Mercer rolled his shoulders back, his eyes riveted on the stage in front of him. A dark, velvet curtain hung to his right. To his left was the scenery built and painted to look like a beautiful garden. Behind him were six other young men dressed in satyr costumes much like his own.

     Voices from the crowd wafted behind the curtain. Mercer took a deep breath and smiled at the performers behind him. It will be fine, he thought. Just lead them in the dance-

     "Mercer?" Whispered a young man's voice.

     Mercer focused on the young speaker, whose whole body was trembling slightly. "Yes, Francis?" he asked softly.

     "I forgot the first step...and everything else."

     The other five dancers groaned quietly. Mercer put his hand on the boy's shoulder and whispered, "Just leap in with the rest of us and keep going."

     "Oh yeah," Francis murmured. "Thank you." He smiled weakly at Mercer, who gave him a nod.

     The first soft notes floated through the air as the orchestra began to play. The curtains opened, revealing a large, forest background with several scenery trees in front of it.

      Suddenly, a thin, lavishly-dressed woman strode out onto the stage flanked by two women dressed as servants. The leading woman was fairly short with long black hair that was braided down her back. Her dress was form-fitting and covered in fake flowers.

     "Oh, that love would come swiftly to me," the woman sang out, her out of tune voice booming in the ears of all.

     Mercer stifled a shudder. And thus, Carlotta makes her entrance, he thought to himself as her voice continued to fill the auditorium. She sang for a few more minutes, then finished with a high-pitched note that caused Mercer to wince.

     With a nod to the other young men, Mercer leapt out onstage with a loud cry. They quickly surrounded the trio of women. The two 'servants' were dragged offstage by two of the satyrs. Mercer grabbed Carlotta by the arm and made as though to drag her off as well.

     "Oh, will no one come to my rescue?" Carlotta sang, her voice trembling with emotion.

     "Unhand her at once! She is under my protection!"

     Mercer looked toward stage left and suppressed a grin. The singer was none other than Christopher, who was dressed in a silver-colored tunic with a helmet on his head. In his right hand was a wooden sword and in his left was a wooden shield.

     Christopher bounded forward and 'stabbed' every satyr that got in his way. Each performer fell to the ground until only Mercer was left. With a cry of horror, he released Carlotta and ran offstage the way he had come.

     Mercer suppressed a laugh as he rushed to his dressing room. I probably shouldn't mention how ridiculous he looks, Mercer thought to himself as Christopher and Carlotta continued to sing.

     After a quick costume change, Mercer raced back to the stage and watched as the heroic young knight fought to win the hand of the fair maiden he had rescued. Her father had already chosen her fiancé, but the young woman pleaded for her hero and her father agreed to allow him to prove himself worthy. A duel between the fiancé and the knight was set for the following morning.

     The maiden snuck into the palace gardens later that night and met with her hero. She gave him a hair ribbon to carry with him during the fight.

     "And do not take his bait, for with words he will disarm you," she sang. "Your pride mustn't blind you!" With that, she turned towards the audience and began belting out her piece. "My heart be with you, my love!" Carlotta flung her arms out, one of them heading straight for Christopher's face. The poor man stumbled backwards just in time.

     Mercer was watching from stage right. He smiled sadly as Christopher started singing from behind the Prima Donna. Only a little longer, mon ami, he thought.

     The scene soon switched from the garden to a small arena where the knight and the prince stood opposite one another. The duel was quickly underway, and swords crossed, but of course not loudly enough to drown out the singing.

     Christopher put up a great effort, but in the end, the knight fell to the ground in defeat. Mercer bit his lip as his body tensed with suppressed laughter. Carlotta was wailing over the body of her slain hero, begging him to remain with her. To his credit, Christopher lay perfectly still.

     Soon, the curtain fell and the performers scrambled into position for curtain call. Loud applause greeted the cast as they bowed and curtseyed to the audience. Mercer smiled at Christopher, who was quite pale, but wore a slight grin on his face.

     As soon as the curtain fell, the performers scattered to the dressing rooms. Mercer walked over to Christopher and clapped him on the back.

     "Bravo, Divo!" Mercer said, his smile growing wider.

     "Thank you," Christopher replied with a bit of a nervous laugh.

     "I'm guessing you were glad to have died in the end?"

     Christopher shuddered and nodded, prompting a guffaw from Mercer.

     "We should go change, then celebrate!" the latter stated.

     Christopher nodded and both men started for their dressing rooms.

     "Mercer?" Christopher asked.

     "What?"

     "Could you help me out of this armor? I would really prefer not to get stuck in it."

     Mercer laughed and nodded. "That would really ruin the night," he said as the pair walked down the hall.

     Mercer kept up a steady stream of chatter as the pair headed to the leading man's dressing room. The wooden floorboards creaked slightly under their feet. The white plaster walls reflected the candlelight from their wall fixtures and were accented with the same wood as the floor.

