Hey all! Here is the next chapter for your enjoyment. (P.S. I am a terrible person for making you wait so long for this update. Once again School work had to come first. Sorry! And just so you know I have no intention of quitting. I am just a little slow lately so have patience.) But anyway hope you like it.

And a huge thanks to all of those who reviewed for the last chapter. I love hearing from you guys! Some of your suggestions are so funny you totally made me laugh out loud.

And once again Terpsichore did a fantastic job editing this chapter. She is so great everyone! So thanks Terpsichore!

Chapter 60: Shadows of the Past

"I knew it. I knew it had to be her!" Christine said, raising one lily-white hand to point shakily at where Brielle stood peering out from behind Erik's body, her dark eyes glittering starkly from her pale face in the dim light. "Your eyes gave you away. You have eyes like Erik's…burning, wild eyes."

Bending slightly at the waist, Brielle edged to the side for a better look at the girl across the room. The initial spikes of surprised fear had had her heart racing within her chest when Erik had first pushed her behind him, but now, seeing that it was Christine rather than a stranger, or worse Andrew, she purposely tamped down those waves of unease in an attempt to think more clearly. The young vicomtesse was by far the least of all the manner of evils which could have found them out today. It was foolish of her not to pay closer attention to her surroundings before they stepped into the room, but she had just been so caught up in thoughts of Erik and the picture he had so carelessly painted of their children together that she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary until it was too late. But she knew now that in whatever confrontation was to come she would need the full capacity of her mind in working order, so she struggled to keep a level head through the growing anxiety burning within her chest. Good Lord, I cannot believe it is her. DO not panic…do not panic. Just because this is the first time she and Erik have spoken since last year…it doesn't mean anything. Just don't panic…she won't get hysterical if you don't panic.

Repeating these calming mantras over and over, Brielle stood stiff-backed and ready for a fight, imagining one disastrous scenario after another. She could see Christine running screaming from the room at the sight of her long 'dead' teacher and bringing the authorities down upon their heads. But worse yet, she could imagine Erik leaving her side and running off with Christine, such a scene had already been plaguing her nightmares for weeks and now was crystalline clear before her wide open eyes. And yet, just as her panic began to plug up her throat, she raised her eyes to the legendary Christine once again, but instead of seeing the shining and pure picture she had built up within her mind, she couldn't help but notice how small the girl looked in her fine jewels and tailored satin gown, how very young and utterly human. The panic began to subside. For God's sake, the child is shaking clear down to her toes. Is she frightened? What is she afraid of? Erik? Me?

Gathering up her courage, Christine ventured to speak again. "But what makes you think you are right for the position you have found yourself in?"

"Excuse me?" Brielle asked blankly, having been too lost in her thoughts to pay any attention to what Christine was saying.

"What makes you think you deserve to be near him?"

Shocked by the audacity of the question, Brielle could only stare for a moment before the irritation swept in. Narrowing her eyes into a frown, she took a threatening step forward, but Erik shot an arm out, stopping her progress. All attempts at keeping her head clear quickly went right out the window. "Why, you conniving little chit… Do not speak down to me from your high-handed pedestal. You have no right to question anything about me. You gave up any rights you had, remember?"

"I am serious! Answer my question! Are you right for the position you are in? Erik is not like other men. You cannot expect him to be."

"You are wrong. You were always wrong about…"

Waving a hand, Christine cut Brielle off. "No, I am right and you know it too. Have you seen what is under the mask? If you had you wouldn't be able to say what you are. It is too easy to say those things if you have not seen it."

Brielle found it difficult to formulate an intelligent answer. She just could not believe what was coming out of Christine's mouth. She is talking like he isn't even standing here. Does she not know how cruel she is being? Searching the younger girl's face for the malice, which surely must be there, Brielle found nothing but a feverish earnestness tightening the vicomtesse's pert little mouth. How is it possible to be so out of touch with the feelings of others that you cannot foresee when you are saying something hurtful? What sort of dream does she live in?

Out of the corner of her eye, Brielle saw Erik's head lower slightly, his shoulders hunching up defensively as she turned her head to look up at him. It had been a long time since she had seen him draw into himself as he was, and it made her furious. Lowering his arm from where he held Brielle back, Erik raised a hand up to rub at his eyes. "Charming, cruel Christine…" he muttered raggedly under his breath.

