A/N- Sorry about the long wait, guys! I was on vacation and had a major case of writer's block...this chapter was harder to write than I thought! I hope you enjoy it...please feel free to review!

Chapter Seventeen

Erik passed through magnificent parks and neat, empty streets with fine buildings on either side until he came to the house down the lane across from the stone church. The house was smaller than many of the others, but it had charming architecture, and there was a light in one of the windows. Alana was standing there, waiting for him, the whole house dark but the place where she stood. She could see him now; he saw her face brighten up even more all of a sudden, a smile spreading across her face. It was ironic, he thought, that someone like her had been waiting up for him, was glad to see someone like him. A light waiting to meet the darkness.

She left the window, and the world grew colder until she appeared again, opening the front door. "Come inside."

He came inside, into a well-furnished parlor with portraits and photographs of people smiling out from their frames. They seemed to tease him, saying that they knew how much he wished he could have what they had.

"I've been thinking about where we should have this lesson," Alana whispered. "Everyone is asleep now, so we can't have it here in the house. But there's the church…the key's by the door, and my uncle wouldn't mind if we went over there for a little while."

Not the church. Anything but that. "Is there anywhere else we could go?"

She shook her head. "No, unless you want to sit in the tiny stable out back where they keep their horse."

He would choose the stable any day.

"But," Alana continued, "the sound quality would be wonderful inside the church. And they have a grand piano and organ inside as well."

That was tempting. Very tempting indeed. It had been many months since he'd played; his fingers itched to move across the black and white keys and play the music he loved. That was one of the two things he'd missed most since he'd left the Opera House, playing the great organ he'd constructed all on his own. The other was Christine, naturally. Tonight if he could just play some of their songs on the instruments Alana spoke of, maybe he would miss her less.

Miss her less? He didn't want to stop missing her. It proved he loved her, it proved he was alive.

Alana had the key to the church in her hands now, and was opening the front door. "Let's go," she said, turning to look at him, a smile on her face. Even her bright eyes seemed to smile. Erik couldn't meet her gaze and looked at the floor as he found himself walking through the door out into the rainy street.

Alana ran across the road to the church and unlocked the door, hurrying inside to get out of the rain. Erik followed her, but as he came face to face with the open door, paralysis seized his every limb. Everything had gone all cold, and images danced in his mind, memories of being mocked, feared, and condemned. He was the Devil's Child, and he had no right to enter a holy place.

"God would strike a little demon like you dead the moment you walked through the doors!"

The memory of the gypsies' words stung like the lash of a whip. Erik closed his eyes, trying to fight off the pain.

"Erik?" Alana's soft voice broke through his agonizing reveries. "Aren't you going to come inside?"

He forced himself to look up at her, but he couldn't find the words to speak. He was gripped with an insane panic, inexplicably frozen by a fear he didn't understand. I am unworthy.

Alana gazed back at him, confused. "What did you say?"

Had he said that out loud? What a pathetic fool he was. Not only did he not deserve to walk through the doors; he didn't even deserve to live. Then he saw her face darken, her eyes grow wide. "Erik, come inside. Hurry," she whispered.

He turned and looked through the rain. There were two mounted soldiers coming down the street, headed straight towards the church. They hadn't seen him yet, but they would in…

"You there! Stop!" The sound of hoof beats, rushing toward him.

Then he felt his arm being seized, and yanked back hard. Before he knew it, he was lying on a cool stone floor, and Alana was slamming the great door shut and locking it. He was inside the church. Panic overcame him, and he braced himself.

But nothing happened. There was no change at all in the room, Alana still stood there before him, looking alarmed and confused, and he was still alive.

"Erik? Are you all right?" she asked, kneeling down beside him. "I'm sorry I jerked your arm like that, but you were…frozen. Is something wrong?"

He blinked and looked around him. It was dark, but he could tell that he was in a beautiful place. He hadn't been struck down, though. The gypsies had been wrong; they'd been wrong about everything. He wasn't the Devil's Child, he was just a man who'd been born into a life of terrible fortune. He was Erik.

