A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or the characters in it. Katerina is all mine though.

Short but important chapter.I only got one review! I love getting reviews. They make Seattle winters sunny.

Raoul looked up from the newspapers as the pair of voices in the kitchen rose into a crescendo. He didn't know that Katerina could sing, although one would assume so since she had been living with Erik for three years. The song broke into a shower of pealing laughter. He was finding it rather hard to concentrate on reading with the pair carrying on.

A squeal sounded from the kitchen, along with more laughter. Raoul tossed down the paper as the study door opened.

Erik blinked in the doorway as the women rose into more singing.

Raoul glared, "They've been going at it all morning."

Erik shrugged and sat down at the piano where his breakfast had been left. Raoul watched him eat a slice of pear with one hand as he toyed with the piano with the other. He seemed quieter, but one could never tell with the man.

"You're staring."

Raoul cleared his throat, "Sorry."

Christine and Katerina started singing an aria but they only got to the second verse when that also quickly deteriorated into fits of laugher from both women. Erik looked up into the kitchen door and Raoul saw a smile on the man's face. Delicate music filled the air and the kitchen went silent.

Raoul went back to skimming the papers that Katerina had brought. They seemed to be employee records for the theater. As far as he could tell the oldest was dated 1827 and they all seemed to be in no order what so ever. She had said to look for the name Moreau. He sighed, a woman named Aria and a man named Jean. That really didn't narrow anything down. He supposed it would be in the recent files…

Christine bustled out of the kitchen with Katerina behind her.

"Katerina, mothering isn't dresses. Little boys can be darling too."

"But dresses! Imagine her all little in lace and…"

The music paused for an instant before it continued in earnest.

Raoul looked up, "Just what is going on?"

"Nothing," both women answered at once.

"You know, I don't particularly want to know. Katerina, what am I looking for?"

Katerina pulled the two newspapers out from the pile and then shuffled through the stacks of files.

"Here he is, Jean Moreau, he was a flyman for the theater six years ago. A year before that, his sister Aria, a chorus girl in the ballet was murdered in the Rue Lepic."

Raoul looked at the papers, "His sister was the first murder?"

Katerina nodded, "Six more happened after that, but the seventh murder, he was the one who discovered the body."

"I see; that could just be coincidence."

"Look at the dates."

"September 16th. Wait, a moment, his sister was killed on the sixteenth of September, the same day as the other girl whose body he happened to stumble upon."

"Rather odd, isn't it?"

The music ceased as Erik stood and came to look at the papers in front of Raoul.

"The police were wrong, there is a pattern."

Katerina nodded, "There is, it just isn't a very strong pattern, and it did change. After the incident at the opera house, the murders stopped for seven months until they started again, the same method only now all the bodies were found on the steps of the ruined theater. The police suspected another killer, but the method was too similar. It was as if something happened in the murderer's life to make him change."

"The destruction of the opera house," Christine breathed.

Erik slowly nodded, "Do you know what happened to him?"

"No," Katerina shook her head, "I asked some of the other flymen that had returned to the theater, but they said after the fire Jean just disappeared, like he had never existed. As far as anyone knows he died that night."

Raoul looked at the scrawling writing on the documents before him, a name, a birthday, and an address…

Christine hated it when Raoul went out. At least it was after nightfall and Erik had gone with him. Raoul had gone to speak to some people from the theater and to a woman that this Moreau character had been boarding under. Katerina was downstairs in the study still. She had been reading papers and taking notes like mad.

She sighed and looked into the mirror. This was a flesh and blood man they were after, a flesh and blood man that the police should have caught ages ago. It scared her to think that they hadn't yet, because they never found Erik and Erik was almost frighteningly clever to her. If this man was clever enough to not be caught, then he had to be as clever as Erik.

Christine brushed her hair out and frowned, there was a chill coming from somewhere. She turned and saw the curtains blow out from the window. That was it; she must have left the window open. She felt uneasy, at least in the daylight she could pretend. She could laugh and sing, and talk to Katerina about what might be. The window shut easily and she turned back to the mirror.

Just as strong hands slipped around her neck.

Erik grumbled in the cool air. It was still a relatively warm night, not at all like the bitter winter but he still grumbled. He was used to fire now and light. Every time the damn wind blew he was reminded of the grotto and his lair.

Raoul knocked on the door to the boarding house as Erik leaned away from the door to the right. He had his hood up and was hoping he wouldn't draw too much attention. Katerina had laughed at him, saying to not make it look like he was kidnapping the Vicomte. Raoul had just smirked as they had left. Erik closed his eyes and heard the door open.

