Masquerade!

The great hall was decorated beautifully. Giant bouquets of golden flowers were scattered about, people dressed in white, black, and gold were dancing and chatting happily as Reyer conducted the orchestra from above the great marble stair.

Christine looked around at the sea of masks that surrounded. She saw Andre and Firmin walk in the door with their dates on their arms, admiring what they had planned. As she looked around, she saw, blended in the real golden statues, were men and women standing perfectly still holding chandeliers, disguising themselves. They looked so convincing, sometimes it was hard to tell which one was a real human.

Christine continued down the stairs, drawing glances from the guests who stopped and turned their heads their heads to stare. She wore a great black dress with red and ribbon. She had found it at the foot of her bed a few nights before, accompanied with a note.

Wear this to the ball. It is finally finished.

Erik. It had been from him. She hadn't seen him because Raoul was acting very possessive, trying to spend every waking moment with her. Christine couldn't escape to go to the chapel, let alone find time to sneak down under the Opera House once again. Raoul had also started to sleep outside her room. He thought she didn't know.

Christine then spotted Raoul at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her. He looked handsome, dressed in the blue equatorial suit, with his prestigious jacket draped over his shoulder. She walked to him and grasped his outstretched hand. Raoul embraced her tightly, and Christine smiled and looked over his shoulder, feeling someone's stare.

Meg. She stood there, staring unhappily at them. But when Meg saw that Christine was looking, her face turned into a forced smile. Christine was going to say something to her, but Raoul tipped up her chin and moved in to kiss her.

"No, Raoul. Please don't – they'll see," she pleaded. Things could become disastrous should other people find out. Raoul placed his hand on her cheek gently, and Christine looked into his eyes.

Those brown eyes were full of love. A kind of love that Christine would never be able to return. She loved Raoul, no doubt, but the love that she felt for Erik was much more powerful, more soulful than a love with Raoul could ever be.

"Christine, it's an engagement, not a crime. What are you afraid of?"

"Let's not argue," said Christine, leading him onto the floor to dance. "You will understand in time."

When they began to dance, Christine heard Raoul mutter. "I hope I will."

Christine stepped in time to the music, enjoying it as she and Raoul danced in the sea of people. A little release from the music was to dance to it. She cast a quick glance at Carlotta, who had turned her nose away from them.

They danced, staring in each others eyes. Finally, the music slowed, and they came to a stop. Raoul leaned in and kissed her, and for the first time in a while, Christine felt something. She pulled away, smiling at that feeling. It was like back on the rooftop. Erik!

Christine turned to watch people dance with their golden fans, trying to deny what she had just felt for Raoul. Then, all of a sudden, the lights dimmed, the music stopped, and a red figure appeared at the top of the stair.

Erik.


The Phantom stood at the very top of the stair, hiding behind the mask of the Red Death. They hadn't invited him, but he brought them a gift. The gift that was truly for Christine. 'Don Juan Triumphant.' He held the score in his hand as he made his way the stair slowly, taking in the looks that the horrified guests cast at him.

"Have you missed me, good messieurs?" he asked the crowd. He spotted Christine at the bottom of the stair, wearing his dress. Standing beside the Vicomte, but he turned his thoughts back the gala. "Did you think that I had left for good? I have written you an opera. Here I bring the finished score – 'Don Juan Triumphant!'"

He threw the leather-bound opera to the managers. It landed on the floor at their feet. He quickly drew his sword and continued his monologue. "Fondest greetings to you all. I have a few instructions just before rehearsal starts. Carlotta must be taught to act; not her normal trick of strutting around the stage." The tip of his sword wiggled the feather that was on top of her head. When Piangi stepped up, he put the sword into Piangi's stomach. No one would dare touch him while he held a sword. "Our Don Juan must lose some weight," he said to Piangi. "It's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age." Then, he spotted his two managers on the other side of the stairs. They were going to get their turn. "And my managers must learn that their place is in an office – not the arts."

Now it was Christine's turn. "As for our star," he said, meeting her staring blue eyes. He noticed that the Vicomte had left, leaving Christine to him. Bad choice. "Miss Christine Daae. No doubt she'll do her best – it's true, her voice is good, but should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn if pride will let her return to me, her teacher."

The Phantom stood there and looked down at Christine, slowly and silently calling her to him. She had been spending all of her time with the Vicomte now. Could she be starting to doubt her love? The anticipation ran through his bones as Christine slowly walked toward him. Once she heard those songs, she would be his.