There was a loud knocking at the door. "Open this door! Open it now!" a voice shouted.

"All right," Alana was breathing hard, obviously afraid, but she was trying to get a hold of herself. "We haven't done anything wrong. We live across the street, and we just went into my uncle's church for a minute to get something. They won't arrest us for that…I'll just let them in and explain…" She moved closer to the door.

"No." Erik leapt to his feet and took her wrist. "They won't let us off."

"What do you mean? We didn't really do anyth-"

"Trust me."

He heard a rattling noise. The soldiers were trying to pick the lock. Then there was a click, and the door was kicked open.

"Surrender yourself!"

But by the time the soldiers could catch a glimpse of Erik, he was already disappearing into the dark halls of the church, pulling Alana along with him.

The girl's feet dragged on the floor and she stumbled, unable to keep up, so he lifted her in his arms and carried her off with him as he raced through the unfamiliar corridors. They turned a corner and he stopped for a moment. All was quiet but the sound of Alana's racing heart next to his own, so close. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her soft warm fingers pressed against his skin…

Erik made himself clear his head, and listened for the soldiers. Sure enough, they were drawing near, and would be upon them in moments. He looked down at Alana's little, scared face, and put his finger over her lips. "Over here." He threw his voice so his words seemed to come from down the hall. "Hurry. They won't find us here." Then he fell silent again and listened for footsteps heading in the wrong direction. He heard them, as he'd known he would. He set Alana down, and led her in the direction they had come from, moving toward the entrance to the church so they could make their escape.

They turned the corner that would lead them to the entrance hall, and both their hearts stopped. One of the soldiers was standing there, guarding the door; the two hadn't been together as Erik had thought. The soldier saw him, and his eyes grew wide, recognition passing across his face.

"Surrender now," he said. His tone was angry, but his voice shook.

Erik just bolted from the room with Alana racing after him. They heard the soldier shouting to his comrade, and then the sound of one of them beginning another pursuit.

"Is there a back door?" Erik asked as they ran.

"Maybe…I haven't been here in so long, and it's dark…"

One of the soldiers was guarding the main entrance, so they had to find another way to escape. Normally Erik could have slipped effortlessly out of their fingers, but with Alana a quick escape was proving difficult. He threw his voice to distract the soldier every chance he got, and it worked, but their pursuer always seemed to manage to get back on track, and there was always that one soldier blocking the known way out. In the dark, the church was like a maze, and they were stuck in the middle of an intense game of cat and mouse.

Erik threw open a door that led to a tall, winding spiral staircase.

"This…must be…the bell tower." Alana was gasping for breath.

"Come on," Erik took her by the wrist and pulled her along as they ran up the stairs. When they finally reached the top, they were devastated to discover that there was nowhere to hide. This was a mistake. Erik cursed himself for being so stupid. He turned, and heard the sound of the soldier-no, both of the soldiers, running up the stairs after them.

"What are we going to do?" Alana looked terrified.

Erik searched the room for something, any place they could hide, but there was nothing but the church bells and rope. He eyed the large open window at the far side of the bell tower. It was their only way out. He pulled Alana toward it, but she hesitated.

"We can't go out there…"

They had no choice. He looked out the window and saw that the roof was directly below. The rain was pouring down now, water rushing down the roof in torrents. He climbed through the window and turned back, motioning for Alana to follow him. She shook her head, but when she looked behind her, Erik could tell from her expression that the soldiers were almost to the top of the stairs.

"Come on!" he shouted over the rain and the wind. "It'll be all right!"

Alana's face changed from panic to desperate determination, and she too climbed through the window and set her feet down onto the roof. She tried to make her way to where Erik stood, but she slipped on the wet surface. Erik leaned forward and reached out his arms, caught her before she fell, and pulled her to the side of the roof opposite the large open window. He knelt down and opened his cloak so that Alana could huddle under it and be protected from the heavy rain, and she sat close to him, pulling his cloak tightly around her.

"Now what?" she said.

