Okay, here's the deal. I've already wrote this fic to IMDb, but it got deleted and I was asked to submit it here. I wrote 40 short chapters so I'll send four per one, so that would make then posting times. I was asked to do this so I'll post them all no matter what but reviews are still of course welcome.

About the story, this is a supernatural dark love story that tries to stay faithful to Leroux's spirit. Erik is not a vampire but a kind of sorcerer from H. P. Lovecraft's book. It took me about 4-6 months to write this and I'm rather proud of it. As I said, reviews are welcome.

None of the characters is mine.



Somewhere in Romania, 1877

It was almost midnight and a travelling gypsy camp was settling down. It was a travelling circus, showing freaks and un-normal things to the paying customers. Usually at this time of night the owner of these freaks, a black bearded man named Javert, would have been counting his profits. Unfortunately that night he didn't get the chance to even start his favourite hobby. Before he had even sit down, one of his workers came rushing to him.

"Boss, he's gone crazy! He said that he was going to leave!" worker said to his boss.

Javert didn't even have to ask who he was talking about. Only one of his "invests" would cause this kind of trouble. Without another word Javert went to one of his wagers that had a sign saying "THE LIVING CORPSE". He entered and faced a thin boy, who had been living with them for the past seven years.

"What talk is this that you're leaving, freak?" Javert asked.

Boy had his back on him. "Is there some part in that statement you don't understand, Javert?" answered a voice that one could only describe as heavenly. Javert had got used to it. Also he knew what the source of the voice looked like under the sag he was wearing over his head.

"Don't talk to me like that, boy! Without me you wouldn't have a life! You're my property and you will continue earning money to me! So get that jacket off and start to sleep like everyone else!"

"No" came a short reply.

Suddenly Javert heard him mumbling something that he didn't catch but it most certainly wasn't any language he knew. And then Javert heard something behind him. As he turned around to watch he saw a wolf standing behind him, looking directly to Javert.

"What a-"

"As I said" said an 18 year old boy under the sag "I'm ready to leave, Javert. You are no use to me anymore".

"U-use to you" Javert repeated, still staring at the wolf.

"Yes, use to me. Why do you think I have been staying here for seven years? Allowed peoples to see my face and laugh at me? Because staying with your pathetic little circus I got to see different countries. And in those countries I learned things".

Javert was afraid to even ask: "What things?"

Boy chuckled. "During these seven years, during the time you made money with my help, during the time you beat me and raped me, you never once stopped to think why I allowed it all. You thought I didn't it in me to stand against you. Think again".

Boy passed Javert and the wolf easily. Javert noticed that he was carrying a small bag, probably containing the little he owned. Before walking in the night boy turned around. Javert could now clearly see his yellow eyes staring at him in the darkness.

"Goodbye, Javert. It's time for me to find more knowledge from somewhere else. Thank you for making the past seven years living hell. It makes me easier to do this" he said, his voice full of hatred and bitterness. Then he again mumbled something strange and before Javert had time to scream, the wolf had attacked him and was tearing his throat.

Boy disappeared in the darkness.

Chapter 1 Bad beginning of a new century

Paris January 1900

It had been three weeks from the day when world saw it new century. Although people didn't know it yet this would be a century of many changes. The magnificent Eiffel tower stands as a sign for all changes to become. Cinematograph and automobiles are just few of the wonders world is about to witness. Without anyone knowing it yet, the class barriers, that have reigned for centuries, are about to be destroyed during following decades.

But Debienne, co-manager of the Paris Opera house, is not thinking any of these revolutionary thoughts as he is anxiously waiting for his partner to arrive. He is thinking all the reasons why, instead of being welcoming guests to the auditorium, he is walking nervously in his office.

"This is better be important, Debienne!" his partner, man named Poligny, shouts as he walks in. "I was just greeting baron Jerome as he had come, when someone tells me you have something important to tell me".

Debienne just handed him a letter.

