This chapter is, dare I say it, a little more to the softer side at some points. As romance is my secondary genre, I'd always planned to introduce it sooner or later. I think most of you will appreciate it, as it's of the subtler variety. For those who are enjoying the suspense, there will always be plenty of that. The story will forever keep its darker tone. I'm afraid that saying anything else would be giving too much away :) Hope you enjoy! As always, thanks for your wonderful support!

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After eating a light breakfast of cereal, Christine spent the following morning on a leather sofa, flipping through a large book of Renaissance paintings. The sleepless night had left her drained, and the vivid colors bled together in front of her tired eyes. Although the intense headache had passed, she still felt a lingering throb in her temples. The hundreds of thoughts racing through her mind made her feel even worse. Worries over Raoul meshed with a strange desire to please and console Erik. Thoughts of escape competed with curiosity as to her anticipated singing career. Fear fought with intrigue, and anxiety battled with a vague peacefulness.

Although Christine knew he was awake, Erik had not emerged from his room all morning. The piano played a somber melody at one point, which was followed by a lively piece with a quicker tempo. Christine swore she heard his voice several times, speaking in a hushed whisper over what she presumed to be the phone. She refrained from eavesdropping, for Erik always seemed to sense her nearness. Sometimes, he almost seemed superhuman.

Christine flinched as she heard his angry voice from the bedroom, grateful that he had not used that tone with her in some time. "They will comply," he stated with dangerous certainty. His voice faded again, leaving her unsurely gazing toward the closed door. Suppressing her building curiosity, she twirled a strand of blonde hair on her index finger and looked blankly back to the book. A large printing of The Last Supper lay in front of her, and she idly admired the intricate details of the apostles around the table.

She slightly turned her head as the door finally clicked open, knowing that Erik was coming up behind her. Although his footsteps were silent, she could almost feel his strange presence approaching her.

"I had forgotten I owned that book," Erik stated, hovering over her and glancing down to the painting. "That style often bored me, although Judas' expression is rather memorable."

Christine tensed for a moment, wondering if he was hinting at something. Surely he could not know about the letter...

Erik walked around the sofa to face her. To her relief, she could see no malice in his eyes. "Did you sleep well?" he enquired with genuine interest. "Has your headache passed?"

"Yes. I feel fine now. Yesterday was just exhausting"

"I imagine it would have been. But it is good that your health has improved. We will begin rehearsing soon." His eyes intensified with excitement. "I believe that I have secured your first performance. Only minor details must still be worked out."

"Really?" she asked, quickly placing the heavy book to the side. Her heart quickened. "When is it? Where?"

He smiled behind the mask. "I see you are excited. Excellent. There is an award's banquet next week, mostly for local entertainment and such. Some well-known directors and producers will be attending, however, as they enjoy throwing their names around and mingling as often as possible. Entertainment will be provided at the event, of which you will be a short part of."

"But..." She averted her eyes to the ground. "That's such a large jump. I don't think I'm ready for that."

"Christine. I have repeatedly told you to refrain from doubting yourself. You are more than ready. Do not worry about impressing these people. Most of them are asinine idiots, merely there to congratulate each other on their pointless accomplishments. Still, you will be required to expose yourself to such people. And they will love you, Christine. I guarantee they will adore you."

"All right," she softly agreed, although a tension was already building inside of her. "I'll do it. You'll prepare me for it?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed, clasping his bony hands together. "You will be perfectly prepared. Do not worry about such things."

Christine hesitated but kept eye contact. "Where is it?"

Erik indifferently waved his hand to the side. "The ballroom of a hotel somewhere. The Sheraton, I believe? Nowhere of any great importance." He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a white card. "Here is an invitation."

She slowly took it from him and looked down, frowning slightly as she saw that it was addressed to an unfamiliar name. How had he managed to get this? The white placard was trimmed with gold, and the writing was done in ornate calligraphy. "It's in a week," she murmured.

"Which will give us plenty of time to prepare," he replied. "I would begin our practices immediately, but there is some business that I must attend to first. This evening, I must run a brief errand. I would prefer if you accompanied me."