"We wait," Erik replied. "They can't see us from where they are, or on the street. We're safe for the moment."

She nodded and closed her eyes, shivering from the rain and the rush of adrenaline, and they waited. As they knelt there in the pouring rain and gusting wind, covered by the warmth of his black cloak, Erik couldn't stop raging at himself. It was his fault the soldiers had seen them, his fault they were sitting out here in the storm now hiding from them, his fault the soldiers had a reason to pursue them so fiercely. He'd gotten Alana caught up in his mess of a life tonight. She didn't understand why the soldiers were so determined to catch the two of them, and he desperately needed it to stay that way. She couldn't know he was one of Paris' most wanted men.

Finally, Erik decided to take his chances and see if the soldiers had gone. They couldn't stay on the roof all night. "Stay here," he said to Alana, slipping out of his cloak so she could keep it. The rain immediately soaked through his clothes, and he quickly made his way to the other side of the bell tower, and climbed back through the open window.

He entered the room, a puddle forming on the floor as he stopped to survey his surroundings. He was alone, the soldiers gone. Perhaps they had given up. Perhaps not. Erik spied a pile of spare rope on the floor in the corner, and took up a long coil, twisting it into the familiar shape of a Punjab lasso, always his weapon of choice. Clutching the lasso in front of him, he cautiously moved toward the door. He turned the knob, and it swung open with a slow creak, revealing the empty staircase. He inched forward, suspicious, listening. By the time he caught the sound of others breathing, it was too late.

The two soldiers jumped out at him from where they'd hid on either side of the doorway, pointing their rifles directly at him.

"Last chance to surrender, Opera Ghost," one of them snarled. "You should have stayed underground."

"Lucky for us you didn't," the other side, jabbing his rifle barrel into Erik's chest. "With that reward money, my friend here and I will be set for life."

Erik wasn't worried. With his mouth closed this time, he threw his voice again, creating the sound of another man's shout, coming from down below the stairs. "Officers! Down here!"

Both the soldiers turned to look for just a moment, but a moment was all Erik needed. He struck the two men on the back of the head with quick, tremendous blows from his powerful fists, sending them toppling down a few steps, dropping their rifles. Erik seized hold of the guns and flung them over the railing, and they hit the stone floor below and broke. He looked over the soldiers; one was lying on the steps unconscious, blood trickling from a wound on his head. The other was staggering to his feet, muttering curses and fumbling around in his jacket. The soldier pulled out a knife and brandished it. "You'll pay for this." He spat at Erik's feet. "For this and all the other things you've done. It's over. You and that little whore of yours, you'll both hang."

Something inside of Erik snapped. Rage swelled up inside him, and the room grew hot and red all around. "You're mistaken," he said, his tone dripping with venom as his eyes, burning with hatred, met the soldier's equally cruel gaze. "The only one who will hang tonight…" He lunged at the other man, twisted his arm, and knocked the knife out of his grasp, sending it clattering to the floor. Then he was forcing the Punjab lasso around the soldier's neck. "…is you."

He yanked the noose fiercely, tighter and tighter. The man gasped for breath. Erik dragged the struggling soldier over to the staircase's iron railing, and quickly tied one end of the rope around one of the metal bars. Then he flipped the soldier over the top of the railing, and watched as he hung there in space, flailing wildly for a moment, until Erik heard the morbidly satisfying crack of the man's neck, and saw him grow still. The railing bent under the new corpse's weight, and came loose. It fell down, down to the hard stone floor below, along with the dead body and the rope that had killed him.

Erik turned when he heard heavy, ragged breathing.

"Murderer!" the injured soldier gasped. "You may think you've won, but you can't escape. Justice will find you…"

Overpowering fear and anger like ice crept into his heart that was already full of uncontrollable rage. His eyes, seeing red, blazed with a fiery hate against the men who would have locked him up again, beaten him, killed him, and destroyed Alana as well. He'd sworn he would protect her from harm, and sworn that he himself would never be locked up again. This man had dared to stand in the way of his oath.

Erik kicked him over the edge and watched him fall to his death.