"My dear Managers,

It seems it shall be war between us. For some considerable time now I have been patient with you and waited results to happen. I thought that I had made it very clear that in each performances box 5 was to be left empty for me. I also said that I will not listen in my theatre people's screeching just because they think they are singing. Still, you have sold box 5 and allowed Miss Carlotta Altiere continue her career here. I will not take it any longer. If you will not make last minutes changes you will perform "Faust" in a theatre that has a curse upon it. I'm sorry if it is to be come to that.

Your obedient servant,

The Phantom of the Opera"

"Debienne…" Poligny started, after a moment of silence "You don't seriously believe in this rubbish? Ghosts do not excise. And even if they do, they don't write letters!" Poligny still remembered when they had got the first letter few weeks ago. First they thought of it as a joke but letters just kept coming, all giving orders as how the theatre had to be run.

"But, Poligny, can you explain then how he has been able to deliver those letters to our office without breaking the doors? Or how he knows what happens in this house even before we do?"

"Enough, Debienne, your again being superstition. This is just someone who wants us to become hysterical, nothing more. And even if we would believe this, it would be too late. Listen" Poligny said. Debienne heard overture.

"The opera has already begun".

With that, the two managers left to their box. And opera went quite well.

"Going well, considering we have a curse upon us" Poligny whispered, trying to ease Debienne's state of mind.

At the stage in the role of Marguerite was singing Carlotta Altiere. She was an Italian singer whose career was in a good progress. She had been singing in Paris opera house for almost two years now and was beginning to receive offers from all over Europe.

Now she was singing the garden scene. Everything went quite well actually, if you don't count that little moment when she suddenly made a sound like a toad.

The entire audience as well as crew were terrified. Never before had Carlotta lost her voice. Never before had they heard anyone on that stage, on the stage of Paris opera house, making a sound like that. Carlotta tried to continue but every time she made that sound. It was obvious that she was starting to panic.

Managers at their box were also starting to feel cold sweet on their foreheads as they heard clearly someone laughing behind them. Someone was laughing like a maniac behind them. But when they turned around the voice was quite and they saw no-one.

But then suddenly they heard that same voice again. They recognised it as the same, because it didn't sound anything like human, but more of some creature from beyond. And it wasn't laughing but shouting to the entire auditorium.

"Behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier!"

As the two managers raised their heads the chandelier was already falling.

After that night Debienne and Poligny never again questioned or denied anything that the Phantom of the opera asked from them.

Chapter 2 Wandering child, so lost, so helpless

Paris, November 1906

They say that after death, every good person will enter to Paradise, where he or she will never have anymore worries. A better place, as some call it. Thought that someone good has entered there should make peoples happy. It just is a little harder when that someone happened to be the most important person in your life. Such was the case with Christine Daae.

Christine was a girl of twelve that year. Usually she would have been described as a happy girl, who loved to laugh and sing. That was before September of that year, when she lost her father.

Her father, Charles Daae, had lost his wife in 1899 to pneumonia. After understanding that his native country Sweden was only reminding him about the past, he took his seven years old daughter and moved to Paris, to live with his cousin, Madame Valerious. They had arrived little after the great accident that had happened in the Opera house, and Charles Daae was therefore able to get a position in the orchestra pit as one of the violinists. Charles had always been an outstandingly great, when it had come to play violin. Beside the music the dearest thing to him in his life was his daughter Christine.

It had been now two months since she had buried her father, but it felt like yesterday. Everyday "mama" Valerious said that in time the pain would ease. But how long will it take to ease? Christine didn't want to feel this pain anymore. Two months now she had been living with this pain. She still remembered her last conversation with her father.

Dying Charles was in his bed.

"W-Where is my daughter?" he had finally muttered, after some time being only coughing. Christine had carefully come closer. His father was so paled, totally lost the colour he once had.

"I'm here, papa" she had said, trying not to sob.

