The Darkness Dwellers

by Kirsten Miller

  “It could be anyone, but it’s probably the police. They patrol the catacombs, looking for trespassers. It’s easy to avoid them if you know your way around.”

  Kiki followed as Etienne slinked through the tunnel, passing a dozen forks as if he were following a familiar path. Behind them, Marcel seemed to be scribbling directions on a piece of paper.

  “You don’t need a map?” she asked Etienne once it felt safe to talk.

  “Maps are discouraged,” the boy replied. “They can fall into the wrong hands.”

  “No joke,” Kiki agreed. “So why is your friend making one?”

  Etienne glanced back over his shoulder. “It’s only temporary. Marcel will study it and then throw it away. He’s learning the tunnels. He needs to know them by heart if he wants to be a Darkness Dweller.”

  “They expect you to memorize the catacombs? Aren’t there miles of tunnels down here?”

  “One hundred and seventy-seven to be exact, and the Darkness Dwellers keep a complete map of the passages in their heads. One of the English members calls it the Knowledge.”

  “So how did you come to know the catacombs?” Kiki asked.

  Etienne grinned. “I found an entrance to the tunnels in the basement of my grade school,” he said. “Back in the seventeenth century, the building had been a monastery, and the monks stored their beer in the cavities. When I was eleven, I formed a group called Les Taupes to explore the tunnels.”

  “That sounds familiar,” Kiki muttered. “So what happened to the rest of Les Taupes?”

  “We are no longer friends,” Etienne said sullenly. “Once when I was sick with the flu, they decided to visit the catacombs without me. They were reckless, and they all got caught by the patrol. Our school decided to destroy the entrance to the tunnels. Exploring was all I lived for in those days, and it took months to find another way underground. When I did, I refused to take my former friends with me. For years, I came to the catacombs on my own. It may have been lonely, but it was easier that way.”

  They stomped along in silence until a ghostly figure came into sight.

  “What’s that?” Kiki asked. The figure painted on the tunnel wall resembled an enormous white artist’s dummy. Its spindly legs danced a jig while a question mark floated above its head.

  “It’s Le Corps Blanc—the White Corpse. He’s all over the catacombs. He’s meant to confuse tourists and lead them astray. Never follow his directions. But never go the opposite way, either. It’s best to just ignore him.”

  “There are a lot of tourists down here?”

  Etienne chuckled. “That’s just what we call people who don’t know what they’re doing. They’re tourists; we’re cataphiles.”

  “And how many cataphiles are there?”

  “No one knows.” Etienne came to a stop and focused his flashlight on a mural painted on the wall. It showed a figure in dark robes forging through a dreary forest. Vines crept around his ankles while tree branches reached down to snatch him. The man had paused to peer over his shoulder. The painting didn’t reveal what he saw behind him—just the fear that made the man’s eyes bulge from their sockets.

  “Wow,” Kiki marveled. “That’s pretty twisted. As much as I admire the art, I’m not sure I’d want to run into the artist down here.”

  “There are similar paintings in every section of the catacombs,” Etienne informed her. “I’ve seen sculptures and mosaics as well. Some of the art is quite good, and most of it is a little disturbing. A few pieces are sick enough to make me worry about meeting their creators.”

  “Don’t worry, mon petit cher, I’ll protect you,” Marcel said. Kiki grimaced at the sound of his voice. She’d almost forgotten the big lug was trailing behind them. “How much longer before we get to the party?”

  “I have no idea,” Etienne confessed.

  “You have no idea?” Kiki asked.

  “I haven’t picked up the directions yet,” Etienne said. He faced the mural and let his fingers pass lightly over the wall. They appeared to dip inside what looked like a hole in a tree trunk and emerged with a piece of blue paper, which he unfolded and examined. “Okay,” he told his two companions. “You’re in for a treat. We’re going to the grotto.”

  “What did you just do?” Kiki asked.

  “That’s how we communicate down here,” Etienne told her. “Every group has a set of secret drop points. We leave messages for each other inside holes in the walls. The leader of the Darkness Dwellers knows I spend a lot of time in this part of the catacombs. He left the note for me.”

