"Holy. Friggin'. Crap. This. Place. Is. HUGE!" Ahh, Paris. My dream vacation. The only downside was that no one spoke English and the food tasted like curdled milk and cost as much as the plane ticket. Looking at a road map, I guessed that the bus had taken me into the middle of the city (Really I had no idea because I can't read a map to save my life). From the sky, the city had looked like one huge maze, as if some had built a city of skyscrapers and monuments and then plowed through it with a mega bulldozer. I had had the impulse to take a piece of paper, hold it up to the window, and try to figure the city-maze out… I did not succeed…

"Okay," I thought aloud, resuming the unhealthy habit I had for talking to myself. "The Louvre tour is at two, and right not it's one… so now I just need to find the Louvre…" My cell phone rang in my pocket, playing the all too familiar song Hero by Skillet. Digging a hand into my jeans' pocket, I pulled out my cell, an old silver Verizon Motorola, and answered it with an over done accent. "Bonjour, mon ami!"

"-Hey Chris, you there yet?-" Brooke's voice buzzed through the telephone.

"Yeah, I just landed a half hour ago. Going on the art tour in an hour."

"-…Lucky…-" Pooooooooor Brooke, her mother wouldn't let her come with me to Europe(Yes, her mother still tells her what to do…) … Really, we're both twenty three… I think we can handle a little vacation without being attacked by ninjas or run into any other unusual circumstance.

"I'll make sure to take lots of pictures of the Opera Garnier for you, promise."

"-You better, or you can forget me over looking you making my laptop explode.-"

"IT WAS THE CAT! I DID NOT NOCK OVER THE FRIGGIN' DR. PEPER!"

"-Okay Stri, have fun. Au revoir.-"

"Chow." I hung up the cell with a click. "Okay…" I looked at the map again. "World's finest art, here I come!"

"WHERE'S THE BATHROOM?!" The tour guide looked at me, a rather funny expression on her face I might add, and answered me in French. I stuck my finger in my ear. "No hablo francés." I received an even more exasperated look. Finally, I pulled out my trusty dollar-store translator guide, flipping to the back. Looking back at the tour guide with more confidence I stated, "Oú je la salle?"

"Down the hall and to the right." The guide spoke in English this time. How nice of her. With purpose to my step and digital camera around my neck, I left my little caravan of tourists to head down the hall and to the left… or was it right? After about ten minutes of looking, I finally found it, on the right side of the hall. I'm really bad with directions, if no one has noticed yet. After I was out of the salle (I'm practicing my French) I decided to ditch my tour and go off on my own, running from painting to painting flashing my camera, ignoring the 'NO FLASH PHOTAGRAPH' sign that was actually in English. Stopping in front of the 'Mona Lisa', I stared for a little while, and then slowly raised my camera and snapped five pictures. I heard a security guard grunt with agitation in the background, and turning, bolted out of the room and into the next. I continued this process until I had successfully made it through the entire French art museum without getting sworn at, thrown out, or fined. I'd say that's a feat to be proud of.

I decided to rejoin my tour group before it exited the museum, making it seem as if I'd been a good girl for the whole trip. Once outside, I checked my watch. Geez! Seven o'clock? I'd better at least see the Garnier's outside before the day was up, or I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. As I finally took a good look around the city, I found that it was already a little too late for that. The sun was starting to set over the horizon of skyscrapers in the early winter evening, the air chilling to the point where I could see my breath billow from my mouth in white wisps. I pulled my light grey jacket around my shoulders more tightly, hoping to save as much body heat as I could.

"Damn," I muttered crossly, beginning to walk and read my map at the same time. It took me longer than I would have liked, but the gold tip of Apollo's lyre became visible in the rapidly fading light. I stopped, leaning into a side alley as I beheld a star of Paris. Though sadly smothered by the rest of the city surrounding it, the multitude of extensively colored columns in the visible front, which I noticed was strikingly similar to the Louvre, and smaller columns for decoration had a sort of lived-in look. The main entrance was foremost in the outer build, but if you looked more closely you noticed the other two side pavilions that contrasted with the monuments total symmetry.

"Beautiful… Just amazing…" I pressed my back to the redbrick wall of the alleyway, sighing with accomplishment. Though it was a little late to be trespassing, I didn't really care. This is what I'd come to Paris for. I smiled smugly. "Oh, I'm gonna rub this in Brookie's face sooo much… heh, heh…" As I marveled at the Opera in the fading light, I felt a hand brush my shoulder.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," I spun around on my heels faster than I thought I possibly could, seeing three men my age behind me. I shrunk back, taking several cautious steps away.

"Uh… Bonjour…?" I replied meekly, shrinking back like a mouse surrounded by cats. The man who had tapped me on the shoulder smiled, seemingly amused.

