A/N: Merry Christmas! Happy Yule! Joxeus Noel, Felix Navidad, Happy Hannukah, Happy Ramadan, and all the rest! The sun is returning!!!

Complete coincidence, but look! The next chapter is the climax! And it's a nice, long one, too. So here you go, and Merry Everything!

Dear Santa, for Yule this year I'd like lots of reviews from everyone who reads this. I've been very good and updated regularly and everything. Thanks, ~Kryss ;-)

Chapter 8: Understanding

"We should have grabbed cutting boards or something," Kir complained. She was doing her best to mince an onion as fine and juicy as she could, but a pocket knife and a plastic bag on the floor was not the same as a counter and a proper knife. Or a dicer. Better yet, a blender. The fumes were making her eyes water.

"They would have missed them," said Su. "Besides, we were a bit distracted."

"Yeah," said Megan. "Like, who was she talking to, anyways? And why'd she come over?"

"I bet it was Mrs. McKay," said Randy, trying unsuccessfully to pound a heap of cloves into powder with the heel of a shoe. "Her cabin is right by there; she probably looked out the window at just the right time and saw the flashlights or something."

"Wrong time, you mean," grunted Su. "Damn. This stuff reeks, Sarah."

"Yeah, I know," Sarah commiserated. "But it should help. You done with that onion, Kir?"

Kir sat back and looked at the pulpy mess. "Yeah, it's as diced as it's gonna get. Is the garlic ready, Su?"

"Pretty much. We just mix it all together, Sarah?"

"Yeah. You may as well add the cloves too, Randy."

"Yeah." Randy brushed cloves off the sole and tossed it aside in disgust. "Sneakers are too damned soft to crush anything with."

"I don't think I'm gonna get the rosemary or whatever this is any smaller, either." Megan hopped down off her bunk and poured what looked like a handful of crushed dried pine needles on top of the onion mess. The others added theirs, and Sarah borrowed Kir's knife to stir it all together, muttering under her breath as she did so.

"What, is that, like, magic or something?" asked Su.

"In a manner of speaking," Sarah replied absently. "Who has that spray bottle?"

"Here," Kir handed it over. "So, that was, like, a spell?" she asked, curious, as Sarah unscrewed the top.

"Mmm. More of a… um, sort of telling the, um, the spirits of the spices what we're going to be doing with them, and asking for their help." Sarah sounded faintly embarrassed.

"Why the knife? Could you have just used your finger, or was that part of the spell?"

"Well, it wouldn't have hurt anything if I used my finger, but if I went and forgot and rubbed my eyes… Plus the knife is, like, more formal. Here, hold the bottle." She carefully gathered up the mushy mess in the bag, and squeezed the juice out into the bottle. She only got an ounce or two, but it sure did reek.

"Too bad we don't still have Melanie's anathame around," mused Randy. "I mean, if a jack knife makes a difference."

"A knife is a knife," Sarah said, screwing the top back on. She gave the trigger a few experimental pulls, priming the sprayer. "An anathame isn't any more effective than a bread knife; it just costs more. Plus it's more obvious."

"Obvious? Obviously what?"

"Obviously some kind of ritualistic tool. At best, people are gonna think you're, like, some kind of D&D freak or something. If you just use a regular jack knife no one asks weird questions. Except for you guys," she grinned.

"So what do we do with the rest?" asked Su. "I mean, I guess we take it with us, but I don't really want to be hauling around a handful of that crap…"

"Don't insult the spices," Sarah chided. "Not when we're asking for their help. Anyways, we can just cut the bag up and make sachets, sort of."

Doing so was easier (and less messy) to say than to do, but somehow they managed, although they all reeked pretty heavily by the time they were done. "Damn, I smell like I tripped in an Italian kitchen!" complained Su. "I sure hope this stuff works."

"It will," Sara assured them. "I've used a mix like this before. It'll work fine on ghosts."

"And if he's just some nutbar serial killer, all I'm going to have to do is rub my hands in his eyes," said Kir, trying to wipe the worst of the mess off her hands. "Ugh."

"Yeah, that's a good point," said Sarah. "Until you get a chance to scrub your hands really, really well, make sure you don't rub your eyes!"

"Don't pick your nose, either," grinned Randy.

