We have returned! Part Deux of my story!

As a forward note, Gabrina and Teresa (one of the three betas, also similar to the Three Graces) will be going over the first half of Heart and making it into a physical book in the next few months. Gabrina's website will have details, as will the updates if this story takes that long.

Ghost Shadow

Once again my companion for the night was a ball of hair. After helping Alexandre to bed and answering Madeline's questions in grunts and headshakes, I retired for the night with Bessie, who greeted me with an array of sounds that in her native tongue sounded like ecstasy.

She sat thumping her tail on the ground while I dressed for bed. The first thing I did was remove the wig, and it felt like a blessing to have it off my head. The tension released from my forehead made me sigh. Though I absolutely despised leaving clothes scattered around the room, I removed my cloak and tossed it onto the chair with my shirt, trousers and socks. I was too tired to redress completely and settled for only pajama pants. I saw the dog staring at me and knew that her kicking would cause me to wear a shirt or remove her from the room.

I hadn't seen her in days, I thought, as I buttoned my shirt and lay down in bed.

It was a shame, I thought, as she clawed me in the spine and licked the back of my neck, that some people didn't live for ten years and some dogs didn't live for fifty. Bessie snorted against my ear and pushed me farther across the bed.

"Calm yourself," I whispered. I reached back and tugged on her ear. "You'll be replaced by a woman soon enough."

She growled at me. I wasn't sure if it was because she thought I had insulted her or she didn't appreciate me pulling her ear.

I closed my eyes and sighed. Thank God this night had ended.

Over and over again I envisioned the last kiss I had shared with Julia, the way she had touched my face and not cried out or flinched or run from me. Her compassion, her acceptance, made my lips quiver.

I needed to sleep. Thinking of her was making me too emotional, draining me inside and out. There was nothing as completely debilitating as love. And now it was forbidden love, again.

I hit the mattress with my fist for thinking like a love-sick poet. I didn't need to dote over Julia. We would see each other tomorrow like two civilized adults and have a pleasant conversation. Then I would suggest she accept my offer and marry me.

It would be simple. My eyes grew heavy and I dreamt of the song I would compose for our wedding. A nice song, I thought, no longer the need for a requiem.

A knock at the door woke me. I could have sworn only a moment or two had passed, but when I opened my eyes the sun was shining brightly through the gap in the curtains. Well, hell.

"Are you awake?" Madeline asked.

I turned over and looked at the clock. It was only ten in the morning, which normally would have been ungodly late, but since I hadn't gone to bed until four, it was far too early.

"What do you want?" I grumbled as I sat up.

She took that as an invitation to try the door. Finding it unlocked, she barged in. I wondered what she would do if I slept undressed at night. That would certainly teach her to not enter uninvited.

Madeline looked frazzled. She stood wringing her hands and glancing about the room, carefully avoiding my gaze. "Today I take it to be cleaned but…but…I can't find it." Her eyes scanned the dresser and saw the wig tossed aside. "Oh…."

Normally it would have been on a wig stand or nicely wrapped for cleaning but I had merely tossed it onto the cherry wood desk and forgotten it in my need for sleep.

Her face flushed as she stared at it in complete horror. She wouldn't turn to face me.

"Where's the other one?"

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. "Julia's house."

"It needs to be cleaned."

I wondered if she was more concerned about the payment she would receive for its cleaning or for my personal comfort. With a yawn I rose to my feet. "Take this one," I said with a wave of my hand.

"But you need it."

I yawned again. "I will retrieve the other one from Julia tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Raoul de Chagny is stopping by her house for dinner."

She looked at me, wide-eyed as though I had completely lost my mind.

"What?" I asked.

Madeline turned away. "You should not go over there," she said under her breath.

I crossed my arms and regarded her a moment as she opened one of the drawers in my desk and removed a sheet of brown paper. With great care she placed the wig on top and carefully folded the paper over it. She treated it as she would some fine religious relic.

"He wants Alex to inherit his fortune," I said.

Her reaction made me smirk. Her body straightened and she turned swiftly to stare at me. "Why would he do such a thing?"

Because he's a damned fool, I thought. "Because Alex is Christine's son."

Madeline studied me a moment. She searched my eyes for deceit but found nothing worth arguing about. With the wig folded into the paper, she walked to the bedroom door.

"You would be wise to be careful," Madeline said with her back to me. She took a deep breath and looked at me from the corner of her eye. "I don't want Alexandre to lose his father. I don't…I don't want you…I don't want to worry about you, Erik."

While she spoke I had moved across the room. I stood directly behind her and touched her arm with one hand while holding two twenty-franc notes over her shoulder with the other one. She stared at my hand a moment and reluctantly took the money. Before I pulled away she ran her thumb down my fingers.

