I am warm. Very warm. But it is an improvement considering only seconds ago I was blistering hot and laying on something uncomfortable and lumpy. I try to open my eyes, but they are glued shut. Something cool and wet slithers across my forehead, instantly cooling the tingling heat for a split second. I whimper when the heat returns.

"Ssh," a soft voice soothes. "It's alright." The voice is young and feminine. "You don't need to worry." She is speaking in a foreign language-that much I can tell-but I don't understand how I can understand it. Nor am I certain which language it is.

I don't understand what is going on. Where are my friends? I want to ask, but my throat is clogged and scratchy. Where is Crystal? Where are we? Are they here with you? Who are you? I hate not getting answers! Now I am frightened.

"Daddy!" The girl becomes alarmed at my squirming. Feet lightly stomp away. Based on her voice and the light footsteps, she has got to be very young.

More footsteps-heavier this time-come my way. "Yes, I'm coming! Okay," a man sighs above me. This must be her dad. "What was going on, Christine? Oh." I feel two gentle hands caressing my face. "Easy. It's okay, young man." The girl-Christine-whimpers in fright at my fit. "It'll be fine, Christine. Can you refill this bowl of water for him?"

I mutter and grumble under my breath. I want answers! Where are my friends? Where's Crystal? What's happening? My eyes open, and I gasp in shallow breaths. My vision is blurry, I blink quickly, and the man's face comes to view. His face is as warm as his hands, and just as soothing.

"Hey. Are you okay, young man?"

I lift my head and a wave of nausea hits me. I lean over, intent on throwing up, but I only dry heave.

"It's probably best if you lay still for now. You and the rest of your crew are extremely dehydrated and sunburnt."

My skin pricks at me like a thousand tiny needles. I will be peeling.

"M-my friends?" My God, it even hurts to talk! My voice is dry and raspy.

Christine returns with the bowl.

"Little Lotte, fetch us some drinking water, as well, please."

She nods and runs out of the room.

The man coughs lightly. "Your friends are fine. See?"

I follow his extended hand and see everyone but Crystal, of course. They look as bad as I feel, but I'm relieved. All of us are here. Well, most of us, anyway.

Christine returns with the water. The man holds the cup for me as I gulp it down, water dribbling from my chin. He wipes my mouth with a piece of cloth. "Take it easy, now. It won't do you any good if you vomit this up."

"Where are we?" I ask, ignoring his comment.

"Why, my son! You don't know?"

I shake my head.

Incredulous, he replies, "My boy, you are in Persia!"

Persia? "Persia?" I repeat. He nods. "Persia hasn't existed since the early 1900s."

The man frowns. "What nonsense are you talking about, my boy?"

Now I am completely dumbfounded, and my throat is burning up. I don't want to talk anymore. "It's the year 2019. Persia no longer exists; it's Iran now."

The man leans back on the bed. "Maybe I should have a physician take a look at you. That sun might have done more damage than I thought."

"What?" I rasp, eyes getting drowsy.

"It's 1851, my boy. Why, you're imagining things 169 years into the future."

Red dots cloud my vision before turning black. I hear nothing.

Erik was absent for the rest of the night. For what, that is unclear. All I know is that when I woke up this morning, I was a cat again, and Erik was just shuffling out of bed. His back was drenched in sweat, so he removed his vest. I despaired at the amount of scars that were visible on his back.

He now rummages through a few drawers by the piano, releasing a noise of triumph when he finds a needle. The needle.

Oh no! No no no!

I dash forward, thwacking the needle from his hand, a growl low in my throat voices my displeasure. Erik turns slowly, his eyes furious. I'm surprised I did not go up in flames right then and there. Then he settles. "Don't want nasty Erik relying on despicable drugs near Reza, my dear?"

His fingers gently ruffle the fur on my head, and my anger deflates. "I'm afraid I can't wait. Shall we torture Erik another time?"

I huff, releasing a dramatic meow. You'll never do them again!

"Besides," he continues, with a flourish of his hand, "It is early enough." I look outside with a jolt. The sky is still dark. It is indeed very early in the morning. "The heavenly effect of this drug would have almost escaped my system by then. By the time we arrive, there'll just be enough to keep me afloat."

I sit down, my tail wrapping alongside my body. Erik tries to stick the needle in his arm again, but I thwack it like it's a toy. Erik grinds his teeth, hands shaking. "If I feed you first, your Highness, will that distract you long enough?"

No!

