The usual: Yep, don't own Phantom of the Opera...wouldn't that be grand:stares wistfully off into the distance:

Hey everyone! Anyone in the mood for an update? Gah, I'm sorry it's been so long; I was computer-less for about two weeks making both assignments and fun writing very difficult (especially as my most up to date versions of my stories were only saved on my laptop). Stupid defective parts...Erik's battery died and his AC adapter wasn't working. Had to read all of The Autobiography of Malcolm X in a very short period, too, which although interesting cut a lot of my free time. Uber-sorry for the wait.

OMG! I can't believe this story is on 41 favorites pages! I love you all, even those I've never heard from. And I'm almost to 200 reviews when my "what-if? goal" was only 100. A hundred hugs to all reviewers (Philippe and Erik enjoyed teaching:wink:). You guys make my day.

I didn't go into much description of Rome, a) I didn't get to do as much research as I would have liked and b) you can imagine all the sights yourself this way. Furthermore, I didn't put any Italian in (though I did think about it) because I don't trust online translators. Hope it will be alright away...

First glimpse of the Circle in this one! Hope you like it...

Three Weeks Later

The journey had been tedious and although Erik and Philippe had arrived safely they had yet to receive further word of where to head next. Secretly, Erik was wary on receiving another sign but after a few nights, he was ready to move on. The architecture had been more than he could have expected though he regretted never being able to enjoy the wonders presented in the sun. It was almost tragic.

"I don't see what's so bloody interesting about these statues and such. You keep looking at the same buildings. They have changed in a few hundred years; I don't think they'll change overnight."

Erik cringed; of course, there were some things a little more tragic. Biting back a remark of "uncultured swine" toward his companion, Erik walked down the empty street and gazed at the Vatican as Philippe tried to keep up with his brisk pace. Every time he had tried to approach the building, a strange queasiness would erupt in his stomach and remained until he was an agreeable distance away. It seemed wrong to take his meal near such a holy place, though Philippe felt no such unease and seemed that he would take the priest in a confessional if given half a chance.

Erik stopped walking and stared at the moon again as Philippe caught up, slapping him on the back.

"What's your hurry? It's not like we've gotten any direction yet. Relax, you've been tense since we left France," Philippe drawled.

Erik acknowledged internally that Philippe was right as he watched a couple pass by, arm in arm.

Philippe couldn't help but notice: "Are you still pining away for Christine? Honestly, you haven't scarcely cracked a smile in three weeks, not that you did a lot of smiling before that come to think of it. Get over it. Enjoy Rome."

Erik had had enough of Philippe's comments, building since they'd left, and rounded on him: "Get over it? Get over Christine? Why don't you get over Adele?"

The smile plummeted off of Philippe's face and was replaced with an ugly scowl. Before he could make an angry outburst he suddenly fell backward, with a dazed look. He tried to stand a couple times, but each instance he seemed to be kicked by an invisible boot in the gut. Erik watched curiously and noticed several other pairs of watching eyes, despite the late hour. They glanced suspiciously at Erik, eyeing his mask and silently noting that it wasn't time for carnival.

"I say, is he alright?" an English gentleman, judging by the accent, spoke up next to him.

"He'll be fine. Just a conniption, it'll pass."

"Is that normal?" the woman on the gentleman's arm asked gently.

"For him, yes. He'll be fine," he related impassively. Though looking as though they were far from reassured, the couple left and slowly the tiny crowd dispersed. Finally Philippe regained his breath and stood on shaky feet. Still resentful, Philippe shrugged off Erik's assistance and started to walk off on his own.

After a block or two in silence, Philippe asked in a tone haughtier than his normal lightheartedness, "Well, aren't you going to ask where we're going?"

"You'd tell me eventually."

"Hmmm…I didn't think you were one for patience. Anyway we have to wait another week."

"Another week?"

