Ugh. What a day! But I always have time for you guys! Here is a nice, long chapter to compensate for my previously short, cruddy one.

Ch. 8: New Year's Eve

Andre and Firmin strutted through the grand hall in a most peacock-like manner. They were both garbed in garishly colorful costumes, each on the arm of a beautiful girl of which they did not know the name. It was currently New Year's Eve, and all of Paris was clamoring for them, the hosts of the party of the season. Although it was bitter cold outside, the interior of the building was warm and cheerful, heated by light spirits and many bottles of liquor. All were adorned in lovely costumes, buzzing about the crowds of their fellow crème de la crème. Tonight was for celebrating, and celebrated, and celebrate they shall.

The guests swirled about in a most peculiar manner, dancing to a strange waltz. They hid behind their masks, each savoring the capricious, childlike atmosphere. As the men led their dates through the throng, they greeted familiar faces and laughed loudly to half-baked jokes. Both of the men were very powerful figures in Paris, yet they didn't hesitate to kiss the wrinkled buttocks of any of those richer than they.

Among the waltzing multitude, Chris led an ornately decked Riley to the center of the dance floor. He was dressed as an angel, Riley also one. Together, they made a perfect pair of flirting smiles, white fabric, and sequins. Riley had fully recovered from her torso slash, all thoughts of the phantom far behind her. Chris, on the other hand, was edgy. Every sight of a mask seemed to frighten him, and he would visibly jump when a masked girl would ask Riley if she could cut in. Riley had to keep a watchful eye on Chris, for many girls who looked as if they belonged in a brothel came up to him, asking for dances, champagne, and other thinks which I cannot possibly repeat. Finally, she just snatched him from the dance and led him to the balcony.

Putting her hand on the small of his back, the girl grinned inwardly as Chris let out a silent gasp. Although he was nineteen years old, he acted more like a child than a man. Riley brushed a piece of confetti from behind his ear, looking into his forget-me-not blue eyes. Not caring whether or not her brother saw, she kissed him, fireworks coinciding with their meet. A number of the masked dancers stopped their motion, staring at the spectacle. It was not everyday that one of the most powerful women in Paris was caught making out with a lowly chorus boy. The gossipy old ladies would simply have an embolism.

Riley tore herself away from the embrace, slamming the door in the nosy onlooker's faces. She took both of Chris's hands in hers, her cheeks rosy with excitement. Slowly, she pulled a golden chain from her cleavage. Chris held a look of utter shock and surprise. His lover removed the jewelry, fastening it behind his neck tenderly. " Chris," she breathed, " Will you marry me?"

The boy sputtered rudely in spite of himself. He would have said yes to this unorthodox proposal in a heartbeat, but there was that horrible detail nagging at the back of his mind. " You know we can't do that, Riley." He said quietly, not looking at her. " You are high society, I am a common opera singer/ sexy dancer. It could never be true."

A/N: he did not say the sexy dancer part. I wrote that for kicks!

Riley's smile faded a bit, but she perked up in a microsecond. " We don't really have to be married!" she cried, her eyes sparkling like a little girls. " It- it could be a secret. A secret engagement!" Chris fingered the necklace thoughtfully. The idea sounded rather exciting to him. " Alright. I humbly accept your proposal, Vicomtess Riangiana de Chagney!" Riley cried aloud, taking Chris in a rib-crushing bear hug. The pair rushed back into the ballroom, eager to begin playing at their matrimony game.

As soon as he reentered the room, a girl wearing an ornate devil's costume tapped him on the shoulder. The figure shrugged a bit, gabbling a few phrases in Swedish. Her voice was unnaturally high and screechy. " Excuse me sir," the girl began, her voice carrying a hint of Russian accent, " but may I have the honor of this dance?" He could not see anything of her face, disregarding a small, cherry mouth. Her dark green eyes danced behind her mask. Chris looked for Riley, but saw that she was dancing with her tightwad brother, Philippe. He took the woman's gloved hand and kissed it. " It would be my pleasure, mademoiselle." He led the girl into the heart of the whirling crowd, sending the pair of them into a lively tango. Her eyes never left him, the jade of them gleaming in the light from the chandelier. Chris gulped quietly. Those eyes were very familiar.

The manager's passed the pair, the two of them arguing over their partners. " That evil woman left a libretto of her fetid opera on my desk!" Shouted Firmin, his date rolling her eyes. Andre shouted back up at him, " Oh yes? Well, that phantom woman must be subdued somehow. Her demands are getting out of control! A murderer in my opera house will not be obeyed!" Chris felt a tingle of fear run up his spine. The very mention of her name frightened him. The masked girl, much to his surprise, began to laugh a horrible, spine-tingling laugh. Chris shuddered involuntarily. It was her.

Before he could bolt away, a clock somewhere began to strike midnight. As the twelve bongs sounded, the crowd cheered, " Happy New Year!" the couples that were dancing removed their masks and kissed each other. Erika tore off his mask, and then tore off her own. She had tied a black silk handkerchief over the usual forbidden area.

The phantom girl held him by the back of his neck. Her jade green eyes were now filled with fire. Chris felt himself go limp in her arms. She caught him, running her eyes all over his body. " Happy New Year, Chris." She then kissed him on the lips, with a passion that Riley had never supplied. Chris could not resist her. He had taken leave of his senses, his wits stolen by his angel. Erika's lips parted with his, and before he could stand up straight, she was gone in a scorching flash of fire. All that was left was her black silk handkerchief.