But it did. The piece of fish he laid down beckoned me like a siren's call, and I began gulping it down in heaps before my better instincts forbade me. Erik, graceful as ever, glides to another door. The bathroom, I'm assuming, to do his drugs in peace. I'm able to pull away from the food long enough to dart towards the door.

I make it in, and if I were human, I'd be beet red in the face.

He stares down at me with amusement. "Don't wish to be alone? You prefer my company over loneliness? Many other feminine creatures would disagree with your decision."

Always denouncing yourself as meaningless...

"As much as I appreciate your sweet sentiment, my darling, I prefer my privacy when using the facilities...and other things." He brings out the needle, but his cold, spider-like fingers pick me up and toss me on the carpeted floor, giving me a quick pat on the head before slamming the door shut.

That sneaky son of a gun.

I meow dramatically, hoping to show my disapproval. He ignores me. Limited in my decisions, I can only walk away.

The door opens, and Erik strolls out, flexing his sinewy arm, the arm that has needlepoint scars. The arm abused by drugs. His wrists hold the scars from his childhood when he first saw himself in a mirror and broke it in fear. He looks more relaxed and confident now; less shaky. He kneels at my plate. "Why, you didn't finish your food, ma chère.

But I will! I will!

I prance to my bowl and chew on the head of the fish. This is so good! And it smells like roses in spring.

Erik chuckles. "You are an unusual thing, aren't you?" he contemplates. "I do have some good news, my lovely, for I believe I've found a name for you."

My heart speeds up. I look up and gaze at him, licking my lips in the meantime. What?

Erik stands. "I believe I am going to name you Crystal. I'm kind of partial to it."

My heart stops. Oh my gosh! Erik wants to name me after...me? That's bizarre. I wonder if I made that much of an impression. I mean...I was naked.

"After our little visit to the Daroga, I shall return to do some work on your new home and some other duplicitous projects," he growls. He must be referring to the Khanum's new torture device. And I'm surprised he actually wants to take me to Nadir's home.

While on our walk to Nadir's, Erik did not coddle me, so I figured if I decided to wander in a different direction, he might have let me roam free without much interest or concern. I tested that theory. I went on top of the roofs so I could walk with him in my sight. I was his guardian, afterall. Apparently, my theory was wrong. As soon as he realized I had vanished, Erik freaked. It was subtle, but I knew how deep his anxiety ran as soon as he yelled out my name. I could smell his apprehension, so I jumped down and rubbed against his leg. He relaxed immediately.

I have concluded that I am not only his special guardian, but his therapy animal. The dark morning sky may cloak his figure from others, giving him some relief from fearful stares, but I help give him a finer confidence. Pride sweeps through me. I must say that I am thoroughly impressed with myself. I am now concerned. I have done him much good as an animal, I have no idea what good I'll do as a human.

It's a twenty minute leisurely walk from Erik's dark tower to Khan's rusty home. As early as it was, many were up and roaming about. Even Reza, who was very excited to see Erik.

"Erik! Do you have a gift for me?"

"Reza!" scolds Nadir.

"Erik always has a gift for me," he pouts.

There is a sly, almost shy, smile on Erik's lips. He kneels onto one knee, and from his pocket pulls out a box. It's a beautiful box. The wood is red with hints of black around the edges, like it was burnt in the making, but purposefully so. It is designed gothically, so I have no doubt Erik created it somehow during his own time. At the corners are engraved roses, and each rose is connected by a pointy vine along the edges.

Reza is silent, eagerly awaiting to see what is inside the gift. The box opens, and inside is a small monkey dressed in Persian robes playing the cymbals!

I would have gasped if I could. That's the music box that Erik makes, but the design is different. Why is it different? Is it because of me? Did I terribly disturb things?

Erik leans in closer to the box and whispers something into the monkey's ear. A gentle melody bursts from the box, and the monkey is moving. He's twirling and banging his cymbals. With that wacky grin on his face, I would say that Reza is enjoying the music. I am, too. I am in complete awe of this dark magic, while Nadir, who showed some brief interest, continues to sweep the floor. They will probably talk about the secrets of the contraption later-if Erik is willing to share.

The music stops. There was silence except for the gentle sweep of Nadir's broom. Reza breaks the spell. "I love it! Thank you." He reaches for the box, but Erik draws it back to him.

"You need to be gentle with it. Do you understand? It's delicate." Erik offers the music box, and Reza hesitantly grasps the box. He handles it like someone is caring for a wounded baby bird.

"I'll put it in my room. Besides my bed!" He grins like it is the best idea ever.

Erik stands up, sauntering to Nadir as Reza disappears into the hallway. I peek around the corner as I pass by it.

"He is in good spirits today," comments Erik.

