I'm very sorry for the cliffhangerat the end of the last chapter. I just had to do it to you all, hehe. I hope this chapter makes up for it. Enjoy!

Chapter 8

The voice that had spoken was all too familiar, but hearing it so unexpectedly made me feel like I'd grabbed hold of an electric fence. I spun around and stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at the black-clad figure of Erik, who was seated at the piano, his long fingers resting upon the keys.

"Although..." he continued, whilst staring calmly back at me from behind the white mask, "it is not the most appropriate piece for this concert tomorrow."

I barely heard the words he spoke. I was too shocked by the fact thathe was here, in the flesh.Although I had not seen him for weeks, his image was branded on my memory, andhe was just as I remembered, from the black clothes to the eerie white mask. But looking at him now… it was suddenly hard to believe that this was the same man who had comforted and supported me over the past few weeks. It was almost as if I had convinced myself that there were two of him. One was the kind and thoughtful man who I spoke to almost every night, and who I had begun to trust and perhaps even considera friend. The other…

Suddenly, I was struck by the memories of what else he had done to me... things I would rather not remember… but knew I should not forget.

"What..." I stammered, almost incapable of coherent speech."What are you doing here?" I sounded breathless… like a fish out of water, which was pretty much how I felt too.

He tilted his head slightly and, in the shadows, I saw the flicker of a smile on his mouth. As usual, the rest of his face was hidden behind the white mask, but his eyes sparkled with a private amusement I certainly did not share in.

"You sounded as though you needed help."

Rather than respond to this declaration I simply stared, befuddled, at the masked man. With the smile still faintly present on his exposed mouth he beckoned me closer to the piano with a smooth, almost irresistible gesture. Almost... because I could still recall the threats, the way that same beckoning hand had once held a knife, andpointed it at my throat. That memory was even more pronounced now that I could see the man himself. Over the phone, it was often hard to believe that the melodic voice could ever make a single threatening remark.

But this figure before me... cloaked in shadows... suddenly he seemed capable of anything.

"Come here," he commanded softly. His voice was much harder for me to resist and I obeyed, but hesitantly, approaching to stand close to the piano. I made sure the huge instrument was between us,unconsciously seeking protection of any kind in Erik's presence.He watched my movements carefully, until I felt myself blushing uneasilyunder his gaze. I stared down at the dark wood under my hands and tried to think of a way to break the silence.

"If you're caught..." I began, but he chuckled softly before I could even start to think of the numerous things that might happen to him and probably to me if we were found.

"I won't be caught, Christine. Neither of us will... I assure you of that."

I didn't laugh out loud, but inside I did. A man who could kill another and still evade the police... who had somehow made his way over to this country without being suspected of anything... he could certainly avoid some school teachers on the prowl. What shocked me, however, was that I was actually concerned about what might happen if we were found here... not just for my own sake but for his.

Deciding that this train of thought was too dangerous I tried another, only to realise too late that it was no better than the first.

"You really came all this way to..." I trailed off again. Why was I unable to complete a mere sentence?

Fortunately, for both our sakes, Erik did not respond to this unfinished question. He only regarded me quietly for a few moments before producing, from the inside pocket of his coat, a few sheets of carefully folded paper. Even before he handed them to me I knew they were music sheets, but I stared in confusion, and more than a little anger, when I recognised the piece.

"That's not funny," I snapped, thrusting the sheets back towards him.

He stared calmly back and didn't move. "Good... I had no intention of being funny."

I glared at him, then down at the song sheets and the words The Jewel Song that were printed at the top of the page. "Then why are you giving me these?"

"Because you should practice," he responded simply.

"For what?" I asked bitterly, suddenly wanting nothing more than to ram those pages down his throat and retreat to some secluded place where I could cry in peace.

He gave a sigh of strained patience. "Because even if you are not to perform this piece tomorrow... that is no reason to neglect it." He looked at me again and perhaps he saw that I was still angry and upset by his request because he went on, but in a gentler tone. "I know it hurts, Christine... but you must not surrender your love of music to a mere setback. Are you going to behave this way every time you lose a part to someone else?"

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I was behaving like a child again. Life in any profession, but particularly in ones such was music and theatre, was full of disappointments and let downs. If I threw a bitter tantrum every time something like this happened then I would be no better than people like Charlotte.

When I did not respond, he went on. "Besides... you have far more talent than that girl... who feels the necessity to use her connections to win performances. The raw talent you possess is more than you should ever need."

I felt myself blushing at the 'raw talent' reference. It wasn't that Erik had never complimented me before. In fact he had often made comments such as this over the phone. But perhaps it was because he was standing right there and saying it to my face that made these words have this kind of effect. I stared down at me feet in mute silence before Erik cleared his throat meaningfully. When I looked up he gestured for me to return to my former place in the centre of the stage. I did so, music sheets in hand, although I was still unable to see the point in all this.

I looked back at him, and he nodded as he went into the introduction of the song. I just had the time to realise that it hadn't just been my imagination… that his playing was more exquisite, more phenomenal than anything I had heard in my life… and then I was swept up in the music. I'd never sung with accompaniment like this before, and doubted I ever would again. By the end of the song I was breathless, but more from exhilaration than exhaustion.

