Act Two: Chapter Fourteen

Anywhere outdoors in late November would have made a strange place for a rendezvous: the rooftop of the opera was no exception. The lack of cloud cover made already frigid temperatures almost unbearable as we emerged from the service door to face a field of cold, distant stars.

I made my way across the roof, shivering as the wind began to pick up. I stepped away from Raoul to gaze up at the magnificent sculpture that lay ahead of me: Apollo, the god of music, holding his lyre above all Paris.

Erik had called me Persephone at our first meeting. I had already acknowledged our strange relationship parallel that of Hades and Persephone. But was there more? Erik was not Hades simply because he lived underground. He was Apollo as well. Even the beautiful god of music had pinned after women who would not have him. He was Orpheus and I recalled how passionately he had spoken about the Orpheus' fate before.

"Christine, wait," Raoul called after me, reminding me of his presence and my reason for bringing him up here. He gripped my hand and turned me to face him before quickly snaking his hands underneath my mask, holding my face on both sides. I wasn't aware how cold it was until Raoul's hands were pressed against my cheeks. Their warmth practically burned my chilled flesh. He drew close enough to share breath, looking straight into my eyes.

"Christine, I love you." Then the lips that had uttered those precious words were on my mouth. His kiss was soft, but fierce, as if he was containing himself. But his hands pressed harder against my cheeks and his fingers entwined themselves in my hair. Our masks pressed against each other and I wanted desperately to tear them off.

I love you.

I had heard those words spoken to me a dozen times before, but never before had they set my heart pounding like this. Raoul started to pull away and I attempted to stop him, desperately clasping one of his wrists and forcing it against my cheek. With my other hand I lifted my mask over my head. We stared at each other for a long moment, as if the cold night air had sucked the breath from us both.

"Forgive me but I had to say it. I had to let you know." Raoul finally spoke. "I love you Christine and I'm sorry if the way I acted before made you embarrassed or ashamed. I'm sorry for not making my affections known." He licked his lip and then brought his other hand back to my face, stroking the side of my cheek and neck affectionately. "I was afraid to make any proclamations, and felt at times that I was rushing into things. Acting foolish, like you said, and you seemed so eager to dismiss me." He leaned his forehead forward so that it touched mine. I felt his soft hair blown by the wind tickling the top of my head. "But I can't stay silent any longer. I love you Christine Daae. I want to marry you, that is, if you would have me for your husband." He titled his face up and pressed a kiss against my forehead.

I brought my arms to wrap around his waist and pressed against him. I wanted to have him hold me like that forever. Before, so cautious and worried about his display of affections, I kept my distance, even rebuked him. Now I didn't want to let him go.

"Christine."

It was not Raoul's voice that blew past my ear. I jerked my head up expecting to see someone else, my pounding heart becoming still. Perhaps it was simply the wind calling my name. I lifted my eyes to look at the statue of Apollo, tracing his black silhouette against the soft and clear sky.

"Christine." This time it was Raoul speaking. I looked back at him. His hand came down to my shoulders and pressed against them. "I love you and I want to protect you. I have to protect you."

I have to protect you.

Erik's words echoed within Raoul's. "So you must tell me why I have a stranger come to my house and tell me you are in danger. Telling me you're being kept prisoner." When I simply stared back at him in dumb frustration, he shook my shoulders lightly. "Tell me Christine." I gazed pointedly at the hands gripping me and Raoul dropped his arms.

"What stranger?" I asked. Then I thought of the dark skinned man who had swept me away from Erik. "The man in the cloak? The one who passed me off to you? Who was he?"

"That doesn't matter," he protested.

"Tell me! He called you a friend. Who was he?" I demanded.

"I'll tell you the truth of what I know so far. From what I've heard and what I've been told. And some of that truth that came from you was a lie. You been telling me you've been concerned for Genny's safety, but I think you were covering. You're the one in danger." His voice was cool as he spoke, as if scolding a child. "I'll tell you what I know, but you have to promise me to tell me the whole truth, in return."

He thought this a simple moment of quid pro quo, when in truth the gravity of the situation weighed against my frame. If I told him what I knew, the lives of my friends could be forfeit. Erik would surely retaliate against others instead of me for my betrayal. If I stayed silent, I still couldn't save them or myself and would lose the trust of my dearest friend.

"All right," I decided and felt all the weight in my body disappear. "Who was that man?"

Raoul guided us over to Apollo's lyre and made me sit against the stones. He took off his cloak and mask, the first of which he draped over my shoulders and bare arms, before taking a seat beside me and placing a warm hand over mine.