"He is." Nadir places the broom aside. "Erik, I must remind you about the Fair." I jump onto the table, sitting at the corner to face them both. Nadir looks at me, face deadpanned, and sighs.

You just cleaned the table, didn't you? I lick my paw. I almost want to smile. I see why Erik gets such a thrill at annoying Nadir now. It is pretty funny.

Erik groans, rolling his eyes, and Nadir reverts his attention back to him. "Is that abomination here already?"

"Music is greatly involved, Erik. I thought you like music!"

"'Like' it?! Music is my life, Nadir, but when it comes to that asinine Fair I love playing my music," he gently seethes. "Because my music is lyrical; it moves, it flows, it emotes. It's actual music! Those other musicians-" he spits the word out with difficulty "-don't truly understand the diagnostics. They are mediocre, if that!"

The Daroga grimaces at Erik's harsh rant. "I've heard that we've invited several professional musicians to participate this year." Nadir tries to pick me up, but I move to the other side, seeing his plan in advance. "Including a very well known violinist." He tries to nab me again. He fails and grunts with frustration. My tail flickers in amusement. Erik's eyes flutter, and I think he finds this funny, as well.

"A violinist, you say? Well, what's his name? If he is truly well-known, like you say, I should recognize the title. You know I keep myself updated on admirable musicians."

"Your idea of what's considered admirable is too strict, Erik. You can list the number of musicians you obsess over on one hand." Nadir tries again. He decides to feign innocence, pretending to pick something off the table before reaching his arms out to snatch me. I just leap over them, as graceful as a swan. Nadir sighs and Erik laughs. "Erik, get your little princess off the table! I just cleaned it."

I give an internal smirk. I knew it.

"Then clean it again."

"Erik."

"Oh, you aren't any fun sometimes." Erik twerks his head, and I leap off the table and onto his shoulders. Erik tenses in surprise, but eventually relaxes.

Nadir stares for a moment. "Oh, Erik. She's a fine accessory for you."

"Confine your trap, Daroga, before I sew it shut. Now," Erik growls, growing agitated. "The violinist's name?"

"I can't recall his first name, but I believe his surname is Daaé. He and his young daughter travel across the world to play their music. Apparently his daughter has quite a gift for music, too. She is said to have the voice of an angel."

"Daaé, hmm. The name sounds familiar, but nothing is surfacing in my mind. I will look forward to criticizing him, then. And the child. Ow! Crystal!" Erik reaches up and pulls on my paws, carefully trying to unsnag my claws from his shirt.

"Crystal?" Nadir asks. "What a perfect name for your princess, Erik." They begin their usual vocal joust, but I am too dazed to focus on it.

Oh my God! Christine Daaé is coming here! Here! But how? I don't remember reading any references that she and her father ever came to Persia. First he music box and now this! It must be me. My heart skips a beat. My appearance must have altered the timeline of events. If my theory is correct, then, according to that wretched witch, my job is to make them fall in love. I gulp hard, my heart straining at the thought. But, it can't be... How am I going to achieve this? I sigh, licking my paw again. There is so much to process that I don't know where to start.

"Who is in charge of the preparations this time?" Erik groans before mumbling, "Not that it matters, really, the effort put into decorating the Fair is limited to null. The previous decorators had no style or taste." Erik snorts. "Many do lack a trained eye when it comes to decorating."

This perks Nadir's attention. "Many, but you ostracize yourself from that group, yes?"

"That's right," boasts Erik. "If I were to organize the Fair, it wouldn't be such an abomination."

Something smells fishy here. Nadir is acting too casual.

"Glad to hear it." Nadir leans against the table top. "Because the Khanum decreed that you would be in charge this time."

Erik's fist slams the tabletop, making everything unhinged bounce. "What!?"

I jump off his shoulders and leave the room. I don't want to be a part of this scene. I prance down the hall Reza passed through. I don't think I've ever explored this far before. There is no second story. Why would there be? Reza wouldn't be able to use them. My claws clack against the wood. I turn the corner and my ears perk up. Is that..? Is Reza coughing? I hurry my pace to a slight prance. I squeeze through a partially closed door where the coughing has grown louder. Reza is facing his bed, Erik's gift laying on the bedside. Reza's shoulders flinch with each cough even though he is hunched over. The coughs sound deep. My ears droop as I know what is to come. He's not going to last much longer.

I lift the upper half of my body, my paw against the wheel of his chair. I meow, curiously. Reza's coughs cease for a moment.

