Disclaimer: This is the last disclaimer. I regretfully do NOT own Phantom of the Opera. If I did, I wouldn't need to be writing a fanfic, would I?

andersm: Thanks! Looks like I'm the only one who hates it!

PhantomsHeart: Hehe, my friend Sara/Sorcha wooped for him! Yes, he is a useless fop, but Sara adores him, and he's very cute in the movie…yet NOTHING compared to Erik! As for your hunch…mebbe…shifty-eyed

Countess Alana: Why, thank you, oh kind reviewer! Wow…I really underestimate myself!

XxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx: Thanks! My St. Patrick's Day is rather hectic so far, but it is SO good to be Irish!

Sara (aka Raoul's Secret Lover): HI SORCHA! Indeed, I did not forget the muffins! -gives you a blueberry muffin, Lisa a chocolate chip muffin, and leaves a plate full for all of my readers and reviewers-

I am SO sorry this took so long! I am a pathetic, lazy bum. I will try to do better in the future. Also, yet again I hate this chapter, but that's my low self-esteem talking again, so ignore that and continue reading.

Also, just so you all don't get confused, when Meg calls Nadia "Nadrily" and "Nadri", those are nicknames that will be explained in the next chapter.

Chapter 3 - Of Possessions and Phantoms

"Well done, Nadia!" Mme. Giry wrapped her arms around Nadia for the second time in 10 minutes. "Meg will be so happy to know that you are here to stay! Let's go to the stage and see her, and I can introduce you to everyone as well!" Antoinette led her back through the hallways.

Nadia was happy. No, that wasn't the word; in ecstasy was a better way of putting it. She had just been hired at the famous Paris Opera house! Her luck was great lately. Father had gotten better from pneumonia, Gabe wasn't being such a pest, and she had become a chorus girl at the Opera Populaire! Life was just getting better and better!

She was so absorbed in how amazingly fortunate she was that she didn't notice when they got to the theater's doors. Antoinette slowly pushed them open and extended an arm.

"Welcome, Nadia," she said proudly. "To the Opera Populaire."

The girl was dumbstruck. She slowly walked forward, rapturously drinking in every sight she could. The theater was huge! From where she was the stage and the figures on it seemed small, but Nadia knew it must be enormous as well. Red velvet seats were everywhere, all looking so comfortable, just begging the fabulously wealthy to take a seat in their softness. Balconies up above were the boxes, she supposed, as they had seats in them as well. Golden statues clambered up the walls. Many of them were in such sensuous positions that it made her blush; she wasn't used to such blatant portrayals of intercourse.

But the frosting on the cake was definitely the chandelier. It was colossal, so bright and beautiful shining down on them. Hundreds, maybe thousands of gas-filled globes adorned it, making its golden form shimmer. Nadia stared, open-mouthed again at the wonder and the beauty of this place.

"Well?" Antoinette looked expectantly at the young woman. "What do you think?"

"I…can't put it into words." Nadia stammered. "It's how I imagined it only more...magnificent. Or perfect. Something along the lines of those."

"That's how many feel when they first come here." Antoinette had closed the door, and turned to her to give her a warm smile. "Come, let's go to the stage. They're rehearsing at the moment, but you can still meet some people and look around."

They walked down the long empty aisle, Nadia looking everywhere at once, trying to memorize each crevice and carving. As she looked up, she noticed one of the boxes above her. It had a perfect view of the stage; not too far, yet not too close. She looked away, then glanced back. She could have sworn she'd seen something moving in there. Shivering, she walked a little faster; it felt like she was being watched.

The corps de ballet was rehearsing as they got closer to the stage. "Meg!" Antoinette called. "We have a guest here. Would you like to say hello?"

The small blonde girl turned quickly, to give a polite curtsy, then stopped short. "Wait...Nadia?"

"Meg?" she whispered, barely believing that this was her friend. She looked so much more...mature. But that is how people do look after six years, she supposed.

The two shrieked simultaneously, Meg dashing backstage to get to the doors outside, and Nadia jumping up and down like she was insane (which, indeed, various family members said she was). After a moment or so, Meg burst out from one of the doors that were on either side of the stage.

"Nadia!" she shrieked, wrapping her arms around the brunette. "Oh, Nadrily, I can't believe it's you! It's been forever! Longer than forever! Nadri, I...don't know why you're here. Why are you here, Nadri?" Meg broke apart from her friend, a slightly puzzled expression on her pretty face.

