The Darkness Dwellers

by Kirsten Miller

  “You have a plan?” Kiki asked skeptically.

  “That is enough, Katarina,” Verushka scolded. “It seems you have a great deal to learn as well.”

  With their friends and Sidonia finally in hiding, Betty and Marcel were the only ones left to greet the policemen who flooded into the coliseum. Guns out, fingers on the triggers, a dozen officers surrounded the two young people standing in the center of the room. Philip Roche made a beeline toward his son, the confusion on his face quickly turning to fury. A woman with a camera followed two steps behind him. Just before she reached Marcel and Betty, she stopped and snapped a photo of the pair. Philip Roche had brought along a journalist to document his finest hour.

  “What is this?” he hissed at Marcel. “Where are the Darkness Dwellers?”

  “Who?” his son asked, his brow furrowed with confusion.

  Philip Roche turned to the journalist with a phony laugh. “My son appears to be playing a trick on me,” he said.

  “That’s your son?” The woman was all business as she scribbled a few words in her reporter’s notebook. “Who is the girl?”

  Right on cue, Betty broke into theatrical tears, and Marcel patted her on the back. “Go ahead. You can tell them,” he assured her.

  “My name is Betty. I was lost in the ossuary. Three men tried to kill me. Marcel saved my life.”

  “Where is the Princess of Pokrovia?” Philip Roche demanded, clearly uninterested in hearing the tale of an ordinary girl’s brush with death.

  “Who?” Marcel asked.

  “There were men trying to kill you?” the journalist inquired, moving closer to Betty as if she’d just caught the scent of a juicy story.

  “Yes,” Betty whimpered.

  “Their names are Guillaume, François, and Pierre Corbeaux, and they run an ‘anatomical supply shop,’” Marcel informed the journalist, handing her the men’s business card. “They’re the ones who’ve been stealing bones from the ossuary. And according to their own records, they’ve kidnapped and murdered at least three people in the past few months.”

  “They were going to steal my skeleton!” Betty cried. “And put it in a powder room!”

  “This is madness,” Philip Roche growled. “I am terribly sorry. My son, Marcel, has a very active imagination.”

  “Your son also has proof.” Marcel handed the journalist the black doctor’s bag he had taken from the butcher. “These are the Corbeaux brothers’ tools. There’s a journal inside that lists everything they’ve stolen from the catacombs—and the people who’ve been purchasing their gruesome wares.”

  The journalist rifled through the bag and pulled out Guillaume Corbeaux’s leather-bound journal. Her eyes grew wider as she flipped through the pages. “How did you get this?” she asked in astonishment.

  “I took it from one of the brothers. Right after I ambushed all three of them.”

  “After you did what?” Philip Roche sputtered.

  “I ambushed them and bound them with duct tape. All three are waiting in the ossuary to be arrested,” Marcel said. “Follow the man-eating beetles, and look for a room with a plastic tarpaulin spread out on the floor. They were planning to remove this girl’s flesh and let the bugs clean her bones overnight.”

  “This is incredible!” the journalist proclaimed. “Grave robbers, murderers, and body snatchers working right here beneath the streets of Paris! It will be the story of the decade! And you, young Monsieur Roche, will be proclaimed a great hero.”

  “No,” Marcel insisted, surprising even Betty. “I don’t want my name to be mentioned at all. The credit can go to my father instead. He’s the reason I first came to the catacombs. I wanted to be just like him. He deserves to be the man with his face in the papers.”

  It appeared that Philip Roche couldn’t have agreed more. “All right, men,” he called out, his chest puffed with pride. “We are needed in the ossuary!”

  The police officers marched out of the coliseum, and the journalist hurried behind them. Philip Roche lingered behind for a private word with his son.

  “You’ve done a great thing, Marcel,” he informed the boy. “The Catacomb Patrol should be pleased to welcome you when you come of age. Who knows? Perhaps you’ll grow to be a man like your father after all.”

  “I have no interest in being like you, Papa,” Marcel said coldly. “We both know you deserve no praise for protecting the catacombs.”

  The older man recoiled. “Then why did you want me to take credit for the arrests?”