He made his way down the staircase and stared at the two corpses. By now his anger had subsided, and as he looked at the pathetic remains of what had been the soldiers, his stomach turned inside of him, and everything went cold. Woodenly, he bent down and began to pull both of the corpses away from that place. He found a back door-Why wasn't I able to find this before?-and dragged the bodies out into the back street, placing them in an alley behind a pile of rubbish and debris. What an indecent end for them, Erik thought to himself. After all, they had only been doing their duty. If they'd caught him and he'd been hanged, he would have been getting what he deserved. What had set him off more than anything though was the moment when the one soldier had called Alana a whore and said that she would hang with him. She didn't deserve to die just for being with him. She didn't understand, didn't know who he really was. And now that these soldiers were out of the way, maybe she never would.

Erik returned to the church, feeling sick with guilt as he entered. He'd just killed two men inside a church. What kind of person did something like that?

A monster.

He fought back the urge to vomit, and went back to the place where he'd killed the soldiers. It was self-defense, he told himself over and over. He'd been defending

himself, and more importantly, Alana. She was innocent. They would have sent her to prison or worse if not for him and what he'd done. He'd just been protecting her. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? Still, as he walked back up the stairs to the bell tower, he felt ill.

He climbed out the open window again and found Alana, practically drowning underneath his black cloak as the rain poured down on her.

"Oh, thank goodness you're back," she breathed when he came up next to her and took her by the hand, leading her carefully back toward and through the window.

"We're safe now," he said, as she took the dripping cloak off and handed it to him. He was soaked to the bone, and she was mostly warm and dry, but that was all right with Erik. Something about it made him feel almost…happy, in spite of what had just happened.

They walked down the stairs, and Alana gasped when she saw the missing railing. "What happened?"

Meanwhile, Erik had been tried to figure out what he would tell Alana when she asked him that very question, and the answer had come easily.

"I came out of the bell tower room and the soldiers were outside, waiting for us. There was…a struggle, and that's how the railing broke."

Alana raised her eyebrows in alarm. "That must have been quite a struggle."

Erik nodded slowly. "It was. But eventually I was able to persuade them to let us off."

"Really? How? They seemed so serious about this."

"Let's just say I used a little…monetary persuasion."

Alana laughed. "Thank goodness for that. Normally I don't believe in bribing people, but we didn't even do anything wrong."

"Right," Erik said, his stomach twisting inside of him. He wiped the raindrops off his forehead. "Now then. Where is the place for us to have our lesson?"

Alana looked surprised. "After all this, you still want to have the lesson? You're all wet, and…"

Erik needed music right now more than ever. It was the only thing that could take his mind off of what had just happened, or rather, what he had just done. He knew the guilt would return, as it had before with the others he had killed, but while he was absorbed in his music he could forget at least for a little while. They would have the lesson. "Of course," Erik interrupted. "The music will seem even better after such an ordeal."

"Very well." Alana smiled, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. "The sanctuary is this way."

Sanctuary. Churches were supposed to be safe places, full of peace and goodness. And yet he'd killed two people here. He couldn't get their faces out of his head, couldn't escape from the sounds that sickened him now, the sounds of their necks breaking. He followed Alana through the church, struggling to maintain his composure.

They reached the sanctuary, and Erik took a look around the room. There were rows and rows of wooden pews leading up to the pulpit, where Alana's uncle preached his sermons. There was the organ and the piano, and in the back of the room was a balcony with more pews for people to sit and listen to the preaching. On every wall there were banners and paintings of what must have been sayings and scenes of the Bible, one of the few famous books that Erik had never read. He turned around and his gaze fell upon a giant red banner at the back of the sanctuary that had several sayings on it embroidered in gold letters. He looked closer, and saw that it seemed to be some sort of list of rules, ten in fact, and one of them seemed to leap off the wall at him.

Thou shalt not kill.