"Where are you? I can't see you, Christine" he said, slowly raising his hand. Christine came close enough for him to touch her. He put his cold hand to her face and felt the hot tears.

"Why are you crying, my dear?" he asked softly.

"Be-because you're going to die, papa" she said quietly.

"Oh, my child, don't worry about me. Death is only a natural thing in human life. We both knew that this day would come, didn't we?"

"Yes, but why did it have to come so soon? Papa, please don't leave me!" she cried now openly.

"I will never leave you, Christine. I will always be with you. And I promise this to you, my child, I promise you will never be alone. I shall send an angle to you".

"An-an angel, papa?" she asked.

"Yes, Christine. I shall send Angel of Music to you. He will guide and guard you always…" his voice started to get weaker.

"Oh, papa I don't want an angel, I want you!" girl beside him cried.

"I love you, my child" he said. Very soon after this he started to sleep. He never waked up again. Doctor said it had been without suffering.

Suddenly the very opera house where she had been living for the past six years seemed so strange. When the familiar smiling and loving face if her father wasn't anymore there, everything seemed gold and distant. She had stayed of course, where else would she have gone, especially when she was studying dancing in hope to get to chorus. But she really didn't have any friends. Her childhood sweetheart Raoul was somewhere with his family, God only knows where, and of the girls the only one she had befriended with was ballet mistress Madame Giry's daughter Meg.

She had never felt so lonely in her life. And where was this so-called angel? There was only a ghost. Well, Christine personally didn't believe in the stories of the Phantom of the Opera that the stage manager Joseph Buquet always told to anyone who cared to listen. Christine kind of hoped she would meet this ghost, maybe he could tell if his father had been able to talk to the angel.

Finally Christine had had enough. She run out of the opera house, without any good reason. Well, as far as she was considered she had the best reason; she had no reason to live. She stormed of the building directly to the raining streets of Paris. Though it was only 4 p.m. there was very little light, as the sky was full of raining clouds. She didn't care where she was going, or what would happen to her. She just wanted to get away from that all.

Very soon she was standing in some gutter, without knowing where she exactly was. She hadn't even dressed herself properly to outside, and was now shivering from cold, resting hands on her shoulders. Very soon some beggar would probably come to rape and kill her. She didn't care.

And then she heard someone singing. First she thought she was only imagining it, because she couldn't actually see anyone. Also the voice that sang was so beautiful to be an ordinary voice. Not to mention a male voice also.

Suddenly the voice stopped singing and started to talk to her.

"Christine, why have you run away from opera house?" it asked her.

"W-who is there?" she asked, as she still couldn't see anyone.

"You know who I am" it answered softly.

"I-I do?"

"Didn't your father say he would send me?"

Now Christine's eyes widened as she remembered what her father had told to her.

"Are you Angel of Music?" she asked.

"Yes, Christine, I am" it answered. "And we have to return to the Opera house now".

"Will…will I get to talk to you again?" she asked, afraid that this strange comfort that she was getting from that voice would disappeared.

"If you want to, but you must not tell anybody about me".

"Oh, Angel I won't just don't leave me".

"I won't, my dear".

And then she suddenly fell to darkness. When she waked up she was again in the Opera house, at girls dormitories. But she didn't feel like dying anymore. Her Angel had arrived.

Chapter 3 Dance to remember

Paris Opera house, December 1910

The end of the year 1910 had been all celebrating. There had been Christine's birthday, she had turned 16 years old at the end of the year. Then there had been Christmas and finally now, 31'st December was New Years eve and as a tradition, a masquerade. Meg had been really excited about the incident, because now, as sixteen years old, they were finally permitted to joint the party.

Christine, on the other hand, wasn't really that excited. She didn't feel like partying. Not that she didn't want have fun with Meg, Sorelli and Jammes, but she didn't have a proper dress. The last thing she wanted was to ask money from mama Valerious, but she didn't have enough of her own. Christine was therefore little embarrassed and was thinking how to tell Meg that she wouldn't attend.

