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dark memories

The Phantom Diaries:  Book 2

BY

kailin gow

dark memories:  Book 2 of The Phantom Diaries Series

Published by THE EDGE

THE EDGE is an imprint of Sparklesoup LLC

Copyright © 2010 Kailin Gow

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or  mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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First Edition.

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ISBN: 1597489131

ISBN: 978-1597489133

DEDICATION

THANK YOU EDITORS AND TEAM AT THE EDGE FOR WORKING SO HARD TO MAKE THIS BOOK SERIES COME ALIVE.  ALSO THANK YOU TO DARLA FOR THE BEAUTIFUL COVER WITH A 3D EFFECT. A LOT OF LOVE HAS GONE INTO THIS BOOK AND ITS CHARACTERS.  THANK YOU FOR COMING ALONG WITH ME ON THIS JOURNEY AND MAKING IT A FUN AND HEARTFELT ONE.

Forward

As you know, The Phantom Diaries series is a work of fiction, loosely-based on the classic The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux. Those familiar with Leroux’s classic will see a thread of similarity in characters, types of characters, plot, and storyline. However, The Phantom Diaries is Not The Phantom of the Opera.

As classics are oftentimes modified for the screen or stage, such as William Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet or any of his many plays, The Phantom Diaries is written for the young adult and older teen audience who generally enjoy reading fantasy and paranormal romance. While adults may enjoy reading this series, as well, the romance in The Phantom Diaries will test the boundaries of young adult edgy fiction, but would not cross over to those of adult romances. Edgy issues that are brought up through the characters or situations in this book are also addressed for teens and young adults groups and book clubs with the discussion questions available for download from my publisher’s website, http://www.theedgebooks.com as well.

A separate set of discussion questions are available for ladies get togethers or book clubs, which will address relationship, self-esteem, and more mature issues.

Hopefully, you will suspend reality and delve into the world of Eric, The Phantom, Annette, Chace, and Aaron for a while, where love and romance is capable, even for the unlovable.

Best,

Kailin Gow

PRAISE FOR THE PHANTOM DIARIES

Fabulously fascinating, engrossing and addictive.The Phantom Diaries by Kailin Gow, is an incredibly modernized and paranormal twist on the highly recognized story, The Phantom of the Opera. A first in a new series, readers will be hooked and aching for more, as the final page is read. Geared toward young adult readers, this is a story that will appeal to, not only its target audience, but to adults as well.

Complete with romantic twists, turns and entanglements, The Phantom Diaries takes the reader on an adventure of the paranormal, the search for dreams and righting the wrongs of the past. Kailin Gow's writing style is phenomenal and will leave the reader at the edge of their seat. As I was nearing the end of the story, I was so entranced, that the pages flew and time ceased to exist. Once I read the final words, I was ready to scream, for want of more. Needless to say, I was relieved to see that the second in the series is to be released at the end of this year.

Highly recommend to those looking for an amazing read, complete with the paranormal, romance, suspense and edge-of-your-seat plotting.

April Pohren, Café of Dreams

At first I had my doubts about this book, more because I didn't know if I would enjoy the topic seeing as how I usually focus more on fantasy books with vampires and werewolves and faeries etc. But once I began reading I was instantly intrigued.

It enveloped me instantly with mystery and questions.

Drama is at every turn and as the mysteries continue to unfold through the pages this books leaves you wanting more. When the ending comes and your hoping for things to turn out one way, your left with the craziest cliffhanger!

This book had me all the way through and I cannot wait for the next book for me to know what fate has in store for Annette.

Melissa Silva, The Bookshelf

This was such an amazing book!!! My heart can't stop beating after turning the last page.

I have completely no idea what is going on in Annette's head sometimes. She's so unsure of herself and that's what I didn't like about her. She can't seem to make her mind up between 3 guys. I mean, can she not see that Eric is so much more better for her than Chace and especially Aaron, absolutely hate him. Seriously, Annette, how could you fall for him!?! Eric really does understand Annette better and really brings out her dormant qualities. Whenever she's with Eric, I couldn't stop swooning during the scenes with them together. Honestly, the heat was literally coming off the pages as I was reading.

That cliffhanger at the end was just so heartless and very unresolved, argh. Like, the ending was up to me to figure out on my own. Thank goodness, there's a 2nd book but I'm gonna have to wait until October to read it, GOSH!!!

Mabel, College Student

I don't know much about Phantom of the Opera the book, but I have seen the movie with Emmy Rossum and Gerard Butler. Because of the movie, I had to read the book. I did and I love it! Now about The Phantom Diaries, I'm usually a YA reader, so The Phantom Diaries fit that. Phantom of the Opera fans would LOVE this book because of the reference from the Phantom of the Opera book BUT you do not need to know the Phantom of the Opera story to enjoy this new story. The author does an amazing job honing this classic story into one for young adults and paranormal romance fans. I can't describe it exactly, but this is an amazing ride to an unexpected OMG ending. I'm not giving it away, you have to pick up this book!

K. Taylor – Goodreads

The Phantom Diaries is an incredible story of love, revenge, and passion that can consume one's soul. Amazingly narrated by young Annette Binoche, the book's writing emerges you completely. I cannot stop reading until I was finished and yet I wanted more. More of Eric, more of Chace, and more of Aaron! The ending was incredible! WOW. Gow's next Phantom Diaries book cannot come soon enough. Phantom Diaries is my second young adult book from Gow, and she continues to weave some of young adult fiction's most imaginative and passionate reads. She is my new favorite author must reads!

Shannon, Teen Books Reviewer

I read the kindle version of this after I downloaded and read Kailin's other books Pulse and Bitter Frost. Oh. My. God. This isn't written like your typical romance novel, but romance and passion is gushing out on every page. I haven't read Phantom of the Opera. You don't need to at all. Actually, it can stand alone and be its own story. I highly recommend it!

Amber – Goodreads

I grew up loving The Phantom of the Opera and have dragged my family and friends to see it on Broadway more times than I'll admit out loud, so getting the chance to read Kailin Gow's new twist on my old favorite was very exciting for me. I wasn't sure what to expect but once I opened to the first page and dug in I couldn't put it down. It had all the old romance, mystery, tension and wonder that I was hoping for and have come to expect when dealing with this classic. Gow's writing was quick, relatable and not bogged down with unnecessary details or insignificant points of reference.

Her characters were original in their owns ways but still stayed true with their classic predecessors. The phantom by far and away was of course my favorite character, but I must admit that the sweet and innocent Chase also gave him a run for his money. I couldn't blame Annette for not being able to decide between them half the time when I couldn't figure out how I could love one the one minute and the other the next. I was flitting back and forth all the time. Annette was a wonderful character to follow and her diary entries were fascinating to read.

Katelyn – Bookshelf Sophisticate

Once again I thoroughly enjoyed Kailin's work! The Phantom Diaries is considered YA but I recommend it for older teens because there are a few suggestive areas. I didn't have an issue with it but I'm an adult YA reader. (I know there are a lot of us!)

I love the way the author writes about her characters. She gives you enough to get a feel for them but not to much where you get tired of hearing about them. She always creates real and flawed characters. The only problem I had was that I thought the main character's speech was a little to "refined" for her hometown LOL! (and I can say this because I'm from around the area) Other than that I totally enjoyed ALL the characters.

The storyline is great; being based on hauntings of the Phantom of The Opera in a teenage/contemporary world made for good reading. Overall, I really enjoyed it and can't wait for book 2!

Kris – Cajun Book Lady Blog

Wicked Woods

Briony had to move to Wicked Woods, Massachusetts to live with her Great Aunt Sophie after her family disappears on vacation. The woods at the edge of Aunt Sophie’s inn are filled with secrets and inhabitants both seductive and deadly. Among them is a beautiful boy name Fallon who saves her one night in the woods. As Briony gets closer to Fallon, she learns he has a secret, as do most of the residents of Wicked Woods…

The Stoker Sisters

Two sisters... Born during the time of Jane Austen... Set to marry for advancement, but escaped their fates by becoming vampires. Now vampires in the 21st century, hunted by a sect of rogue hunters, the sisters meet a mysterious boy who holds the key to their destinies.

BITTER FROST

All her life, Breena had always dreamed about fairies as though she lived amongst them… beautiful fairies living amongst mortals and living in Feyland. In her dreams, he was always there – the breathtakingly handsome but dangerous Winter Prince, Kian, who is her intended. Then she sees Kian, who seems intent on finding her and carrying her off to Feyland. If she is his intended, why does he seem to hate her and want her dead? And her best friend Logan has suddenly become protective. Things are getting strange…

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GASTON LEROUX’S

PHANTOM OF THE OPERA

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dark memories

The Phantom Diaries:  Book 2

kailin gow

Prologue

Eric’s Journal

Décembre 23 2009

Mon Journal,

It is difficult to comprehend how my years on earth have brought me to this point.  Kristine, the woman who drove me mad, almost to the verge of pure insanity, over a century ago and thousands of miles away in Paris has returned to taunt me.  Between her irresistible beauty, her practiced charm and burning passion, she’d drawn me into her web of greed and deceit.  So weak was I when in her presence that I’d even considered killing a man, Rupert Aragon, for her.

How I ever managed to find a thread of sanity that kept me from going through with the deed, I’ll never know, but will forever be thankful.  However, Kristine’s anger at my refusal to obey her commands nonetheless pushed her to ruin me when she’d tried to have me framed for the attempted murder of Rupert.

I thought I had found solace and peace here in New York.  Far from Paris, my life was lonely, but free from the scandals of my past.

Why was she here now?  Why had she returned to torment me?  And in the worse possible way; in the body of my sweet and cherished Annette Binoche.

My love for Annette has grown beyond measure and I fear it is that love that has allowed Kristine to take hold of Annette’s being.

The days I spent, so long ago, haunting the Paris Opera House as its famed Phantom had finally been put behind me. The hideous scars I’ve carried for over a century have finally faded, yet Kristine seems determined to undermine the life I’ve finally made for myself.

Forgive me, my sweet Annette, for having allowed this to happen to you.  I should have questioned your sudden appearance at the Met, your uncanny resemblance to Kristine and the odd happenings that so shook up this New York opera house as I had once shook up the opera house of Paris.

My naiveté and desire to love again blinded me to the possible treachery Kristine was capable of.  Never would I have guessed that her dabbling in magical potions would allow her the powers she now possesses.

Though I must not succumb to her powers of passion, I know Kristine will do everything she can to seduce me.  Surely she realized last night how close she came to succeeding.  My lips had tasted hers, my body had pressed against the length of hers with a need so strong I could barely contain it.  The temptation was great and it took every ounce of will not to surrender to the enticing combination of Kristine’s wanton desire and Annette’s innocent charm.

I will not allow her to win, my love, of that I can assure you.  I will keep her here in my home, under my guard and under my constant surveillance until I can find a way to break whatever spell she has conjured.  To my dying day I will fight to rid Kristine of the hold she has on you.

Chapter 1

I awoke disoriented and confused. My back and legs ached from the odd position my body had adopted on the easy chair I’d chosen to sleep on.  My eyes opened to the sight of Annette and for a brief moment I forgot that it was actually Kristine who now controlled her.  The thought of Annette trapped in her own body tore me apart and I’d not the slightest idea how to save her. My heart sank with the realization.  Outplaying someone as devious and evil as Kristine was going to be a challenge; one I could only hope I had the strength, power and cunning to overcome.

Kristine harbored such anger and hate for me, she carried it to her grave, dooming herself to an afterlife of exacting revenge. I must diffuse this anger. I must make peace with her for Annette’s sake. I bit my lip. As much as I wanted to destroy her, wring her neck for the pain she was causing Annette, I must withhold my anger. I must be kind to her. She would never expect it. I must kill her with it. She would expect me to lash out at her in anger and hate, let Annette see the ugly monstrous side of what a man who was pushed to the brink of emotional despair is capable of, rather than the good in him. Kristine relished in bringing out the worse in men, while Annette brought out the best.

I knew Annette, and she was not at all like Kristine. Kristine would tempt me. She would try to anger me. I must not succumb to her emotional games. I would be cordial and kind, the perfect gentleman. Kill her with kindness. That was my strategy.

For now she looked as sweet and innocent as any angel.  Her eyes closed in slumber and her lips just barely parted with a hint of a smile that spoke of the dream she seemed caught in.  Her hand was clasped tightly about the woolen blanket that warmed her and for a moment it was clearly Annette I saw sleeping so soundly and not Kristine. Perhaps in sleep Kristine’s hold was not as strong. I could only hope.

With my thoughts on the feast I would prepare for breakfast, I rose and made my way to the kitchen. This would be the romantic breakfast I’d thought of preparing the morning Annette had spent the night in my arms so many nights ago.  How sweet, virginal and yet passionate she’d been.  Her beauty gripped me at my core, but it was her charm and gentle nature that truly captured my heart.  Romantic gestures would have been premature at that time – too much too soon – and I had set the notion far in the recesses of my mind.

Despite its chaste nature, that night held a cherished place in my memory, in my heart.  Her innocence and her passion; her pride and humility; her fear and her strength; she’d mesmerized me and I had fought to keep from ravaging her. My love for her could only bring her pain; my jealous rage could destroy her.

While carrying her back to her apartment early that morning had been difficult, I knew it was the only choice I had.  Her budding love for me had already become evident in her eyes, in her touch and in her increased desire to be with me, but logic had won over temptation.   Though deep in my heart I’d wanted to hold her, to warm her and to care for her, I knew better. My solace had come in knowing that she was clearly an independent and capable young woman.

New York was hers to discover, to charm and to own. Her strength would carry her through the most challenging of obstacles.

Or so I’d thought.

It saddened me to think that despite her incredible strength she’d fallen prey to Kristine.  In hindsight, perhaps I should have kept her at my side.

No sense dwelling on that now.  A solution was what I needed, not regret.

I whipped up an omelet, roasted up small cubes of potatoes and prepared a fresh fruit salad. My plans had to look to the future and the future was in greeting Kristine or Annette, whoever awoke first.

When the aroma of fresh brewed coffee wafted through the air and announced the new day, Annette wandered into the dining area. Disheveled and more alluring than ever, she sat at the table and eyed me with interest.  She’d borrowed a thick and warm robe and though barely an inch of skin was visible, she was still the most erotic creature I’d ever seen.

“Good morning,” I said. I poured her a cup of coffee.

“Bonjour, Mon amour.”

I hid my disappointment as I set the cup before her. So it would be Kristine after all.  Remembering her penchant for what was sweet, I dropped two spoonfuls of sugar in her cup and a soupcon of cream.

“Merci.  I’m flattered to see you recall how I enjoy my coffee.”

“As I recall, you also enjoy a rather hearty breakfast.”

As I returned to the stove to dish out the small feast, I marveled at the difference between Kristine and Annette. How could one woman be so filled with hate and deceit while the other displayed such love and compassion?  Knowing of the love I now felt for Annette, the sweet yet proud young woman who carried herself with all the nobility and strength of a woman years older, it was difficult to comprehend how I could have once given my heart to a woman as vile as Kristine could be.

Immaturity, I concluded. My insecurities and my need to love and be loved had blinded me to the true colors Kristine hid so well behind a veil of passion and sensuality. Her touch had always held the power to entice me, beguile me.

For all of Annette’s chaste ways and pure honesty, I’d tasted a hint of the passion she was also capable of. I fervently hoped to taste it again.

“Hope you're hungry,” I said.

She looked at her plate with pleasure, but the smile she directed at me clearly displayed where her true hunger lied. “Annette appears to be famished for the feast you’ve prepared. I, on the other hand, would be all too happy to feast on something else entirely.”

“I’ve no doubt.” Though I tried to sound virile and passionate, I heard a tinge of disdain in my words. Kristine…still a seductress…

Nonetheless, she turned her attention to her meal. “Mmm. C’est délicieux. I see you’ve learned a few things over the years. As I remember your cooking was disastrous when last I saw you. But your loving attention to detail has not changed. This fruit salad is perfection.”

I smiled and ignored her reference to our past. With no desire to reminisce, I sat across from her and concentrated on my breakfast. It killed me to know that Kristine was controlling Annette’s every move. And yet there was no way to battle what Kristine was doing other than to play along with her. Kill her with kindness.

“I left this earth far too young, Eric, and the chance to lead my life as I should have was taken away from me.”

I nodded.

“Maybe that’s why you were raised so chaste and demure, dear Annette,” she went on.

My heart jumped to my throat at the thought of Kristine communicating with Annette.

“They didn’t want you to come to the same dishonorable end your Tante Kristine did.”

Her eyes became shadowed with sadness.  Whether it was Kristine showing a degree of remorse or Annette filtering through, I couldn’t be sure. Her gaze remained distant and solemn for a long moment and I wanted to reach out to console her… both of them.

“Wealth was all my family ever coveted, all they strived for, though admittedly not always in the most honorable way,” she whispered. She brought her eyes to mine, the eyes that were distinctly Kristine’s. “But then, how many among us become wealthy in a way that could completely be considered honorable? The Aragons were hardly rich due to hard labor and a strong work ethic. Rupert had spent all his days in the most leisurely fashion. His body knew not the ache of eking out a living through toil.  In an entire year he didn’t work as much as my mother had in one day.”

With a mind of its own, my hand reached out to take hers.

“All I ever wanted was to prove to my mother that I was capable of making something of myself; of pulling myself out of the misery that was our gypsy way of life. I’d wanted food in my belly when I’d lain down to sleep. I’d yearned for a home that wasn’t rat infested and filthy. I’d wanted the world to gaze upon me with anything other than pity and contempt.”

“I’m so sorry for all that has been brought upon you. No one should ever have to live such pain,” I said. My sorrow ran deep for both Kristine and Annette.  Kristine for having been so blinded with her need to better her life and Annette for now suffering the ire of Kristine’s failed attempts at riches. “For too many years I lived with the pain of physical scars so deeply etched on my face that they affected my mind to the point of blinding me to all else. My happiness was hindered by those ghastly scars… the happiness I could have had with the woman I love.” I brought her fingers to my lips and tenderly kissed her warm skin.

Our quiet moment of contemplation was quickly brought to an end with a sardonic chuckle. I glanced up into her eyes and knew the cynical and vengeful Kristine had returned.  The warm fingers that had enchanted me just seconds earlier now felt vile and putrid in my hand. I released my hold of her and hid my displeasure.

Her lips curved maniacally with whatever plot she had in mind. One could almost see the triumph glistening in her eyes as she foresaw the success of that mysterious plot.

I’d tossed in my sleep as a good portion of the night had been spent trying to find the motivation for her appearance in New York.  How long had she been here, following me, watching me? Did she simply want to seduce me?  Was revenge on the Aragons still on her mind? Or did she have a whole new purpose for possessing Annette’s body?

My eyes never left hers as I tried to understand. Was Annette far in there? Could she see me? Hear me? Was she fighting? Or was she already dying?

Picking out a piece of pineapple from the fruit salad with her fingers, Kristine gazed wantonly at me as she licked the sweet juices from her fingertips. “This is pure heaven, Mon amour,” she said with a smile that declared how far from heaven her soul deserved to be.

“Have you taken in New York at all?” I asked, eager to speak and think of anything other than her ruse.

The hand that held her fork aloft was relaxed and completely at ease. Kristine seemed completely at home here, as though we’d never been apart. She scanned my home, scrutinizing and appraising. Her brow rose expressing her surprise or appreciation for the Van Gogh that graced the wall behind me. A Ming vase rested on a marble pedestal in the corner and her appraising eye lingered.

“New York is a bore and a poor attempt to rise to all the pomp, theatrics and glory that Paris has always been. What possible good could come of walking the bleak and gray streets of this cold city?”

“I felt very much as you do when I first arrived. I spent years simply wandering the underground tunnels and never daring to see the light of day. New York had little more to offer me than a convenient escape from Paris.”

“Yet you’ve remained here for over a century. I take it something came to interest you along the way.”

“Let me show you. Finish your breakfast and I’ll take you to a few of my favorite places.”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips took on a seductive turn. “I remember the place that was once your favorite.”  She reached out to take my hand. “As I recall, it was also my favorite. Do you remember, Eric? Have you missed those nights you spent in my arms, in my legs, in my soul?”

Fighting the sneer that worked its way to my lips, I resisted the comment that instantly came to mine regarding her soul. Play nice, I reminded myself.

“I do, and I have; many, many times.  You are a woman difficult to forget. In fact, you inspired a great number of songs I’ve written over the years.” I gave her hand a tender squeeze and hoped Annette understood what I was trying to do.

“Ah,” Kristine groaned with a satisfied smile. “I must admit it pleases me to hear that, Eric. Very much.”

“I knew it would.” The nature of the songs she’d inspired would remain my secret. Far from being ballads of love, she’d brought out in me a rage of hard and heartless songs of betrayal and a complete disregard for the heart.  “And the New York that I will share with you will please you as well. Trust me.”

Chapter 2

Kristine followed me to my room where I’ve had half my closet filled with Annette’s clothes. Though eager to leave for his much deserved time off, Abner, my butler, brought as many of Annette’s things over late last night, and I was pleased to see he had done a remarkable job arranging Annette’s clothes, accessories and shoes.

As I lay a pair of jeans, a warm sweater and woolen coat on the bed, Kristine watched me with interest and curiosity. From a drawer at the back of the closet, I pulled out a pair of leather gloves and a long, fanciful crocheted scarf. She cocked her brow as I set them on the coat and I replied in like.

“Not quite the elegant couture of Paris,” she said.

“We’re no longer in Paris, nor in the nineteenth century. Besides, we should see some snow today and I’m sure you’ll appreciate the warmth,” I explained. “Looks like we’ll have a white Christmas after all.”

She shrugged and proceeded to remove her robe. Before she could expose too much of Annette’s body to me, I left the room and closed the door.

Moments later she emerged and I could not deny my animal attraction to her. How exquisitely ravaging she was. The gleam in her eye reflected her knowledge of this fact.

“This pleases you, Mon amour?” she purred. She patted the tight jeans that hugged her curves so perfectly. “I must say, I think I rather enjoy the fashions of the day after all. There is a certain allure to such a garment, is there not?”

“Indeed.”

She turned to show me her backside while she twisted around to admire it herself.  “Hmmm, yes. Very alluring.”

“Now come and show New York how alluring you really are,” I said, holding my hand out to her.

Her hungry gaze inspected the length of me.  “I see you’ve also found an interesting way with fashion as well.”

My jeans were hardly interesting, nor was my black sweater. The long black leather coat I pulled over it all, however, was what seemed to awaken her senses. She ran her hand over my shoulder and leaned up as to kiss me.

“Come now,” I said as I backed away.  “New York is fabulous in the early mornings.”

I led her to my garage and heard her gasp at the sight of the collection of automobiles I kept housed there.

“My, my, Eric. You really have done well for yourself.”

Her eyes lingered on the Jaguar, then stared at the 1963 Red Corvette. She gave my motorcycle a questioning tilt of her head.

While Kristine seemed to find the vehicle to be an oddity, I wondered if Annette remembered the night I’d driven her through the darkened tunnels on that bike. I could still smell the sweet fragrance of her hair as she sat before me, her gaze intent on every turn we made. The warmth of her body had pressed me to drive at a reckless speed, so desperate was my need to bring her to my home and be alone with her.

“I have to admit, I’m more than a little surprised. I didn’t think you had it in you to accumulate such wealth.” Her gaze found the sporty silver Mercedes.

I shook the thoughts of that night with Annette aside and concentrated on Kristine.  “I’ve had many years to do so. I’ve also worked hard and made many sacrifices. What you see here is the result of many long nights pouring over the harmonious melody, the most touching lyric and perfect tempo to every song I’ve ever written.”

“I knew you had the talent, Eric, but I had never imagined this. Your love of the opera has finally paid off.”

“Yes, but so has my willingness to delve into other types of music. Opera alone would never have afforded me all this.”

“You sold out?”

“Popular music can be immensely profitable,” I said, refusing to feel guilty for my journey into the world of pop culture. “It began merely as a way to make ends meet. Turned out I had a flair for writing songs people wanted to hear again and again. Some of today’s brightest singing sensations owe their success to the songs I wrote for them.”

I opened the passenger door for her.

“Always the gentleman.” She brushed against me as she approached the car and got in.

The drive to the EmpireStateBuilding was quick and quiet. Kristine stared at the series of tall buildings, but set her lips in a line determined not to be impressed. As I parked the car, Kristine remained thoroughly unmoved by it all.

Clouds had already begun to obscure the morning sun and the scent of impending precipitation foretold of the snow to come.

Chilled and clasping her coat tightly to her chin with her gloved hands, Kristine emerged from the car and hurried to my side. “This had better be worth it. On the sunniest of days this city is bleak. With the cold, gray skies, it’s downright intolerable.”

“Let’s hurry to the top before the clouds completely engulf the magnificent view.”

“Top?” She glanced up.

Amused by her surprise, I smiled and nodded. “Paris isn’t the only city to offer a bird’s eye view.”

