A/N: Thanks to my beta, Olethros.

Erik: the Vampire Hunter - The Continuing Adventures

Episode 7

By: Elektra

The sound of many-legged insects echoed throughout the Populaire's corridors. Their master, currently a humanoid-shaped biped, guided his charges without hesitation. They knew to follow him, and only him.

This is where it was. This was where the source of power lay – the thing that had woken them all from sleep. The source was not here right now, but it would be back.

He would just have to wait until then to do what needed to be done.

Elsewhere

Mikey Hall laughed as his friends dragged the fourteen-year-old boy through his father's funeral parlor and yanked the black mask off the skeletal face, "This is the perfect place for him - with the other corpses!"

Mikey led the group into the chapel and went up to the coffin lying on the dais then flipped open the lid and gagged, "Ugh, no wonder it's a closed casket. The gal's missing half her face." He glanced towards his captive, "Still looks better than the freak. Toss him in. The service is gonna start in a few hours."

The restrained boy struggled to get free, but Mikey had brought four reinforcements to prevent that from happening.

"When you think of it, this is the closest to a woman you're gonna get," Mikey indicated the body.

"Like it matters. Freak hasn't even hit puberty yet!" One of Mikey's accomplices said. "You've seen him in the changeroom. Everyone else's got the hair but him. I doubt he's capable of doin' it!"

"It would be gross if he got turned on by a corpse anyway," another accomplice spoke.

"Ugh… don't even go there!" Mikey protested. "Bad enough he LOOKS like one!"

Young Erik Garner soon found himself face down on top of the dead thing in the casket, the lid coming down hard and leaving him in claustrophobic darkness with a female corpse.

Erik tried to push the lid open with his back, but a click of a lock prevented it. He listened carefully to the sound of retreating footsteps.

The body beneath him was cold and unmoving, and it smelled strange. There was no air. He couldn't breathe. The walls of the casket were closing in.

Erik began to hyperventilate, his stomach heaving what little lunch he had had, which only added to the smell.

Erik could have sworn the woman was mocking him with her closed eyes and shredded face. Was she laughing too? Did she think this skinny gangly living corpse was where he belonged?

He began to bang desperately against the lid, hoping to budge it just a little, but only succeeded in exhausting himself.

Was it getting warm in here? No. The body was still so very cold.

Dizzy. He was so dizzy.

"Let me out…" he whispered softly. "Please let me out…"

There was no one to hear him. He collapsed atop the dead thing and cried himself to sleep.

Erik's eyes shot open.

There was a female body resting against his own.

Something was different this time, however - the body was no longer cold and lifeless. It was warm and soft. Beautiful and breathing. And it smelled like apples.

Erik brushed a golden curl off his companion's forehead, looking upon the face resting against his chest – an angelic face, flushed and full of life.

He closed his eyes and took several slow, deep breaths.

At least something good had come out of being locked in a casket with a corpse – it had cured his claustrophobia permanently. The fact that it had also completely and utterly desensitized him to death did not matter.

How long had it taken to claw his way through the satin lining of the coffin and kick out the lid? Too long. He had felt the casket lowering to the ground, had heard the plunk of fresh dirt falling atop the lid.

Amazing how one could find inhuman reserves of strength when the alternative was being buried alive.

Erik's dark memories were interrupted as soft curves and slender limbs arched against his body.

"Christine?"

"Hmmm?" Christine Daaé's lovely blue eyes fluttered opened, "Erik? Did I wake you?"

Erik felt his reprehensible body involuntarily respond to the girl, "If you continue moving like that, you will wake something else…"

He could see her cheeks flushing in the darkness. "Erik! I was just trying to get comfy,"

"You feel far too good to be getting 'comfy'," he said as he slid a hand up a willowy thigh, brushing over the skimpy boyshorts that barely covered her.

"What is it?" Christine asked, concerned with the tension she could feel in his body.

"Sweet Christine…" he began as one bony finger slipped beneath her thin shoulder strap. "Your Erik just dreamt about something unpleasant from his childhood. He was only grateful to wake up and find YOU." He slowly slid the strap down and brushed his lips over her revealed shoulder, "I'm in shameful need of human contact at the moment."

Christine gently tangled her fingers into his hair, "Then you're lucky the theatre is dark tomorrow."

Populaire – Three days later

He slunk through the rotting corridors and infested dorms of the Populaire. This part of the building had not been used in years and had fallen into horrible disrepair.