  “Because you’re going to do me two favors in return. First, you’re going to drop all charges against Louis Fitzroy. I want the detective released immediately. Then, you’re going to forget anything you’ve ever heard about the Darkness Dwellers. And whenever they’re mentioned, you will continue to insist that a group by that name does not exist.”

  “How dare you give me orders?”

  Marcel took a menacing step toward his father. “Do as I say, or I will go straight to the press. I will tell every paper in Paris that you refused to investigate the atrocities that were taking place in the catacombs. More people might have died because you were too incompetent to take action.”

  “You would stoop to blackmailing your own father? Do you know what this will do to our family?”

  “You may be my father, but that doesn’t make us family,” Marcel said. “I’ll find another family someday. One that wants to have me as a member.”

  Marcel’s father regarded the boy with contempt. “Bonne chance,” he said with a laugh. “Who would want you?”

  The boy didn’t flinch, and he didn’t fight back. There was no need.

  “You’d better hurry to the ossuary, Monsieur Roche,” Betty said in a voice that was no longer tremulous. “You wouldn’t want those beetles to eat the Corbeaux brothers before you manage to make the arrests.”

  Philip Roche shot the girl a curious look before he turned and raced away.

  “I’m very proud of you,” Betty told Marcel.

  “I couldn’t have done any of this without your help,” Marcel replied.

  “Yes, you could have,” Betty assured him. “You just didn’t know it.”

  Once the catacombs were quiet, the two young people hurried to the fourth tunnel and found it filled to capacity. The Darkness Dwellers were so tightly packed together that there wouldn’t have been space for another soul. In fact, while Philip Roche’s men focused on Betty and Marcel, the toes of Phlegyas’s boots had been poking out of the shadows.

  “You’ll be able to make your escape now,” Marcel announced. “The police have left for the ossuary. The tunnels that lead in all other directions are safe.”

  None of the Darkness Dwellers made a move.

  “We couldn’t help but eavesdrop, Marcel,” Phlegyas said, speaking for the crowd behind him. “Is it true that you single-handedly captured three killers in the ossuary?”

  “No,” Marcel admitted. “Betty and I ambushed them together. I knocked one of the men unconscious, she beat up another, and the last one we both clobbered.”

  “How did you guys manage to subdue three men?” Kiki asked Betty. “Were they all unarmed?”

  Betty merely smiled at the veiled insult. “They were carrying all the tools they needed to strip the flesh off of bones.”

  “They were planning to use those tools on your cousin,” Marcel explained, pointing to the dirty, gagged Princess. “Her skeleton could have ended up as a conversation piece in some rich man’s house.”

  “And the two of you rescued her.” The shock seemed to be too much for Etienne.

  “I am not at all surprised.” Verushka squeezed Betty’s arm. “Sometimes the best soldiers are those who choose the right allies.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not quite ready to hand Marcel a medal just yet. I bet he wants something—he just hasn’t told us what it is yet.” Kiki glanced over at her cousin. “Let’s get Sidonia to the surface. She has a date with the police.”

  “Perhaps you can te
ll me what crimes she’s committed?” Verushka asked.

  Kiki stared at her guardian as if the woman had gone mad. “Kidnapping, attempted murder, identity theft …”

  “And your proof?” Verushka inquired.

  The truth seemed to hit Kiki right between the eyes. Now that she and Verushka were free, there was no evidence to back up her claims. The police were just as likely to arrest Kiki for kidnapping.

  “Looks like it’s time to move on to the next stage of my plan,” Betty announced.

  “This plan of yours has another stage?” Kiki asked.

  “Of course,” Betty replied. “And it’s a doozy.”

  Chapter 33

  An Offer She Couldn’t Refuse

  PARIS: SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 21

  The next stage of Betty Bent’s plan kicked off the next morning at seven a.m. It could have begun much earlier, but she needed her coconspirators to be rested and ready. Most of them hadn’t caught a wink in days and a few were too exhausted to make the long hike out of the tunnels. So while Betty kept careful watch for flesh-eating beetles, the team camped out on the floor of Etienne’s hideout. Sidonia demanded, but did not receive, a place on the couch. Verushka refused, but was given, the only comfortable bed in the catacombs. Etienne and Kiki curled up in a corner. Kiki tried her best to keep one eye fixed on Marcel, but eventually she, too, succumbed to sleep.

