Chapter 8

"Come on Meg! Stop dragging your feet." I pulled on her arms, forcing her to follow me down the winding staircase, the route I take every day to him.

"Where are we going?" She stopped stubbornly, waiting for my reply.

"I want you to meet someone."

Meg is my one and only friend, the only Ballet girl who wouldn't turn on me at the drop of a coin to better themselves. I want her to meet him; after all, he is my life. He didn't want to have anything to do with my friend, but I persuaded him into letting me bring her to see him. He knew if he wanted me to be a part of his life, which I most certainly know he wants, he would have to be a part of mine, including meeting my closest friend, although never told him who I was bringing. If he know I was bringing Meg, there is no way in hell would he have agreed.

"Who?" She asked impatiently.

"I met someone." I danced around the question. If she knew she was about to meet the famous Opera Ghost, she most certainly wouldn't follow. I turned way, trying to pretend like it was nothing, but she wouldn't let me. She grabbed my shoulders and turned me completely around to face her.

"A man?" A wolfish grin spear across my face, was it truly that obvious?

"I knew it! That is why you haven't been around!" she hugged me, excited for my happiness.

"Finally, I thought you would never find one! You have always been the little virgin of the group! Why, your the only one who hasn't been caught in the halls in the arms of a man." I rolled my eyes at the comment, despite the fact it was true. The ballet rats might just as well be called Ballet whore, they are always bedding new men.

"Who is he?" She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. I hesitated, not sure what to tell her. She knew who he was, are at least, what he was called.

"His name is Erik."

"What does he do?" She was fishing for information to recognize him.

"He is a composer." As I spoke, we reached the edge of the lake. As I stepped into the boat, her face went pale.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"To his home, Little Meg." She stopped dead in her tracks, he eyes widening with reasoning.

"But... He lives down here." She shuddered out in fear. How could I forget her fear of him? After all, Christine was her closest friend before she left. I grabbed her hand, trying to coax her into the gondola.

"Well, the thing is..." I couldn't find words, but she knew what was on my mind.

"You're kidding right? This is just some joke. Getting back at me for something?" She tried to convince herself, but no avail.

"No, you can't.. You can't... not him. What about Christine?" She pulled her hands away from me, as if I was some leper.

"Meg, calm down. You are me closest friend, you should be happy for me." Tears started to collect in my eyes. I need her to understand who Erik is, not who she thinks the Phantom of the Opera was. I can't stand not having her involved in my life, all of my life.

"Don't cry... It's just, are you sure about...? Erik? I mean, with what happened between him and Christine?"

"Christine? Christine!" Just her name enraged me. "He gave her his heart, his soul. He would do anything for her, he loved her. But she... but she..." Meg placed her hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me.

"I didn't mean to upset you, I 'm just concerned, I don't want history repeating it's self, that's all."

"It won't Meg, I won't leave him." I said flatly. I lifted my face to look into hers, and wiped away the last of the forming tears.

"Don't get me wrong, I loved Christine just as much as you did. She was like a sister to us, but what she did to him was cruel and unjust. She looked at the situation as if she was a prostitute."

Meg's jaw dropped at me worlds, before she protested, I continued, to justify my statement.

"She was Raoul's lover, yet she came to Erik." Meg dropped the subject, not wanting to say any hurtful words about either on of her friends.

When we reached his home, we found Erik sitting at his rightful place in front of his organ, scratching down some notes on the paper before him.

"Erik." I called to him, as I pulled the gondola to the edge, letting Meg out. He came over to greet us, me with a kiss on the cheek, and Meg, a slight bow and kiss on the hand.

He always dressed in his normal formal attire, but tonight he looked especially handsome. His jacket had a Spanish inspired design in red along the cuffs, the top of the pockets, and collar. His vest matched the intensity of the red embroidery, making his porcelain white mask almost glitter.

"This is my closest friend, Meg Giry." I introduced her.

"It is a pleasure mademoiselle." He spoke, as he lead her deeper into his home. He glanced back at me, shooting me a disapproving hurt look.

Oh my Erik, I don't mean to hurt him like this. I can see the pain in his eyes; after all, she is his daughter. How it mush pain him to watch her from a far, never being allowed to reveal himself to her, especially when she is so close, so tempting.

Meg took a seat on the small cream coloured love seat he kept in his sitting room, facing the Organ. Erik and I took a seat across from her at the organ's bench, facing our guest. He wrapped his arm around my waist out of habit, but then withdrew, not wanting to be rude to our guest.

"Don't change one my account." Meg asked him, noticing his rigid behavior.

"No need of such formality, unless that's your casual pose." Feeling slightly awkward, Erik tried to loosen his tense appearance, and wrapped his arm around me once more.

We sat and talked for hours, purely about nothing, just our normal useless chatter, only talking to entertain. Meg constantly stole glances of Erik, blushing when she did, then returned her attention back to me. She fancies him, not that I don't blame her, Erik is not the typical man, he is so much more. She never was good at hiding her feelings, least of all from me.

Just like Meg, Erik couldn't keep his eyes off of her, but for a far different reason. Seeing the two of them together, there similarities are remarkable. She inhertited his bright blue green eyes, although her eye's have more blue than green, as perfectly formed lips. That straight blonde hair of hers comes from him, but she would never know, not with the black wig he wears to cover his splotched of light locks. His tall, slim figure also passed to her. Only her rounded soft facial features came from her mother, something that thinned and hardened with her stressful years.

At first, Erik just sat there, afraid to socialize, but she brought him out of his shell. He laughed with her, and joined in on our little debates, sometimes siding with me, and sometimes her, he even played us a song because she asked. I have never seen Erik so happy, well... not just talking any way. His eyes twinkled like a small boy, who just received a gift. I never wanted our gathering to end, not with the joy he got from it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something move in the shadow, He saw it too. He excused himself, and walked towards the hall. A stern figure stepped forward, to face him, but His body blocked out view of the visitor.

"Pleasure you see you again, Madame Giry." As he spoke, she stepped towards us in her almost dictator pride, arms crossed and stern face.

I have only seen her have such a threatening look once in the time I have danced under her instruction.

It was right after Christine first came to dance, and Meg and I decided to play a trick on her, to welcome her to the dormitories in a way. We told her a vampire stalked theOpera house, looking for some young girl kidnap and feed on. She ran to Madame Giry, and refused to leave her side till the vampire was killed. I guess our story wasn't as far fetched as we believed it once to be.

She focused her intense glare on Meg and I, it seemed to burn through our skin, like acid, searching for that she came for.

"Come Meg, it is late." She spoke harshly. Not wanting to infuriate her mother any more than she obviously had, she stood up and walked over to her. I followed quickly behind, acting like the proper host and seeing my guest out. She turned back to look at me.

"He seems wonderful." She grabbed my hand and whispered in my ear.

"He is." She embraced me, and then turned Erik.

"It was a pleasure monsieur." She bowed her head slightly, and then followed her mother out of Erik's home.