Erika kept her gaze on the tunnel in front of her. The lantern she held illuminated her skeletal frame, which was clothed in a dark brown dress and black boots. A white leather mask covered her whole face except for her eyes and mouth.

       Her strides were quick as she walked forward, the stone tunnel soon ending up ahead. Spider webs glimmered in the light as Erika approached the wooden door up ahead.

       With a slight clink, she placed the lantern on the ground. Erika turned to her left and pulled a stone free from the wall that was just above her eye level. Peering into the hollow that was left, she reached in and grabbed a dark lump in the back.

        "Is everything still here?" she murmured as she examined the object she now held. It was covered in a cloth sack, which she opened to reveal a stack of lined papers. Erika flipped through the stack briefly and let out a small sigh.

        "My music is safe," she said quietly. With that, she placed the rock back in its hole.

        "Now, is anyone outside?" She turned back to the door, pressed her face against it and peered out a small peephole. Outside the door was a dimly-lit, stone alley that was lined with brick buildings and strewn with refuse. The sky above it was dark and wisped with clouds. Nothing stirred except for a few rats and the occasional trap on the surrounding streets.

        Erika stepped back from the door and looked down at her waist. She placed her hands just below her hips and slipped them into the folds of her skirt. Rough leather hilts and smooth metal blades were what she felt, as well as leather surrounding her hands.

        With a satisfied nod, Erika pulled her hands out of her hidden sheathes. She picked up the lantern, blew it out and then opened the door. She slid out of the tunnel and swiftly closed the door, locking it behind her.

         She stuck to the shadows as she walked the darkened streets of Paris. Fortunately, not many people were out that would notice her shadowy figure.

        It is a miracle that my client agrees to meet me at such a late hour, she thought to herself. Then again, his boss is willing to pay many francs to the both of us for this transaction...

       After seven minutes or so, Erika arrived at her destination. Before her stood the entrance to the Paris Opera House. Better known as the Palais Garnier, its many, arched doorways greeted those who entered. Above the doorways were tall windows with two pillars between each window. Above this were a series of ornate, garland carvings with giant rosettes framed by the leafy details. On the roof was a great copper dome, which sat in the middle of the roof. It was flanked by two angel statues, one on either side.

       She sighed as she turned and walked to a darker part of the front staircase. Soon, I will return to listen to the voice parts for my next piece, she reminded herself. For now...there he stands. In the niche up ahead stood a short, slightly rotund man with a bushy mustache and a fine suit.

      "Do you have it?" he asked impatiently.

      "Yes," Erika replied curtly.

      "Let me see it," he snapped, holding out his hand.

      Without a word, she obeyed. It is not as if he really cares about my music anyhow, she thought bitterly.

      The man grabbed the sack from her, opened it and examined the contents. He flipped through the pages, counting each one carefully. The words were eyeballed and mouthed, as if the man himself was trying to create each of the voices.

      Finally, after several boring minutes, he looked up and voiced his offer: "20 Francs. No more, no less."

      "20 Francs?!" Erika said angrily. "Do you have any idea how much work I put into this piece?"

      "Do you need the money?"

      "Yes, Monsieur." Erika's eyes narrowed as he smirked at her and counted out the promised amount.

      "You strike me as a sensible woman," the man said smugly as he handed Erika her bag and the Francs. "A pleasure doing business wi-"

      "Good evening, Monsieur," she said curtly. "I hope this 'Opera Ghost' you are dealing with takes a shot at you." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, smirking at the man's flustered, "Harrumph!"

       She began her trip home. I cannot believe that he would... she thought to herself furiously. No, I do believe he would trick me. Men like him are always looking to make a profit. I hope-

       Her thoughts were cut short by nearby laughter. Erika turned to her right and saw men walking towards her.

       There were four of them, all of average height and all quite muscular. Their clothes were worn and tattered. One with shaggy black hair and a jovial countenance grinned when he saw her.

       "Hello, Mademoiselle," he said with a hiccup. "A bit late for ya ta be out, itdn't it?" His companions snickered.

       Erika looked him up and down critically, but said nothing.

       Extending his hand toward her, the man asked, "Do ya need a place to stay?"

       Erika backed away quickly, drawing another round of snickers from the group.

       "No, I do not," she replied angrily. "Now please, leave me be."

       "Na, I think I'll take my chances." He lunged for her and grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip. The other three men circled them, egging on their leader.

       With a snarl, Erika kneed her captor in the gut. His eyes went wide and he let out a cry. She twisted from his grasp and faced the four men, her eyes blazing.

       Their leader recovered quickly and stepped forward with an angry look on his face.

       "Do not come any closer," Erika said, an edge in her voice. As the leader stepped forward, she pulled her knives from her pockets.