Turning an icy glare back across the room, Brielle felt herself practically puffing up with agitation. I cannot let her ruin everything. "Yes, actually, I have seen. Not that something like that matters to a normal person. Just because you were born with a pretty face does not make you better than anyone else."

Christine looked slightly startled at this, obviously having not expected this answer, but she soon recovered. Nodding her head, she wrung her hands in front of her. "Then you know…you understand…" Christine murmured, the starkness of her expression lightening slightly.

"No, I am afraid I do not understand," Brielle snapped back, stopping Christine from saying anything further. "And now I think I should be asking you a few questions."

Stirring from his silence, Erik let out a deep sigh. "Brielle, it is fine. No need to continue," he murmured softly, a weariness crackling in his voice that had not been there before. It was glaringly obvious, that despite the progress he had made in the last few months, that he was taking Christine's words to heart.

"I wanted to tell you something," Christine piped up, waving a hand in order to get everyone's attention.

Purposely ignoring Erik's request to leave it be, Brielle fisted her hands at her sides and barreled on. "Now, now, vicomtesse, it is only fair. And since you seem to be so interested in Erik's business, it should be no problem for you the answer a few questions."

"No, really…you misunderstand."

"What is Erik's favorite color, Christine? What are his favorite foods? What architectural style does he like the best? Do you know his favorite opera?" When Christine remained silent, Brielle raised her chin slightly. "What? Do you not know? Well, allow me to enlighten you. His favorite opera is Faust because it is a story of redemption and forgiveness, two things he has longed for all his life. His favorite architectural style is neo-classical because it is clean and bright without being overdone."

"Madame…"

Raising her voice to be heard over Christine, Brielle continued, sensing more than seeing the shift in Erik's posture as he straightened from his hunch to look over at her. "His favorite foods are anything with sugar in it. I have never seen another man take to desserts like Erik does. And his favorite color is gray. But then…you never bothered to know any of that."

Braving a glance Erik's way, Brielle managed to shoot him the barest ghost of a smile, glad to see that he was no longer staring at the floor near Christine's feet, but, rather, at her now. He was studying her face in that piercing, soul-searching way of his, with eyes so blue that they shone like gas lamps in the dim light, until she was sure he would see into the very depths of her thoughts. Slowly, the darkness lifted from his expression, and the corners of his mouth curled up into a slight smile, straightening his posture until he stood tall with the usual arrogance in the slope of his shoulders.

Catching the look passing between them, Christine clapped her hands together to draw their attention back to her. "No, I didn't know those things, but that is what I have been trying to say!" When Brielle and Erik merely ignored her and continued share in the secrets of each other's gaze, frustration began to bloom across the vicomtesse's face. "Listen…listen to me! By God, listen to me, you shrieking Irish banshee!"

The insult fell loudly in the quiet of the room, like a stone falling down an empty well. Almost instantly, the tenuous smile on Erik's face collapsed in upon itself as the weight of his temper crushed his mouth into a dark frown. Turning from Brielle, he stepped once more in front of her and faced off against Christine. Brielle felt Erik tense in front of her, his body going rock hard under the dark cotton of his coat jacket, until the very seams appeared ready to burst open at any moment. Subtly shifting further to the left, he physically blocked Brielle from Christine's heavy gaze, standing with his feet braced wide apart as if he were preparing for the younger woman to fly across the room in an attack at any moment. Despite herself, the thought that Erik believed he had to protect her from the tiny brunette was strangely funny. Little does he know that I have already laid her out flat upon the floor.

But just as a wan glimmer of amusement was threatening to break through her anger, a new idea sprang up within her mind, quickly snuffing out any amusement she might have felt and making her heart give a little lurch within her chest. Maybe it isn't me he is protecting. He knows I don't need it. Maybe he is afraid I will do something to her. Blast it all! Dropping her eyes to the floor, she caught sight of Erik carefully slipping something shiny back up his coat sleeve, but the movement was so quick, so casual that she started to doubt she had seen anything at all. Frowning, she wondered what he could possibly have hidden in such a place.

"Lower your voice, you wretched girl," Erik murmured, his voice pitched low in warning. "Someone will hear your blathering. And keep a rein on your insidious little tongue lest I lose my temper." Looking up at Erik's back, Brielle couldn't keep the surprise from her expression. The dark command in his tone sent a fine shiver racing down her spine even though his words were directed across the room. Never in her life would she have thought he would speak so harshly to the very woman who had been his muse for so many years. Apparently she had been wrong.