Christine eagerly nodded, knowing she didn't have much choice in the matter anyway. "Yes. I'd like to get out for a while."

"Very good, then." Erik studied her a moment longer, and she uncomfortably looked away from his gaze. With a short nod, he returned to his room again and closed the door. The piano rang out from behind the walls.

An odd feeling settled in the pit of Christine's stomach. She brushed the sensation away and forced herself to focus. Another chance of escape was slowly presenting itself. Still, she didn't know her way around the enormous city. Trying to find her way out would be impossible and dangerous. Guilt also encompassed her. Erik was generously handing her a dream that some people would do anything to obtain. The incredibility of it was not lost to her.

Christine closed her eyes in thought. Even if she wasn't ready to run away, she desperately wanted to meet with Raoul before he left. He was the only one who had any idea as to where she was, really her only anchor to the rest of the world. Seeing him at the hospital had been an enormous comfort. Maybe meeting with him again would help her to clear her jumbled mind. Lost among the dinner crowds at the hotel, they would not be noticed by anyone if they met before or after her performance. It might be her last chance to speak to him before he departed for Aspen, even if she could only give him the most scant details of her situation.

With a swallow, she quickly strode back into her bedroom and shut the door, taking one last glance around the sitting room to ensure that Erik wasn't watching. Christine opened the drawer of her night stand and took out the folded letter. Picking up the pen, she looked down at her earlier words. They still sounded confused. She quickly tore the letter into several pieces and stuffed the shreds of paper into a drawer. Taking out a second sheet of floral stationary, she wrote another message.

Dear Raoul,

First, I wanted to apologize for what I last said to you. The words weren't true, but I wasn't able to explain at that time. I really want to see you before you leave. Meet me next Friday on January 2 at the Sheraton lobby. There will be a banquet of some kind, but please stay out of sight. I'll come find you when I can.

Your friend,

Christine

She copied the address and time from the fancy invitation onto the bottom of the letter. Hands shaking and one eye always on the closed door, Christine stuffed the note into an envelope and sealed it. Her heart beat rapidly, and her palms were sweaty. Several times, she reconsidered the dangerous actions. How else would she ever see her friend again, though? Raoul was her last connection.

Putting her old Vermont street number as the return address, Christine realized that she still needed Raoul's address. The task was becoming more and more daunting. Somehow, she would have to procure a phonebook and find a post office box. She didn't even know if Erik would allow her out of the car that evening.

Christine looked down at the sealed envelope. She would simply have to tuck the letter inside of her thick winter coat and see if any opportunities presented themselves. Risking her freedom to mail the letter would be foolish. Maybe fate would cut her a break that night.

Throughout the entire car ride that evening, Christine was edgy. The sharp corner of the manila envelope was constantly poking her in the stomach, and she was always glancing down to make sure that it hadn't emerged from beneath her coat. Fortunately, Erik took little notice of her mannerisms, occasionally making comments about the city or her career. He pointed out some of the buildings and parks, seeming more at ease than he usually was.

As he spoke in a pleasant tone, a heavy feeling of guilt continued to weigh down upon her. But it wasn't as if she were trying to escape. She wanted to see her friend. And Erik was the one who had kidnaped her! Christine wearily gazed out the window at the looming buildings and rows of shops. The winter sun had almost set, and all the streetlights had now come on. A crescent moon shown down from the sky, its glow breaking through the lights of the city. Patches of snow dusted the streets and sidewalks.

"Someday you will get a tour," Erik stated, watching her gaze out the window. "Although I have grown rather bored with the area, I imagine it is still stunning to you."

She looked up and weakly smiled. "I would like to see more of it. It's enormous. I've always wanted to visit, but we never really had the money to travel much."

Erik nodded. "It has been a sort of haven in more than one way. Getting lost within the crowds is certainly no difficult task." He paused. "The city can be a very desolate place, too."

Christine craned her neck and looked out at some of the tall apartment complexes. Windows were lighting up as people returned home for the evening. So many people... "I guess it would get kind of lonely," she murmured. "If you didn't know anyone."

