Thanks for being patient, everyone! It turns out that I needed surgery to correct the damage on my hand and without the use of my right hand typing takes extra long. ;)

We've just about reached the crescendo...I hope you guys like it!

I apologize for taking so long! Bear with me!

-Nico

This chapter resumes at Athena's entrance into Christine's rooms... all I'm going to say is...you guys need to trust Erik's instincts...

;)

M. Firmin narrowed his eyes at the breathtaking woman still standing in the entryway of Christine's quarters.

There was something about her that frightened the portly manager down to his bones.

"What do you know of the Phantom?" Firmin asked, watching as the woman's eyes darkened slightly at the mention of the opera ghost.

Athena inspected a gloved hand, appearing bored. "More than you would think," she told the room of men. "And I shall help you find him immediately, under one condition."

"He's been evading us for years, Madame," Andre said, rolling his eyes. "What makes you so certain you'll be able to find him?"

Athena smiled. "I can only promise you that if you agree to my condition that you will have your precious phantom."

"What is your condition?" Firmin asked, intrigued.

Athena's dark eyes flashed up at him. "I wish to be the one that kills him."

Several of the armed guards laughed at her request.

"Am I amusing you, gentlemen?" Athena demanded.

"Madame," Andre began tiredly. "While I appreciate your willingness to assist us in this particular situation, I do not believe anyone would grant a woman the right to kill someone. Even if it is the Phantom in question."

Athena nodded. She had suspected these pig-headed men would react as such.

"Very well," she said lowly. "I came here to allow you all to take part in finding Erik. I know how incredibly important it is to all of you. However, I suppose I will have to take care of this particular matter myself."

She placed the hood back atop her curls and smiled. "Good night, gentlemen. Try not to be too disappointed when I accomplish what none of you have yet been able to."

The men watched as Athena swept out of the room, her stride purposeful.

Firmin looked at Andre.

"Who's Erik?" He wondered aloud.

Christine looked over her shoulder from the driver's bench of the black carriage Erik had stolen from the Opera Populaire. She was certain that any moment, a barricade of police and angry Opera personnel would appear behind them.

But as Erik deftly navigated the cobblestoned streets of Paris, no such mob appeared. As they came to the outskirts of the city, Christine finally allowed herself to look forward instead of back.

"I think that we did it," Christine said, looking to her left, where Erik was concentrating on leading the enormous black stallions that pulled the carriage. "I think we escaped."

"They will continue to search for us," Erik told her, his voice slightly tense. "We are not safe yet."

Christine nodded and bit her lip. "Where are we going, Erik?"

"To the cemetery," he said without missing a beat. "We will speak to your father."

Christine blinked. "Father?" She questioned. "Why will he be at the cemetery?"

Erik looked over at her, a small smirk on his lips. "That's usually where you find people in his condition, my darling."

Christine swatted his arm.

"I assume Charles will realize we had to leave the Opera," Erik continued. "And I'm hoping he'll be able to enlighten us as to what to do next."

"I thought you had a plan," Christine said.

"I do," Erik replied, looking over at her with an expression caught between a smile and anxiety. "This is it."

A nervous clutching sensation tore at Christine's stomach. Would she and Erik ever be free to enjoy a life of security…to love each other without fear of persecution?

At the moment, the answer to that question appeared to be a resounding 'no.'

In less than 15 minutes, Erik navigated the carriage to the rear entrance to the cemetery, hiding the bulky mode of transportation behind some particularly large stone monuments.

"Don't you think we should just keep going?" Christine asked as Erik helped her down from her seat.

Erik shook his head. "I will not let anything happen to you, Christine," he told her, drawing her into his arms. "And the only way I can be certain where to go from here is to confer with your father. He has not led me wrong yet."

Christine's brow furrowed in fear. Erik kissed the wrinkles away.

"I know you wish to continue running, Christine," he told her. "But something in my heart tells me that we need to be here."

Christine nodded. "I trust your instincts, Erik."

He smiled briefly and then took her small hand, leading her down familiar passageways throughout the cemetery until the enormous Daae mausoleum came into sight.

Christine's breath caught in her throat. So many of her sleepless nights had been spent on the steps of her father's tomb, weeping onto the polished stone. As she got closer, she could see the last bouquet of flowers she had placed against the tightly sealed doors, now withered and dying.

