Hello again, all. I'm not dead and offer no excuses only apologies on the lateness of this update. With a heavy heart, I also add that this is the last chapter, the Epilogue being half of this post. It's been a lot of fun and thanks so much to those who have read and those who have reviewed. -Hug!-

Disclaimer: Ummm...I haven't owned it so far so why would I own it now? Kudos to Leroux. Philippe is most decidely mine, character devolpement-wise, as well as Ezekiel...and several other random vampires.

The clamor of the skirmish suddenly fell quiet. All of those possessed by the sprites had frozen in place, not even blinking.

"Attack them!" Donald cried out, praying that they would have enough time to strike down a sizable number of possessable bodies before the sprites chose a new leader and resumed their winning attack. All the same, few vampires were quick to attack again, still perplexed by the effect. Carolyn merely didn't feel it was sporting and hung back though standing quite ready while Ezekiel was enjoying himself by poking an immobile body and watching as it did nothing. Eventually, they all struck their enemies where they stood…all but one, Donald noticed: Irving hadn't moved. Realization exploding in his mind, he called out to Dane (who was striking at the possessed bodies much closer to Irving than he was), "Irving's one of them now, don't hold back."

Dane nodded, not needing telling twice. A look that could almost be described as pitying on any other face flashed in his eyes as he drove a wooden stake (retrieved off of one of the fallen Balmonts) and shoved it firmly into Irving's chest, removing it with a sickening suction sound. The body fell to the ground and dissolved into dust and bones. All too soon, the sprites shook off their stupor and returned to the fray with renewed vigor and malevolence. Though about half of their number had been stunned by staying in those dying bodies, they still retained a solid position.

Abruptly, they shifted tactics: when the stunned sprites could move again, they moved into new hosts and soon it was vampire against vampire, the exhausted bodies of the now human werewolf hosts desperately trying to crawl out of the way. Allies were suddenly turned around and snarling in the faces of other vampires.

Donald tried not to notice the odds and where the tide of battle was moving though deep in his heart, he knew that they couldn't last much longer.

∞†∞

Christine buried her face in Erik's chest. Once he recovered from his shock, Erik knelt down and picked up a large shard of the mirror and set it in his pocket, eyes downcast.

"There's nothing we can do about it now, Christine. Come. We have to get out of this cellar before anything else finds us."

Christine took one last look back at the remains of the mirror and nodded, allowing Erik to guide her up the stairs. "What do we do now, Erik?"

"That sprite, that voice in Raoul was right. They won't stop. We've got to put and end to this now."

"How?"

"I intend to use my gift. Will you join with me? Perhaps this is where your gift will present itself."

Christine nodded with a smile. She wrinkled her brow in thought and spoke up tentatively, "Erik, if we could put all the pieces of the mirror back together…" she let her question die off, unsure of how to finish it.

"I don't know, Christine. It will have to wait."

She nodded again, acknowledging that there were bigger problems to be dealt with.

Only Christine and Erik remembered what truly happened after that. Pushing off of the ground, Christine gasped in delight as she and Erik flew over the countryside hand in hand. Then he began to sing. It was a soft song at first and Christine grinned, recognizing the tune as one he had written and only ever played for her. Waiting for her intro, she stretched her diaphragm and sang out, voices intertwining and echoing across the earth. Mortals heard and slept on in a quiet contentment; the vampires (even Ezekiel with an odd smirk) raised their heads to the sky and watched, captivated and motionless; the sprites, however, filed out of their hosts and danced behind them, rats following the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

Ultimately, the war was won from that moment.

Christine and Erik lead them on a flourishing path across the night's sky. The sprites' malice was lost as their shrill little chirps dissipated into little squeaks of joy at the bouncy tune. The spell woven over the helpless sprites was gleefully accepted, if cruel in its own way. Erik's notes lagged slightly as his mind raced, trying to conceive some sort of plan to destroy them all without breaking the spell's hold. He nearly lost his concentration entirely (caught wondering what Philippe would have said and doubting they would have found a rock large enough to just squish them all) when the first dissolved into smaller pieces and fell away into the night sky.

