I'm so sorry this is out late but the Harry Potter book just came out so it got me hooked for a bit too long! My family has also had guests over so that also takes away from my time on the computer.

I'd just like to thank Mademoiselle Justicia for reviewing again. The comments were helpful and I have to agree with you: GO ERIK!

Chapter Four

"Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!"

A sharp wrapping on the door woke Loralee out of her deep sleep. She opened her mouth to talk but yet again, like the day before at practice, another long jaw cracking yawn burst out. She rubbed her eyes open, feeling warmer than ever, and said out loud, "Come in!"

Madame Giry opened her door and walked in. She had a soft yet piercing look upon her face and turned to talk to Loralee but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the large black cloak that enveloped the just waking Loralee.

"My dear Beth McLay! Where in the world did you get that. . . that. . ."

She was unable to finish her question and instead stared dumbfounded at the Phantom's cloak. Oh, Erik. . . she thought. Not again. Not now! And why this girl out of all?

Loralee only noticed the soft velvet against her skin when Madame Giry stared at it. Gasping herself, the memories of the night came flooding back.

This is the Phantom's cloak! she thought surprised. No, don't be stupid Loralee. It was just some stage hand or you were just seeing things.

Fingering the lush fabrics that made the cloak, Loralee slipped her feet out of the bed. As she did so, she noticed how she was in her under garments. The bruises and cuts showed clearly out on her pale skin and a sickening thoughts came to mind.

The stage hand, or whoever they were, had seen the marks when they got her ready for bed! Loralee looked fearfully up at Madame Giry, covering herself with the cloak, but Madame Giry had already seen the marks.

A look of utter confusion was plastered over Madame Giry's face. She had heard of the scars this Beth has been carrying from her little daughter Meg, and had come to find out the truth from Beth. When she entered, she was only to be bombarded with more questions.

Looking up into Beth's face, Madame Giry saw fear because Madame Giry had seen the scars, not the cloak. The girl herself looked puzzled at the lush piece of clothing.

"Beth, we must talk. . ."

Loralee wasn't paying attention, though, because otherwise she would have thought a terrible end of her job here at the Opera Populaire was coming. No, instead her attention was drawn to a blood red rose on her vanity with a black silk ribbon tied around the stem. Next to it was a note on black edged parchment.

She got up, quickly passing Madame Giry who was settling herself into a rickety chair by the bed and hesitantly picked up the note. Perhaps it is from the stage hand who got me, she thought hopefully. The note was very quickly scrawled in blood red ink in a untidy handwriting.

Dear Loralee Donoghue,

Do not expect me to bring you back next time you get lost, so keep and eye out for where you are. Keep the cloak but don't say where you got it from.

O.G.

The first thing she did was panic.

How in the world does he know my name! I don't even know his! Who is this O.G.?

"Mademoiselle McLay, what is that?"

Madame Giry came and snatched the letter out of Loralee's hands, fearing what it said when she saw the perfect rose that came with it.

"NO!" Loralee shouted out, trying to grasp it back but Madame Giry held it out of reach and read it out loud. Loralee had broken down in sobs, her secret now being revealed, and sunk to the floor in a flurry of black. As Madame Giry finished it, she stared at it bewildered for a moment and then back down to Loralee, her guess of who Beth was proving truthful.

"So. . . So you're the girl that Hector Chaffee is looking for? Loralee Donoghue? That name does suit you better than Beth McLay."

Loralee blinked in shock at Madame Giry. She wasn't pulling her up by the ear and dragging her away to the police! Madame Giry instead just calmly looked down at Loralee, understanding on her face.

"Oh, don't worry Loralee. I've covered up for you. I figured out you were her yesterday when I heard about your scars from Meg and then the next second Monsieur Chaffee came in asking if I'd seen a girl in a tattered dress and long raven hair named Loralee Donoghue. After hearing the stories of your sobs I figured out you'd rather be left alone, so I told him I haven't. Also, we don't want to lose a wonderful singer, now do we?"

Loralee's jaw went slack.

"But. . . but Madame. How. . . I. . . You. . . But. . . Why?"

She couldn't string together a sentence let alone think at all. Before Madame Giry could answer, Loralee finally found a deep love and respect for Madame Giry and she threw her arms around Giry's surprised and stiff body. Luckily, she loosened, chuckled, and patted Loralee's back much like a mother to a daughter.

"Thank you!" Loralee said, managing to blink back tears of relief. She got up, smoothed out her under garments, which she had slept in, and picked up the cloak while Madame Giry just smiled warmly at her. When Madame Giry's gaze shifted to the cloak, her face when tight again.

"Loralee, we need to talk about how you got that cloak and. . . and the rose."

"Okay," Loralee said, sensing the urgency in the talk. She settled down on the end of her bed, running her fingers lightly over the warm black velvet. It smelt of sandalwood and a sort of damp cold, as if it had been through mist and fog many times. The smell itself was mystifying and very lovely making her eyes glaze over and a small smile come to her lips.

"When did you find out about this cloak?" Madame Giry asked.

"Just this morning, after you noticed it," she said, wondering why in the world Madame Giry was so interested in it.

"And. . . and did you ever see its bearer?"

"Well, at least I think I did," she pondered, guessing it was from the stage hand. Madame Giry went stiff.

"Tell me everything."

"Okay. . ."

Loralee was now getting really uncomfortable. She felt like a child who got caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar.

"Yesterday after practice, Meg took me to the dressing rooms. I got tired and rather disgusted after a while so I told Meg how I was going to go back to my room. I went out but got lost on my way back. I was very frightened so I started running and soon found myself in the chapel. I knew my way back from there so I was turning to leave when I smashed into the door which was shut. I almost got knocked out but I stayed conscience. It was strange, though, because I didn't shut the door. Getting really frightened, I rushed to open it, but while I did so I saw a shadow move in the corner of my eye. Turning around I came face to face with a man all clad in black. Looking up, I saw it was wearing a porcelain half mask."

Loralee saw Madame Giry close her eyes and breath out, face turning pale.

"He started towards me but stopped when I looked him in the eyes; it was very strange. I felt an unknown feeling towards him but was too frightened to comprehend it. Then I fainted, being so overwhelmed and frightened, and only remember two strong hands catching me as I fell."

Madame Giry's eyes snapped open hearing that.

"I'm not sure who it was, but my first thought was that it was the Phantom of the Opera. Now that I reflect back on my thoughts, I find that was a childish of me to think so, and it must have just been a stage hand trying to frighten me."

Loralee failed to notice Madame Giry let out a sigh of relief.

"I do wish to know who this O.G. person is. do you have any ideas?" Loralee innocently asked Madame Giry.

"I'm not sure," she answered. "There must be a few Owens or Olivers in the crew but I don't think you should go looking for the man who gave you a cloak. It could. . . distract you."

Madame Giry rose, Loralee following suit.

"Loralee, I suggest you get ready for practices. We have a performance tomorrow and need everyone to be at their best state. After practice don't dwindle, and find your way back to your room while it's still light. A nice hot bath would feel great, also. Just get some of the maids to draw up some water and soaps."

She went over to the door and was about to go through but then turned back around to face Loralee.

"I promise I won't tell anyone of who you really are. You will still be known as Beth McLay to the Opera Populaire. Also, keep the cloak, but I advise you to follow that letter and not tell any one of where you got it from. It appears I'm not the only one who knows your real history. If someone does ask you where you got it from, say. . . say I gave it to you."

And with that, Madame Giry went away to leave Loralee to get ready for practices that day.