I took a deep breath. I had to keep a cool head, above all else.

"Please explain yourself, sir!" I demanded of Monsieur Deveraux.

"Well, it seems that a few days ago, some girls from the ballet claim that they spotted you last week leaving a boutique. A mysterious carriage that seemed to appear out of nowhere came by to retrieve you. One of the girls, little Meg Giry, I think, claims that she could have sworn the driver of the carriage was wearing a white mask very similar to the Phantom of the Opera's mask. And he seemed to be going to great effort to hide his face underneath the hood of his cloak."

Damn! I knew that we should not have taken so many trips out and about Paris!

And how dare that morbid little scamp cause all of this trouble?

"Well, those silly ballet misses are known for all of their little ghost tales," I scoffed.

"Yes, but Meg told an interesting story. She recognized you and recalled that you had accompanied her to his lair to find Christine. And she had his mask to prove that you had been there. She remembered that you had been most interested in this Phantom. I also recall such interest from you as well the night of his opera. Really, Mademoiselle, it was most foolhardy of you to deceive me in such a way and risk your life so, despite how taken you may have been with his composition!"

"Are you my guardian, Monsieur?"

"Indeed not."

"Then I would be much obliged if you did not lecture me as if you were," I snapped.

"My apologies." He bowed, although I was irritated as I sensed that he was not truly sorry at all.

"However, I feel it my duty to tell you," he continued, "that you are at the center of a storm of gossip and speculation. Your supposed sighting with the Phantom combined with Christine's return has stirred up quite a bit of talk. Some believe that the Phantom is the true author of this opera; and that you have been either blackmailed or bribed to be his accomplice..."

"What nonsense!" I raged. "Don't people have anything better to do than to make up such lies about me? Really, if these girls worked more on their art than on wagging their tongues, they'd be much better dancers."

"So you deny any association with this man?"

"Absolutely," I lied without hesitation. My reputation was on the line. And, even worse, Erik's life was at stake. I not only had to deny everything, but I had to use all of my acting skills to convince Deveraux I was completely innocent.

"While you seem to be getting all of the attention as the writer of this opera, on account of your sex, there is another author's name listed on the manuscript. He is not your mysterious co-author?"

"I resent your interrogating me as if I were on trial, Monsieur!" I snapped.

"My apologies again."

Still, out of fear for Erik's safety, I proceeded to tell another bald-faced lie.

"My co-author is working under a pseudonym. He is a very elderly and ill man who cannot go out in public much due to his heart. Under such circumstances, he prefers his privacy. If you like, I can acquire documentation for you as proof..."

"No, mademoiselle, it is not necessary," Deveraux said with a wave of his hand.

I was relieved for there was no way I could show him documentation without resorting to fraud and forgery as well.

Once I started lying, I couldn't seem to stop.

"As for that coachman, it was a hired coach that picked me up from the shop. Perhaps it was the Phantom driving the carriage, for all I know. But I had assumed he was merely a coachman by trade. And I never saw a mask at all…"

"So it seems that you are also his prey. I am so relieved that you are not a party to his madness," he continued. "Can you ever forgive me for believing such wild stories?"

"Well, I am disappointed in you, Monsieur."

He kissed my hand again.

"I shall make it up to you at the Gala by being the most attentive suitor you could wish for."

Wonderful, I thought sarcastically. And then I became horribly uncomfortable by the way he was looking at me as if dreaming about kissing me. Why, the very idea was laughable.

"You are so certain that this Phantom is going to try something?" I asked, attempting to distract him.

His eyes lit up with enthusiasm.

"Yes! Although I do not wish to frighten Christine, I have no doubt that he is planning another abduction."

"Really?"

"You see, since I have been watching over Christine, I have heard much about the Phantom. And he is a most fascinating criminal. I have researched his past deeds most thoroughly. In fact, I am considering the idea of writing an accounting of the whole affair."

Just what the world needs. Another book about the Phantom of the Opera, I thought glumly.

"Now many similar events are occurring with this opera; and I don't think it is mere coincidence. Take Carlotta, for instance. She had taken a sudden unexplainable turn for the worse just like she had during that performance of Il Muto. And the management is acting very suspiciously as well. They never agree to perform an opera without months of serious consideration. Only on one occasion have they ever done so."

