A/N: Thank you to all my awesome readers and reviewers! Here's another one just for you ;) Please don't forget to let me know what you thought of it, and there will be plenty more surprises next time :) I must warn you that this week I'll be heading back to work so I won't update as quickly as I'd like to, but I do plan on continuing the story whenever I can get to it. Thanks for your support - enjoy! PS - I own nothing but OCs, any stories, authors and their characters, and musicians belong to themselves.

Chapter Eight – Secrets in the Dark

"How many tunnels are there?!"

Melody was beginning to see why she shouldn't have come back, having been taking several turns and paths for nearly half an hour, considering herself to be lost even with the photos she snapped on her phone to help her find the way back. The most frustrating part of it all was that there was neither hide nor hair of either Opera Ghost or Phantom. Growling in frustration, she imagined that her siblings, as well as the Chevaliers, were probably getting suspicious at this point. She couldn't imagine what would happen if she was caught, and she certainly didn't plan on having that happen either.

"I'll just retrace my steps," she whispered to herself, her voice softly echoing in the halls, almost eerily. "Listen to me, talking to myself," she rolled her eyes. "I come to look for ghosts and talk to myself in the meanti- AH!" Melody released a screech as a group of rats scurried past, squeaking as their tails swished anxiously. "Geez!" she gasped, placing her hand over her heart as she caught her breath. "Rats…this place has rats. You'd think they'd call pest control-"

"Oh, but they 'ave, mon petit."

The sound of the raspy, grated voice made the girl spin around in fear, another yelp escaping her as she saw a bent men in his late fifties holding up a flashlight in one hand and a bulging sack in the other. He wore baggy clothes and a scraggly beard, his eyes shadowed by the old cap on his head. He looked her up and down suspiciously, seemingly unamused that there was someone else wandering about.

"Wh-who…are you?" she asked, her voice but a squeak as she struggled to translate her words into French.

"I'm the rat-catcher, dearie. What do I look like?" he answered gruffly.

She refrained from answering right away, glancing around to see if there were any doors nearby, but no such luck. "…I didn't know there were still, um, 'rat-catchers' in today's profession."

"Mockin' me, eh?" he huffed. "How's about I show you that I'm serious about me work, missy!" He leaned over, opening the bag in the hopes of showing her all the corpses he carried, but she took the opportunity to stomp on his foot. "Merde!" he cursed, dropping the bag to clutch his foot.

Melody took this opportunity to ran, turning on her heel and trekking even further into the unknown darkness, despite her better judgment. Grasping her phone tightly, her only source of light in the dank, pitch black tunnels, she made a sharp turn and slammed her back to the wall. Gasping for breath, she fought to calm herself and regain her balance, pressing her hand against one of the many old stones. No sooner had she committed the action, the entire section of wall she was leaning against arose, sending her falling onto her posterior. "OW!" she cried, wincing as she turned onto her knees and forced herself up, groping blindly at the wall.

"Where'd you go, girly?!"

She could hear the Rat-catcher's voice echo and bounce off the walls, mingling with the constant 'drip-drip' of the ancient catacombs. Whipping her head to and fro, she contemplated whether to let the old creeper catch her or to go even further into the old vaults of the theater.

"Mon Dieu! It's you!" the rat-catcher gasped, making her freeze for a split second. Without another word, she ran down, holding her phone out in front of her as she pushed on into the darkness, the secret door closing behind her to encase her in the new passage. "Oh, man!" she moaned, peering hopelessly into the shadows. "I'm in deep, deep crap! Maybe I can make a phone call…?"

Arriving at the bottom of the winding staircase that she had stumbled upon, she hurried off of the last step and ran down the hall. Up ahead, a soft, blue light seem to weakly light the passage, a glimmer of hope flickering within her breast. "Please let it be an opening, please!"

Her steps came to a full stop when she found herself at the mouth of an entrance to a closed off portion of the Opera House. Installed into the walls were artificial torches, whose lights gave off a hazy blue color, enhancing the eeriness of the mist that rolled off the lake to her right, the water swaying slowly, knocking an old rowboat against the dock. Across the lake was yet another dock, as well as a door that had been built into the wall. Up ahead was a wall that appeared to be covered in golden plaques, flower slots and candlestick holders installed beside each name. Some of the candles were, indeed, lit, the wax lazily rolling down to the little dish prepared for them.

