A/N: I would like to thank all those who have reviewed thus far! Without your encouragement and support, I would still have been able to write, but would not have enjoyed it half as much!

Although it took me a while to get back to this story, I knew that I would eventually return to it. After all, I could not leave my beloved characters stranded, could I? It's just that my muses, who are rather capricious, decided to have me concentrate on another story for quite some time...

Chapter 10: A Fruitless Search

Christine

The ride to Paris seemed much too long to me. I spent the time endlessly debating with myself, while trying to be polite to Dupres, who had insisted on accompanying me in one of the plush seats in the back of the coach. At least, he had agreed to sit across from me, and not right next to me, as he had originally wanted.

I could not understand his insistent, annoying interest in me. Surely a man of his position would be able to find any number of beautiful women who would be more than happy to return his attentions! I was growing quite tired of being told how beautiful I was. True, that comment was frequently accompanied by similar compliments on the quality of my singing, but it was still irritating. Had I not been blessed with an attractive face, would those who were so given to fawning on me have praised my singing? I think not! I have begun to believe that it is most unfair that men are not valued as highly as women for the beauty of their features! Indeed, an ugly man may comfortably find his place in the world solely on the basis of his achievements. Ah, but there were exceptions even to this little rule! For there was a sublime genius in the world, who could not win acceptance based on his considerable talents, due to the terrible disfigurement he had been unfortunate enough to be born with...

So I mused as I sat in the luxurious vehicle, attempting to remain as quiet as possible, but meeting with Monsieur Dupres's intruding stream of words at every turn. I would from time to time look out the window, my heart in my throat, as I fought back tears. I was wondering what Erik had done, upon discovering my disappearance...Several times during the ride I felt myself on the verge of asking Dupres to turn the coach around, and take me back to the inn. Each time, I squelched the impulse, as I once more saw Erik's face, flushed with an insane rage, before my eyes...At length, my emotions had the best of me, and tears began rolling silently down my face.

Dupres instantly became concerned. I knew he would try once again to extract some information about my personal history, as he had so far been unsuccesful in doing.

"Mademoiselle," he began cautiously. "I would hope that you would allow me to allay your distress. Is there anything I can do to alleviate it?"

I shook my head as I turned away from him, my eyes on the moving landscape outside the window. I did not trust myself to speak. Presently I felt something being pressed into my hands, and I realized that it was a handkerchief. Its delicate perfume drifted up to me. Looking down, I noticed that it had lace edges, and delicately embroidered initials, in pink and green thread. I glanced at Dupres rather suspiciously.

Smiling a little nervously, he said, "It...ah...belongs to...my sister, Mademoiselle."

So I had been right about him. Now I knew why I had not liked him, or his persistence in seeking my company. The man was a disgusting rake! How very typical of his class! Raoul, I knew, was a very highly-principled member of that same class. However, that could not be said for all its representatives...One such now sat before me. I must be on my guard. What if he had no intention of taking me to my chosen destination, after all, but meant to spirit me away to his chateau, where he could have his way with me? His servants would do nothing to help me, no doubt being accustomed to his endless parade of paramours...

I stiffened visibly. "Thank you for your kindness, Monsieur, but I really don't need..."

He interrupted me. "Mademoiselle, I know quite well what you imagine me to be. I assure you that I have no sinister designs upon your person, but am merely deeply grateful to have made the acquaintance of such a beautiful..."

"Please don't say it, Monsieur!" I hastily handed the handkerchief back to him. "I am sure that you have had ample opportunity to have been in the company of women far more beautiful than I! And, now, if you would be so kind, I wish to be left alone with my thoughts for some time."

He was stung by these remarks, but tried to hide his brief flare of anger. "Very well, Mademoiselle. It shall be as you wish," he said, as coldly as he could.

I fervently hoped that silence would reign for the duration of the ride...

