Well, here it is; my first attempt at a modern day work of fiction. I will do my best to make this worth your reading time, and I hope you enjoy my plot. This will have a little more humor in it, as I am trying to give Erik more depth.

Let me know how you like it.

For details about me, or my writing style, visit my profile. If you have any questions or comments that you do not wish to write in a review, feel free to email or message me.

I will try to update every few days, I am writing this one as I go…so it may take a few days to finish a chapter. This will not be as long as my other stories were; at least I don't think it will be.

Enjoy my lovlies.

DISCLAIMER - I do not claim any of the original characters found inthe books by Leroux or Kay, none of the music that is used, or any poetry unless so stated as being an original work of mine. I created the plot and any characters you do not recognize as being original.

BEYOND THE SHADOWS

CHAPTER 1

Abigail Barnhouse, Editor and CEO of Dollars & Sense magazine, stood at the large, double-paned window in her Manhattan office, overlooking Times Square. For almost a year, she had been mulling over ideas on how to find the perfect millionaire bachelor to be honored with the title of Bachelor of the Year, 2007, for her magazine.

Many names had been submitted, but all of them were old news, and over half of them were old men. What she needed was new blood. Her sources had brought her one name that kept surfacing around the inner circles of her elite clientele – Erik St. Clair.

No one knew for sure that he even existed; it was rumored that he was actually a figment of someone's imagination and that he was really just a figurehead for some corporate office.

Others would swear they had seen glimpses of him or heard his voice coming from the confines of his penthouse apartment; but all traces of him, at least those thatwere easy to follow, had disappeared.

Abigail needed outside help in finding this elusive man, or figurehead…whatever he was. She had no reporters at her calling that were discreet enough to do this without getting belligerent…or worse, giving up.

Abigail's attention was drawn to the knock on her door. She had found the one person in all the United States that could get her what she wanted.

Christine Daae was the best at what she did; but that was only half the reason why Abigail had summoned her. This assignment called for a different technique than what she had used in the past…it needed a softer, more cunning approach.

Abigail had done her homework; she had talked with just about every police precinct in New York and one name kept coming up. That same name led her to the Federal Bureau of Investigation; she was the best. If Abigail wanted the job done, she had to have this young lady leading the way.

She seemedunassuming at first glance; just another beautiful woman on the streets of New York. She had mounds of mahogany-brown curls framing her classically beautiful features; passionate, intelligent midnight blue eyes spoke volumes about the woman sitting across from her…she was not easily swayed in any direction, and was as bright as she was beautiful.

"Ms. Daae, thank you for coming." Abigail stated, as she stretched her hand out for the younger woman to grasp.

Her handshake was firm and tight, indicating a woman who was sure of herself, and capable of handling just about anything thrown her way.

Christine assessed the woman in front of her. Abigail Barnhouse was the epitome of a powerhouse businesswoman; she was in hermid-fifties, with thick, medium length, silver-streaked auburn hair; shrewd, hazel eyes; an expensive, rayon business suit, and black pumps. Christine sensed in her a kindred spirit…a strong, powerful woman with the means to achieve her ends.

"My assistant said that you were in need of my services." She announced, cutting through the small talk.

Abigail smirked; this woman was a no-nonsense kind of person; an admirable trait in people that she wanted to do business with.

Abigail cleared her throat and began, "There have been several occasions in the past where I have been forced to use outside sources to gather the information my readers and board of directors insist upon." She sat back in her chair and folded her hands in front of her, "Last week, we had a 'meeting of the minds', so to speak; every year, we set out to find a millionaire bachelor to name "Bachelor of the Year".

Abigail smiled brightly as she expounded on the title. "Next years edition is going to be very different. I am so tired of writing about the same people all the time; or yuppies that are barely old enough to drive and who have made it big in the computer business or some other 'new' industry."

She leaned forward, capturing Christine's eyes with her intense stare, "I have found a man whose very existence is in question. He has only been heard of, but never seen; no one has ever gotten an interview or a picture…many believe he doesn't even exist."

Abigail shrugged her shoulders and raised her brows, "He's my 'lost millionaire'."

Christine wrinkled her brow, allowing her confusion to show. "Lost' millionaire?" she repeated.

She nodded, but continued, "Every so often, a whisper of information or a tidbit of gossip comes across my desk, or the desk of one of my sources, and gives me a new reclusive millionaire to hunt down."

Abigail gave an impish grin, "But finding a man whose existance is in doubt, who always seems to be one step ahead of everyone,and who seems to doeverything within his power to avoid being found...this only happens once in a lifetime…I want to be the one magazine to find this man."