"Did I just find the catacombs?" she whispered, turning her phone light off but keeping it clutched tightly in her hand. The mystique of the place entranced her, making her step closer and closer to the wall. Arriving at the structure, she was stunned to find the names of several family members of the Chevaliers engraved on the plaques. "Oh God," she breathed, making a sign of the Cross upon herself as she read some of the names. Her eyes became wide as she found herself reading the names of a married couple that was just above her head. "Erik Chevalier the First, Angelique Chevalier-Archambault," she read aloud softly, her voice a faint echo in the dreary cavity of the bowels of the Garnier. "Could it be…?"

Her thoughts were brought to a halt as a dark shadow fell over her, the torchlights dying altogether. She felt a sudden chill as she noticed how the room darkened, her blood running cold. Looking over her shoulder, she found herself staring into the face of the Opera Ghost, his mask, hat, and cape still intact as his golden eyes glowered at her. A frightened gasp came out of her mouth, but as before, she found she could not scream.

"I thought I told you to get out!" he bellowed at her, his voice bouncing off the cavernous walls with such volume that she winced and covered her ears. As he reached for her, she tossed her phone at him, aiming it for his head. The trick worked, distracting him to catch it and allowing her the chance to escape under his arms. Hurrying back the way she came, she foolishly dared to look back, her foot slipping on a slick, wet spot by the docks. She came down in a heap, crying out in pain as she landed on her side, her body wracked with pain. Curling in agony, she moved to turn onto her back only to have her eyes widen in shock as she felt herself about to fall into the lake.

"Grab her!" a new voice echoed in the air as she felt herself slip off…

A pair of long, thin arms grabbed her around her shoulders and waist just in time, sending her into another flashback.

"Stop it!" the red-headed girl, Angelique, cried, shoving the two fighting men away from the edge, only to have herself slip and fall into the murky waters below. Angelique had never learned how to swim, but she didn't let that stop her. She failed and fought, her mouth opening once in desperateness to scream but that did nothing to help her. She was frightened, cold, and alone, but above all, she was worried for someone…someone that she had come looking for that had gone missing in the Opera house above…

It wasn't until a pair of long, thin arms encircled her did she realize she was certainly not alone in the water. She fought against the figure, her elbow bumping against something smooth. She soon received a fierce tug around her waist, as if the newcomer was warning her to be still for her own good. It soon didn't matter, for she began to lose air…

"Careful!"

Melody felt as though she were choking for air after having seen and felt what the girl – Angelique – had felt when she was knocked over into the lake. Her eyes squeezed shut, she felt the set of arms tug her up, holding her by her arms so tightly that she bit her lip and fought back a cry of pain.

"Be careful!" the second voice scolded her hero once more, and suddenly she was airborne, held aloft in the thin but strong arms.

"When I tell someone to do something, it is for a good reason, Mademoiselle Bolton," the silky, elusive voice of the Opera Ghost informed her, tickling her ear. His voice was magnificent, even if he was angry…it tantalized her, made her want to swoon…it reminded her of Erik, just without the warmth and tenderness. She shivered in his hold, sensing his body tense as the gesture.

"We need to get her out," the other voice insisted, irritating both Melody and the Opera Ghost.

"You think I don't know that? She can't walk at the moment, she's still recovering-"

"I can carry her-"

"No."

Melody sensed a hint of jealousy and possessiveness in the Ghost's voice, his hold on her tightening just a smidge. She wasn't sure whether she want to shove him away or cuddle closer. There was something odd about this man…

Forcing her eyes open, she saw the outline of the mask on the Opera Ghost, and his chin…a chin that appeared gruesome. Sensing that she had opened her eyes, he looked down at her, his eyes still glaring upon her countenance. She could see that both his mouth and chin were expose now, half of it appearing to be a lipless, pale corpse's while the other half appeared to be marred flesh. She gaped in silence until he set her down, stiffening as she grasped his arm for support.

"Get her out," he said quietly, letting his companion take a hold of her from behind.

Looking back, Melody gawked as she saw the second figure. "You!" she exclaimed, the garbs of the Indian coming into view. "How did you-?!"