"Can I 'elp you?"

"Pardon me, I am looking for a Madame Rene."

"Tha's me. Whach you want?"

"I am inquiring about a boarder of yours, a man called Jean Moreau."

Silence and then, "'E worked at tha' theater right? 'E moved out a bit a'go."

"Can you possibly tell me when and where he may have gone?"

"Don't see why a fine dressed man like yerself want anything to do with Jean."

He heard Raoul take in a sharp breath, "Well, you see Madame; he owes me quite a sum of money. I seemed to have…"

"Gotten yerself in trouble wit 'im, then? I don't know where 'e went. Just know tha' 'e moved out nearly six month's a'go. 'E was a quiet one, always reading and such. Lost 'is sister a few years back 'e did."

"I will give him my condolences, thank you."

The door slammed shut.

Erik sighed, "Well, that was a waste of time."

Raoul nodded, "Our week is nearly up; Katerina is going to have to come up with a new excuse."

Erik adjusted his cloak around him, "She's good at that, a little too good sometimes."

Raoul nodded, "We should get back."

The pair walked down the street in perfect silence for nearly ten minutes.

Raoul spoke first, "Where did you meet her?"

Erik turned as they walked, "She saved my life."

Erik didn't recognize Raoul's expression, but after a bit the man nodded,

"Would you tell me how?"

Erik paused for a moment and then nodded, "It was three years after the fire…"

Katerina paused in her reading. The house was quiet. She had been unconsciously aware of Christine's light footsteps upstairs and now there was only silence. Katerina shook her head; the woman had probably sat down or gone to bed or something like that. Katerina sighed, it seemed that the discoveries that she had been making were coming to an end. She could see no more patterns in the behavior of this man. The lack of information frightened her. Erik had told her that knowledge was power, to know what made a person act was power over them. After she had seen Erik in the cage Katerina had feared that maybe this phantom held power over them, power they themselves did not posses.

A thud sounded upstairs and Katerina put down the paper she was staring at. It had been a soft sound, unnoticeable if there had been other people in the house. Katerina sighed; perhaps Christine had dropped a comb or something.

Katerina stood and went to the bottom of the stairs,

"Christine! What are you doing?"

Silence greeted her and Katerina blinked. There was no light on the second floor. Katerina knew that Christine had left the gas lamp on in the hallway when she had gone up. She wouldn't have gone up if it had been dark.

Katerina hurried up the stairs.

"Christine?" she paused as she noticed the door to her bedroom was open halfway.

She remembered Erik shutting it before he left. Perhaps Christine had wanted to borrow something? The soft sound of music permeated the air and Katerina took a step towards the room. It was a small sound, a gentle tinkling and every few notes a little bell would sound. Katerina blinked as she recognized the melody. Erik would sing it, he had told her of the song before in their days beneath the theater.

Katerina pushed the door open and saw a small ornate box sitting on top of the vanity with a candle next to it. She could make out a shadowy figure atop the box and as the little bell rang she realized that it was a monkey with little crashing cymbals on its hands.

Erik had told her of this music box.

Masquerade…

Paper faces on parade…

Masquerade…

Erik had been so angry when he spoke of it. It had been one of the things that were taken by the mobs that had descended into his lair after the fire.

Katerina gasped as fear leapt into her chest.

The melody wore on and she saw the shadows move in the corner of the room.

"Hide your face, so the world will never find you," the voice was not as sweet as Erik's. It was off key and had a hideous rasp to it.

Slowly, Katerina turned and swallowed. There was a figure sprawled out on her bed. Only the hair and the gown told her it was Christine.

The shadow stood in the center of the room, with his head bowed and his arms spread wide like Christ on the cross. So slowly his head rolled so he looked at her. His black mask glittered in the candlelight and Katerina could make out a crack down the middle of it.

He grinned at her and bowed, "Good evening Mademoiselle, I was wondering if I could make you an offer you cannot refuse?"

His arm suddenly jerked forward and Katerina heard a thud at her feet. She looked down and as her eyes adjusted to the light she felt tears come to her eyes.

"Madam DeChangy agreed to come to my bal without a fight but I realized that you would need some… incentive to be a well-mannered mademoiselle."

Katerina shuddered at the small hunched figure in front of her. A rope trailed from the madman's hand to a tight collar around the figures neck. She could hear his labored breathing and see the dark bruises on his pale flesh.

"Oh God, no," she breathed.

Giovanni was on his knees in front of her, looking up with fear in his small features. There were tears in his eyes and he shook as the phantom tugged playfully on the rope.

"So what will it be Madame Durand? Your life or his?"

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