"Darling?"

Adelyn looked up borededly from her pillow. Though it was nearly noon, she was still in bed reading. At her door was Drew, her fiancé.

"My dear! Are you not up yet? This is ridiculous!" he exclaimed, looking horrified. "Come, up, you sloth."

"I'm tired," she whined, resisting his urges to get her out of bed. "I was up to near two o'clock."

"Doing what, precisely?" His eyes flashed with fury. "I recall that I dropped you off at your room at several minutes after seven."

"I wanted to finish this before I got to sleep," she replied, holding up the thick book she had been engaged in. "But it's so terribly long, and I…"

"Get up. I can't understand why you not only insist on staying in the Paris Opera House, but reading-God knows what-- as well. There is only so much disgrace a man can take, Adelyn DuBois!" He grabbed her roughly by the arm and forced her out of bed.

"I'm not decent!" she cried, stunned by his coarse behavior. She threw her arms across her chest, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. As uninhibited as she was, she still had some notion of propriety.

"I don't care. Get dressed and let's go."

"To where?"

"Don't ask questions, damn you; just do what I say!" He scowled darkly at her, then slammed the door behind him with a bang.

"Picky picky," she muttered irritably, throwing open her trunk and pulling at her clothes. As she did so, she began to hum a song from the latest opera, Don Giovanni. Once she had finished the first aria, she ceased her singing and continued piling through her clothes.

"Do continue, sweet child," Erik murmured through the wall.

Adelyn straightened upwards from her trunk with a start. Unless she was going mad, she had certainly heard a voice. Not just any voice, either. It was a voice which was smooth as silk and incredibly entrancing. And if she was not mistaken, it had come from the wall behind her dresser. Unless... Unless she were hearing things? But no, because it came again.

"Come now, do not be shy. The master of this opera house does enjoy hearing you sing," he said silkily.

"Who are you?" cried Adelyn hotly, her heart pounding in mixed fear and excitement. "Who is there?"

There was a short silence as Erik thought. "It is the Opera Ghost."

"Oh!" sighed Adelyn. "It really is true! There really is a master musician in the catacombs of the opera house!"

"What have you heard?" asked Erik quickly. He had not foreseen this knowledge of his existence.

"I know that there is a man with endless talents who lives beneath the opera house. You once kidnapped one of the sopranos!" Adelyn paused, staring at the wall dreamily. "Who are you?"

"Have I not already told you?"

"But truly, are you ghost or man?" Adelyn crept closer to the source of the voice, until eventually, she climbed atop her dresser and leaned her head against the wall. Then, without warning, she said huskily, "Oh, how your voice does warm my heart!"

"You are lonely, then," said the Opera Ghost softly.

"Beyond everything," she whispered, her soft, curved lips almost touching the wall. "I have no one to talk to."

"Have you not a mother?"

"Oh, yes, I do, but what do mothers know? Just a little more than fathers, I daresay."

"That is someone, is it not?"

"I suppose. But I find my father insufferable, and my mother not much better."

"That is quite unkind," replied Erik, his voice gently reproving.

"Not if you were to know them," giggled Adelyn. Her laughter hung in the air like angel's song. "They are fat as pigs and about as stupid as them!"

"You should not say such things," said the Opera Ghost shortly.

"I apologize," said Adelyn, but she did not sound sorry at all. There was a small silence, and then she added, "Do you not train voices?"

"Only voices which strike me," Erik replied.

"And does mine strike you?" she asked flirtatiously.

There was another short silence before Erik murmured, "It does."

A shudder ran through Adelyn's body. Her heart, though no longer as quick as a bird's, was still pounding in her ears. She knew nothing of the man-- or ghost-- on the other side, only that she longed to see him and know him. Perhaps it was childish foolishness, but the unknown was more intriguing to her than anything-- or anyone-- that she could hold in her hands.

"I want to see you," she cried suddenly, pressing her palms against the wall. "What is your name? Where are you from? Why do you hid in the cellars? Who did you kidnap? Will you teach me to sing? Will you--"

"You have asked too much," said Erik softly. "Goodbye."

"Wait!" shrieked Adelyn childishly. "Don't leave me!"