     As the pair continued on, they passed various performers and stagehands. Some smiled and nodded, but others glared and wouldn't even look Christopher in the eye.

     "Good show, Christopher!" a young man called from in front of them.

     "Thanks, Harold," Christopher replied with a slight grin.

     Harold walked toward them, carrying a bundle of costume pieces. His short, skinny frame was clothed in a simple tan shirt, brown pants, and boots. His brown hair was tousled and his brown eyes were surrounded by laugh lines.

     "Any plans for the evening?" Harold asked, his British accent coming out pretty distinctly.

     "Dinner with my mother," Mercer replied. "We have to celebrate somehow!"

     As Harold opened his mouth to reply, Christopher cleared his throat. Both Mercer and Harold looked at him immediately. The poor man gestured to his "armor."

     "Right! Sorry, Christopher," Mercer said with a sheepish smile. Turning to Harold, he said, "You'll have to excuse us. I have to go help him with his costume."

      Harold Nodded. "Well, good-bye!" the Brit replied. With a friendly wave of his hand, the younger man was off.

      The original pair continued down the hall at a quicker pace.

      "Sorry, Chris," Mercer said to his friend. 

      "If I hadn't stopped you, we would likely still be standing there until your mother came to fetch us!" Christopher teased.

      Both of them laughed as they reached the door to the Divo's dressing room. Christopher reached for the door just as a loud scream echoed through the hallway.

     Mercer's gaze swung to the right as Christopher jumped and nearly slammed into his friend. A small crowd had already gathered around a fuming Carlotta, who was standing in front of her open dressing room door.

     "Ruined!" she bellowed. "It is all but ruined!" Carlotta stormed back the way she had come, shouting, "Where are ze managers?!"

     Both Christopher and Mercer looked at each other.

     "The Opera Ghost strikes again," Christopher muttered. He glanced the door to his dressing room, then took a step back. "We may not want to go in there..."

     "Nonsense!" Mercer replied, grasping the handle firmly. "Let's just stand to the side and open the door. If nothing happens, we can go inside."

     "And if something happens?" Christopher asked, his face paling.

     "Then we run for our lives."

     Christopher and Mercer stepped to the side. With a quick twist of his wrist, Mercer turned the knob and threw open the door. Both men waited with baited breath for a minute. Not a sound came from the room.

     Then, plucking up his courage, Mercer stuck his head in the room. Inside, the vanity was trashed, a clothing rack was tripped on its side, clothing and makeup were all over the floor, and glass shards strewn everywhere.

     "Well, at least he caused trouble while you weren't in there," Mercer said with a note of relief in his voice. Christopher laughed weakly.

     The two young men walked inside, shutting the door behind them. Christopher looked longingly at the door, but followed Mercer as he picked his way through the wreckage of the room.

     Together, they set the clothing rack and the vanity upright. Christopher attempted to bend over and pick up a few stray knick-knacks, but quickly let out a groan. Mercer fought back a laugh as his friend struggled with his armor.

     "Let's get that armor off of you before we keep going," he said with a grin. Christopher glared at him for a second, then stood up and turned around so that his back was facing Mercer.

     Mercer undid the leather straps in the back and helped his friend pull the armor off. They quickly placed it on the chair in front of the vanity.

     "Thank you," Christopher said, rolling his shoulders back.

     "You're welcome!" Mercer replied. "I need to change, then I'll come back and we'll see if my mother's ready to go." With that, he walked to the door, opened it, and strode down the hallway to the male chorus dressing rooms. He came to the third wooden door on his right and opened it carefully, revealing a room that was much like the Divo's dressing room.

     I hope that's all the excitement for tonight, he thought with a shudder as he walked inside.

     Mercer grabbed his normal clothes off the rack and swapped his courtier outfit for these. He pulled on a plain light blue long-sleeve shirt, brown trousers, an olive-green vest, and worn, brown shoes. He neatly hung his costume on the rack and turned to the coat rack next to the door. On it hung a brown jacket with patches on the elbows.

     As soon as he grabbed his jacket, Mercer was out the door again. He headed in the direction of the divo room. Mercer had to suppress a smile as he got closer to the room.

     In front of the Divo room stood Christopher and a rather beautiful young woman. The woman was skinny and slightly pale. She wore a sleeveless navy-blue dress with a full skirt and white opera gloves. They were chatting and smiling as Mercer came towards them.

     One night as the divo and this happens, Mercer thought with chuckle.

     "...And you were always racing me to the sea," Mercer heard the young woman tell Christopher. She smiled and shook her head.

     "Yes, I remember," Christopher replied, laughing a little. "I usually ended up winning, too."

     "I'm back!" Mercer called, causing the pair to turn to face him. "Who is this lovely young woman you seem to know so well?"