Christine gasped but resumed singing under an urgent, demanding look from Erik. Their audience below watched dumbly as the odd parade continued onward, one by one the lights flitting out into nothingness. Despite all that had plagued their minds for the past several days and years before, a sense of peace settled on the vampires. Donald had an odd look of amused satisfaction while the face Dane wore was considerably more forgiving than his usual expression. Ezekiel was the first to regain movement, dancing vaguely along with an odd grin in its usual place. Some of the other vampires moved to improve their vantage points, a couple picking up the pieces of the mess before them and sought shelter from the impending morning. The rest only watched. The lights continued to dissipate into the air and by the time Erik and Christine released the final note, the last had let go of its remaining bit of malice and had nothing more to hold it together.

Arm in arm, Christine and Erik landed softly on the grass below.

One of the vampires Erik didn't know started forward, "That was…it was…" He laughed. "I really don't know how to describe that."

Christine smiled shyly and Erik returned a secret smile of his own before it slid off his face as Donald marched up to face them.

"That was a bit anticlimactic, if you ask me," Carolyn said with a bit of a chuckle, wincing as she held her side.

"Well, whatever you call it," Roger entered in, smiling grandly, "It's over now."

"It's not," Sebastian grunted, still attempting to stop the gash from leaking through his fingers.

"What do you mean it's not?" Roger inquired disbelievingly.

"Just that. It's not over yet," Donald agreed in a tone that cut at the happiness the song had instilled in everyone.

No one asked why, caught between not wanting to be the one who asked and not wanting to know.

"It's not over yet," Donald repeated. "Think about it. Some of the stunned sprites were still safe within their hosts and they won't wake until the sun's out. Then God only knows where they'll be next. They might take a year to regroup, meet up with some of the others of their kind or just create several hundred more."

"But next time we'll know how to fight them, right, Erik?" Roger said jovially, clapping Erik on the shoulder.

"No," Erik stated plainly. Roger took his hand away, glancing at his companion uncertainly.

Donald's eyes flashed. "No?"

"I," he corrected himself, "We don't want any part. I don't follow anyone's orders, least of all you. I will protect what is important to me."

"We're your kin, Erik," Dane said reasonably.

"And perhaps if it will mutually benefit us, I might be inclined to help if you ask. But I will not be ordered. A vast percentage of the sprites have been taken care of, I believe my share is done. This isn't my war unless they come for me again."

"They will, Erik," Donald shot back, a twist of understanding gracing the corner of his mouth.

"Then we might end up on the same side again."

"And if it's only you, should we come to your aid?"

"That will be your decision, kinship or grudge."

"How is that different than from what you propose?"

"I will not be ordered about," Erik repeated.

"Erik," Christine whispered urgently, "The sun will be up soon. It's best we leave."

"Take care of her," Donald said by means of a farewell.

"Of that you can be sure."

Carolyn and Roger gave Erik a much friendlier goodbye, wishing them both well before taking off after Donald and Dane. Even Sebastian gave a gruff adieu before fleeing before the dawn. Ezekiel sashayed forward and gave Christine a peck on the cheek. He touched her stomach briefly and she shot a confused look at Erik who, remembering who it was, stayed in his spot and shook his head. Ezekiel made his way over to Erik and took him by the hand. "There's no good way to cure hiccups but to forget about them. It's best you check the mirror again, you might be surprised. And I expect to be notified." Bemused as usual (such was the way Ezekiel's conversations turned out), Erik opted to thank him before taking Christine back to the basement of the mansion before the sun could ruin the success of the evening.

∞†∞

Epilogue

Sancha gazed into her crystal ball. It was a silly bauble perhaps but she enjoyed how the light reflected and sparkled off of the polished surface and the mystic mist. For the first time in a long time, however, she saw an entirely clear image. The poor gypsy gave a start at first, immediately recognizing the subject of her vision. Even though she and her clan had officially sworn off vampires, there was no mistaking this man, his white mask still hiding the shocking mutilation underneath (Sancha shuddered at the memory that unfortunately hadn't faded with time). Recalling back the details of this particular soul, Sancha put aside her revulsion and fear and instead watched the vision knowing that it was bad luck to ignore it. The man's face was still covered mostly by the mask but something was quite different about his face, the part that showed anyway. She couldn't put her finger on it at first. Sancha continued to watch as the subject rose from his chair and set himself at the organ, the corner of his mouth quirking up as though he knew a particularly juicy secret. She wondered vaguely if he ever discovered the possibility of his second gift. The man, Erik, was no longer alone as a woman sat down next to him, effectively distracting him from his work with a long, demanding kiss.