Her skepticism didn’t diminish on the elevator ride up, but once those doors opened, she was unable to contain her delight. With eyes as wide as a child’s and her lips parted in awe, she ran onto the observation deck and quickly looked around. She seemed unable to take it all in quickly enough as her eyes darted from one building to another.

Pleased to finally see her appreciation of the city I’d come to love, I stepped up behind her. “Over there is Chinatown where I’ve often strolled the streets and taken in the various aspects of a culture I’d never known.” I pointed out various spots that had marked my life here.  “And over there is Greenwich Village where I spent a few years collaborating with some rather free-spirited people on a few psychedelic and groovy songs.”

I guided her around the deck. “There’s our gift to the new world,” I said, proudly pointing to the Statue of Liberty.

“Ah, yes,” she said with a smile. “I do recall hearing about the regal statue France bestowed to this new world.”

“The Brooklyn Bridge, the Garment District, Soho, Times Square.”

“You seem to know the city well.”

“I do. Although much of my time here has been difficult and lonely, I have come to feel in tune with this city. Granted, it will never be Paris, there is still a vibrancy and exuberance that is forever exciting.”

“Do you miss Paris?”

“Every day.New York is fabulous and undeniably one of the world’s grandest cities.  But it’s not Paris.  It was difficult keeping that sentiment out of my songs.”  I’d naively compared the two cities in one of my earlier works. “Americans are very fond of this great city. Listening to a song that gave favor to another didn’t appeal to them much.”

Sadness played on her eyes a moment before she directed her gaze at the ground between us.  “I imagine after everything I did to you, you didn’t miss me much.”

“Actually, I did.”

She seemed genuinely surprised and a childlike grin tugged at her lips as she brought her gaze to me. “You did?”

“Yes.” Though the confession was initially meant to appease her, I remembered my early tormented years here. Although she had ruined me, ruined my life to such an extent that I had to run clear across the Atlantic, I had missed her dearly.”

“How horrible it must have been to be so far away from home and completely alone.”

“Yes, but I ultimately became involved with an opera at the Met and my life turned around. For all the money my foray into pop music had brought me, nothing made me feel as alive as I did when I wrote or heard opera.  However, it is when you arrived in New York that I finally found real purpose in my life.” The words were uttered before I realized I had spoken them to Annette.

She gazed at me, her eyes filled with sorrow and joy. For a moment I felt certain it was Annette looking at me.

“I remember this place.” Her voice was small and strangled.

But in an instant Kristine regained control. “Silly thing, thinking she can overpower me.” She brought her hand to the cheek that had once bore so many unsightly scars. “She is immensely touched by your story, as am I. My poor Eric. You are magnificent in your pain. Your pain becomes you; it drives you, moves you and allows you to render such splendid music to a world that hardly deserves your genius. Where would you be without such pain?”

I scanned the horizon that was quickly being swallowed up by the increasingly dense clouds. The gloom of the skies mirrored the darkening in my soul. The acute pain of the past returned. The wounds I had thought healed, reopened and festered. Heartache and betrayal. Treachery and deceit. It was all this beguiling wench was capable of…this Kristine.

Chapter 3

“This is all very good and well, Eric, but I’ve grown weary of walking the hard concrete of your city in these boots. And the snow is only making it worse. I think I’ve seen enough of New York.”

We walked up Broadway, perused the shops of 5th Avenue and took in a scrumptious late lunch. I had one more delight to share with her. I led her to Central Park and hired a carriage.

She beamed and again I felt it was Annette who was smiling at me. “I came here once.”

Yes, it was indeed Annette.

“Shh,” Kristine hissed in irritation an instant before turning to me with a brilliantly seductive smile she’d so practiced. “Oh, Eric. How wonderfully romantic.”

“The first snow in Central Park is absolutely magical.”

Nestled comfortably in the crook of my arm, she sighed. The clip clop of hooves and huge snowflakes made for an enchanted afternoon. I held her close and was relieved to sense the tensions in her shoulders dissipate.

Annette’s brief smile and quickly silenced comment at the sight of the horse-drawn carriage let me believe there was a possibility of overcoming Kristine’s hold on her by way of the happy memories she had here in New York.

Better yet, New Orleans. Her childhood home, her parents, her city.

Kristine had had years to hone her powers.  She’d had years to plot out this devious plan of hers. She’d had years to ferment the hatred she had for the Aragons into a demented and demonic obsession.

I only had one day to try to find a way of circumventing her extraordinary powers.  I was cautiously optimistic regarding the effects of a trip to New Orleans.

I hid my elation. Of course a visit to Annette’s home town was in order, and Christmas gave me the convenient and perfect reasoning to talk Kristine into it.

“This is more than magical, Eric.” Kristine pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. “I’m deliriously happy. Your New York is indeed something to behold.”

“Happy and cold?” I said with a chuckle.

“The chill is penetrating,” she admitted.

“Perhaps a week in the warm bayou would be better,” I suggested.

“What bayou?”

“New Orleans.”

“New Orleans?  What could I possibly want to do there?”

She tensed and I feared she’d see through me.

“It’s Christmas, Kristine.  Annette’s family is expecting her for the holidays.  You have a final show tonight and you're off for the week.”

“Speaking of… I should be at the opera house in no more than an hour. I don’t want to be late.”

“I’m happy to see how conscientious you are.”

“Darling, I’ve been waiting a hundred years to return to the stage. Nothing will keep me from making my spectacular debut at the Met.”

Now was not the time to worry about the quality of performance I feared she’d provide. “And the holidays?” I ventured.

“Annette is an adult living in a big and exciting city. They’ll understand that she has more interesting things to do than sit with Maman and Papa. I’ll give them a call, wish them a Joyeux Noel and say she… I… can’t make it.”  Her hand suddenly fluttered awkwardly a moment then fell still.

“As you wish,” I bluffed. “But be prepared to face her parents when they come here to see you.”

“They have no business here,” she argued.

“Their daughter is here, Kristine. Do you really think they’re going to buy a story about her not being able to return home for the Christmas holidays? If you really want to fill Annette’s shoes and not have everyone suspecting something is wrong with her, you’d better fill her shoes right. Or be prepared to answer to a lot of questions.”

She huffed and stared straight ahead.  Though her chin held a defiant tilt, I knew I had won. She didn’t want to risk being found out.

That night, after a performance that left her cast members gazing curiously at her and a full house somewhat underwhelmed, I guided her back to my home.

“I’m ecstatic. I’m absolutely euphoric.  That was just the most splendid thing in the world, Eric.” She fluttered across the floor, still high on the applause of the crowd.

“I’m going to go prepare us each a bag.”

“What for?”

“I told you, Kristine. We’re going to New Orleans.”

“Oh, you're being such a bore, Eric.”  She came up to me, her nose barely an inch from mine, and draped a lazy and confident arm around my neck.  “You have the hottest, most sultry opera diva in all of New York here at your disposal and all you want to do is run off to meet the parents.”

“It’s for your own good, Kristine.” I backed away and headed to my bedroom to pack our bags.

Slow, languid and meant to please, she tiptoed around me and sprawled out on the bed.  Beaming, her smile still held the triumph of her first night on stage. Completely unaware of the remarks and comments her performance had incurred, she floated on a cloud of pure exaltation.

“You're overreacting, Mon amour.” She brought her index finger to her lips and bit into it as one would a rose stem.

Satisfied with the contents of her bag, I yanked on the zipper and set it on the floor.  “Look, Kristine, I didn’t want to have to do this, but…”

Her gaze was suddenly alert.

“Your performance was wonderful…”

“How sweet of you to say, Eric.”

“For a first night’s performance.”

“What are you saying?” Her brow furrowed and her lips lost their sultry pout.

“Annette has brought her portrayal of Adelle to perfection. Every note, every intonation, every breath. That is what people have come to expect of her.”

Kristine gazed sidelong into nothingness before returning her skeptical gaze to me.

“People are already asking questions.  The change you’ve brought about is too sudden; too drastic. Staying here now… not only will Annette’s parents suspect something is up, but so will Annette’s friends and cast members here in New York.”

She rose suddenly and grabbed the bag off the floor. “Fine,” she blurted out.  “Let’s go then and get this sickly sweet homecoming out of the way.”

*****

Our late night flight had us arriving in New Orleans in the wee hours of the morning where we found a hotel to sleep for a few hours.

I sat sipping a tasteless coffee for half an hour before Kristine stirred.  The heavy drapes were open and the sun did its part to bring her to complete wakefulness.

“I don’t know why we simply couldn’t get a flight this morning,” she complained, rubbing the grogginess from her eyes.

“I’ve brought up a few things you can choose from for breakfast.” I gestured towards the dresser where I’d laid out a few muffins, some buttered toasts, a croissant, orange juice and coffee.

“You outdid yourself, Mon amour.”  She pushed the thin hotel comforter off her and headed to the makeshift buffet.

Wearing only a t-shirt long enough to cover her torso, but not quite long enough to cover her buttocks, she offered me a glimpse of her white cotton underpants.

I clucked and forced my gaze to return to my dreary coffee. Unlike Annette, Kristine was obviously unabashed with showing off her body. “We’ll go to the dress shop where Annette’s mother works.”

I dared a glance up at her in time to see her hand go for the muffin. Kristine met her gaze in the mirror and narrowed her eyes at Annette.  “What kind of breakfast is a muffin?” she whispered as she redirected her hand to the croissant.

Ripping off the tip of the croissant, she turned to pout at me. “Du beurre?”

“There’s some in those little containers.”

She grabbed one, peeled back the plastic film and slathered a healthy dollop of butter on her croissant.

“Keep eating and you’ll play the part of Hannibal’s elephant.” I said with an amused chuckle.

Just as she was to take a bite, she dropped the croissant. In a fury, she spun to face the mirror.  “Bitch!”  She grabbed a muffin and threw it to the floor. “Well, you're not going to get a muffin, either.”

Tempted to laugh, I simply watched her antics, proud of the fight Annette was putting up. Kristine picked up a toast, gripped it tightly, slathered butter over what was already there, and took a huge bite.

“Where’s her mother’s shop?” I asked.

“How am I supposed to know?” she irately answered.

“Ask her.”

“Oh, seriously. You're going too far, Eric.”

“Would you prefer we roam the streets aimlessly?”

She emptied a small container of marmalade on the over-buttered toast.

“Will you just ask Annette? Then hop in the shower so that we can get on with this.”

After shoving the rest of the toast in her mouth, she licked butter and marmalade off her fingers and walked to the bathroom.  With a flair for drama, she threw off her t-shirt and entered the shower without closing the bathroom door.

Moments later she emerged wet, freshly fragrant and barely conceal behind the thinning hotel towel. Leaving a trail of water droplets behind her, she went to her bag and rummaged through the contents. With disgruntled huffs, she discarded a series of garments, allowing them to pile up on the bed.

“Did you pack every dull article of clothing this nit of a girl has, or is all her clothing truly this dull?”

“We’re here to visit her parents, Kristine, not seduce all of Louisiana.”

“Quelle Dommage.” Foregoing all decency, she released the towel and let it fall to the ground.

Only my respect for Annette forced me to avert my gaze.  As I busied myself putting away my toiletries, I heard Kristine snicker.

“Really, Eric.Why the puritan?”

Ignoring her, I carried our bags out to the rented car and waited for her.

“So let me see,” Kristine pondered as she got in beside me. “If my cousin Beatrice had Arthur and Thomas, Thomas had Victor, Hugh and Colette, Collette had seven children including Pauline and Pauline had Michelle who is Annette’s mother, that makes Annette…” She turned to flash me a mischievous grin. “That makes her virtually nothing to me.”

I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince me or herself of the distance in her relation to Annette. For the first time that I could recall, she seemed nervous and on edge. Was this meeting with Michelle that intimidating?

I pulled up in front of the dress shop that was just outside the French Quarter and watched Kristine’s reaction. Her eyes lit up with excitement while her lips remained caught in the uncertain grip of her teeth.

“Ready?” I got out before she could respond.

Getting out of the car was a dramatic affair and she drew it out as long as she could.  However, once we entered the shop and Michelle came into view, it was clear Annette had the upper hand.

“Maman!” she exclaimed as she threw herself into her mother’s arms.

As the older woman reveled in her daughter’s presence, I saw the perplexed expression that took over Kristine.

Having met Kristine’s mother only once, and briefly, I was able to see the startling resemblance between the women. Surely the sight of Michelle had a profound effect on Kristine.

“Let me look at you, ma belle,” Michelle cooed. She pushed Annette’s hair behind her ears and gazed lovingly at her. “Even more beautiful than on your last visit.”

Kristine remained slightly aloof and standoffish, and for a moment I thought she would give herself away, but a tear formed in her eye and slowly streaked its way down her cheek. She brought a hand to Michelle’s cheek, cupped it gently and stared for a long moment. “Je t’aime, Maman.”

“Oh, sweetie. I love you, too. And I’m so happy to see you made it home.” She hugged her once again before acknowledging me with a quizzical nod.

“Bonjour,” I said.

“Oh, Maman.  This is Eric.”

“The Eric who helped my little girl become the talk of New York?” The pride for her daughter’s success was evident and her gratitude for my part in it touching.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Binoche.”

“Please, call me Michelle.”

“D’accord.”

“Look, I only came in this morning to finalize a dress I’d promised to a client. But it’s Christmas Eve and I won’t be keeping the shop open too long. Give me another hour to finish up, then we can go home and settle you two in.”

“Parfait, Maman,” Annette said.  “It’ll give me a few moments to show Eric around a bit. Perhaps we could share a beignet.”

We strolled the length of

Bourbon Street

and while Annette seemed to take the lead from time to time, Kristine maintained control and I simply tried to enjoy the tour as much as I could.

New Orleans was fascinating and I knew I would enjoy our stay here, especially since Annette was becoming stronger.

As promised, we met up with Michelle at the family home and again Annette’s excitement came through. However, less given to being taken in again, Kristine held a firmer grip on the emotions Annette sought to display.

“I’ll set Eric up in the guest room,” Michelle said, opening the door to a simple but comfortable room. “You can take up your old room, Annette. Not much has changed, you’ll see.”

Kristine stood in the hall unsure what direction to take.

“Don’t be silly, ma cocotte,” Michelle said with a laugh as she pointed to her right.  “You haven’t been away so long that you’ve already forgotten your life here?”

“Oh no, Maman,” Kristine said. “I’d never forget you or the life I’ve had here.”

It was becoming increasingly difficult to discern who was speaking. Either Annette was succeeding in pushing through or this whole encounter with Michelle had softened Kristine’s resolve.  It almost seemed as though they’d both spoken and Annette’s eyes showed a touch of surprise for the shared response to Michelle.

“Good. Now put your things away and come join me downstairs for some tea.”

Kristine eyed me once Michelle’s back was turned. The emotions that played on her face were new to the Kristine I’d always known. Her pain had always been expressed through violence and anger, revenge and spite. Now a fresh wave of pain appeared in the form of sorrow and regret.

We met at the head of the stairs a few moments later and headed down to find Michelle at the kitchen table with a big pot of steaming tea and four cups set out.

“Expecting company?” Kristine let out.

Michelle smiled and poured tea into two cups.

“Merci,” I said as I grabbed the warm cup.

Kristine reached for hers, then set it down with an angry clang that almost had its contents spilling out.  Michelle gazed curiously at her, but said nothing.  Again she picked it up and again she set it down, though with more restraint. Holding the cup firmly in place, she reached for the tongs and picked up a sugar cube and dropped it in her cup.

“Since when do you sweeten your tea?” Michelle asked with amusement.

Her second sugar cube held aloft over her cup, Kristine smiled stiffly.

“That’s how they drink it at the Opera House. I didn’t want to make a fuss and have them change their ways just for my sake, so I became accustomed to drinking it this way.”

“Oh, heavens. What else has New York changed about you?”

A blank expression came over Kristine’s features and I had difficulty containing my laughter.

“Well, Maman…”

“Is that my princess I hear?”

We all turned to the throaty yet gentle voice that came from the entry hall.

“Luis, honey, I’m so happy you came home early,” Michelle said.  “Look who’s here.”

“I know. I know.” He gazed fondly at Kristine and suspiciously at me.

“And this is Annette’s singing coach from New York,” Michelle was quick to explain.

He put his hand out to me, but the guarded expression remained in his eyes.  “Singing coach, hey? Doing house calls?  All the way from New York?” Soft and melodious, his tone nonetheless gave the impression of great authority.

I couldn’t remember when last I’d been so closely scrutinized.  Putting my hand in his I felt the tinge of power he tried to convey. This wasn’t a man to let his daughter be taken advantage of.

“Eric,” Michelle interjected. “This is Annette’s overbearing and overprotective father.  Please forgive him for coming on like a bear.  As a police officer he tends to take the role of protector a little too far sometimes.”

My surprise was evident as was his recognition of such.

Kristine blanched and I instantly knew the fear this man evoked in her. As a man of the law, he might be more apt to see through her pretense.

“And what has my princess so mute and immobile?”

She rose, steadying herself on the edge of the table.

“Dear, are you all right?” Michelle asked.  “You're positively green.”

“We didn’t get much sleep last night,” I explained in light of Kristine’s prolonged silence.

This garnered me a murderous glare from the police officer.

“We took a late night flight,” I hurried to add. “Only a few moments to close our eyes there and a few uncomfortable hours in a hotel room… two hotel rooms.”

“Oh, stop it now, Luis. Annette is a grown woman and…”

“And she is the unmarried grown daughter of a police officer, need I remind you?” He turned his attention to Annette.  Seeing her still hinged to the table, he walked up to her and pulled her into his arms.  “Nice to have you safely at home.”

He eyed me from above Annette’s head and I swallowed my pride and looked at the floor.

We finally settled down to have our tea. Over time color managed to return to Annette’s cheeks, though Kristine spoke barely a word throughout. I was left to expound of the great success Annette had become in New York and to convey to her father how well-surrounded she was.  “The cast, crew and directors all love and cherish her.  Nothing bad could ever befall her with all the support and help she has.”

How was I ever going to explain what had befallen her despite being well-surrounded?

“You look terrible, dear.” Michelle patted Annette’s hand. “Why don’t you go up and get some rest before dinner.”

“I think I’ll do that, Maman.” Kristine seemed relieved to be excused from the table.

“I’ll just go up to assure everything is all right.” I displayed the most innocent smile I could in hopes of reassuring the overprotective father that I had no ill intent towards his cherished daughter.

“Keep the doors open.”

Michelle let out a howl of laughter and winked at me as I helped Kristine up.

Upstairs, Kristine seemed concerned.  “You shouldn’t have brought me here.  This was a mistake. How can I possibly get through this?”

“We’ll get through it.”

“No, we won’t.”

“Just let Annette out here and there,” I said. “Just enough to guide you through this.”

“Oh, she’ll ruin everything.  She might just come out and tell them what I’m doing.”

“No, she would never want to put her parents through that. Annette is strong and independent and would want to deal with this on her own and not involve her parents.” Though meant to reassure Kristine, the message was also intended for Annette. Having a pleasant stay here would calm Kristine and also give me a chance to speak to Michelle about the situation in a calm and productive manner.

“Well, she’d better not.”

“Get some rest.” I patted her on the head like an errant child, kissed her cheek and returned downstairs.

On entering the kitchen I found Michelle heavily engrossed in a telephone conversation while Luis looked up at me from behind his newspaper. I resumed my chair and tried to sip my tea as casually as I could, but the man’s scrutiny was unbearable.

“I assure you I have no ill will towards your daughter, Monsieur Binoche. As a matter of fact, I’m quite fond of her and feel just as protective of her as you do.”

“My daughter is a very beautiful girl, just like her mother. She’s smart, loving and generous, just like her mother.  However, unlike her mother, Annette is still young and naïve, perhaps even a tad gullible.”

“I understand that, sir.”

“I hope you do.” He returned his attention to his paper, just as Michelle hung up.

Her smile was tight and uncertain and I suddenly felt I was missing out on something. She glanced at Luis, her eyes filled with concern.

*****

When Kristine came down an hour later she looked refreshed, but wary.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Michelle said. “I was beginning to think we’d have to go and wake you up at midnight like when you were a little girl.”

Kristine’s smile lit up and her eyes were bright with childhood memories.

“And we have a surprise guest in honor of your return to New Orleans,” Michelle added.

Kristine entered the living room and her eyes darkened slightly as she saw Joana, a family friend who had arrived during her nap.

“Annette, sweetheart,” Joana said as she set her tea down and got to her feet to greet Kristine. She gave her a tight hug, squeezing her with love and affection. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Me, too,” Kristine said, though she was plainly flustered.

Michelle came in carrying a tray laden with golden pastries stuffed with a variety of tasty fillings. “Seeing how you can’t stay for dinner, Joana, I hope you’ll at least have a few bites.”

“Your cooking? How can I resist?” She took a napkin and placed three pastries neatly atop.

A conversation that revolved around Christmas traditions, New Orleans weather and Annette’s career took up the next hour and while Kristine seemed to let Annette take the lead on occasion, the effect was no less confusing for Luis, Michelle and Joana.

Glances went back and forth between the threesome and Luis occasionally shot me an accusatory glare.

“Oh, I almost forgot, Annette,” Joana said as she reached for her purse and pulled out a small box wrapped in silver paper and topped with a simple bow. “I wanted to give you a gift before you return to New York. A little something to keep New Orleans close to your heart.”

Kristine accepted the gift with skepticism. Her eyes narrowed far more than she should have allowed them to and her suspicion was thick, filling the room. “Thank you. I wasn’t really expecting any gifts.”

Luis and Michelle exchanged a concerned look.

A childish giddiness took over as Kristine slowly tugged on the ribbon. Her anticipation overtook her suspicions and she smiled.

I nudged closer to peer into the box as she pulled up the lid. A beautiful red cross encrusted with rubies lay on a cushion of satin.  No sooner was the box open and she’d glimpse the cross that she dropped it. I discreetly glanced at her fingers to assure they’d not been burned, her reaction to the sight of the cross was so strong.

Realizing she had no intention of picking it up, Joana quickly swooped down to pick up the offending article.

“It is truly beautiful, Joana,” I said, knowing as the words came out that it was a futile attempt to cover up Kristine’s inexcusable reaction. “New York could never offer such an exquisite piece.”

Joana nodded, but her eyes remained on Kristine. “I know how much you loved the one I gave you last year and I thought you would like this one as well. It’s infused with holy water.”

The tension that took over Kristine was surely visible from across the room. Her hands clenched and she bit her lip repeatedly. Again her parents exchanged odd glances.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” Michelle said following a discreet wink from Joana.  “Annette, I was hoping you would help me with the festive pies for the neighbors. I know how much you love making them and I’ve waited for you to be here before starting.”

“Oh, of course, Maman.” Kristine glanced at me and I tried to convey with my eyes her need to let Annette out during this time. If she noticed, she did a good job of ignoring it.

“I hear she’s well-loved in New York,” Joana said the moment Kristine was out of the room.

“Yes, incredibly so. Her public can’t get enough of her. She has an unforgettable voice and a stage presence that is rarely seen in someone so young and inexperienced.”

“She always had a charming way about her; an ability to draw people in.” She glanced at the doorway through which Kristine and Michelle had disappeared and brought her gaze slowly back to me.

“Evenings in New Orleans are always a treat. Have you had a tour of the grounds? Luis puts special effort into making it a wonderland well worth strolling through.”

Her tone was just firm enough to indicate that this was an invitation I was not to refuse.

“Have you known Annette long, Eric?” Joana asked the moment we were outdoors.

“From the very first day she arrived.” I followed her as she took a path that led to a small pond at the far end of the property.

She stopped walking suddenly and turned to look at me. Her eyes scrutinized every inch of my face and I felt she could see my soul. “I know men, young man, and I know how men can play with the heart of a young woman, especially someone like Annette. As strong and intelligent as she is, her youth leaves her with much to learn about the ruthlessness of men.”

“I assure you I have only the…”

“I have no doubt of your intentions.  I can see the love in your eyes and I feel the depth of anguish you now feel for her. I only hope that your love is not simply for her beauty, but for the heart of the woman she really is.”

“She has touched my heart in a way I’d never thought possible.”

“Then surely you realize that it is not Annette in there rolling out pie crusts with Michelle.”

My breath caught in my throat and my eyes widened far more than I would have wanted.

“Yes, it’s obvious, Eric. I’ve no doubt that’s why you brought Annette here to begin with.  You knew her parents would see the change in their daughter, and believe me, it didn’t take them long to notice.”

“Forgive my surprise. You are all far more astute than I had expected, and I’m deeply grateful for that.  Telling her mother and father what had happened to her was not something I was looking forward to.”

“Annette needs to wear this necklace. Whatever or whoever has taken over her, she must ward it off and this cross will help her. The reaction she had to it was greater than I’d anticipated.” She pulled the box out of her pocket. “I don’t understand what happened to the one she had.  She wore it constantly. It soothed and comforted her and with the uncertainties of her new life in New York, I knew she kept it preciously on her person at all times.”

She held it out to me and I felt the weight of importance this piece of jewelry had. “You have to find a way to get her to wear it.”