"Ew."

"Yeah, don't be gross, Randy," laughed Kir.

"Oh em gee, you guys," said Megan, rolling her eyes, "Do you always have to—" She stopped suddenly, stiffening.

"What is it?" Kir asked, worried.

"Do you guys hear that?" asked Megan in a small voice. She sounded scared.

"No… Guys?" Kir looked around as Randy peeked out a window, but everyone shook their heads. "Is it him?"

"Yeah." Megan huddled her arms to her chest. "Guys, I can't do this. I can't go out there."

"You can do it," Kir said.

"You have to do it," added Su, looking worried. "We can't keep getting together like this every night—we're gonna get caught."

"He's totally going to kill me! Oh God, why won't he shut up!" She pressed her fists over her ears, squeezing her eyes tight shut.

"Come on," Sarah said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "We'll all be there with you. We'll be right behind you. We won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

"Besides, you're soaking in the friendly spices," added Kir.

"Plus, dude, it's the Phantom of the Opera," said Su. "Like, the Phantom! How can you resist?"

"I can't resist!" Megan rocked back and forth. "I don't know what to do…"

"Don't do anything," Sarah said gently, pulling Megan's hands down. "Just listen to him. It'll be okay."

Megan stared into her eyes for a minute. "He needs me," she said finally. "I have to go." Her face crumpled. "But I'm scared!" she wailed.

"It's okay," said Kir. "Here, don't think about it. Just get your shoes on. No big deal." She bent over and stuffed Megan's sneaker onto her foot, and laced it up as Su grabbed the other one.

"Here, put your jacket on." Sarah helped to feed her arms in.

"He's really the Phantom?" Megan squeaked.

"Yeah," Su replied, "It's really him. The Phantom of the goddamned Opera. Just like you always dreamed."

"Okay. I can do this. I think. If it's the Phantom." She paused, then added, "But it doesn't sound like the Phantom…"

"He sounds like the Phantom's supposed to sound," said Randy. "You know. Amazing."

"Right. Really the Phantom. I can do this."

"You totally can, Megan!" Kir encouraged.

"The Phantom. Right." Megan stood up, and headed for the door, but hesitated.

"Are you sure he's the Phantom?"

"Yes, he's the Phantom!" they chorused back.

"But wait," said Randy. "This is important—"

"I know it's important! I wouldn't be going out there if it wasn't!" Megan was beginning to look a little wild-eyed again.

"Yeah, I know. But listen! This is really important. I don't know if he's got his mask on or not. But either way, he's not Gerik!"

"I know that!"

"No, I mean, really. He's gonna be really scary-looking, okay? Even if he does have his mask on."

"Randy, I don't think this'll help…" Kir said helplessly, but Randy cut her off.

"No, dammit, this is important! If you go out there expecting Gerik, then you're gonna freeze when you see the real Erik. You might even scream. And if you show you're afraid of him, then he will kill you."

"Not helping, Randy," Megan muttered.

"Listen!" Randy had a slightly wild look about her; Kir was afraid she was going to grab Megan and shake her. "When he thought that Christine loved him, he was gentle with her. He was a total gentleman. Stay calm, speak softly, and don't let him see that he scares you."

"But he does scare me," Megan said, clutching her jacket tight.

Kir had a sudden flash of inspiration. "Pfft," she said, waving away Megan's objections. "He's just a guy. A music teacher. He's just some cranky old music teacher guy. You can take him."

"Yeah," added Su. "Remember that cow Mrs. Adams, the first year? Remember what you did to her?"

Megan's back straightened slightly; she grinned slightly nastily. "What did she do?" Kir whispered to Randy.

"Let's just say Mrs. Adams never came back for a second go, and leave it at that," Randy whispered back.

"Yeah. Yeah, just some music teacher guy." Megan's chin rose.

"Some old music teacher guy," added Sarah.

"Some lame-ass, skinny old bastard music teacher guy," chorused Randy, adding quietly to Kir, "And Erik forgive me for saying that…"

"Right!" Megan's eyes flashed. "Don't think I'm good enough, huh? Don't like my choice in music, huh? We'll just see about that!"

"Right on!" Su grabbed the lantern off the table as Sarah opened the door. "You go, girl!"