  “But I thought you weren’t a member,” Kiki noted. “How do you know where the Darkness Dwellers’ drop points are? And why do they leave messages for you?”

  “They won’t let him join, but they’re happy to let him act as their mascot,” Marcel said with a snicker.

  Etienne blushed. “They still think of me as a kid,” he explained. “That’s why I’m trying to prove myself by fixing …” He froze and flipped off his flashlight. The darkness embraced them. In the distance, they could hear someone approaching.

  “Sounds like we’re being tailed. Follow me,” he whispered in Kiki’s ear. “My hideout isn’t far away.”

  Kiki felt herself being guided down the tunnel and then through a narrow passage. The walls brushed her shoulders on both sides, and she tried to step as softly as possible.

  When they reached an open space, Etienne turned Kiki to face a tiny opening in a wall. “We’re safe now. Look. You can see the passage we just left.”

  Outside in the tunnel, the beam of a flashlight grew brighter. A mustachioed man wearing a navy Macintosh and knee-high boots passed their hiding place, then paused as if confused. After a minute of contemplation, he continued in the same direction, and the light gradually faded away.

  “Was that him?” Marcel asked softly.

  “Yes,” Etienne confirmed. “Let’s make sure he’s gone before we turn on the lights.”

  “Who was it?” Kiki inquired.

  “A man named Fitzroy,” Etienne said. “I met him down here a few months ago. He told me he was searching the catacombs for his father’s corpse. He claimed the man died in the tunnels during World War II, but his body was never recovered.”

  “Lies,” Marcel spat.

  “Unfortunately, I believed him. I’m lucky I brought the man back to the hideout to meet Marcel. He recognized Fitzroy at once.”

  “Louis Fitzroy used to work for my father,” Marcel explained.

  “Marcel’s father is a policeman,” Etienne added. “As a matter of fact, he’s head of the force that patrols the catacombs.”

  “Interesting,” Kiki said, regarding Marcel through new and narrowed eyes. “And that man who just passed was once one of his subordinates?”

  “Yes,” Marcel said. “Do you remember the police officer who discovered a movie theater inside the tunnels? That was Fitzroy—he was the man who tried to convince the world that the Darkness Dwellers exist. My father humiliated him, and now he’s looking for a way to repair his reputation.”

  “What do you think Fitzroy’s really after?” Kiki asked.

  “Proof that the Darkness Dwellers are real!” Marcel exclaimed. “Proof that he’s not an idiot as my father claims!”

  “Fitzroy must think that Marcel and I can help him,” Etienne added. “He’s been snooping around, trying to find his way back to my hideout.”

  “Where is your hideout?” Kiki asked.

  “You’re in it.” Etienne flipped on his flashlight.

  It was a small, egg-shaped space. The domed ceiling was just high enough for Marcel to stand without stooping. The walls were perfectly smooth and covered in a reflective paint that made the entire room glow. There was a comfortable sofa, several bookshelves, and an Oriental rug.

  “Remarkable,” Kiki said.

  “I’ve been working on it for years,” Etienne explained. “I was twelve when I found the room. I knew it would make the perfect hideout. There are three narr
ow entrances, so it’s easy to come and go. The first thing I did was camouflage all of them. And then I cut windows through the rock so I can see who’s in the tunnels nearby.” He lifted a wooden flap to reveal one of the tiny holes he’d bored into the walls. “I think the next step will be electricity. It would be nice to have a small fridge and a television down here.” He suddenly stopped, blushing at the way Kiki was watching him. “You must find this all very silly.”

  “Not at all,” Kiki replied. “I think it’s fantastic.” She couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away from the thin, dark-haired boy.

  “Well, I’m bored,” Marcel announced. “Isn’t there a party we should be attending?”