"He is known only as the Persian. Genny told me about him when she first entered the chorus. No one knows much about him except that he is a patron of the opera and is often seen there. I saw him occasionally in my box at the opera," he explained. I took this in, puzzled. I did not recall such a man and was quite certain someone of his particular features would have caught my attention after working in the opera for several months.

"However, I ran into him the opening night. Genny came to find me and asked me to come to your dressing room, but when we opened the door you weren't there. I was puzzled since Genny assured me she had left you there only a moment ago. Your day dress remained, but your costume was missing."

While I was flattered with flowers five levels below ground, my friends were wrapped up in the mystery of yet another of my strange disappearances.

"The Persian appeared as I turned to leave. He simply asked if I knew where you were and then left. It was all very strange. Imagine my surprise when he appeared at my townhouse a week later. Thankfully, Genny wasn't home. I'm sure she would have loved to start some silly gossip of her brother entertaining the mysterious Persian in his parlor," he said with a conspiratorial wink. "He introduced himself as the Daroga, a police inspector of his home nation. He, again, asked me about you. I explained that I was a good family friend with very strong feelings for you and that your strange disappearances worry me. I did my best to trust you, Christine. I wanted to."

He leaned his head against the statue. I noticed how his bright blond hair contrasted starkly with the dark stone.

"He then asked about your fortnight absence, after the production of Orpheus. When I told him what I knew of your time away, he told me bluntly that you were lying; that you never left the opera. At that point I wanted to toss him out of my house for being so impertinent, but wanted to know how he knew all of this. So I held myself in check and asked him to explain. He was very cryptic and said only that you were being held against your will by a man; a man who had power over you. He would not reveal this man's identity, which infuriated me. If what he said was true, I wanted to find you and this man. But he warned me I could not free you by force or it would mean …" He hissed in frustration and raked his fingers through his hair.

I sat in fascination, listening to him as if I was hearing about these strange circumstances for the first time. Yet I knew what these speculations would lead to.

"What would it mean?" I asked, already knowing the answer

Raoul glanced at me, an uncertain look in his eyes. "It would mean disaster for you and all of the opera," he said finally. "That I would have to ask you, and if you cared for me you would tell me the truth." He paused, reflecting on his words, and then he tried to laugh. "But that is ridiculous; just as ridiculous as this strange man telling me about these bizarre circumstances and then not revealing the whole truth. This man who knows nothing about us," his chuckle was forced and short.

But it was the truth. If I cared for Raoul, as he cared for me, I would tell him. I would tell him and I would have him trust me. At the same time, if I truly loved Erik, I could not tell Raoul anything. The wind whipped up again as I felt two opposing forces tear at me. It billowed underneath the cloak and my skirts. For a moment I wished the wind would simply lift me up and carry me away.

Raoul was growing suspicious of my silence. "He arranged this deception so I could find you at the ball. So I could speak to you. Christine, I will apologize every day for my actions before, and for now. For believing … no, accusing you of such things. But I trust you. Say this is not true and I will believe you. Say there is no other man and this is all a misunderstanding." His hands came back to my face and rested under my chin. I forced myself to look up at him and noticed a tear in the corner of his eye. His eyes were red, trying to fight off his fatigue and sadness. "Say you love me and will marry me and I'll believe anything you say," he pleaded.

I knew of heart break from a dozen descriptions in books. I had thought it only existed in fiction, but in that moment I felt it. It was as real as the cold stars above my head and the chilled stones beneath my feet. My heart felt as if an iron grip were squeezing it and dragging it down further into my body. It was a pain, both physical and emotional. I had cried many tears for Erik; felt his loneliness and pain reflected back on my person. I felt such great pity for my Maestro, knowing all the horrors he had suffered: enough pity to calm my initial fears of his face. Enough to bring me back to his side every night. I loved Erik.

But now my heart was breaking for Raoul.

It would be so easy. I could accept his proposal of marriage. I could make him take me anywhere. With his wealth and station we could live anywhere; half way across the world if I wanted. We could be happy and he would never have to know. I just had to lie once more.

I looked into Raoul's eyes and my resolve hardened. I was finished with lying.

"Raoul, what you heard is true," I said solemnly. "I have been kept prisoner by someone …"

He did not let me finish, jumping to his feet. The tears of sadness in his eyes turned quickly to rage. "No! Please, God, no!" He shouted directing his cry to the sky above. "Who is he Christine?" he demanded.