"I'm afraid you're not at liberty to be asking questions," the Indian spoke sternly, his eyes darting back to the Opera Ghost before giving her a knowing look. His voice was deep and rich, adding to his regal mystique and seniority.

"No! I'm not going anywhere!" she snapped, yanking her arm out of his grip though she winced in pain. Whipping her head around, she returned the Opera Ghost's glare, startling him so much that he blinked in bewilderment. "I have questions, and you have the answers! Ever since I got here, I've been getting flashbacks of memories that I've never experienced, people I've never met…and there are two ghosts invading the Garnier! I don't care if you plan on killing me, I just want to know the truth!"

For a full minute, the Opera Ghost did not answer, nor did his face show any form of emotion as he stared back at her, though his strange, glowing eyes seem to bore into her soul, a hint of curiosity shining through at the last moment. "I cannot give you the answers you seek…not yet."

"Grrrrrgh! Not you, too!" fumed Melody. "Everyone here is treating me like a child – I want to know what the deal is!"

The Opera Ghost took a menacing step towards her, impressed by how she remained steadfast and merely continued to glare back. "My fate is intertwined with the Chevalier family, and I cannot rest until things are made right. Keep this in mind, mademoiselle – Monette and the Phantom are not to be fooled with!"

"But why?!" she pleaded.

"That is all I shall tell you. Now go, and do not attempt to come back the way you came, or I shall not be so considerate next time!...oh, and here's your phone." Tossing it at her without a warning, he waited until she caught it before releasing a smoke pellet, curling himself in his cape and vanishing before her eyes.

"Oh bother," the Indian rolled his eyes, witnessing the spectacle. "That's enough of that. Follow me, Miss." He motioned with his hand for her to move, amused by the look of irritation in her brown eyes. "You really ought to mind your own business-"

"Don't start," she snarled, pointing a finger at him accusingly. "And might I point out that you should be the last person telling me that since I clearly saw you outside my house one night looking up at my window! That's stalking!"

The Indian appeared to blush – she couldn't see in the darkness, but his body language told her she was correct – before clearing his throat and saying, "You don't understand why I was-"

"You're right, I don't understand, because no one will explain! Not you, not Erik, and not even the Opera Ghost himself!" she shouted, her voice bouncing off the walls.

The Indian placed a hand over her mouth, his eyes blazing in fury. "Shh! Do you want the Phantom to hear us?!"

"Let him!" she snapped, shoving him away as she stomped down the hall. "Maybe he'll tell me what's going on!" He caught up with her quickly, tapping her shoulder to her annoyance. "What?"

"I do apologize for that night," he said softly, his eyes darting in the darkness and he pointed the way out for her. "I was asked by a friend to make sure all was well."

"What friend?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. She growled and rolled her eyes as he shook his head. "Of course, you won't tell me." Huffing in frustration, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and shoved her phone into her back pocket.

"Believe me, it's better this way," he protested, coming to a door in the wall.

"No, it's not," she frowned, keeping her eyes trained on him as he tugged on an old, unlit torch, the door sliding horizontally to reveal the south end of the theater, absolutely forgotten for the moment and uninhabited. "I don't suppose the Chevalier's know that you work with the Ghost?"

"I do not work with him, Miss Bolton, but I have been well acquainted with him for many years."

"Then tell him this," she said, stepping forth on her tiptoes so that she might reach his height. "Until someone decides to fill me in on what's going on, I won't stop trying to figure out what the secrets of the Ghost and the Chevalier family are. I'm going crazy waiting for answers, so unless you're going to help me, leave me alone!" With a dramatic turn, she stalked out of the dark passage and entered the Opera house once more, her head held high as her blood boiled in her veins.

The Indian watched her leave, part of him wanting to laugh, the other part of him wanting to shake his head in exhaustion. Rubbing his fingertips against his temples, he raised his eyes to the ceiling and muttered, "Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn, my friend…and you have picked quite the woman."

~OG~

Eight days…

Eight painful days, and no sign of either the Opera Ghost, nor the Phantom…and no answers, either.