"Take a wild guess." the older girl laughed, swinging the battered suitcase around innocently.

Meg stood open-mouthed for a second, then whispered, "Wait...you can't be a dancer...you aren't the type for a staff job...oh no." She wrapped an arm around Nadia's shoulder. "Nadri...I'm happy that you're here and everything, but...well...let me show you your new...co-workers."

The two went back through the door Meg had came out of and climbed up the wooden stairs. Nadia gasped as they walked through the crowded halls backstage. It was a network of passages and hallways, all crowded with people. The hall led everywhere, from the stables to the roof. Once again, she did a silent scream of ecstasy. But what was Meg looking so sympathetic about?

After a few minutes of fighting their way through the warm, uncomfortably tight place, they reached a door, through which you could hear annoyingly high-pitched giggles. A voice said, or rather slurred, "That stableboy Phillipe wants me to meet him in my room tonight...I guess since Count Javier D'aubigne and his brother are out of town, I'll settle for him tonight."

"Oh, Amiee, I wouldn't be so silly!" a very high-pitched voice protested. "After that Marquis, I won't settle for anything except noble packages." More giggles. Shrieks of delight followed, when the first voice said, "Look at what I stole from the manger's office!" A loud sound of gulping filled the hallways.

Nadia raised an eyebrow. "So? They're drunken whores. Why should I... oh, merde..." she cursed, biting her lip. She glanced at Meg. "They're the other chorus girls, aren't they?" Meg looked at the ground and gave a small nod. Nadia cursed again, glaring at the dressing room door. "Will they harass me, do you think?" she questioned Meg, who was still staring at the floor.

"Probably." Meg sighed, looking sympathetically at her friend. "If you're not a whore, you don't fit in with them. I pity you."

Nadia was silent for a minute, staring at the door. Slowly, a smile came on her face. "Well, if I scare them off, maybe they won't..." she said, half to herself. She raised a hand to the door and knocked.

Inside everything went silent. "Come in." the first voice said tentatively. Nadia opened the door and peeked in. It was a pretty small room, and would be cozy if it were not for the overpowering odor of wine. Chorus girls were everywhere: lounging on the floor, draped over chairs, sitting on the table. All of them were staring at her.

She gave a timid smile. "Oh, um...hello...I'm Nadia Laurent. I'm new." All at once she was surrounded by a crowd of the girls, all welcoming and complimenting her. "Hello! You'll definitely love it here!" "I love your dress...we'll help you work on your hair!" "You'll have a lot of fun here if you put your "mind" to it."

Soon she was seated, and everyone was staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to start a conversation. Meg had edged her way in, and was leaning against a door, silently begging her to end the welcome party and get out.

"Um, before we start working together, and sharing a dressing room and stuff, I just need to warn you about something." Nadia looked around gravely. "I get possessed by the devil at times."

The room was silent, except for Meg masking a giggle with a cough. The girl Amiee raised an eyebrow. Did you just say you get-"

Nadia cut her short. She grabbed her own neck with one hand, her eyes rolled back into her head, her tongue was sticking out, and she was hacking and wheezing. All the chorus girls shrieked, and Meg was laughing so hard she was crying, unheard in all the noise.

It finally ended, the chorus girls as far away from Nadia as possible. Nadia smoothed her dress out demurely. "Well, that was a good example." she smiled at the shaking girls. "I must be off, now...I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow!" She pretended to twitch, and they all drew back. With that, she left.

"Oh my God, Nadri, that was priceless! What made you think of it?" Meg collapsed in laughter, leaning against the wall for support. "I got it from a friend. She go a crick in her neck one day, and she looked like that. It was hilarious, yet incredibly odd-looking. So I used it on those morons." The older girl put the stray hairs behind her ears. "So...is there anywhere for me to put my bag? I want to look around, and I don't want to lug it around the whole opera house."

"Did the managers assign you a room?" Meg said breathlessly, straightening the leotard and skirt she wore for ballet practice. Nadia shook her head. "Alright, that means you can pick your own...let's see...where's there a spare room?" Meg stood in thought for a few minutes. Nadia, tired of her hair getting in her way, let it loose to redo it. The long wavy locks fell down to her lower back; a fact that Nadia was proud of, but it was rather a hassle to comb and wash.