"What's wrong, Christine?" voice asked.

Christine had come to chapel and she came there only to pray or if she was troubled.

"Oh, Angel it's nothing. Nothing that would interest you, anyway" Christine said. She had gotten use to this voice during the past four years.

"Everything that concerns you has the greatest interest to me" voice assured her.

Christine smiled. "Well, its little embarrassing really. The Opera house is haven a masque ball tonight and all of us chorus girls are invited".

"You don't want to go?"

"No, that's just it. I want to go" she said, biting her lover lip. "But I don't have a dress".

There was a moment of silence. Christie was starting to think that angel had gone away again. Then the voice appeared again.

"Christine, when you return to the dormitories you will find a dress made for you under your bed" it said.

Christine's eyes winded as she was trying to understand what angel had just said. She intended to ask but she knew he had already gone. She could sense when he left.

Christine returned to dormitories and under her bed there was a box that most certainly wasn't there before. Inside the box was a beautiful black dress. When she raised it to the light she noticed that it wasn't black but red, dark red, like a black rose. She was also delighted to see that it suited her perfectly, as if it was made for her. She couldn't have been happier.

At that moment Meg, Jammes and Sorelli walked in with Joseph Buquet. He was again speaking of the Opera Ghost. And all this because he just once saw it and didn't even see it clearly. Yet he was sure it had been the mysterious phantom.

Finally night came and celebration of the New Year begins. Magnificent fire works are blowing on the sky of Paris. All important and famous people come to Opera house. The ball takes place at the magnificent staircase of the Opera house. Peoples dressed as kings and empresses, clowns and beasts, animals and demons are dancing, drinking and having time of their life.

Christine thanked her luck that Meg had found herself a dance partner, a young boy working behind the scenes, who Madame Giry most certainly would beat if he laid a hand on Meg. If Meg wouldn't be dancing she would asking where Christine had got her dress. It most certainly was not any of operas dresses. Christine was having fun, but she yearned to dance. Too bad that there wasn't anyone asking her and she hadn't ever really had a boy friend.

Then it happened. Christine could feel as if someone was looking at her. She could feel someone's gaze burning to her. Christine raised her eyes to the stair and finally saw him. A tall thin man was walking down the stairs. He was dressed all in red. He had red suit, 17'Th century style. Red boots and gloves and a large red had and cape. In the cape was writing.

Do not touch me. I am the Red Death passing by.

True, man was also wearing a white skull-like mask on his face. And he was looking at Christine. He came toward to her and Christine felt like she couldn't even move. When the man was mere inches away from her she could see that his eyes were not normal ones. Instead of brown, green or blue they were yellow, almost shining. Under his cape the man raised his hand to her, asking her to dance. And without even realizing it Christine put her hand to his.

Christine wasn't sure how long they had been dancing. She could only look at his eyes. They seemed to be so full of adoration toward her. Christine could feel herself blushing. She had never felt so flattered and this man hadn't even said a word to her.

Then the dance, God only knows which one, ended and man let go of her. He pulled a rose under his cape and gave it to her. Then he bowed and disappeared from the ball room. Christine, who at this point had to sit down, wondered why the Red Death had wanted to dance with her and only with her.

She looked at the rose. It had the same collar as her dress. She raised her head to see if the man was still there but he had disappeared. Christine wondered had she just dance with the death or angel. One thing was certain. She wouldn't forget this dance any day soon.

Chapter 4 Lessons

Paris, February 1911

It had been two months when 16 years old Christine Daae had danced with the Red Death at the Paris Opera house. Although her mind should have moved to other things by now, Christine couldn't forget that night. It wasn't because it would have been her romantic awakening as a teenager, well partly yes, but also because she knew that it had been her Angel of Music that had danced with her. Although Christine new that she was right, she hadn't been brave enough to ask it directly from her angel. What if he would be angry? Almost as if receiving some signal, she heard her angel coming. He was again singing with that heavenly music.