Sancha realized what was different then. When she had first met him, he was drawn and stretched thin with whatever plagued his life; now, though, it was remarkable what change a little bit of happiness made in him. Then the vision was gone, and, though perplexed, she resolved not to think on it anymore lest she attract the subject's attention.

Indeed, a gradual but steady and positive change slowly crept into Erik's life. As far as he was concerned, it was due to the woman who now stood beside him while they were out on an evening walk. It had been a romantic moment until a familiar voice demanded their attention.

"Hey, you two! It's awfully boring down in your pocket."

Erik sighed but knew that he would never shut up until he was somehow acknowledged. Christine shook her head with a smile as Erik pulled the shard out of his pocket. Philippe's face shone in the small piece.

"Much better. It's dull enough being stuck in a mirror for all eternity but if you're not going to take the time to entertain me, I might have to attempt something constructive." Philippe shuddered, smirk still fully set in place.

"If it weren't for Ezekiel, we wouldn't have really known that you were still around," Christine reminded him.

"Oh, come on, Christine. You don't believe his little phony fortunes, do you? It could have meant anything."

"Somehow, I doubt it. And what about yours? You told me about the mirror some time ago."

"Erik, I thought you would have had enough sense not to get sucked in…but then again I suppose I have known you long enough to not expect such things from you."

Erik sighed and rolled his eyes. They made their way down the familiar path, glad to see the lair again. Erik hung Christine's cape on a hook next to his own and immediately saw to the fire. Christine made herself comfortable with a light grin.

"You know, one good thing about this whole mirror business is you can't really retaliate."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He started to wrap the piece back in his silk handkerchief as Philippe protested loudly.

"Alright, alright! I get it. I'll try to keep it to a minimum. You can't expect any better from me than that and you know it."

"That's one way to put it," Erik muttered with a slight grin.

After shooting a disapproving gaze, Philippe continued (as he was prone to do), "So, why couldn't Ezekiel give us any good advice like how to get me the hell out of this."

Sebastian for all his cantankerous nature was quite knowledgeable about mirrors and his prognosis was blunt and bleak. "If it were possible, maybe he could have."

"Isn't it understood yet that anything is bloody possible?" Philippe grumbled half-heartedly. "While we were talking about the little psycho, has he popped by again?"

"No, not recently but he sent a message saying—"

"Oh, please spare me," Philippe waved off Christine's response. He changed the subject: "So, Erik, getting close to the full moon again."

The whole party seemed to glance down at the scars hidden by Erik's trouser leg. "We're ready this time," he stated plainly.

"Good. I caught a glimpse that first time and it wasn't pretty. Sure you were moody before but that was a little extreme." That day when Erik had flung his coat aside, Philippe's world had tumbled out of the pocket just enough to watch. Ultimately, the experience had not been as terrible as any of them had feared. Erik had been stricken to ground as his already long fangs grew longer with roughly the same sort of pain he'd experienced when his teeth had initially changed but what had truly frightened Christine was the way his eyes froze in a maniacal gleam and his mask (still worn for his personal security and further to protect the weak skin from the elements) clattered to the floor when his face shifted, the deformity stretching and smoothing out with the rest of his face. He'd snarled at everything and took his evening meal with a definite and cruel sense of…relish. Yet thankfully he retained most of his self, if the violent and irrational part of him, and had the sense to leave their safe haven for a little while, though Christine did not entirely appreciate being left at home, to say the least, and gave him an earful when he returned (after he had spent the day recovering, of course).

"It's the fourth time, Philippe," Christine chided. "We know what to do."

"Well, no one's bothered to tell me that."