  Yet even after a reasonable slumber, Kiki continued to grumble. She was still listing her many reservations by the time Kiki and Betty had crammed themselves under the bed of room 709 at the Prince Albert Hotel. It was an uncomfortable fit, even for someone as tiny as Kiki. Betty’s ribs were squeezed between the box spring and the floor, and she worried that she wouldn’t be able to breathe if anyone were to plop down on the mattress.

  “I just don’t trust that boy,” Kiki mumbled.

  “You should,” Betty replied. “But it’s good that you don’t.”

  “Why?” Kiki demanded. She tried to shoot Betty a nasty look but couldn’t manage to turn her head.

  “Sidonia’s not stupid. She knows you can’t stand Marcel. You were pretty rude to him back in the catacombs.”

  “I reserve my manners for people who don’t try to have their friends arrested,” Kiki replied.

  “You’d have forgiven him more quickly if you weren’t in love with the boy he betrayed.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Shhh,” Betty said. “I think I hear them outside the door.”

  The girls lay with their chins mashed into the carpet, peeking under the bed skirt as six shoes caked in catacomb dirt entered the hotel room. A large trunk that once served as a coffee table in Etienne’s hideout was dumped down on the floor.

  “Take her out quickly.” The voice belonged to Verushka. “Kiki is waiting for me in the lobby.”

  The latches on the trunk were popped. The next thing Kiki and Betty heard was the sound of furious grunting.

  “Now lift Sidonia out and put her in the chair. Good. Very good. Etienne, you may come downstairs with me. Kiki would like to speak to you, too,” Verushka said. “Marcel, you stay here and keep an eye on the prisoner. Do not let her stand up, and do not remove the gag. If she behaves like a brat, put her right back in the trunk.”

  Two pairs of feet disappeared from view. The hotel room door slammed. A few minutes passed. The girls under the bed could hear someone opening drawers and rummaging through Betty’s belongings. Then Marcel spoke, his voice hushed and conspiratorial.

  “If I take the gag out of your mouth, do you promise not to scream?”

  “Mmuh mmuh!” the Princess agreed.

  “Okay, then.” There was a pause while Marcel untied the gag’s knot. “There you go.”

  “Does this mean you’re going to help me escape?” Sidonia asked in a sickly sweet tone of voice that was probably accompanied by a flutter of eyelashes.

  “I think you have the wrong idea, Princess,” Marcel replied. “You’re not my type, and I’m not in the market for a girlfriend.”

  Sidonia instantly dropped the act. “Then what do you want from me?”

  “I want to know if you’re interested in making a deal.”

  “What kind of a deal?” Sidonia responded warily.

  “I happened to be eavesdropping when you and Kiki were having your little spat in the catacombs. I heard your cousin mention some sort of cure. It sounded like the sort of thing that could be worth a great deal of money.”

  “Oh that,” Sidonia said dismissively. “The elf claimed she had a cure for baldness. She wanted to trade it for the old servant’s life.”

  “If I recall correctly, Kiki said that a friend of hers had delivered the cure to Paris, and she told you it was at the Prince Albert Hotel. Well, this is her friend Betty’s room. And look what I just found in Betty’s suitcase.”

  “Is that it?” Sidonia gasped. “Let me see it! No, bring it closer so I can read the label!”

  “I don’t read much English,” said Marcel. “But whatever is inside this jar looks disgusting enough to actually work. Your mother is bald, is she not? And forgive me for saying so, but your hair appears to be thinning as well.”

  “Really?” Sidonia sounded horrified.

  “Looks like you left a bunch of it behind in the trunk,” said Marcel.

  “How much do you want for that jar?” Sidonia asked eagerly.

  “How much do you have?” Marcel replied. “I’d like to leave Paris as quickly as possible. You heard what happened yesterday in the catacombs. There’s no reason for me to stay here. My father despises me, and my only friend is in love with a girl I can’t stand. But if I do decide to leave Paris, I intend to do it in style. So how much are you willing to pay to keep your pretty hair?”

