I apologize, my friends for the long wait in my update! I have gotten so bad lately, I promise I will try to update sooner! Unfortuneately I do not know where I will go with this once I finish the story, since this was merely a retelling of sorts. I hope that these last few chapters will leave you breathless and engaged!

Much love ,

PryingPandora

XI

A million false faces pt. 2

Erik:

The festivities were already underway. He could hear the resounding laughter and the orchestra playing, the chorus of voices singing made a very cheerful atmosphere. Glancing down happily he was gifted with the sight of his breathtaking Christine's smile, her eyes bright and cheerful. His heart was soaring as he strode arm in arm, her delicate hand resting atop his forearm.

Christine, how my heart quickens for you. My life complete just in knowing you have affection for a man such as I….

In his other hand he felt the heavy weight of the leather binder, his latest Aria penned out for those greedy fools who called themselves the owners of HIS opera house. Anger sparked in his heart as he thought of those fools running the Opera, but a soft elated sigh that escaped his beloved's lips diffused it as fast as it had come.

Stopping just before the entrance to the winding stairwell to the Ball Room he turned, gently unwinding Christine's arm from his. Her face lighting up the darkness in his soul as he grasped her hand and planted a brushing kiss across her knuckles.

"Christine….you are mine, and mine alone. My lark that sings in the midnight of my soul. I hope tonight will be all you wish it to be. Understand that once we enter, I will address all in a commanding manner, I must remind those….men who truly owns this opera house. Afterword we shall dance if you so wish."

Her face flushed deeply, the sight easing a smirk onto his lips. Her eyes searching his, probing and kind as she turned her hand in his grasp as to link their fingers together. As a smile played across her voluptuous lips her voice carried softly into his ears, an angel song, " I do not fear Maestro, as the night is already been far more than I could have ever imagined. I am ready to enter, to be the one upon your arm, the Angel to the Death."

He could not help but smile at her words, how courageous his Christine is, how beautiful and innocent. With a slow nod he acknowledged her reply, and taking his hand from hers he cupped her face and brushed his lips across hers gently. A spark jumping between them at the contact, causing his suit to feel a size to small. Taking his Angel's hand they commenced to make their grand appearance.

Christine:

As they entered the room, the organ below let out a great bellow. The music punctuating their appearance, shocking and frightening the crowd. The room grew silent, all eyes were upon them, she could feel the stares of all the patrons. Their costumes creating just as much awe and shock as their entrance. Her gown taking on the look of a lit candle as it was illuminated by the many candelabras elaborately placed around, the only sound in the place the sound of the organ and the clicks of her shoes upon the marble as her Maestro lead her down the stairs, his voice ringing out as cold and authoritative as he said it would be.

" Why so silent, good messieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good? Have you missed me good messieurs? I have written you an opera-"

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, she could tell that he glanced her way, ever so slightly, as if to say, "slip away into the crowd, I will find you." As he held her hand aloft, his powerful voice cascading over all in the vicinity, she slipped her hand out of his gently. Feeling as if she was leaving and abandoning him she quickly walked toward the atrium, out of the ballroom and out of the sight of so many eyes.

" Here I bring the finished score, Don Juan Triumphant!" To punctuate his words he drew his sword and tossed the leather bound book upon the marble stairs. The metal leaving the sheath with a metallic hiss. As he sang he played with his sword, she watched from the doorway, almost peering out as a child would. "Fondest greetings to you all, a few instructions just before rehearsal starts…"

Erik:

Striding over he pointed his sword at La Carlotta, a vile sneer crossing his features. His cape trailing behind him and his presence unnerving everyone, just as he had hoped. " Carlotta must be taught how to act," The shocked look upon her face such a gratifying reaction, the dark part of his soul devouring the fear he is instilling. Leaning forward he ruffled the feathers in her hat with the tip of his sword, causing Pangi to stiffen at her side, turning he gently poked at the fat man's belly. " Not her normal act of strutting around the stage, our Don Juan must lose some weight it's not healthy in a man of Pangi's age."

Strutting toward the insolent fools that called themselves the managers of his opera house, swirling the sword in a graceful arc, "And my managers must learn that their places is in an office, not the arts!" To punctuate his statement he thrust his sword at the idiots' faces, causing the men to blanch and the crowd to gasp. Pleased with their pitiful reactions he smirked, when suddenly a loud commotion resounded behind him.

Turning with a scowl he faced the source of the commotion, his mood blackening immediately. Rage, hot and blinding overcame him as he saw his sweet Christine being pawed at by, surprise, none other than the Vitcome himself. Striding forward with a face to match his mask, the crowd parted to let him through.

He reached them just as Christine threw Raoul off, causing him to stumble toward the Phantom. With his fee hand he gripped the Patron's coat, the stench of liquor pouring off the man in waves. With an angry growl he shoved the offending drunkard forward, causing him so hit the floor like a tossed coat. He stood his ground, towering over the pitiful figure as he scrambled to his feet. Closing in the gap he reached out to grab the man again when he heard the distinctive hiss of metal against metal.

Jumping back like a leathe cat he avoided Raoul's drunken swing. A flurry of gasps and shocked murmurs resounded in the room, the party goers swiftly retreating to the edges of the room like frightened cattle.

" She…..She is MINE you phony ghost! You are but a m-m-man who preyed upon Christine!"

His drunken rant grating against his nerves. The beast hidden inside of himself clawing to get free…to spill his guts upon the white marble. Supressing his greatest urges he circled his foe, deciding that killing him would be an unwise idea in the presence of his gentle and no doubt frightened Christine. Suddenly the Vitcome lunged forward, his sword aimed for his guts, the clang of steel on steel filled the room as they danced their dance around each other. Each meeting punctuated by the loud screech of metal, he controlled the match, shoving the drunken bastard around the room. Suddenly Raoul had him pinned against the banister, his liquor loaded breath wafting into his face as they strained against the steel separating each other. Twisting upon the banister he swept his cape into his foe's face, disorienting the man and sending him twirling off balance on the marble steps. With a swift flick of his wrist he slashed his sword across the man's chest, eliciting a loud yell and a chorus of gasps from the crowd.

Triumphant he stalked forward toward his hunched and bleeding foe, with a hard kick to the back sent him sprawling in the middle of the crowd. With shrieks and screams the crowd scrambled, almost trampling each other in an attempt to escape. A thick red mist covered his vision, the lust for blood clouding his mind. Kicking the prone man over so he could see his face, he sneered at him. The Vitcome's lip was split and bleeding, his jacket long discarded and the front of his chest covered in thick crimson. Kicking aside the fallen man's weapon he raised his sword with a feral growl to take his kill-

Suddenly a piercing shriek filled the room, causing him to whip around, and running toward him as fast as she could was his Christine. Fear and terror filling her lovely features, "NO! Please no! Not like this!" As quick as he could he sheathed his sword just as her tiny form plowed into him, sobbing and clinging to him. His mind returning from the brink of madness the implications of what he was about to do surged in.

His breath rattling in his chest he clutched his beloved's sobbing form to his chest. In a daze he surveyed the room, the white terrified faces stared back at him. His heart hitting the floor he slowly looked down at the sobbing girl clinging to him for dear life. Reality turned into horror as he scooped the hysterical Christine into his arms and briskly walked to the center of the ballroom and with a flash of smoke and fire they disappeared into the underground tunnel below.

What have I done…..my poor….poor….Christine…..