"Back to the petulant sulking. You don't need to know everything and if you've enough sense to know when the next full moon is, perhaps we just assumed that you'd figure it out. I can see we've overestimated your intelligence," Erik replied snidely.

"Come in here and say that."

Christine just chuckled. "Both of you stop it. You should know by now that you can't stop the other."

Erik grinned sardonically as if to say, "my dear, you know that's not true" and Philippe's smug expression read much of the same. Christine was ready to throw up her hands and give up but a slight pressure in her abdomen distracted her. Gently lying a hand across her stomach, Christine excused herself.

"A certain little someone stomping on her bladder again, I reckon," Philippe surmised crudely. "I still don't know how that's even possible, Erik."

"Neither do I," Erik replied honestly. "But it is a miracle."

"I thought she'd want to be married first…"

"She did. We did."

"So? How could you take part in a holy ceremony?"

"Must have slept through that day," Erik remarked under his breath. "Well we couldn't exactly go into a church so we asked a priest to sign up the document. It's the best we could do."

"Wait, this must have been the day I was locked in that infernal box."

Erik's mouth quirked into a grin. "That could very likely be the case."

"You take far too much delight in locking me up. You've 'accidentally' left me different places too often."

"Perhaps," Erik shrugged.

Philippe huffed. "All the same, I still don't know how Christine could be expecting or how the child could even be alive, whether it'll be alive." A contemplative look passed over Philippe's face as he thought aloud: "Perhaps you were so twisted to begin with, you kept part of your soul and when you completed the union with Christine so did she…or maybe you're just plain weird."

"You told me once there was a lot of magic involved in being a vampire."

"All the same, when he or she grows up, assuming the child lives and ages and all that, I sure can't wait until you're driven insane by your own teenager."

Erik shook his head. "The way I see it, it's just another manifestation of being a vampire or perhaps the second gift the gypsy referred to. Besides, how can you still be alive in the mirror without anything to feed off of?"

"Touché, but I guess those are two things I merely shouldn't question. Though I could wish for better company."

Erik quirked an eyebrow once more.

Philippe chuckled. "Well, my brother's dead body is not one for conversation," he deadpanned.

"Honestly, Philippe," Christine walked back in, "That's no way to speak of the dead."

"Says us, if that isn't ironic."

"All the same, Raoul had a good heart."

"If not always the strongest brain," Erik muttered lowly, earning a snort from Philippe and a sharp glare from Christine. She soon relaxed her gaze and lay back on the sofa, leaning against the love she had once forsaken. The fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, sending dancing shadows against the walls. It was good to be back in Paris again. Madame Giry visited occasionally and Christine was disappointed to have to turn down her daughter's wedding invitation but the sunlight and the church made it quite impossible. Meg did not fully understand, and for her safety the matter was never fully cleared up. Since her new husband whisked her away to her new home, she had no real opportunity to happen upon the truth for herself. Christine sighed. Life was not perfect but then again it was interesting and she was content.

Sinking against her husband's chest, which was warm from a fresh kill, she glanced up into his face and took off his mask. He leaned down and kissed her lips, his own curled in a smile all the while.

"What's going to happen next, Erik?" she whispered, a hand cupped around his cheek.

He placed his own hand over hers. "Christine, I don't know for certain—"

Philippe broke in, "Donald's going to pound on our door with some new infestation that he wants help with or we're all going to contract some odd disease that turns us all into sheep every third Tuesday or Ezekiel's going to cartwheel on in with another one of his purposely vague prognostications and…hey…don't you dare put that—" but the rest of what he was going to say was quickly muffled by the silk handkerchief and then the solid wooden drawer as it slid shut.

"Christine, I'm not sure what's going to happen but as long as you're with me, I don't care." Kissing her soundly, he hoisted her into his arms, both blatantly ignoring the indignant muffled demands from the desk drawer.

Final Authoress rambling: Ah, so it ends. Thanks again to those who stuck through with me.

On a semi-unrelated note, shards of Philippe's mirror go up for auction later today; take home a piece of him for your very own! Supplies are limited. ;)

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

Happy Writing, Happy Reading, Happy Whatever!

-bobmcbobbob1, 12/07/06