"Go, Megan!"

"Go slap a bitch, girl!"

"Right! Take this, Mr. Phantom!" Megan stalked through the door.

"Think she's got a shot?" Kir asked Randy as they grabbed their own flashlights and hurried after.

"What? Of winning? Or of surviving?" Randy grinned humorlessly.

"Either."

"Ask me in an hour."

Megan was a pale shape at the edge of the lantern light. The girls kept their flashlights off, as agreed. Kir had a firm grip on her squishy little bundle of ghost-repelling spices inside her pocket, though; the others, she noted, all had hands in their pockets, too.

All but Megan. Her hands hung loosely at her sides, now, not clenched in angry defiance. She was almost ghostly herself in the wan moonlight, her hair a pale cloud down her back. She floated smoothly along the path, like she was almost waltzing to the singing only she could hear. Not at all like her usual exuberant bounce. It was freaky.

All was silent.

They followed her down the path to the fire pit, but hung back at the edges of the clearing as she entered the ring of logs and stood, alone, silently waiting.

She didn't have long. The drizzle eased off, and a cool breeze seemed to blow the moon clear of the clouds. Kir jumped and almost screamed. Somehow, between one heartbeat and the next, what she would have sworn were nothing but elongated shadows, cast by the branches, somehow became the elongated figure of a man.

He still looked wrong, though. He was too thin, much too thin. And too tall; even with just the black silhouette he seemed to be nothing more than a skeleton. He had no face. Two patches of yellow light flashed in a darker shape against the night.

Kir heard Randy exhale. "The black silk mask," she breathed, almost too quietly for Kir to hear. "He's got his mask on, at least. My god. It really is him."

The black silhouette glided closer to Megan, his pace unnaturally smooth. It gestured, like a prince inviting her to dance, thought Kir, and Megan began to sing, to harmonize. It sounded weird without the main melody to support it, and it made Kir's neck prickle. But then, ever so slightly, she thought she could just hear a hint of the song she was singing to. Of his voice.

Megan, though, was in trouble. Her singing didn't sound too bad to Kir, certainly not as bad as The Rationalists seemed to think. She was definitely better than Kir. But the man, the shadow of a man, seemed to think differently. He leant towards her again, but this time, rather than a courteous partner, every line of his body implied threat. Megan's voice faltered, and his hand snaked out to her throat—

"Monsieur le Fantôme! Attendez!"

Kir could feel Randy shaking beside her, but her voice was steady. Well, considering. The—Kir couldn't really see its—his?—head, but the eyes shifted suddenly as if he had whipped his head around to stare in their direction. "Qui est là?"

"C'est moi, monsieur." Randy stepped forward. "Uh, parlez-vous l'anglais?"

"Et pour quel raison? Vous parlez français."

"Um, je parle le français tres mal, monsieur. Je suis américaine."

"Évidemment*. What is it that you want?" His voice, that incredible voice, was dry. Megan's knees had buckled; she looked about to faint, Kir thought. She still dangled from his hand, ignored. Kir was pretty sure she was still alive, though, although she wasn't moving too much.

"I want to help you, Monsieur." Randy took another step forward.

"Really. And that is for why? What help is it that you think I need?"

"You don't belong here. This isn't your time. I want to help you find peace."

The man—ghost?—shade—growled low in his throat. "Peace! What have I ever known of peace? The only peace I ever found was Christine. These ones—" he shook Megan roughly—"These ones called me back from the dark and promised me Christine! And they have given me what? Nothing but foolish weeping girls with no voices at all." He shook her again like a rag doll before flinging her aside. Megan crumpled at his feet in a boneless heap. He stepped over her, ignoring her, and advanced on Randy, menace in every pace. "And now you promise me peace! What peace can you bring to me, girl?"

Randy was shaking so bad Kir could hear her teeth chatter, but she stood her ground. Perhaps she couldn't move. But as the dark shape reached for her in turn, she managed to squeak out one word. "Erik."

He paused, his hand still outstretched, his fingers almost brushing her throat. "Qu'avez-vous dit?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

"Erik." Randy swallowed visibly. "Erik, Christine's not here. She's gone. She went long ago. Don't you remember? You let her go."

