Sorry for the delay in getting this posted…I've been sick for the past week or so I've been busy nursing my bottle of NyQuil. I'm much better now and ready to get back in action!

Thank you to all of you who have read this story, and special thanks to those who have taken the time to review. It really helps writers like me to know what you think about our stories and what you'd like to see happen next!

As always I don't own any characters from Leroux, Kay, or ALW's Phantom of the Opera, just the characters and plot lines I make up in my head.

Chapter 6: Justice and Mercy

Juliette appeared outwardly clam as she climbed the 3rd floor stairs, but as the sad cliché goes, looks can be deceiving. She had no sooner reached the haven of her room when she made a mad dash for her en suite bath, where she fell to her knees and was violently ill.

Resting her sweating brow against the soothing coolness of the immaculate porcelain commode, she let the tears come as the emotions she had held back finally broke free. Anger, fear, self-doubt, rage, pain…all flashing through her as silent tears made tracks down her troubled face.

Exactly how long she sat there she couldn't say, but finally the storm of emotions passed, leaving a blessed sense of serenity in its wake. Wiping her face with the tail of her shirt, she rose to her feet and gave a sigh of dismay when she caught sight of herself in the mirror over the sink. After brushing her teeth and repairing the damage her emotional breakdown had caused, she felt calm enough to return to her work---at least she did until she returned to her bedroom.

Juliette stopped up short, a gasp of dread escaping her lips when she spotted the letter and its black ribbon-clad accompaniment against her pillow. She wanted to walk past it, pretend she hadn't seen it, but instead she found herself drawn to the bed and picking up the black edged envelope. She took a shaky breath and tore through the still warm wax seal.

My dear Mmse. Phelps,

The unprovoked assault upon your person this morning has not gone unnoticed nor unpunished. It shames me that I have allowed a man capable of such atrocities against the gentler sex to seek shelter under this roof---it is an error that I shall regret until I take my last breath.

Rest assured, Mademoiselle, Joseph Buquet will not trouble you or any other young woman with his unwanted advances again.

Your Obedient Servant,

The Phantom O.G.

Juliette realized that this letter, unlike the previous missive, was written in a dark red ink that resembled dried blood, and from the tone of the letter, might have very well been written in such. The words written in the elegant script began to swim before her eyes, and the letter slipped from her numb fingers as the room slipped sideways. She was already unconscious and therefore didn't feel her head hit the corner of the bedside table, nor the gentle hands that picked her up moments later.

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The Compte's housekeeper was enjoying a late lunch with her daughter Meghan in the breakfast room when the brusque request interrupted the discussion of the young woman's holiday.

"Antionette, Juliette is in her room and she is injured…please hurry!"

Mrs. Geery was alarmed by the urgency in his voice. "Erik, what on Earth?"

"Please, there's no time for questions right now—she fell and hit her head. I've managed to slow the bleeding, but I believe she may need stitches. She may have a possible concussion as well."

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Moments later, Mrs. Geery and Meghan rushed in to find an unconscious Juliette on her bed, her face pale in contrast to the blood soaked fine linen handkerchief on her forehead. As the housekeeper examined the wound, clucking at the bruising and swelling around the sluggishly bleeding gash, she couldn't help but also notice the bruises on the younger woman's wrists and forearms. While retrieving supplies from her mother's portable first aid kit, Meghan happened to glance down and noticed the note on the floor beside the bed. Her curiosity overwhelmed her shame at invading the injured woman's privacy, and she quickly scanned the missive's contents. She nudged her mother's shoulder and thrust the paper in front of her. "Maman, look!"

"What? What is it?" Mrs. Geery quickly scanned the short note, immediately recognizing the familiar handwriting. Suddenly furious, she called out in an angry voice to the unseen observer. "Erik, show yourself….I know you're here. What is this about an attack on Jules? Tell me you haven't done anything rash!"

"Very well, Madame Geery, I won't tell you." The voice echoing in the room. The hidden panel in the far corner opened silently, and the tall cloaked figure stepped into the bedchamber, bowing to the two women in a courtly manner before continuing. "That filth dared to try and force himself on Mmse. Phelps in her studio this morning, and I took out the garbage, simple as that."

Mrs. Geery sent her daughter from the room with the task of filling an ice bag for the swelling on Juliette's head. "This isn't a laughing matter, Erik. Whatever Joseph Buquet has done, you can no longer play judge and executioner. People in this day and age can't just disappear like in the old days. The police will get involved-----there will be inquiries, and they won't give up until they have answers." Turning back to her patient, she quickly sutured the short but deep gash with neat, sure stitches. "And look what your rash actions have done! This poor girl's scarcely been here 3 days and she's already had two life-threatening accidents—it will be a miracle if she doesn't pack up and leave."

Erik crossed his arms as she stood at the foot of the bed, observing the still figure on the bed. "I admit I was not expecting such a reaction…I would have thought she would be pleased that I removed him after what he attempted to do to her. I am sure, however, that once she recovers she will want to do all in her power to honor her contract. If not, then it will be up to you to persuade her to do so."

"I wouldn't be so certain about that, Erik…were I in her shoes, I would think twice about working in an establishment where being terminated takes on a whole different meaning. Tell me, what have you done with him?"

The tall man sighed. "He's in the secondary wine celler, and before you ask, yes, he is still among the living. Fortunately, I hadn't decided what to do with his mangy carcass yet….although a quick drop and a sudden stop at the end of my punjab lasso is still at the top of my list. I guess it behooves me to hand him over to the authorities and let them deal with him, after I give him a sound thrashing. Will that satisfy you, Madam?"

"For now it will, Monsieur." Mrs. Geery smiled faintly as Meghan returned, ice bag in hand. "And now it would be best if you returned to the phantom's domain and allow my daughter and I to tend to the living, if you don't mind? Meghan, look in the dresser and fetch me a nightgown, will you? And no peeking, Erik!"

An echoing chuckle was the only response as the secret panel slipped shut behind him.