I don't own the Phantom of the Opera.

Many times since that night I have been asked to describe him. What did he look like? What did he sound like? But there are many people who could answer those questions. Scores of people will tell you they've caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of their eyes, or have heard his voice come out of thin air.

The question to ask me, I assure you, is what did he smell like? Christine Daaé could tell you, but she fled soon after the incident. And I know of no one else who has gotten close to him and lived to tell about it. The answer is: he smelled like death.

No, not like decaying flesh, as one might assume death smells like. It is not his death he smelled of, but yours. He smelled of cold dampness that brings a tomb to mind, and with it the assumption that he is going to put you in one.

But that makes little sense, does it? I suppose I have read too many silly romance novels for his choice of costume not to affect me in some way. After all, who's ever heard of someone smelling like death?

"Why have you been following me, Mademoiselle?"

His voice jerked Aurelie out of her daze. Whatever his hand looked like, it wasn't possible to imagine a less skeleton-like voice.

Cured of her fears that he really was Red Death incarnate, Aurelie could breathe again. She pasted a smile on her face and replied, "I declare, Monsieur, I don't know what you're talking about. I was on my way to greet someone I know."

His fingers tightened around her wrist. Leaning closer, he hissed, "You lie."

Aurelie hesitated, but when his stare didn't waver she sighed and allowed her too-bright smile to slide off her face. "I was trying to get you to notice me, so you'd ask me to dance," she said reluctantly.

He laughed disbelievingly, "You want to…dance with me?"

Aurelie didn't care for the scorn and contempt in his voice. She raised her chin. "Yes, I wanted to dance with you."

"Don't you know who I am?" For some reason, Aurelie got the impression that he expected her to.

She studied his masked face in more detail. "I don't…think so." She eyed his hat doubtfully. "Erm, Red Death?"

He dropped her wrist with a mutter that sounded like "foolish child" and turned around.

Aurelie cried, "Wait!" Several people turned to look at her, but the scarlet man didn't stop. She sped off after him.

Gaining a spot by his side, she said again, "Wait."

He stopped abruptly. "What do you want?"

Aurelie thought he sounded very mad. She met his eyes squarely though; there was nothing he could do to her in the crowd. "Well, I got you to notice me, so are you going to ask me to dance?"

"No," he said shortly, and started walking again.

"Fine," she said, grabbing his sleeve, "I'll do it myself." He spun around, looking far from amused, menacing even—if that was possible for someone in a plumed hat. She smiled pertly at him. "Will you dance with me?" she asked.

He stared at her, eyes narrowing behind his mask. Aurelie didn't so much as twitch, just gave him a look that she hoped said: I won't give up.

In response he growled, "You have no idea who you are dealing with, Mademoiselle."

"We've already established that, Monsieur," she reminded him. "Now, your answer?"

Another pause as he stared at her some more. Then slowly, as if he didn't believe what he was doing, he offered her his arm. "One dance," he said. "That's it. Then you leave me alone."

Aurelie beamed at him. He glared back. "One dance won't kill you," she informed him as she laid her hand on his arm.

"But it might prove fatal for you," he said, leading her to the dance floor.

"Threats, Monsieur?" she said lightly. "Most ungentlemanly of you."

They reached the dance floor. She turned to face him, and they began to dance. His movements were surprisingly hesitant, though his glare didn't waver.

"Maybe they're not just threats," he said finally. "How do you know I'm a gentleman?"

Aurelie smiled up at him as they whirled about the floor. "I don't. So far, the only identity we've established for you is Red Death."

"That is enough to keep most people away."

"Ah, but you've failed to take into account my costume."

He looked down at her costume. "Someone from Greek legends, I see. Let me guess, Aphrodite, who fears no one because she can make them fall in love with her?"

Aurelie laughed delightedly. "You show your opinion of me, Monsieur! No, I don't plan to seduce Red Death anytime soon. Besides, Carlotta snatched that costume early. Try again."

Her sally didn't lift his glare. If anything, it became fiercer. "I don't play games, Mademoiselle."

"I'd never have guessed," she said dryly. "Come on, one more guess."

He was starting to look more irritated than angry now. A good thing, Aurelie supposed. His tone was equally dry as he replied, "Very well. Then it must be Athena, because you're certainly not afraid of battles."

"Such flattery! But wrong again, Monsieur," she taunted him. "Shall I just tell you?"

"I'm not sure I could prevent you from doing so."

"Very perceptive of you," she said. Then in a mock-whisper, she announced, "I'm Persephone."

"Persephone?" he said. "I fail to see how that should make you less afraid of Red Death, unless you're equating me with Hades."

She sniffed, "Anything but. I'm not marrying you, Monsieur. But as Queen of the Underworld I'd hardly have to fear Death would I?"

Aurelie chalked his silence up as a victory on her part.

They danced a little more in silence. Then Aurelie caught sight of Celeste off to the side, standing by the wall. Aurelie managed to catch her friend's eye. Celeste was staring at them in astonishment, her eyes almost popping out of her head. Aurelie grinned.

"What is so amusing, Mademoiselle?" Her dance partner's voice brought Aurelie's glance back up to his.

"I just caught sight of my friend."

He turned them around and spotted Celeste. "She seems very surprised."

"Well she didn't think I'd get you to dance with me."

He scowled. "She was part of your mad scheme?" He was back to glaring. Did everything make him angry, Aurelie wondered. She couldn't resist goading him a little more.

"She was part of the cause of it, since you ask," she said innocently.

He eyed her suspiciously. "In what way?"

"We had a bet that I couldn't get a dance partner."

"I'm part of a bet?" He sounded astonished and angry.

Just then the music came to an end. Aurelie stepped back and gave him a brief curtsy. "Yes, a bet. I thank you, Monsieur for helping me win it." She grinned at him. "Now you may go back to finding whatever you were searching for."

As Aurelie had hoped, that comment had distracted him from his anger towards her. As she turned and walked away from him, she could see him intently scanning the crowd. She walked back to Celeste. "I believe those gloves are mine now," she informed her friend.

Astonishing isn't it? That I could bait the Phantom so, and survive.

And how do I know it was the Phantom? Because the next night I found a note on my pillow. It read:

Mademoiselle,

Truly you didn't know who you were dealing with, which is why I do not show my displeasure. But, as I did help you win your bet, I believe half of the prize is mine. Be more careful of the bets you make in the future.

Your obedient servant,

O.G.

One of Celeste's gloves was missing.

Fin

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You are all too kind. I hope you enjoyed this story!