"Je… je l'ai libéré. Oui. Quand… quand elle m'a embrassé…" The two golden glows winked out as though he closed his eyes.

"Yes, that's right," Randy said softly, leaning away slightly from the fingers that still almost brushed her throat. "When she kissed you, and cried with you, and did not die!"

He covered his face with his hands suddenly, gave a great sob, and was still for a long time. Finally he asked, "What became of her?" His voice was strangely unmuffled despite his hands.

"You let her go," Randy repeated, her voice sympathetic. "You let her go, and she promised to return to bury you—and she did."

The man—the Phantom—sighed. "She was a good girl…" He dropped his hands. "Was she…was she happy? With him?"

"You know the answer to that," Randy replied gently.

Su spoke suddenly in Kir's ear, making her jump. "Come on. If we're quiet we might be able to sneak around behind him and get Megan out of there. I think she's hurt."

"What about… what about him?" Kir swallowed. "Won't he notice?"

"He's too focused on Randy," Su whispered back. "We may not have another chance. Come on!" She tugged on Kir's arm, and they carefully edged away.

Kir really wanted to hear the rest of it, but they were both speaking so quietly that she couldn't listen and watch her feet at the same time. She followed slowly through the bush after Su, moving as carefully and quietly as she could. She didn't have any concentration left over for listening; it was hard enough to remember to breathe.

Megan had fallen perhaps thirty feet from where Kir had been standing, but Kir thought that, sneaking around the side through the bush, they must have covered a hundred feet, easy. It took a long time before they were crouched down next to her.

"Is she…" Megan was limp; when Kir touched her cheek it was cool.

"She's fine. She's just unconscious. Grab her feet."

Kir really, really didn't want to take even those few steps closer to that spooky bastard, let alone turn her back on him, but Su had already bent down and was easing her hands under Megan's arms. Kir scurried over and did her best to get a grip on Megan's legs. Grabbing handfuls of her jeans behind her knees sort of helped, and between the two of them, they half carried, half dragged her away and into the bush.

"How far should we go?" Kir gasped as quietly as she could. "I don't know if I can carry her much—" She tripped over a root or something and almost dropped her. "Dammit, I can't see anything!"

"The further the better," Su grunted, tripped, and fell on her ass. "Fuck."

Kir dropped Megan's legs and helped roll her off Su. "Why hasn't she woken up?" She asked.

"I don't know," Su said shortly. "We really need to get her into bed and warm, but we can't carry her that far. Come on." She brushed the larger sticks and things away, took off her jacket, and spread it out. "Help me move her over," she said, and grabbed her arms again.

Kir grabbed Megan's knees again, and together they manhandled her onto the jacket. They used Kir's jacket as a blanket.

"Can you do anything?" Kir whispered anxiously, as Su lifted Megan's eyelids and felt her pulse.

"Not really. It's too dark, and I only know basic stuff anyways. I think she's just had a shock. Her pulse is okay, I think, though, and she's breathing, at least. Do you know any first aid?"

"Um, I can splint a broken arm, I guess. If I can remember how. And I think I can remember some CPR…"

"Okay, then, you go and keep an eye on Randy and them," Su whispered. She sat down and lifted Megan's head into her lap. "I'll keep an eye on Megan. If I need you, I'll—I'll hoot like an owl. Okay?"

"'k'," whispered Kir, and crept away.

The Phantom's back was still to her; she couldn't see what was happening past him very well. He was really, really skinny, almost like a stick figure of a man in the dark, but ragged clouds were blowing past the moon and she couldn't figure out what was happening in the thin shifting moonlight for a minute.

The sound of chanting came faintly to her ears, though, although she couldn't make out what was being said. If she squinted she could kind of see Sarah standing next to Randy, waving her arms around. She must be doing a banishing or something, Kir thought.

She didn't know what to expect; something like a flash of light maybe, or, like, maybe there'd be a rustling creepy noise and, like, there'd be all these other ghosts dragging him away like in that Whoopie Goldberg movie her mom liked. At the least there should have been a rumble of thunder or a bolt of lightning or something. But all that happened was that the shadowy stick figure of a man seemed to tremble suddenly, and then he just… blew away, like smoke in the wind.

In the growing moonlight Randy turned to Sarah and buried her face in her shoulder, as an owl hooted in the distance.

