Our journey must have been an hour or so. At least, that is what it seemed like.

Even after we were finally off of that monster of a horse, the Phantom insisted that I keep wearing the blindfold until we were inside. I could only make out the sensations of wet grass and mud underneath my feet and the cool moist night air as we walked towards his secret hideaway.

There was a creak of a door, a thick carpet under my feet, the warmth and crackle of a fire…

"You may take off the blindfold."

Reaching up to remove it, the first image before me was his face, half hidden by hat and mask.

This was the first time I had seen him clearly in decent light. The uncovered side of his face seemed perfectly proportioned with his pale porcelain skin and midnight black hair. If it had not been for his cruel scowl and flashing eyes, he might have seemed rather handsome. Yet his eyes were mismatched, one blue and one brown. Also, I could see a trace of the misshapen lips from the corner of his mask.

I became aware that he was studying me as intently as I was him.

"What extraordinary eyes..." he said after an interminable silence. "Green eyes…like a cat's..."

I turned away from him, feeling rather shy and skittish for some odd reason.

"And your hair...the way it catches the light...fascinating...blonde, is it, with a tinge of red, I believe?"

His inspection was making me blush. And I didn't like how the conversation was straying so far from the business at hand.

"I pay very little attention to my looks, Monsieur," I replied, trying to sound calm.

"Those with beauty don't have to," he stated simply.

I strived to change the subject before I became any more nervous than I already was.

"I never would have guessed that your new home would be so palatial, Monsieur."

And it truly was.

We were in a large room, which I supposed was meant to be the music room, the size of it so immense that I felt quite swallowed up in it. A multitude of tapestries were hung all about along with many different statues and paintings all about. There was a large pipe organ in the center of the room, obviously the pièce de resistance. And a fireplace with an exotic-looking rug in front of it. I could just imagine lying there, taking in all of that warmth and comfort. But even in all of this majesty, we might as well have been in the catacombs due to the sense of prevailing gloom and loneliness. There were no windows anywhere to be seen, no telling if it was day or night. Peering out the entrance to the music room, I noticed that the next room along the corridor appeared to be a library with hundreds, maybe thousands of books. Obviously, he was a well-read ghost.

I had to admit that I was quite impressed with what I had seen so far. It was a secret world the Phantom had created unto himself.

How had he managed to acquire all of these treasures? And this house? Perhaps Meg Giry had been right about hidden gold.

"The 'phantom' business must be quite lucrative to be able to acquire a home of this size," I gasped.

"I thought we agreed on no prying."

I nodded.

"You're quite right."

"Curiosity of a cat too," he smirked. "Excuse me while I take your valise to the guest room."

Once he disappeared down a side corridor, I wandered around, awestruck.

Upon closer inspection of the tapestries and art objects, some of the images on them were quite shocking. Naked women running from beasts. Lovers entwined. Foreign orgies. All sorts of forbidden fruit. I resolved not to look at them lest I become even a deeper shade of red than I was already.

Again, I felt unnerved as I paced about in the room, wondering if I had made the right decision.

My hips and legs began to groan from that punishing ride on his horse. Seeking relief, I sat down on the organ seat, plush with red cushioning. I caressed the ivory keys lovingly. What workmanship! This was truly a fine instrument for us to create our opera with.

Then I noticed it. A small framed daguerreotype on the organ lid.

I picked it up so that I could see it better in the light.

The woman in the portrait must have been in her early twenties. She was stunning with ivory skin and wide eyes, her dark hair falling in a cascade of curls down her back. She was dressed scandalously in a low-cut Egyptian dancing costume, with a golden bustier and fringed skirt, leaving little to the imagination. I recognized both the woman and costume at once. Christine Daae in the production of Hannibal.

So even now, married and out of his life, she still haunted him...

"Put that back!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of the Phantom's booming voice, placing the picture back down with a resounding bang.

"Mademoiselle DuBois, I must insist that you not pry into my personal things. I find it most discomforting, not to mention rude. Need I remind you that you were the one who set up the rules about our privacy!"

"I'm so sorry," I responded. "Christine's picture was right there on the organ. I could hardly avoid it. Perhaps it might be best if you putit somewhere else."

I peered at him. He had removed his cape and hat. Immaculatley dressed in a dark evening coat, his hair was neatly combed back and groomed. How could one man seem so dashing and so scary at the same time?

"If you want our partnership to be an amiable and long-lasting one, my dear..." he snarled as he cornered me. "You had better understand right now that I do not wish for her name to be mentioned here ever again."

I nodded mutely, thinking it prudent not to provoke him when he seemed to be working himself into a frightful rage.

"Shall I show you to your room, Mademoiselle?"

I nodded silently again, nervously. One minute he was a perfect gentleman, the next he seemed to be a maniac. Oh, Lord, I must have been crazy to agree to stay here with him!

We walked down a dark corridor, his hand lightly holding my elbow.

"I have thrown a few things together in order to create a makeshift guest room. I hope that it pleases you."

The room was beautiful, feminine and frilly. There was a large bed in the center of the room, complete with a white lace coverlet. And there was an armoire, topped with assorted toiletries and another bouquet of red roses. I couldn't explain it, but the room seemed to reek with the presence of another woman. Had he meant for these things to belong to Christine Daae?

Yet she wasn't here and I was.

Was he intending for me to take her place?

I shivered at the thought that perhaps I had unwittingly become his prisoner rather than his partner.

"I realize this room is quite drafty, Mademoiselle. Perhaps we should retire into the music room and work by the fire. Or would you rather retire for the night and start tomorrow?"

"I do think I would be in better form after a night's sleep," I agreed.

The Phantom bowed and began to turn away.

"By the way," I stated. "I suppose we can hardly work closely together and keep referring to each other as 'Mademoiselle' and 'Phantom'. You may address me as Angelica. How should I address you?"

"You may call me Erik."

"Erik."


That night, I startled at every sound, sure that the Phantom would burst into the room and assault me as soon as I had gone to sleep.

I kept a candle lit and my eyes fixed to the bedroom door.

But he never came.

I could not say when I finally drifted into sleep.