Melody had joined the American troop that day after leaving the hidden pathways and the Indian, setting straight to work and practicing with Tom and Rose at her side. Dolores certainly didn't have anything pleasant to say about her return, however, that day Melody had been so fed up with the refusals from both the Opera Ghost and Indian that she vented her frustration through dance, song, and death glares at her old nemesis, which worked rather nicely most days. Melody continued to attend lessons and thrived, her success showing in her practice with the others. She never truly revealed her voice, though, nor had she any intention until the audition date came for them.

The flashbacks continued, though they lost frequency, for which she was grateful…until she started to get dreams every night. Some were pleasant, others horrid, but they were always mysterious, leaving her perplexed when she woke up each morning, her thirst for answers growing stronger each day. She tried to return through the room with the mirror and even the door that the Indian had let her through, but to no avail – both had been blocked from the inside.

After the day she had encountered both the Indian and the Opera Ghost, she was certain that Erik would have found out and been furious with her. If he had found out, he showed no sign that he knew, nor that he was disappointed or angry. The lessons continued on, and he never stopped showing her every bit of kindness that he possess, constantly encouraging her to do her best in all she accomplished.

"So, this Erik fellow…is he cute?" Hailey Bolton asked one afternoon on the phone, a gleeful grin visible through her voice.

"Oh, Mom, stop it!" Melody begged, her face turning pink. As much as she hated to admit it, she loved being close to Erik, and he constantly seemed to reciprocate the feeling, though he never imposed himself, nor suggested anything that would seem he would be interested in going out with her. She wondered whether that was because of her being his pupil, her involvement in the Showcase, or perhaps what she did so many days ago in the catacombs…

"Now, tell me what he's like!" her mother insisted, making her eyes roll.

"He's tall, very elegant, an extremely talented musician and teacher, a real gentleman-"

"His eyes?"

"Blue-green, like the ocean."

"His hair?"

"Black. Why do you ask?"

"You didn't hesitate and told me right away. That means you focus on every little detail about him."

"Mom!" she whined, earning a laugh from the woman.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I'm excited for you! The man convinced you to take lessons, got you to open up, and now you're going to audition for the Showcase! No one could get you to sing in church for over a year after the Dolores incident, and now this guy gets you to belt out songs within a few days of you being in Paris!"

"It's not like that!" she protested. "It's just…he's…I don't know. There's something about him…he's different."

"He must be pretty special if he can get you to want to sing and actually do so within such a short amount of time."

"He's gentle and sincere and…there's something about him…magical and mysterious…" She refrained from telling her about being involved with two ghosts vying for the position of Head of Haunting at the Garnier, just in case.

"Well, I'm happy for you. And I'm so proud!"

"Thanks, Mom."

"Give your siblings and my grandson a kiss, won't you?"

"I promise."

"Thanks…bye, sweetie. Call me again soon, ok?"

"I will…bye, Mom."

Hanging up the call, Melody set her phone aside and sighed, leaning back on her bed when Riley burst into her room. "Hey kiddo," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "What's up?"

"Ok, tell me what you think," he said, showing her the screen of his tablet with several images pulled up. "Would the Opera Ghost or the Phantom be the one to use a Punjab lasso?"

"Riley!" she all but screeched, tugging the device from his hands to gawk at the pictures. "How did you get those pictures?! Those were on my camera-!"

"I copied the files onto here, duh," he answered nonchalantly. "But what do you think-?"

"Riley, your dad didn't see these, did he?" she demanded to know, grasping a hold of his chin.

"No way," he frowned. "I'm not stupid."

"Riles, these pictures are private. No one can know about these. These men are dangerous!"

"Ok, ok! I'll delete them, geez!" he scowled, tugging free from his aunt's grasp. "You act like you're my mom sometimes, Aunt Mel!"

"That's kinda my job," she sighed, ruffling his hair affectionately as he deleted the photos. "…I'm sorry, Riley."

"Don't be sorry, at least you care," he shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean-?"

"My mom's a supermodel who didn't want me and Dad, remember? That's why she left years ago…a divorce, right?"

Melody could sense the sorrow and pain in the boy's voice, reaching over to grab him. Pulling him close, she kissed his forehead and nodded. "Yeah…but you guys deserve better."

"That's ok. I'm betting my allowance that Monique will be my new mom," he said suddenly, grinning mischievously at his aunt.