"Well, a few days. For the next moon." Erik reflected for a moment, he'd truly been a vampire for nearly two months now, all of Philippe's early tutelage mixed in with late night intrigues and the ever-present thoughts of Christine. "Then there's some place on the outskirts of town, some old amphitheater or something."

They resumed silence and made it back to their hotel that didn't ask questions.

"Oh and Erik," Philippe turned around with another frown, "Don't speak of Adele again." They glared at each other for a moment, Philippe to convey his point and Erik to affirm that he would not be intimidated. Eventually, Philippe rolled his eyes and the left corner of his mouth twitched up. "Alright, truce? I never was one to win staring contests; I'd either start laughing or cheat."

Erik shook the offered hand then entered his room without replying. In some regards, Philippe was right, he had been moping more than he ought. Disgusted with himself, Erik wished briefly that he had his organ at his fingertips to vent his rage and frustration yet the closest thing nearby (short of breaking into a church) was an out-of-tune twanging piano. He pulled out the stopper in a bottle of wine and poured a meager amount; taking a sip, he grimaced knowing that nothing could satisfy like that of a fresh kill. The first bars of sunlight were stretching across the sky and Erik roughly yanked the heavy curtains to block the offensive beams.

After this blasted meeting with the Circle, what then? Could he ever show his ghastly face to Christine again?

∞†∞

Yanking the cover over the window, Christine settled back into the plush seating of the coach. She was tired of traveling and longed for a few minutes alone, just to be able to hear her own thoughts.

"I wish you would tell me what's troubling you, Christine."

She glanced at her fiancé as he spoke, noting for the hundredth times the new additions to his daily attire. First, the crucifix that hung from his neck she would have ordinarily approved of had it not been larger than her head and one of the gaudiest things she had ever seen. He kept a clove of garlic in his pocket and the bulb stuck out in an odd manner. Protruding from another pocket was a vial of what the peddler had sworn was holy water since Raoul did not feel confident asking a priest personally, knowing full well where his claim would have landed him. Furthermore, a book about the legend of vampires sat upside-down, opened to some page or another. She didn't even want to consider what baubles he had packed in his suitcase.

When she said nothing, he continued, "I told you not to worry about that demon. I've taken steps to make sure he can never harm us. I'll hunt him down and stake his putrid heart myself, have no fear. Then we shall free my brother's soul from his spell."

Not for the first time since Erik had left that night, Christine thought to herself, Raoul has gone off the deep end. She averted her gaze back to the now covered window.

Raoul placed a hand on her chin and she turned to face him. "I'm really worried about you Christine. You've scarcely eaten anything lately and you haven't gone outdoors in so long…"

"I'm fine, Raoul."

"Perhaps it was that meat at the last inn. I told you to send it back; it was far too raw, practically alive."

"Really, Raoul, I'm fine."

"I think this trip will be good for you, a change of scenery so you can just forget that monster. So nice of the Baron Castelo-Barbezac to invite me as well. I daresay him and Meg seem to be growing very close now don't they?"

Christine nodded and then resumed staring at nothing. How did she let herself get talked into these things? Raoul had insisted that they leave Paris moments after Erik and Philippe left and it had taken plenty of convincing just to get him to wait until morning. Then the Giry's again insisted that both she and Raoul join them on a visit to Rome with the Baron, the others traveling in a second coach for now. From the time between trips, Raoul had jumped at nearly every snapped twig or creaking stair before setting about to protect himself. He could labor under whatever delusions of the event he chose; at least he hadn't asked what had happened before he'd arrived.

Her fair knight had turned into a coward and again she missed the dragon's presence…even if he had possibly just set fire to some village. She still wasn't sure how she felt about Erik's new skills, not that all of his abilities were honest. Christine just knew that she needed to talk to him, though it seemed she was moving further and further away…

∞†∞

"Are we there yet?"

"How should I know? You're the one who had the vision."

Philippe shrugged. "Still, it's always fun to annoy you."

Erik sighed and rolled his eyes though he was somewhat relieved; Philippe had been increasingly distant the past few days and though his companion's quirks were often highly annoying, his darker moods were much less tolerable.

