Author's Note: Welcome new readers, and thank you again for the lovely reviews! I hope you enjoy this new chapter.

Chapter Eight: A Wonderful Gift

Erik opened The Art of Ventriloquism and his exercise book, and began to write. His handwriting had been getting smaller and neater, but tonight, distracted by Christine's words, he found himself smudging the ink.

He supposed it was only natural that she thought he should sing for an audience. After all, it was what she did. But the thought of singing in front of other people turned his stomach.

There was a loud knock on the door. "Erik? Are you there?"

Gerard. What on earth did he want at this time of night? Maybe, if he stayed very quiet…

"Erik?"

It was clear that the impresario wasn't going to go away. Erik sighed, and went to answer the door.

Gerard looked a little wild, his face flushed and his eyes shining. He was also smiling, a bright, wide smile that made Erik draw back a step.

"Erik! May I come in?"

"No. I'm busy."

Gerard's smile fell, but only by a small fraction.

"Please? It'll only take a few moments of your time. I have a very exciting proposition for you."

Erik stepped to one side, watching Gerard warily. The impresario looked around the room, his gaze alighting on the small tower of books beside the desk, and the sheets of music pinned to the wall.

"You've got this place looking nice," he observed. "Very cosy."

Erik folded his arms. "What is this about, Gerard?"

"May I sit?" Without waiting for a reply, Gerard sat in the wicker chair. "I was working late tonight, taking care of some business backstage, and I couldn't help overhearing your stunning performance with Miss Daae."

Erik suddenly felt very cold. His arms tightened around his chest. "What of it?"

"I'm still looking for ways to refresh the show for the summer season. I was just thinking that Miss Daae's act might benefit from a duet partner, and then I hear you, the secret singer in our midst! I'd like you to sing with Miss Daae, and perhaps also sing a song or two yourself."

Gerard looked delighted, as if this was the best idea he had ever had.

It took Erik a moment to find the strength to respond.

He didn't want to do it. And furthermore, he didn't have to do it.

"I'm sorry, Gerard," he said, fighting to keep his voice even. "I'm not interested. You'll have to find someone else."

"I'd give you and Miss Daae full control over the musical program. You could sing anything you wanted."

"I'm not interested."

"I'll find better lodgings for you. More comfortable ones."

"I like it here."

"I'll double your salary."

This gave Erik pause. He needed money; there was no question about that. He had been to Petrie's Music and Instruments three times to check that the violin was still there. It was, but he knew it was only a matter of time before someone else bought it. It would still take him nearly two months to save up the money he needed, even if he continued to live on bread, cheese, and the occasional piece of fruit.

His stomach growled. He hoped Gerard couldn't hear it.

If he sang, he would do so on his own terms. He had become a magician in order to break away from domineering showmen, and he would not let his life go back to the way it had been before.

But how he could he sing in front of an audience without falling apart from nerves?

His gaze fell on the open book on his desk. The Art of Ventriloquism. He began to smile. Perhaps magic was the answer.

"Very well," he said. "I'll sing for double my salary."

Gerard grinned. "That's wonderful."

"But I'll only do it under certain, strict conditions."

Gerard's face fell. "Tell me."

"I'll sing one song with Miss Daae, and one song on my own. But the songs need to be incorporated into my act."

The impresario frowned. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I'm a magician, Gerard. I'll only sing if I can perform magic at the same time."

"That would certainly be…novel," said Gerard. "But what about Miss Daae? Can she perform magic?"

"I'll teach her all she needs to know."

"And will I be able to see this…singing magic act? Before you present it? I'd need final say over its suitability."

"Yes. I suppose that's fair." Erik fixed Gerard with his sharpest stare. "Secondly, I'd like a full month's salary in advance."

"But…but…I can barely afford salaries as it is!"

"That's your problem, not mine. An advance on my salary, or I don't sing. The choice is yours."

Gerard mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "You drive a hard bargain."

"Yes. I do. And there's one more thing. I'd like new costumes for Miss Daae and myself. Nothing elaborate, but I have an idea."

"I'm not sure our budget will run to-"

"No costumes, no singing. It's really that simple."

Gerard threw up his hands. "Oh, fine! Fine! I'll speak to the wardrobe mistress."

"Do."

"So we have a deal?"

Erik nodded. "We have a deal."

Gerard smiled. "I can't wait to tell Miss Daae…"

"I will tell Miss Daae, thank you."

"But Erik…"

"I'll speak to her tomorrow. I give you my word. Goodnight, Gerard."

2.

The jingle of the doorbell greeted Erik as he stepped into the shop. He glanced around warily, feeling out of place.

The serious young man was still sitting behind the counter, peering at a musical score through a pair of round spectacles. Erik stepped towards him and coughed softly.

The man looked up. He gave no indication that he was alarmed at the sight of Erik's mask. "Yes? How may I help you?"

"I'd like to purchase that violin there." Erik indicated the instrument on its stand.

The man's face split into a broad, toothy smile. He came out from behind the counter. "Excellent! I've seen you looking at that instrument before. I wondered when you'd come back for it. It's truly a splendid violin. I think sometimes we don't choose our instruments. They choose us, if you know what I mean?"

Erik was somewhat taken aback by this display of musical enthusiasm. "Er…I don't actually play. It's for someone else."

The man was unfazed. "Then you're giving them a wonderful gift. Is it for someone special? Your wife? Your son or daughter, perhaps?"

"No. It's a thank you gift. For my…singing teacher."

"You sing?"

"I try."