Relieved to have found a way of helping Annette, I reached out for the red cross, but recoiled the moment my fingers touched it. Joana’s hopeful gaze instantly became one of suspicion; almost fear.

“Our father who art in heaven,” she muttered.

I was confounded by my body’s reaction to the cross.

“Hallowed be thy name.”

All my life I’d entered cathedrals without mishap.

“Thy kingdom come.”

Religious items had never been a problem.

“Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

And now I felt the fear I’d seen in Joana’s eyes. What was happening to me? How was Kristine’s presence here affecting me? “Perhaps it would be better to leave it in the box.”

She smiled, though tentatively. “I fear for that young woman, Eric, and I’m trusting you – Michelle and Luis are trusting you – to do everything you can to get her to wear this cross.  She’ll need it in order to battle this entity and return to herself. She must be able to guard herself from the evil that has taken over. Right now she’s too vulnerable to it.”

“I understand.” I held out my hand and she laid the small box in my palm. Though tolerable, it still felt uncomfortable having it with me.

“Whoever has taken over Annette seems to have some attachment to you.  I won’t question you on this attachment, but will only tell you how vital it is you send the present caretaker of Annette’s body to whence it came.”

“Yes. Thank you. I was hoping I would find help here; from her family; the people who know her best and care for her the most.”

“You did right, Eric. I hope you’ll continue to do what’s best for Annette… and that may not necessarily be what’s best for you.”

Chapter 4

“Annette, what’s gotten into you? This has always been one of your favorite things to do for the holidays,” Michelle said with a titter.

I entered the kitchen to find the pair in the midst of balls of pie dough, cherry filling and the makings for sugar cookies.

“It is. I’m just feeling so clumsy. I’ve barely cooked since I’ve been in New York and I haven’t baked at all.”

Though she fumbled with the ball of pie dough instead of properly rolling it out, Kristine smiled and seemed to be enjoying herself more than I’d ever seen.

“Here,” Michelle said as she sprinkled additional flour on the counter. “This should help you.”

“This is fun,” Kristine said as she rolled out the pie dough and it began to take shape.  “I needed this. Just to relax, have fun and get away from the constant pressure of New York.”  Baking was bringing out the festive side of her and she began singing.  “C’est Noel, C’est Noel…”

“Well, I’m certainly happy to supply it, dear, but if you don’t stop rolling that poor dough, it’ll be too thin to do much with it.”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll start again.” She resumed her song and gathered her thinly rolled out dough to pack it back into a tight ball.

“Annette,” I said, cutting into her fun.  “I’m happy to see you’re enjoying yourself, but I was hoping you’d come outside with me. It’s a beautiful evening.”

“Go ahead,” Michelle was quick to offer. “I’ll take it from here.”

“But I wanted…”

I reached for her hand and led her outside.

“Eric! What are you doing? For once in a hundred years I was having fun and you have to come in and drag me out here?”

“I think this wasn’t a good idea after all.”

“Of course it was a good idea. I’m bonding with Maman. I think we get along fabulously.”  She smiled sweetly, but mischief played in her eyes.

“Don’t get too cozy. After dinner we’re leaving.”

“What? We just got here. That’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t like the way things are going.  Besides, I heard you singing in there and I fear the lack of practice is beginning to show already.  Your voice is getting lazy.”

“It’s not lazy. It’s on holiday. I wasn’t really singing.  I was just… it’s silly kitchen singing.  For crying out loud, I’m not going to belt out a little Christmas song with my operatic voice.”

“That’s no excuse. Don’t underestimate how high Annette has set the bar. Her public expects little less than pure perfection. We need to return to New York and get back to work.”

“You're exaggerating and you're being paranoid. My voice is fine and it will be fine when I return to New York.”

“Look, I’m just trying to help.  You're the one who’s going to look the fool when you get on that stage and can’t hit the notes as Annette has always done.”

Kristine kicked at the ground in frustration and turned her angry eyes to me.  “Fine,” she shouted. “Fine.  I can’t believe that I’m here with you all these years later and you're still ruining my fun.  Do you just enjoy breaking my plans and seeing me miserable?”

I grabbed her by the elbow and guided her back inside. Judging by the relieved expression on their faces, Joana had had a chance to tell the Binoches of our earlier discussion. With their suspicions confirmed, they looked to me to remedy the situation.  Michelle smiled, her eyes silently thanking me. Luis’ gaze held heavier skepticism and I couldn’t really blame him.

To see his daughter in this state and have to trust me to bring her back couldn’t be easy for a man so accustomed to controlling each situation.

“I rolled out the dough, Annette,” Michelle said, doing a convincing job of treating Kristine as she had moments earlier. “All you have to do now is pour in the cherry filling.

Kristine clapped her hands and skipped into the kitchen leaving Michelle to gaze at me with an additional plea to help her daughter.

I nodded then sat facing Luis to bide my time until dinner was ready.

It was tense as we all sat at the table and I feared Kristine would come to realize the difference in the way Annette’s parents were treating her.

“I can’t remember the last time I ate such a sumptuous feast,” Kristine mumbled as she took a firm hold of a turkey drumstick and ripped a surprisingly large chunk from it.

“I’m pleased to see you enjoy it.  I imagine New York doesn’t offer home cooked meals like you're used to here.”

She seemed to be a bottomless pit of hunger and as she reached for another helping of mashed potatoes and gravy, I thought the night would never end.

“We’re going to try to catch a flight back tonight,” I finally announced.

Kristine glared at me and for a moment she appeared ready to flick her fork load of mashed potatoes at me.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Luis reminded me. “It’s going to be murder getting a flight back.”

“That’s right,” Kristine said. “Listen to Daddy. We’ll just end up spending the night at the airport.  Might as well stay here.”

Michelle’s eyes widened with fear and her lips parted to argue.

I reached for Kristine’s hand and held her gaze. “I’ll get us a flight back,” I said in a firm tone that left no room for argument.

After sopping up every drop of gravy with a crust of bread, tasting the cherry and mincemeat pies and drinking two cups of tea, Kristine was finally ready to rise from the table.

Michelle began clearing the dishes, obviously anxious to have her possessed daughter on her way to being cured.

“We’ll go up and get our bags,” I said, gesturing to Kristine to follow me up.

Instead of coming to me, she turned to hug Michelle.  “I’ll never forget this dinner.  I’ll never forget tonight.”  She kissed her on one cheek, then the other and back to the first.  “I love you, Maman.”

Michelle’s eyes glistened with tears.  Though she had no idea who Kristine really was, Michelle gathered her in her arms and squeezed tightly.  Whether meant for Annette, Kristine or both of these women lost in their own hell, Michelle exuded love, warmth and a desire to sooth away whatever pain her daughter’s body was going through.

“I love you, too.  I hope you can come back again soon for a real visit.”  She pulled back, cupped her daughter’s cheeks and kissed her forehead.  “Now go gather your things before you really do miss the last flight.”

Kristine nodded, obediently and demurely; so unlike the Kristine I’d always known.

But the moment she exited the kitchen and came towards me, the wicked glare I’d come to know so well, returned.

Chapter 5

Annette

I could feel Kristine’s fury building up inside me and there was nothing I could do.  Every rejection Eric handed her only infuriated her more. Her agitation crushed me more and more, leaving me weaker and discouraged.  The frustration alone was killing me and I feared that every moment she possessed my body she gained that much more control.

Kristine sang with Eric throughout Christmas Day, but I feared her control of my voice wasn’t as it should be. My every attempt to aid her had been ignored as she insisted on doing this her way, but her lack of emotion was startling and she couldn’t find it in her to be convincing in her portrayal of Adelle. We would resumed performances tomorrow and only time will tell if she’ll be able to maintain my public’s adoration.

“You’re getting better, but we need more time.” Eric’s dismay was evident as he stared blankly at the music sheet. For all the hours we’d been in the music room, little had come of it. Kristine was scant better than she had been to begin with.

“I’m sorry, but Annette’s pulling at me from every side. It’s exhausting just keeping her down. Every time I try to hit a note, she’s poking me in the ribs, as it were. I think she’s deliberately trying to sabotage by attempt to gain the stage.”

Eric scratched his head and rubbed his eyes. I could see how exasperated he was becoming.  The perfection he’d spent so many months working on was on the verge of being ruined.

“You talk to Annette, if you really want this to work,” Kristine said.

She put her hands on my waist in the way she had a habit of doing. It felt prissy and arrogant, and I wanted to fight her into a more suitable stance.

“Tell her to stop fighting me,” she went on.  “If she could relax and let me get through this, I’m sure I could make the show a greater success than it is.”

His eyes bore through mine and I knew he was reaching in for me. Tender and concerned, his gaze lacked the harshness he usually reserved for Kristine.

I’m here, Eric. Don’t give up on me. I’m fighting as hard as I can.

“She’s fighting for her life, Kristine.  I can’t very well tell her to give up. She’d never listen to me, as she shouldn’t.”

My heart rate increased and I knew Kristine was getting riled up again. I could feel her anger course through me and the more I fought it the more heated it became.

“She’s winning, Eric,” she said in agitated frustration. She reached for the sofa, letting her hand pass over the fabric as though longing to recline. “Damn it, stop looking at her like that.  She’s winning. I can barely stand it anymore.  She’s taking over.”

What?  I am?

He held his gaze steady, searing through Kristine’s façade and looking directly at me.

My hand reached up to touch his cheek and it was by my will. Kristine no longer had control.  I smiled with giddiness, elated with my victory.

“I’m winning, Eric.” I said in a voice that was soft and joyful; a tone Kristine could never simulate.  “I’m beating her.”

A smile came to his lips while a long, slow breath seeped through his lips. “Annette,” he murmured with uncertainty.

“I can beat her, Eric, so long as you're there to help me.”

“I’ll never stop fighting for you, Annette. I brought this on you. It’s me she wishes to destroy.”

“I won’t let her ruin you or me.”

He brought my fingers to his lips and tenderly kissed each digit.

“Every ounce of energy is being used to keep her from beating me and I’m feeling so fatigued. What a strong-willed woman she is.” I looked longingly at him, eager to taste his lips and fill the crush of his chest against mine. I leaned in closer.

“Forgive my suspicion, Annette,” he said, his fingers gripping my hand and halting my approach. “I want to be sure it’s really you.  Beyond a doubt.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Sing. Sing as only Annette can truly sing.”

Smiling with the sense of assured victory, I plucked a sheet of music at random and set it in front of him. Just hearing the first few introductory notes heightened my senses and I was suddenly filled with the pain and betrayal the song needed. I sang.

“Yes,” Eric moaned with relief. With his eyes closed and his lips curved into a smile, he mouthed the lyrics that emanated from my throat.

After only one verse, he abruptly left the piano and pulled me into his arms. “It is really you, Annette.” For the longest moment he looked into my eyes, drinking in the undeniable truth. I was back.  He kissed me and I felt the softness and complete tenderness of his embrace. As though kissing a delicate flower, his lips barely brushed against mine and his hold of me was gentle and tentative. “How I’ve missed you.”

I clung to him, enraptured by the sensations of his arms, his chest and his hands.  The warmth of his skin left me drunk with desire and I knew how badly I wanted him. “Now, Eric.  Take me now.”

My hands reached for his pants and prepared to eagerly rid him of the garment that kept us apart. For a moment my breath caught in my throat and I stiffened in Eric’s embrace. As hungry as I was for him, that move had not been my own. My fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans then yanked at the zipper.

He guided me into his bedchamber, his hands never leaving my body, his lips never far away. His breath swept across my cheeks and I could hear the struggle with every intake of air as he tried to maintain a degree of control over his passion.

My senses were overloaded with pleasure and I just wanted to get closer to him still. But confusion began to weigh on me as a fog rolled in, leaving me unsure which move was mine. My hands had a mind of their own as they roamed over his body. It’s the pure desire I have for him, I told myself. The desperate need to touch him has me losing control of my actions.

His fingers combed through my hair and gripped the nape of my neck, bringing me in as his lips captured mine.

“You’ve no idea how I feared for you, Annette,” he said between kisses. “How I longed to have you back.”

He stopped suddenly and held my gaze, his eyes solemn and filled with remorse. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, my love.” His lips traveled down my neck as he began to unbutton my shirt.

My breath caught high in my throat and my eyes widened with surprise at the shock of sensation as his lips brushed over the swell of my breasts.  He pulled my shirt off and brought his strong hands to the small of my back, pushing me to arch my chest up to him.  Burying his face between my breasts, he sighed and uttered my name repeatedly.

I tried to remain on my feet, but the exhaustion and overwhelming sensations made it virtually impossible to remain upright. If we could lie down, I’d feel better. I’d regain control of my failing limbs. But he kept a strong hold of me as he worked to rid me of my jeans.

Every moment left me dizzier and every sensation from his hands more confused. My hands went to his jeans and pried them down.  He chuckled and kicked free of his boots before leaving his pants in a pile on the floor. With one quick motion, he pulled his shirt over his head and flung it across the room, revealing his broad muscular chest that tapered down to a strong washboard stomach. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

“I’ve waited for this moment, my sweet. To take you in my arms. To take you completely.”  His fingers traced over the lace of my bra and my skin responded instantly.

My lips parted and my eyes hooded with hunger.

He pushed me back onto the bed, rolling with me until he had me straddling him.

“Tu est magnifique.” I heard myself say as my hands played over every muscle of his chest.

In the heat of his passion, he ignored the words that weren’t mine and simply smiled as he wrapped his hands around my waist and pressed me closer to him.

I wanted to scream, but my voice was choked. I wanted to run, but my limbs no longer responded to my command. I wanted to slap Eric out of his lustful haze, but my hands simply roamed over his chest bringing forth additional hunger and longing.

Battling for control, I became lightheaded and the room darkened until I was enshrouded with unbearable gloom.

Dizzy, spent and exhausted, I collapsed over Eric.

Chapter 6

The moment I opened my eyes I knew Kristine was back in control. I had known it moments before I’d collapsed on Eric and was thankful for the complete black out. At least it had stopped Eric from giving his affections to Kristine.

“Good morning.” Eric walked up to the bed and sat beside me. After setting a cup of coffee on the night table, he brushed the hair off my face. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever rise.”

“What time is it?”

“Late enough that you're going to have to rush to make your return to the stage.But not enough that you can’t have coffee and a proper breakfast.”

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”  Kristine almost brought a frosty edge to my voice, but was quick to warm it up.

Eric brought his fingers to my forehead.  “You were beyond exhausted. I even feared you might be ill.” His fingers pressed tenderly against my temple. “You're warm.”

“Only because you're here, love.”  Kristine sat me up. I could feel the energy it took for her to hold all her vibrant sensuality still. But she managed it too well.  She turned away from him and by God if I didn’t feel my cheeks heat up with a blush.

“You gave me quite a fright.”  He gently kissed me and handed me my coffee. “You went out without warning.”

“Oh, Eric. I’m so sorry.” Kristine took a sip of coffee, but I felt her tongue swirl around the unsweetened java. “I hope you don’t think I was toying with your desire.”

“Don’t worry. I know how dreadful these past days have been. It’s perfectly understandable. Now come.” He led her into the kitchen.

Eric had prepared a veritable feast and Kristine was prepared to take full advantage.  While she filled up on poached eggs and a few toasts, Eric watched with amusement.  I tried to find solace in the love I saw in his eyes, but being under Kristine’s hand again left me fearing for what was to come.

Remembering my penchant for muffins, Kristine plucked one out of the basket on the table and walked away, picking crumbs off and popping them in my mouth. She gazed at Eric to ensure he’d caught the confirming move. “I’d better get going.”

“I’ll bring you.” He walked up to me, gave me a quick kiss and winked. “I wouldn’t want you getting lost.”

My heart melted and I longed to kiss him forever. He was so incredibly handsome, and when he looked at me that way, I knew I wanted to be his for the rest of my life.

A warm sensation enveloped me and I knew that he was having the same effect on Kristine.  Was that what had appealed to her?  His great looks? But he’d been scarred back then. Had he always worn a mask when with her? Had she loved him despite the disfigurement?

When she arrived at the Met Kristine hesitated a moment before remembering where my dressing room was.  We crossed the path of a few cast members, but she haughtily ignored them and walked on.

I was devastated as she came upon Judy and turned away from her greeting, leaving Judy red-faced and huffing away.

She’s a friend. Can’t you at least say hello?

“She’s a two bit dancer in the show. As lead I hardly think it’s appropriate to cavort with such common performers.”

I wanted to knock her head into a wall.  How was I ever going to repair the rifts Kristine was creating?

She entered my dressing room and quickly slammed the door before heading to the rack of costumes. Yawning and thoroughly unimpressed by all of them, she flicked hanger after hanger, giving each gown a disdainful grimace.  “This shoddy workmanship would have never been tolerated in my day.”  She obviously had no idea what gown to wear for the first act.

It’s the green one with the billowy sleeves and scoop neckline.

“I know.” She yanked it off the rack and threw it on the back of the chair.

A gentle knock rapped at the door and while Kristine’s excitement grew, so did my apprehension.

The door creaked open and Aaron peered in. “Is my star back and ready to wow the crowds of New York anew?”

“Aaron, darling.” Kristine waved him in. “I’m so happy you came to see me before I went on. I’m worried about the effect my Christmas break might have had on my voice.”

Though he entered the room, he seemed reluctant to get close. Kristine took a step towards him and he backed away. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Besides, the holiday crowd is always a bit more forgiving.”

While his eyes remained on me, his hand reached for the back of his head and he rubbed lightly. Poor Aaron.  The last time I’d seen him he was an unconscious heap on the floor. Did his head still hurt from the bump he received on the head from Chace?

“Chace was only trying to protect me, Aaron,” Kristine said. “I do hope you’ll forgive him.”

“I’ll admit if he wasn’t first chair violinist, he might have been out on the street.”

Kristine feigned sadness. “Please forgive him, Aaron. He’s young and meant no harm.”  She held an intense gaze on him. “You know, I really missed you, Aaron.”

He smiled and relaxed. “You’ve only been away a few days.” He chuckled and reached out for my hand.

Kristine eagerly accepted it and pulled him closer.  “I was hoping you’d missed me as well.”

His smile broadened and he pulled me into his arms. “You know me too well, Annette. I thought of little else since I last saw you.”

“Really?” Her voice remained soft and lacked the heavy sexual undertone she was apt to use.  She brought my hands to play along the nape of his neck and up into his hair. “Then I guess my Christmas wish came true.”

“You know, I was thinking… I was hoping…” He seemed uncharacteristically nervous and unsure.  This confident business man, impresario and man of the world was shaky in my presence. Or was it Kristine who was affecting him so?  “I was hoping you’d like to join me.  I’m flying to Paris to celebrate the new year.”

“Paris.” The word was a hush, a wish. A long forgotten memory. I felt Kristine’s longing.

“I go every spring to visit my family, but I’ve been longing to go with you. It’s breathtaking in the winter, and so romantic. I know you would love it.”

“It does sound wonderful. But what about the show?”

“We’d leave for only a number of days.  Besides, I’d like to bring you to the Paris Opera House.  I think it could be an excellent learning experience for you.  Not only are they opening a spectacular new opera, but I’d like you to see for yourself the ingenuity of my ancestors. When my great grandfather had the House constructed, it was an absolute marvel of engineering and design… and the acoustics – simply to die for.”

“You make it sound splendid, Aaron.”  Kristine nodded and tilted up to kiss Aaron. “I’d love to go to Paris with you. I’d go anywhere with you. These past days have been a rush of confusion and fatigue and I’d love to get away from it all.”

He kissed my lips, hesitant and wary. “You constantly surprise me, my sweet Annette.”

“These days apart have only made me realize just how much you mean to me.” Kristine kissed him, passionately drawing him in and enveloping him with my arms.

Aaron’s resistance faltered and he held me tight, crushing my breasts to his chest.

Kristine pulled away and reached down to the hem of my shirt, preparing to pull it off.  “You’ve no idea how I’ve longed for you.”

Aaron regained his professional composure and stilled my hands. “And I you, my love. But you’ve a performance and little time to prepare.”

“The consummate professional, even in the light of excruciating passion.” Kristine did a good job of hiding the intensity of her disappointment.

“Your performance will be interestingly enhanced,” he said with a wicked smile.

“Care to stay and watch as I become the famed Adelle.” Though she maintained a sweet and innocent tone to my voice, I felt the power of her passion grow. She put her hand to the green gown and fingered the garment in a seductive fashion. The woman could bring sensuality to virtually any movement she made.

“Tempting, I assure you.” Aaron swallowed and his eyes dipped to my breasts. “But I have little faith in my ability to control myself much longer.”

Kristine was elated by this admission and the look of hunger in his eyes.

He nodded in salutation and put his hand to the doorknob. “I’ll make arrangements for our trip.”

The moment he stepped out the door I felt the celebration in Kristine’s heart. She was positively euphoric and I couldn’t understand the depth of her joy. Why was this trip with Aaron so vital to her?

She hurried to pull the shirt over her head and step out of her jeans.

A shuffling sound from behind the dressing screen caught her attention and she swirled around, my eyes wide and my lips parted to scream. While her stance spoke of fear, I felt her confidence and glee, almost her anticipation.

Eric emerged from behind the screen, his eyes dark and menacing as I’d never seen before.

“Eric,” Kristine said in a soft and demure tone that was very much my own. She even brought the green gown before me in a chaste move to cover my seminude body. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d promised to watch over you, to assure Kristine didn’t return,” he hissed. “I wasn’t quite prepared to see Aaron return into your life so quickly.”

“E… Eric… I….” Kristine did a marvelous job of fidgeting, blushing and stammering. “I work for Aaron and he has my complete career in his hands. It’s important I maintain a good relationship with him.”

I fought to say a word, just one word that would tell Eric that Kristine had returned.

“This is has nothing to do with your career.” The words were spat with such hatred, I cringed.

“Paris is the heart of the opera, Eric.  Going there and seeing the Paris Opera House, seeing a true French opera is an experience I’ll never forget. I can’t simply let it go by.”

“Why won’t you simply admit that it’s Aaron you want?” he bellowed. His fists were tight. While he’d warned me of his capacity for anger and violence, I’d never seen it brought about as it was now. “You’ve always said he was the one for you and only he could make you truly happy.”

Kristine winced internally, but she kept a façade of shock and dismay. Had those words been meant for her or for me? Was he reliving his tumultuous time with her?

She glanced at the floor, solemn and thoughtful then raised her gaze to him. “I’m sorry, Eric. You’re right. I… I guess I just haven’t yet admitted to myself how much I truly care for Aaron.”

No, Eric.  Don’t believe her.  Please, can't you see that she’s back?

He stepped forward, his eyes black and his lips grim. His dark hair cascaded down his shoulders and framed his face in an eerie fashion, adding a demonic dimension to his wrath. With his eyes firmly locked on mine, he reached for my neck, as though possessed. Deliberately strong and forceful, he held me at arm’s length, his thumb playing over my throat.

“That lovely voice,” he said to no one in particular. His eyes had glazed over and his lips had taken a peculiar turn. “What good has it brought me, that voice?  What good has come of any of the work I’ve done, for you, for me, for the world of opera?”

His thumb began to squeeze into my throat and I tried to bring my hands up to reach for his wrist.

Breathing became impossible and the room became dim and small. Kristine did nothing to stop him.  She was passively allowing him to kill me, and she was enjoying it.

Tears came to my eyes as I watched the murder in Eric’s every feature. He pushed me back until I hit the wall then put added pressure to my throat.

“Eric,” I finally managed to croak out.  “Please, Eric.”

Kristine quickly resumed control though I could feel her weakened power.

Eric inhaled deeply, gave me a final thrust against the wall and released me.  I slumped to the floor and reached for the soreness of my neck.

“You sicken me, Kristine.”  He stomped to the door.

Kristine beamed victoriously as he glanced back. His eyes held her gaze and I saw a brief moment of recognition.

Relieved, I stopped fighting Kristine a moment.

He knew.

Chapter 7

Eric

I’ve been duped. Above all that I’d heard and seen between Annette and Aaron, this was what now angered me so. How could I have possibly suspected Annette of being as treacherous as only Kristine could be?

Turning to the wall just outside Annette’s dressing room, I punched into the plaster with more anger and strength than intended, leaving an unsightly hole. My love of everything that was opera, even this New York version of the famed Paris Opera House, had me immediately regretting the gesture. Though deep inside, a part of me felt it was a direct strike at Aaron.  And that felt rather good.

Would the power of the Aragons never cease to cause upheaval in my life? Was it not enough that Kristine had ruined me a hundred years ago with her liaison to Rupert Aragon?  Though I tried to figure out her motive for now pitting me up against Aaron, I could make no sense of it.

Returning to the tunnels that would lead me home, my mind swirled with hundreds of questions; all unanswered. Every turn in the tunnels brought about a new theory, a fresh explanation and a feasible solution.

But when I entered my home, my bedchamber, visions of Annette and Aaron returned with a vengeance. Aaron was smart, handsome and wealthy. He had the power to open every door to the arts, high society and a life of leisure. It was conceivable that Annette be attracted to this great power; what girl wouldn’t be?

