Resuming my way back to the opera house from the carriage, I wandered about the dressing rooms backstage, hoping I could find out more about this mysterious muse of mine.

Despite all of my cajoling and bribes, none of the cast or crew would admit that this was all a ruse or a publicity stunt. In fact, most of them acted as if I were as mad as a bedbug! They had learned their parts well, I'd grant them that, all of them assuring me that he was indeed a horrible murdering ghost who was determined to destroy anyone and anything to achieve his aims of possessing Christine Daae. He was no actor but an ugly sex-crazed maniac who had escaped with the popular soprano into the catacombs down below, undoubtedly to ravish her mercilessly and leave her for dead.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at such melodramatic schoolgirl stories.

My amusement hardened into anger however when the reputed Ballet Master, Madame Antoinette Giry, insisted that I should leave straightaway, that I would meet a bad end if the Phantom found out that I was interfering and asking questions about him. She was a most taciturn and unpleasant woman. And I did not appreciate her interference. I needed help, not lectures.

Strengthening my resolve, I wandered about backstage, trying to come up with some sort of plan amidst the pandemonium. But it was hard to think clearly with all of the craziness going on. The Viscount Raoul de Chagny, who seemed utterly entangled in the dramatic scenario, was running about hither and yon, trying to locate his beloved fiancee, murmuring about keeping his hand at the level of his eyes to avoid death by the Punjab Lasso. As he dashed about the stage of the opera house, searching for a hidden trap door of some kind that would lead to the underground catacombs, I felt sorry for him as he truly seemed to believe in all of the wild stories being spread.

As I neared the wings of the stage, a gendarme grabbed my arm, chastising me sternly.

"Mademoiselle, this is a crime scene; and we have important work to do here! You are just upsetting everyone with all of these foolish questions. I must insist that you go home right this instant."

It was all I could do not to stamp my foot with frustration. Why wouldn't people just leave me alone and let me attend to my business?

Disheartened, I decided that perhaps I should go home. There was no way I would be able to find that man now.

"Mademoiselle?" a high-pitched voice called out to me.

I turned to see a young blonde ballerina dressed in a frilly pink tutu and ballet slippers. She was so tiny and delicate-looking that she could have been a doll. She beckoned me to join her in a nearby dressing room.

"Yes, dear, what is it?"

"I know where the Opera Ghost hides..." she announced proudly with a smile. "If you want to see him, I'll let you come with me. I intend to rescue my friend Christine; and I may need help."

It was on the tip of my tongue to decline her silly offer, but then I gave the matter a second thought. Even though this child obviously had quite an imagination, maybe she could lead me to some clue pointing to his whereabouts. At least she was willing to help me, meager as that assistance was.

Before we started off, she handed me a man's pair of trousers and work shirt, undoubtedly belonging to some stagehand.

"What's this for?" I asked, fingering the sweaty clothes with disgust.

"There's some tricky pathways down there, Mademoiselle, steep and coated with grime. You don't want to ruin that lovely dress."

She had a point.

I was wearing the best dress that I had, a lace-edged pink beaded gown complete with matching fan, which I had purchased for myself from my grandmother's inheritance. Although I was not accustomed to being so extravagant, I had to occasionally go out to see other works as I had tonight. Particularly these days, when I seemed to be so bereft of inspiration for my own opera...

"And besides..." she added. "If he knew that a beautiful young lady such as yourself was looking for him, he'd kidnap you and hold you as prisoner in his dungeon and make you submit to his depraved demands."

Her eyes lit up with a morbid glee which was more than a little disconcerting. Obviously, her young mind had been warped by all of those ghost stories in the dark.

"Wherever did you hear of such nonsense?" I scoffed.

She probably had no idea what was meant by these so-called "depraved demands". Just repeating a lot of gossip from wealthy bored wives who had nothing better to do but make up sordid tales..

"He's probably doing that to Christine now! Making her submit to a fate worse than death!" she stated dramatically. "We have to save her while there's still time!"

I put on the dirty clothes in disgust.

Meg handed me a pair of scuffed-up boots and a dark cap. She put on a similar outfit. The pair of us looked like street urchins. I couldn't help but laugh at the sight of us in the dressing room mirror.

"Well, let's go find this monster, shall we?" I said, immediately ready to set off for my ghost.

Before I could take a step further, she grabbed my wrist.

"One other thing, Mademoiselle," the girl cautioned. "In order to do this, I must have your solemn word that you will not breathe a word of this to anybody!" Then she whispered, "Especially my mother! If she knew of this, I would be sent to bed without any supper for at least a week!"

"Certainly, child. Who is your mother?"

"Madame Giry, the ballet master. My name is Meg."

"Aaahh, I see."

The old dragon who was trying to scare me out of the theater. No wonder this child was so disturbed.

"Your secret is safe with me. Let's go."

Meg led me down a dark passageway beyond the dressing room, only lit by a few candles here and there. We went out a back entrance and underneath a sort of passageway. As we continued to walk, the pathway grew darker and more ominous. Progressively, we began to enter a sort of bizarre maze of tunnels.

"I am so grateful for your help, Meg. I should never be able to navigate my way through this place alone."

It was dark. There was nothing but silence.

"Meg?" I asked fearfully.

No sound.

I whirled about, seeing nothing but pitch black.

And then...a mirror...

I blinked twice at the sight of myself, my hair still perfectly coiffed even as I was dressed in the ratty clothes.

"What on earth?" I whispered to myself.

There was another mirror...and another...

I was surrounded by mirrors. A trap of mirrors with no escape.

My heart was pounding and I was gasping for breath as I began to panic.