"American, mademoiselle?" I nodded almost un-noticeably. Now, mind you, I wasn't an easy girl to scare. Meet my friends (Take Brooke for example) and you'll know why. I've probably lived through most of the horror films people cringe at (One time, at my buddy Luna-sama's birthday, we chased each other around with butcher knives!). I was paranoid. I was a female, American tourist, alone at night in the middle of a Paris alley surrounded by three grown men. I'd really been watching too many crime shows lately.

"Umma… I uh…" I glanced at my watch frantically. Eight o'clock. "I have to get to my hotel…" I noticed one of the men had walked around behind me, as hard as I had tried to keep them in my sight. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap! The man behind me ran a hand over my shoulder. I yelped, my spine going as straight as a ramrod. And then, everything got even better!

"Oh, there you are, mon cherie,"

A darker shadow than the surrounding blackness seemed to materialize out of nowhere, gliding across the blacktop without making a sound… wait, what did he call me?

The man behind me shot over to the other two in his group as the black shadow moved over towards me. The shadow shot to my side quickly, yet reluctantly, making me gasp as a hand clasped my forearm. It wasn't the force and roughness of the shadow that had shocked me so, but rather the stone cold boney thing that had grabbed me, which possessed an inhuman coolness that seeped through my thin jacket and straight to my skin. Besides this odd trait, I then noticed the shadow's imposing height, for I only reached up to his shoulder at best. Not, mind you, I'm an average five foot eight, but right then I felt like a friggin' midget.

"…So… this is your girl?"

I think the shadow man smiled, it was impossible to tell, for the collar of his heavy and extravagant ebony cloak and wide brimmed black hat hid his face entirely. I paled at the sound of the shadow's soft laughter, and apparently the other Frenchies heard him to, for their faces turned a sick green. The three men swore in French (the one thing I had studied extensively) and my not-so-shining-and-a-little-less-valiant knight/savior responded to them in their native language. The shadow spoke with unquestionable command, his voice possessing and uncanny resonance, and like stiff marionettes the three men scurried off. I turned to scurry in the opposite direction, but the shadow didn't release my arm. Dread and terror began to eddy my mind with full force again. Now this is what I get for going on vacation in a city of friggin' pigs…

"They're in the alley, you incompetent American. If they see you leave alone, you will have much more to worry about than a lack of courteous speech." I peered into the alley, my neck stuck out, but was unable to see anyone. I was about to challenge Monsieur Tall Dark and Scary, but was silenced as I was able to catch his eyes through the folds of his cloak collar. Two yellow gems stared back with contempt.

So, much to my displeasure, and the contempt of Monsieur Tall Dark Scary and Rude, he led me out of sight of the alley, and surprisingly towards the Garnier. We stopped at the employee entrance, where my strange rescuer released my forearm. I jumped back like a frightened deer at gunpoint.

"Get out of here. Do not come near this Opera House again, lest I choose to enjoy the show rather than cancel it." He turned his back as I tried to catch a glimpse of his face. There was an awkward silence… not that that had become unusual.

"…Sooo… What's your name…?"

"Get out of here."

"Listen bucko, I don't normally thank people, so this is a rare occasion. At least give me your first name so I can properly thank you." I stabbed my finger in his direction to emphasize my words. He crossed his arms slowly, his painfully thin and angular frame betraying his anger.

"Get away from my Opera House."

"Your Opera house? Who are you, the manager?"

"LEAVE."

"Name please."

"Insufferable child! Get out of here!"

"No. Nombre, por favor."

"Damn it all!" He threw his arms into the air, exasperated. He turned on me with all the speed of a cat, pointing a thin, black gloved hand towards me. "If I tell you, will you leave and preferably never come back?"

"Sí."

I think he rolled his eyes in defeat. I couldn't really tell, you know, considering his face was so shadowed over. "…Erik…"

"Okay, was that so hard? Now I'll return the favor. My name is Chris." His gaze flicked over in my direction.

"…Chris? That's a rather odd name for a woman."

"Well monsieur, Erik isn't a very French name. Chris is just my nickname. I don't really like my full name."

"…Well, what is it?" The stiffness to his frame had loosened ever so slightly, and the anger in his voice was beginning to slowly change to curiosity. What a contradiction. I sighed.

"If you must know, my full name is Christine."

"…What?"

"Christine, monsieur. What about it?" I frowned at the back of his head as he turned away from me again. I reached out to grab the edge of his cloak as he began to quickly stride, which was like jogging for me, in the direction of the Garnier. My fingers grasped nothing but air as he dove into the darkness of the employee entrance. "Hey! What did I say?" I yelled into the darkness, but he had already disappeared.

"Stay away from my Opera House, mademoiselle, and be forewarned lest you return in your ignorance: this is my Kingdom of Darkness in which you so boldly trespass. Returning to my theater would mean certain death on your part. HEED MY WARNING AND LEAVE."

The voice of a master ventriloquist swirled around me, raising the hair on the back of my neck. God… Some vacation this was turning out to be…

"…Okay… maybe I should be renewing my passport a little early…"