       "P-Pierre, l-let's go," one of the men said carefully. Pierre decided to keep walking.

        Erika swung her arm forward and flung one of the knives at him. It clipped his left shoulder and tore a scrap of fabric from his jacket.

        "I told you to leave me be," Erika stated levelly. "Now do it before I move my aim over a few inches!"

        Just then, a man called out from their right, "What is going on here?"

       The four men looked to the source of the voice, but Erika did not risk it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two figures in the light of the street lamps.

        For a moment, no one moved. Then one of the men put a hand on Pierre's arm and tugged. He was given an ugly glare and shoved aside.

       "This isn't over," Pierre told Erika with a growl.

       "That is what they all say," she replied coolly at the foursome turned and walked away. Once she was certain they were leaving, she turned to investigate the mysterious speakers.

        Before her stood two young men. One was tall, skinny, slightly muscular and had dark, straight hair. The other was slightly taller than his companion, about as muscular as the other with blond, slightly curly hair.

        The dark-haired one stepped forward with a look of concern on his face. "Are you alright?" he asked. "Did they hurt you?"

        Erika resisted the urge to roll her eyes and replied, "No, I am fine."

        A relieved smile spread across his face. "After that display, I am not surprised. My name is Mercer Giry by the way. And this is my friend, Christopher Daaé." He gestured to his blond friend, who smiled and nodded.

       Erika gave them both a polite nod, suppressing a smirk.

       "And what is your name?" Mercer asked.

       Silence greeted his question at first. Then the young woman looked him square in the eye and replied, "Erika. My name is Erika."

       "Well, Erika, I would ask if you need an escort, but..." he gestured to the knife on the ground. "I think you are safe."

        "But it isn't safe," Christopher said worriedly, glancing around at the dark, stone streets of Paris. "May we escort you home?"

        "Monsieur, I assure you, I have lived on these streets long enough to know their dangers," Erika said authoritatively. Christopher opened his mouth to protest.

        "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going." With that, Erika turned and went to retrieve the knife. Behind her, the pair was engaged in a serious conversation. Erika heard her name mentioned a few times.

        She stood up. "Good evening, Messiers," she called over her shoulder.

        "Good evening, Mademoiselle," Mercer said with a smile. "I hope we meet again!" Beside him, Christopher gave her a worried look, but waved nonetheless.

        Erika laughed to herself as she walked. We may not meet, but I will see you again, she thought. After all, I must visit the Opera House to write the voice parts for everyone. Even Carlotta! Erika groaned.

        Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind her. Rolling her eyes, Erika stopped and turned around. "I told you tha-" The sentence hung in the air as she looked around. No one was in sight.

        Heaving a sigh, Erika turned back in the direction of home and kept walking. The steps returned and kept even with her pace.

        She listened intently without changing her demeanor or direction. Have they finally found me? she wondered with a shiver.

        Nothing eventful happened by the time she got back to the door, so she pressed the brick. Once the stone door slid open, she unlocked the wooden door and hurried inside. Erika shut the door, turned around and quickened her pace. Then, she heard the door open and close behind her.

        I have to leave, she thought frantically. Erika started running through the tunnel system, taking wrong turns, looping back, anything to shake her pursuers. The footsteps still followed her.

         Finally, she came to a section of the stone tunnel and stopped. She turned toward the wall, which appeared to be the same as the rest of the tunnel. Torches lined it and cast light on the mold that grew on its stones. But if one looked closely, the outline of a door became apparent.

        Erika reached for one of the torches and pulled down on it. Before her eyes, a door-shaped section of wall slid forward and to the side, revealing a normal wooden door. She quickly let herself in and shut the wood door. She pulled the torch next to the inner door and then began locking it securely.

        Only then did she quickly survey the room she was inside. The walls and floors were carved from a brown rock. In the middle of the small room stood a wooden table with various odds and ends on it and a chair beside it. On one side stood a bed with a mirror hanging next to it. In a corner, a pipe organ sat silent, stacks of sheet music piled on top of it.

        With a sigh, Erika walked to the organ and began shoving the sheet music into the sack that also held the money. Banging ensued on the other side of the door, followed by a round of oaths.

        Erika grabbed one last stack of papers, shoved them in the bag and ran for the mirror. Once in front of it, she reached out a hand and ran her fingers over the left side of the mirror. A faint, metallic click was awarded her and the looking glass swung outward. It revealed yet another gloomy passage.

        In a moment, Erika was behind the closed mirror, panting as she began walking quickly down the tunnel. "That was too close," she muttered worriedly. She glanced back towards her home and shook her head. "At least I am alive."

        Erika reached up and into the collar of her dress. From it, she pulled out a small silver sphere with jagged edges that hung from a chain around her neck. She examined it carefully and then put it back out of sight. "And at least the key is safe," she whispered.