Erik

I ran down the stairs like a madman, uncaring that my face was only covered by the turban, which might slip off at any moment. There were four floors, and I even resorted to sliding down the banister, something I knew mischievous boys often did. I, however, having been deprived of a normal childhood, had never enjoyed such innocent pleasures. Now it was strictly a matter of urgency, so I did not derive any belated joy from the act.

Once on the first floor, I looked about wildly, but saw no sign of her. Of course, my utter emotional collapse upstairs had ensured that there would be a considerable span of time between our respective flights. She had probably had ample time to flee from the town.

A cold fear seized my heart. I was not going to find her. Indeed, she did not wish me to find her. Trembling, I forced myself to approach the concierge's desk. The man there was going through some papers, but looked up expectantly as I neared the desk. I saw him frown involuntarily as he took in my appearance. I knew that the turban was still in place, but my eyes were not hidden, and so part of my disfigurement was visible. Still, the man ignored this, to his credit. He was probably a very decent, kind, human being. I dared hope, before my ravaged soul exclaimed within me, "Do not let him fool you by his appearance of kindness! It has cost you dearly in the past!"

"Yes, Monsieur?" he now inquired, attempting to make both his voice and facial expression completely neutral.

"Have you...have you..." I stammered, my heart pounding like a fiend, both from anxiety and the exertion of flying down four flights of stairs. "Have you seen a young lady come down very recently, very beautiful, dressed in Arabic robes?" My golden gaze bore into him.

He tipped his head and considered me, his expression now taking on a suspicious air. "Why, yes, Monsieur. Not more than fifteen minutes ago. She seemed quite distressed. I had her sit by one of the windows over there, but she did not stay seated long. She finally ran outside, and promptly disappeared." He stroked his mustache and goatee, regarding me thoughtfully.

"Ahhhhhh..." I sighed, in utter defeat. "She is gone, then..."

"Pardon me, Monsieur," he now continued, his eyes still upon me. "Did you not arrive a mere two days ago, accompanied by a very young man?"

I nodded sheepishly. "It was she, Monsieur," I found myself admitting. "We had an urgent need to escape...the city. You see, she was being pursued..." I finished, lamely.

The concierge's eyebrows shot up. "By whom, Monsieur, if you will pardon my asking?"

I was caught, but I was accustomed, thanks to my accursed past, to lie smoothly.

"By someone who was opposed to our marriage -- a rival suitor!"

"Ah, so the young lady in question is your wife, I take it!" His face brightened. Doubtless the fool was proud of himself for having arrived at such a brilliant deduction, which I alone knew to be incorrect.

"Precisely, Monsieur." I assented, satisfied that the man would now see no impropriety in my actions. "I must go outside and see if she may still be about. I fear some foul play!"

With this, I dashed outside, although my heart told me that she was indeed gone...

I ran up and down the little, unpaved street in front of the inn, but was unsuccesful in my search. As I went, I held the turban up with one hand, fearful that it might drop, and the horror would be revealed. Several denizens of the town were strolling about, and I wanted to inquire as to whether they had seen a young lady fleeing their way, but I did not dare...

At last, I had to admit that she had indeed given me the slip. I could not blame her for her flight. She had been terrified at the sight of her beloved's face, contorted with rage. Perhaps she had even thought that I would harm her physically...Ah, but she did not yet know me, my little diva...I would never strike her. Yes, I had murdered, but none of my victims had been women. I refused to hurt any member of the fair sex. At least, not physically. My words, and the frightening power of my voice, however, were an entirely different matter...

Dejectedly, I turned back to the inn. I had not given up on finding her, however. I knew that she must have decided to return to Paris. Where else could she go? I also knew that she would go directly to Madame Giry's apartment. The woman had partially raised her, after all. And little Meg had been like a sister to her. Yes, that was her most likely destination.

As I entered the inn once again, I was informed by the concierge that the next coach back to Paris would not come by until the early morning hours. My shoulders slumped in abject despair. Turning away, I was able to catch the strange look the concierge was giving me. He seemed to feel suspicious again...

I knew that I would have to leave the inn as expeditiously as possible.