The young woman's jaw seem to hit the floor at the sudden change of mood, as well as his prediction. "Riley Oliver Bolton, what on earth makes you say that?!"

"It's so obvious dad is crushing on her," he insisted, winking at his aunt before hopping off the bed. "Plus, I watched them when he would visit, and now when they're working together, she starts blushing a lot and smiles and he starts acting all goofy and weird. I'm gonna get a new mom, you just wait and see!"

Melody laughed at the boy's sureness, kissing his forehead. "Here's hoping you're right, Riles." Rising from the bed, she stretched her arms sky high and yawned. "I'm starving. Let's see if Ben wants pasta or stew tonight." Hand in hand, the two of them walked out of the room and made their way down the stairs, nearly crashing into Ben as he began to dash up the steps. "Whoa! Ben, what's the rush?"

"Change into something nice, ladies and gents," he winked. "Tell Rose we've been invited out to dinner."

"Awesome!" Riley exclaimed, running back the way he'd come.

"Whoa, wait a minute," Melody said, holding up her hands in an effort to stop her brother. "Who invited us out?"

"The Chevaliers, who else?" he grinned.

"The Chevaliers did what?" Rose asked, poking her head around the corner. "Riley said we're going out but didn't say where."

"The Chevaliers invited us to their place for dinner, twenty minutes," Ben repeated now that his two sisters were present. "I figured we'd just walk there since the way is short, just a few blocks down."

"Walking in heels…hmm, does not compute," Melody smirked, earning an irritated sigh from her elder sibling.

"Fine, car it is."

"Great! Let's get changed, Mel!" Rose beamed, motioning for her to follow. "We've got to dress you up!"

"Dress me up? Why?" Melody asked, raising an eyebrow at her sister.

Rose grinned back mischievously, shutting the door to Melody's room once they were inside. "Why else? Erik will be there."

~OG~

The Chevaliers lived a large, beautiful home that appeared to be a small manor placed right by the bustling streets of Paris. Arriving before the grand façade, the Bolton family stepped out eagerly into the dying light of day, leaving their car parked by the curb.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Rose asked, gazing upon the magnificent structure.

Melody raised her head, her eyes resting upon the old building. "Yeah, it's-"

"Oh my!" the auburn-haired girl – Angelique – gasped as she saw the pristine white walls and shining silver the three balcony railings displayed.

"Welcome home, Comtesse, Maestro," a tall, dark-haired servant boy grinned at both the girl and masked man.

"Oh God!" she gasped, placing her hand over her heart and taking a step back. She silently cursed herself for still having those irritating flashbacks. Just what was the point of them?!

"I'm starving!" Riley announced as they drew close to the door.

"Mind your manners," Ben scolded him, brushing his hair back before knocking twice on the door. "Remember, this is my bosses' slash friends' house, so don't do anything stupid that will make me look like a moron or I'll be embarrassed for life-"

"Stop rambling, or you'll embarrass yourself," Melody smirked, watching as the doorknob opened to reveal a certain tanned-skinned young man with bright brown eyes and dark spiked hair.

"Tom?!" Rose gasped, her own eyes widening in delight. "What're you doing here?!"

"I live here," he laughed. "Remember? Erik adopted me from the States years ago. Since I'm still attending the University, he insists I stay home and focus on my studies and theater until I get a job and afford my own home."

"Smart man," chuckled Ben, offering Tom his hand. "Good to see ya."

"Likewise, Mr. B," answered Tom, giving Ben his hand and shaking it. "Yo, Riles! What's up, my man?"

"Hey, Tom!" Riley beamed, ecstatic to see the older boy was present. "Can you show me how to skateboard?!"

"Sure, lil' man, but first you owe me a rematch at soccer!" he winked. "C'mon in…" Ushering the group inside and helping them to take off their jackets, he noticed that the girls were not in their usual garbs of jeans or workout pants. "Hey, Mel! You look nice."

"Thanks," she blushed, feeling self-conscious in the outfit Rose had selected for her. She wore a beige-colored dress that fell to her knees, her arms covered by three-quarter sleeves made of delicate lace that covered the whole dress. Her chocolate curls rested upon her exposed shoulders while a simple gold rose charm hung around her neck, nestled at her collarbone. She was never a fan of heels more than three inches, so she was grateful that she had brought along her favorite short wedged heels that sparkled like gold dust. "I just hope I'm not dressed too formal."

