A/N: Hey, gang. It's been awhile...Masquerade next chapter. I'm having a doozy of a time deciding what Maggie's going to be. Enjoy!

Before Jacques left, he inquired once more about my costume gown and what was to become of it. I told him it would have to be a surprise, to me as well since I didn't know what to do with it. If I let Christine and Meg get their eager little hands on it I could end up going to the ball looking like a sacrificial lamb. No, I didn't dare give it to them but I was running out of ideas. I wanted to look breathtaking, enchanting—for the first time in my life, I wanted to dress to impress. I know I shouldn't give a flying fish what Erik thought of me—I never did before—but he was very talented at making one feel inferior. As I've oft said, he was perhaps the most enigmatic being I've ever known. His very aura demanded respect and obedience—things he had not easily gained from me.

I smiled wickedly while thinking of all the times I'd given him a run for his money. Heaven's to Betsy, what was I thinking! Enough thought on Erik, I needed to take care of the task at hand. Whom besides the company seamstress and wardrobe woman could I turn to for help? I needed a fellow woman of the world, someone else to trust…And the thought came to me, then, painting a sly smile across my face. I think it was high time I paid a visit to Edel Saint-Claire.

It felt strange being at the little tavern in the daylight hours. There were a couple of regulars sitting at the bar, getting a head-start on the long evening to come. With the dress box tucked under my arm I walked up to the tavern lady and inquired about Edel. She nodded towards the piano where a middle-aged man sat conversing with Edel. Gone were the sequins and scandalous skirts, replaced by an elegant salmon-colored day dress with black satin trim and lace fichu; a flattering ensemble while remaining respectable—proof to every critical eye that she was every inch a lady, as I've always said.

"I'm not singing more than the usual quantity, Marcel, forget it."

"Come on, Edel. Give the public what they want," the pianist argued. "You're La Vie En Rose's star attraction!"

Edel glanced up to catch me watching and recognition flashed through her eyes. She gave Marcel her charming cat-like smile. "If I'm the star then you do whatever I tell you to do and I'm telling you if you add even one more little ditty after the encore, you're face will be the new star attraction!" Sauntering away from the piano she greeted me warmly. "Sidney Buquet, what a nice surprise. Social call or business?"

"Umm…both you could say. Is there somewhere more private we could talk?"

"Of course. My dressing room's the first door at the top of the stairs. I'll ask Marie to send up a couple of brews and meet you there."

A half hour later, I sat back in the chair, sipping my beverage, awaiting Edel's response to all I'd just told her. Peering over her glass of brandy, she regarded me thoughtfully.

"I must say, you're quite the actress—you had me fooled."

"There's a select few I've entrusted this secret to, although they more or less figured it out on their own."

"Well, I have an open ear and a closed mouth." She winked. "Mum's the word."

"I'm so relieved.

"Now, about this costume—,"

I removed the box's lid and she pulled out the gown, scanning over it. "Hmm…well, you'll certainly be hard to miss."

"I need a miracle, here. Can you revive it? I was thinking of something to do with my homeland." I could almost see the gears turning in her head as she pondered over various designs.

"You're Irish aren't you." She stated before breaking out into a wide grin. "Call me the Miracle Worker of Southeast Paris."

"Thank you, Edel, you've saved my life."

She laughed. "No problem. I believe I can have it done in no time. Come pick it up the day after tomorrow—the day of the Bal Masque. You can get ready here if you like. I'll be attending as well."

"That's a fantastic idea. We'll take everybody by surprise." We said our farewells and I was growing ever more excited for the masquerade.

"You won't even recognize it," Edel referred to the dress as she walked me to the entrance of the tavern. I gave her a brief and grateful hug. "I'm counting on it.

The only thing anyone could talk about all the next day was the masquerade. The Hell's Angels stagehands and I assisted with the decorating. Jacques continued to dog me about the costume and my mysterious escort. Meg was disappointed that she didn't get her clutches on my dress, and I had to rescue Remy from the wrath of Carlotta (who was back for awhile), after which, he received a stern scolding from older brother, Jacques.

During lunch, Remy and I sat up in the catwalks, gnawing on smoked fish and dried fruit while sharing raunchy jokes, which is where Madame Giry found me and delivered Erik's latest threats and curses. I quickly stashed them away in my pocket before Remy could get too curious and snuck off to my room. There were two notes: one addressed to me and surprisingly, one addressed to Remy. Curious and a little concerned, I opened his.

Monsieur Remy,

You strike me as such a clever young man and so I am surprised to have caught you sniffing around the lower cellars on more than one occasion, despite your brother's warning. Heed that warning, boy or you may end up like the Buquets—one brother short.

Most respectfully,

O.G.

My throat went dry as sandpaper as my sole attention remained glued to the last line. How could he say that? How could be so cruel? Obviously, it wasn't meant for me to see but that didn't soften the cold fact that he said it. Carefully placing the note back in its envelope, I hastily opened mine.

Mademoiselle Buquet,

I hope this letter finds you doing well. If you still wish me to escort you to the masquerade, meet me near Le Grand Escalier tomorrow night. I have a feeling it will be an unforgettable evening and look forward to the unveiling of your costume—which I have seen no evidence of. What are you up to, devious witch?

Your Humble Servant,

Erik

Oh, sweet Jesus…I didn't understand. I didn't understand how someone could blow so hot and cold. When it came to Christine, he was melted butter, a dog at her feet. When it came to me he was civil, honest and courteous—sometimes. And when it came to everyone else, he was all thistle and thorns; a vendetta against man and God. How could one man live with juggling so many personalities? I guess hiding them behind a mask made it so much easier.

I felt torn between delivering Remy's note and throwing it away. But he needed to know, understand this wasn't a game. Coming to a decision, I tucked the envelope back in my pocket and went looking for Remy. The consequences he faced with me were far less than the ones he would face should Erik catch him. I passed Jacques on my way to the stage and pulled him into a secluded corner.

"I found this," I handed him the envelope. Jacques noted the addressee before opening it. I waited quietly as he read, watched his brow furrow in puzzlement and then worry. His head snapped up and his eyes grew dark and serious, losing their usual jovial gleam.

"How did you get this?"

"I told you, I found it."

"Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Far from it. You need to talk to your brother or I will."

I could tell Jacques had questions—his whole face twitched with suspicion, but I couldn't satisfy his curiosity. "Do it now," I commanded, and left before he could get a word in edgewise.

I paused just inside the exit to watch Jacques storm onstage, grab Remy by the shirt collar and tug him into the wings, shaking the note in his face. Satisfied that the situation was taken care of, I went in search of more work to do to keep any dark thoughts at bay.