  It felt as though they had walked for hours before the sound of music reached their ears. Soon, a faint glow appeared in the tunnel ahead, and they followed the light to its source. The enormous room was oval in shape, with a row of theater seats along its perimeter. A web of wires clung to the ceiling and dozens of naked bulbs dangled from cords like luminous spiders. Black-and-white movies lit up the walls while a three-piece band played at maximum volume. The guests represented every walk of life. There were young men with dreadlocks and older men wearing ties. Women in camouflage jumpsuits and others dressed in designer heels. The only thing they all shared in common was a love of the dark, dangerous tunnels beneath Paris.

  A fierce-looking guard stopped Kiki and her friends at the entrance. He and Etienne took turns shouting into each other’s ears, and it seemed for a moment that the trio might not be welcomed inside.

  At last Etienne caught the attention of a lanky man dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a dinner jacket. He could have grown a garden in the dirt caked under his fingernails, and his wild hair and woolly goatee gave him the appearance of a middle-aged faun. The man came up and pinched Etienne’s cheek playfully. Then he exchanged a few words with the guard before leading his three guests into the party just as the band decided to take a break.

  “You’re out late,” the man teased Etienne. “I didn’t expect you to come. Don’t you have school in the morning? Who are your friends?”

  “Marcel and Kiki,” Etienne told him.

  “Welcome. My name is Phlegyas.”

  “Phlegyas is the leader of the Darkness Dwellers,” Etienne added.

  “I am merely one of the founders. We have no leader,” Phlegyas corrected as he shook Kiki’s hand. He seemed to be a patient man, but Kiki could tell that it wasn’t the first time he’d had to set Etienne straight.

  When Phlegyas offered his hand to Marcel, the boy could only grin stupidly.

  “He’s been asking to meet you for months,” Etienne explained when Marcel failed to find his tongue.

  “I’m flattered,” Phlegyas said. “I hear your father doesn’t believe we exist.”

  “You know who I am?” Marcel sputtered. “You know about my father?”

  “The Darkness Dwellers judge people on their own merits. It makes no difference to us who your father is. If Etienne trusts you, I see no reason why we shouldn’t do the same. He told me that you two have been working on another project somewhere in Paris. I’m looking forward to reading about it in the newspapers.”

  “The news will be good, this time,” Etienne promised.

  “I’m sure it will. For now, I’m pleased that you have work that will keep you away from the catacombs. I’m afraid they are not safe at the moment.”

  “Were they ever safe?” Kiki asked.

  “No,” Phlegyas admitted. “But until recently, most of the people who disappeared in the tunnels were victims of their own carelessness. Now it seems there may be something more sinister at work.”

  “What do you mean?” Marcel asked.

  “You’ve heard about the bones that were stolen from the ossuary and shipped to New York? The ones that were seized by French customs officials?” Phlegyas asked, and the three young people nodded. “The Darkness Dwellers have been investigating the thefts. After all, we are the guardians of the catacombs.”

  “You are?” Marcel blurted out. “What about the police?”

  “Please do not take this as an insult to your father, Marcel, but the catacomb police are incompetent,” Phlegyas said. “When we learned that skeletons had been seized by customs officials, the Darkness Dwellers sent members to patrol the ossuary. They discovered strange symbols on the walls. A test tube. A joker’s hat. A house. The paint was almost invisible to the naked eye. It appeared clearly only under a black light.”

  “Who do you think drew the symbols?” Etienne asked.

  “I wish I knew. The bones have always attracted strange sorts. As long as they aren’t vandals or thieves, the Darkness Dwellers usually let them go about their business. But the people responsible for the symbols may have attacked one of our members last week. The man left for night duty in the ossuary and was discovered unconscious the next morning. He says he never saw the person who assaulted him.”

  “Did he file a report?” Marcel asked.

  “With your father? What should he have told the head of the Catacomb Patrol? That he belongs to a group that the police insist are an urban legend? That he broke the law by visiting the tunnels and was attacked by a man he never saw? The Darkness Dwellers must handle this on our own.”

  “But isn’t the ossuary open to the public?” Kiki asked. “Shouldn’t everyone in Paris be warned of the danger?”

  “As luck would have it, the ossuary was closed to visitors earlier this week. A species of beetle has infested the area, and the authorities must send in exterminators. So for the moment, the public is not at risk. Until the mystery is solved, however, I would like the three of you to avoid the ossuary at all costs.”