Christine shrank back slightly then, her confrontational stance wilting before the heat of Erik's words. The young vicomtesse blinked several times as she gaped across the space of the room at her former teacher, obviously just as startled by Erik's tone as Brielle was. She opened her mouth to speak but shut it uncertainly once again, looking about the room as if she were a child lost in the woods.

Sensing Erik's agitation growing by the second, Brielle raised a hand to his shoulder, patting him soothingly until he relaxed under her touch. Turning his head slowly he looked back at her, a worry line marring the space between his dark brows as he studied her expression, and suddenly Brielle didn't feel so uncontrollably furious. Forcing a smile, Brielle dropped her hand back to her side, trying, for his sake at least, to calm herself down.

Taking a deep breath, Brielle decided she should take control of the situation before the tension in the air spiraled any further out of control. Stepping out from behind Erik's looming form, she studied Christine for a moment before speaking. "All right…perhaps everyone should just calm down. Madame, I don't know why you felt the need to wait in here, but I suppose I should applaud your tenacity. However, I think you should know that I don't think your original plan for coming here has any bearing now. As you can see now, Erik is very much alive."

Coming back to herself, Christine tore her eyes away from Erik's as if she were waking from a dream. "Oh, yes, I already knew that. That is why I was waiting here."

Whatever Brielle had been about to say flew right out of her mind at that point. Tilting her head to the side in confusion, she could only get one word out. "What?"

"I already knew that he wasn't dead," Christine repeated, biting her pretty bottom lip as she warily watched Brielle's reaction.

"Oh, really?" The Irishwoman said, slowly swiveling around to raise an eyebrow back at Erik. "And how did you know that?"

Looking back and forth between Brielle and Erik, Christine hesitated, obviously sensing that her answer might not be well received. "Um, well…"

Waving his hand elegantly, Erik immediately silenced Christine's words, but this time Brielle was not as struck by his power over the younger girl. From the first moment Brielle had met the vicomtesse she had sensed something inherently fragile within her, something that needed to be led, and so it was surprising her less and less how much the force of Erik's personality could affect the girl. It was surprising her less, but worrying her more even as he turned toward her, his eyes shifting nervously to her face.

"While you were sleeping…I came upstairs once," he stated slowly, each word carefully considered before being spoken.

It was now that a light of understanding seemed to shine glaringly through the strangeness of the moment, poking holes in Brielle's confidence to allow the angry uncertainty to come rolling in. "You came up here because you knew she was here…and that I wouldn't know about it. Sweet Mary, was that why you were so happy earlier?"

"No, not at all…er…rather…not really anyway."

A painful weight dragged at Brielle's insides as she shook her head. "No, that was exactly it. Oh my God…that was exactly it."

Raising his hands in a calming gesture, Erik took several steps forward. Glancing uncomfortably at Christine's watchful gaze, he hesitated before reaching out to take Brielle's trembling hand between his. "Well, yes, that is partially true, but you have my reasoning wrong."

"And what is that?" she snapped back, trying to pull her hand free of his gentle grip.

"I wanted to say good-bye," he said sincerely as a small muscle began working in the side of his jaw. "To put the past to rest at last. I thought I owed that, at least…considering everything."

Blinking in surprise, Brielle struggled to process what he had said, her eyes automatically shifting to where Christine stood nodding her head a little sadly. "Is this true?" Brielle asked of the younger girl.

Clasping her hands before her, Christine nodded a little more vigorously, her large doe-like eyes filling up with tears. "Yes, it is true. He told me to go back to Raoul…that his life had moved on."

"Oh? Then why are you still here?" Brielle retorted a bit unkindly, before she could check herself. "Why did you feel the need to question me like I was a suspect of a crime?"

The question brought a faint new light to Christine's face. "Forgive me, but I thought he might be lying for my benefit. So that I wouldn't feel so badly and so that I would go away and leave him be. He never did like to see me crying." Pausing there, Christine looked down at Brielle and Erik's linked hands, a mixture of deep sorrow warring with the relunctant happiness in her epression. "I wanted to make sure that what he said was true, that what I had done to him might truly be something that could be forgiven, because when I came here I was certain I would never forgive myself."