I remained as calm as possible. "He is the Phantom of the Opera," I said simply.

Again Raoul's expression rapidly changed. He looked at me in disbelief and then started to smile. "You're joking. Very funny, Christine."

"It is no joke," I hissed in protest. "The Phantom of the Opera—the Opera Ghost— is nothing more than a man. He is a man of flesh and blood. And I stay his prisoner only to keep you and everyone else from harm."

He stared at me, letting my words sink in. "Tell me it's not true," he whispered after a long pause.

It was now my turn to cry. "I wish it were not. But many things I have told you before were lies. This is the truth." I let the tears fall freely over my face. I raised my hands to brush them away and hide my shame. For a long time I didn't want to look at Raoul. I couldn't look at him. Finally I heard him sit back down beside me. His arms wrapped around my frame and I yielded to his embrace.

"When I first met him, I did not know his true identity," I started to speak in a strong voice ready to tell my tale. "I only knew him as my maestro. He was so...exceptionally kind to me that I did not suspect or question his motive for giving me music lessons for free. He prepared me to audition for the chorus. He inspired me with the courage and passion I did not have before; that I could not summon of my own accord."

"Your Maestro, he is the same one you spoke of to me before," Raoul asked with firm certainty in his tone. I nodded. I felt terrible knowing that the more I spoke—the more I confessed—the sooner he would discover the truths behind all my lies of before.

"However, the closing night after Orpheus everything changed. I insisted you drive me back to the opera, for I had borrowed the gown I wore for dinner from the wardrobe department and needed to return it. I came across Genny, walking through the corridors and saw a shade, a man dressed in black, following her. We ran. I pulled Genny away from him and we ran. She got out of the opera. I didn't."

Raoul gently squeezed my shoulders. "Yes, I remember that night. Genny came out, screaming in terror. We both went back in to look for you. But the door was locked. All the doors were locked," he explained.

I took a deep breath before continuing. "He took me to his home. I woke in a strange dwelling carved into the cellars of the opera. I then knew my Maestro for who he really was: the vengeful ghost who terrorizes the opera staff and blackmails the managers. He also arranges my singing career through fear and intimidation." I paused, feeling more salty teardrops fall over my cheeks. "He confessed that he loved me. That he fallen in love with me and was determined to keep me with him." I did not mention the fact that I had also made certain confessions in the house by the lake; that I had fallen in love with my Maestro as well. "So I stayed with him for a fortnight. I was too afraid to leave. I was afraid of what he would do to me or, worse, what he would do to others to get to me."

"Wait," Raoul stopped me. "Why does he live underground, aside from the fact that he is quite mad?"

I had not mentioned the mask and had to take a moment to steady myself. Soon Raoul would know that I chose to trust and give myself to a mad man with such a terrifying face. How I chose Erik's protection over my friend's trust.

"He wore a mask. It puzzled me at first, but I thought he must have been a veteran, scarred by war. One day, finally driven mad by my curiosity, I tore his mask away." My breath caught in my throat. I recalled the terrible face and the even greater terror in Erik's eyes when he knew I had seen him. Then I let out a loud moan.

The wind echoed the sound.

"He … he is horribly deformed. That is why he hides behind a mask. That is why he lives in a cellar beneath the earth. It is like a death's head. A skull brought to life. It is horrible. Horrible," I murmured. No amount of love could distort the truth. Erik's face frightened me.. In the past month I had tried so hard to put it at the back of my mind. I thought it was the only way I could live in the same house with him and still keep my sanity. But my efforts were in vain. The memory of when I had unmasked him played in my head like a waking nightmare.

"I finally managed to convince him to let me leave; to see Mamma Valerius. To my surprise he agreed, only if I promised to return to him if I were in danger. On the day of my audition I returned to my home." I thought with melancholy that I had not slept in a bed above ground for almost three months. I had been entombed in my own crypt. "That was the night I was attacked. When Frederich tried to rape me. When I ran away from him, I ran back to the opera." Raoul turned his head away from me. I knew what he was thinking. I had not come to him. "Erik found me and took me back to his home. He cared for me and dressed my wounds. When he pleaded for me to stay with him, I was so overcome with emotion and compassion that I agreed."

Raoul rounded his head back in my direction swiftly. "Erik. His name is Erik."

"Yes," I answered discomforted by his quick change in mood. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"I heard you speaking to a man inside your dressing room the night of the opening gala, when you disappeared again without a trace. Was that Erik?"