The man nodded gravely, as if he understood such trials only too well. "I see, I see. Give me a moment, and I'll get the violin ready for you…"

Five minutes later, Erik left the shop with the violin safely in its case. Even though he couldn't play, being in possession of such an object had a magic of its own. It was a comforting weight in his hand, as if heavy with the music inside it.

He had no doubt Christine would be thrilled.

His next stop was the bakery, where he spent more of his advance on two pies (one meat, one apple), and a loaf of good quality bread.

He headed back to the theatre, violin in one hand and bag of food in the other. He walked buoyantly, humming as he went, his mind full of music and plans for when and how he was going to present the violin to Christine.

"Oi, mister!"

Erik's shoulders tensed. Not now. Not now, when he was so happy.

"Mister!"

The voice belonged to an adolescent boy. He would ignore it. It was always best to ignore such things.

"Why do you wear a mask, mister? Are you very ugly?"

Laughter. There were two of them. Erik did not look back. Instead, he quickened his pace.

"Are you gonna let us see, mister? Come on, let's see!"

Don't look at them. Don't react. Just keep moving…

The missile struck him between the shoulder blades. The pain was small but sharp. Erik whirled around in time to feel another stone whizz past his face, narrowly missing his cheek.

The two teenage boys froze, hands raised high, caught in the act. They stared at Erik in shock, as if they hadn't expected him to turn around, as if they thought their cruelty would be disregarded, forgiven.

And it was this, more than anything, which made Erik's rage boil over. He dropped the shopping and the violin and drew himself up to his full height.

"How dare you?" His voice, harsh with menace, boomed around the street. "How dare you throw stones at me?"

The boys exchanged a quick glance, and promptly scarpered, disappearing into the crowds.

Erik realised that people were staring, and the anger dropped from him like a cloak. The sudden, hot feeling of humiliation brought tears to his eyes. He looked down at the floor, where the violin case lay, spattered with dirt. One of the pies had escaped from the paper bag.

He bent to retrieve his shopping, aware all the time of people giving him a wide berth, as if someone had drawn an invisible circle around him on the cobblestones.

The precious violin was undamaged, well protected by the case. He wasn't so sure about the apple pie.

He was careful to keep his head down as he made his way, shakily, back to the theatre.

3.

Christine stopped playing and turned to look at her student. "Are you quite well?"

"Of course." His tone was brusque. "Why do you ask?"

"You keep singing off-key. It's not like you at all."

"I'm fine. Honestly."

"Perhaps we should stop and come back to this tomorrow. It's fine if you need to rest your voice."

"No. I'd like to carry on."

Christine turned back to the music, and resumed playing. Erik began to sing again, but now she could hear his voice quavering. She looked at him again and saw that his shoulders were shaking.

"Erik? What's the matter?"

He waved one of his long, elegant hands in a gesture of dismissal. "Nothing. Nothing, nothing."

"You're trembling."

He shook his head, his body hitching with what sounded very like a muffled sob.

Christine was stunned. She had seen Erik hurt and defensive, but she had never seen him upset like this. She moved aside, making space on the piano stool. "Come and sit with me."

He stared at her, eyes wary behind the mask, but finally he sat down beside her.

"What's happened?"

He wouldn't meet her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it…You wouldn't understand…"

"Try me."

He gave another shuddering sigh, his shoulders rising and falling beneath his thick coat. "It's just…sometimes I forget that I'm not like other people…and then something happens that serves to remind me of that fact."

"Did something like that happen today?"

He nodded, but said nothing more.

Christine hesitated for a moment, nervous of how he would react. Then, very gently, she stretched out a hand and placed it lightly on his back.

He stiffened, but did not shrug her off. So she let her hand rest there, and they sat in silence as his shudders gradually died down.

"We don't have to sing anymore today," she said, after a few moments had passed. "You go, and we'll start the lesson again tomorrow."

"Can we just…" His voice sounded thick and muffled. "Can we sit here for a while longer?"

"Of course."

Another moment passed. And then: "Some young men wanted to see my face. When I ignored them, they threw stones at me."

This information, delivered in such a flat, matter-of-fact tone, shook Christine to her core.

"Oh, Erik. I'm so sorry."

"I don't need pity." There was no anger in his tone, just weariness. "I'm telling you because I want you to understand that this is what I have to deal with sometimes. And if we're going to appear on stage together…" He trailed off.

"What do you mean?"

"Gerard came to see me last night."

"Oh? What did he want?"

"He wants me to sing with you. In the show." He looked away. "I said yes."

"You said yes?" Christine stared at him in surprise. After everything Erik had said only the day before, she had thought it would be months before she could coax him onto a stage. "That's wonderful! But are you sure?"

He shrugged. "As sure as I can be. But I need to know that you feel…comfortable singing with me. If people start associating you with me, then you might also face some unpleasant reactions."

Christine clenched her fists in sudden anger. "Erik, of course I'll feel comfortable. I can't believe people treat you like this. How dare they? Why, if I'd been there…"

He shook his head, and she was almost sure she saw the corner of his mouth lift in amusement. "No, Christine. No, you wouldn't. But thank you."

Christine folded her arms and pouted, feeling vaguely ridiculous.

She decided it was safer to change the subject. "Erik, I would be delighted to sing with you. But I thought you didn't want to sing for an audience."

"I didn't. But I've agreed to do it under very particular circumstances."

"And what are those?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then, when he finally looked at her again, his eyes were shining.

"Christine, how would you like to learn some magic?"