Taking a deep breath, the vicomtesse gave an elegant little shrug, her chin puckering slightly as she fought off the tears that were still swimming in her eyes. "I could hardly dare to hope when he hinted that he had met new people."

"Hope?" Erik and Brielle both sputtered at once, staring at the young girl as if she were a stranger.

"Yes," Christine said with an uncharacteristically mature certainty. "And I so wanted it to be you…the person he spoke of…I wanted it to be you."

"What!"

"In all our time together I always felt that I was lacking. Erik is so strong…and I…I am not." Looking down at her hands, she ran a finger over the diamond of her engagement ring. "I know I am like a wilting flower most of the time…I know that. And I always imagined that he deserved a lioness. Someone as strong as him…someone like you, Brielle. That is why I wanted to know those things about you. To make sure I was right. I already knew you to be strong…but I wanted to see for myself if you were kind hearted as well. It eases my mind to find that you are…that you care for my…er…for Erik."

Completely flabbergasted by what she was hearing, Brielle could only stare, first at Christine then over at Erik, who apparently was just as shocked as she, for his mouth was hanging open slightly and his eyes were over-wide. Raising a hand absently to her forehead, Brielle tried to massage the cobwebs from her brain but found the task was beyond her at the moment. I must be losing my mind. Did Christine, THE Christine, just approve of me? What is happening? This must be a dream. This is the same girl who tried to steal a music box from a four-year-old.

"But I thought you didn't like me," Brielle blurted suddenly. "I mean…I practically took your head off when I hit you that one time."

"You hit her?" Erik piped up suddenly. "What…when…I mean…"

Blushing a pretty pink now, Christine raised both hands to cover her cheeks. "Oh my, I am so embarrassed by that. I really wasn't acting like myself. But I don't hate you for that, Brielle. I hit you first, after all, so it wouldn't be completely fair for me to resent you forever. Though I have to admit I don't know that we would ever be friends. We are very different. I am sure you would get tired of my weaknesses and I would get sick of your strengths." A sad sort of smile flashed briefly over her face as she shifted uncomfortably. "I know this all seems sort of out of character to you both. I do not normally wait in the dark to confront people and all these things are extremely hard for me to say, but I just knew I had to say them…to make things right."

Looking over at Erik, Christine nodded her head slightly. "I am glad for you, Erik. I am glad you can be happy."

Unsure of how to respond, Erik turned to glance at Brielle. Raising his shoulders up into a shrug he looked just as perplexed as she felt. "All right…"

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room then, leaving everyone searching for something to say. But what does one do in a situation like this? In the end Christine saved Brielle from trying to think of something to fill the quiet. The little brunette clapped her hands nervously in front of her before taking a step toward the door.

"Um…well, I suppose I have said all that I need to. That and I have to make arrangements back to London now that my visit to Paris is over."

"You have decided to leave then?" Erik asked, the worried crinkles around his eyes relaxing away slightly.

"Oh yes. I came here to try and make things right…as best I could anyway. But then I came and I realized that you had already done that for yourself. I simply waited here to make sure. You look happy, Erik. Funny that I hardly remembered what your smile looked like until just now. But I am glad you are happy." Smiling sweetly as if she hadn't just floored everyone in the room, Christine swept to the door. "So that means there is no reason for me to stay any longer. And I am sure poor Raoul is very worried about me." Pausing with her hand on the doorframe, she turned and looked over her shoulder, her dark curls framing her face as she studied the two people standing motionless behind her.

"Good-bye Erik. Please know that I never meant to…to…well you know. I do not think we are likely to ever see each other again…but just know you will always be my Angel of Music." Then, looking at Brielle, her smile dimmed slightly, taking on the more guarded expression she usually wore when dealing with the Irishwoman. "Take care of him, all right? And don't think I will allow someone else to mess things up as badly as I did," she ordered. Then without another word the vicomtesse opened the door and breezed out into the hallway, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.

The sound of the door clicking back into place echoed loudly in the room as both Brielle and Erik stood staring at where Christine had last been seen. Then slowly they turned in unison to look at each other, each wearing an expression of slack-jawed disbelief. "Did that really just happen?" Erik asked with such an air of doubt that Brielle couldn't help but burst out into peals of relieved laughter.

"By the Saints I think it did. Christine, bloody, Daae just gave us her approval and then ran out the door without so much as a 'by your leave.'"