And Aaron… his love for Annette was evident. Not only his admiration for the great talent she possessed, but for her heart and soul.

Had that last glimpse of her been a trick of light? Had it truly been Annette smiling so victoriously and I hadn’t the courage to face the truth? The pain of knowing she could possibly love him was unbearable and my heart ached with every step I took in my chamber.

Seeing her clothes and personal affects strewn about my home only reminded me of how much she meant to me. I picked up the shirt she’d worn the night before and remembered the kiss of her lips.  Feeling heady and hungry for her, I brought the garment to my nostrils and inhaled the remnants of her fragrance.

My entire body responded and my resolve to help her increased in intensity.

Though there was a possibility that Annette had truly fallen in love with Aaron, that she had been in complete control during their encounter, I had to consider the possibility of Kristine’s part in all of it.

I glimpsed the small white box on my dresser and quickly reached for it.  Remembering my inability to touch the crimson cross within, I sought my leather gloves and hoped it would be enough.

In a fog of plans, trepidation and fear, I hurried back to Annette’s dressing room. The halls were a rush of preparation, of last minute adjustments and exquisite anticipation for the night’s show.

My polite knock at the door was meant to sooth Annette’s fears and reassure her of my calmed anger.  “Annette,” I said in a hushed and remorseful tone.  “May I please come in?”

Silence.

My heart raced as I feared she’d already joined the cast for their pre-show ritual.

Then the doorknob slowly turned and the door opened a crack.  Her eyes, soft and fearful gazed at me.

“I owe you a great apology, Annette.” I looked for traces of Kristine and could not find any. Who was I now facing?

She opened the door and allowed me in.  “I don’t have much time, Eric. Everyone will be waiting for me.”

The rich and deep green of her gown played exquisitely against her pale skin and dark hair. Now pinned up as Kristine would have worn it years ago, she was a vision to behold.

“I allowed my anger to get the better of me.”

She turned to the mirror and examined her reflection with a pleased eye. A glimmer of Kristine’s vanity showed through, empowering me more.

“You’ve a right to love whomever you choose and I must abide by your choice.”

Accustomed to seeing me angered to the point of madness, Kristine drew her lips down in a disappointed frown for a brief moment. She turned to me with a flame of treachery in her eyes. “I’m happy to see you’ve come to your senses, Eric.  It was never my intention to hurt you, to lead you to believe that you and I could…”

Though I knew I was taking part in a play, a ruse and that this was just theatrics, my heart tightened and pained as she uttered the words.

“We’ve never truly had a future together.”

“Of course.  I’ve known all along.”  I gazed into her eyes, clearly seeing Kristine’s disappointment at my continued calm and acceptance of our fate. While my fingers pried open the small box in my pocket and scooped up Joana’s cross, I brought my free hand to her neck and gently fingered the skin I’d recently abused. “Please tell me I didn’t truly harm you.”

“I feel fine, Eric.  You frightened me more than anything.”

“Let me see.” I tilted her chin up and saw the red markings where my thumb had pressed into her throat. I flinched. Trailing my fingers over the tender skin, I watched her relax and close her eyes.

Inside my pocket, my fingers worked to have the chain ready to be clasped about her neck. I inhaled deeply, and leaned down to kiss the smooth line of her jaw while I brought the cross out of hiding and quickly secured it in place.

Her reaction was instantaneous and violent. Her eyes flew open with rage while she bared her teeth and growled at me.  “What is this?” she screeched. “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

She struggled and twirled in a vain attempt to flee the pain of the cross.  Bending over, she managed to get the cross to leave her chest, but it didn’t stop the pain.

I reached out and brought my thumb to her forehead to mark the sign of the cross.  This threw her into a fit of rage as she thrashed about striking whatever got in her way.

“I command this evil spirit leave Annette’s body. Do not enter her again. In God’s name, Amen.”  The words felt strange on my tongue, but Joana had assured me they would ward off Kristine’s hold of Annette.

“How dare you do this to me,” Kristine shouted. Her hands flailed out in attempts to strike me, but she seemed blinded by her rage. “How dare you. You vile monster.”

My hand automatically reached for my face, fingering the skin that had remained scarred and unsightly for so long.

“No one could even bare to look at you.  Only I was capable of loving you, Eric.  Only I had the heart to be with you.”

And she had never missed an opportunity to remind me of such.  Despite the love she now claimed to have had for me, she’d controlled me and used me, sending me running to the salvation of the darkened tunnels below the Paris Opera House by simply reminding me of the monster I truly was.

“I did everything to help you, everything to bring you a life of wealth and luxury.  When I plotted out Rupert’s demise at your hands it was for us, Eric.  To give us a better life.”

“You tried to frame me for his murder.”  Defending myself to her decrepit soul was useless, but the words nonetheless echoed in the small room.

“You’d betrayed me. You’d let me down. You never loved me, Eric. Neither you nor Rupert ever truly loved me. You both used me, toyed with my affection and left me struggling when things didn’t go your way. You deceived me into thinking you wanted to be with me for life. And now you're ruining everything again.”

Her face was twisted into an ugly grimace that was barely recognizable and the choking sounds that emanated from her had me fearing for Annette’s life.  Would Kristine kill Annette rather than free her?

“I hate you, Eric,” she groaned. Her eyes rolled back in her head. “For all eternity, I shall loath you.”

She crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Chapter 8

Annette

The pounding of an intense headache greeted me as the distant sound of Eric’s voice broke into my consciousness.

“Annette, wake up.”

I felt the weight of the cross around my neck and remembered the last moments with Kristine. My eyes fluttered open and I tried to focus on Eric’s face.

“Annette?” He cradled me, his fingers lovingly tracing a line from my temple to my cheeks. But the doubt of who possessed my body was still with him.

“Eric,” I mumbled. My lips were numb and unresponsive. I reached for the crimson cross and held it tightly.

He smiled and wrapped his hand around mine.  “Can you stand?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling a flood of strength permeate my body.  This wasn’t the scant power Kristine had allowed me the day before.  I was in full control and sensed she was no longer with me.

A knock at the door startled us both.

“Annette?  We’re waiting for you.”

Shocked, I looked at Eric.  “I have to go on. How can I…?  How will…?”

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his voice a deep whisper that was thick with emotion.  “Don’t fear all the sensations you now feel. Use them.  Bring them to the stage with you and remind the crowd who Annette is and what she’s capable of.”

“I’ll be right out,” I called out though I had no idea how I would manage. Eric’s hand clamped down tightly around mine, and I could feel the strength he wanted to transmit to me. His eyes filled with love and compassion, I looked at him through Kristine’s eyes, seeing him as she must have. But in that same moment of seeing the wealth of emotions on his face, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was all for me.  How could I compete with the alluring sensuality Kristine exuded so effortlessly?  I suddenly felt so naïve and childishly innocent. What did I have to offer a man?  A man who’d known the depth of passion with a woman like Kristine?

I stood, shaking off my uncertainties and shifting my concentration to the night’s performance.

“Show them that Annette is truly back,” Eric said with a smile.

It didn’t take long for me to become completely enveloped in the role of Adelle.  The crowd welcomed me, the music lifted me and the words that came from my lips took on a whole new meaning.

I lived them through my brief experience with Kristine. The pain and heartache, the treachery and betrayal, the murderous revenge. It all made so much sense now, too much.  When Theo, playing the role of my beloved Emile, sang to me of his undying love and eternal gratitude for all Adelle had brought to his life, I saw Eric and Kristine.

My, how he must have loved her to have immortalized his passion in an opera that would live on and on.  As I looked into Theo’s eyes, I felt Kristine inside me, not as she had possessed me, but the remnants of her spirit.  The hatred and violence. The unhappiness that had rendered her so bitter and bloodthirsty.

Though their affair ended badly, Eric’s passion for Kristine remained, strong and unceasing, transcending death.

The last note of the last song had not made it to the furthest balcony that the crowd got to their feet in elated applause. I glimpsed several tissues being blotted to the corners of the female patron’s eyes and a few men blinking away unshed tears.

Overcome with my own emotions, I stood and took in the adoration of my public. The applause seemed to go on forever and I knew that I had profoundly touched them.

Chapter 9

Eric

Annette’s performance was truly something to behold. She’d surpassed my expectations and had brought a whole new depth and power to the role of Adelle. The public’s reception of her performance made the evening all the more fulfilling.

Pushing through the throngs of admirers who’d already begun to crowd the back halls, I eagerly sought the star of the night. But my approach was halted when I saw Aaron at her side. Professional, if not pompous, he held a possessive gaze on Annette.

Over the many words of congratulations, encouragement and praise, Aaron gazed at me, his eyes instantly divulging his recognition, though of whom, he didn’t seem certain.

Our eyes remained locked together, sizing each other up, analyzing our opponent. As well we were; each vying so stridently for Annette’s affection. If the crowd noticed the animosity that traveled across the room between us, they didn’t let on, but remained enamored with their goddess Annette.

His eyes told of the search his mind was conducting.  Was my face familiar to him?  Was he aware of the rivalry between his ancestor and I? The proud stance he maintained told of his assured victory. His claim of Annette was strong, for he held her career in his hands.  But his hands betrayed him, repeatedly fisting and flexing as he no doubt knew I was a worthy adversary.

He turned his attention to the crowd, speaking with confidence and authority.  Annette smiled, signed autographs and posed for pretty pictures with her fans, occasionally glancing up at me.

Though she smiled, a nervous twitch on the corner of her lips indicated her unease.  Was I the source of her discomfort?  Could my presence be the cause of the tight fidgeting of her fingers?

“When we last saw you, there was talk of a budding romance,” a columnist shouted out.  “Is the impresario still enamored with his starlet?”

Aaron chuckled and gazed lovingly at Annette.  In a gesture of proprietorship, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, drawing a sweet smile from Annette.

The image they portrayed was captured by a dozen cameras as the crowd became enraptured by the blossoming romance.  But I was struck by the sight, immediately remembering the sight of Annette in Aaron’s arms only hours earlier.  My gut tightened and my jaw clenched.

Punching a hole through the wall wouldn’t do this time.  It was his face I wanted to pummel.  The rage, the anger and the need to see his blood soon painted over the scene with a haze of black and death.  Voices around me became a distant buzz and all I could see were Annette’s eyes as she gazed lovingly at the man I loathed.

The crowd began to slowly ebb away, leaving only the most ardent fan and hangers-on.

Would they leave together? As was customary, Aaron would take Annette out to dinner, they would share intimate hours together and he would do everything within his power to win her love and admiration.

My mind raced as I thought of my own plans to bring her home and treat her as my princess.

“I must leave you, darling,” Aaron said.  “Though it pains me to do so, I have a pressing engagement I simply cannot avoid. Do forgive me.”

“Of course I do, Aaron.” Annette’s eyes showed only the slightest signs of relief. “My return to the stage has left me completely exhausted and I fear I wouldn’t have been very good company. I’ll no doubt be early to bed.”

With his hands clamped over Annette’s, he leaned down to give her a professional peck on the cheek. “Tomorrow, however, I’m all yours.”

He left her, his eyes victorious as he walked by and gazed at me with disdain.

With the last of the hangers-on being escorted out, I approached Annette.

“Eric, I’m so happy you came by.” Still on her whirlwind of publicity, she maintained her professional tone.

“You knew I’d stay, didn’t you?”

Her smile warmed and her eyes relaxed as she shook off the opera diva and reconnected with the Annette I knew and loved. “You’re a mysterious man, Eric.  You disappear without warning and appear when I least expect you.”

“Are you too exhausted to come have dinner? I’ve something special planned.”

Her eyes bore through mine, questioning, wanting and unsure.  For a brief moment her lips parted and I felt her desire to say something, but she simply smiled and shook her head.

“Abner has prepared a special feast in honor of your return.”

“I’m never too exhausted to be with you.”

Our journey through the gloomy tunnels was silent and I felt the weight of her thoughts. Though she was right by my side, she seemed distant and lost in the depths of her doubts.

Abner had indeed prepared a feast worthy of royalty. The dining room glowed under the shimmer of a hundred candles while the air greeted us with the tempting scents of the meal he’d planned.

“This is all exquisite, Eric,” Annette said, setting down her fork and dabbing her napkin to the corners of her lips.  Her plate was empty and her wine glass dry.

“I’ll let Abner know you appreciate his culinary talent.”

Fatigue showed in her eyes that were narrow and heavy.

I led her into the bedchamber. “These past days have been quite demanding.”

She sighed. “These past weeks.  I’ve never been so busy, so lacking in free time as I have been since coming to New York. I knew it was the city that never sleeps, I just didn’t realize to what I extent I wouldn’t sleep.” She smiled and seemed pleased with her new life in the big city.

With a sigh that reverberated with longing more than fatigue, she turned to me and put her hand to my chest. The simple touch told me of her desire for me. But her gaze remained restrained.

“You’re fearful, my love,” I said. I regretted the words. Now was not the time to speak of her uncertainties. I’d wanted this night to be of passion.

Her eyes widened. Surprised and caught off guard, she brought a quick but unconvincing smile to her lips.  Veiled from the truth, her eyes could not meet mine.

There was no need for her to answer. I knew the conclusion she’d come to. It was evident in every move she made and my heart ached all the more. She would never be truly free of Kristine, not so long as I was in her life.

Chapter 10

Annette

Eric had slept in a guest room, allowing me the time and space I needed to collect my thoughts. His large room was empty without him, but I was thankful for his consideration.  Barefoot and still groggy I walked to the window and glimpsed outside at a New York City that was a buzz of festive activities.  Magical with its mass of Christmas lights and chilled by hints of snow, it was a spectacular city in which to spend the holidays, though far from the traditions I’d grown up with in New Orleans.

Remnants of the Boxing Day shopping crowd filled the streets looking for bargains.  I’d hopefully have some time to get some shopping of my own done.  I desperately wanted to find anything related to the Yankees for my dad and I thought Maman would really enjoy a touch of New York fashion.  Perhaps a silk scarf, or one of those thousand dollar designer handbags.  But a return to rehearsals at the Met was today’s priority and I had to set my shopping list aside.

I rushed out of Eric’s home and down through the tunnels that were now becoming increasingly familiar to me. Though I erred twice, I was able to retrace my steps and find the correct tunnel that led to the Met’s entrance. As I entered the rehearsal hall, the first person I saw was Chace with a new violin under his chin.

His concentration was admirable as he led the orchestra to a powerful climax. His hair tousled around his face and all the emotion and drama of the piece emanated from every part of his being.

A final flick of his bow and the orchestra fell silent.

He gazed at me, his eyes showing quick recognition, but just as quick, indifference.  Was he still angry?  Of course he was.  He had to be.  No doubt he thought I’d played him for a fool.  I could still see his expression as he’d entered my dressing room to find me in Aaron’s arms. The pain, the rage and the betrayal. No wonder he wanted to look away.

I took my place and we spent the next few hours going over several of the songs, but with every song seamlessly gliding into the other, there was little need for in-depth repetition.

When the orchestra, dancers and co-stars began to disperse, I noticed Chace stalling. For minutes he placed his music sheets in order, shuffling them around and tapping them into a neat pile.  He opened and closed his violin case repeatedly, pulled his violin back out and wiped it down with a smooth cloth and settled it back in its case.  His fingers remained on the cover of his case, hesitating and looking for something else to do.

I knew I’d have to make the first move.

Unsure how he’d react, I slowly approached him when the last of the musicians left.  Alone in the rehearsal hall, the air was suddenly stiff and tense.  My throat constricted as I tried to think of something to say.  Standing at his side, the silence that engulfed us made us all the more aware of our awkward reunion.

When he reached out to take my hand I sighed, audibly and without restraint.

“Chace,” I whispered with the heaviness of such regret.

“Come walk with me,” he said simply.

With the hope of his complete forgiveness, I pulled on my coat and followed him out to the streets.  He held my hand and led me to Central Park. Enchanted by the winter wonderland, I allowed myself to relax and take in the beauty of the fresh fallen snow. I inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the cool air that rushed to my lungs.

Chace stopped to buy us each a hot pretzel then found a vacant bench where we could watch the few ducks, geese and swans who wintered there. The scent of our pretzels soon had a black swan trumpeting his way over, eager for a morsel of soft dough.

With a lopsided grin, Chace obliged, nibbling away at the salty outer shell of his pretzel and throwing the softer interior to the eager swan who wasted no time getting even closer for more.

Within minutes I was smiling and laughing, remembering Chace’s ability to make me feel like a child again.  The swan became more insistent, while Chace teased it and tried to urge it closer still. He soon had it dancing around and craning its elegant long neck for a tiny crumb.

“You always make me laugh,” I said, my eyes on the hungry swan. But I was excruciatingly aware of his proximity.  His thigh pressed up against mine and I longed for more of his warmth.

He threw the crumb a few feet away and the disgruntled swan waddled off for its reward.  His eyes suddenly grew solemn and the swan no longer interested him.  “At least there’s that,” he said.  Though he was calm, I could hear the bite in his words.

That heavy silence returned and I couldn’t think of a thing to say to make things better.  How could I explain what had happened, what I’d done to him?

“Let’s face it,” he finally said. “I’m no match for someone like Aaron Aragon. There’s no way I could offer you the life that he can… not even close.  I understand you have to go out and have dinner with him, meet important people who will advance your career, but the jealousy is driving me crazy. I can’t control how it makes me feel seeing you with him. It’s a slow death and I don’t really think I deserve that.”

“Of course you don’t, Chace.”

“It’s not like me to be so violent.”

I nodded and remembered the night he’d snuck into my apartment. He’d been unrecognizable in his rage.  To see this sweet boy with the tousle of curls lurking in the shadows like a madman… A chill coursed through me at the thought.

“I almost killed him, Annette,” Chace said, looking at me and knowing my thoughts were also back to that dreadful night.  “I hit him with my violin of all things… my violin! How crazy must I be to actually do something like that? It was like trying to kill us both. Him with the blow, me with the destruction of the very tool of my career.”

“It was under awful circumstances, Chace, and you really shouldn’t kick yourself for it.”

“I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges.”

“I’ve spoken to him, Chace, and he won’t,” I said, hoping to alleviate that concern. He glared at me and I could see that my conversation with Aaron was little solace.

“I’ve been trying to get transferred to another show.”

I turned to him and clasped his hands in mine. “What? Chace, no.”

“It’s the only way of finding peace in all this hell.”

“But you're so wonderful here and this is one of the biggest productions in New York.  The world will know who you are from this show.  The world will have heard your genius. I hate to see you leave something so important to your career because of me.”

“And in the meantime,” he continued as though I’d not spoken at all, “I think it’s best we not see each other outside the show.”

Tears of guilt lined my eyes and I sought some argument to change his mind.

“Don’t feel responsible, Annette. I knew what I was getting into when I hooked up with you. You're beautiful beyond reason and your immense talent only amplifies that delicate beauty.  You're the star of the show while I’m a simple musician in the depths of the pit.”

“You're hardly a simple musician. You’re first chair.”

“If it hadn’t been Aaron Aragon who so vehemently sought your attention it would have been one of the thousands of men waiting in line to just have a chance to meet you.  All men of power and wealth who could, and would, give you the world.”

“I hate this. It’s not fair that you should have to go. Chace, I wasn’t myself that night and I can’t bear how I’ve hurt you. You’ve been such a good friend since I’ve arrived and I’ve treated you shabbily.”

“A friend?” He seemed less than pleased with my view of our relationship.

“Yes.  A very, very good friend.” I brought my fingers to his lips, hoping to make him see just how important he was to me. “A friend I care very much about.”

He tensed and didn’t move for a moment as I traced his lips with my fingertips. I could feel his warm breath on my chilled digit and it made me ache all the more for him.

“Don’t do that,” he finally said, taking my hand away and tucking it at my side.

“I’m only being playful, Chace.”

“I know, but you're only making me want to….” His voice trailed off as he pulled me into his arms.  I felt the depth of his emotions as he held me and I could have sworn I’d heard a faint cry of anguish from deep in his chest.  His hand reached into my hair and played tenderly at the nape of my neck.  Although it was he who’d lived through such pain, he was consoling and soothing me.  It was just like him to be so caring and thoughtful, and it made me feel all the more dreadful for having abused his tender nature.

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark and intent on my face.  They darted from my eyes to my lips and back to my eyes as though searching for a reason.  The question was plain on his face. Why?

I had no logical answer. None that he would believe, anyway.

My gaze dipped to his lips as they parted and approached, and my heart wanted to feel the heat of his mouth and taste the sweetness of his tongue.  I needed his forgiveness and longed for his touch.

I swallowed and closed my eyes, anticipating his kiss. All I could hear as the seconds dragged on was his breathing, resigned and defeated. When his lips touched my forehead, I opened my eyes and hid my disappointment.  His kiss was chaste and bereft of passion.

“We’d better get going.” He stood and held his hand out for me.  “It’s getting late.”

“Chace?” I suddenly wondered where he’d be transferred to. Would I still see him? Would he come around the Met just to say hi? Could I call him up to chat and laugh? “Have you had word of a transfer yet?”

“San Francisco might be interested.”

I was stunned and shocked, and almost fell back onto the bench.  For some reason I had expected him to get another show here in New York. But clear across the country? “But that’s…”

“In California, yes.”

“What, did China not have an opening?” I regretted the bitter words the moment they were out, but I couldn’t help feeling like I’d been slapped in the face. Though I wanted to understand his desire to get away, truth was I didn’t.

“Believe me, I tried.”

I gaped at him, trying to find a hint of a smile, anything to betray the joke he was playing on me. Solemn and resolved, he took to the path and led me back to the street.

“But, I don’t want you to leave, Chace.”  The statement came out on a wave of an unsteady breath. I didn’t want to be childish and cry, but I could feel a great sob working its way up my chest.

“I can’t sit by and just be your friend, Annette. I wish I could. I wish I didn’t feel everything that I feel for you, but I do. I can’t pretend I don’t, I’m not an actor.  It’s one thing to have you think of me as a friend, but to be aware of the love you have for another man is unbearable.  And being close enough to you to watch that love for him grow is downright excruciating.”

“I don’t think I’m in love with him, Chace.”

“You don’t think?” he asked incredulously.

I ignored the accusation. For crying out loud, I was only eighteen. Did I not have the right to be emotionally confused? Was it not normal for me to not know where to turn with all the events of late? “And I do love you,” I went on.  “It may not be the depth of love you want, but I do love and care for you very much.”

He stopped and took my hands in his and clasped them to his chest. “It’s not enough, Annette. I’m sorry. I wish I could be more mature and worldly, and set my emotions aside and just be pragmatic about the whole thing, but I can’t. Honestly.”

“You're not giving me a chance to get all my emotions sorted out. I’ve only be in New York a short while and it’s been a whirlwind of new people, new experiences, and I’m a little confused by it all.  I never meant to hurt you, or anyone else, but everything is moving so fast, I can barely keep up.”

“The pain I feel is there nonetheless, Annette. I know myself well enough to know that I need to start anew somewhere else.”

He kissed my fingertips then guided me back to the Met. I wanted to argue with him and find a way to get him to stay. If his career were to suffer because of my immaturity and my uncertainty I would forever blame myself. But there was little more I could say.  I didn’t know what I really felt and now was not the time to make some half-baked claim when I didn’t understand all that was going on in my heart.

“San Francisco is beautiful at this time of year and the music scene there is awesome.” Chace spoke matter-of-factly, though I could hear his attempt to sound chipper. “I should have a confirmation from them in a week or two.”

“I’ll miss you,” I blubbered.

His hand tightened around mine and a jumble of emotions had me aching to be in his arms. But when we reached the Met he straightened his shoulders and put on a stoic grin.

“Hey, chin up,” he said, consoling me as I felt the flood of tears working its way up to my eyes. “I was the great friend of New York’s greatest talent of the twenty-first century. When I see your face plastered on every magazine, I can say I knew you. I even got the chance to kiss you. That’s not a bad thing.”

How sweet of him to try to make me feel better when he actually felt so miserable.

After another quick and amicable kiss on the forehead, he turned and walked away without looking back. My leg twitched to chase after him and his name clung to my throat.

Chapter 11

I headed straight for my dressing room barely aware of the people I passed. The walls of the Met were a blur and the sounds around me an incoherent buzz.  I walked right by Judy and didn’t even notice her until she shouted out.

“Hey, are you going to give me the cold shoulder again?” she called out in a reproachful tone.

I turned to her and the moment she saw the tears glistening in my eyes, her sarcastic eyes softened.  She followed me into my dressing room and closed the door. “Are you all right?”

“No.” It was a harsh response that echoed just how angry I was with myself.  I grabbed a hairbrush from my make-up table and violently set to brushing out my hair.  With each stroke, my chest ached until I couldn’t bear it any longer. I leaned one hand onto the table and sobbed.

“Let it out, Annette.  Whatever it is that’s eating you up, just let it pour out.”  Judy passed her hands over my shoulders in a soothing motion as she guided me into my chair.

I stared at my glum reflection for a long moment, just watching the tears flow over my reddened cheeks.  My eyes were soon puffy and I looked a mess, but after a while, I’d cried all the tears I had and felt calmer.

