. It was quite novel. "A pity though, I find myself strangely fond of you." He quickly regretted saying this.

"And why is that?" Gustave asked accusingly.

Erik remained silent. He had said too much.

"What am I to you?"

Erik closed his eyes. Biting his lower lip. He twisted the ring on his finger. How much did he know? Had Christine said something? No, if she had then he wouldn't be here seeking answers. How much had he seen or heard last night? Yes, he might have figured out they were having an "affair", but Erik had not counted on him figuring out the rest. Maybe Christine was right. Erik lowered his head as he turned and rose from his chair, "I'm calling your Mother."

"Wait—that's not fair!" Gustave called out.

"Life's not fair," Erik replied cooly. Otherwise, why had God given him this face?

Scowling, Gustave began to rise from his seat to chase after him.

"You stay in that chair." Erik ordered, index finger pointed at Gustave. "Don't even think about leaving," He warned.

Closing the door, Erik stalked back down the hallway. Several people noticed his brisk pace as he reached the phone on its small desk on the side of the office. He hated having all these eyes on him, but nevermind that. He supposed for many of them, they had seen more of their mysterious, masked overseer in the past 24 hours than the entire time they had worked here.

Erik did not bother greeting the operator. Instead he gave her the address and impatiently waited. He looked over his shoulder as the operator noisily connected him.

Gustave kicked the swivel chair. He paced around a little and then sat back down in defeat.

He swayed to the right and left in the chair, thinking about what to do next. He did not want to go home. Gustave did not wish to see his mother. Granted, she would probably be here shortly so it did not really matter. He could not leave, he knew Mr. Y would hunt him down if he tried to run away. Between this and last night, his mother would probably lock him in his room for life, he was doomed.

Gustave saw that much.

What he did not see was the room's curtains silently close.

Nor did he see the shadow that crept up behind him.

Gustave gasped as something cold and metal touched his head.

Meanwhile...

"Eidolon residence," It was Ms. Frances.

Finally! Erik was beginning to think they'd never get through. "It's the Master. I need to speak with her." He instructed, doing his best to keep everything vague. He feared one of the secretaries, office workers, or the phone operators would overhear something private.

Erik supposed he should consider having a telephone placed in his realm. He rarely used the absurd device, so never saw the need. He preferred writing letters, notes, or sending telegrams.

"Yes, sir," Frances said formally.

Erik waited impatiently.

Moments later, "This is she," Christine swiftly answered moments later. She sounded out of breath, as if she had sprinted to the phone.

"The young detective is here."

"Oh, thank God," Christine murmured. "I was about to call you." She breathed in and out. "I just found his bed empty. How is he?"

So she had kept him home today. Erik supposed that made sense after last night. "He should consider a career in espionage." If Erik was not so disappointed in Gustave for disobeying his mother—again, he might have been impressed and secretly kind of proud.

What were they teaching him at that school?

Erik breathed as he closed his eyes. "We've spoken a little," He said weakly then looked over his shoulder. "Though it's rather escalated into an interrogation."

Christine paused, "After you brought him home, he confronted me. He asked me if you are his..." Her voice trailed off.

"Yes," Erik swallowed and held a hand over his temple. "Yes, he asked me something akin to that."

"Darling..." Christine said with a hint of urgency.

"I know," Erik said matter of factly. "I know what we need to do. I'd bring him, but I'm tied up here." Though perhaps he should just cancel the rest of today's appointments. Yes, Madame Giry, Daroga, and that investor who insisted on meeting him would all be displeased, but Gustave was more important.

Christine breathed in the phone, "I'll be there shortly."

Then they would tell him together.

Erik breathed for a moment, "Okay."

"Don't let him out of your sight," Christine sounded exasperated. Clearly fearing he would wander off again.

He silently hoped Gustave followed his orders.

Erik nervously smirked, "Right." He sighed as they said their goodbyes and hung up.

Shortly?

Erik looked at the nearby wall clock. Granted, it was about a 25 minute drive by carriage, depending on how busy the streets of New York were and it was a Friday. Still 25 minutes felt like an eternity. It was much quicker if one knew the proper alleys to cut through. He supposed he should have mentioned them to Christine, but it was too late now.

Erik walked back down the hallway. Steps away from the door, he stopped. Erik paced around a few times. Deciding what to do, should he go back in? Maybe he should wait.

Erik sighed, hands on his hips. He felt like a complete coward. He had run from the police, an angry mob, executioners, and many other unspeakable horrors. Yet here he was, intimidated by his eleven-year-old son. Erik felt so pathetic and weak. Should they have told him months ago like Christine had wanted? It didn't matter, Gustave's reaction would still be the same as he imagined. Horrified. Enraged.

Erik could only pray Gustave did not blame his mother for their sins.

Erik groaned, he ran a hand over his face. He finally decided to open the door. If nothing else, Erik would wait with Gustave and make sure he didn't wander off again. Unless one found the secret passage—unlikely, he should still be in there. As he opened the door, Erik immediately noticed the lights were off as he entered.

Strange.

"Your Mother is—"

"Master," Said an accented male voice.

Erik froze as the room temperature seemed to drop. He knew that icy voice. The door slowly clicked shut behind him. "I wondered when you would reveal yourself."

It was him.

Erik had been anticipating this confrontation, but not quite this soon.

In the shadows, Erik's bright blue-grey eyes quickly analyzed the situation. The curtains were drawn so no one could look inside and see what was happening. Most of the lights were turned off too. He had chosen well in his hunting ground since the conference room was far away from the other office spaces and sound proof.

Erik's eyes then found Gustave, who was no longer in that same chair, nor did he wear that scowl. Instead he was standing a few feet away from the table. Even in the dark, Erik could tell Gustave was as white as a sheet, but trying not to shake or cry.

Standing behind Gustave was a man of medium height and dark skin. He wore an expensive, but well-worn suit, tie, and hat. One of his hands held Gustave by the collar. In the other hand, there was a small pistol, the muzzle pointed at the side of Gustave's head.

Pulse racing, Erik calmly stated, "Darius..."

What do you think? I hope Erik and Christine seem in character. That has been one of my great fears.

Trivia: The character, Darius is briefly in the original The Phantom of the Opera novel and plays a more prominent role in The Phantom of Manhattan, which is what Love Never Dies is loosely based off of. He's the one that shoots Christine, not Meg. I sometimes wish he had been in LND, then there would have had been a proper villain and not Meg. Though I still don't like that Christine dies, but I don't think anyone does. I wish I had included him more in a previous chapter, but oh well.

Bucephalus was the name of Alexander the Great's horse. I recently listened to a novel on the Macedonian King. I could see Erik naming his horse after a historical one, especially one of a legendary King. His horse from the original novel was called Caesar. I thought about calling his horse in this story Caesar II, but that didn't seem very creative.

Madame Giry's first name is said to be Antoinette in The Phantom of Manhattan novel. I wanted to make her seem more caring about Meg in this story. I hated that aspect in LND.

At first I was going to leave this chapter on a cliffhanger. Then I changed my mind, feeling that would be too cruel after 2 years of waiting. However, the chapter became too long, so I had to divide it up. Apologies. Though I promise one will not have to wait another 2 years for the next installment.

Again, I hope everyone is doing well. Please leave a review. Pretty please.