  “We will,” Etienne promised.

  “I’m just here as a tourist,” Kiki assured the woolly man. As much as she would have enjoyed a little detective work, she had far more pressing matters to consider.

  “And you?” Phlegyas asked Marcel. “Will you stay out of the ossuary?”

  “Sure, I guess,” Marcel replied, as if his mind were elsewhere.

  “Excellent. In return for your cooperation, Monsieur Roche, let me show you around and introduce you to a few of our members.” He took the blond boy by the shoulder and led him through the party.

  Marcel glanced back at Etienne as if there were something he desperately needed to say.

  “It sounds like you might have a real problem down here,” Kiki remarked once the others were gone.

  “Whatever it is, Phlegyas will handle it,” Etienne replied.

  “You admire him a great deal,” Kiki observed. “How did the two of you first meet?”

  “Four years ago, Les Taupes and I found Phlegyas trapped in one of the tunnels. Part of the ceiling had collapsed and a rock had broken his ankle. A couple of us helped him get to the hospital, and since then he’s been like an older brother to me.”

  “A brother who won’t let you join his club.”

  “Well …” Etienne sighed. “He says I’m not ready yet. You know how brothers can be. Sometimes they’re the last people to take you seriously.” He led Kiki over to the chairs that circled the perimeter of the room. When they sat down, the room turned into a forest of limbs. It almost felt like they were alone.

  “Why doesn’t Phlegyas think you’re ready?”

  “He says I’m too much of a loner, and he wasn’t happy with the way I dealt with my old gang, Les Taupes. He thought I should have forgiven them for getting caught in the catacombs. He told me that one day I’d discover that I need other people just as much as they need me. I think that’s why he was so pleased to see I brought friends tonight.”

  “Which brings us to the subject of Marcel,” Kiki said. “How did you end up friends with the son of the man in charge of the Catacomb Patrol?”

  “I met Marcel for the first time about a year ago. He was always lurking around the entrances to the catacombs. It was obvious he was hoping someone would take him inside. Most of the people he approached w
eren’t very nice to him. I suppose I don’t blame them. Everyone who visits the catacombs is breaking the law, and word got out that Marcel’s father works for the police. But after a while, I began to feel sorry for him, so I finally offered to give him a tour. The whole time he wouldn’t stop talking about the Darkness Dwellers and how much he dreamed of being a member. When he told me he was good with his hands, I thought he might be the perfect person to help me repair one of Paris’s old treasures. Unfortunately, Marcel exaggerated his skills. As always, I would have been better off on my own.”

  “So, you and Marcel haven’t known each other that long?”

  “No. We don’t exactly run in the same circles. Marcel is lucky—he’s just an ordinary guy.”

  “And you’re not?”

  Etienne shook his head sadly. “I was born with obligations.”

  “For instance?” Kiki probed.

  “For instance, I may not have the pleasure of your company tomorrow night. There’s an event that my mother tells me I must attend.”

  “An event?”

  Etienne grimaced. “A ball thrown for a horrible girl. The sort of person who would slap a bellhop for denting her luggage. But because she’s a princess, my mother insists that I introduce myself. She would love nothing better than to make a match between us. Now perhaps you can understand why I prefer to live life underground.”

  “Do you usually spend a great deal of time with royalty?” Kiki inquired.

  “Unfortunately, I cannot escape them,” Etienne said. “My full name is Etienne Antoine. My father is the Duc de Lutèce.34 Someday I will inherit his title.”

  “So that’s how you managed to pay for those gas masks,” Kiki replied with a grin. “And your princess? Who’s she?”

  “Katarina,” Etienne spat out the name. “Katarina, Princess of Pokrovia.”

  If Kiki could have turned any whiter, she would have. “And you’re supposed to meet her tomorrow night? At a ball here in Paris? That’s impossible.”

  “I wish it were,” Etienne said. “But her aunt had tea with my mother just yesterday, and my attendance was requested. I’m afraid I can’t back out now.”