"Hi, kitty-" The coughing starts again. I leap up onto his lap, cuddling myself tight onto his legs. Besides dashing to get Nadir when things get dangerous, this is all I can do to offer comfort. Reza can be a brat sometimes, but I still wish I was human so I can comfort him like a mother would. Maybe I can try to stop by during the night.

Erik is fuming as we walk home, but it seems Nadir has won the argument this time, which is unusual. Erik was uncharacteristically obedient this time, maybe because it was under the Khanum's orders?

With the sun beaming brightly on the streets below, people are crowding around like rats, so Erik has taken a back route. It is dark and full of hidden arches and shadows. A perfect solution for the Angel of Death. The allies are empty, except for the brief lift of sand thanks to a gust of wind and some little kids running past us. We go unnoticed as Erik and I dive into a trench in the wall; however, we run right into a group of teenage boys torturing a preteen girl. Erik stares at them, silently observing their taunts.

Help her! The woman in me is screaming at Erik to rescue her. The feline in me is more careless. Are we going to help her or not?

Erik lurches forward with inhuman speed. I guess we are going to help her. Except there is no 'we'. By the time I get within inches of them all, Erik has already taken down two of the four. The girl is crouched on the ground, bawling, whimpering and shaking. Erik grabs his punjab lasso and uses it on the third boy's neck. The fourth is about to sneak up on Erik, but I tackle him. With a big hiss and menacing growl, I leap onto his back, digging my claws into his flesh. The boy screams, voice cracking. His only focus is to get me off his back. I don't let go, and instead, sink my teeth into his shoulder. Human blood dribbles down my esophagus, and I'm surprised by its delightful flavor. I know I am going to be sick when I am human again.

The boy mutters something in Farsi, but I am so angry that I don't take notice. He grabs the scruff of my neck and yanks me off, tossing me into the alley. I bounce off the wall, thankfully not hard enough to do any damage, but I do sit back in order to recuperate. The boys who are still up or have recovered now run away, fearful for their lives. I think they recognized Erik then, too; after all, he is a well-known assassin here. The girl continues to cower against the wall.

"Up," commands Erik. "They are gone. Go home." Erik puts away his Punjab lasso. He begins to walk away when the girl quietly murmurs, "Wait." Erik stops and slightly turns so he's only facing her diagonally.

She stands up, still shaking and finding the dirt on the ground absolutely fascinating. I feel my own curiosity emerge. What is she planning?

"Thank you, Angel of Death," she whispers.

Erik stiffens at the moniker.

She takes a small step forward, then another. Her hands, which were clasped in front of her, now reach to the tops of her robes, sliding one sleeve, then the other down her arms, revealing her young breasts. If I was human my jaw would be on the floor. This girl is like thirteen, what is she doing? Her culture, my consciousness responds. This is part of her culture. Or is there something else involved? Something feels off.

"Angel of Death," her eyes finally lift, still gleaming with left-over tears. "I must thank you...for saving my life...by granting you my body."

Erik's own surprise makes him speechless. He gazes at her face a moment more before looking away. His fist clenches. "What are you doing?" The question is menacing, demanding; he acts like he's been stabbed in the back.

The girl's eyes round. "Um...by the order of the Khanum-"

"Enough," he grinds out the word, teeth clenched. "You've said enough!" Erik looks at her again. He wants physical love, I know that for sure, but he does not want that with a young girl; and he does not want it out of obligation or thanks or evil, authoritative manipulation.

That wretched woman! How sadistic can one get?

The girl stumbles a couple steps towards him, "N-no! If I don't, I will die-"

"I'll ensure that you won't," Erik placates the girl, but her eyes remain desperate. Erik looks down at me. "This is not what I want," he utters softly. "Go home." He turns around to leave. I follow, surprised with how calm Erik actually was with her, when my ears pick up rapid footsteps quickly growing in volume. I turn around. One of the teenage boys with a broken and bloody nose is running at Erik with a knife. I yowl and leap at his face. Erik spins and sees the scene, quickly pulling out the lasso. I claw at the boy, who is screaming, blood dripping from the cuts in his skin caused by my claws. He grabs my tail and throws me. I slam against the wall and my spine snaps, colorful dots blur my vision. The pain is minute, but I believe that is thanks to the adrenaline, and that, realistically, I'm in a ton of pain. My ears ring, but through the ringing I can hear grunts and punches.

