AUTHOR'S NOTE: Firstly, I owe an incredible apology for taking so long to get another chapter up. With all hope, this won't happen again. Recently I had the opportunity to actually see LND on stage. I was absolutely apalled by what I saw, and it sparked a renewed interent in this story. But I will not rant about LND's horrors here. So - after a long, long wait - here's chapter two!

PS - On a more positive note, thank you to anyone who reviewed! They were all very flattering, and I really want to know what you guys think about the story as it progresses!

The room was dark – musty, almost, although the ship had only left a few days ago. I wondered what power that creature possessed, that he could create a dungeon from a palace so quickly. My eyes fell on the shadow of the room's spectral inhabitant.

The sight made my skin crawl. The man was curled up, his legs pressed against his chest, arms folded across his knees, chin resting in his elbows. A child's position superimposed upon the body of a man. His eyes, watery and bloodshot as they were, seemed to drift aimlessly up towards me and locked onto my frame, tracking me, unmoving, like the eyes of a painting. Nothing else of his moved; he did not even appear to be breathing. In the past few days, I had become more accustomed to the concept of the living dead.

Tightening my jaw, I stepped forward. "I had this brought up to the room," I said loudly, my voice sharper than usual as I set the plate of fruit onto the nearest table. I ignored the other untouched plates that were left from previous days.

I stepped back quickly and turned to face the man again. He hadn't moved; I wasn't surprised. He had sat in that chair since the ship's departure, always in the same position, his empty eyes staring forward into the room, taking in everything and nothing.

But I still could not bring myself to turn my back on him. I felt behind me for the doorknob of the adjacent door, twisted it, and quickly stepped out of the gloom and into the brightness of the main suite.

I heard a soft cry from behind me as I snapped the door shut. I turned.

Meg quickly looked away from me, down to her hands. "Meg?" I asked softly. She looked up at me nervously, and I noted with a frown that her eyes were bloodshot and tired. She had not been sleeping well recently, and, from the looks of it, had spent another sleepless night last night.

Meg winced, almost as if she could hear my silent rebuke. She glanced around the room before looking down at her hands again. I followed her gaze, and saw that she was quivering in her chair.

"Meg. You're shaking."

Meg closed her hands into tiny fists. "It's nothing," she muttered, looking up towards me. But I noticed her gaze slide slowly down past my shoulder and land on the doorframe behind me. I frowned.

"You look pale," I said. "Unwell. You haven't been getting enough sun. Go outside; the sea air will be good for you."

Meg's frame seemed to collapse into herself as she looked down at her hands. "Yes, Mama," she murmured before standing up and darting out of the cabin. The door snapped shut. I stared at its rich chestnut frame.

I knew Meg was persevering for my sake, for the sake of her old Mama. She hadn't asked one question since the night of Don Juan. Just 'Yes, Mama's and nods. She waited for my explanation, in good faith that it would come.

But she was terrified. I could see the fear eating away at her when we went down to the dining room for dinner. She had become a frightened mare, easily spooked, jumpy, and ready to bolt at the slightest movement. She seemed to spend most of the time in the cabin, sitting in a chair in the far corner, casting terrified glances toward the adjacent cabin, unwilling to look away. I had begun to send her out of the cabin during the day, just to get her away from the door for which she seemed to have a terrible, growing fascination.

Almost unwillingly, I lowered myself into the very chair Meg had just occupied, wondering if I was developing the same obsession. I was uneasy about leaving the Ghost here alone, worried that I would return to find him vanished, unleashed upon a freighter full of unsuspecting passengers. And then, what? I certainly could not go to the ship's attendants and warn them of a murderer loose on their ship. A murderer I had brought aboard, no less. The Ghost was a hunted fugitive in Paris, and I had no doubt that the Opera's managers had given my name – as well as Meg's – to the gendarmes in charge of the case. I would die before seeing my Meg jailed.

I started to realize that I had been tearing pieces of fabric off of the armchair I was seated in. I released the chair as if it has stung me, and folded my hands in my lap. God forbid Meg ever feel an inkling of the uncertainty tearing through my veins now. Why had I designed to rescue the murderer? I owed him no significant debt; I could just have easily discovered his hiding place and called back the mob to deliver the Ghost to a long awaited justice. But I did not.

I tore myself away from the armchair suddenly. I would not fall slave to the creature inside the adjacent room. I would not allow Meg to shrivel into a skittish mouse because of the Ghost's influence. Meg and I were speeding to America, to a new life that would be – with all hope – better than the one we had left.

I stood up quickly, sending a twinge of pain down my spine with the speed. Wincing, I reached for my cane and tentatively straightened my back.

"Getting too old for this," I muttered as I walked toward the cabin's door, ready to go out and meet Meg on the top deck. My hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment. I turned – unwillingly – to look at the door to the adjacent room.

I walked across the cabin slowly, creeping toward the unknown terror behind the door. Gingerly, my hand rested on the smooth wood grain. It was as if some sort of cold stillness seeped through the door; my fingers quivered at its touch. Again, I hesitated.

I shook myself, and with another brash movement I locked the door. There. The creature inside was as trapped as I could hope to make him. Locks and keys had never done much to keep the Ghost away before, but it was as best as I could manage. And the key I slipped into my pocket rested there with a comforting weight.

I walked outside the cabin quickly, sharply, and began climbing the metal steps up toward the upper deck. The salt wind whipped across my face, tearing some of my hair out of its tightly wound bun. At last I reached the highest deck, uppermost on the ship save for the tall smokestacks that towered above us.

I spotted Meg at the far end of the deck, her hair and skirt whipping around her as she stared out into the sea. Once again I noticed how very lean and gaunt she had become. I walked up to the railing of the ship to join her. Meg looked at me, and I was shocked to see a depth in her eyes that I had only seen once before in my life, in the dark room below.

Meg gave me a feeble smile, and for a moment she looked so fragile that the strong wind could have surely blown her away. Bitter anger welled up inside of me as I patted her arm and looked out into the sea myself.

The Ghost did well to starve himself. Should he continue, it was unlikely he would survive the crossing to America. I would be only too glad to leave his corpse behind as we disembarked, leave his rotting flesh for some unlucky cleaner to come across. At least then we would be free of his dark magic, free to continue our lives. Meg would grow fat and content in our new flat, supported by the substantial remnants of the Ghost's salary that had not been spent on procuring a first class suite on the ship. And I, who had so foolishly spared his life in France, would not feel an ounce of guilt for it. And so the Ghost's reign would finally end.

Alrighty - here's where I want to put up a bit of a disclaimer. I am painfully aware that the first chapters have been angst-ridden and dark. This will change. I don't like angsty darkness, and so the second I can jerk the characters out of their 'woe-is-me'-ness, I will. Just in case a few of you were wondering if this was what the whole flippin' thing is going to read like. Nope. It won't.

As always, review! I read all of them many times, and they really motivate me to write another chapter! Thanks!