"Indeed it would," he softly replied, gazing at her in that strange way. "If you had no one."

She bit her lip and shifted, almost wincing as the envelope corner jabbed her in the ribs again. Before Christine could think of a reply, the car suddenly swerved into the entrance of an office complex. Most of the lights were still on, and the silhouettes of employees milled about through the curtained windows. Squinting in the dim light, Christine thought she saw a sign say something about studio offices. The car pulled off to the side and into a patch of darkness away from the street lamps. Still, they were not that far from the entrance.

Through the glass doors and windows, Christine could vaguely make out an office of some kind. A receptionist sat at the front, her attention focused downward. They would almost definitely have a telephone book and post office box. The distance up the sidewalk and to the front doors was not far, mere meters. Her heart pounded, and she swallowed.

"I will return shortly," Erik stated, opening his door. "No more than thirty minutes. Instruct the driver to turn down the heat if you become too warm. You may also listen to music."

"Wait!" she exclaimed, more loudly and eagerly than she meant to. Erik turned and gazed at her in obvious surprise. "I...I feel a little funny from the drive. My headache has come back. Could I go into the restroom? I'll come right back to the car. I promise."

Erik stared at her for a moment. "You are ill?" he asked with concern. "Do you need to return?"

"No, Erik. I think I'll be fine. I need to get out for a moment. Maybe the fresh air will help." Another pang of guilt ran through her.

He slowly nodded. "Very well. Do not make yourself noticed. I will return soon."

"I'll be here when you get back," she replied, feeling relief overtake her. "I promise."

Erik nodded again and was gone within an instant, disappearing into the deep shadows that lined the building. As far as Christine could see, he had not entered through the front doors. He was simply gone.

Pulling the handle of her side door, Christine found it to be unlocked. Stepping out of the car, she walked quickly up the dark sidewalk and to the lighted front doors, clutching her stomach for effect. Although she didn't think that Erik would be watching, one could never be sure. Her eyes darted around nervously.

Walking into the building, she quickly glanced around. The receptionist sat typing at a computer and paid her no attention. Various artificial plants lined the sides of the office, and the walls were cluttered with posters announcing upcoming performances and auditions. To Christine's relief, a phonebook and payphone sat in a nook inside of the wall.

Dashing over, she opened the White Pages, flipped to the C's, and began scanning the long list of names with her index finger. Chaffrey. Chafon. Chaggs. Chaines. She swallowed and checked again. Raoul wasn't listed. Maybe it really wasn't a surprise, considering the number of people who would attempt to get money out of the wealthy family.

Christine thought for a moment, wondering if she should give up and return to the car while she still could. Another idea suddenly occurred to her. Picking up the book of yellow pages, she quickly flipped to the investment and brokerage section. Right in front of her was the headquarters of the Chagny firm, accompanied by a giant advertisement. If she sent the letter there, maybe it would find its way to Phillip. Surely, he would give it to his younger brother. Christine hesitated, knowing that it was a long shot...but it was her only shot.

With a resigned sigh, she picked up the chained pen by the telephone and took the envelope out from beneath her coat. As quickly as possible, she addressed the letter to the firm and rushed over to the front desk. The elderly receptionist glanced up and eyed her over a pair of thick glasses. "Can I help you, ma'am?" she asked in a nasally voice.

Christine swallowed and clutched the envelope. "Would you mind mailing this for me? Or is there a post office box somewhere?"

The lady looked at the letter. "There's one next to the door. But you're going to need a stamp before that gets anywhere."

Christine froze. How could she have been so stupid? "Oh. I...don't have one," she murmured. A look of distress twisted her features.

"Do you have thirty-nine cents?" the woman asked, obviously seeing her dismayed expression. "I have some stamps up here."

She shook her head. "No. I don't have any money. It's kind of an emergency. I have to get this out today. Please."

The receptionist tilted her head. "All right. I'll do it for you." She squinted. "You look a little sick, ma'am. Is everything all right?"