  “I would need to make a few phone calls to find out how much I can afford. …”

  “No,” Marcel announced. “If I wanted other people involved, I would make a few phone calls myself. I’m only offering the cure to you because your nasty little cousin nearly ensured I die childless. But there must be plenty of very wealthy people who would like to purchase a product like this.”

  “No, please,” Sidonia implored. “Just let me think.” A pause followed. “My mother has jewelry. She’s right upstairs in room 836. I can’t give you cash—but I can give you a fortune in diamonds and pearls.”

  “Fake,” Kiki muttered under her breath.

  They heard the sound of Marcel picking up the phone. “Room 836,” he told the operator. A minute passed before he hung up. “Good. No one is answering the phone in your mother’s room. Let’s go.”

  “But I don’t have a key,” Sidonia said.

  “We’ll find a maid to let us inside.”

  “You’ll have to untie my hands before we go anywhere,” Sidonia insisted.

  “Don’t make the same mistake your cousin made, Princess. I’m not as stupid as I look,” Marcel told her. “I borrowed a shawl from Betty’s bag. We’ll put it over your shoulders and no one will ever know your hands are bound. Once we’re in your mother’s room, you’ll show me where to find the jewels. Before I go, I will allow you to phone her. Then I will leave you in the room with the cure. Your mother can liberate you when she returns.”

  “You know I can’t wait that long! The elf will start hunting for me the second she knows I’ve escaped.”

  “I’m sure she will. And where’s the last place Kiki would look?”

  “I don’t know,” Sidonia said.

  Marcel snorted. “Here at the hotel! You and your mother should lock yourselves in her room for a few days. You’ll be perfectly safe as long as you’re here.”

  “And leave my cousin free to do as she likes? She’ll be on the first plane to Pokrovia! We can’t let her get there!”

  “You weren’t planning to capture Kiki yourself, were you? Send someone else to hunt her down. Meanwhile, you and your mother can enjoy a little girl time. Give each other mani-pedis. Isn’t that what ladies do?”

  “Are you
insane?” spat Sidonia. “I’ve never given anyone a manicure in my life.”

  “Then perhaps you could both give Kiki’s cure a try. See if it does any good. Once Kiki is captured and the coast is clear, you’ll be able to claim your throne. By the time you arrive in Pokrovia, you and your mother will both have full heads of hair. Does that scenario sound appealing to you?”

  “If this is a trick, I swear I will have your head.”

  “Yes, well, you’ll just have to take the risk and find out. So, what do you say, Your Highness? Do we have an agreement?”

  The deal had been brokered, and Marcel made sure the door slammed loudly behind him. Kiki and Betty wriggled out from under the bed.

  “Marcel did a great job, right?” Betty asked.

  “Slightly better than average, I’d say,” Kiki offered reluctantly.

  “Do you think Verushka had enough time to slip into her maid disguise?” Betty asked. “The plan won’t work unless she can let Marcel into Livia’s room.”

  “I’ve seen Verushka hop into a costume and glue on a nose in forty seconds flat,” Kiki said. “I’m not worried about Verushka.”

  “I know you would have preferred to take Sidonia to the police,” Betty commiserated. “But Verushka made it clear why we can’t do it today. All we have to do is keep your cousin and aunt in Paris for the next two days. That’s enough time for you to fly to Pokrovia and get back to France with the proof that will send them both to jail.”

  “You’re sure Sidonia and Livia are going to stay put in that hotel room for forty-eight hours? As soon as they hear that I’ve renounced the throne of Pokrovia, Livia and her spawn will know they need to skip town.”

  “Trust me. They’re not going anywhere. You didn’t see DeeDee’s face after she’d sampled the cure. She just used a teeny, tiny bit and she looked like my neighbor’s affenpinscher. There’s no way Sidonia and Livia will want to be seen in public after they rub that stuff all over their heads. I told you—DeeDee had to go through five rounds of laser treatment just to get rid of her beard.”

  “Yeah, and your plan made perfect sense when I was too tired to think. But what’s going to stop Livia and Sidonia from having their beards removed?”