"Don Juan Triumphant," I replied with ill ease.

"Exactly! You see the pattern too! I had tried so hard to persuade Raoul not to allow Christine to take part in this opera. That she is walking right into the monster's clutches again. But there is no arguing with that stubborn woman when she sets her mind to something."

"Well, perhaps Christine is an artist and a woman of common sense who does not buy into all of this nonsense."

"Mademoiselle...please understand. Your opera is brilliant and Christine is magnificent in it. I am so sorry that the Phantom has used your artistic endeavors to manipulate the situation as a means to an end. But it seems as if both of your lives are at stake. Still you needn't worry too much as you shall be protected…"

"What do you mean?"

"Raoul and I fully expect for him to appear on opening night. When he does, we shall be ready for him. There will be double the amount of police this time. And they will be posted at all of his rumored hideouts in the theater. He shall be apprehended and caged up like the animal he is."

I remembered Erik's nightmare about a cage and felt sick. Thinking of him unmasked and laughed at and whipped brought tears to my eyes.

"Oh, I am so sorry to have distressed you! Truly, you need not fear…we will not allow that monster to…"

"It is not that, Monsieur, but that my opera has indeed turned into the spectacle that I had been afraid of all along," I excused. "Please, I must go home now. I am quite distraught!"

"But, Mademoiselle, what about the gala?"

"I shall send you a note!" I called out as I escaped his presence and hid myself among the shops of Paris.


Lying down in our bedroom, I rubbed my forehead with distraction.

I had yet to tell Erik about my conversation with Deveraux. He had seemed in such a pleasant mood all day that I could not bring myself to do it. I begged off with a headache as soon as we came home.

I had a sort of foreboding about Beauty and the Beast now. Even though this was the work I had created, I was afraid of it. I would always love the piece for what it was meant to be, a beautiful love story surpassing the ages. But the reality was that it was being used as an excuse for the gossipmongers to have fresh kill to feed off of. And even worse, it was now also a trap to take my husband away from me forever.

I would die before I would let that happen. Erik had only become involved with the opera because I had asked him to. And now I had unwittingly become part of his destruction. And I felt sick at the thought of ever hurting him in any way…because I knew now that I loved him.

For some time, I was unsure if I truly loved him or not, as the only other person in my life I had loved was my father. But everything I had read of…everything that I heard of about love…was how I felt for Erik.

We had never spoken of such. I did not know if Erik even felt the same way about me. But he seemed to need me, enjoyed my company and definitely desired me. I was too afraid to tell him I loved him. I did not want to know if his heart could not feel the same. But he was my husband…well, nearly so in every way. And we were happy with each other. That was enough.

And I knew that I must not attend either the gala or the opera. Perhaps if I stayed away, so would Erik.

I let out a sigh of dismay.

Why couldn't they have just left us alone?

And this was only a taste of what Erik must have been through all of his life. Always being hunted down…always on the run. He was a prize to be caught and caged and humiliated. Or he was a fiend to be feared and abhorred. What a sad lonely existence...

I jumped as a pair of hands rubbed my bare feet.

"I apologize, my dear. I did not mean to startle you. You seemed rather upset..."

I could not help but feel better at the sight of my husband in his silk dressing gown.

"I'm better now that you're here..."

I held out my arms, beckoning for him to join me on the bed. Once I was safely in his embrace, I felt less morose. This was what was real...not all of that horrid Phantom business.

"What is wrong, sweet?" he asked, stroking my hair.

"I miss you..."

"But I'm right here!" he laughed.

"Yes. I'm so silly, aren't I?"

Since our "marriage", he no longer wore his nightshirt underneath as he always seemed to be uncomfortable in it. I took shameless advantage of the fact by running my hands underneath his robe, along his bare chest and shoulders and back. Overcome with sudden passion, I kissed him urgently as I began to untie the sash of his robe.

"What's this?" Erik teased. "My blushing bride has become a tigress!"

"Does that displease you?"

"Does this feel like displeasure to you, madam?" He took my hand and guided it lower along his body.

I smiled slowly with satisfaction before taking off my own robe.

This time, it was his turn to writhe and thrash about as I kissed every inch of his naked body.

As we made love, I just wanted to lose myself in his flesh, in the smell and the feel and the taste of him. I wanted to be like this forever.

If only it could be...