      Christopher laughed. "Mercer, this is my old playmate, Raoulette de Changey," he told his friend, gesturing to the young woman. She curtsied with a smile. "Raoulette, this is my friend and fellow chorus member, Mercer Giry."

      "Pleased to meet you, Mademoiselle," Mercer said with a slight bow.

      "The pleasure is mine," she replied. Raoulette then turned back to Christopher and opened her mouth slightly.

      "Monsieur Giry!" one of the managers yelled. The trio jumped a bit and turned to look at him.

      M. Richard stood next to the Prima Donna Dressing room with M. Moncharmin beside him. "Come here!" M. Richards called firmly.

      Mercer gave Christopher and Raoulette a nod, then walked over to the managers. "What can I do for you, Messiers?" he asked.

      "M. Giry, we have a job for you."

      "What is the job, Messiers?" Mercer asked, his grin faltering.

      "We need these dressing rooms put back in order," M. Richards replied, gesturing to the lead dressing rooms. "We absolutely cannot have this 'Opera Ghost' nonsense spread about further than it has been spread already!"

      Too late now, Mercer thought. Outwardly, he replied, "Yes, Messiers. I'll get right to it." His grin became forced as he turned and headed back towards the rooms.

      Christopher was staring at Mercer as the latter returned. Mercer saw that he was pulling at the hem of his shirt just a bit.

      "They didn't fire you, right?" he asked quietly.

      Mercer chuckled a little and shook his head. "No, I'm still a dancer," he replied. "We just might have to celebrate tomorrow. I need to go clean the dressing rooms." He pointed to the lead dressing rooms.

      Christopher sighed a little. But then his eyes lit up. "I'll help," he stated with a little grin.

      "Alright," Mercer replied with a nod. He turned to Raoulette and bowed his head a bit. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle," he said with a smile.

      "And the same with you," Raoulette replied, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She glanced at Christopher and asked, "But, before you start, would you escort me to my brother? He should be waiting for me at the entrance, so it should not take long."

       Christopher looked at Mercer and opened his mouth to speak. The latter just laughed and waved them on.

       "Go on, Chris," Mercer said. "I'll leave some mess for you, if you want!"

       Christopher smiled and offered his arm to Raoulette, who took it gladly. They walked off down the hall, laughing and talking.

       Mercer watched them go for a second, then turned his attention back to the rooms. I guess I'll finish the Divo room first, he thought to himself. Maybe by that time-

      "Need any help, Mercer?"

      The young man jumped a bit and turned to see Erika's masked face an arm's length away from his own. Her skinny frame was stiff as she continued to look up at him.

      Mercer took a deep breath before replying, "I guess so, since Chris left just now."

      "I noticed. Where do we start?"

      Mercer's grin was once more on his face as he motioned to the Divo room. "Chris and I already started in here, so we shouldn't have much to do," he explained as they walked forward.

       Erika merely nodded as Mercer opened the door. Once inside, they set to work picking the costumes off the floor, shaking them out, and hanging them neatly in place on the rack. Neither spoke a word.

       "Achoo!" Mercer grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket.

       "Bless you," Erika said as he blew his nose.

      "Thank you," he replied, shoving the fabric back in his pocket. "This Opera Ghost doesn't seem to mind dust, am I right?"

       Erika shrugged, then glanced critically at the floor. Glass and porcelain shards were strewn all over the floor. They crunched under Erika's feet as she approached a closet in the corner.

       She leaned inside and came back out with a broom. With long, sweeping motions she gathered the debris into a pile in the middle of the room.

        After a few more minutes, the room was mainly back in order. Everything but the vanity mirror and a handful of makeup bottles was intact.

        "Well, that was quick," Mercer said as Erika walked up to him. Erika only nodded. "On to the last room!" Mercer said cheerfully, heading for the door.

        "There are only two rooms, Mercer," Erika replied as she followed him.

       "Which makes this one our last one. I really don't see your problem," he said, reaching the door and opening it for her.

       "You made it sound like we have been cleaning more than two-oof!" Erika collided with a passing stagehand with messy brown hair, nearly sending both of them to the floor. A loud thump sounded as the broom Erika was carrying hit the floor.

       "Incredibly...sorry, Miss!" Harold said, panting a little. "Guess I need to...be more careful...around here, eh?"

       "Yes, well, I was not looking where I was going either," Erika replied as she grabbed the broom and stood up.

       She cocked her head to the side, studying Harold for moment before straightening up completely.

       Harold raised an eyebrow, but then held out his hand to her. "I'm Harold, by the way," he told her.

       "I am Erika," she replied curtly, shaking the hand he held out.

       Harold turned to Mercer. "Do you need any more help? 'Many hands make light work,' you know!"

       "That would great!" Mercer replied, a relieved smile on his face. That was odd, he thought to himself. He shrugged to himself and started a stream of chatter with Harold as they walked, Erika positioning herself behind them.