Philippe stopped walking and tilted his head, glancing somewhere west of where they were. Erik, after nearly colliding with Philippe, looked with curiosity etched into his visible features. The bemused look on Philippe's face slowly filtered to disbelief then a strange smile.

"Interesting. Interesting indeed." Glancing at Erik, his smirk deepened. "Erik, you didn't complete the second criteria for a blood union, now did you?"

Whatever Erik had been expecting, it was far from that. The arms that had crossed over his chest fell disbelievingly to his sides, limp as he stared at Philippe, momentarily distracted from maintaining his façade of emotionlessness.

"Oh, come now," Philippe teased, "you're starting to look like my brother." Erik was about to reply but realized that he was indeed standing with his jaw slack and shut it hastily before composing himself.

"How-how did you know that?"

Philippe only grinned anew. "It was very faint at first, I mean I couldn't even tell it was her, but it's gotten stronger."

"What is? How do you know?" Erik asked eagerly, now fully intrigued.

"The same way I know that Sebastian is over that hill." Philippe turned from Erik and called out, "Oy! Sebastian! Quit hiding and get down here."

Moments later, a dark shadow slithered along the ground and congealed to form a man in front of two of them. Of a figure somewhere between lean and pudgy, Sebastian stood a few inches shorter than Erik and Philippe. He brushed a few errant locks of his straight, light brown hair out of his face though they fell back easily, as if this were a continuous routine, and hazel eyes peaked out from his bangs. Dressed simply with black pants, a white shirt, and bright red vest, he reached into his pocket and yanked out an old watch.

"It's about time. Couldn't you take directions?" he muttered, returning his pocket watch to its normal place.

Philippe grinned in spite of the man's tone, leaving Erik to question yet again if perhaps Philippe truly delighted in bothering everyone. Erik sighed and Philippe shrugged as he replied, "Well, can't say that brief images bombarding my brain are easy directions to follow, trying to sort through them and all."

"You know the Circle doesn't like to wait."

"How could I forget?" Philippe replied with a bit of a grimace. Erik bit his lip lightly, half-smirking all the same. Philippe had told him that story and the results of his impertinence; apparently they had caned him like a child and he claimed that he hadn't been able to sit for three days.

"I still don't understand how you could get so far off track." Before Philippe could make another smart-aleck comment, Sebastian glared at him then made a strange noise, a shrill whistle that echoed oddly in the night. Moments later, a sparrow flew down and landed on Sebastian's shoulder. Turning sharply on his heel, he mumbled, "follow me" before swiftly transforming himself into a bat.

Erik and Philippe shifted forms quickly and flew hard to catch up with him.

"How could he do that?"

"Do what?"

"Call the bird."

"Oh, that," Philippe shrugged (well, as much as a bat can really shrug in mid-flight), "some vampires can call on an animal." He chuckled lightly. "Still…a sparrow. Don't know how much help that would be."

"You'd be surprised," intoned Sebastian darkly, flying next to the subject in question. "Maybe Emma will just have to peck your eyes out to prove her worth." Sebastian turned back to the sky, still flying at a brisk pace.

"Can't say I'll ever look at a sparrow the same way." Philippe turned to Erik and smirked again. "Hey, did you ever notice that your fur's lighter around where your mask normally is?"

"Can't say that I spend hours in front of the mirror as a bat."

"We're there," Sebastian announced, phasing again to human form. "Don't know why I had to be the messenger boy…" he grumbled as he walked off, still ranting on something or another as Emma chirped approvingly.

"Now what?" Erik asked when Philippe stood there without moving.

"We wait." Philippe's mood had shifted to serious and Erik instead took in his surroundings.