Erik, however, merely looked thoughtful.

"I'm afraid that performance was lacking," he said finally.

I stared at him. "Lacking what?" I asked, uncertain whether to be hurt by his criticism. He tapped a gloved finger against his chin and didn't reply so I said, rather cheekily: "A little 'je ne sais quoi'?"

He fixed me with a stern look and for a second I thought I had overstepped the mark. But then he merely smiled a little sadly and shook his head.

"It lacked feeling."

I bit my lip. I had been a little too thrown by the expertise of Erik's playing to really get into the song, but I knew that even if I had tried it would have been difficult to call up the particular emotions that Marguerite would have been feeling. I couldn't really find anything to be truly ecstatic about and said so.

"I just can't find the inspiration," I explained guiltily.

Nodding, Erik contemplated the piano keys that lay under his gloved fingers. "I suppose every artist requires a little inspiration," he murmured more to himself than to me. "Who knows," he went on, "perhaps that inspiration will come soon."

I wasn't sure why, but the underlying tone in his voice made me feel a little shaky inside, as if he knew something that I didn't. But he wasn't giving anything away, even when I gave him a questioning look. He merely smiled and changed the subject.

"Again?"

Before I could reply he had begun the introduction again. This time I concentrated on putting more feeling into it. It gradually became easier, especially with Erik's playing. He seemed able todraw out the emotions on the piano with such easy grace. I became so caught up in the pleasure of singing to such wonderful accompaniment I realised suddenly that my voice was beginning to sound… not different exactly… but morerich and flowing. And even though I knew it sounded wonderful, it was actually disturbing to think of the effect Erik's playing could have. An almost hypnotic effect that was both delightful and dangerous.

I wondered if he knew.

When the final notes of the piano died away I could feel thatmy whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

"Oh wow," I whispered softly and, even though he was trying to hide it, I could see just the faintest tremor at the corner of Erik's mouth. The beginnings of an approving smile.

"Perhaps you should be getting back."

The sudden change in subject baffled me for a moment, and then my breath hitched in my throat as I remembered that I was supposed to have locked up the hall by now and returned the keys. I had only meant to stay a few minutes… if I was much longer I would get in trouble. Or worse, someone might come looking for me.

"Yeah," I said, trying to shake myself out of the strange non-reality that had descended around me. "I'll…" I stopped. The words 'I'll see you later' had been working their way out of my mouth, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to contemplate this possibility, or even my feelings about it. So I kept it simple. "Bye."

"Good bye for now."

I told myself not to read into those words as I turned my back on Erik, who had not moved from his seat in front of the piano. It made me feel self-conscious as I walked towards the doors at the back of the hall… knowing he was watching me go. But I refused to turn around and look over my shoulder until the very last minute, when I was out of those doors and shutting them behind me.

He was gone.

For the rest of the evening I tried to get my head around the fact that Erik was actually here in England… at my school. Perhaps he had been here for days, even weeks… and I hadn't realised it. Had he been watching me like he had when I had been in Rome? Ifeltmore thana little panickyabout the implications of this possibility… and strangely enough not because I felt that he was a threat to me or to my friends. Instead it was because, more and more, recently, Ihad begun to contemplate the possibility that Erik was not calling me simply to refresh my memory of his threats and the danger he might pose to me and my family. There was some other motive behind his casual manner. Why would he ask me so many questions if his only intention was to threaten me? Why would he give me advice? And why would he come all the way here just to lend me support?

But I wasn't ready to take this train of thought too far. Not yet. It was too… weird. I pushed it out of my head and tried to think of something else.

I was given something else to think about the very next day. I had just arrived in the dining room and sat down to eat breakfast when the roll-call was taken. At first all the names were read out as normal, but when Charlotte's name was called there was no answer. Her name was called a second time, and then a younger girl was sent to Charlotte's room to wake her up. I glared down into my cereal bowl. How could she possibly sleep in on a day like this? I would have been too excited to sleep at the thought of performing in the concert.

The younger girl return, out of breath from running, and said something to the teacher that I couldn't hear. Meg and I exchanged glances, and then watched as the teacher's expression turned to one of concern. She made a note on her clipboard and then sent the girl off again.

Charlotte didn't turn up at the morning assembly, and it wasn't until Music class, from which she was also absent, that I found out what was wrong.

"From what I've been told," the teacher said, "she just can't stop throwing up. The nurse said she's feverish and can't keep anything down… she may even have to go to hospital."

I nodded, frowning slightly in worry. I didn't like Charlotte, but even if she was a world-class bitch, it was still horrible that she was so ill.

"What about the concert?" I asked suddenly.

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," she said, with a hint of a smile on her face now. "Obviously Charlotte can't perform in her condition… but rather than remove her completely from the program I thought it would be much better to simply replace her."

I felt as though every internal organ in my body had suddenly jumped in celebration, hoping that my teacher was suggesting what I thought she might be. My feelings must have shown in my expression, because she grinned at me.

"I take it you feel up to it?"

Well, I certainly wasn't about to say no!