The Darkness Dwellers Read online

  Few noises reached the top of her tower, but ten police cars with sirens wailing tend to make quite a racket. Instinct told Kiki that someone had come to her rescue. And she couldn’t allow that to happen. She unlocked the door and was down the stairs in time to see Livia’s guard making a run for it. As he sprinted down the dark nave toward the apse of the ancient church, four men with guns and flashlights stayed hot on his heels.

  Taking advantage of the diversion, Kiki slid along the wall of the church’s western aisle and ducked behind a tomb that was topped with a sculpture of a roly-poly nobleman dressed in the metal suit of a medieval knight. Lying on one side, with his head propped up on one hand, he looked a lot like an armadillo watching TV.

  Standing on tiptoe, Kiki peeked over the sculpture’s bulging flank. I know better than anyone how hard it is to surprise her. So I would have given just about anything to see Kiki’s face when she saw Marcel Roche stroll into the church with a SWAT team behind him.

  “The girl is upstairs in the tower,” Marcel told the men in French. Gone was the scruffy blond oaf Kiki had met in the tower. Just as she’d suspected, that version of Marcel had been little more than an act. But somehow the bold young man who’d replaced him didn’t seem any more genuine.

  A half-dozen police officers charged up the stairs with weapons drawn. Kiki heard the wood splinter as they kicked in the door at the top. Not a minute later, the men returned empty-handed.

  “There’s no one inside the tower,” one of the officers reported.

  Shaken by the announcement, Marcel’s façade began to crack.

  “I’m not surprised.” A distinguished-looking gentleman had arrived in the church. He wore his navy suit like a uniform, and his black hair was cut as short as a soldier’s. Kiki could see he was the sort of man who needed the world to acknowledge his authority. “Did you find any evidence that the tower has been recently occupied?” he asked the officers.

  “We found this, sir.” One of the officers held up a frilly pink dress and a matching hair bow.

  The man took the dress from the officer and rubbed the fabric between his fingers. “Polyester,” he announced before he turned to face Marcel. “You told me the girl was someone important.”

  “She is!” Marcel insisted. “What difference does a dress make? She was important enough to kidnap! And she looks just like that princess who’s been in the papers.”

  “Whoever the girl was, she appears to be gone. I believe you’ve been fooled, Marcel. Some neighborhood child has played a prank on you.”

  “But the guard!” Marcel protested.

  “Ah yes, the guard—if that’s really what he is. I suspect he may be nothing more than a harmless old drunk seeking shelter from the cold. Still, we will hold him on trespassing charges. If we cannot elicit a confession, we will not be able to keep the man in custody.”

  “Papa,” Marcel tried. “We can’t wait for the guard to be questioned. We can’t wait another moment. Terrible things have been happening in the ossuary. For once, please listen to me!”

  Papa? Kiki crouched down behind the tomb when she saw the older man take his son by the elbow and guide the boy toward the church’s western aisle for what he thought was a private chat. Once he was certain that no one was listening, the man’s tone turned vicious.

  “Listen to what, Marcel? I have heard enough of your crazed ramblings for one day. Princesses locked in bell towers? A secret group that builds underground cinemas? Sinister forces at work in the catacombs? They’re nothing but the fantasies of a silly little boy. You’ve spent months trying to convince me that the Darkness Dwellers are real. Then you said you were investigating some bone thefts. And now you change your tune and insist that worse crimes are being committed in the ossuary—right under my nose.”

  “Someone was attacked! Two girls could be dead! I’m trying to help, Papa!”

  “By making me look like an idiot? You say you would like to join the police? This is no way to prove that you deserve such an honor! My men respect me and do as they are told. Those who let their imaginations run wild are dismissed. You’re just like your mother, Marcel. Your mind is infected by fancy.”

  “Everything I’ve told you is true! I spoke to the leader of the Darkness Dwellers last night! Phlegyas warned me to stay out of the ossuary. He thinks strange rites are being performed there. And you were the one who told me about the two girls who vanished in that same part of the catacombs!”

  “Yes, and as always, there is a perfectly sensible explanation. The girls were foolish enough to break the law, and they were foolish enough to get lost. We will find them or their bodies eventually.”

  “What if you’re wrong, Papa? What if more people vanish in the ossuary?”

  “That portion of the tunnels will be closed to the public for the next three weeks. I’ve been informed that there’s a rather unfortunate bug problem.”

  “You know that won’t keep people out! You can’t depend on a group of vigilantes to protect the catacombs!”

  Marcel’s father let his eyes tour the surroundings, ensuring that no one had heard Marcel’s outburst. Then he took a step forward and hissed at his son. “I am Philip Roche, the head of Catacomb Patrol. I alone protect the tunnels! I deal with facts, not fantasies! And there is not one scrap of evidence that you haven’t lost your mind. You said there was a girl in this church who would be able to support your story. For once I believed you, and now I look like a fool.”

  “Then take Etienne in for questioning!” Marcel urged. “Threaten to arrest him, and he will convince you this isn’t a fantasy!”

  “How many times must I tell you, Marcel? That is not a solution! Your friend comes from a powerful family. His father is the Duc de Lutèce! I cannot question Etienne about a group of people who do not exist. His parents could arrange to have me dismissed from the force. I’m afraid that this has all been a terrible disappointment, Marcel. Let’s not prolong the embarrassment. Allons-y!” he shouted out to his men.

  “But Papa!” Marcel begged.