In the pale moonlight, the outlines of two tents were visible. Upon closer inspection they were as brightly striped as any gypsy cart, likely to appear inconspicuous, he gathered. Sebastian had walked into the first tent, throwing back the cover to the door haphazardly, and the light from a single candle permeated the dark fabric and the vague outline of other shapes was visible to Erik's enhanced sight. The other tent was of a thicker fabric and we couldn't see inside as well as he would have liked, wishing to gather whatever information he could about what he would soon be up against. In the distance, the city was barely distinguishable and Erik was sad to leave it. The other direction held miles of endless beauty with an occasional cottage.

Philippe was rambling off on some point or another and Erik was successfully ignoring him until he caught the word "Christine."

"What was that?"

"Thought that would get your attention, I mean you didn't even take me up on the offer to help plague Raoul's existence so I didn't think you were taking in anything I was saying." Philippe's tone shifted, growing more serious. "Anyway, that's the theater from my vision and the elders should call on us soon. You need to treat them with respect. I'm not joking on this one. Oh and be honest, lying honestly won't pay here, especially since Elder Aleta can see right through any lie you could concoct. It's her gift."

"Gift?"

"Haven't you noticed? Every vampire has an ethereal gift, just like every human has their talents. 'Bastian calls his sparrow, I sense others of our kind, Aleta knows the truth when she sees it, dear ol' Donny has this assertive power that can make a king bow without argument, Annabelle," Philippe made a strange growling noise, "can make any man's blood boil—even when there isn't any to speak of—and Irving drives the ladies wild just by breathing—I tell you it wasn't easy to learn from him; whether he sired me or not, way too many distractions—and there's Dane who has the final say of any judgement (never try to make him smile) and Ethan could snap you in two and Margaret…"

He continued on several names for a few moments and Erik debated which question he would ask first: How could Philippe sense Christine? and what was his gift? He waited impatiently for Philippe to finish listing, somewhat interested otherwise he'd have interrupted him long ago. When Philippe finally stopped for breath, Erik opened his mouth when the 'door' of the mysterious tent flopped open and a cavalcade walked out. Philippe bowed his head respectively but Erik merely watched the procession of vampires, lead by a man with brown hair cropped short and a goatee dressed in deep forest green over a white shirt. His presence oozed confidence and superiority and Erik fought down a mingling sense of intimidation he would never admit to feeling as he met the leader's brown, nearly black, eyes.

"Good evening," he intoned simply, with a soft Scottish accent. "I am Donald, Chief Elder of the Circle. Wait in our tent and we will be with you shortly. Something has come up."

Before Erik could breathe a word of protest, they cluster had moved on down the hill into the base of the amphitheater.

"Hmm…after all that worry about haste, too, no less," Philippe remarked casually. "Well then, let's relax before we're put before the firing squad."

Erik meditated in his thoughts and questions, following Philippe wordlessly into the tent as the flap whispered shut behind him.

∞†∞

"Are you certain?"

The crumpled figure on the ground coughed weakly. "I-I swear to it. All of them. This is the first time I've—" he started coughing again, much more harshly, bringing up blood and bile. A few members of the group standing around the broken form licked their lips unconsciously.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Very gradually. Don't know." His eyes rolled back briefly then he returned his focus, glancing at the sky; "You know, I haven't-haven't seen the moon like this in…God I don't know how many years." After a pathetic laugh, he began to cough again until his battered body could not recover and all life left his useless shell.

The group left the corpse where is lay, resolving to send an underling later to properly care for the carcass of the dead werewolf.

"Where did you find him, Dane?"

"Not far from here, North," he replied impassively.

"This changes many things," Donald muttered. "Come, we have other matters to discuss tonight."

Authoress Babbling: I was having fun on picking names :shrug: fun reference page.

This week's Erik & Philippe fan-club (free membership to reviewers!) activity: knife-throwing practice at the fop's head (as suggested by Neori), Punjab lessons (both weaving your own and the art of tossing) taught be Erik, and as a special this week, Donald will recite some Robert Burns and other poetry (in his Scottish accent!..sorryI digress).

Well as always, Love it or hate it, please let me know!

Until next time, take care