"Don't worry about it…" Tom felt his mouth go dry as he saw Rose shed herself free of her overcoat, a vision in pink in her snug, sparkling sweater dress, complete with leggings and short brown boots. "You…you look a-amazing, Rose," he stammered, earning a giggle out of Riley and a look from Ben.

"Thank you," she beamed, also blushing as he offered her his hand.

"This way," he said, guiding the group into the parlor and gesturing for them to sit. "Monique is making stew, I hope you guys don't mind."

"It sure smells good," Ben noted, inhaling deeply as he detected the scent of beef, potatoes, onions, carrots, garlic, and freshly toasted bread. His mouth began to water at once as he licked his lips. "Really good."

"Is…is everyone here?" Melody asked, anxiously glancing around.

"Oh yeah. Monique and Mom are in the kitchen, and Erik's upstairs dealing with some business," he shrugged.

Taking in her surroundings, Melody noticed a table filled with family photos, one of them containing a picture of a younger Erik and Monique, along with another boy with mismatched eyes and a smile that seemed forced. In yet another picture, there was a gentleman who looked very much like Erik with a woman whose hair was dark as night. The neighboring picture showed the same gentleman, but this time he stood with a younger version of Anna, holding a small bundle in their arms. "Who are those strangers…?"

The sensation of a full bladder soon distracted her, making her grimace. "Um, Tom? I hate to ask already, but…where's the ladies' room?"

Tom chuckled, waving at her to follow him until he arrived at the staircase in the hall. "Ok, you go up the stairs to the second floor, take a left until you find the third door to your right, it's at the end of the hall, ok?"

"Second floor, left turn, end of the hall, third on my right," she recited, earning a chuckle of the boy. "Got it! Thanks." Without waiting for a response, Melody took off and followed his instructions, leaving the young man alone to walk back and entertain his guests.

~OG~

After relieving herself, Melody washed her hands and dried, them, ready to return downstairs when she noticed her reflection. "What if my eyeliner's acting up? It always seems to smudge when I go out…the last thing I need is for him to see me looking like a raccoon…" Pursing her lips, she decided to risk a few extra minutes, returning to the sink to stare at her reflection. "So far, so good," she breathed in relief. Playing with her hair and tossing it from one side to another, she growled in frustration and gave up. "What's wrong with you?! He's just another guy," she scowled, shaking her head. "A guy who won't get out of my brain."

Huffing indignantly, she walked out of the restroom and retraced her steps, tapping each door with her fingertips as she did so. As she placed her hand upon the third door, she jumped back in surprise as it softly gave way under her touch. "Oops," she murmured, pulling her hand back. She planned to walk back towards the stairs, however, her curiosity sparked spontaneously, making her reach for the door once more. Pushing it gently, she could see shelves filed with mountain loads of books lining the walls, a large window set behind a massive desk, a long scarlet curtain pulled off to the side as the last bits of daylight filtered in.

"Nice study room," she commented, ready to walk away when she heard two voices rise into the air.

"Really, Erik, how rude of you to not invite me in. You practically tried to shove me out the door. How was I to know you had company?"

"It's that creeper, Monette!" Melody panicked, running into the study without a moment's thought or hesitation. There was no way she wanted to be caught by that man, much less with Erik present, and especially in her current outfit.

"Oh, I know you keep tabs on us, Monette," Erik's voice hissed harshly, sending chills down her spine as she remembered the Opera Ghost in the catacombs. "You're not welcome here-!"

"Am I ever welcomed anywhere?" Monette sniffed, amused.

As best as she could, she quietly slipped the door into place and scurried to the desk, holding her breath as she waited to see what they would do.

"You're certain I can't join you all in the dining room-?"

"My study. Now."

Melody felt her heart leap into her throat, her mind racing as she fought to remain calm. Spinning around, she caught sight of the large curtain by the window and ran for it, praying to God that she wouldn't be caught. Slipping under the fabric and pressing herself against the wall as best as she could, she held her breath and waited, her blood turning cold as she heard the door open, the two men entering the room at last.