"You will meet a bad end, Mademoiselle," the words of Madame Giry reverberated through my mind. "Be wary of angering the Opera Ghost."

"Meg?" I called, begging for the child in the darkness.

And then I heard it...a voice...that voice...

The mournful voice of my elusive muse singing a song of heartbreaking tragedy...

Not knowing what else to do, I tried to work my way through the maze towards the direction of those notes. I could not make out the words, but it seemed he was crying out for someone pitifully.

Nearer and nearer the voice sounded.

"You there?" I rasped out in the darkness. "Help me..."

Then I heard nothing.

But there was light at the end of this tunnel. I seemed to suddenly find myself out of the maze and by an odd looking lake in the bowels of the earth.

"There you are!"

Little Meg jumped up and down at the sight of me. She was standing by the edge of the lake.

"I had given you up for dead!"

I felt as if I would faint from relief at the sight of the simpleton.

"Don't be silly, child!"

Joining her side, we looked across the lake at what looked like a little island in the catacombs. There were candles everywhere, a large pipe organ, a huge swan bed...a home eked out of the murky cold cavern surrounded by an immense black ironed gate.

Meg pointed at the oasis.

"That's where Christine is now, I'll wager," she whispered excitedly. "Come on! We must find her before it's too late!"

"But how are we going to get over there?"

"Swim, you dolt!" she laughed.

"Swim in that!"

I gestured at the murky water that was probably filled with rats and dung and every disgusting thing known to mankind.

"Mademoiselle, a woman's life and honor are at stake," she proclaimed solemnly. "Neatness is not our priority right now!"

"Oh, very well."

The things I had to do for my art!

I just hoped that filthy water wouldn't give me some sort of an uncureable disease.

We dog-paddled across the foul-smelling water to the gate. I panted, feeling very weak since I had not gone swimming since my girlhood days back in Tennessee. With the bravery that only a foolhardy child would have, Meg began to scale the iron-wrought barrier.

"Are you quite sure we should do this?" I asked, hesitantly. "One of us might get hurt. This fellow seems quite fond of setting traps."

I shivered again at the memory of that mirrored maze.

"Oh, I've done this lots and lots. It's simple, really. While the Opera Ghost is busy committing his horrible deeds," her eyes gleamed with delight, "I come down here to his hideaway to look for gold. He must be awfully rich or he never could have survived down here as long as he has."

"But what if you got caught?"

"Oh, he'd probably murder me," she shrugged. "And that would be after he'd torture me for a while. But don't worry. We won't get caught."

I shook my head in bemusement. What had I gotten myself into?

With a grimace and screaming muscles, I started the treacherous climb.

After scaling the gate, we reached a rather large section of the cave that seemed to resemble a sort of music room, complete with a large exotic carpets and that fantastic pipe organ. There were seemingly hundreds of music sheets strewn about the room. Feather quills and spilled ink. All of the mirrors in the room were broken with sharp shards of glass littering the ground. A large naked lifelike doll which resembled Christine. And in the center of the bizarre space was a majestic red chair, resembling a sort of throne.

On that throne was the white mask of the Phantom, glowing out all alone from the darkness.

"Ohhh..." Meg cried out, excitedly, holding the mask up to her face as if she would put it on. "He must be dead by now. Otherwise, this would never be here. He would never take his mask off!"

The white porcelain mask gleamed in her small hands by candlelight. Inexplicably, the sight of the mask overwhelmed me with a feeling of grief. So acute was this emotion that my eyes welled up with tears...for I was beginning to believe...

What kind of life would it be for a man to live down here in this hellish existence, wearing a mask to hide his horrible deformity, longing for a beautiful young girl who would have none of him? To never know happiness or love or sunlight...

Perhaps that's why his music was so powerful. Because he had nothing else...

Meg hid the mask under her large shirt.

"This'll be worth a lot of money someday," she announced proudly.

"What a horrid little scavenger you are!" I snapped, not only feeling horrible for the Phantom, but disappointed for my own sake. What about my opera?

At a loss, I wandered about the caves.

Well, there was nothing for it. My muse had vanished out of my life as quickly as he had come into it.

Shaking my head with frustration, I began to collect the music sheets. Although some of the sheets were too damp and dirty to be legible, I would attempt to deciper them. Perhaps just some of those composed notes would spark my imagination. For a moment, I felt a qualm of guilt for stealing another artist's work. But then I shrugged off those worries. After all, the Phantom wouldn't need them now when he was on the run, would he? That was, if he was even still alive...

"What good will that music do you, Mademoiselle? The swim across the lake will destroy them."

Meg was right.

What could I take the music in?

There was a discarded pipe from the organ, lying on the ground. I rolled up the sheets, stuffing them into the round pipe. Now I needed to seal it. But with what?

"You can use this!" She pointed to a discarded wedding veil on the ground beside the throne. The material was thin, but there was enough of it where I could bunch it together. It wouldn't be perfect, but hopefully, most of the music would survive.

I ripped the veil into two halves, clogging up both ends of the pipe. Even with this half-baked plan, it was going to be no mean feat to swim back across that lake with the heavy pipe. Hopefully, it would float well enough.

While I worked, I considered the disturbing wedding veil and that eerie doll. As much as I admired the man's talent and music, I had to face the truth. Even if all of the events at the Opera were contrived publicity stunts, there was no getting around the fact that the Opera Ghost must have lived here at one time. And he was obviously obsessed to the point of derangement with Christine Daae to create such a vision of her.

Genius also resided with madness...

Of all the luck to have found my muse, my source of inspiration, just to discover that he was rumored to be a rapist, definitely a madman, more than likely a murderer, and appeared to be dead, to boot.