Dread overcame him. He stood and stared at those four words, feeling completely and utterly sickened by himself and what he had done, feeling like all the wrath of the Lord these people served was rising against him. He'd always believed there was a God, but he had no love for a deity that would allow him to be born into such a wretched life, filled with constant misery. Such a being could not possibly care about him, so why should he worship a god like that? Still, he couldn't shake off the horrendous guilt that burned at his insides like fire. He wanted to make it all go away, but he didn't know how.

"Erik? Are you all right?" Alana, who had been lighting the gas lamps and candles scattered across the sanctuary, turned to face him, looking concerned. Again.

Images and memories of the people he'd killed over the years kept running through his mind. He could see their terrified faces, hear the sound of their necks cracking as they met their deaths, part of a death toll that was continuing to rise. His gypsy master. Buquet. Piangi. The two soldiers. Five men at least, possibly more; he wasn't sure how many people had perished in the Opera House fire he'd caused. He choked down the bile rising up in his throat.

"I…I'm fine," he managed to say.

Alana didn't appear convinced. "You look like you don't feel very well at all. Are you absolutely sure you still want to have this lesson?"

Erik nodded.

"Well, in that case," she said, "I know something that just might help you feel better."

She took his hand. He flinched at the shock of her soft warm hand against his cool one, but for some reason, he didn't let go. There was something about Alana, tonight more so than ever…something on the inside, so contagious, so intoxicating…

They stood before the grand piano. "Do you know how to play?" Alana was asking him.

"Yes."

"Why don't you play something?"

Erik just stared at the piano, at Alana, at the room they were in. At that banner with the list of rules that he had broken. He didn't deserve to be in this room, or to put his fingers on the keys of an instrument in such a holy place. He didn't deserve to be in the presence of the girl who stood beside him, still holding his hand, a hand with the blood of many men upon it. He was such a monster, and she was so…

"Well if you won't, I will." Alana let go of his hand, which grew cold again the moment her fingers left his, and she sat down on the bench and began to play a melody on the piano.

Or rather, she tried to play. She was searching for the correct notes, but she couldn't seem to find them. She played slowly, hesitantly, constantly playing the wrong notes. It sounded absolutely dreadful.

"No, no, no," Erik said, unable to take it anymore. "Not like that." This girl was in desperate need of some musical help. He bent down beside her and dared to touch one of the shining white keys of the church piano. Nothing happened-there was no burn or flash of lighting or onslaught of divine wrath. He breathed a slight sigh of relief, and played out the melody Alana had been searching for, the very beginning of Canon in D by Pachelbel, a song he had always liked. "Now it's your turn," he said.

Hesitantly, gently, he rested his hands on hers and began to move them across the keys, helping her to play the correct notes of the piece. They played it through like this twice, and then Erik let go of her hands and stood back. "Now you try it on your own."

Alana played each note perfectly.

"Excellent," he said, feeling the corners of his mouth turn upward…was he actually smiling? "That was perfect."

"Thank you," Alana said. Her cheeks had gone pink, something that always happened when he praised her if she did well in one of her lessons. "Do you think…maybe could you play the rest of the song?"

"Yes." Alana got up off the bench and stood beside the piano as Erik sat down and made himself comfortable. Then, with his hands on the keys and his foot on the pedal below, he began to play.

His mind seemed to leave him as his fingers floated effortlessly across the piano. He closed his eyes and let the canon take him away to a place that was both wonderful and familiar, and yet he felt he had never been there before. There was beautiful music, and there was peace, both in the melody and in the presence beside him. Though Erik couldn't see, he could feel, and he knew that Alana was with him, lost in the music. When he had finally played the last note, he opened his eyes, and found that they were full of tears.

But he wasn't sad. He didn't understand.

"That was incredible," Alana said, wiping a tear from her eye as well and sitting down beside him. "I'd give anything to be able to play like that."

"You did play the part I showed you very well. Have you played before?" Erik asked.

"Yes," Alana replied. "A little…when I was younger. We had a piano at home, but…in time, it grew painfully out of tune, and there was no one to repair it. But I couldn't have borne to play it even if it had been in tune…my…mother played, and it always made me sad to think of how she would never play our piano again, never be able to teach me to play like she did." Erik could see that Alana was holding back tears, tears of sadness this time.