I gasped. Raoul had heard me. "Yes, but …"

"So you have feelings for him? You have compassion." He spat the word in my direction. The anger returned to his tone. "I have offered my help and my ... my heart to you Christine. And you have refused me every time. Yet you rather return to that ... that monster." His arms fell away and I felt lost without them. "You aren't afraid to leave. No, you want to stay. It seems to me you are madly in love with him."

"No," I protested.

"Then come away with me Christine. Let me free you from this monster. We can go to my estate in Brittany. All three of us if you like." He clasped his hands over mine. "Come away with me."

"I cannot," I said simply.

"Because you love him! Because you don't want me. You want him!" He challenged.

I pressed my hand over Raoul's mouth. I wanted to force his hateful words back inside. He did not know how they were tearing me apart.

"I cannot leave! Erik will kill you!" I shouted.

Again, the wind seemed to repeat the horrid phrase back to us. I shook my head as if I could deny those words.

"I thought I could leave once. But Erik found me. I wasn't even a block away from the opera before he caught me once more. He is everywhere I am. He will follow me and if I leave him, he will come after me. He will find me and he will kill anyone who gets in his way. Of this I am certain, my dear friend." I felt drained of breath and could have collapsed right there on the stones. Erik was insane and I risked harm and mortal danger to others if I dared to leave his side.

I was his prisoner.

I put my hand on the tails of Raoul's coat and formed a fist within the folds of the fabric. "There is one more thing," I started. "I have been pleading with you to take Genny away. Surely you too have noticed she has been acting strangely."

Raoul nodded in agreement. "You have spoken to me about her welfare, but it was just a cover. Your concern for Genny was really concern for yourself." Raoul lifted my face up with a cupped palm. "Genny is safe with us. It's you I'm worried about Christine."

I sighed. "Please just listen. You have to get Genny out of Paris." I licked my lips nervously. "You remember what she said about the Angel of Music?"

I didn't finish. Raoul gasped, "My God, it's not."

"It is him. The Opera Ghost and the Angel of Music are one in the same. Genny trusts him. I know Erik is powerful and can manipulate her. I think he already has. I don't just fear for your sister's sanity, Raoul, I fear for her life. You must convince her to leave the opera." The horror slowly drained from Raoul's eyes to be replaced with determination.

"Only if you come with us."

"We are all safer if I remain here with Erik."

His name resounded in my ear. I recalled my own words. He is everywhere I am. I stood up hastily. "I must go. It's not safe here."

Raoul did not let go of my hands. "I'm getting my carriage. We are leaving and you are coming with us," he insisted.

"Raoul."

He silenced my protest with another kiss. His strong fingers entwined in my hair while his other hand supported my neck. He pressed against me without restraint and I pressed back. I could have died right there; held by Raoul and safe from Erik.

He pulled away reluctantly. "Go find my sister," he said. Then we ran away from the shadow of Apollo and back down the winding stairs and catwalk to the grand foyer. We emerged at a side entrance one level above the foyer, glancing to each other before putting our masks back over our faces. Raoul swiftly brought my hand to his lips and pressed a hard kiss upon it.

"Christine," he whispered, before rushing toward the exit. I stood there for a moment, still dumbstruck with the enormity of what had just happened. Then I gathered myself, turning to my right and walking down a side corridor where I could look out between the pillars to see the crowd dancing. I looked for a tall man with dark hair, remembering that Genny was attending with Philippe. My heart raced as I scanned the revelers. If we did escape, we would all have to explain this strange occurrence to Philippe. If we did escape, if I acted quickly enough, we could be at the de Chagny estate on the coast before Erik could catch us.

I turned from the crowd when I could not find my target, moving to get a better view. My hand swung at my side. As it swung back, it became ensnared in the perfect trap as another hand grabbed at it. I was pulled off my feet for a second before stumbling and fighting as I was dragged away. I looked up to see a long red cape covering my captor's frame. I stepped down on it, trying to trip him.

Erik turned and lifted me from the ground with ease. Brushing his cape aside with one foot, he set me on my feet against the wall, pinning my arms with a single hand.

"Where did you run off to my love?" he hissed. "I did not give you permission to leave me. I did not give you permission to run off with your precious Vicomte."

I opened my mouth to scream, but was silenced by his free hand. My tears started afresh. He knew. He had to have been there on the roof with us. He had heard everything. The dark gleam in his eye told me he knew and was not pleased.