“Being out here is so difficult, Judy.  Everything.  I’m far from home, from my mom and dad. I’ve embarked on a career I’d not really anticipated, and it’s so much more demanding than I would have ever thought.  New people are all around me, and I don’t know which way to turn.”

“You mean new men.” Never one to mince words, she got straight to the heart of the matter. “I suppose Chace finally got up the courage to talk to you.”

I looked up at her reflection in the mirror.  “You knew about this?” I don’t know why I was surprised.  He and Judy were such good friends.

“Everyone knows, Annette.” While her tone wasn’t quite accusatory, it held a note of resentment. “He’s been moping around here trying to act like nothing’s bothering him, but every night you go out with that Aragon, another little piece of him dies.”

“Aaron is my boss,” I said, ignoring her use of his surname and not pointing out that he was her boss as well. “He knows what’s best for my career; what’s best for the show. I can’t very well refuse his invitations. We’re out with important people in society; people who can do wondrous things for my career.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?  You know perfectly well that all those outings with Aragon aren’t strictly business. Even the papers and magazines are talking about your romance with him.  Do you have any idea what that is doing to Chace?”

I stared blankly at her while my fingers played with the Tiffany charm bracelet Chace had given me.

“Chace is a sweet boy who has only the best of intentions. He’d do anything for you.”

“I know that, Judy,” I said, feeling a little defensive. My fingers clung to the silver music note that hung on my bracelet and I could clearly see the expression on Chace’s face as he’d given me the congratulatory gift.  “He gave me this when I got the part of Adelle.”

“I know,” she said in a tone that was flat and displeased. “He was so happy for you. Then again, he didn’t know what your success would do to your relationship. I don’t think he even really knew the existence of Aragon, nor what his presence would ultimately do to you.”

“Is it just me or there’s an accusation in there somewhere?”

“Dinner with important people is one thing.  Rumor of a romance is one thing. Being found in Aragon’s arms… in a passionate, if not downright vulgar embrace…”

“Did Chace tell you that?”

“Are you saying it’s untrue?”

I couldn’t, and I didn’t have the foggiest idea how to explain myself. “Aaron is a very persuasive man,” I finally said.

“Of that I’ve no doubt,” she said. Her sarcasm was grating. “But how do you explain the director, stagehand and any other man who got within a hundred feet of you?  What was your reason for giving them all the eye? Just testing out your star power?”

“Are you calling me a slut?”

Judy didn’t bat an eye. “You certainly learned how to dress like one.”

My fists were balled so tight, I could feel my nails digging into my palms.  How dare she?  How could she? “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“You're right. I don’t. As a lowly second-rate dancer I don’t really have many opportunities to deal with paparazzi, hungry men and fawning fans.”

“Perhaps not, but stage hands and hangers-on sure seem to interest you,” I snapped back. “You with a new date every night. Aren’t you a little too tarnished to be throwing stones at me?”

“Sweetie, I’m on the up and up with any man I date. I never lead him on, tear his heart out with my innocent smile only to trample it with my stilettos before I kick it aside for a new man.”

What an awful thing to say. I could feel the rage growing in my chest and I wanted to scream. I bolted out of my chair and faced her. “You're making it sound as thought I’d deliberately set out to hurt Chace. I’m new to this, remember? I’m new to the city, new to men, new to dating. Chace was my first real kiss, for crying out loud. And you expect me to know the ins and out of relationships and how I should feel and how I should act?”

“Even an innocent knows better than to pit one man against another, especially when that other man is a powerhouse like Aragon.  Chace didn’t stand a chance, but you let him believe he did. That’s worst than a slut, Annette.”

I burst out crying again.  To hear a friend make such accusations was devastating.  All the guilt and the pain flowed from me and I crumpled onto my sofa, bringing a cushion to my chest. “It wasn’t me, Judy,” I finally managed to blurt out.  “It wasn’t me.”

“I know. New York has a way of bringing out the wanton in the most virginal girl, but come on, take an ounce of responsibility, Annette. You knew Chace was falling for you, didn’t you? For crying out loud, he introduced you to his parents. What does that tell you?”

“No. That’s not what I mean. It really wasn’t me, Judy.” I reached up to grab her hand and pull her onto the sofa beside me. “I had no control. I was possessed.”

“What do you mean? You were taking drugs or what?”

I knew it would sound crazy and I knew she wouldn’t believe me. As the words spun around on my tongue, I knew they didn’t make sense. I took a firm hold of her hands to keep her at my side. “I was possessed, Judy.”

“Is that your defense?  Possessed?  Honestly, Annette.  You're not in the bayou anymore.  There’s no voodoo out here. Can’t you come up with something better than that?  I mean, I think the drug thing would be a little more believable, though it would hurt your career.”

“Judy, listen to me.  The Phantom.  All the hauntings here at the Met. The noises and the strange happenings.  Remember when I first left for New Orleans? Remember how the Met seemed to go mad in my absence? Remember the singers who were almost killed for trying to replace me?”

Her eyes lost a touch of cynicism and I knew I was getting through to her. “Oh, my God.”

“That phantom wanted me, Judy.”

She blanched and her lips parted while her eyes took on the same horror she’d felt that night. “He’d scribbled ‘only Annette’ on the mirror… in blood red. He’d had everyone here running in terror.”

“Yes, that’s it. That’s the phantom who took over me. But it wasn’t a he.  It was a she. A she who was wanton and seemed intent on ruining everything. Do you remember my performances after that? You all looked at me as though I’d lost my mind, my voice, and my ability to conduct myself in a proper manner.”

“You saw all this?”

“I was still in there and I saw everything that phantom did. And I fought hard to beat her.  With every move she made I knew that she was causing irreparable harm to my career and reputation.”

Judy’s hands softened in mine and it was now her holding me and trying to console me. “We didn’t know what to make of you. The change was so radical; so overnight.  You were bright and sweet one day, then arrogant and obnoxious the next. Many assumed it was simply the fame that’d made a quick way to your head. Those of us who knew you a bit more were really baffled.”

“Chace, too, right?”

Her head seemed heavy as she nodded and I saw the complete understanding in her eyes. “More than anyone.”

I inhaled deeply, relieved to have the secret out there. Just talking it out with someone felt wonderful and to know that she believed me made it all the more soothing. But how was I going to get Chace to believe such a story?  “I need to tell Chace. I need to make him understand.”

“He’s aware of the hauntings here. And now that I think of it, the Met went quiet and back to normal just when you started acting weird. Surely he’ll realize that.” Horror remained in her eyes as she looked at me.  “How awful it must be to be in your own body and not have control.”

“You can’t imagine.”

She patted my hand with tender affection.  “Chace doesn’t really want to go.  We all know it.  But the sight of you with Aragon is too painful.  He’d jump at the chance not to leave New York if you explain what really happened.  Better yet, let me tell him what happened.  He remembers how horrified I was when that chandelier collapsed on stage. He’ll believe me.”

“Yeah, either that or he’ll think I’m really crazy.”

We both laughed but it was a dry, almost sad laugh.

“I’d better get going. I’ve got a hot lunch date.”

Our eyes met, hers with the anticipation of a biting remark, mine with teasing playfulness.  “Have a good time,” I said, patting her on the behind as she stood to walk out.

“Oh, I will.” She winked and was gone.

I went to sit before the mirror, eyeing my reflection with a new eye.  How these past months have changed me.  I’d arrived the sweet girl from New Orleans and had met Chace, as kind and generous as a boy could be, and we’d instantly connected. How could we not? We were virtually raised with the same values.

The musical note on my bracelet glistened in the light and I was again touched by Chace’s thoughtfulness.  We’d been on such a great path together.

Then Eric, Aaron and Kristine had swept in to turn everything upside down.  What was it about them that had me straying from the one man who could truly make me happy? For all of Aaron’s worldliness, power, and money; I didn’t truly feel that strong connection to him. And Eric…

He was so dark, so dangerous and he drew me in like no other power I’d ever known.  Why was I so weak in front of him? How could he step into my life and cause such turmoil?  Just thinking about him I could now smell the musky scent that always accompanied him.

I wanted to avoid seeing him. I needed to avoid him, for my own sanity; for the protection of my heart.  And for Chace.

The darkness and danger that drew me to Eric was a girl’s childish fantasy and I had no room in my life for that.  My God, he wasn’t even from this century.  How foolish of me to think that anything could ever come of my relationship with him.

And Kristine…I stared at my eyes in the mirror, looking for the slightest sign of her. Was she still here?  Was she still with me?  My eyes widened as I continued to stare, and the space around me grew dark and distant. Was she there?

A firm knock at the door had me so startled I fell off my chair and landed with a sound thump on the floor. Wasn’t bad enough I’d been possessed, I was now spooking myself to lunacy.

I rushed to the door, hoping whoever was there hadn’t heard my stumble.

“Eric.”  All my resolve of just seconds before faded away and my knees buckled at the mere sight of him.

He held a red rose which he passed playfully under my nose. The sweet scent was powerful, but not enough to override the manly scent emanating from him.

“It’s a winter rose,” he said.  A cockeyed grin played on his lips and I could swear he knew the effect he was having on me. He stepped closer until he was in my dressing room and closing the door. “The first from my garden.” He brushed the velvety petals across my cheek, like a soft summer kiss.

My eyes closed despite my will to remain strong and in control.  The spell he had over me was strong and I felt my body tilt into his.

Chace, I thought.  Chace has been hurt enough.  But while I tried to conjure up the bright and boyish face, only Eric’s dark and gloomy one played before my eyes.  Strong and determined, his pull on me was relentless.

Tears stung my eyes when his arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer.  It felt so right… too right.  His touch, his scent and his very breath on my hair all combined to leave me unable to resist.

“Annette.”

My name was a song on his lips.  Hushed and hungry, he said it again and again.  I pulled back to glance at him and had never seen him so happy.

I wanted to tell him how much I loved him and how I longed for him.  But in the same breath, I needed to tell him this couldn’t be; we couldn’t be.

“You’ve no idea how relieved I am to see that Kristine is finally and completely gone.”  He gripped my shoulders and looked me in the eye.  “Not a trace of her.  It’s really all you.”

“Yes.”  I smiled and longed to return to his arms.

“Now we’re finally free to begin a life together.” He leaned into me and covered my lips with his. His kiss was deep and my body didn’t take long to respond. I pulled him closer and my tongue eagerly swept into the warmth of his mouth to taste him.

For all the strength he gave me, he left me so utterly weak to his touch.

“Kristine is behind us now,” he whispered.  “Let’s concentrate on you and me.”

“I hate you, Eric.”

We tensed and held our breaths.  The voice had cackled from nearby and I was relieved to see he’d heard it, too.

“It’s your passion that made me what I am today.”

I wanted to scream at the voice that was so ugly and distorted.

“Your passion drove me mad all those years ago.  Now it’s Annette’s turn to lose her mind over you.”

My eyes locked with Eric’s and my heart thundered so loud, it almost drowned Kristine out.

“You never change, Eric. And you never will.”

“Don’t listen.  She’s a bitter…” Eric began to say.

A loud cackle filled the room and split our ears.

A cool breeze tickled my ear. “He’s not what he seems, this dashing and handsome man before you.”  The voice was directly in my ear, so close I could feel each icy syllable. “He’ll die before you find out about his birth.”

Goosebumps crawled over my skin and I could feel the hairs at the back of my neck bristle with fear and apprehension.  An icy spike pierced through me and filled the room.  A shiver shook me so violently, I stumbled back and reached for my chair.

Eric quickly took a hold of me and kept me steadily on my feet. “Are you all right?”

I looked into his handsome face and felt my breaths come in deep, painful rasps.  He was so handsome, so unbearably handsome, yet…  What was he?  Who was this man who traveled by darkened tunnels and clung to immortal life for centuries?

He seemed bewildered by my scrutiny and I forced myself to relax.  But as I pulled my gaze away from him, a flicker of flame played in his eyes. I blinked and wanted to run, but the fire was already gone when I once again brought my eyes to his.

“My God, Eric.  What are you?  Who are you?”

I didn’t realized I was backing away until I ran into my table.  My hands involuntarily ran over the surface, searching.  I’d no idea what for, but it seemed vitally important I find something; something to hold onto.

Eric tilted his head to the side and gazed sidelong at me.

It was a gaze that was far from calming.  Something eerie clung to his eyes and the more he approached me, the more I cowered.  His eyes hardened as they followed the movement of my hand.

My throat tingled and I remembered the sensation of his fingers around my neck.  The pain returned, reminding me of what he was capable of. The rage and violence, all hidden behind that handsome veneer.

With a prayer on my lips, I reached for the cross around my neck then reached up to finger the soft skin he’d brutally bruised.

“You could have killed me.” The words came on their own. An accusation that had clung to me since the moment his fingers had taken on such a murderous grip.

He stepped closer as his eyes filled with remorse. “Annette, you know very well there’s no need to fear me. It is Kristine who is the Phantom.  Kristine who deliberately pushed me to violence.”  His powerful fingers brushed away mine and tenderly touched the sore bruise.  “But she’s gone now. Please forgive me for laying a hand to you. I would never hurt you.”

“You did hurt me, Eric.” I pushed his hand away from me.

“It was Kristine.” His tone remained apologetic, but his eyes hardened ever so slightly.

“It was still me,” I argued.

“You don’t understand the power she has.”  He turned away and pushed his fingers through his hair, exposing his grimacing profile to me.  The black strands fell back around his face in a fashion that was angry and wicked. The darkness and danger that had always drawn me to him were now alarming.

“She knows how to throw you into a rage and you oblige,” I said.

He spun on his heels and faced me; pain and anger played on his features. A century of torment filled his eyes. “You’ve no idea what she’s put me through.”

“No.” I should have been more sympathetic, more compassionate, but I hadn’t the desire to be understanding at that moment.  My throat still ached and I was tired of trying to understand this endless feud that had nothing to do with me. “But I know what you’ve both put me though.”

Chapter 12

Eric

Kristine has left me feeling like a monster once again. She’s traveled to another time, another continent just to work her demonic evil into my life.  Seeing the fear in Annette’s eyes and knowing that my hand could be the cause of such fear… how I wish it was Kristine I’d truly killed so Annette and I could have some peace.

After I stormed out of Annette’s dressing room, I escaped to my darkened tunnels, just as I had as a child; just as I’d run away from the world who feared the hideous monster with the disfigured face.

I’d no doubt Kristine planned to turn Annette against me. She wouldn’t stop just because she no longer had direct control over Annette’s body. She nonetheless had control over our lives.

My home echoed with the heavy steps of my boots as I entered and paced the length of one room, then another and then another.  All around me were remnants of Annette’s stay here.  Her fragrance.  Her gloves.  The plate of fruit she’d left untouched at breakfast.

The depth of love I felt for her weighed on me and the thought of her in Kristine’s hands made it all the more unbearable.

I stopped before the mirror in the corridor and examined my face.  Though I knew the scars had faded, all I could see looking back at me was a face covered with unsightly scars.  The physical markings may have left, but the depth of each scar remained.  As handsome as I could appear to the world now, inside I was still the monster Kristine had always wanted me to become; to remain for all eternity.

Staring into my bloodshot eyes, I shouted out my anguish and heard my voice come back to me on a deafening echo of my empty home.  Unable to endure anymore, I watched the looking glass shatter and fall to the floor and was surprised to then see my fist bloodied from the blow to the reminder of what I truly was.

*****

Annette

I stared at the door for a solid two minutes, unable to move, unable to think and just barely able to breathe. What had just happened?  One moment Eric was here, gentle, romantic and passionate, and the next he was a veritable monster, complete with sneer and a slamming door.

Kristine’s voice still echoed in my head and I knew that she was bringing out in Eric a side of him I’d never wanted to see.  A side I’d denied and flatly refused to accept.  Maman had warned me not to be so trusting, not to be so naïve and innocent.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I curled up on the sofa and wept for the innocence that was being torn so heartlessly away from me.  I longed for the security and warmth of home and Maman’s arms. I wanted to go back to a time and place where there weren’t so many men, so many questions and so much confusion.

Through the haze of tears and sniffles, I heard a light knock at my door.  Unable to face anyone, I buried my face in a cushion, muffling my cries.  The door creaked open.

“Annette.”

The alarm in Aaron’s voice brought me out of the cushions.

“What’s wrong?  What’s going on?”

I sat up, reluctant to face him.  For all his kindness and patience, I really didn’t want to talk this out with him.

His fingers were quick to wipe the tears away, but I continued to sniffle and weep.  Though I tried to get a grip on my emotions, the fatigue, stress and confusion was now overwhelming and I couldn’t stop crying.

Proud and pragmatic, Aaron could never understand what I was going through.  Surely he would just brush my feelings aside.

“Tell me what’s going on, Annette.  What has you so frightened? So shaken up?   I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I heard the voice again.” I blurted it out, hoping he’d believe me.

“The what?”

“The voice.The haunting.”

“The Phantom?”

He knew. He understood. Relieved, I leaned into him and suddenly felt sure he’d be able to do something to rectify the situation.  It was his opera house. Surely there was something he could do to do away with the Phantom.

“Annette, is what I’ve heard true?”

What had he heard, exactly?  I looked at him, unsure what to say.

“I overheard a few girls out in the hall speaking of you.  That you were possessed.  And now you’re talking foolishness about some phantom.”

Foolishness?  I pulled away to look at him.  “But, you’ve heard of everything that happened here while I was gone.  The chandelier.  The mirror.  The voice.”

“Annette, if rumor gets out that you were possessed… Your reputation is at stake here.”

While I silently cursed Judy for being too quick to tell anyone, I was nonetheless relieved to see this side of Aaron. I needed to know the real man under the façade.

“Aaron, this isn’t a joke. Haven’t you noticed a change in me lately?”

He smiled, a smile usually reserved for children who came around looking for autographs and photos. “Then tell me, where is this Phantom?” Standing, he looked around and spread his arms out about him, a condescending smirk on his lips.

“It doesn’t work that way.”

His chuckle was annoying and belittling.  He was ridiculing the great hardship I’d been through and wasn’t showing an ounce of understanding or sympathy.

“Annette.” He returned to my side and took my hand as he resumed his seat. “I know this has been a stressful time for you.  This is a whole new world that has opened up to you, and for such an innocent, it can be overwhelming.”

I nodded, but couldn’t bring myself to look up at him.

“What with rehearsals, shows and the endless stream of people all wanting a piece of you, it’s understandable you’ll be exhausted and perhaps even a little….” He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish his sentence.

“A little what?  Delusional? Crazy?”

“I’ve managed to make arrangements for that trip to Paris, and I think it would do you a world of good. The change of pace will replenish your energy and a change of scenery is always good for the soul.”

I tried to be enthusiastic, but my smile was weak.

“It will be a truly romantic escapade.” He brushed his lips against my temple then tilted my chin up to find my lips.  His kiss was tender, but brief. “You’ll love my family estate, and Paris… ah, you’ll never want to leave.”

He made it seem so wonderful. And getting away from the drama of Kristine and Eric would certainly do me some good. Perhaps he was right. “I have always wanted to see Paris,” I finally conceded.

“And I’ll see if I can’t get you a guest stint at the Paris Opera House. If you think New York fell in love with you, wait until the Parisians hear you.  They’ll make you one of their own and refuse to let you go.”

“Would we see the EiffelTower, and the Louvre and Versailles?”

“Anything and everything you want to see, my love. I…” He took my hand and draped it over his arm and guided me up.  “… will be your personal guide through the enchanted streets of my ancestors.”

He gazed around the dressing room.  “Don’t worry,” he said.  His words seemed intended for someone other than me.  “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you from this Phantom. Or whatever it is that have you so shaken up.”

Chapter 13

The following day I was back in rehearsal.  Judy was quick to spot me across the stage and wink at me.

“Hey,” she said when we had a break.  “I told a few people about… you know.”

“So I’ve noticed.”  I didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry with her for having divulged our secret to so many people so fast.

“Really?” she asked as she passed a small towel through her damp hair.  “How’s that?”

“Well, for starters, people have been looking at me kind of funny this morning.  And, barely an hour after I told you yesterday, word of a rumor was already coming back to me.”

“I hope you’re not too angry.  It’s not as if many people believed me anyways.  If anything I’m the one who is coming off looking a bit crazy.”

“You deserve it.” I teased.  “This was supposed to be between you and me… and Chace.”

“Some even think I’ve got a beef against you.”

“I was beginning to wonder that myself.”

She laughed and nudged me over with her hips.  “I did tell the one person who counts at least.  Chace seemed to take it pretty well.  I think it cleared up a lot of things for him.”

“He believed you?”  It seemed impossible.

“The change in you was dramatic, Annette.  All of a sudden you were cool and aloof with all of us.  You took to speaking French more and more.  And the clothes.  Geez!  Did you see what you went out wearing?  Girl, that was even more uninhibited than what I’m capable of.”

My cheeks were quickly heated and I could just imagine the intense blush that now colored my face.  Just thinking of the skimpy dresses Kristine had me parading in was enough to make me want to hide.

“Thanks, Judy.  I guess I can forgive your loose lips if you’ve at least managed to convince Chace I really wasn’t myself.”

“Speaking of.” She gestured towards Chace who was heading our way.  “Look at that boy smile. He’s really got it bad, Annette.”

I tried to ignore the gentle warning in her statement. Was she afraid I’d hurt Chace?

“I’ll leave you two love birds.” She tapped me on the back and high-fived Chace as she passed him by.

He stopped in front of me and stood there for a moment, unsure what to say.  “I had a little talk with Judy.”  Adorably shy and hesitant, he was as sweet as always.

“I’m glad.”

“Do you have a minute to come have coffee or something?”

I glanced around and tried to catch the eye of the director. When he glanced at me I tapped my wrist and held my hand out three times to indicate I’d be gone for fifteen minutes.  While he didn’t seem happy with the length of the break, he waved me away.

“Let’s go,” I said.  “We have just enough time to go to Pause Café.”

We hurried across the street and Chace wasted no time putting his arm around me in the process.

“I’ve missed holding you,” he whispered in my ear.  He pulled the door open and headed for the counter to order while I found us a table.

The place was abuzz with activity and it took almost five minutes for him to arrive.  He plunked down a coffee in front of me and a hot cocoa for himself before taking a seat across from me and staring me straight in the eye.

“This is wild,” he said.  He reached out to take my hand and his fingers played along mine.  “It explains everything, but it’s wild.  Too wild.”

“I know.  I lived through it and I can barely believe it.”

“It must have been awful. I wish I’d known. I wish I could have helped you. I’m sorry I underestimated you.  I really should have seen it wasn’t you.  The change was far from subtle.  Admittedly I considered the possibility of drugs, but I didn’t really think you were the type to do that.  But if it wasn’t drugs, or stress, then who could have thought you’d be…”

“Possessed,” I finished for him. I smiled and tried to make light of the whole thing.  “Who could have known?”

He fidgeted and sipped his cocoa. I could hear his feet skimming over the floor and realized just how nervous this made him.  It was understandable. Dealing with someone who’d been possessed couldn’t be easy.

“Possessed.” The word hung there for a moment, as though he was letting it completely sink in.  “It sounds so ridiculously unbelievable, yet I saw you.  I saw the extreme change in you.  But… possessed? It’s like something out of a movie.”

His eyes gazed into the distance and he bit his lip in concentration.  “I should have known you’d never hurt me the way you… she… whoever did. It was unbelievable the way you behaved.  When I saw you in Aaron’s arms, your body pressed up to him, your hands all over him and your eyes…”

I reached for his hand.  When he brought his gaze back to me I could still see the confusion.  That wanton image was emblazed on his memory and I wondered if I’d ever be able to erase it.

“You didn’t care about me at all.  In fact, you seemed to enjoy the pain you caused.  You relished my broken heart with a wicked gleam in your eye. I think that’s what hurt the most.  Losing you to another man is difficult, but those things happen sometimes. But seeing the pleasure with which you threw your affair with Aaron in my face.”

“Chace, please.” I knew all this was cathartic for him, but it was driving me crazy hearing about all the antics Kristine had pulled.

“I’ve never been a jealous man. Never possessive or obsessed. I’m not the type to go into a rage over a girl; to fight.” He looked into his cup and that distant gaze returned. “I don’t know what got into me that night when I hit him. I could have killed him. I wanted to kill him. I didn’t even know I was capable of such anger, such violence.”

“It was under very odd circumstances, Chace. Don’t kick yourself over it.”

He nodded, though unconvincingly. “Do you know who it is?”

“Who?”

“This Phantom.This person who needed to take control of your body. Do you know who it is, or what they want?”

I hadn’t been prepared for that and I suddenly felt uncomfortable talking about Kristine. Throughout all this, Eric had been my sole confidante; the only person who could truly understand everything that was happening.

But now that I’d made up my mind not to see Eric again, I knew I’d have to talk it out with someone eventually. And I knew that Chace deserved to know who had hurt him so badly.