Her pain was something he could understand. He put a hand on her shoulder. He noticed that she flinched at his touch, as he always did with hers, but she immediately relaxed, and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them they seemed a little brighter, and she looked up at him. Her expression was unreadable.

"If you wish," he said, "I can teach you."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Oh, that would be wonderful." She smiled, and Erik felt the upper corner of his own mouth sort of twitch, and turn up. "But what about singing lessons?"

"We can do both," Erik said. "It will take more time, if that is all right with you."

Still grinning up at him, Alana nodded.

"Very well. Shall we begin then?"

After breathing exercises, Erik had her sing scales, and he taught her to play those same scales on the piano. Once they had finished that, he played a bit of a song, and sang her the words. At the time, the fact that he was playing and singing "Music of the Night" did not warrant a second thought in Erik's mind. It seemed the perfect song in the moment. He taught her to sing and play the first verse, and in time she could do both perfectly.

"That's a lovely song," Alana said as they left the sanctuary when their lesson was over. "There's just one thing about it, though."

"And what is that?" Erik said, a little indignant at the possibility of one of his songs receiving criticism.

"It's that one bit about light…I don't think it's very garish, or cold or unfeeling at all. Do you really believe that?"

Erik looked at her. Though it was dark now, her very presence seemed to make the room brighter, and there was nothing garish, cold, or unfeeling about her. "Do you know what?" he said, scarcely believing what he was saying. "I think you may be right."

She smiled that smile again.

"I will write down some music for you to begin practicing tomorrow if you wish," Erik said.

"Tomorrow…tomorrow is Sunday. Or rather, today is Sunday, since it must be long past midnight. My uncle is preaching here in the morning. Would you…" She hesitated a little. "Would you like to come?"

The sick feeling came back to his stomach again. He thought of that banner.

Thou shalt not kill.

He was a murderer, with fresh blood on his hands.

"I think not."

"You think not? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure." Erik was feeling a bit irritated now.

"Why?"

"Does everything I do need to have an explanation?"

Alana's face fell, and she seemed to shrink, to withdraw into herself. "I'm sorry."

"I will see you tomorrow night at the same time, and no sooner."

After checking for soldiers and finding the lane empty, they crossed the street and stood on the steps by the door to the house. "Very well then," Alana said. "But if you should change your mind…"

"Then what?"

She smiled again, a very slight smile. "Then that would make me happy."

Erik just stared at her, helplessly, as a strange feeling washed over him. He'd never felt exactly like this before; he didn't know what to call it or what to think. He…liked it when she was happy. To see her happy made him feel…happy too. But as she said good night and disappeared inside the house, leaving him standing alone on the doorstep, he felt her disappointment in him. And the sting of her disappointment was greater than the pain of any beating the Devil's Child had ever had.

Before he left to return to the Giry's apartment, Erik turned to look at the church across the road once more. It didn't look quite as foreboding as it had earlier, but he knew he was making the right choice by not going there with Alana the next morning. He couldn't bear to be around so many strangers, people who would look down on him because of the mask he wore. And they won't be the only ones looking down on me. The Lord must hate me for what I am, what I have done.

But that night, he had experienced something special. For just a little while, when he had been playing the piano in that holy place, with that…beautiful, yes, she was a beautiful girl, there beside him, he had caught a glimpse of what heaven was like. There in that candlelit sanctuary, he had found sanctuary, in a place of warmth, light, peace, beauty and music. The scene replayed itself over and over in his mind.

That night, a demon had visited heaven.

But he could never stay there. He didn't belong.

That was no place for a freak, a monster, with hands stained by the blood of men.

It was a long walk back, alone in the dark. As he burned in hell, he glanced up at the sky and yearned for heaven with all of his soul.

Thanks for reading! Reviews would be greatly appreciated, especially by those of you who have favorited or put this story on alert but haven't reviewed yet! Everyone's feedback is really important to me, so please tell me what you think! :)