Unable to see, I hear things quiet down as the scuffling comes to a stop, and all I hear are Erik's deep breaths. I can feel myself slipping away. Fear trembles up my spine, then pain, immense pain. I am dying. But wait? Didn't the witch give me extra lives? I don't remember death being so painful. It's crumbling and numbing. Focus on something else. Lives. How many lives will I have now? I had nine, then eight, so now I'll have-

When I wake up, it feels like only a couple of seconds have passed, but it has probably been a few minutes. The sun is still shining, but there is a whimpering. Erik is in front of me on his knees, shoulders hunched and hands balled up in front of his eyes. His mask is off, forgoed into the dirt, and his clothes and hair are mussed. He definitely just got out of the fight. But why is he crying? He doesn't look hurt and I don't see blood.

I stand up on all fours. The pain is gone. I feel perfectly fine; renewed, even. I stretch. Ooh, yeah. I'm all limber again. Erik is still crying, and I can smell an overwhelming despair rolling off him. I scuttle over to his mask and pick it, clenching it gently between my teeth. It's a little too heavy for me so the chin is dragging across the ground, creating a trail in the gravel. He doesn't notice me when I sit by his knee, so I meow, the mask still in my mouth.

Erik gasps, wrenching his fists away. I am proud to admit that I am getting used to his face, but I am ashamed to say that I am slightly revolted by this new sight: Erik's face of devastation is a new one for me. His lack of a nose could not stop the nasal drip from running down; it's like watching Niagara Falls. His tears created streaks across the tightly and thinly bound skin against his skull. His cheeks have a rosy tint to them because of how forcefully he's been crying. It took awhile for the revulsion-and the shame-to disappear. My love for him still thrums wildly and lively in my chest.

His eyes widen. "My dear?" The tears stop, and I sense bliss and relief from him. "You're alive?"

Was he crying over me?

"H-how is that possible?" he splutters. "Your spine was broken."

Not anymore. I long to comfort him, not as a cat but a woman. Later tonight, I suppose, is when I'll have my chance.

My front paws step onto his thighs, I meow and nudge the mask towards him. He swipes the mask from my mouth and places it over his face. His hands are shaking at his sides. I rubbed my body against him, hoping to calm him, but he picks me up and cuddls me to his sternum. The air is knocked out of me as my ribs get crushed by his arms. I can feel him trembling.

Did he really get this emotional over me?

"That dumb cat of yours...scratched me!"

Erik freezes. I peek around his shoulder. Those boys just can't stop, can't they? The swarm of teenage hormones must be blocking their lobe of common sense.

"I know who-what-you are, but I don't fear you!"

Mistake #1, boy. Erik tenses even more, growling low in his throat.

"Hey, those are some lovely jewels on that cat." The threat in the teen's voice is obvious.

Erik glares at them through Death's eyes. With a flick of his wrist, the Punjab lasso wraps around the boy's neck, choking him. "You keep away from her!" he bitingly threatens.

The boy is wriggling like a flea caught in a spider's web, his gyrating just makes him more tangled, and he tumbles to the dirt. The others, convinced that this must be the Angel of Death's sorcery, back up in fear, their faces horrified. A whine emerges from the boy's throat, then gurgling. His eyes roll into the back of his head. He will be dead soon.

I don't like this. And I don't like seeing Erik like this. It disturbs me. I don't want him to kill in order to protect me. I now understand where he was last night: he killed his own assassin, but he also has the right to protect himself. Maybe I selfishly don't want this boy's soul in my conscience. Maybe I need to teach Erik to feel guilt.

Maybe that will help push him and Christine together? As much as that hurts to admit, it's worth a shot.

Erik is in that zone, that trance. He's the king of the jungle, his jowls are locked around his prey, and he doesn't plan on losing his meal. I'm not sure how to break his concentration.

"Meow." I try to be soft and demanding, but it does not deter him. I try it again, "Meow."

Nothing.

Stop, Erik. "Meow!" I try meowing louder and harsher.

Nope.

Stop! Please! "Meow! Meow!" Stop! Stop! The boy is turning purple and his movements are beginning to dim. I can hear his pulse is fading.

Determination flares within me. "STOP!" MEOW! Erik jerks, gasping. The noose goes slack, and the boy gasps for breath. Erik is spinning in full circles. "Who said that?" he mumbles.

I clamp my jaw shut. That was my voice. My actual human voice-but how?

A scraggly clearing of the throat catches my attention. My jaw drops against my will. I should have known. The gypsy winks at me before vanishing behind the wall. Erik, oblivious, his chest rising and falling rapidly, remains confused.

He growls animalistically, rapidly approaching the boy. "Go! And pray we never meet again."

The boy, coughing heavily, scrambles up and leaves only a trail of dust. Erik takes a moment, his rampant breaths slow. He turns to me and sighs. "Let's go home."