An owl! Shit! thought Kir, and dashed back to Su.

Megan was still lying in Su's lap, shivering violently now, but her eyes were open. "Wh-wh-wha'appen'?" she mumbled, looking terrified.

"He just disappeared," Kir said. "I'm not sure, but I think it's over."

"We need to get her inside," Su said, as they heard Sarah call "Guys?" in the distance.

"Get them over here to help," ordered Su.

Kir picked her way back to the clearing as fast as she could and waved them over. "Where's Megan?" asked Sarah as they jogged over.

"Back here," Kir said, leading the way. "Su's with her. She's awake, but Su wants to get her inside. We need your help."

"Is she okay? Oof." Sarah bumped into Kir as she stopped by Megan and Su.

"Let's just get her inside," Su said shortly. "Come on, Megan," she added, "You have to sit up now."

Between the four of them they managed to get her upright; they linked hands to make a seat. Somehow they managed to get her back to the clearing without falling or dropping her, and struggled back up the path.

"Where should we go?" asked Kir. "Our cabin?"

"No, not warm enough," grunted Su. "Kitchen."

"I'll go get Mrs. McKay," volunteered Randy. She disengaged and dashed off.

By the time the rest of them had manhandled a still-blurry Megan to the hall, Randy was holding the door open for them, Janet beside her.

"Put her on the chairs next to the stove," ordered Janet, and led the way inside.

"Told 'em she fell off her bunk," Randy whispered as they went past.

Mrs. McKay was blowing gently on the small flames licking the kindling in the big wood stove. "Put her right there, girls," she said, gesturing to several chairs pushed together to make a rough bench. "Help her lie down if she wants to, and then get some more lanterns lit, please."

Megan sank onto the hard chairs with a sigh. Kir helped her to arrange herself without pushing them apart, as Janet came over carrying the single lit lantern.

"Hold this," she ordered, thrusting it at Kir, and knelt to examine Megan. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"Um, she fell out of her bunk?" Kir said uncertainly. "I think… I think she was having a nightmare or something. I'm not sure. I was sort of asleep myself…"

Janet glanced at her but didn't say anything. Kir wasn't sure she believed her, though. Still, she pretty much ignored Kir as she finished her careful examination, and left Miriam to cover her with a scratchy-looking blanket she'd just arrived with.

Janet stood up and looked at Kir, then the others. She still didn't say anything, but she seemed to be thinking hard. Behind them, Mrs. McKay swung the stove closed with a clang, making the girls jump guiltily. Janet sighed.

"Megan, you stay here and get warm. The rest of you, come with me. Kirsten, bring the lantern." She turned and headed out into the darkness of the hall. The rest of them glanced uneasily at each other and followed, as Mrs. McKay noisily filled the large kettle at the sink.

Janet was sitting at one of the tables. Kir set the lantern in the middle as they sat opposite her, relieved to be rid of it. She kept thinking she was going to burn her hand on it.

Janet looked at them and sighed. "Look. Don't tell me any stories about Megan falling out of her bunk, all right? You're all dressed, you all look freezing, and you're all covered with twigs and leaves. I know you were all wandering around outside again. But we'll deal with that later, okay? Right now I need to know what really happened to Megan, because I can't help her if I don't know what injuries to look for, okay? She hasn't got any goose eggs on her head, she's not bleeding, and there's no broken bones. I know she didn't fall. So what happened?"

The girls slowly looked at each other. Finally, Su nodded. "She got pretty shaken up," she said.

"Yes, I can see that she's shaken, but what happened?" Janet said, a bit impatiently.

"No, like, you know, shaken. Pretty hard." Su mimed shaking someone by their throat. "She might have whiplash."

"He dropped her too, but she went down pretty gently," Kir added. "She was already on her knees."

"Who shook her?" When no one answered, she added sharply, "I don't care why you're trying to protect them—"

"No, no," Sarah jumped in; "We're not trying to protect anyone. It's not like that."

"We just don't think you'll believe us," grumbled Randy, slouching a little lower in the chair.

Janet sat back and crossed her arms. "Try me."