Through the walls, he could hear the shuffling of rats and the squirming of insects. His multi-legged family members made their homes here. However, as he closed his eyes and his mind searched out the bipeds that wandered freely above, he knew not all of them appreciated these creatures.

He sensed one in particular. Female. She had a fear of his many-legged friends. A horrible, paralyzing fear.

Perhaps she only needed to meet them…

"Are you sure Oren is Orpheus?" Christine asked as she and Erik studied Oren from the catwalk. It was the only place they could have privacy to discuss and observe the man in question. "I mean… shouldn't he be dead?"

"A lot of things should be dead that are not," Erik replied. "As the stories go, he was torn to death by Dionysus' female followers for not worshipping him as he once did."

"Talk about taking rejection badly," Christine muttered, brushing away the twitch she felt on her cheek. "Must have been a nasty way to die."

Erik nodded, "All that remained of him was his head. Considering the fact that he was here a few months ago with Martine, I will hazard to guess she had something to do with his resurrection."

"Well, it's not like she hasn't resurrected things in the past," Christine said, absently scratching at her bare arm. Why did her skin tingle suddenly? And why was the feeling steadily increasing?

Christine glanced down at her arms, and froze. One spider after another had begun to land on her, crawling on her clothing, under her shirt, in her hair.

She screamed and tried desperately to shake them off. Erik saw her plight and attempted to help the best he could. The little creatures would not be shaken off so easily though.

"Get them off. Off! Please! OFF!" she cried out.

Erik's eyes darted around, trying to figure out where they were coming from, but he saw no source. Christine's screaming grew hysterical, but the insects would not leave her alone.

Suddenly, the spiders disappeared, leaving Christine sobbing and hyperventilating.

Erik quickly gathered her up as her legs gave out on her, carrying her to a stair at the far end of the catwalk and allowing her to curl up in his lap as he sat down. "Shh, hush now…" he spoke softly, soothingly stroking her hair, "They're gone. All gone…" She clenched her fingers into his shirt, pressing her face against his neck.

Out of the corner of his eye, Erik saw a flash of red hair, "Loki! Did YOU do this to her?" he growled angrily.

"Hmpf!" Loki replied, insulted. "I am the one who made them go away!" He studied Christine carefully, "Do you dislike spiders?" Christine responded by wrapping her arms around Erik's neck and curling herself tighter against him.

"I do not blame you," Loki continued, "Hideously ugly things, they are. I imagine the very THOUGHT of something so repulsive touching your body would make you retch." Though Christine didn't seem to notice, Loki's backhanded insult was obvious to Erik, earning Loki a low growl from the masked man.

"A shame," Loki said quickly, brushing away Erik's response. "I don't think you will like the latest visitor to the Populaire,"

"And who would that be?" Erik demanded as he soothingly stroked Christine's back.

"A fellow trickster named Anansi. He has an unnatural attachment to insects." Loki replied distastefully as he stomped on a leftover spider. "And he is invading my turf!"

Erik slid Christine off his lap and bolted towards Loki, grabbing him by the tunic and lifting the smaller man off the ground, "When did this become YOUR turf, you beak-nosed moronic miscreant?" he growled.

Loki offered an arrogant sniff, "At least I HAVE a nose…"

Erik let out an angry roar, tossing Loki away from him. "I am the Opera Ghost! This is MY theatre!"

"Pardon my intrusion then, masked sir," a deep voice spoke from the shadows.

The three turned to see a figure dark as midnight and as tall as Erik step into the faint light that illuminated the catwalk. His eyes were solid black as he looked upon the group before him.

Christine paled as she saw the spiders surrounding his feet and quickly stumbled over to her fiancé. Erik wrapped his arms around her, as intent on keeping her upright as he was to offer comfort.

"You do not like my family members, young Miss?" the newest arrival asked. He let out a disappointed sigh, "Alas, I had hoped coming face to face with them would change your mind. I see it has only made you worse forwear,"

Loki stepped forward, a frown upon his face, "I'm the theatre's resident trickster! You have no place being here!"

Anansi raised a dark eyebrow as he studied the shorter creature, "I do not plan to stay, fool. I only wish to know who woke me."

Anansi waved his hand towards Loki, and the latter soon found himself surrounded by spiders, crawling over his legs and up his torso. "What is THIS for?" he demanded angrily.