Erik squeezed her hand in a reassuring manner. "Call to him," the masked man instructed her softly.

Christine nodded, swallowing against the lump that threatened to overwhelm her voice. "Papa?" She called out timidly. "Papa, are you there?"

The swirl of mist that immediately followed Christine's question began to take shape slowly. At first, relief swelled through Christine's body as she assumed that the magical smoke would eventually materialize into her father's familiar form…but after several moments, both she and Erik realized that something was terribly wrong.

Instead of Charles, the form of an unfamiliar man began to take shape. Christine clutched Erik's arm as she took in the man's short, dark hair…his impressive black clothing…and finally, the obsidian eyes that were staring at her with an expression hovering somewhere between amusement and threat.

Erik smoothly moved Christine behind his body, blocking her from potential harm. "Who are you?" Erik demanded loudly. "What do you want?"

"Hello Erik," the man said cordially. "You've been causing quite an uproar in my neck of the woods lately. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

The stranger extended his hand for Erik to grasp.

Erik did not move, his eyes remaining narrowed. "Where is Charles?" He demanded.

The man laughed. "That foolish ghost has done nothing but lead you into trouble for the past several months. I can't imagine why you would want to see him again."

Erik remained silent.

The man sighed. "Very well," he sighed. "I can see that we're not going to get anywhere until you see your precious Charles."

With a flick of his delicate wrist, the man suddenly produced another apparition by his side, this time in the form of Charles, kneeling and bound by fluttery, gold chains that appeared to be not of this world.

"Papa!" Christine shrieked, making an instinctive lunge for her father. Erik's strong arm came out, gently pulling her back. "Let him go!" She shrieked, trying to free herself from Erik's grasp.

"Christine, don't worry about me!" Charles said. "Just get out of here!"

The stranger looked down at Charles. "I knew I was forgetting something," he said. With another fluid gesture, a gag appeared in Charles's mouth, rendering him silent save a few fruitless grunts of frustration.

"Who are you?" Christine demanded, her anger over seeing her father bound and gagged overwhelming the sense of reason telling her to remain silent.

The man rolled his eyes and allowed his head to fall back in aggravation. "With all the stories you humans make up about me and how perfectly terrible I am, you would think you'd recognize me when you saw me."

He looked at Christine and Erik and then sighed again. "Alright, alright," the man said. "But just this once."

In a flurry of smoke and flame, the handsome man suddenly transformed into a snarling, raging red beast, his sharp teeth bared and muscular arms poised for attack. His forked tongue darted over his chapped lips and a thin, red, rat-like tail twitched impatiently behind him.

"Do you recognize me now?" The beast roared.

Christine clutched at Erik. "The Devil," she rasped.

As soon as the identification was correctly made, the man transformed back to his more human appearance. "Pretty impressive, no?" He asked, adjusting his already perfect cravat.

"What do you want?" Erik demanded.

The Devil's eyebrows shot up. "What makes you think I want anything from you?" He asked.

Erik's brow furrowed, taken aback.

"No, no," the Devil shook his head. "I'm after a much bigger prize." He walked closer to the pair. "Did you know that pure evil is one of the most difficult things to find, let alone own?"

Erik and Christine remained silent, but listened.

"I have found pure evil," The Devil whispered. Then, looking pointedly at Erik added, "and I think that you're already well acquainted with it."

"What are you talking about?" Erik demanded through clenched teeth.

The Devil smiled. "Perhaps it would be best to let her explain," he said smoothly.

Both Erik and Christine watched as a figure draped in a crimson red cape emerged from behind the tomb. As the figure approached, it became apparent that it was female by the sway in her hips and the hint of bright red lipstick smeared across her lips.

The couple's wordless questions were answered as small, pale hands came up to gently push the hood back from her face.

"Oh my God," Christine whispered. "Athena."

Athena smiled at Erik and Christine. "Hello, darling husband," she said seductively. Then, moving her gaze to Christine added, "I'm glad to see you remember me."

Athena turned her attention to the Devil. "I think it would be best to kill her first," she said offhandedly, gesturing to Christine. "That way, the last thing Erik will hear before I kill him will be the death rattle of his precious Christine."