“Her name is Kristine.” Simply saying the name aloud brought a shiver to my spine. “She died over a hundred years ago, bitter and vengeful.  She’d been an opera singer in Paris, but her passions and spiteful nature ruined her career then ruined her life.  She was a gypsy and there are apparently some family ties somewhere back there.  I found an old poster of a show she starred in and she looked exactly like me.”

“You're related to this Phantom?”

“Distantly, yes.”

His gaze scrutinized me.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m nothing like her.  She was greedy and selfish. She used people and threw them away at her convenience.  Her body and wanton nature were used to drive men insane and have them doing her will.  No morals, no scruples… I would almost have to say no heart.”

“I can believe that. I thought I was going insane when I saw you with Aaron. I was literally blinded by rage.” His fingers wrapped around mine and squeezed. “I hope you don’t feel responsible for my leaving New York. I do understand you had no power to stop her.”

“What do you mean?  Are you still leaving?  Even after I’ve explained this all to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Chace, I would feel responsible if you left.  You have a bright career here and you're the first chair violinist in one of the biggest shows in New York.  Please don’t go.”

“Being indecisive could also ruin my career.  I’ve already given notice here and they’re already considering me in San Francisco.  To back out now would be unprofessional.”

“I can explain things to the director here, and surely San Francisco would understand if you’ve received a better offer… perhaps an incentive to stay here.”

He grinned and it warmed me to my toes.  “I have to admit I don’t like the idea of leaving you in all of this.  This Phantom isn’t through with you yet.  I want to help you through this.  I want to be here to fight off this Phantom.  No doubt I would recognize her if she were to return to you.”

“She won’t. I won’t let her.” I set my empty coffee cup on the table and sat back.

“Why did she possess you?  What does she really want?”  He took my cue and finished his cocoa before standing.

“I don’t know that yet.”  If I knew, it would make things so much easier. I would know which move to make to protect myself and to keep her from winning.  I pulled my coat on and we walked out into the cold.

At the curb, Chace stopped and stared up at the Met across the street. “You know, whatever she wants, it’s tied into this place.  She haunted this house, she ruined the stage and insisted on having you as the lead singer. All the strange things that have happened have been in there.  Her unresolved issues are there.  Perhaps it would be best if you leave for a while.  Get away from the Met.”

“I feel safer already.” I squeezed his hand, turning to him and beaming a confident smile.  “I’m so happy you're staying.”

He returned the squeeze of my hand and gave me a warm kiss on the forehead.

“I don’t know what I would have done without our weekly excursions around town.”  Feeling happier than I had in days, I practically skipped across the street while Chace laughed as he kept up with me.

Reaching the other curb, he pulled me into his arms. “Is that all I’m good for? An excursion guide?”

“That and teasing me to death, and buying me ice cream and pretzels… oh and coffee.” I laughed and was rewarded with his killer grin that had my stomach turning somersaults.  “And this, too.” I leaned into him and planted a warm, wet kiss on his smiling lips.  A deep chuckle resonated from deep within him and within seconds the sweet kiss was aflame with passion.

Awareness of our surroundings finally filtered through and I pulled away.  “There’s something about you, Chace,” I said in a voice that was throatier than I’d expected.  “Something that makes me feel safe; home. I don’t have to be the opera diva with you and I can forget all the seriousness of playing that part.  I love how easy it is to just laugh and have fun with you.”

“I’m hoping you’ll come to love a whole lot more.”

“I don’t know where we’re going, Chace, and I don’t want to make any promises.  But I do so enjoy being with you, and who knows where that will lead us.  I’m only eighteen and I barely know myself.  I’m not ready for something too serious and marriage isn’t even on the horizon yet.”

“I know and I understand. Don’t worry, I’m not preparing to propose and put any pressure on you.  But one thing’s for sure. I do want to be around when the notion of marriage does make its way over the horizon.”

“You're so unbearably sweet. No matter what happens, I hope we’ll always be friends.”

He laughed and pulled me into his arms, but I could see that simply being friends was far from his thoughts. “Judy said you cried after you learned I was leaving,” he mumbled into my hair.

I cursed Judy for laying it on too thick.  Of course I was distraught, but crying?

“I’m going to hold onto that thought and know how it truly reflects the feelings you have in your heart for me, even if you're not ready to make any major moves just yet. And I want you to know, my affection for you has nothing to do with your diva status.  It’s you I want, not the opera singer on stage.  I know that all of this is a part of who you are, but it’s this girl…” He grabbed my hand and swung it back and forth playfully as he led me to the door of the Met.  “… this simple girl who likes ice cream and walks in the park that I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Chapter 14

I was smiling, elated, and I felt a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders as I entered the Met. My relief at Chace’s understanding was more heartfelt than I’d expected. I’d underestimated my fear of losing him as a friend and now understood the importance of keeping a connection with him.

Opening the door to my dressing room, I still had thoughts of ice cream and walks in the park and already longed to see Chace again; already longed for that sense of childhood pranks and silly giggles.

As I gathered a few of my personal effects, music sheets set on the small side table caught my eye. A sense of déjà vu enveloped me as I picked up the sheets and scanned the notes. Just as when I’d first arrived at the Met, I was mesmerized by the flow of music across the pages. My curiosity to sing out what appeared to be a marvelous melody drove me to the music room where I’d first met Eric. Memories of that day filled me and a strange longing to see Eric whispered at my consciousness.

The room still held his scent; his essence.  The piano, where his fingers had lovingly played out the melody of so many songs as he’d coached and coaxed me. I pulled out the small piano bench and passed my hand over the smooth and worn wood. Then sat down.

My breathing accelerated as I set out the sheets of music and glimpsed some of the lyrics.  They gripped me and I knew singing them would be difficult if not impossible. With trepidation and longing, my fingers slowly tapped out the haunting melody.

The pain of a hundred years

Loved not by the woman who bore

The small boy doomed to tears

Scarred and feared through days of yore

Light touched the heart

Of a beast so loathsome

The beauty and purity to tear apart

Every shred lest thy come

The heart that aches

For the loss of all joy

Unfair as life’s turns take

Betrayed by the age old ploy

Will death sooth the pain

Can the heart once so shattered

Learn to beat again

Or does it matter

My fingers froze and my throat constricted with heartache. “I hurt, too, Eric,” I muttered into the stillness. I felt his pain and it mingled too profoundly with mine. “A century of yearning for your beauty and love has brought naught…”  No longer capable of singing, I spoke the lyrics before by eyes blurred too heavily with tears.

A chill of damp air trickle up my back and rested at the nape of my neck. I knew he was there. Torn between longing for his touch and a desperate desire to run, I held my breath and waited.  The chill increased and his scent wafted to my nostrils.

A flash of memory.A flash of his flesh.  My heart immediately returned to the moments spent wrapped in his arms. I sensed his lips on my skin and longed for his warmth to rid the chill that consumed me.

My fingers ran lovingly over the notes on the page as I stood. “This melody is haunting and heartbreaking.”

“Heartbroken,” he corrected.

My heart tightened. I reached for the sheets and brought them to my chest, as though to protect me from the pain I was to turn and face.

His eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “I wrote that for you.” He gazed at the floor. “No doubt you realized that.”

Though I knew touching him would reawaken all the emotions I’d wanted to extinguish, my hand had a will of its own and reached for his cheek.  “This song is absolutely beautiful.”

“As are you.” His voice was strong, yet tinged with fragility. “I love you beyond reason.”

The strength he pushed into his voice faltered and he choked.  With a clatter that far outweighed the sheets they were written on, the music fell from my hand. I stepped closer, anticipating the outreach of his arms; wanting so desperately for him to pull me closer still.

He remained motionless. “My love for you has only brought you pain.”

I leaned into him, needing his support and his strength.  My lips brushed along his cheek and warmed his ear.  I knew the pain I’d recently suffered was nothing compared to the slow death I now sensed.

“Annette.” The whisper was filled with longing and denial.

“Eric.” Despite every weakened limb, my voice was strong in its determination to keep him from saying what he was about to say.  I didn’t want to hear it. I couldn’t bear it.

“I must go in search of who I truly am.”

“Eric,” I pleaded.

“I owe you at least that.”  He pressed his lips over my eyes.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him tight as I rested my cheek against his chest.  His heart pounded in my ear and I knew it was breaking as surely as mine was.  The salt of too many tears clung to his shirt while my own pain slid down my cheeks and merged with his.

“It was silly of me to ask you that.  I don’t care. I don’t want to know. All that matters is that you're here. That we’re together.” I reached up to kiss his neck and up his cheek.

“I have to leave.” Defeated and determined, he stood still. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”

“Eric,” I muttered through the kisses that attempted to engage him.

“Please don’t look for me.”

“This isn’t fair.”

He cupped my cheeks and held my gaze.  “If our love was meant to be, if all the love and pain we’ve shared was for a purpose, destiny will bring me back to you.”

His lips covered mine and the power of his embrace crushed me to his chest. I didn’t want to let go. The pain of losing him left me dizzy and barely able to stand. His support was vital; his consoling never enough.

I lured his tongue to meet with mine and savored every moment as though clinging to my last breath. He pressed his fingers through my hair, gripping me tighter and enveloping me in the passion of his every move.

Only when I felt the wall at my back did I realize he’d pushed up against the damp brick and mortar. With his strained breathing filling the cavernous room, he lifted my hands above my head, pinning me to the wall as his lips waged an assault over my skin.  My cheeks, my neck, my collarbone and down to the valley between my breasts, now moistened with the glow of passion.

“Make love to me, Eric.” Before you go.  Before you leave me shattered and unable to love so deeply.

His breathing faltered and I knew his passion was as heightened as mine. Tears had given way to the heated glimmer of perspiration. When his tongue dipped between my breasts, I thought he’d released his resolve. I wanted his love, in the physical and in the depths of me.

But just as quickly as his tongue had swiped at the sweat of my chest, he pulled away, leaving me cold and too hungry.

He cupped my chin with one strong hand. “I love you, Annette.”

One last moment, his gaze held mine and I crumpled to the floor the instant he released me.

Without turning back, he walked out, each step stamping out the determination of his decision.

Amidst the sheets of such tormented music that littered the floor, my sobs echoed in the void, begging him to return.

Chapter 15

December 29, 2010

Dear Diary,

It’s difficult to put into words the depth of pain and sorrow I feel. My heart has been emptied and I feel I have nothing left. I don’t know how long I remained on that floor, sobbing and hoping, but I rose stiff and chilled and barely able to make my way up to the Met.

The night has been an unending dream of his return, of his love and of his passion, making this morning’s first wake all the more impossible.  Opening my eyes to the music sheets I’d brought home with me didn’t help matters.

The lyrics danced off the sheets, taunting me with the thoughts that had plagued Eric for so long. My only solace was in knowing that his pain was as profound as mine.

He’d once written an opera for Kristine.  The opera I’d sung these past months revolved around the pain and passion of that union.

Could this new opera be a sign of the end of that relationship, once and for all?  Was he truly prepared to put Kristine behind him and look at the possibility of a future with me?

Hopeless dreams, I know.  But my heart needs to cling to that hope. The hope that his destiny will indeed bring him back to me.

I must set aside my pain for now. Aaron is soon to arrive. With our trip to Paris all set, I can’t help but wonder at the purpose of this trip.  Paris, where all this tragedy and treachery started.  Did I really want to immerse myself in this further?

But…Paris. What young woman didn’t dream of a sojourn in the romance and history of such an exquisite city?

I took one final look in the mirror.  The puffiness beneath my eyes was barely evident and the redness was gone. The sad tug of my lips came and went. When Aaron’s knock sounded at the door, I forced the corners of my mouth up.  It looked convincing enough.

I opened the door to Aaron’s confident smile and playful wink, beneath a very French beret. “Ready to be swept off your feet, ma demoiselle?”  He pulled the beret off and plopped it onto my head.

“Maurice Chevalier, you are not,” I said with a laugh. “But I like your attempt all the same.”

*****

Paris greeted us with a chill, but nothing could temper the excitement of this vibrant city.  People still crowded the EiffelTower and the Louvre was a lush journey through culture and the arts.  Aaron was the perfect tour guide, knowledgeable and thorough.  No doubt we saw everything Paris had to offer and then some.

Simply being immersed in such splendor was enough to make me dizzy. While Paris had so much to see and do, just strolling through the streets, drinking in the architecture and becoming part of the crowd was enough to fill me with an exuberant joie de vivre.

As we sat at a small bistro, many young women passed by, eyeing Aaron with interest, and gazing at me with open curiosity. Many smiled as they attempted to catch his attention.  One brazen woman even dropped her lipstick by our table and made an elaborate show of picking it up.

Aaron’s gaze never wandered.

He poured some wine into my quickly emptying glass, his focus completely on me. Flattered by his concentrated gaze, I blushed.

Was he truly oblivious to the interested gazes of so many young and startlingly beautiful women or was he simply ignoring them for my sake.

“I’m beginning to feel like I’m with a French celebrity. Is your presence in Paris always so noted?”

“The Aragon name is well known in Paris,” he stated flatly.  “As is the Aragon profile.  There seems to be an undeniable physical trait that gives the Aragon men away. I believe it’s the chin.” He grinned and winked, causing a woman at another table to sigh.

“If I were the jealous type, this meal could turn out quite differently. Many American women wouldn’t sit through such blatant flirting.”

He smiled, though I suspected he would have appreciated a touch of jealousy.

“Only a confident and self-assured woman can deal with the constant onslaught of young hungry women competing for the attention of an Aragon.”

Our day spent in Paris was a blur of activity that had us eager to find our beds that night. With the view of l’Arc de Triomphe in the distance, I fell asleep in a room adjacent to Aaron’s.

He was full of life and vigor as he greeted me the next morning with croissants and coffee. The sight of the croissant immediately had me thinking back to my time spent with Kristine.

“Coffee would be good,” I said simply.

Paris brought Aaron to life in a way I’d never seen in New York.  It was difficult to tell if it was the return to his home or simply leaving the pressures of his work behind that affected him so.  His smile was boyish and the gleam in his eye forever playful.

But it was as we left the lights of the city and drove through the narrow country lanes that Aaron really came to life in a more profound and touching way.  I could see the emotions and reverie in his eyes.  This was his home.  The further behind Paris became, the brighter his eyes shone.

“You must miss it,” I said as I took in the beauty of the countryside that passed us by. Everything seemed magical and special.  My eyes couldn’t completely take in all the beauty that sped by.

The little convertible sports car Aaron drove swept through the winding roads as though he’d never left home.  Everything seemed familiar to him and he continually pointed out one notable building after another. His smile was contagious and I felt giddy and caught up in his nostalgia.  Only half an hour out of Paris and I could feel the intoxicating effects of this country.

The lightly scented air was sweet and every breath felt like a gift.

“I guess I hadn’t really realized just how much I’d missed all this until we hit this old road.  Isn’t it unfortunate how we often tend to take for granted such things, only to miss them when they’re gone?”  He stopped at the gate of a grand estate.  As he’d done throughout our visit of Paris, he leaned over to set the kiss of a true gentleman on my cheek.

I wanted to question the diminished passion he’d shown me since we’d arrived.  What had happened to the intense ardor he’s displayed while Kristine had been in power? Had he forgotten about all the heat she’d ignited?  Or was the rumor of my possession sinking in?  He was a smart man; a man who knew the ways of worldly women. With the contrast of my demure and chaste sensuality and Kristine’s overt and explosive sexuality, it was almost obvious that something odd had happened to me.

“We’re home.”  He beamed with pride.

A small glimpse of the chateau in the distance took my breath away.

“Prepare to be treated like a princess.”

Chapter 16

The home seemed to stretch out as far as I could see. Pristine and white, with several turrets, I could not even fathom growing up in such a home.  The property was larger than the entire neighborhood I’d spent my childhood in.  Fountains, flowers and neatly trimmed shrubs hemmed the home in.

“Feeling nervous?” Aaron asked. He opened my door and helped me out, his eyes directed at the ruby cross that hung on the delicate chain around my neck.

I’d not even realized I was fingering it, but as I stepped out of the car, I found my fingers reluctant to release it.

Aaron took my hand and led me down the walkway that led around the house.

“Don’t fret.  My family will love you.  Maman is a sweet woman with a warm heart, while my uncle Jean Paul is a dry jokester.  He’s my father’s youngest brother and has been living here ever since my father passed away.  Keeps Maman company and helps immensely with the tending of the grounds.”

My sudden case of nerves had nothing to do with his family. A chill had swept over me the moment we’d crossed the gates, and the cool wind had only increased as we’d approached the expansive home.

“Annette,” Aaron said, his voice suddenly filled with concern. He stopped and turned to me, his hands keeping a firm grip of mine. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.” I forced a smile and tried to sound convincing.

“You're deathly pale.” He brought the back of his hand to my forehead.  “It’s cold enough to snow yet you're burning up.”

“I’m sorry. I guess meeting your family does have me a little more unnerved than I’d expected. It’s not every day a girl from the bayou waltzes into a French chateau. What’s the protocol? What etiquette? How do I call your maman? Do I look alright?”

In his reassuring and professional way, Aaron smiled and chuckled lightly. “Maman is not the queen and you can simply call her Francoise.  And you look absolutely delightful.”  He gave my hand a playful shake up. “Worry not, my love.”

Francoise and Jean Paul were in the midst of lunch, but Francoise quickly set aside her plate and greeted me with all the charm and warmth her frail little body allowed.

“Aaron,” she said. “Quelle surprise. I thought you’d only be here tomorrow.”

“Bonjour, maman.”  Aaron was suddenly a boy again as he hugged and kissed his mother.  The moment was touching and I was surprised to see this side of him. Gone was the strong businessman who made quick decisions and controlled millions in deals. He was simply his mother’s boy, happy to be home.

“You both must be eager for a good meal. I’ll have Marguerite bring out additional plates.”

After a brief but hearty lunch spiced with amusing stories of Aaron’s youth, Aaron excused us from the table and we returned to the car to retrieve our bags. With a grand sweep of his arm, he opened the majestic front door and we entered his house.

“I’ll show you to your rooms.”

I followed him upstairs, but when he stopped to set his bags down in the hall I continued and turned to take the hall that led to the east wing. The air was lightly scented with spices, bringing about a sense of comfort and familiarity. Drawn to the third door to the right, I put my hand to the doorknob and turned.

Aaron’s hand was soon over mine, keeping me from opening the door. “You certainly know your way around.”

His comment shook me out of my internal reverie of the home I’d never visited before. I gazed at my hand on the doorknob and wondered why I’d chosen this door. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I looked more closely at the corridor behind me. Though the colors were different as were a few paintings and side tables, the walls, the doors, the light entering the hall through the stairwell all brought vivid memories.

I knew the door beside mine held a grand suite that was reserved for important guests.  At the end of the hall, two doors beyond mine was a small boudoir that had always been decorated in sun yellow.  It overlooked a particularly colorful area of the flower garden and was always a delight to sit in.

Aaron pushed the door open and I wasn’t surprised to see the delicate periwinkle blue of the romantic room.  Filled with antiques and fine paintings, the room carried the aura of centuries past.

Who’d slept here before? What dramas had transpired here?

“This is beautiful,” I managed to say. “I’ve never seen such fine antiques.”

“Virtually everything is as it has always been.  This estate has been a part of our family for centuries.”

My steps led me to the window and I knew before I arrived what I’d see. The beauty of the French countryside was at my fingertips.

“I’ll give you a few moments to settle in then I’ll bring you on the grand tour.”

Alone in the room, I released the tension that had been building to the point of nearly exploding.  Confused by the familiarity I felt to my surroundings, I anxiously awaited Aaron’s return.

After hastily shoving my clothes into the drawers and hanging a few things in the closet, I sat on the edge of the bed and fidgeted.  It didn’t feel right being here. I couldn’t point my finger on the crux of the problem, but there was something. I thought of Kristine then just as quickly shoved all thoughts of her aside.

“Ready to go.” Aaron poked his head in and grinned.

I let his excitement fill me and followed him out to the riding path.

“Your uncle is quite a character,” I said as I strolled slowly by Aaron’s side. “Has he always been so funny?”

“Always had me cracking up as a boy, though my father never found him so amusing.”

“Did you really go off to school wearing one of your mother’s chemises?” I giggled at the image.

“He also has a way of embellishing,” Aaron said through a tight laugh. “I never actually made it to school with Maman’s chemise.  Fortunately my nanny caught my fashion faux pas and stopped me.”

My laughter was heartfelt and girlish, but I didn’t mind. It was too amusing seeing this side of him.

“And your mother is unbelievably charming.  So elegant.”

“She is loved by all who meet her.  And she was clearly delighted by you.”  Though I was pleased to hear I’d made a good impression, I felt a cold hand of wind push at my back.

“It’s beautiful out here Aaron. Why ever did you leave this marvelous corner of the world?”

The further behind we left the house, the more profound the chill became. As we entered what remained of the small forest, a blast of cold blew up my coat and left me feeling nude in the winter wind.

I hugged myself and Aaron was quick to pull me into the crook of his arm. “This fresh country air isn’t like the stifling air of New York.”

Smiling, I simply allowed his arms to warm me.

“Are you enjoying your visit?”

“It’s all so much to take in. Everything is so beautiful and so touched with history.  Walking here is like going through a history book.”

He pulled away and stooped down to pick up a small smooth stone. “This home has seen an awful lot of joy and tragedies over the years.  Jean Paul loved to tell me about his father and grandfather. Hopefully I’ll one day have a son to relay all these stories to.”

At a fork in the road, I took to the left.  Aaron glanced strangely at me, but said nothing.  Playing with his stone, he threw it from one hand to the other. In peaceful silence, we walked on until we reached a sharp incline that brought us to a windswept cliff top.  Over the tops of the bare trees we could make out the elaborate home in the distance.

“Bringing back any memories?” Aaron asked.

Taken aback, I looked at him and tried not to gape. “You're the one with the fond memories, remember?”

“And what do you remember?”

“Aaron, I’ve never been here before. I’ve never even been to France. I have no memories of this place. None of this is familiar.”

“Really?” His eyes definitely read of skepticism.

“Really.” My voice came out a little more defensive and argumentative than I’d intended.

“You knew which room to go to.”

I shrugged, refusing to accept where he was driving this conversation.

“You automatically turned to the left at the fork back there.”

“Left.Right. I had to choose one,” I said with pragmatic logic.  “I could just as well have taken the right.”

“But you took to the left. And the left led us to this very spot.”

I gave him a quizzical look that was quickly becoming irritated. “What’s special about this spot?”

“What does Kristine say about it?”

I gasped and my hand went to the ruby cross as I swayed on my feet. Thoroughly confused and afraid to find out more, I turned to look at Aaron. Where was this line of questioning leading us?  “What did you say?”

“Kristine no doubt remembers this particular portion of the riding path.”

“But…”

“Hasn’t she told you that this is where Rupert was to be killed?”

“Aaron…”  Baffled, I couldn’t say more.

“Did she not share with you the plot she’d so meticulously put into play?”

“What are you saying?”

“Kristine did take over you, did she not?”

“I thought…”

“Of course I believed you’d been possessed.  I’m not blind, Annette.”  His smile was warm and reassuring. “I’d come to know you quite well the weeks prior. You were demure, naïve, at times reserved. While I knew you had a depth of sensuality lying beneath this shy façade, the wildcat that exploded into your dressing room could never be you.”

“You knew?”

“I suspected.”

A chill shook me. “I don’t enjoy being here,” I said, pointing to the ground. “Could we move on?”

He nodded and led me to an outcrop of rocks where we could sit and enjoy the view that went on for miles.

“I found Rupert’s journals a while back and have been spending many evenings reading through them. His mention of Kristine is intense and frequent. His love for her is mentioned in virtually every entry. She drew something out of him and he felt powerless to fight it.  Some of his entries were filled with the love and passion he had for her. The visions of the future he foresaw.  He wanted to give her the world and was prepared to do virtually anything to make her happy. But increasingly his entries were tortured and pained.”

Stunned, I just stared out towards his home. Fearing what more he had to say, I daren’t question him.

“His torment came in the form of the Phantom whom Kristine spent so much time with. Hideously disfigured, he appeared only under concealment of a mask. It was evident Rupert was jealous of the relationship between Kristine and this Phantom.”

He looked at me, but I kept my gaze on the horizon, unable to face him.

“The Phantom had a name.”

My heart skipped.

“Eric.”

I feigned ignorance.

“Eric’s love of the opera is well known. Not so well known was his love of Kristine.”

He knew everything. He knew more than everything.

“What I’ve not been able to comprehend, and believe me, I’ve tried to figure this out, is why Kristine chose to possess you.  What is it that she was trying to accomplish by going to New York? And why had she been hanging around the Met?” He turned to me and tipped my chin with his fingers to bring my gaze to his.  “What is your part in all this, Annette?”

My eyelids were suddenly heavy with denial. I didn’t want to discuss it and didn’t want to dig any deeper into this sorted story. “I look like her,” I finally whispered.

Aaron nodded thoughtfully. “I should have known. Rupert did describe her as unbelievably beautiful. He even tried sketching her but claimed to be incapable of capturing the fragile, yet intoxicating beauty.”