Christine was listening, but was failing to understand what any of this had to do with her.

"I track tax records, purchases, and phone records…anything that points a trail." Abigail stared directly into those deep blue eyes, "These methods have never failed to reveal the information I sought...until now."

Abigail smiled; causing Christine torealize that she must have been a beautiful woman in heryoungeryears.Heraging seemed to have beensped up bytragic circumstances, rather than actual years.

"The name is St. Clair and my sources insist that, if he does indeed exist, he will be our Bachelor of the Year." Abigial imparted. "You must find him."

Christine's head perked at that name. She had heard of this man. He was thought to be the greatest architect living; he had supposedly designed many of New York's hotels, arts and entertainment buildings, and museums.

"Erik St. Clair?" Christine asked.

"The one and only." Abigail replied.

Christine furrowed her brow, "No one really knows for sure that he exists."

The older woman grinned and raised her chin, "That's where you come in, Ms. Daae."

Christine was a bit flustered at that, "I am no detective, Ms. Barnhouse, nor am I a sleazy reporter who will to anything for a story."

Abigail immediately started shaking her head, "I know…if I had wanted a detective or a sleazy reporter, I would have hired one." She stated with intensity, "I didn't want them…I wanted you."

Christine squinted her eyes at her, "Exactly what is it that you are wanting me to do?"

"Ms. Daae, you are the best free-lance investigative journalist there is…I get that information from many sources." Her voice was pleading, "You have never failed to get the story when you needed to." The older woman allowed a rare look of admiration to enter her eyes. "Once you were recommended, I took the liberty of learning more about you..." She admitted. "...I read your work and found it poignant and well-researched."

Christine refused the cross the line into obtrusive reporter; she had no desire to imose on this man's chosen lifestyle…anymore than she wanted someone imposing on hers.She would not becoerced into her decision.

"All of your expenses will be taken care of, you are free to use whatever sources and means are available to you to find out if he exists and where he is."Ms. Barnhouse stated,"Your commission will be $500,000.00."

The amount she was willing to pay wasenormous; proving to Christine that this was a very important assignment to her.

"What do you need this information for, Ms. Barnhouse?" She finally asked. "I mean, if he does exist…and he has taken all of these measures to ensure his privacy and anonymity…why would you want to take that away from him?"

"Ms Daae,I foundedthis magazine severalyears ago, and I take pride in the reputation my collegues and employees have worked so hard establish." Abigail explained, "I have no desire to sully that reputation by dropping my standards now...if there is any reason why this story cannot be published, than those reasons will be respected and enforced."

Christine had browsed through the pages of Dollars & Sense several times. She liked the articles they wrote about the richest people in the world who had worked their way to the top, through their own skills and mental efforts…they did not inherit the money or obtain it through gambling or dishonesty; these millionaires and billionaires had earned their money.

Christine had promised to be back in contact with Ms. Barnhouse by close of business tomorrow. She had to mull over this one. She didn't need the money; her father had left a sizable inheritance when he passed away. He had been a well-known anthropologist and archeologist in his early years, but had settled down and taught these courses at New York State University.

The sheer excitement of getting the story on this man; of finding out if he really did exist, made Christine's creative juices start flowing again…she had been considering retiring from investigative journalism and finding, what Meg lovingly referred to as, a "real job."

She unlocked the door to her penthouse apartment and grinned, as Cheshire, her tabby cat, greeted her at the door. She hoisted him into her arms, nuzzled his thick fur,and poured him some milk.

Dinner was becoming a routine, and Christine hated routine. Everyday, she grew more and more weary of this life. She was twenty-eight years old; had seen some of the worst atrocities known to man, committed on other human beings.

She had seen decapitated, burned, mutilated, and abused bodies in the war-torn areas of the Middle East. She had witnessed heinous acts being committed in the name of their god and country…she would never get some of those images out of her mind.

At this stage of her life, she had envisioned being madly in love with the man of her dreams; possibly with two or three children. Instead, she had no love life and no prospects.

She had money, thanks to her father and some intelligent investing advice. She had friends – well, three friends; there was the couple that lived next door, Bradley and Jennifer Klawson, who were both stockbrokers; and then there was Meg, her best friend; she was an editor at a major publishing company.

Her love life was…well, nonexistent since Hayden had broken her heart three years ago.

They had been high school sweethearts, inseparable through their junior and senior years. They had gone to the same college and had shared many hours together. Christine had studied journalism, martial arts, and geography; whereas, Hayden had gone into the culinary arts.

