Author's Note: My first shot at a phanfiction since I first fell love with Phantom in...January. Lolz...i know it's a real short period of time, but I think I've developed pretty nicely.

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? Well, sure, why not! (recieves death glare from ALW, Kay, and Leroux) Okies...jeez fine, it's YOURS! (sulk)

He removed his mouth from her neck as he let her unconscious body slump to the ground. He slowly licked the blood from his lips, savoring it's warm, metallic taste.

"Thank you, mademoiselle, for an…eventful, evening," he said to the dead whore on the ground before him as he threw some coins next to her pale corpse. This was how Erik de Lestat lived night after night. Preying upon prostitutes and beggars. After all, he was a vampire. A cursed creature, made to live eternally in darkness, feeding on the lives of others; forced as well to wear a mask to hide his face, that was deformed beyond imagination. He had to remove it every time to drink, and the reaction of his victims wasn't pleasant. Good thing they didn't have to withstand the horror for long. It wasn't what one would call a wonderful life, but Erik needed to survive and this was the only way he knew how.

He stared pitifully at the dead woman. She looked rather stunning actually. She had long raven hair that contrasted with her pale features. Her emerald eyes, frozen open in terror, stared back at him lifelessly. She was probably no older than 15. Erik instantly hated himself for destroying something so young and beautiful, but it was too late to do anything now.

The hairs on the back of Erik's neck stood and his body tensed. Someone was watching. He returned his mask to his face, turned on his heel and saw through the darkness, a man and woman staring back and forth between him and the dead girl. For what seemed forever, they simply stared at each other…waiting. That is until the man whispered, "Murderer."

Erik's eyes widened with fear. This man would expose him, "MURDERER!" He cried out again, "HELP! THIS MAN IS A MURDERER! HE--" Erik lunged at the man with a cry, grabbed his head, and twisted it viciously to the right. A loud and sickening crack echoed throughout the alleyway.

"PHILLIPE! Oh my God, Philllipe!" screamed the woman. Erik instantly grabbed the her and clamped his jaws to her neck, mask be damned; it usually took about three gulps to kill a woman. As soon as her screaming ceased and her pulse was gone, Erik dropped the woman to the ground next to the raven-haired girl. He had to get out of town before he was captured and hung.

Hours later, Erik had just escaped the gendarmes of Marseilles that had attempted to capture him. Perfect, he thought miserably to himself. Where am I supposed to go now? He had been run out of nearly every damn city in France, he was already exiled from Persia, and he wasn't about to go to England. Wait…Paris! Yes, Paris was the one place Erik hadn't gone to yet. Perhaps he would run into Madeline Giry or Nadir. My, had it been years! And he hadn't been kicked out that city…yet. Yes, Paris would be perfect.

COMTE DE CHAGNY AND WIFE DEAD

23 May-Three people were found dead in an alleyway in Marseilles last night. Two of the bodies were identified as Le Comte Phillipe de Chagny and his wife, Comtess Sorelli de Chagny. The third body, a female's, could not have been identified. The Comte's neck was snapped towards the right and the two women suffered from severe blood loss. Doctors were able to discover fang marks on each of the necks of the Comtess and the unidentified girl. Doctors seem to think that an animal is responsible for this sad tragedy, police however reported that they were chasing a man that looked extremely suspicious. When asked about the crimes, the man froze and then ran off. No description could have been given. The situation is still under investigation. The Comte's brother, le Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, shall now assume all duties as count, including patronage of the Opera Populaire in Paris…..

Three days. It took three long, grueling days for Erik to get to Paris. He didn't even stop during the daytime to get sleep. To protect himself from the sun, Erik had to keep his cloak over his head at all times, except during nighttime of course. But at last, Erik had finally reached his destination. It was very late into the evening. He knew he was going to regret it, but three days sucking the life out of deer and owls has left Erik with a yearning for human blood stronger than he had felt in a long time. It was time to go hunting.

Little Jammes had just walked out of the local pub, "Le Ivrogne." She had been so distraught about La Sorelli's death, she needed something to get her mind off of things. She walked down the streets of Paris, staggering, and apparently talking to someone who wasn't there.