Raising a hand to scrub across his face, Erik let out a muffled bark of a laugh, joining in with Brielle's strained chuckles. Feeling almost lightheaded, Brielle turned and flopped down into a nearby chair, and a moment later Erik moved to join her, sitting across the table from her with his elbows resting upon its edge, a puzzled expression clouding his brow.

"I am glad that is over. It could have been worse, I suppose."

"Yes, I suppose it could have been worse. She could have done something more idiotic than what she did," Brielle agreed sarcastically. Then, not liking the jealous undercurrents she heard in her own voice, she cleared her throat and attempted a more diplomatic tone. "Though I suppose in her own way she was trying to help you. But…are you alright? The poor girl has a strangely endearing sort of cruelty about her."

Frowning slightly, Erik gave a small shrug. "I think this little meeting was more for her benefit than mine. I already made my peace with her and what she did and did not do. I am alright. For a moment I simply was not completely prepared for how easily she slips between the sweet and sour," he said evenly as his eyes came around to settle upon her, the dark storm clouds within him parting ways for a quiet bliss that made Brielle's breath catch in her throat. How was it possible for any mortal man's eyes to be so blue?

"Funny, is it not?" he asked quietly, resting his chin upon one hand.

"What?"

"How easy it is to forgive the storms of the past when the light of the future is so bright ahead."

The smile spread across Brielle's face before she even realized the meaning behind his words. Reaching across the table, she brushed her fingers over the tops of his knuckles. "And to think…it only took you a year in my company to figure that out. I always knew you were a fast learner," she said teasingly, wanting very much to further bring out the smile that she saw just beyond the mirror of his eyes.

Wrinkling his nose at the laughter in her tone, Erik turned his hand over and wove his fingers through hers. "Yes, behold the power of my intellect and be amazed."

Sputtering out a laugh, Brielle stood, and, using their joined hands, she pulled Erik to his feet next to her. "Ach, what an ego, maestro! You should be careful or no one will want to work with you." With a wink Brielle turned to look over her shoulder at the closed door. The longing to see her family and Meg again welled up within her then, making her remember why they had ventured upstairs in the first place. It was time to step out into the world again. "I think it is high time I made my grand return known. So be off with you then."

Nodding reluctantly, Erik brought her hand to his lips and then let her go. "Yes, you are right. Will you be all right going on your own?"

"Yes, thank you. I think I am rather safe with my own personal bodyguard lurking about the wings." Watching Erik flash a protective smile, Brielle followed him to the mirror, but just as he was stepping into the darkness beyond she reached out and grabbed hold of his sleeve. "You will come back later, won't you?"

"Yes, I will always come. All you have to do is ask." Turning from her then, Erik swept off into the corridor beyond the mirror, the shadows wrapping his body like the embrace of a lover until his outline disappeared into the darkness.

Sighing heavily, Brielle slid the mirror shut with a soft click, pressing a hand against the gripping loss she felt pulling at her insides. Will I always feel as if I have lost something when he leaves the room? Shaking off the feeling, she strode across the room and opened the door, making her way out of the hall and into the busier sections of the Opera's backstage area. Activity was practically bursting out of every crevice. A small battalion of seamstresses was busily beading a row of white headdresses as she passed the costume department, obviously putting the last touches on the angel costumes for the upcoming production of Faust. Spotting Marie dictating commands to another on the cleaning staff, Brielle waved to the older woman and got a harried wrinkled smile in response. Hm, I suppose I wasn't missed as much as I thought I would… A high-pitched shriek cut through the buzzing din of the preparations. Jumping with a gasp, Brielle whirled about just in time to see Carlotta's imposing figure bearing down on her.

The dark-eyed singer grabbed hold of Brielle's shoulders, a relieved smile splitting her face. "It is-a you! I waz so worried! I tought you 'ad died! Dat useless violinist told me nothing when I asked."

Caught slightly off guard by the genuine happiness she saw shining in Carlotta's face, Brielle could only flash an uncertain smile. "Eh…yes…and I am happy to be back. I am sorry I was gone for so long without any word. I certainly do not expect to be paid for…"

Waving a bejeweled hand in the air, Carlotta cut her off. "Shshshsh, dis is no time to talk of money. You were ill, yes? I will not 'ear of it. Ah, but go away now…I 'ave to go to practice and I am running late and den I 'ave to get fitted for my costume for de party. Shoo, shoo."