But there was only silence from the other side of the wall. Realizing that she was once again alone, Adelyn burst into noisy tears. Only a few seconds after these tears had been shed, Drew burst in through the door, looking bewildered.

"Adelyn, my darling, my love! What is this? What grieves you so?" he exclaimed, his arms outstretched. "Come, rest your sweet head against my shoulder and tell me what is the matter."

Now, while Adelyn acted appallingly childish and was terribly spoiled, she had a sharp brain and almost improperly excellent wit for a woman. She also felt no shame when it came to deceit, and lying was barely below her. Upon seeing Drew, she knew that she would have to come up with a sufficient story to ward off his worries. If he were to know about the visit of the Opera Ghost, he would insist they leave right away. So, in accordance with her character, she dramatically threw herself into his arms and sobbed.

"Oh Drew, you're so hateful! I love you so, but you're so hateful towards me! Hurting me with your strength and calling me names and looking upon me indecently, when I am barely clothed--" Adelyn broke into a fresh onslaught of tears and buried her wet face into his velvet jacket.

"Darling, darling! I never meant offense. My poor dear, you are distressed! I am ever so sorry for causing you this grief," moaned Drew, horror-struck at what he had done. While he was incredibly rich and a smart businessman, he had little cunning when it came to women, and the only way he knew how to treat Adelyn was to indulge in her. "Please, dry your lovely cheeks, and cry no longer. I'll do anything if you'd only stop," he pleaded, holding her tight to his chest.

"Well perhaps..." Adelyn sniffled, staring up at Drew contemplatingly. "Perhaps... Drew, dear, would you do something for me to make me terribly happy?"

"Anything for you, my darling," swore Drew passionately.

"Let us stay another week or so than we had planned?" Adelyn smiled cutely, dimples forming in her round cheeks. "I really love it here, but I've hardly had a chance to properly look around-- Can we not stay?"

Drew was even more stunned than when he had first seen Adelyn cry. Stay at the Opera House longer than necessary? This was hardly what he'd had in mind. After all, they were to be married in only another month or so, and he could not risk any rumors that any indecency existed between them. It was not customary for a man to take his fiancé on such a trip, but Adelyn had insisted that before they married that she visit the opera house. After she was a married woman, she said, she would forget opera and never sing again. But she must see the opera house once more, she had said.

And now, she wanted to stay even longer. Adelyn's parents would grow suspicious. True, they had brought several maids to wait upon Lady Adelyn, and those could be considered chaperones, but still, an unmarried woman and man together-It was almost unheard of. But how could he refuse?

"Of course we can, darling," he finally managed to say. "I shall make the necessary arrangements."

* * *

Back in his lair, Erik was sitting at his piano, playing a soft lullaby. Normally, the lullaby would slide out of his fingers without any effort, but he was distracted tonight. After every four measures or so, he found that he would accidentally trip on an unwritten sharp or even forget one. After his fifth mistake, he sighed irritably and pushed himself backwards from the piano, his yellow eyes flashing with agitation.

It was not so much that she was so entrancing as he was lonely. It was more of a matter of that he would like anyone to look upon him with the same fascination Christine once had. And perhaps, perhaps that is why she looks upon me so, thought Erik gloomily. After all, the child did not yet know the extent of his hideousness. Nor did she know that he was a murderer, a thief, and among other things, a monster.

He gently removed his mask unthinkingly, and stared at it in his hand. Without this, she would never think he was the mystical, beautiful voice behind the wall. For a moment, he entertained the thought that she would be kind enough to look beyond his face and see the man within. But no. He had seen enough evidence to prove that she was a mere child, and children were always the hardest to contend with. They only enjoyed what they could feast their eyes on-which would, of course, explain her engagement with Drew. The aristocratic fool had probably showered her with sweet, meaningless compliments, not to mention gifts and jewels beyond all reason. Which brought up another point-Perhaps she really did love the fool. She had never said anything to the contrary.

I must keep my distance, he decided. Talking to her and singing to her will do no harm, but I mustn't grow too close. After all, my love for Christine still burns more than any love for this child can.

With this thought, Erik swooped over his small boat at the edge of the lake, and crossing the lake, decided to visit Nadir. Though the Persian hadn't asked him to call, Erik felt that Nadir needed the company, even if it was his.

* * *