"Don't worry. Everything is signed over to you," I whispered.

"Oh, Erik."

"Stop at the bakery," I said before she could finish. "Pick up two—no three croissants on your way home."

She turned and looked at me. "Meg made breakfast."

"I'm sure she did, but with the two of you inheriting my house I would rather not be fed arsenic," I said with a smirk.

She tried her best to glare at me but decided it was easier to turn away. "Welcome home," she said before she walked out the bedroom door.

It hadn't even been a week and still it felt like a month had passed since I had been home. Meg had conveniently left a stack of paperwork for me on the kitchen table. She had placed bread and preserves at my place setting along with bills from the butcher's shop and tailor.

There was no one in the kitchen when I finally came down for the morning. It felt surreal to walk about the house without my mask and hair. For a half-hour I had combed my own thin strands and attempted to make it presentable. Over and over I tried to reassure myself that if Alexandre could accept this beast as his father, the rest of the house could tolerate a gruesome carcass as the benefactor.

Charles and Alexandre had holed themselves up in the study while Meg was humming to herself as she swept out the foyer. I saw her on my way down the stairs but didn't turn.

Meg and I had always had a rather strange way of going about our business without interacting. She only spoke to me when something involved Alexandre, and even then she preferred to keep her distance.

The older dancers had teased her when she first came to the ballet. They had told her that the opera ghost was looking for a little blond child to steal away. She went crying to her mother and said that I would take her away and use her for doll parts. I thought it was amusing but Madeline felt differently. To quell Meg's anxieties and to make an even preposterous claim, I left her a note ensuring her and her mother that one day I would make her Empress. Meg Giry, Empress of France. She was very proud of that unearned title. The dancers talked for weeks.

Meg, of course, came into the kitchen and heard me chuckling as I sifted through a bill for the cobbler. She was careful not to look at me as she pulled off her ring and set it on the counter. She always removed her ring before she prepared to clean the dishes.

Since she was Madeline's daughter, I had generally left Meg alone. She wasn't particularly enjoyable to toy with as she gasped and turned white at the slightest sound. Time and again she swore I had taken her ballet slippers when she was the one who never put them in the same place twice.

Meg took away the challenge and my enjoyment. I sometimes wondered if she laughed as easily as she shrieked.

I stared at her while she did the dishes. I suspected she didn't feel comfortable standing with her back to me as her posture was rigid. It made no difference. It gave me time to think.

I tapped my fingers on the leather cover of my checkbook. If I was going to ask Julia to be my wife I would need a ring to present to her along with all of the reasons why she should agree. I had eight hours to devise a list.

The ring….

"Meg," I said. The word came out harsh. The poor thing jumped and glanced over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being here. In your way."

"Well, to compensate for your burden, tell me what you paid for the gold band."

Meg stared at the ring she had removed. "Charles gave it to me," she stammered.

I sighed. "Well what did he pay for it?"

"He never told me."

My fingers tapped faster. She was irritating me and wasting my time. I still needed to draw up my proposal and decide what I would say to the vicomte's offer.

At my wit's end, I rested my chin in my palm. "Could you estimate?"

She hesitated. "Five thousand francs?"

There were operas that sold for much more than that. I could write one act for an opera and command that amount. "Five thousand?"

She nodded. "Are you….pawning it?"

"No," I replied.

She started to speak again but stopped herself.

"What?" I snapped.

It took her quite some time to muster the courage to speak again. "I was going to say that if you didn't want me to write Christine, I would stop. I saw what she did to Julia's hand and…and I understand."

"Understand what?"

She stammered again. "I don't quite know."

Meg's nerves had the best of her. Despite my irritation, I found her amusing. I rose from the table and took the bread and preserves with me, deciding it was best to leave her alone. Too many years had passed between us and none of them had been good.

Before I walked from the room she spoke again. "I was worried about you," she blurted out.

I paused and turned.

"Is the ring for Julia?" she asked as she leaned against the sink.

"It's been a consideration of mine," I replied.

She simply nodded. I knew she continued to search the right side of my face as though the skin would change but I didn't say anything to her. There was no need. We had finally communicated.

"Do you still want to be Empress?" I questioned.

Meg blushed furiously. "I had forgotten that," she said quietly. A slight smile pulled at her lips. "The older girls mocked me for weeks."

"I know. Why do you think there were always chocolates in your ballet slippers?"

"I could never find my ballet slippers," she said with a slight giggle.

I stared at her for a moment and saw her coyly smile. It was the first time we had ever really spoken at all in nine years and it was strangely tolerable At last I nodded. "They're in the cellar. In a box with several playbills."

Without another word, I went upstairs.