Christine nodded, worried about the time that was quickly passing by. "I'm fine. Just...thank you for doing this. Thank you so much!"

The receptionist nodded and took the letter. "All right. Have a good evening."

"You, too. Thanks again!" Christine raced out the doors and into the cold night air, ignoring the odd look that the receptionist gave her. It was done. Whatever happened now was in fate's hands. Opening the door of the black vehicle, she scooted inside and saw that he hadn't returned. Her door locked again, and she relaxed under the warmth of the heater.

Erik appeared about ten minutes later, quickly opening the door and climbing inside. He leaned back into the seat as the car pulled forward. "That went surprisingly well," he stated, although she couldn't tell if he was talking to her or himself. A malicious glint shone from his eyes, and Christine couldn't help wondering what he had done in there. "Everything has been arranged for your performance. All you must do now is sing."

She weakly smiled, feeling relieved that he knew nothing of her visit inside. "Great. Thank you...for all of this."

His eyes glowed. "Of course, Christine." He turned to face her. "Are you still ill?"

"No," she quickly responded, wringing her hands. "I feel fine now. The fresh air helped."

"Very good, then." Erik turned to the front. "Let us have some music," he called. "Mozart, maybe."

A light-hearted classical composition soon filled the backseat. Erik relaxed again, his head slightly tilted back onto the headrest. Christine leaned back as well, listening to the soft sound of the piano and staring out into the night. She felt oddly at peace as well. Was it because she had safely gotten the letter delivered? That was certainly a part of it. But also, a calmness had come over her, a strange feeling of belonging. Or perhaps she had simply run out of adrenaline.

They arrived back in what seemed like a short time. Christine almost didn't want to leave the serene atmosphere of the car, reluctantly opening her door and stepping outside. Erik walked ahead of her this time, keeping a quick but relaxed stride. She followed, always eager to get away from the decrepit streets. Had Erik's home not been so well hidden, she would have feared someone breaking into it.

Entering, she brushed her windblown hair out of her face and began to make her way back to the bedroom. The stress over the letter had started to bring back the headache. "Wait," he softly commanded.

She turned. "Yes, Erik?"

"Although it is too late to rehearse, perhaps you could begin choosing a song. There is a variety that would suit you." He disappeared for a second and returned with a stack of music sheets in his hand. "You may glance at them and decide before tomorrow."

Christine slowly reached out and took them from him. Looking down, she saw a wide variety of songs... from simpler arias, to Broadway tunes, to hymns. Most of them were familiar and did indeed match her voice. "Thank you. I'll look through them tonight." She looked up to see the yellow orbs still gazing at her. Christine's face grew uncomfortably warm. Several of the music sheets fell from her trembling hand, floating down onto the floor. "Oh!" She bent down and quickly picked them up, her cheeks still tingling. "I guess I'm tired tonight."

"Maybe you are nervous?" he enquired with a tone of amusement. "Do not be, Christine. You will do wonderfully. I will be watching the entire time."

Shuffling the music together, she turned to go back to her bedroom. "No," she replied in a rush. "Tired, I think. But thanks. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Christine."

She scrambled back into her room, quickly shutting the door behind her. After carelessly dropping the music onto the dresser, Christine jumped onto her bed and lay down. Her heart continued its steady thud, loudly pounding inside of her ears. Running a hand through her thick hair, Christine attempted to calm down and find clarity.

However, she was not forced to dwell on her strange thoughts and feelings that evening. Before she could even consider the chaotic whirl of emotions, a new realization slammed into her. A terrible realization.

You will do wonderfully. I will be watching the entire time.

Erik meant to come to her performance. She hadn't expected him to attend such a social event. How could he with the mask? He barely left the apartment, always enshrouded in shadows when he did go out. Yet, she should have at least considered it. Erik was going to be there-watching her as he always did.

Raoul was likely going to be there. The letter had already been sent. Nothing could be done.

The entire night would be a dangerous game of hiding, running, and lying.

If she didn't figure everything out soon, someone was going to be hurt.