I cast my eyes down and added, “And I’m related to her.”

“The plot thickens.”

Glancing at him I saw all the questions, intrigue and accusations in his eyes.

“And Eric, of course,” he said. “Rupert did succeed in sketching him quite well. Though the man in the sketch was partially obscured by a mask, the portion that was visible held an odd resemblance to the man I’ve seen at your side on more than one occasion.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“Isn’t it odd that the vocal coach who put so much importance into perfecting your voice is a virtual look-alike to the greatest admirer of opera in all of Paris?”

“It is odd.”

“In addition to your relation to Kristine and the resemblance of your Eric to Kristine’s Eric, I’m sure you're aware of the similarity between Rupert and I.”

“I don’t really know what Rupert looked like, but I can easily imagine.”

“Yes. So why would it be that the three people involved in a dark and murderous love triangle over a hundred years ago would reunite, as it were?”

“I can’t fathom.”

“And to what purpose? What must we relive or re-enact?  What business has been left incomplete?”

“Kristine seems to be the instigator.”

Aaron’s chuckle was dry and eerie, a sound I’d never heard before.  “She would be.”

“I don’t understand what she wants with all this.”

“She duped Rupert and tried to have Eric kill him.”

“Yes.”

“Though she led Rupert to believe she loved him, all along her true love was reserved for Eric.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Is history repeating itself, Annette?”

“I don’t know what’s happening, Aaron.”

“You're sweet and innocent, but you're not stupid.  You know very well the comparison I’m making.” The underlying darkness of his tone was growing with every statement, every accusation.

I tried to turn away, but his finger gripped my chin, refusing to allow my gaze to escape his scrutiny.

“Are you and Eric more than coach and student?  Is this relationship you have with him simply platonic or do you love him as Kristine once did?”

My lips fought to form any kind of argument. I couldn’t admit the love I had for Eric, for a man who didn’t even belong in this century. But I knew my eyes couldn’t entirely conceal the truth.

“Do you love him, Annette?”

“Aaron.”

I instantly saw in his eyes his realization of the truth. “What are you doing here with me?”

“Everything is so confusing.”

He bit down on the pain and I could see the effort it took him to contain his anger. “Everything is so confusing?  I’ll say. You come to my country, my home, and I introduce you to my family… my family! All the while you're in love with some hundred year old Phantom.”

“Aaron, you're making this sound so…”

“Sorted?”

“Don’t make me the villain, please.”

“I’m not the one who held you in my arms while my heart belonged to another.” Bitterness took over.

“Aaron, you’ve confused me from the beginning. You were my boss. I didn’t know what to do. You had me going out with you every night.”

“Are you implying that I coerced you into this relationship with me?”

“No, I…”

“Did I also coerce you into coming to Paris as well?”

“My feelings for you grew,” I argued.

“How delightful to hear.”

“You have no right.” My anger slowly grew to match his. “You’re not innocent in all this. Yes, you pushed me to go out with you, and yes I was intimidated. I’d just arrived in the city, I’d just left my parents’ home and I’d just begun a new career. You swept in out of nowhere and used your practiced and worldly ways to…”

“To what?” He stared at me, his nostrils flaring and his jaw grinding. “To what? To seduce you?”

“You showed me the life of high society and introduced me to important people; people who can do so much for my career. And led me through throngs of fans and paparazzi, always there for me to lean on, always protecting me. It didn’t take long for me to come to rely on you, Aaron. To long for your strength and your knowledge. Your expertise.”

Aaron turned away and took to the riding path.

“Don’t you see, Aaron? I met Eric. I met you. I got the role of Adelle. I had pressure from all around me. Eric wanted me to sing perfectly. You wanted me to meet important players. I’m just a girl from Louisiana. It’s the first time I’ve lived away from my parents, been on my own. I’ve never dated anyone seriously before. You, Eric…showered me with such love and care…I couldn’t help caring back. Both of you believe in me so much. How can I not love you back? Everything came so quickly. I didn’t want or expect all this attention. And you expect me to know exactly what I should do and who I should love?”

He turned suddenly, cupped my cheeks and kissed me, breathlessly and urgently. His lips covered mine and I felt his need to draw an emotion from me; any emotion. My mouth was reluctant to respond, but when his tongue swept in skillfully among the best of the French kissers, and his lips teased and played with my lips, when his arms wrapped around me and pulled my body tightly against the length of his, I succumbed. I moaned in spite of myself, kissing him back, pulling his him closer to me. I knew he was a good man…he wanted the best for me. As much as I cared for Eric, Eric had left me…gone from my life, leaving me with only his music.

When he pulled away, his face was flushed with passion and relief. He smiled, though tentatively. His eyes remained on mine and his hands seemed reluctant to release their hold of me.

A strong wind pushed through the forest and brought a fresh wave of cold air. The rattling of the branches above us increased, crackling and creaking with the threat of breaking over our heads. I suddenly felt so small. My first experiences at love were all such miserable failures. It seemed no matter what I did, no matter who I was with, pain became the center of the relationship.

Unperturbed by the swaying tree limbs, Aaron pulled out a small velvet covered box from his jacket pocket.  “This is for you.”

He held it out, urging me to take it. “Please, open it.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for the box, dreading the contents. If I’d been confused up to this point, whatever lay in the box would surely add to the enigma my life had become.

I snapped the lid back and gasped. I knew little of jewelry and lesser still about gems, but the stone that stared at me was larger than I would have ever thought possible.

“It’s a yellow diamond, very rare. It once belonged to my great, great grandmother.”

Surrounding the huge stone were smaller pink diamonds. The ring was exquisite in every way and my hand shook from simply holding an item of such value.

“Aaron, I can’t…”

“You’ve no idea the depth of my affection for you.”

“This is a treasured heirloom. The diamond is huge.”

“Over fifteen karats.”

“There’s no way I can possibly…”

“I didn’t bring you here just for a fanciful visit to the countryside.  I didn’t introduce you to my mother simply as the new star to the most successful opera New York has ever seen.”

“Aaron.” I was stunned and wanted to beg him to stop speaking. Inhaling became increasingly difficult as I saw where he was leading. This was too much. It was all impossible to take in.

“Maman liked you very much. She told me such as I escorted her inside. Never has she liked a woman I’ve brought home. Never.” He pulled the ring out of the box and took a tender hold of my left hand. “She warned me not to let you slip away,” he whispered.

Despite the cool breeze that continued to carry the scents of fresh air and endless horizons, I felt suffocated and choked by the intense heat.

“My true purpose in bringing you here was to ask you to marry me.”

The breeze ceased and the air hushed. The very forest surrounding us was holding its breath and it seemed the earth was being taken away from beneath my feet.

I gulped down the ball of air that caught in my throat and my eyes widened, though with horror or surprise, I couldn’t be sure. The thought of marriage was preposterous. Not only was I far too young to even consider such a thing, but my relationship with Aaron had not had the proper time to grow and flourish as it should. My emotions were still scattered about.

“I know it’s sudden and you’ll need some time to contemplate…”

“We’ve only known each other…”

“I know, my darling. And I have no intention of rushing you. But I desperately wanted you to know just how much I love you. I wanted you to know how deeply I care for you.  I’d give you my world. You could lead the life of a true princess in your own chateau and it would be my life’s work to keep you happy.”

“I still don’t know how I feel about you. About all of this.”

“Kristine came in and confused everything for you. Her bitter love for Eric was used to turn your heart upside down. Don’t you see? What you feel for Eric is truly the remnants of her own attraction. Eric is little more than a ghost. He has no place in this space and time. He belongs in the past, in a relationship that is dead and over.”

Tears suddenly filled my eyes at the sound of Eric’s name. Hearing him referred to as a ghost was horrendous, but I knew Aaron was partially right.

“The present is here and now, Annette. With me. I am a real man with blood pounding from my heart and a love for you that has not ceased to grow.” He slipped the ring on my finger. “I’d give my life to protect you from Kristine and the torturous games she enjoys playing.”

He pulled me into his arms, and I could feel the weight of his emotions. Deep in my heart I knew he was a good man and I knew he would indeed do everything he could to keep me from harm.

But love?

Though he held me tightly and brushed warm kisses on my temple, there remained a cool tension in his arms. The passion he showed for me was restrained and held in check in a way that left me uneasy.

And the sudden proposal.

What was he expecting an eighteen year old girl to do?

Chapter 17

Returning to the great mansion left me in a somber mood. While Aaron smiled and seemed content with the outcome of our stroll, I felt more perplexed than ever. Why couldn’t he have allowed me a few days of peace and tranquility before throwing such a huge decision my way?

“Aaron,” Francoise greeted as we approached the terrace. She nodded at me.  “Annette, I do hope you enjoyed your visit of the grounds.” Before I could say anything she turned to Aaron.  “You’ve only been here a few hours and you already have a visitor.”

A frown came to his forehead and he instantly showed his displeasure. “No one knows I’m here.”

“Well, word apparently got out. He’s waiting for you in the parlor. Jean Paul is keeping him company.”

I had trouble keeping up with Aaron’s long and determined strides as he held a firm grip on my hand and headed inside the house. His footsteps echoed and resonated in the hall, each step becoming angrier. By the time he reached the parlor, his face was red and his fist tight.

Jean Paul had a polite smile on his crinkled face while he sat watching the visitor. Tea and treats had been served and the visitor seemed quite at ease as he sipped from the fine china cup. The delicate clink of cup hitting saucer as he set his cup down was incongruous with the massive size of the man, his hands and his fingers. His broad shoulders hunched over as he perused the yellowed pages of an old book sitting on his lap.

The moment I saw the tousle of dark curls I knew. Though turned away, I saw the strength of that chin I’d come to know so well. I thought I would never see him again. My heart immediately jumped out to him and it was all I could do to keep from running to him. He was incredibly handsome in a fine suit and his face cleanly shaven.

How had he known I was here? How had he found me?

I was elated to see him again.

Oblivious to the heavy footsteps that had announced our arrival, the visitor remained intent on the pages of that book.

“Aaron,” Jean Paul said as we entered.  “Look who we have visiting us today.”

Eric turned to us with a smile in his dark eyes, while Aaron visibly blanched then quickly turned crimson. His eyes took on a murderous gloom and his breathing was all we could hear for those first few seconds.

When Eric turned his charismatic yet guarded smile to me, I felt the tension mount in Aaron’s hold of me. His hatred for Eric was palpable, though Jean Paul seemed oblivious and continued to smile happily.

“What,” Aaron let out through gritted teeth, “are you doing here?”

Eric’s smile didn’t falter.

“Aaron.” Jean Paul rose on shaky limbs and came to Aaron’s side. “We’ve just been going over the family tree and Eric here appears to be a long lost member of the Aragon family.”

“That’s impossible,” Aaron let out.

Jean Paul chuckled. “My boy, as you grow older, you come to accept that few things in life are impossible. It’s not really that uncommon for family relatives to come out of nowhere. Aragon men didn’t always show the restraint they should.” He nudged Aaron with his elbow, but Aaron was far from amused.

“What are you trying to prove?” Aaron spat at Eric.

“Eric even brought a seal, showing his consanguinity to our family. This is indeed a long-lost cousin of yours, Aaron.”

Eric set the book down and rose to his impressive and imposing height. The breadth of his shoulders made the room seem suddenly small, while the charm in his smile battled with Aaron’s cool stance.

“Liar.”  Aaron stood his ground and looked straight into Eric’s eyes.

“My relation is to Rupert’s mother, Veronique,” Eric said. He eyed me intently, though his emotions were nearly impossible to read. His gaze held a blend of pleasure and surprise at seeing me. When his eyes dipped down to my hand still clasped in Aaron’s, he showed only a hint of a frown and quickly resumed his grin.

“Veronique became involved with a man, Martin, and had an illegitimate boy a few years before she married Philippe, Rupert’s father.”

Aaron let out an indignant huff. “If I understand you correctly, Veronique was not an Aragon. How can you claim to have our blood running through your veins? You are just the bastard son of…”

“Of Philippe’s cousin,” Jean Paul said. “Martin Aragon.”

“Raising him herself was apparently out of the question, so she simply left him stranded at the steps of the Paris Opera House. Allowed to run around and play, the Opera House became his home.  Although various stage people there took care of him, he was left to fend for himself.

“His love of the opera grew as did his knowledge of every corner of that old House. The intense love of music would become his life and he would go on to compose some of the most unforgettable music of the century. Though his music was revered and loved by all, few could tolerate to see the face of the great composer.”

“No,” Aaron let out in disbelief.

“Before long Parisians took to calling him the Phantom.”

“No!”  Aaron released my hand and for a moment I thought he would reach out to choke Eric. “That’s impossible.”

Eric turned cool eyes to Aaron’s hostile glare. “The man they called the Phantom of the Opera was really Rupert’s half-brother.”

Fascinated by the increasing complexities of Eric’s life, I watched him as he took in Aaron’s shock.

Kristine had tried to convince Eric to kill Rupert. Perhaps this family connection was what had kept him from going through with it. It was perhaps what also drove Kristine so raving mad; after all, Eric was an Aragon as well.

“What do you make of this, Jean Paul? Is this some ruse to try to get at the Aragon fortune?” He glared at Eric.

“As far as I can tell, this man is indeed an Aragon,” Jean Paul said as he reached up to set a reassuring pat on Eric’s shoulder.

Eric’s brow cocked in defiance, waiting for Aaron to argue further. When Aaron turned to stare out the window, Eric gazed sidelong at me a brief moment, a moment filled with questions and speculation.

He’d told me he was seeking his heritage.  Never could I have imagined it would lead him here. What must he be thinking to see me in Aaron’s home?

“I’d like to have my lawyers go through all this more thoroughly,” Aaron said.

“But I’ve already given them a good once over,” Jean Paul said in a voice shaken with age, but firm in its belief. “I do remember what our family seal looks like and the documents are all in order.”

In a heated moment that left the room silent, Aaron turned and swept his arm across the coffee table, sending tea cups and saucers to the floor.

“Aaron, stop.” Rushing to him, I pressed my hand to his heaving chest, willing him to calm himself, willing him to accept Eric.  “Please, let’s simply talk this through.”

My hand was yanked off Aaron’s chest and held in a vice grip. I turned to Eric; turned to see why his first real acknowledgment of my presence was so violent.

His eyes were on the ring on my finger. His lips tried to form words while his eyes continued to stare as though looking for an explanation.

Aaron turned angry eyes to stare at Eric, while his voice reverberated in the room.  “Surprised, brother?”

Chapter 18

Disbelief clouded Eric’s eyes as his gaze remained on the ring. A wealth of pain and anguish lay bare, and I felt an overwhelming need to protect him.

“This ring,” he muttered.

Aaron tore my hand free of Eric’s hold leaving me feeling like a marionette. Control over my strings was being fought over without my consent or approval.

“Recognize this ring?” Aaron coldly asked.

“Rupert’s ring.”

“What?” I gasped.

“Did it adorn Kristine’s finger as beautifully as it does Annette’s?”

Eric’s brow glistened with perspiration. His heart was out and vulnerable as the betrayal of a century ago slapped him in the face once more. What must he be thinking to see me with a ring Kristine had once worn?

“Aaron,” I said. “Had I known… I wouldn’t…”

“Tell me Eric, did Kristine have the decency to take off this Aragon heirloom as she rolled in your bed? Or did these gems sparkle along with the lust in her eyes?”

I didn’t want to hear anymore. “Please, Aaron…”

“Did you enjoy taking a woman who was betrothed to another? One would have to assume this is all you’re capable of; taking what is not yours.” Aaron was livid. I’ve never seen him like this before. “You seduced Kristine away from Rupert, ruined their lives. Are you back to do the same with Annette and I?” He stepped forward. “Because of you, Annette nearly lost her life!”

Eric’s gaze met mine, filled with questions. When the pain faded, accusations took their place.

“I didn’t tell him,” I started. “He already knew…”

“Yes, Eric.” Aaron pushed me back, as though the visual connection between Eric and me was too much for him to bear. “I know all about Rupert. I’ve poured over enough of his journals to know all about the lovely, yet deceitful Kristine. I’ve read about this famed Phantom and I know of the pain Rupert lived through… this Phantom who is now claiming to be an Aragon… this Eric.”

Aaron’s eyes glittered as he held back from saying more. While his lips remained parted, I could see the battle being waged as he guarded his words. “You,” he finally said. “What are you, and what do you want with Annette?”

Jean Paul entered with Francoise on his arm. I’d not even noticed Jean Paul’s departure, but his entrance seemed to cool Aaron’s temper.

“I see you boys are becoming acquainted,” Francoise said. Her chipper tone could have led one to believe she was oblivious to the quarrel, but a knowing gleam in her eye indicated just how wise this frail-looking woman truly was.

Aaron backed away.

“Isn’t it wonderful to have found an Aragon we knew nothing about?” Francoise approached Eric and reached out for a hug.

Eric’s massive bulk made Aaron’s mother look all the more fragile.

“And from New York as well,” she went on. “After such a long journey, I do hope you’ll stay for early supper.”

Charm and warmth instantly took over Eric, while his lips betrayed just a hint of a victorious grin. “I do believe that would be delightful. It’s been a long time since I’ve dined with such elegant company.”

Aaron turned to protest, but Eric had already hooked his mother’s arm though his and led her out.

“I’ve made an exception and have asked Marguerite to bring the supper in the breakfast room. It’s small and intimate giving us a chance to get better acquainted.”

A tiny smile came to my lips as I witnessed the quick adoration this woman bestowed on Eric. He was an instant family member and she treated him as such.

“It’s also the best place to view my spectacular garden. I do have a green thumb, if I do say so myself. Of course Benoit helps immensely, especially where the roses are concerned, but I do my bit when I can.”

The late afternoon sun invaded the breakfast room and warmed it with its natural glow. Though Francoise had claimed it to be smaller than the dining room, it was nonetheless a large and lavish room.

“Of course the winter does diminish its glory somewhat.” Francoise sat on the chair Eric had so gallantly pulled back. Even from a distance I could see the flush of color on the old woman’s cheeks.

“It’s a splendor to see.” Eric took the seat beside her and regarded the garden with interest. “You’ve no doubt had a hand in it.”

This woman of elegance, fine upbringing and class giggled like a schoolgirl. It was charming to see how at ease Eric was and how quickly he connected with his distant aunt.

“Oh,” she said, patting his large hand with her crooked fingers. “You certainly are an Aragon. You could charm a thorn off a rose, couldn’t you?”

It was Eric’s turn to blush.

My heart leapt. He was adorable and watching him reminded me of everything I’d fallen in love with. I longed to have his hand over mine.

“There was a time when peacocks roamed the grounds,” Francoise said.

“Oh, Maman. That was ages ago,” Aaron said.

“What a wondrous day to have such pleasant guests in our home. This holiday season has been rather quiet and it’s nice to have extended family in my big, empty house.”

“I told you I was sorry for not coming for Christmas, Maman,” Aaron said, patting her hand. “The opera in New York takes every moment of my time and I couldn’t possibly…”

“It wasn’t an accusation, Aaron. I’m simply pleased you could make it for New Year’s. I fully understand your busy schedule.”

“The opera is quite a noble reason to miss family gatherings,” Eric injected. It was difficult to assess whether he was sincere or ridiculing Aaron’s excuse. “I’ve long had a love of this most beautiful of all the music forms.”

“Another thing you share with the Aragon men.” Francoise said with a wink. “You know my husband, Aaron’s father, worked for a number of years at the New York Opera House. Prior to our marriage, he established a small art school that went on to produce quite a number of impressive singers.”

“And is your husband still in New York?” Eric ventured.

“My father passed and talking about it is still painful,” Aaron said, looking at his mother.

Marguerite entered and set hot bowls of onion soup before us. Melted cheese covered the crusty bread that bathed with the onions in broth that tasted delicately of wine. All the flavors blended together in a heavenly way that kept everyone at the table silent a few moments as they warmed themselves with the tasty soup.

“Are you the only residents here?” Eric asked, glancing at Jean Paul then resting his eyes on Francoise.

“Yes. Since all the children have grown, I only have Jean Paul to keep me company.” Having eaten only half her soup, Francoise pushed her bowl aside and glanced at Eric. “Of course he is a dear and I appreciate him more than he’ll ever know.

“I know.” Jean Paul said with an adoring grin.

The tender smiles that traveled over the table between the two told of the affection they had for one another.

“It would be so lovely to have a full house again.” She turned her eyes to Aaron. “Perhaps one day I’ll know the pleasure of having grandchildren running around these immense halls.”

Aaron glanced at the ring on my finger and smiled. “I’m working on that, Maman.”

“This estate has been cursed with a series of tragedies, death and accidents. Fresh smiling faces would do wonders to brighten the place.”

Aaron’s muttering response to his mother was cut off when Marguerite arrived with the supper.

The light but exquisite meal continued with a combination of pleasant conversation and questionable glares, but Aaron managed to control his simmering temper.

“This is by far the best meal I’ve had in a very long time.” Eric set his napkin in his empty plate.

“And I’ll make sure you also have the most comfortable room you’ve ever slept in.”

“I do appreciate your offer,” Eric began. “But I can make arrangements.

“Nonsense.” Francoise insisted. “My butler is waiting for you in the front hall. He’ll show you to your room and help you with any bags you might have.”

Eric’s boyish smile returned and was aimed at Aaron as he stood and left the room.

“Aaron,” Francoise said. “I believe Jean Paul has a new mare he’d like you to take a look at. She’s a fine specimen.”

Ready to argue, Aaron looked at his mother steadily before he pushed his chair back and followed Jean Paul out.

After a dramatic pause, Francoise patted the corners of her lips with her linen napkin then gazed at me. “I’ve asked to have some herbal tea brought to the sitting room.” She stood, clearly expecting me to do the same. With an air of authority and confidence, she led me down the hall to two French doors. “Doesn’t that smell divine?”

The moment she pushed the door open, the aromatic scent greeted us, soothing and welcoming.

“Epice du Bengale,” she said. “Cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger; all heavenly brewed together in one little cup.”

The Louis XVI chairs that adorned the room were as regal and elegant as their owner. There was something gay and bright about the room that was calming. Several paintings adorned the walls. Degas’ Femme nue, de dos, se coiffant, Manet’s Lecture and Morisot’s Le berceau; all decidedly feminine, delicate and soft. Renoir’s Fillette avec un panier de fleur drew me to the painting.

“What a beautiful little girl.”  Red ribbons in her blond hair, she had huge eyes that I couldn’t look away from. Such innocence, yet there was something sad in the little girl’s eyes.

“Yes, it’s always been my favorite.”

I tore myself away from the painting, but took a chair that faced it.

The tea tasted as wonderful as it smelled and before long, we settled into a cozy conversation about the opera, Paris and finally, men. “Falling in love can be quite confusing at your age.”

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, I turned to the far wall and glanced at the tapestries.  Pleasant sceneries of ladies picnicking and playing Renaissance instruments, they were beautiful works of art that brought more femininity to the room. Keeping my eyes focused on the mandolin in one tapestry, I was nonetheless aware of her gaze on my finger.

“I see Aaron didn’t waste any time.” After a prolonged silence, she went on. “I did find it curious when he asked about the ring. I’d actually given up thinking he’d ever meet anyone who could meet his ridiculously high standards.”

I turned my attention to my tea cup and took a small sip.  “It was quite sudden.”

“When he sets his mind to something, he rarely fails. I’ve no doubt he’s quite smitten with you.”

“We’ve spent a lot of time together since I’ve joined the cast of the opera.”

“Beautiful and modest. That’s quite rare for the star of such a largely successful show.  You have a naïve charm about you that is irresistible.”

“Thank you.” Heat spread over my cheeks.

“And I wonder if Aaron is aware that others were also unable to resist your charm.”

I coughed through a sip of tea that lodged in my throat. “I beg your pardon.”

Francoise grinned, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’m old, my dear, but I’m not blind. This Eric… it’s quite obvious the effect you have on him. It’s also obvious the effect this is having on Aaron.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re an exquisite girl with a lovely disposition.  And while I’d be more than pleased to have you for a daughter-in-law, I don’t believe that’s what you really want.” Her eyes dipped down to the ring again. “You’ve certainly brought out something in him that no other woman has ever managed. All this opera business has always kept him so serious. He rarely allows himself the time to truly enjoy his success. But I saw the merriment in his eyes the moment he arrived with you on his arm. He spoke of you with a light in his eye and it was evident how much you mean to him.”

“I’m very fond of him as well.”

“Fond, yes, but love?”

I stared blankly at her. My emotions – guilt, love, passion, fear – combined to leave me suddenly numb. Despite the tea, I wanted to shiver from the chill that took over me.  Francoise reached out and took my hands in hers, her cool fingers adding to my discomfort.

“I certainly don’t want you to hurt my son…”

“I…”

“But I would be loath to see you falsely give your hand to a man you obviously don’t love.”

“But I do love…”

“You may love Aaron,” she persisted. “But you’re not in love with him. The Aragon name has been through enough without a new scandal developing.  When Rupert fell in love with the wrong girl, he had to ultimately leave Paris.”