"I do not like your looks," Anansi answered. He walked up to Erik, but respectfully prevented his so-called family members from getting close to Christine.

"Was it you who woke me?" He asked of Erik. "You, who have been referred to as the Angel of Music? Yes, I have heard of such a tale."

He cocked his head to the left, brow furrowed, "But… you are not an angel at all, are you masked sir? You are closer to a demon." Anansi then glanced over at Christine, "You are the angel."

"What? Oh no… I… I'm no angel," she replied nervously.

"Well, perhaps not literally, as you are only mortal. But I sense you are the opposite of the one in the mask."

"I do not think you would find disagreement with that assessment," Erik replied. "However, if you are looking for the one who woke you, my research has led me to believe it was a creature named Orpheus," he pointed down to the stage, "The boy with the gold and black hair."

Anansi leaned over the railing to see the ancient minstrel in question currently speaking to a few members of the corps de ballet on the stage below them, though they seemed more interested in his form fitting clothing than the words coming out of his mouth. "I suppose he is the one I should thank then,"

"Thank?"

Anansi looked back at Christine, "He not only woke me up, but my wife as well. I have missed her." He then glanced back at Loki, "I was quite sure YOU had a wife too, Loki."

Loki frowned, distracted as he tried desperately to shake the spiders off his person. "Sigyn is around. Somewhere. Probably back in Asgard."

"That you would not wish to be with her is rather surprising," Anansi replied, disapproval clear in his voice.

Loki shrugged, "I'm having far too much fun here." He then turned to Erik and Christine, "Did you know those little ballerinas actually DO believe I am Oren's talent manager? They have offered me… favours… in return for my guidance."

"Ah, no wonder you wish him gone," Anansi said to Erik. "Hardly worthy of being awoken, if you ask me."

"No one asked you!" Loki snapped.

"I don't suppose you could take him with you?" Erik asked Anansi.

"If I could ease your burden, I would. But I think I would end up killing him after a short while." Anansi shrugged, "And I am sure you have heard what happens when gods start to kill other gods. It is not a good thing for mortals."

Saying nothing more, he leapt over the rail of the catwalk and floated gracefully onto the stage below, startling everyone around him.

"How did he do that?" Christine asked.

Erik reached over the railing and felt the invisible silky strings that led all the way down to the stage. "A web."

Christine shuddered at that, but said nothing as the two watched Anansi speak to Oren, making excited gestures with his hands as a large smile appeared on his face.

Neither of them bothered to pay attention to Loki, currently fuming as he continued to try and rid himself of Anansi's family members.

"I hope he is not revealing too much," Erik replied. "It would prove rather disturbing for our ballerinas. It is enough they fear ghosts."

"Hello? I'm still covered in spiders here!" came Loki's voice.

Christine glanced over at him, "You got rid of the ones on me. What's the problem?"

"Every time I get rid of them, they keep coming back," Loki muttered.

Erik scowled at Loki, then looked back at the politer trickster below. "I suppose you will just have to wait until our guest goes home then."

66 Laramie Dr. – three days later

Martine sat in her room, candles lit around her. She closed her eyes, and thought on what was happening with Oren as of late. Her waking of him had apparently woken others of his kind, and to top it all off, he claimed a voice in his head had been causing him high levels of distress.

Martine didn't know how it had happened, but she knew exactly whose voice Oren was hearing.

How could he come back? How could he enter his old body and make his presence so clear to the current occupant?

And how was she going to get rid of him?

She grabbed a nearby book and began to flip through it.

After several minutes, Martine finally found the spell that might free Oren of his unwanted guest. She began to read the incantation slowly and carefully, for she had never attempted such a thing before.

Still, Martine Robichaux was confident in her power and skills.

She repeated the words until the candles burnt down, then closed the book and stood up to stretch.

Now it was time to check on Oren.

She headed towards his room and knocked on the door gently, "Oren?"

"Yes?" came the answer.

"Are you well? I… I have not heard from you for a few hours."

"I am fine, Martine."

Martine furrowed her brow. It was the first time Oren had not used the term Lady. It was not that she cared either way, but respectfully prefixing everyone's name was something that was distinctly him.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. I am just tired suddenly."

Martine took a deep breath, "Very well. If you need anything, I am down the hall."

"Thank you."

Martine nodded to the closed door and walked away, pretending not to notice that Oren's light lilting voice had suddenly grown deeper.

End of Episode 7