"What party?" Brielle asked as Carlotta ushered her further away from the stage.

"De opening night party. It is supposed to take de place of de masked New Year party. So you see I am very busy. We will talk later, yes?"

"Yes, all right, all right," Brielle agreed as she followed Carlotta's demand and left the older woman behind. Lord, just when I think she is a decent human being…then she always somehow corrects that thought, Brielle thought with a smile. At least I can go and spend some time with Aria now instead of telling her fortunes. I had no idea that it was so close to opening night though. It cannot be more than a week and a half away. What fun it will be to see all of Paris' finest dancing in the main foyer. A ball is just the thing to set everyone in a good mood.

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Splashing through the standing puddles on the ground, Andrew drew his top hat further down over his eyes to keep the misting rain from his face. Looking to the plain, dark haired man walking casually next to him, a grim determination pulled his mouth into a thin white line. "So I can be sure of your cooperation then, Mister Beaumont?" he asked of his companion.

"Yes, my lord. So long as you pay me the agreed-upon amount I will do whatever it is you ask. I would think that goes without saying…considering my reputation," came the cool response in perfect French. Walking with the rolling and careful grace of a killer, the man squinted through the falling rain. "But so we are clear as to the exact purpose of my employment…"

"You are to assist me in the return of my fiancée. On the grand reopening of the Opera you and I will help her see the error of her ways."

"Should I bring some ether then?"

Shooting the pleasantly forgettable man next to him a murderous glare, Andrew struggled to get control of his temper, something that he was finding more and more difficult with each passing day. "Do not take me for a brutish boar, sir. I wouldn't dream of subjecting a lady to such methods. She will come along quietly enough so long as we play our cards right."

Nodding silently Beaumont cleared his throat. "Of course, you must forgive my lapse. I am more used to having an entirely different sort of job, as you know. Actually I have been wondering why exactly you are hiring me. Certainly anyone could snatch a woman and child without too much of a fuss."

"Do not fret. Your skills will no doubt be put to use. You see I do have someone in mind that I would like you to…work on a bit."

A bright smile flashed over Beaumont's face at the news. "Lovely. I had hoped you would say as much. I brought my favorite knives all the way from my last job just in case."

Finding the blatant bloodlust in the Frenchman's eyes distasteful, Andrew looked away from the man. "But I want to make it clear that neither Brielle nor Aria is to be harmed. If they are you get nothing."

"Understood, my lord. No need to worry. I have a spotless record."

Grunting in acknowledgement, Andrew rubbed his chilled hands together. "Good…good. So long as we are clear. And feel free to have a little fun with your 'favorite knives' as you put it. I wouldn't mind seeing this particular man in a little pain before he dies. In fact…"

Trailing off suddenly, Andrew came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the sidewalk, his eyes fixed on the blurry figures bunched together under the eave of an upcoming store, obviously waiting for the rain to let up. The people's faces were slightly obscured by the water dripping off the edge of the overhang but within the crowd a certain pair of dark brown eyes seemed to burn through the distance and the weather and right into Andrew's soul. Sucking in a deep breath, with his heart instantly racing up into his throat, the young lord blinked and those familiar accusatory eyes were gone as if they had never been. For one breathless moment he felt icy tendrils curling over his skin, like the clammy fingers of graveyard fog.

"My lord, are you alright?" Beaumont asked quietly, without any real strains of concern in his voice.

"Did you just see a scarred man up there standing under that store eave?" Andrew asked unsteadily, the white cloud of his breath hanging about his head as he turned to look at the man beside him.

"No, my lord," the Frenchman replied casually. "Is he someone we should worry about?"

"No, he is nothing to worry about. Never mind then," Andrew said, trying to keep the fear from his voice; but in his mind he heard three bone-chilling words repeating over and over within his head. You will die…

Clearing his throat, Andrew stuffed his hands in his pockets and strode forward. "I think we should continue this conversation inside. This weather is entirely too dismal to bear."

"Certainly, my lord. Perhaps you can give me a better description of the man you wish me to…take care of."

Thoughts of those haunting brown eyes fled before the image of a certain masked face. "Yes, yes, I can. The man you are to kill is the one they used to call the Phantom of the Opera. He is a con artist and a murderer. Do you think you can kill a ghost?"

A perfect row of white teeth flashed through the murky air. "Give me a blade and I could kill the Lord almighty himself. A phantom should be no problem at all."