At the mention of Rupert, my eyes returned to the little girl in the Renoir for a brief moment.

“It must have been dreadful and I wouldn’t want that for my Aaron,” Francoise added.

“I have no intention of…”

“Your intentions may be pure, my dear. You're young, beautiful and naïve. Men are quite capable of bringing scandal to their name on their own; Rupert wasn’t the only Aragon man to bring shame to the name. And I’ve no doubt Aaron would pursue this relationship regardless of your true feelings. It’s up to you to put an end to this before it goes any further.”

I looked down at our clasped hands. Her fingers had warmed over my heated skin and it was I who now held her. “Aaron has always been so good to me. I do love him, Madame Aragon.”

“But you cannot overlook your love of Eric.”

I hesitated as I tried to find the true emotions I felt for him. “I am attracted to him, but it could be because of everything… the history…”  I stopped suddenly. The thought of bringing up Kristine didn’t feel right. But the thought of her impact on my feelings for Eric did leave me wondering what truly drew me to Eric.

Was I just carrying remnants of the love Kristine had for him? Having never been in love before I had no point of comparison. My feelings for Eric could merely be an infatuation. Something that was fleeting and adolescent.

And what of the animosity Kristine created between Eric and Aaron? Even the sweet disposition of Chace had become violent with Kristine’s presence. In such a short amount of time she’d turned the three men in my life against one another.

Having witnessed Aaron and Eric during supper, I wondered if they had the capacity to bring their hatred for one another to the level Eric and Rupert had had.

But those tumultuous days with Kristine had also brought about some qualities as well.  Eric’s loyalty came through and he became so loving and protective. It had taken me the trip to New Orleans to realize how much he cared. It wasn’t Kristine he loved.

And Aaron had shown his noble side when Kristine had tried to drag him into a sorted affair. Despite the wanton way Kristine had thrown me at him, he hadn’t taken advantage of the situation.

The image of Chace’s boyish grin came to mind and I smiled. The way he’d forgiven me for the pain Kristine had caused him was proof of his true nature. It was a wonder he’d remained so kind and generous after his encounter with Aaron, but he’d come out of it even more caring and giving.

“I’m not sure what I feel anymore,” I finally said.

“My dear, before you do anything, make sure you truly know where your feelings lie.  Getting out now might hurt Aaron’s feelings, but he’ll get over it. He’s a big boy and he’ll surely see the wisdom of your actions. If you wait until after you're wed, the consequences of your mixed emotions could be unpleasant… to say the least.”

“I understand.”

“Of course if you should realize that Aaron is the man you want, I’ll be more than happy, but take the time to discover what attracts you to either man.”

A long and relieved sigh escaped me as I pulled my hands away. I quickly glanced at her to see if she’d noticed how relieved I truly felt.

“Knowing you're doing the right thing lightens the conscience,” she said knowingly.

With a tug that lifted the karats off my fingers as well as lifting a ton of responsibility from my heart, I pulled the extravagant ring off my finger and held it out to Francoise. “I think it is best I give it to you rather than Aaron. I’m not sure how he would react were I to…”

“I understand perfectly.” Her fingers wrapped around the jewel.

“This isn’t a rejection of Aaron’s proposal.  I’m just not ready.  I’m still too young and this is such a huge decision.”

“Despite your youth, you're a very wise young lady. While I know of the adoration Aaron holds for you and I know this will come as a blow, we’re all adults. Affairs of the heart don’t always work out like we want them to and when we want them to. Should you one day realize that Aaron is indeed the man you want to spend the rest of your life with, then you can move forward and consider the possibilities of a great future together. Of course your timing may not be in keeping with Aaron’s. You must remember that.”

Though I knew she was right, I felt a sob work its way up my throat.

“I appreciate your tears for my son, my dear. It’s quite evident that you are a loving and caring young woman who wishes to hurt no one.  You can’t be faulted for being confused. He’s quite a charmer.”

I gazed at her through bleary eyes.

“Eric,” she said matter-of-factly. A mischievous smile crept up to her dry lips. “He even had an old woman like me falling under his spell.”

The mention of his name sent a shock of electricity through me. Would he ever cease to affect me so? Knowing he was upstairs was unsettling and I suddenly felt jittery and nervous.

“Madame Aragon.” I swiped my hand across my tear-streaked cheeks and tried to put on a smile. “I was hoping to take this time in France to find out more about my family.”

“Oh?”

“My mother grew up in an orphanage in Paris. I’d like to go see it. Perhaps wander the streets that had been home to her.”

With the efficiency of a worldly business woman, Francoise led me to her spacious office and helped me locate the orphanage.

“I’ll have Stephan drive you wherever you feel the need to go.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

She was being so incredibly generous.  In the short time I’d been with her I felt a kinship to her that was undeniable. “You’re truly a remarkable woman, Madame Aragon.”

“It’s important you find answers, Annette. I think your quest for who you are will be enlightening and you’ll then be able to come to a decision. Though I may not like that decision, I will respect it.”

As we strode through the hall that led to the front door, I gazed at the stairs that led up to Eric’s bedroom.

“Don’t worry about the boys,” Francoise said. “I’ll keep them busy. I think it could do them some good to get to know one another.  After all, they have so much in common.”

Chapter 19

Coming upon the orphanage, I was struck with a series of intense emotions for being in the very place my mother had spent her childhood. Sadness filled me as I walked into the bleak building where no child should have to grow up. The stories she’d told me about her time here came quickly to my mind.  How she’d learned to sew with her best friend Roberta. How cold the winters could be. The old boots with holes in them – when they had boots.

Guilt for what I’d had added to the sadness. Thinking back to my easy and carefree childhood, I appreciated all the more what my mother had been able to give me. Despite coming from a place of hardship, she knew how to give me everything a little girl needed.

It was difficult controlling the tears that continually tried to work their way to my eyes. But when it came time to persuading the office clerk to give me access to my mother’s records, the tears flowed freely and were instrumental in convincing her of my need to learn about my mother’s past.

The records gave little details and there wasn’t enough for me to tie the lines between Kristine and myself.  I stared at the old yellowed pages in disbelief.  Maman had been left here by Therese Forcier. Stapled to the page was a police report.  Her grandfather Omer Forcier was well known by the police, often getting into trouble with the law for minor offenses.

I had Stephan drive me to l’Hotel de Ville where I was able to find that Omer had been born in Vincennes.  Minutes later I was walking up the steps of an old and crumbling church.

Every step told me I was getting closer to the answers I wanted.  When I put my hand to the door an unexpected scent suddenly came to my nostrils. I stopped, the odor was so violent.

Logic told me it was simply the musty scent of age. Old stones, moldy wood, damp tapestries. But fear, much as I had sensed my first days at the Met, left me standing at the threshold, frozen in place.

“You’ve come all this way,” I muttered.  “Might as well get what you came for.” As I pulled the door back, the stale air almost overwhelmed me.  The church doors must have been tightly closed for years to keep captive such a pungent odor. The rush of a breeze behind me left me just enough air to breathe.

I gripped the cross at my neck and stepped inside.

“Can I help you?”

Startled, I turned to the unexpected voice of a young woman.  Startled further by the pale face and wide catatonic eyes, I took a step back.  “I…” Shaking my head I tried to gather my thoughts. The sight of her rattled me. “I was hoping to find the baptism records of Omer Forcier.”

“We haven’t done baptisms here in almost a hundred years.”

“That’s perfect,” I said. “This would have been around the turn of the century.”

“Forcier, vous dites?”

“Oui.” I felt a glimmer of hope.

With a somber nod she led me down the narrow aisle towards the altar and turned to the left to a dim passageway.  Remnants of old stained glass windows lit the hall with intermittent bursts of bright colors. The odor that had greeted me intensified.

“What remains of the archives we have is in here,” she said as she pushed back a door.  The small room had a narrow counter on one side with floor to ceiling shelves on the other.  Filled with old record books and a few Bibles the shelves strained under the weight of so many books.

I entered the small room and before I could turn to thank her, she’d disappeared.  Shrugging off the strange chill she left me with, I scanned the shelf for the Fs.

My heart raced as I set the book on the narrow counter and flipped through the pages.

Forcier.  There were over a dozen entries.

Omer Forcier.

There he was.  Fils de Pierre et Marie-Anne Forcier.

Now what? One more generation and I should find Kristine.

While I was able to find the parents of Pierre Forcier, I couldn’t find the tie to Kristine.  Discouraged, tired and dizzy from the stagnant air I left the small room.

“Find what you were looking for?”

Again the young woman startled me enough to have me leaping.  “No,” I said.  “Well, yes… and no.  I was hoping to trace my family tree a little further back, but I’ve hit a wall.”

Shadowed in the corner she stood watching me.

All I could make out was a dim gleam in her eyes and her hands gripping the skirt of her long dress.  While I’d originally thought it a robe, I could now see it was a dress from another era.

“Who in particular are you looking for?”  Her voice was dead and cold.

A strong desire to run suddenly came over me, but I swallowed it down.

“The archives only have births and deaths,” she went on.  “In the basement are books, notes and clippings about many of the residents of Vincennes.”

“Oh.” Intrigued yet unwilling to follow her to a basement, I stared and waited.

“I think you’ll find what you’re looking for.”  Her hand reached out of the darkness and pressed against the door beside her.  Heavy and reluctant to open, the door creaked and groaned, but the bony hand persisted.

My eyes remained on the white hand and the black hole beyond.  Every hair on my body stood on alert and my breath came out in thick visible clouds.

“Pay particular attention to clippings about Narcisse et Herminie de Saintonges. I think you’ll find them interesting.”

Curiosity killed the cat.  Curiosity killed the cat.  The phrase repeatedly ran through my head. I had to know. I was scared. I’d regret leaving here without having combed through everything. I might regret taking a step down those stairs.  My feet carried me to the threshold before I’d even given the order. Cool air rose to my face and the humidity left my skin damp.

Was I really going to do this?

Three steps in and the gloom gave way to a hint of red light at the bottom. Cobwebs and dust covered books, desks and chairs that had not been used in decades.

How was I supposed to sort all this out and find Narcisse and Herminie?

Blindly and with no direction, I rummaged through the desk, tossing aside a series of useless newspaper articles. Then I hit a bundle of clippings, letters and legal notices made out to the name of Narcisse Forcier.

My meager understanding of written French was going to be put to the test. Everything was in French and much of it was handwritten, but I could make out the meaning of the majority of the documents.

The first I came upon was an engagement notice. It was clipped to a yellowed wedding photo. Narcisse had a proud smile under his thick mustache while Herminie was delicate and shy.

I opened a bundle of letters and latched onto every word I could understand. Herminie had elegant penmanship and wrote with a pleasant flourish. Love was mentioned repeatedly and words referring to loneliness were prominent.  It appeared Narcisse worked out of town and only saw Herminie occasionally. She worked for a wealthy family and they often treated her shabbily, adding to her loneliness.

Then there was the mention of a pregnancy. Sorrow, regret and pain all surrounded the announcement. Money was short and a new mouth to feed only exacerbated the situation.

With an urgent desire to know more, I scanned page after page, looking for hints and clues to who these people were.

Finally I came upon the birth of the baby – a girl.

A girl!

My breath stayed in my lungs as I quickly scanned the rest of the page.  The birth of her daughter had brought Herminie to consider leaving her position at the manor and returning to her home.

Another page. Two days after the birth, Narcisse was in prison for having fatally struck Mathurin Aragon in a brawl.  Herminie was distraught and life at the wealthy manor had become unbearable.

My eyes returned to the name. Aragon.  Did that family affect everyone in and around Paris?  Why was it so prevalent in the life of Kristine?  But even as I questioned this, I felt I’d seen the name on other pages. With my concentration focused on Narcisse and Herminie, I’d passed over it without pause.

I turned another page. Found guilty of murder, Narcisse was to be hung.

Grimacing, I thought of Herminie’s heartache.  A young bride. A young mother.  An intolerable employer. Little money… and now to resign herself to the notion of soon becoming a young widow.

Another page.

There it was!

Preceded with words such as love, beauty, sweet and delight came the word I’d been searching – Kristine. This was indeed her life I held in my hands.

Herminie loved her daughter and spent every moment with her. The child was a delight and brought a ray of sunshine to the most dreary of days.  Tiny bright blond curls, an easy smile and a disposition that charmed everyone who met her.

However, little Kristine would never meet her father.

Before her first birthday Narcisse was hung.  He was only twenty-three.

I was overwhelmed with a sudden sadness.  What a dreadful way to start a life.

My sympathy for the little girl Kristine had been turned to confusion with the next letter.

The letters that had up until now had been addressed to Narcisse were now addressed to Mathurin.

My God. I choked and felt sick.

Filled with love, passion and a clear sense of victory, Herminie spoke only of the future she dreamed of having with Mathurin. If Kristine was mentioned at all, it was as an afterthought. The little girl now seemed to be a burden on Herminie.

The pages flew through my hands with increased speed, desperate to find what had happened to the little girl. Then the letters stopped.

An article mentioning Kristine’s arrival on the Paris stage was tied to another bundle of pages. I was missing the bulk of her childhood.

Feeling like I’d never understand the mystery of Kristine, I pulled the string and released the bundle of clippings. Photos, praise, accolades and prizes. She was the darling of the opera scene and was adored by all.

So beautiful, all men craved her.  A delight to befriend, she was well-liked by the women of high society. Her youth drew out their protective instincts, while her wisdom and talent drew their respect and admiration.

Then a full page article showed a picture of the young starlet looking less than happy, and the headline explained why.

Kristine, fille d’un meurtrier.

The article spelled out everything.

The mystery of the opera’s latest star is finally revealed.  Kristine has not spent the past seven years in a boarding school as she’s claimed.  She has been living on the outskirts of Paris with her mother Herminie.

The widower who was once a young maid to the Aragon manor had claimed to have raised Kristine alone after the execution of her husband, Narcisse Forcier, but it appears a step-father has had a hand in raising the bubbly little girl.

Mathurin, thought to have died at the hands of Narcisse has been secretly living with Herminie all the time.  The police have been called to the residence several times to calm quarrels between Herminie and Mathurin, but of late it has been Kristine who has caused some uproar.

Having learned of the circumstances surrounding her father’s execution, Kristine has repeatedly tried to kill the man Narcisse was accused of murdering.

The article was clipped to a number of smaller articles in which Kristine fervently denied the accusations. And though she was ultimately found innocent, her career took a stumble. It would take years before she could regain the public’s love and trust.

I set the page down and stared into the gloom. From all sides, Kristine had so many reasons to hate the Aragons.

Chapter 20

I walked out the back entrance of the church and stepped through the low gate into the cemetery.  A thin layer of snow covered the ground in patches.  Weeds sprouted out around the majority of gravestones.  The day was growing old and a damp chill clung to the ground.  Large trees shaded the last glimmers of the sun, leaving portions of the cemetery in premature darkness.  I pulled my coat tightly around me and sought out Kristine’s stone.

The cemetery was relatively small and finding Kristine should have been easy.  But many of the gravestones were faded or stained. Barely legible, the engravings had worn down with time. To a large extent, they all resembled one another.

I turned around, my eyes quickly passing over the nearby headstones then skimming over the rows that went on and on. Suddenly the small cemetery didn’t seem so small. The wind brought a new chill. Perhaps I should return the following morning. My eyes couldn’t focus, whether due to the dimming light or from fatigue it was hard to tell. Or was it the thought of searching through a cemetery at dusk that had me bleary-eyed?

Shaking it off, I scrunched down to try to read the stone in front of me. I pushed aside the weeds which only exposed more faded engravings.

A short faint sound had me bolting to my feet. Several birds fluttered around, but that didn’t explain the odd sound; like metal hitting stone.  As though in answer to my questions, the sound came again.

Stepping towards the next row, I noticed movement several rows ahead.  At the far end of the cemetery I could make out the shadow of a man. Knelt before a stone, his head was low, though he appeared not in prayer. Respectfully and quietly I approached.

“I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you.”

The man’s voice was deep and clear… and familiar.

“It’s time we move on.  You must move on.  I know I now need to start a new life.”

“Eric?”

He rose and turned to me. His fingers fidgeted around the stem of a pretty yellow rose a moment before his lips curved into a timid smile. He set the rose on the tombstone. “I had a feeling you might come here.”

My heart tried to understand what he was doing there.  Why would he want to see Kristine?  I glanced at the stone. Though somewhat faded, her name could be clearly read. A new shiver took over me, bringing a wave of nausea with it. Being here, at her burial place… it was surreal.

Only when I felt a piercing pain on my fingers did I realize how tightly I was gripping my ruby cross.

“What are you doing here?” The pain strained my voice.

His smile was instantly reassuring and warm. “I believe they call it closure.”  He reached for the oversized men’s ring atop the gravestone.  “It was time I gave this back.” The strange ancient ring was engraved with the image of a monkey.

I couldn’t resist cocking a brow at the strange image.

“She gave me this two weeks before I was to murder Rupert.  Now that I think about it, it had never felt right on my finger.”

“You’ve kept it all this time?” For some reason his need to remain attached to Kristine lay in that ring.

“I guess I felt a bit insecure when I first decided to leave Paris. This was a link to my home.” He set it back on the stone.

“A link to her.”

His gaze met mine with frank candor. “I was young and my heart was confused. I hadn’t realized until I met you just how much I’d been holding onto the past.” He reached out to lightly squeeze my arm, then stepped back to allow me a moment with Kristine.

Feeling the strange aura that surrounded us, I reached for his hand. “Don’t go too far.”

“I’ll be right here.”

I turned to the stone and put one hand to Kristine’s name and the other to the cross at my neck.  Though I had no idea why, I glanced back at the church. The young woman who’d guided me to my past was standing on the back steps.  She held my gaze a moment before hanging her head and clasping her hands before her.

Remembering Joana’s advice, I said the Lord’s Prayer.

“Amen.” I remained knelt, waiting to feel something.  Would the chill leave my skin?  Would a warm glow indicate she’d moved on?

Nothing.

“Ready to go?” Eric said.

I nodded and leaned into him as he guided me to the car.

The girl at the steps was gone, but the cool wind remained.

“You mind giving me a ride? My taxi appears to have abandoned me.”

“Of course.”

The moment we pulled up in front of the manor, Eric headed towards the back. “I’m too agitated to go up to bed.  Care to join me?”

I followed him into the garden.  Barely aglow with the faint light of the emerging moon, it was still magnificent.

“I’d never noticed that ring on your finger before,” I said.  We’d been silent throughout the ride home, each considering our farewell to Kristine. But now questions and doubts bubbled to the surface.

“Not long after I met you I decided to leave it in my coat pocket. Sounds strange, but it didn’t seem right to wear it while I was with you.”

I stopped and turned to face him. “Did you ever wonder if that isn’t what connected her to you?”

The cock of his brow told me he hadn’t.

“Isn’t it odd the effect a ring can have on one?”  He gripped my hand and brought it up to his eyes.  I wanted to laugh at the curious frown that suddenly changed the accusation in his eyes to confusion as he took in my bare finger.  “Where’s…?”

I bit back my smile.

“Aren’t you…?”

Shaking my head, I wrapped my fingers around his warm hand. It felt so good touching him. “Eric,” I whispered.

He brought my fingers to his lips, turned my hand to kiss my palm while pulling me closer.  “Tell me you aren’t in love with him.”

“The ring was on my finger before I could respond to him.” My lips brushed against the back of his hand as I muttered useless explanations. “I’ve not given him an answer yet.”

“Tell me you’ll not marry him.”

I brought his fingers to my cheek and pressed his palm to my skin.  My eyes heavy with emotion, I leaned into the strength of his hand.  “I love you, Eric.”

But even as the words were spoken, I questioned Eric’s immortality. What would become of us?

“Kristine is behind us now and we can look toward a future together.”

Was she truly?

“After the run of this opera, I’ll write another. New music meant for you, only you, Annette.” His lips nibbled mine, gingerly and hesitantly.

While my passion quickly rose to meet his and my lips took his with hunger and urgency, questions clung to the corners of my mind.

Epilogue

Aaron

Jean Paul’s new mare had barely been able to sustain my interest. Though I listened to the old man’s ramblings about the lineage of the fine horse, my mind was on Annette.

“I need to run a few quick errands, Jean Paul.” I patted the horse’s backside. “Do you think we could continue this when I get back?” I barely gave him a chance to answer and headed to my car out front.

A brief phone call had confirmed the address where Kristine had lived until the day of her death. I tapped the address into my GPS and allowed myself to be guided down the country road. The village seemed to have been left in another era. Most of the dwellings were no longer inhabited and weeds and vines had taken over every garden.

I pulled up in front of the only shack that seemed to have some life to it.

“We don’t get many visitors from the city these days.”

“I’m looking for the home of Kristine Forcier.”

The old woman eyed me with suspicion.

“Please, I’m looking for anything of Kristine’s for a friend, a relative, who is searching to learn more about her family.”

The old woman did not budge an inch. I took out a photo of Annette, and immediately saw a look of recognition and disbelief in her eyes.

“Who is she?” she asked.

“Annette Binoche,” I said. “A relative of Kristine’s.”

The old woman closed the door to her home, leaving me waiting in the biting cold. I stood out there wondering if she was ever coming back. Then as I turned to leave, the door opened again, and the old woman handed me an old leather journal and said, “This was Kristine’s. Annette will find the answers in there.” She handed me a scribbled note. “Her final resting place,” then closed the door again.

I walked back to the car, and sat in the driver’s seat perusing a few of the pages. The old French was scrawled in a script that was at times almost illegible. But I was able to piece together enough to form an opinion. Kristine was indeed a complicated woman, and reading part of her journal made me wanted to know her more. I drove off to find Kristine’s grave.

I arrived at an old church which held a musty odor that was foul and spoke of the ages cramped up inside. But a light fragrance clung to the air.  A fragrance I knew well and had often enjoyed. I wanted to question the presence of that delicate scent, but forged on. Heading through to the cemetery out back, there was more than just a sense of death about the place.

Time had rendered the lives of these old souls forgotten, belonging to a time and place the country had forgotten. Only a small speck of color brightened the otherwise dismal grey landscape. A yellow rose. With sure steps I made my way to the tombstone that had recently been visited. Not only did the rose adorn the faded stone, but so did an old, heavy ring.

Intrigued, I picked it up and scrutinized it. The monkey engraving…I knew instantly it was an Aragon ring. I have seen it before.

I pocketed the ring. Excited, I remembered reading a small passage about a ring in Kristine’s journal. Back in my car, I flipped through the pages and found what I was looking for.

The ring I’d found fit the description of one Kristine had given Eric weeks before Eric was to kill Rupert. What she didn’t explain, however, was how she’d come to have the ring. Had Rupert given it to her?

This ring and this spell shall ensure I have Eric constantly on my horizon. I shall never lose sight of him even after I marry Rupert Aragon. If the price of keeping Eric in my life is to forego my very soul, then so be it. We will be together forever in life and in death.

I knew right then just how important it was to take Annette away from Eric and everything he stood for. He would forever put Annette’s life in danger. What drove Kristine to sell her very soul for Eric? Is Annette doomed to the same fate? Who was Eric really, and why did he had such an effect on Kristine and now Annette? They said his birth was of mysterious circumstances and that his scars were the reflection of the Devil himself…

I need to get Annette away from him!

*****

The Phantom Diaries continues in

Book 3 of The Phantom Diaries

Immortal Darkness

2011

About the Author

Kailin Gow is the bestselling author of over 40 books. As a teenager, she was a voracious reader, who always had one or two books with her at all times. A self-professed nerd, she even thought AP English and AP History was fun. She was on her newspaper staff, participated in drama productions, was on the yearbook staff, played sports, competed in kung fu, played violin, and yes, was even on the pep squad at one point.

Her books include the bestselling Gifted Girls Series, The Frost Series, The Phantom Diaries Series, The Stoker Sisters Series, PULSE Vampire Series, Queen B Superheroine, The Wordwick Games Series, The Alchemists Academy, Harold the Kung Fu Kid, and Shy Girls Social Club. Her books have been recommended by PBS Kids, the PTA, US Mental Health Association, homeschooling organizations, and mother-daughter book clubs.

She is also a filmmaker and radio host. Her short short of The Stoker Sisters recently screened at the prestigious 14th Annual LA Shorts Film Festival, officially accredited by the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences. She has written for and produced television series with Emmy-award-winning producers and directors. As a radio host, she was recognized and featured by The Los Angeles Times as a young Asian American Journalist.

She holds a Master's Degree Communications Management from USC's Annenberg School of Communication, and Bachelors Degrees in Drama and Social Ecology from UC Irvine. Kailin loves reading, writing, watching old and new movies, filming, playing video games, playing board games, traveling, and location scouting for settings in her books and films. In her past life, she was a news journalist, talk show host, tour director, and corporate executive. She is a mother, a mentor for young women, and the founder of the social group for teen and young adult girls called Shy Girls Social Club at http://www.shygirlssocialclub.com where girls can develop positive friendships and skills in the creative field. Members of Shy Girls Social Club can get a chance to win prizes, scholarships, and internships.