Awww... Y'all've been spoilin' me! "Y'all've?" Is that a word? Sheesh, I'll never understand American slang. Anyways, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I love reviews! Here's the new chapter. I think you'll all like this one. It's not an edge-of-your-seat thriller, but we meet some new characters in this chapter, and it has a few humourous moments. So here it is!

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"Here we are," Christine announced, bringing the carriage to a stop in front of a dingy-looking theatre. "La Soleil Rouge!"

It had been three weeks since that night when Erik arrived at her doorstep. Erik's lessons continued, and neither he nor Christine ever mentioned again what had happened between them that day. Now Christine felt that Erik was ready to audition for a position at a theatre. La Soleil Rouge was not grand, but it was about as far away from Paris as possible, which was a good thing. The Phantom of the Opera was infamous in Paris, and the last thing Erik needed was someone recognizing him.

"Now, Erik," Christine turned to him. "Who are you?"

"I am Erik Giry… I'm from Paris… I'm a war veteran."

"And who is Madame Giry to you?"

"She is my aunt… my father's sister."

"And who are your parents?"

"Richard and Rachel Giry… both deceased…"

"And who am I?"

"A friend of the family…"

"Good. Just remember all that and you'll be fine."

"Christine, I'm not so sure about this…"

"Oh, you'll be fine!"

Taking his hand, Christine led him inside the theatre. Monsieur Lachappelle, a short man in a rumpled suit, was alone inside the auditorium. He sat on a stool, writing in a little black book. He looked up when Christine entered with Erik, and scowled.

"There is no play today!" he snapped.

"We're not here for a play!" Christine said coldly.

"Figures…" Lachappelle muttered under his breath.

"We're here for an audition," Christine informed him.

"Ah… I see… Have you ever been involved in theatre before, mademoiselle?"

"Actually, I'm not the one who's auditioning," Christine glanced up at Erik. "He is."

"He is?" Lachappelle eyed Erik dubiously.

"Yes. He is."

Lachappelle sized Erik up. He noticed how Erik didn't meet his gaze. That mask was curious as well.

"What's wrong with him?" Lachappelle asked Christine, as if Erik weren't even there.

"Monsieur Erik Giry was once a soldier in the French army," Christine explained. "An unfortunate accident during battle left him blinded and scarred. See? He wears that mask to cover his wounds. But, never mind that. I assure you, you will not hear a more angelic voice than that of Monsieur Giry's."

Lachappelle cocked his head and examined Erik more closely. "War hero, eh? Might appeal to the female faction. They do dote so on tragedy."

"Quite so," Christine agreed. "And it is said that Monsieur Giry is quite the charmer!"

It was all Erik could do to keep from sneering.

"Very well," Lachappelle said. "Let's see what he has."

Christine led Erik up to the stage. It was small compared to that of the Opera Populaire, but it would do well, she was sure.

"Christine…" Erik reached for her hand. His voice sounded desperate.

"You will do fine… Don't be nervous…"

"I am not nervous!" he muttered under his breath, indignantly. He took in a few deep breaths and began. "Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendour. Grasp it. Sense it. Tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light and listen to the Music of the–"

"Ooooooo! Papa!" came a girlish squeal. A young girl with lovely red locks and green eyes, about fourteen years old, leapt onto the stage beside Erik. "Who is this remarkable gentleman!"

"Amarie!" Lachappelle squawked. "I'm in the middle of an audition!" He sighed heavily. "This is Monsieur Erik Giry, the war hero from Paris."

"Oh, a war hero! How tragic! How do you do, Monsieur Erik?" she asked, holding out her hand for him to kiss.

Erik, not seeing her hand, merely said, "Very well, mademoiselle." It was plain to Christine that Erik was not comfortable with this girl, and that he didn't take too kindly to her interrupting him in the middle of his audition. He did, after all, want to impress the manager, and he could not do so very well with the man's daughter drooling all over his shoes.

"Do you not kiss the hand in Paris?" she asked, quite perturbed that he had not taken her hand yet.

Erik looked thoroughly confused. "Pardon?"

"Why does Monsieur not look me in the eye? Oh, I understand fully! Monsieur le war hero is simply shy around pretty young girls!" Amarie clung to Erik's arm. "Do not despair! We shall become the best of friends!"

"I'm afraid you don't quite understand, Amarie," Christine smiled gently. "Monsieur did not kiss your hand simply because he could not see it. He does not look at you because he lost his sight in battle."

"Blind?" she gasped. "Oh, poor unfortunate Monsieur! How tragic!"

"My daughter is quite the romantic," Lachappelle explained to Christine. "Her instincts are rarely mistaken. What do you think, Amie?" he asked his daughter. "Will Monsieur Giry make a fine addition to our theatre?"

"Oh, oui!" she exclaimed without hesitation. She still clung to Erik's arm and gazed up at him adoringly.

"It's settled then. Welcome aboard, Monsieur!" Lachappelle said grandly. "We will meet later to discuss the terms of your contract." Christine helped Erik down from the stage, gently pulling him away from Amarie.

"How old was that woman who was so effectively cutting off the blood-flow to my arm?" Erik muttered to her.

"Hardly a woman. She appeared about fourteen."

"Wonderful," he said sarcastically. "My new 'best friend' is a mere child!"

"She was quite smitten with you!" Christine teased him.

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?"

Christine smiled at him. "Every young girl falls in love at some point during their blossoming… So Amarie has taken a fancy to you. How terrible could it be? Just remember… you're a war hero. People admire you." She paused. "Or… I suppose if you really don't want to go through with this, we could always take you back to Paris and you can go back to living all alone under the Opera Populaire…"

Erik grunted. "I suppose I… could give this new… position… a chance, perhaps? As long as that child will allow me some room to breath! I do require some solitude, you know."

"Just try not to break her heart…" It was meant as a joke, but Erik detected a twinge of pain in her tone.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Then Christine rushed forward and hugged him. "You will thrive here. I know." Erik held her embrace momentarily. Then she pulled away from him. He reached out to touch her cheek.

"Thank you, Christine… for everything…" Erik pulled his hand away from her face. Her cheek… it was wet.

"Christine? Are you crying?"

"I must go!" Christine said in a choked sob. He heard a swish of her skirts as she turned away from him. Her boots echoed off of the stone floors. They stopped a few yards away. "Good luck, Erik…" Christine's voice was small and childlike. Then her footsteps disappeared into nothingness.

Erik couldn't understand. Why was she so upset? Fear wrenched at his heart. The same kind of fear that had possessed him that last time Christine had left him. He didn't know why, but something in his heart told him that it would be a long time before he ever saw her again…

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DUN DUN DUN! Anybody else catch a little bit of foreboding in this chapter? Keep reading! Oh, isn't Amarie cute? I hope you all like her. She's going to be hanging around for the next little while. Maybe she'll get less annoying...