So they did. They really did. They told Janet about the girls from Cabin C trying to summon the Phantom of the Opera. They told her of their suspicions that he had killed Melanie and Triffy ("Hell, we even proved it," Randy grumbled later). They told her of him calling to Megan too ("That was the weird singing Triffy said that Melanie said she had heard," interjected Kir), and of the kitchen raid (at which Janet rolled her eyes), and of the final confrontation with the Phantom, and of the banishing ("Laying him to rest," Sarah corrected). And they told her about hauling Megan's semi-conscious butt through the woods to the hall.

Kir was pretty sure that was the only part that Janet believed. Okay, maybe she believed them about the kitchen raid, too. But she was positive that Janet had thoroughly dismissed the rest of it. And she was pretty sure the others were thinking the same thing; she could see it on their faces.

And sure enough, after taking a minute after they wound down to absorb it all, the condescending began. "I'm sure this has been a very difficult time for you all," Janet began, "And I can understand why you're trying to tie all of this in with your little 'magic spell.' It's perfectly natural; our brains want to make sense of the world, and so sometimes they… Sometimes they come up with stories to tell us, that seem to fit everything we know, but it doesn't mean it's actually true. It's like the way people used to think that thunder was giants in the sky, because that was the only way they could explain it—"

"This wasn't some sort of mass hallucination!" Su began angrily, but Sarah patted her arm.

"It's okay, really," she said. "I know it all seemed really real at the time, but, well, she's right; it's totally not possible to just summon a ghost that easily. Right? Especially not the ghost of a fictional character." She glanced meaningfully at Kir and Randy.

"Yeah, I guess not," mumbled Randy, looking sullen. "Sure did fit the facts nicely, though."

"Yeah, but Sarah's right; it's totally not possible. Not for real." Kir grimaced, but gamely played along. "We were probably all just getting too caught up in 'Phantom,'" she couldn't help adding.

Su glared at her for a moment, but as Kir struggled to keep a straight face she relaxed. "Yeah, I guess maybe it was some kind of mass hallucination at that. You know. All those tree shadows and stuff."

Janet looked relieved. "There you go. Well, maybe now that 'the Phantom' has been defeated everything can go back to normal, huh? There's only a week to go until the recital, and we want you to all sound your best!" She smiled at them, a bit too brightly.

She seemed to take their half-hearted mumbles as enthusiastic agreement. "Wonderful. Oh! And I see that Mrs. McKay has something nice and hot for you all to drink. Why don't you all go and get warmed up, and then get back to bed? It's way past Lights Out."

She stood, smiled at them all again, and hurried back into the kitchen. Kir could see her bending over Megan again.

"Well, that could have gone better," muttered Randy. If she slumped any lower, Kir was pretty sure she'd slide off the chair.

"Well, what did you all expect?" asked Sarah bitterly. "Did you all think she'd just take our word for it? You guys barely believed me, and you saw that there was weird stuff going on. None of us wanted to believe Randy about Melanie, and we all saw her hanging there. We saw she couldn't have done it by herself, and we still didn't want to believe it was murder. So why the hell should Janet believe us when we tell her that some stupid fictional character killed them after they somehow summoned him from beyond the grave?" She snorted. "Now you know why I don't wear a pentagram or anything openly."

Su sighed. "Yeah… Still blows, though."

"Look on the bright side," said Kir. "At least she just thinks our over-active, stressed-out teenage brains were playing tricks on us. She could be calling our parents to come and have us committed."

"Yeah, I guess there's that," admitted Randy. She got a faraway look in her eyes for a moment. "It wasn't all a dream, was it, guys? I mean, you all saw him too, right?"

"Yeah, we did," said Kir.

Su added, "Megan didn't do that to herself. Jesus, I almost peed myself when he started shaking her like that!"

Sarah just said, "It was real," and looked at her hands.

"Wow. Guys, you know what that means?" Randy grinned suddenly. "I totally met the Phantom!"

A/N: *(translated from the French, just in case) "Mr. Phantom! Wait!" "Who's there?" "It's me, Mister. Do you speak English?" "Why? You speak French." "I speak French really badly, Mister. I'm American." "Obviously."

And, later,

"What did you say?" and "I… I let her go. Yes. When… when she kissed me."

One more chapter to go! Stuff my stockings with reviews and I'll post it Saturday, lol! ~Kryss