"I got it!" Meg said trumphantly, grabbing Nadia's hand and dragging her down the hall and up a flight of stairs. They arrived in a quiet, narrow hallway, with only a few doors. Meg brought her to the very end and opened the last door with a key from her pocket. "These are all rooms no one uses anymore." she explained as she turned the key in the lock. "You'll see why in a moment."

The room was nothing special. It had a white bed at one end, a desk at the other, and a full-length mirror against the wall directly opposite from the bed. Nadia walked in and dropped her bag on the bed. "Well...it's small, but it's nice." she said curiously, glancing around. "Why doesn't anyone use these rooms anymore?"

Meg rose her eyebrows in surprise. "I thought you would've guessed! Nadia, this is Christine's old room, from before she substituted for Carlotta."

Nadia was silent. Christine was a friend of hers, from childhood, and she still kept contact with her. She had seen her in the spring, and babysat their baby girl Leala for her and her husband Raoul. Christine had told her every detail about the Phantom and her lessons with him. She knew that he had spoken to her through her mirror. She stared at the mirror, which now instead of seeming like a nice decoration, seemed almost menacing.

"Meg...what about the Opera Ghost?" she questioned in a low voice. "What if..." "Oh, Nadia, he's dead, everyone knows that! Even Mother admits it!" Meg pulled her friend's arm. "Now come on! I'll give you the grand tour. No one knows this place better than me." With that they left.

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Erik, of course, had seen the entire thing. In fact, he had been following the girls since Meg practically leaped off the stage to see her friend. He'd been watching through the mirror when Nadia showed her fear of him. He smiled slightly. He'd found the solution to his problem.

He was about to return home when he stopped himself. The girl had no reason to just accept his request to deliver his messages. She could refuse, or leave. That would be a lose-lose situation. He didn't think threats would work too well, either. She could easily leave, or dismiss it. But he knew that this girl was the kind of person he needed. How could he convince her?

Slowly, his chracteristic smirk spread across his face. He strolled down the passageway to his lair, an idea forming in his cunning mind.

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Nadia had had an exciting, fast-paced day. She had met the ballerinas, who were nice but rather superficial, the seamstresses, who were very kind and jolly, and the stableboys, who had spent a bit too much time staring below her and Meg's necks. Carlotta Guidacelli, the lead soprano, and Eleanora Bianchi, the lead mezzo, didn't spare her a passing glance, but Chantal Laroque, the lead alto who she had met before, welcomed her warmly. Chantal had made her promise to come to her if she had any problems with anything.

The woman collapsed on her bed, wincing as she twisted her back in an odd position. She opened her bag, taking out her nightgown, a silky blue robe, and a hairbrush. She sighed as she sniffed the slight smell of roses that her hair always left on the brush. The smell reminded her of the garden her mother tended at home. She shook her head, quickly got changed into the nightgown, and slipped into the robe.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at herself inthe ornate mirror. Letting her hair loose around her shoulders, she shivered. She'd just felt a cold breeze, which was odd, because the one small window in her room was cold. She shook her head. "Nadia, don't let all that nonsense about that madman get to you." she chided herself as she ran the comb through her dark tresses. "It'll drive you insane. Or more than you are..."

She finished quickly and hopped up from the bed. She felt energy pouring through her. "That cake after dinner must have been loaded with sugar." she thought, glancing at her shining eyes in the mirror. She sat back down, trying to force herself to be tired. Then it hit her: whenever she sang, it calmed her down. Slowly she started to sing a song that she'd heard Christine sing once when she thought she was alone.

Angel of music, guiding guardian,
Grant to me your glory...
Angel of music, hide no longer,
Secret and strange angel...

All of a sudden, she heard a loud bang from the room next to hers. She jumped up, about to run and see if the room's occupant was all right, but stopped herself. There were no other occupants in this hallway; no one used it anymore. So who could it be?

Once again, she shook her head, trying to banish her fears, but as she turned to slip into her bed, she heard a creak, as if a door opening, and then a slight snap. Trembling, she turned around to face the mirror, praying that it wasn't who she thought it was...

A tall man stood there, his presence itself imposing. His clothes were those of someone at least comfortable in the sense of money; a glance at the silken cravat and expensive leather gloves told her that. But the thing that instantly caught her eye was the mask that covered the right side of his face. It was white, made out of porcelain, and contrasted with his slicked-back black hair. His visible eyebrow raised, and he gave her a slight smirk, that would've been charming if it wasn't so menacing. He gave an elaborate bow.

"Welcome, Mademoiselle Laurent." he said in a low voice. "I'm quite glad to meet you."