She had lost her virginity to him when he had pressured her into the awkward event after junior/senior prom. He had expected it of her often, from that point on. He was the only lover she had ever known. From talking to other women, Christine had determined that he was an awful lover; selfish, demanding, and rough.

She had given him everything and he had still needed more. She had caught him with another woman. He claimed he just couldn't deal with having a woman who was physically stronger than he was. Christine chuckled at that memory; 'What a wimp!". She thought, and chuckled some more.

Where were all the real men…the men who weren't intimidated by a strong woman? Christine wasn't stronger than most men, but she knew how to use what strength she did have to render a person, no matter their size, immobile.

After fixing herself a sandwich, she sat down in front of the television and blindly observed the images as they flashed across the screen. The phone rang next to her.

"Hello."

"Hey girlfriend…what ya up to?"

"Meg, how is it that you always know when I am home?"

A soft chuckle was heard through the phone, "I don't know, just lucky I guess…hey, are you busy tonight?"

Christine smirked at that question, "Am I ever busy in the evenings, Meg?" she asked with sarcasm in her voice.

"I am coming over and you're going to tell me how that interview went with that woman from Dollars & Sense." Meg instructed.

Meg only lived five minutes away and was knocking on Christine's door at about the same time Christine was hanging up the phone.

Meg walked in as the door opened to her and surveyed her surroundings. She and Christine had similar taste in decorative style, so the apartment appealed to her very much.

"So…how did it go?" She asked enthusiastically.

They sat on the couch and munched on a box of donuts, a weakness both of them didn't even try to fight anymore.

"She asked for my services as free-lance investigative journalist…she needs me to find this eccentric millionaire, Erik St. Clair, and get to know him." Christine clarified, "No one really knows for certain that he exists."

Meg loved hearing about all the people and stories which Christine had tracked down for the sake of national security; her life was so exciting…but it was also dangerous.

"Why does she want to know about this guy?" Meg asked.

"Well, their magazine, whose sole purpose is to interview self-made millionaires and billionaires, is doing a spread on Mr. St. Clair…they want to know if he truly exists, and if he does…who is he. All they know is that he is an elusive millionaire…they want to know about his lifestyle, background, what makes him who he is, how did he become a millionaire…and why he hides from the world." Christine really wasn't sure she wanted to do this, but she had to admit that finding out if Erik St. Clair was a living breathing man appealed to her in several ways.

Meg's eyes grew as big as saucers and she grinned at Christine, "That sounds like a lot of fun…are you going to do it?"

"All of my expenses would be paid and I can run the show any way I want to…I'd be stupid not to accept it, wouldn't I?" Christine affirmed.

Meg shook her head in agreement and winked, "Now, if we can just talk Ms. Barnhouse into letting you take your best friend with you."

"I was thinking of asking her to allow you to come anyway…" Christine said

"Really…why?" Meg couldn't help the excited lilt in her voice or the huge smile that graced her face.

"I want to be able to concentrate on him and his answers, toreally give him my undivided attention. I will take my laptop and you can type while he talks or take shorthand and type later - whichever." Christine reasoned.

Meg sat back and crossed her legs in an arrogant manner, "Well, I'm your gal."

"It's going to take a lot of work to track him down, I only have a phantom address to start at…but no one has lived there for some time." Christine was growing more and more interested with the prospect of finding out the truth about Mr. St. Clair.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The next morning found Christine back at Ms. Barnhouse's office accepting the invitation she had offered.

"Here is a company VISA, Ms. Daae, use it for all of your expenses…" Abigail was, again, struck by how beautiful the young woman was. Her looks were very deceiving…she had it on good authority that Ms. Daae could take down a man twice her size with her martial arts training.

"Ms. Barnhouse, I request that my assistant go with me, she is the one who does the typing and business side of things, I am just the brains…so to speak." Christine stated with a smirk.

Abigail shrugged her shoulders and smiled, "You are welcome to enlist the services of anyone or anything that may help you get to the bottom of this mystery."

"What's the time frame we're looking at?" She asked.

Abigail wanted to give her as much time as she could, "The issue is not due out until next year…around Labor Day." She wrote down her fax number, home phone, and cell phone, "Forward any information you obtain as quickly as you can so that my secretary can start compiling the information."

Christine nodded and headed out the door, "Good luck, Ms. Daae…if anyone can do this…it's you." Abigail said as she walked out.

Christine had no doubt she could do it…but she did wonder about the necessity of her search…hunting down abusers of human rights and finding the perfect story was one thing…delving into the private life of a phantom millionaire whose only desire seemed to be to avoid humanity, was a whole different ballgame.

Only time would tell.

TBC