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“We’re damned for certain now.”
“I was already damned.” Ramsey grabbed Gabrielle and pulled her inside, slamming the door shut behind them. He would have locked it, buying them time, but the lock was twisted now and there was no way to secure it. “It won’t take the patrol long to figure out where we’ve gone.”
“We need a place to hide.”
Old churches had dozens of hiding places. Ramsey ran inside, guided by candlelight in the sanctuary. A huge organ dominated the front of the sanctuary. “What about in there?”
“Why not? Let’s find the stairs.”
They ran to the back of the sanctuary, through the doors, and encountered only steps going down. The organ steps must be behind the pulpit. “Damn it!”
“Should we go back?”
“No time.” He took her hand and dragged her down the steps. They encountered an old cellar filled with dusty crates and stacks of moldy books. Vestments hung on one side, already showing signs of deterioration. Now that the Cult of Reason had taken God’s place, few dared to attend church anymore. Though the candles burning in the sanctuary were testament that not everyone had given up on God.
“There’s nowhere to hide!” Gabrielle said, panic in her voice. He knew why. He too had heard the sounds of footsteps in the sanctuary above them. “It won’t take them long to realize where we’ve gone.”
Trapped. Ramsey wished he’d thrown the cursed bracelet into the fire when he had the chance. Now he moved the vestments aside, making a small place for them to crouch, then paused when he saw the wood plank on the floor. He unlatched it and lifted it. A cool, musty breeze floated up.
“Les carrières deParis,” Gabrielle said behind him.
The quarries, he realized. This church must be old indeed to have an entrance to the network of underground limestone and gypsum mines. Ramsey had heard the revolutionary government was piling them with bodies as the cemeteries were full. More footsteps on the stairs, and Ramsey ducked his head into the passageway. There was no ladder, but the drop was only a few feet. He jumped down and held his hands up for Gabrielle. She paused—the first time he had seen her do so on this daft mission—then whatever held her back passed, and she lowered herself into his arms.
While he held her, she reached up, pulled the plank back over the opening, and they were pitched into darkness. “Let’s go,” he whispered.
“How will we find our way back?”
“I’m more concerned about them finding us at the moment.”
His hand around hers was a vise as he pulled her deeper into the catacombs. He held his hands out, navigating by touch rather than by sight.
“We’ll die down here,” she murmured. “We’ll never find our way out.”
“And you were angry with me for bringing up the curse.” He almost bumped into a wall, felt around it, and pulled her deeper. The sounds of the patrol had faded. They either hadn’t found the hidden entrance or weren’t following.
“I’m sorry. I’m scared of…the dark.”
She wasn’t scared of the dark, but she didn’t want to admit what it was that frightened her. Hell, he wasn’t exactly feeling cheery about the way things were progressing at the moment. He kept moving deeper into the tunnels. They would have to search for another exit. The patrols would keep someone in the church to watch for their return, so they could not go back that way. These old quarries ran for miles and miles. They might very well be down here for some time.
He had a tinderbox with him, had stuffed one he saw in Alex’s drawing room into his pocket before they left, but he didn’t want to use it until he was more certain they were near an exit.
A loud crash sounded, and Gabrielle stumbled and fell. Ramsey lost her hand, but found it again quickly. “Are you hurt?” He bent to take her shoulders.
“No. I tripped on something.” He could feel her body moving, knew she was feeling about. “I think it’s a…lantern. And a few blankets. Someone must have hidden here before. Alex said enemies of the republic could escape through the catacombs.”
Ramsey used the flint and metal to light theamadouin the box and studied the ground. She had stumbled into what looked like a crude habitation. There were indeed several blankets, a lantern, and some shriveled, desiccated fruit.
“Does the lantern have oil?”
She peered inside. “Yes!”
Now they would see if the oil was still viable. He pulled the wick higher and lit the tallow. A small, yellow light illuminated the chamber. Ramsey studied it. Graffiti decorated the walls—names, curses, and lewd drawings.
“A fire and artwork too,” Gabrielle said with a laugh. She pointed to one drawing. “Is that position even possible?”
Ramsey winked. “I’ll show you later.” But he was searching the small chamber for any type of opening. “There must be an exit nearby. We’ve walked for the better part of an hour. I don’t think whoever made these entered through the church.”
“Shall we keep searching?”