"Someone has been telling secrets. You must have thought yourself very clever Christine. It must have taken you weeks to think of such a clever deception to get away from my clutches, as it were. You even managed to recruit one of my old comrades." He pulled me away from the wall and pushed us further into the shadows. "You must tell me how you orchestrated it sometime."

I shook my head and his fingers lifted from my mouth. "I didn't do anything," I gasped. "I don't know that man and I had no idea he was leading me to Raoul. I didn't plan anything!"

Erik shook his head. "Forgive me if I don't believe you," he snapped. "Besides, I have something to show you. A present, if you will." The light around us faded as we moved away from the bright lights of the party. Now we stood in a dark corner illuminated by a single gas lamp only half lit.

"Look Christine," he demanded as he pushed me forward.

"No," I cried. "Please, I don't."

Erik shoved me forcefully. "Look!"

I stepped forward. The click of my shoes thundered in my ears like cannon shots. I saw on the floor a shoe, attached a leg, attached to … a body. I froze. I didn't want to see but morbid curiosity kept me from fleeing. Since I did not make a move, Erik stepped around me and turned the gas lamp up.

"Please," I whispered, closing my eyes. A woman's shoe meant it was not Raoul, but it could have been little Meg, Camille, or Genny.

"Christine! Open your eyes!" I could not disobey and reluctantly continued my journey up this lifeless shell. What had once been a beautiful dress of gold covered with red and black hearts was now a stage set to tell the tale of horrible murder. The bodice of the gown was slashed haphazardly. Blood seeped from fresh wounds peeking through the fabric, staining the luxurious skirts and pooling on the floor. Worse still was a gruesome line across the throat, as if the murderer was intent on taking off the head. Above that, Carlotta's lifeless eyes stared into mine, though she could no longer see this world. Her flame red hair matted against the column that served as her final resting place.

The Queen of Hearts in all her finery.

I attempted to scream, but, as before, Erik's hand covered my mouth, stiffing me. I squirmed in his arms, desperate to get away. All my fears and dark suspicions that Erik would kill again had come true. I thought of what Inspector Girard had told me of Frederich's murder. I now saw the handiwork of that same killer before me and I was in his arms.

"Hush!" His breath against my ear felt like steam.

I brought my teeth down hard on his hand. His leather gloves prevented much damage, but it was enough to draw a few fingers away from my mouth.

"You killed her," I gasped. "You killed her."

"Ah, so you think," Erik cooed, "but you haven't seen the best part." He extended his other hand to the side and into the shadows. One long graceful finger extended and beckoned something, or someone, to him. My gaze followed his hand and into the foreboding darkness.

I saw the wings of an angel; a light mass of white feathers cutting through the shadows and coming into view. It was followed by a face; a beautiful angelic face that I knew very well.

Genny emerged. Her face was framed by the angel wings on her back. She gave me a slight smile and looked down. I followed her gaze downward to her fashionable evening dress. It was a delicate arrangement of folded silk, ruche satin, white lace … and blood.

She laughed. It was the most horrendous sound I have ever heard. It was not sweet innocent laughter that graced my friend's throat, but an insane howl. Then I saw the knife in her hand. I could not take my eyes off it. Her horrible laughter filled my ears and Erik all the while remained unnaturally silent.

It stopped and Genny's eyes met mine. She gave no indication that she was upset by the look on my face or by anything that surrounded us. She only smiled again.

"Isn't it wonderful, Christine?" she said. Her tone was cheerful and that frightened me. "We have both been truly blessed, just as I knew we would. The Angel of Music has given me," she stretched out her arms, "all of this!" she laughed.

I turned and looked back at Erik. Genny made a tsking sound. "It's all right Christine. I already know. The angel has already told me about you too. You are very lucky." She stepped forward and pressed a finger against my cheek. It was wet with blood. "Because of his actions, we will achieve musical glory just as we were destined."

"Genevieve. What have you done?" I asked, my lips trembling as I spoke.

She held up the knife and I feared in her crazed state she would use it on me. It was poised only a few inches from my face. I pressed my body back, only to be stopped by Erik's form behind me.

"My duty," Genny said coldly. "The angel has planned everything for me. I was his devoted pupil and now he has rewarded me for it. All that was left for me to do was to kill those who were unworthy of his music." Her eyes darted over to Carlotta's dead body. I, again, took in the sight of the carnage and imagined the rage that inspired it.

