Page 59 of Quintus

“Pas d'hôtel. Aller au parc pour rencontrer un ami.” The lie rolled off her tongue. While it was true she was going to the park, she wasn’t meeting a friend. Nor was she going to a hotel.

“Oui.”

Gabriella stared out the window, disconnected from the conversation. Determined to get the bones of the first witch, she’d left on her own. After leaving the shower water running, she’d employed a simple cloaking spell, disappearing from Quintus’ home.

On her way out the temptation was too great, and she’d followed voices. But as she approached, she heard the female and sensed the magick. In a stolen glance, she’d seen Quintus touching her breast. She’d fought the nausea, her wolf itching to shift, to attack. But she’d prevailed, taming the beast, and took off unnoticed. Quintus had guarded his home, but she’d easily passed through the doors. She suspected that since he’d drank her blood, the wards been compromised, allowing his mate free exit and entry.

As soon as she’d reached the lobby, she’d conjured suitable clothing for Paris. Although she’d booked a commercial flight, she’d realized he’d easily track her. Always selling her blood, she didn’t have much money, but she’d kept a credit card in case of an emergency. She’d broken the bank, and arranged for a private flight to Paris. She’d paid the pilot to divert the landing to a small private airport instead of Charles de Gaulle.

Momma, please help me, she prayed. Gabriella saw her mother in dreams, and was certain she still guided her magick. Although as a child she’d only learned simple spells, she’d meditate, and new magick would spill into her mind. She’d wished at times she’d grown up practicing her craft under the loving guidance of a knowledgeable witch, but alone on the streets, she hadn’t been afforded that luxury.

As the cab rolled to a stop, Gabriella steeled her nerves. Lightning flashed followed by a booming roll of thunder. She glanced outside at the ominous weather. Although she’d be protected from the elements underground, she’d hardly be safe.

“Merci.” Gabriella handed the driver several bills without confirming her fare and shoved out of the cab into the driving rain.

She scanned the area for paranormal activity but didn’t sense active magick. Pedestrians buried their heads under umbrellas ignoring Gabriella as she stepped onto a path that led into a city park. She tugged at her collar, attempting to shield her face from rain. Cold drops pelted her mercilessly as she searched for an entrance.

As she turned a corner, she noted the manhole next to a fountain. Thank Goddess. While on the plane, she’d researched different entry points into the catacombs. Although tourists entered into a formal cordoned-off area, others frequently trespassed through unconventional means.

Drenched, she fell to her knees and placed her palms onto the manhole cover. She fingered the keyhole, attempting to lift it, but it wouldn’t budge. Try to use a spell, Gabby. Be smart. As a child, opening locked objects had been fun, but under stress she struggled to remember how to do it.

“Come on. Open for me.” In her mind’s eye, she imagined it levitating. As if her hands were magnets, they pressed to the cold metal. She blinked away the rain, and blew out a breath as the heavy cover lifted inches, allowing her to wrap her fingers around its rims.

“Oh thank you!” she exclaimed, shocked that it had moved. With both hands gripped tight on the edge, she flipped the lid over, exposing a dark hole.

A knot formed in her stomach as she stared down into the darkness. Danger waited below, but the bones of the first witch called to her like a siren. Daughter of a witch, from a long line of witches, she was destined to end the coven’s hold on her. She’d break the cycle and take down the high priestess.

Courage filled her chest as she swung a leg into the pit, her toe catching a rung of the steel ladder. Please Goddess, protect me, she prayed, slowly descending into the abyss. Hand under hand she gripped the cold metal bars. As she lowered herself into the ground, dank air wafted into her nostrils. How much longer? She estimated she’d descended three stories when her foot finally hit solid earth.

Gabriella reached inside her jacket and flicked on a small flashlight she’d purchased at the airport. As her eyesight adjusted to the dim light, she scanned her surroundings. Graffiti painted the limestone walls of the open bunker. An empty wine bottle and cigarette butts littered the floor. Four arched tunnels led into the darkness, and she sighed, unsure of which one to follow.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on her childhood, opening channels of her magick she’d long kept closed. The joyous celebration of the moon she’d enjoyed as a child had turned deadly once she’d shifted. But long before her wolf surfaced, her mother had included her in her rituals, exposing her to witchcraft. Gabriella smiled and pictured her mother happily adding various items to her altar such as herbs and candles.

As Gabriella’s eyes blinked open, a sparkle of light flicked in the far-right tunnel. She cautiously stepped inside, careful not to trip on the crumbled pieces of stone in her path. In the 1700s, millions of corpses had been moved from cemeteries and put into the catacombs. Although most of the bones had been meticulously arranged in the ossuary during the late eighteenth century, the museum was only a small portion of the labyrinth. With hundreds of miles of tunnels, she hoped her intuition guided her well.

Gabriella passed through an antechamber and stilled as she approached a gate. Through iron bars, she spied thousands of bones, the femurs and skulls artistically lining the tunnel. She detected whispers on the lips of those who she suspected were humans touring the museum.

As she moved into the darkness, the hum of a familiar energy sizzled over her skin, and she detected the life force of her ancestors. Although recognizable, she didn’t sense danger as she deliberately trekked toward its source. Like a repeating mantra, it called to her. Minutes morphed into hours as she put one foot in front of the other, moving toward the energy. Lost deep within the labyrinth, Gabriella lost track of time and space as she sought out the bones.

She passed into a chamber, noting large swatches of black paint haphazardly splashed across the walls. Gabriella placed her palms onto the cold stone, and startled as the energy jolted through her. Like watching a movie, picture frames flashed in her mind’s eye. Blood. Sacrifice. The face of a priestess slitting the throat of a human. Her eyes blinked open, her heart pounding in her chest. The first witch.

But as she went to step further into the tunnel, her hopes sank at the sight of the dead end. A small opening in the stone wall caught her attention, and the energy zipped through her once again. Murmurs echoed her name, and she found herself moving toward the hole. Why though? Dammit, I don’t want to go in there.

As she hoisted herself inside, she sucked a breath and prayed nothing creepy crawly touched her. A dead spider for an ingredient was fine every now and then but she’d lose her shit if one decided to make a live appearance. The walls tightened around her body as she shimmied through the roughened limestone, her pant leg tearing as it caught a jagged edge. She breathed in relief as her head breached the wall into an open space. Her palms reached for the floor and she slid downward and tumbled onto the ground.

Gabriella shoved to her feet and shone the flashlight into the darkened alcove. Negative vibrations rolled over her, a dark ancient energy bouncing in the air. There was no escape from the triangular room, its peaked ceiling forming a pyramid. Unlike the Louvre, not one speck of light entered, its walls unmarred by intruders. As she ran her fingers over the smooth stone, she noted a rupture in its surface. Upon closer inspection, a thin marble inset intersected the seam of two walls.

Drawn to its vibrations, Gabriella reached for the stone, but as her fingers brushed over its etching, a familiar energy seized her. Quintus.

“You’re in trouble, little wolf.” His deep voice echoed in the chamber.

“I…you…I…” Although his scent soothed her wolf, the fire in his eyes ignited panic in her chest.

“Cat got your tongue? You seemed quite brave, leaving my house back there. Did you really think you could escape me?”

“I saw you with her. You touched her.” Courage blossomed in her chest, white-hot anger flaring as she recalled seeing his hands on Mao’s bare body.

“What you saw wasn’t of my doing. She used black magick. There’s nothing between us. But you, Gabriella? You’re mine. We are bonded,” he told her.