The most defining quality of New York had to be the smell. Stench was a more appropriate word to describe it. As the carriage wheels rolled through the uneven streets, its occupants could hear frequent splashes of sewage, sending the ripe odor into the already foul air. One of the men in the nondescript vehicle covered his mouth and nose with a lightly perfumed handkerchief to filter out some of the vapors, while his friend simply gazed out the widow opening which lacked a glass pane. He could see how the sewage had accumulated, as more than one chamber pot and garbage bin was emptied onto the cobblestone within his sight.

The city itself was just as dirty as the air was, everything stained an unappealing brown, even the people. Many of the buildings appeared to be falling into various states of disrepair, and almost threatened to topple over. Homeless urchins sat on the curb of the street, picking through mounds of garbage in search of scraps that were still edible. More than one alley that was passed sheltered a whore on her knees roughly tending to a client who grunted in a very pig-like manner. Men plagued by poverty seemed to quickly revert towards an animalistic nature. It reminded the men of the slums in Paris, their previous home.

Though here the stench was far more impressive, since it was locked in place by tall buildings stuffed close together. At least French builders had the sense to leave some room for ventilation.

The population dwindled as the carriage left the area known as "Five Points" and entered a more upscale neighborhood. It was lined with neatly groomed apartments and the streets were dotted with well-garbed Anglo-Saxon businessmen and their women. Past the comely apartment buildings rolled the carriage onto the very edge of the city before pulling to a stop in front of a tall iron gate that sheltered a towering mansion.

The stone used in the construction of the elegant home was a dark gray, giving the building a very chill feeling which dissuaded visitors from calling on its inhabitants. The shutters were closed tightly over the windows and the paint had chipped off the wooden spindles that supported a railing around the front porch. The garden had also fallen victim to time and was overgrown with weeds that choked the green from the various shrubs and trees. Vines had begun to creep up the side of the mansion and overall its presence was one of great foreboding.

The carriage driver wrapped his coat just a bit tighter around himself before climbing down to open the door for his customers. The two gentlemen gracefully unfolded themselves from the cramped interior of the carriage and appraised the towering building with critical gazes. Unsure of what to do the poor cabby busied himself with unfastening the three heavy trunks from the back of his carriage and placing them on a relatively clean section of ground. When he was finished, the taller of the two men (who were both above standard New York height), dug into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a wad of cash. He counted out several bills and handed them to the cabby before dismissing him with a nod.

The stout driver clamored back into his seat and pulled away from the house before looking at the money to check if he had been paid enough. Fifteen dollars. That was a whole six dollars more than the fair due from the docks! Just how wealthy were these men who could throw that kind of cash around so carelessly?

In front of the house, the two men entered the creaky iron gate and approached their newly purchased house. The shorter of the two had dark skin, likely from middle eastern decent, and long dark hair which was tied with a leather cord at the base of his neck. The taller man was starkly pale and appeared white as a phantom next to his companion. Only the white porcelain of a half mask that covered his right profile proved he was not, in fact, truly ghostly in complexion. His thick black hair was combed neatly, sleeked over his head and stopping just above his collar. Both men wore expensive felt top-hats and well-tailored black overcoats that cut the October chill of the New England state.

They placed the two trunks on the floor just inside the grand entry room, beneath the chandelier which was clothed in a gray dust tarp. Oil lamps were mounted on the walls, empty of fuel and missing wicks. It was suffice to say the house was neglected. It would be throughout the following week that the furniture, all newly purchased, would arrive. Hardly enough time to get the house clean enough to meet the owner's standards. There was quite a lot of work for them to do.

Author's Note:

This is just a short introduction. A Prologue. Regular chapters will be posted shortly.

Encompassing Disclaimer: I do not own anything. All rights belong to Gaston Leroux (novel) and Andrew Lloyd Webber (musical).