"Sorelli! Sorelli, Goddamn you. We're late for rehearsal again. Madame Giry is going to be so upset with us. Sorelli!" Jammes suddenly tripped over her own feet and fell face first into a puddle of water. Not caring, she simply laid there on the ground, crying and hiccupping. After awhile, Jammes felt someone scoop up her clammy form from the ground. A voice…a man's voice was speaking to her.

"There, there child. It will be all right. You'll feel better soon enough."

Numerous fears played through Jammes' mind as the bodiless voice enveloped around her. somehow comforting her and yet sent chills down the length of her spine. She tried to scream out for help, but all the alcohol in her system fatigued her senses and she felt intolerably weak. Jammes looked into the man's face and saw he had golden eyes and…a white face. The man had began to sing to her, a soft lullaby in French. Jammes felt her consciousness slowly ebbing and she let herself pass out in the man's arms.

Erik stared at the drunken girl who had fallen asleep in his arms. She was probably even younger than the raven-haired girl. She had mouse brown hair and a soft complexion. Erik's eyes moved from her face to her neck. He stared at it for a long time, he could practically hear the blood rushing through her veins. Calling to him. He wanted it…he needed it.

He couldn't bear it any longer. Erik lifted the girl upright and slowly passed his lips over her neck, searching for the blood vessel. When he had found it, he slipped his mask off of his face, opened his mouth and sank his sharp fangs into the girl.

Little Jammes gasped and awoke as she felt a sharp pain stab at her neck. She wrenched herself from the grip of the mysterious man and her hand instantly flew to her neck. She felt a wet, sticky substance cover her fingers. When she brought her hand in front of her eyes, she screamed at sight. Blood completely covered her hand and was still gushing out of her neck. But when Jammes looked into the face of the man, she could've died of fright.

It was the most horrible face she had ever seen. It was red raw as though it had been severely burned. She could see his veins, scars, and bone into the twisted and distorted flesh. He didn't seem to have a nose, only and empty hole stood in it's place.

Jammes screamed even louder and ran from the man.

Erik was now panicking slightly. Barely two hours in Paris, and already he was starting something. Erik swiftly replaced his mask on his face and ran after the escaped girl. She was wounded, she wouldn't get far. He had caught up to the girl and an open street. He wrapped her arms around her waist and pulled her body into his.

"Where do you think you're going, mon cherie?" he growled menacingly.

"Please, monsieur," the girl cried, "I don't want to die! Please don't kill me."

"NO!" Erik shouted as he twisted his fingers into the girl's hair and pulled her head back, exposing her still bleeding neck, "You have seen my face. No one EVER lives to remember my face." The girl still continued to struggle and scream. Erik decided to end it quick before she aroused attention. Erik placed his mouth on the exact spot where the wound still was and gulped as though he were drinking water. With each gulp the girl's pleas and shouts grew fainter.

Not long after, the girl had ceased screaming and Erik was indulging himself in the taste of human blood. He had at last felt satisfied, but this is the second time he had endangered himself in one week. He decided to dump the body and find the cemetery so he could get some long awaited sleep.

Erik carried the dead child over his shoulder and tried to find a dark and empty alleyway to put her. Guilt stabbed at him again. Why was he so attracted to the blood of young and beautiful women? Why did they always succumb to him so quickly without ever becoming suspicious? Why did they scream and run as soon as they caught sight of his face? They had nothing but loved him mere seconds before. His face was his curse. All of his life, he been merely a monster to the world. It had driven everyone he had ever known away from him, even his mother. Everyone except for Nadir and dear, Madeline Giry. Only they had sympathized for him.

Erik sighed and pushed his thoughts away from his mind. He had found a perfect corner to tuck the girl away in. Just when he was setting her down, he heard someone one loudly clear his throat behind him. Erik turned and saw a tall man with copper colored skin, a fairly distinguishable moustache, and a gendarmes' uniform.

"Good evening, monsieur. May I ask wha-" The man's eyes widened as he caught sight of Erik's' mask and stared at him in complete amazement.

"Erik?"

Erik was confused. How did this stranger know him? He looked closely at the man and realization suddenly hit him.

"Daroga?"

Author's Note: Yayz! Tell me wat u think! R&R