I cried out. Genny had killed Carlotta. I looked into her eyes, usually alight with bright passion. Now they were two cold brown orbs staring back at me. What I had feared had come to life. I knew my friend could be easily influenced, but driven to murder? It was too horrible to contemplate, yet I faced this reality head on.

"Genny." I found my voice. "Listen to me. There is no Angel of Music. Everything this man has told you is a lie." I could feel Erik's gaze burning into me as I spoke. "He is more like the Angel of Death than of music. He is the opera ghost. He's dangerous. Don't listen to anything he says!"

The knife edged closer to my face. I held my breath. Genny stared wildly at me before lowering her eyes. With a somber expression on her face her fingers opened.

"I thought you would be pleased with me," she said in a small voice.

The knife fell onto the floor. Genny started to mummer incoherently under her breath. I came to my senses and realized that while Erik was still behind me, he was making no effort to restrain me.

I didn't give him the opportunity. I sprang forward, grabbing Genny's hand and pulling her away. I ran and did not look behind me. All the while Genny continued to mumble. Her words became clear through repetition.

"I did this for you Christine. I did this for you."

The broken sound in her voice only hurried my frantic pace. Somehow in my panic I managed to avoid any populated passage ways, thinking of Raoul and of the waiting carriage. I lead her to our dressing room and practically flung her in while locking the door.

After taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I went to her side, pressing my hand against her cheek. She did not respond to my touch, but simply stared over my shoulder at nothing.

"Genny," I called to her. "Can you hear me? Can you understand me?" I pleaded. I went over to the dresser and dipped a cloth into a pitcher of water. I wiped her face and hands with it, trying to remove the blood. I only managed to smear it, getting more of it on my hands than on the cloth. I gave a frustrated groan. Genny remained silent.

"I'm going to take you away from here, Genny. Raoul and I are going to take you somewhere safe," I told her. "Do you understand me? I'll keep you safe, safe from him."

I anxiously awaited any sign of her response. Then she started to laugh once more; a harsh chuckle that sounded as if she were swallowing a mouthful of nails. I didn't know which was worst; her crazed laughter or her confession. I did this for you.

I was running out of time. Erik would be on us at any second and no door would stand in his way. I raided Genny's wardrobe and pulled out a peach colored frock. Without any protest from my friend, I stripped away her blood soaked gown. Once she was changed I took her by the hand once more and lead her away. All the while she kept laughing and I was now certain she had gone quite mad.

When we re-entered the foyer, I pulled my mask off of my face and placed it over Genny's madding expression. I pulled her along through the crowd. Suddenly the surge of bodies around us grew. I heard a growing commotion as people start to talk excitedly. Everyone seemed to be heading for the exits all at once. I commanded myself not to panic. I reached my hand over Genny's shoulder and lowered her head. I kept my gaze on the nearest door, not daring to look at anyone. The excited talk gave way to small screams, but I pressed on.

Again, the cold wind of the Paris night nipped at my skin as we finally made it outside. Around us men were raising their hands to call for cabs while the women on their arms complained about the cold. I searched until I spotted a familiar carriage and a tall figure with blond hair.

Raoul's jaw dropped as he saw us; his sister barely standing of her own accord and mumbling like a lunatic and me with fierce determination in my eyes.

"What happened?" he asked.

I thrust Genny forward. "Get her in the carriage. Get her out of here. Leave the city!" I commanded. Without another word Raoul wrapped his sister in his arms and lifted her up. He brought her the few steps to the open carriage door, comforting her as only a brother could. I looked over my shoulder at the crowd. I saw black tailcoats, dresses of mauve, gold and indigo: decadent costumes draped with blues and greens, but no red.

"Christine." Raoul returned from placing Genny inside the carriage shaking a little from the cold. He extended his hand to me.

"Come with us."

I was poised on the step above him. I glanced down at his honest face. I leaned forward.

I never went beyond that step. In one swift moment I was pulled backward against Erik's chest. I did not need to turn to see it was him. His shadow was cast over us both on the steps. His cape blew fiercely in the wind in front of me. The two men stared at each other; Raoul gazing up in horrified disbelief before slowly his eyes narrowed in anger at his rival.

"Come inside, Christine." Erik whispered. "You'll catch your death out here."

From behind us came a terrified voice issuing a panic inducing proclamation.

"Murder!"

END OF ACT TWO

A/N: aHa! That's the end of act two folks sorry it went on so long.

I must give credits were it's due as the first part of the chapter was influenced heavily by the Apollo's Lyre chapter from the original Gaston Leroux's novel to whom I owe everything...