Forever.


How could he have been so stupid? He hoped that Christine would be safe there, standing alone. He had to get his sword. He was going to have to take care of this Phantom once and for all now. He was trying to hurry, trying to get back before anything could happen. God, he hoped Christine was alright.

Raoul ran from his office, carrying the sword in his hand as he hurriedly tried to put the sheath on his belt. He ran above the stair and peered down. He could hear faint murmuring, and saw the man as the Red Death walking slowly towards Christine. It had to be the Phantom. Who else would be so intent on getting Christine away from him?

Raoul ran down the stairs, casting a glance to the side, seeing that the Phantom and Christine were still drawing closer – they were almost touching now. Christine looked so different with the Phantom. They almost looked like they belonged with each other.

"Your chains are still mine!" he heard the Phantom yell. "You belong to me!"

Raoul ran towards the Phantom as he watched him disappear in a cloud of flame and smoke. He had gone through a trap door in the middle of the floor. Raoul jumped in behind him. He had to protect Christine from him. She was his, and he would die for her.

Raoul landed with his sword drawn and whipped around, searching for the Phantom. All he saw were mirrors. Countless, endless mirrors and images of himself. He spun around, and saw the image of the Red Death sulking around him, moving anywhere and everywhere, and nowhere Raoul could see.

Where had he gone? What had Raoul gotten into? Which way was the way out?

The fear infected him, driving the blood through his veins harder and faster. He could the Phantom surrounding him, moving about silently, those eyes burning through him. Even though he knew that his sword could not protect him, he swung aimlessly around, trying to hit something. Anything. When he turned, a noose dropped down, and he swung. How was going to find a way out of this?

How could he fight a demented genius?

Then, he jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. He swung his sword around once again, and faced Madame Giry. How had she found him? How did she know about this place? Raoul let her lead him out of the horrible maze of mirrors, her bony hand gripped tightly on his arm.

When they were out, Madame Giry tried to get away without answering any questions.

"Madame Giry, wait!" he said, following her.

"Please Monsieur, don't ask. I know no more than anyone else," she said, trying to hurry off away from him, heading toward her room.

"That's not true!" said Raoul fiercely. Madame Giry was the one person in that cursed Opera House who knew the story of the Phantom, and he wasn't going to let her tell him otherwise.

"Don't ask," said Madame Giry once again, "There have been too many accidents."

"Accidents!" said Raoul. What was she talking about? These deaths were all planned by the Phantom. They were murders. "Please Madame Giry. For all our sakes."

Raoul looked down at Madame Giry as she finally gave in. She ushered him into her room, and he sat quietly on one of her wooden chairs in the dim candlelight. Raoul watched as Giry slowly walked toward him and stared at an old picture sitting on her dresser. It appeared to be a young girl, around twelve, that looked similar to Madame Giry. She touched the picture and Raoul listened hard as she spoke.

"It was many years ago," she began, setting the candle she held down on the table. "There was a traveling fair in the city. Gypsies. I was living in the dormitories of the opera house, studying to be a ballerina. One of many. There were many things, human oddities, conjurors, contortionists, tumblers.

"And there was one I shall never forget. The Devil's Child. We walked into the tent, and saw a boy locked in a cage with a sack covering his face. He couldn't have been more than a year or two younger than me. He played with a small monkey that held cymbals. He was beaten by the man, and he pulled the sack off, revealing the boy's face. I remember everyone around me laughing at the poor boy, but I couldn't help but stare in horror. No one deserved that, even if they were deformed."

Raoul could see everything in his mind. He could imagine seeing a small boy being locked in a cage and having to suffer the humiliation of having your face exposed to the world as a freak. No wonder he had turned out the way he did. Still, what kind of person was he? Still was the blood-thirsty murderer, or the abused child getting through life the only way he knew? Raoul listened carefully once again, as like a movie, the images played through his mind.

"When everyone left, I stayed behind, watching him. As the man picked up the money that some had left behind, the boy grabbed a rope and suffocated him. When the police came in, I opened the cage and brought him here.

"I hid him from the world and all it's cruelties. He has known nothing else of life since then, except this opera house. It was his playground, and now, his artistic domain. He's a genius, he's an architect and designer. He's a composer…and magician. A genius, monsieur."

"But clearly, Madame Giry, genius has turned to madness," said Raoul.

What was he up against?