"You always sing beautifully, angel" she said. Christine was alone in chapel.

"Why thank you, Christine. It's always nice to hear you saying such beautiful things. You also have a very beautiful voice, my dear. The kind of voice that would make angels weep" voice said.

Christine smiled. "I doubt that with my voice…" she was interrupted.

"I have great fait in your voice, Christine. But you haven't let anyone teach you how to get better. To make it perfect!" voice boomed.

"But angel," Christine said, after she went a little pale "I couldn't possibly afford to have instructor".

"But do you want to have it better? Do you want to let the entire world hear your voice? Or was it just your fathers dream?" voice demanded.

"Of course it is my dream also! How can you question it, I have told it was our both dream! Do you think I have lied to you?" Christine shouted, the pale on her face was been replaced by anger and small tears were forming to her eyes.

"There is no need to get angry, Christine. Of course I believe everything you have told me, my dear".

Christine was now sobbing quietly. "I'm sorry, angel" she finally muttered.

"There, there. Everything is fine. Would you like me to teach you, Christine?"

Christine's head snapped up. "Would you?"

"Of course!" voice shouted excitedly. Then more calmly; "That is if you want me to".

"Of course I want, angel!" Christine said happily and they both laughed. Christine started now have little courage.

"Angel?" she asked.


"Was it you?"

"I peg your pardon?"

"Was it you who danced with me at the masque ball?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Yes, I was the Red Death. How did you guess?" voice asked.

"Just a feeling" she said, smiling for finally being sure.

"Are you angry for me now? Because I'm not what you expected me to be?"

"No, I'm not. You don't know how long I've wanted you to be real. I don't want to sound ungrateful of something, but hearing only a voice without seeing someone…"

"I understand".

"Could I…could I see you now?" she asked, biting her lover lip.

"Are you sure, Christine? You may not like what you find".

"I'm sure".

There was a moment of silence, which Christine expected be him thinking.

"Not yet, Christine" voice finally said. "It has been a long night and you need rest. Tomorrow we will start our lessons. And after your debut, if you still want to, you may see me".

Christine tried to hide her happiness. It was like a fantasy coming true.

"Now, off you go, to the bed" voice said. Christine walked to the door but turned back.



"Do you have a name, or shall I keep calling you angel?" Christine asked.

"You can call me whatever you like, my dear. But I was once given a name; Erik". And then the voice was gone.

Christine walked happily to the girl's dormitories, but was surprised to find that Meg and some other girls were still on the corridor.

"Christine!" Meg said when she noticed her. "Were you again in chapel? Hope you said prayers for us all".

"Meg, what are you talking about?" Christine asked.

"Haven't you heard? Joseph Buquet is dead" she said.

Christine eyes winded. She so got accustomed to see Opera houses stage manager that it was almost impossible to believe he was gone.

"How?" she asked.

"He was found at the third cellar floor, hanged. Police said that it was a suicide, but I know that he was murdered".

"Murdered by whom?" Christine asked.

Meg rolled her eyes. "Well who else but the Phantom of the Opera?"

Christine sighed. "Right…" she muttered.

"But Christine, listen to this. When he was found he had been hanging by some rope. But when police came to look he was on the floor and rope had disappeared. There had been peoples watching that no one would enter there why the police was coming. No one entered there!"

Christine took a deep breathe. "Meg, your listening too much rumours. Let us get back to the dormitory and get some sleep, okay?"

Meg only nodded and followed her. As they almost entered Christine noticed a man she had not seen before. He was dressed like a gentleman, was around his 50's and had a dark skin. He was trying to get to the third cellar floor, but the officer at the door wouldn't let him.

"Who is that, Meg?" Christine asked, knowing that Meg new everything under what happened under the roof of the opera house.

"Don't you know, Christine? It's the Persian!" she said.

So sorry about the spelling and grammal mistakes. English is not my first language.