       Once they reached the room, Harold's jaw dropped. He just stood there for a moment until Mercer put a hand on his shoulder.

       "This Phantom's quite the bricky fellow, isn't he?" Harold said, shaking his head as if to clear it.

       "What?" Mercer asked, his eyebrow raised.

       "He's brave," Harold answered quickly. He stepped into the trashed room and began picking costumes up off of the floor.

       "Ah." Mercer stepped away from the door and motioned with his arm for Erika to go first. "ladies first," he said with a grin.

        Erika gave him a pointed glare and shook her head. "You are closer, you know. Just go inside and I will follow you."

        Mercer shrugged and walked into the room. No use being hit upside the head over it, he thought, eyeing the broom as he moved towards the costume rack.

        Harold brought an armful of dresses over to the rack as Mercer set it upright.

        "The Phantom was very thorough," Harold remarked, nodding to the shattered bottles and scattered accessories that lay in a thin layer on the floor. On the other side of the room, Erika was sweeping the sweet-smelling shards of glass into a pile.

        "No joke," Mercer replied. Suddenly, he saw something on top of a pile of clothes in a corner. It was a necklace that sparkled and resembled a spider's web.

         I'd better check and make sure it is not damaged, Mercer thought, heading towards the clothes pile. Carlotta will be furious if there's a strand of silver missing. She'll probably be furious anyway, but you know...

        Mercer picked his way through the debris and soon reached the pile. He put out his hand to grab the necklace and-

        "Stop!" Harold cried.

        Mercer froze and turned his head to look at the Brit. "What?" he asked, frowning slightly.

        Erika had stopped her sweeping and was staring at Mercer. Her eyes widened slightly. "He's right," she said, pointing behind the clothes pile.

        Mercer followed her gesture and swallowed hard. Erika was pointing to a wooden contraption that looked like a tower of four mounted crossbows. In the slots where the arrows would normally sit were knives. The whole machine was somewhat disguised by shadow. Mercer shivered.

       "What do I do?" he asked, eyeing the crossbows.

       "Come here, Mercer," Harold said firmly. Mercer all too willingly obliged.

      "I will try to dismantle it," Erika said, setting the broom against the nearest wall.

      "Are you certain that's-" Mercer began.

      "I will be fine," Erika snapped, walking over to the contraption. "I have dealt with complicated machinery before."

      Mercer raised an eyebrow but said nothing. When would she have done that? he thought. Out loud, he asked, "How did you spot the trap, Harold?"

       "I was expecting traps, so I was looking for them," Harold replied with a shrug. "Like I said, he's a bric-"

Thud!

       Both men jumped and stared at the four knives lodged vertically in the door to the room. Immediately, Mercer glanced at Erika.

       The young woman was alright, but she growled under her breath. "I dislodged the firing pin on accident," Erika muttered.

       Before either man could think of a response, voices were heard in the hallway.

       "We promise, Señora," one of the managers said. "It will be clean and orderly and ready for your use."

       "I should 'ope zo!" came the slightly high-pitched response. The doorknob turned and the door opened wide, the knives still sticking out of the wood.

       "EEEEK!" Carlotta shrieked. Her eyes found the trio and narrowed. "What haf you done?!?" she asked with a bit of a shriek.

        Mercer opened his mouth to speak, but M. Richards beat him to it. "Out!" he said. "We will send in someone else to do the job properly."

        "Yes, Monsieur," Mercer replied. The managers and Carlotta moved to allow the trio to pass, though Carlotta turned up her nose and refused to make eye-contact.

         Once the three had walked a safe distance down the hall, Harold bid Mercer and Erika good night. "After all the excitement, I hope you sleep well," he said.

         "Say hello to your mother for me!" Mercer called after him. The Brit waved and was soon out of sight.

         Madame Giry quickly came into view just after he left. Mercer smiled.

         "Hello, mother," he said.

         She nodded in return. Then she turned to Erika. "Good night, Mademoiselle," Madame Giry said.

         "Good night," Erika replied. With that, the girl walked the way the older woman had come from and was soon gone.

         Mercer offered his mother his arm, which she accepted wordlessly. They headed towards a door at the end of the hall.

         As they walked, Mercer turned his head to look at his mother. "Mother, who is Erika?" he asked.

        "An enigma," she replied. "One that ought to remain such for you."

        Mercer frowned slightly, but said, "Why?"

        They reached the door at this point and Mercer opened it for her. Madame Giry turned to him before stepping through and replied, "There are things that ought to remain hidden." With that, she walked outside.

        Mercer suddenly felt his shoulder blades tense and he turned around, half expecting Erika to be standing there. But there was nothing and no one behind him. Mercer shuddered and then turned to follow his mother. Father God, he silently prayed, please protect us from whatever is happening here.