  “Tais-toi!” his father barked, his voice echoing down the aisle. “You say you want to be like me? Then act like a man and take responsibility for your failures!”

  The police officers marched out of the building, leaving Marcel all alone. Moonbeams pierced the stained-glass windows and formed puddles of heavenly blue light on the floor of the nave. But Marcel kept to the gloom of the aisle. Sitting on the edge of the nobleman’s tomb, his shoulders were hunched and his head hung in shame. Kiki suspected it wasn’t the first time that the boy had tried and failed to please his father. But in Kiki’s opinion, growing up with a tyrant was no excuse for turning into a snake. Etienne had shown Marcel nothing but kindness, and the boy had repaid him with treachery.

  If a close friend or a family member has ever tried to kill you, then loyalty is probably one of the traits you prize most in people. Kiki could be a bit fanatical on that particular subject. She seethed whenever she saw anyone stabbed in the back. Once, after a meeting, the Irregulars had attempted to watch The Count of Monte Cristo. The story of the hero’s betrayal left Kiki so furious that she’d stormed out of her very own house.

  While Marcel sat on the edge of the tomb, it took every ounce of restraint that Kiki could muster to remain hidden behind it. She would have loved to show the boy how she dealt with traitors. But Verushka Kozlova’s life expectancy had just been dramatically reduced. The guard the police had taken into custody worked for Livia Galatzina. As soon as he was able to make a phone call from the station, Kiki’s beloved guardian would be dead.

  She waited, desperate for a chance to slip outside unseen, but unlike Kiki, Marcel wasn’t in any hurry to leave. He watched the altar as if awaiting further instructions. He didn’t even turn when the door creaked open behind him.

  The moonlight followed Etienne through the entrance. Dressed in a classic tuxedo and black overcoat, he wore formal attire as effortlessly as he would a pair of jeans. On his way to the tower, h
e caught sight of the church’s other visitor. “Marcel? I thought I told you we wouldn’t be working tonight.”

  “Your friend is gone,” Marcel announced flatly.

  “Gone?” Etienne repeated, his dark brows knitting. “What do you mean, she’s gone?”

  Kiki’s ghostly white face rose from behind the nobleman’s tomb. “He means that I wasn’t twiddling my thumbs in the tower when he showed up here with the police,” she announced in French.

  Marcel gasped. Regardless of the news, Etienne couldn’t help but grin when he laid eyes on Kiki. “The police?”

  “That’s right. Marcel brought his father here to meet me.”

  Marcel sprang to his feet. “You’ve been in the church the whole time?”

  “Yes, and I heard every word that you said.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell my father I was speaking the truth!”

  “I don’t help traitors,” Kiki spat before turning to Etienne. “Marcel has been using you. He doesn’t give a crap about joining the Darkness Dwellers. He wants to be a policeman instead.”

  “Marcel? A policeman?” Etienne sputtered.

  “He thought he could impress papa by proving the Darkness Dwellers exist. When that didn’t pan out, he told his father about the attack in the ossuary. Marcel wanted me to back up his story, but unfortunately, I wasn’t available. So he told his father to arrest you.”

  “Is this true, Marcel?” Etienne demanded. “You wanted to have me arrested?”

  “No! I mean yes—but only because you won’t listen to reason, Etienne. The police need to know what’s going on in the tunnels.”

  “Excuses, excuses,” Kiki said. “Be a man and take responsibility for your failures.”

  “You agent provocateur!” Marcel snarled as he moved toward Kiki. “I’m taking you to my father right now. You’re going to tell him everything you know, or I’ll convince him you’re dangerous and have him lock you away.”

  When Marcel grabbed for Kiki’s arm, she latched on to his wrist, spun the large boy around, and flipped him over her shoulder. His landing was hard enough to crack two of the tiles beneath his rump.

  “You’re right about one thing. I am dangerous,” Kiki announced. “Here’s some advice for you. Your father is a jerk. You’ll never impress him. Stop trying or you’ll end up even worse than he is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to clean up the mess you’ve just made.”

  Kiki says that Paris is breathtaking in the early hours of the morning. The traffic quiets, and the tourists are tucked away in their beds. Golden lights transform ordinary buildings into fairytale castles. The Île-de-France becomes an enchanted island, and the bridges over the Seine seem like gateways to glittering realms. But that morning Kiki couldn’t be charmed. She knew an evil queen was slumbering somewhere in the magical kingdom. There were only a few hours left before daylight roused her. And when the queen awoke, Verushka Kozlova would die.

  Kiki started running even before she’d settled on a direction. She was almost at the river when she heard someone sprinting down the street behind her. She wheeled around, fists clenched and ready to fight.

  “Don’t punch me! I believe you!” Etienne kept his voice low. “I know you’re in trouble and I want to help. But first, can you please—please—tell me who you really are?”

  It was a perfectly reasonable question, but it happened to be one that Kiki rarely answered. The Irregulars had known her for years before any of us were trusted with the truth. And yet she decided to share her secret with a French boy whom she’d fancied for less than a week. A crush, it seems, can make even Kiki Strike reckless.

  “I am Katarina, Princess of Pokrovia. But my friends call me Kiki Strike.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Etienne said. “Now, where are we going?”

  THE FISHBEIN GUIDE TO … THE RENDEZVOUS

  And now we must address a subject that even I am still trying to master: How to behave at a rendezvous. (Some people would call these arranged meetings “dates.” Others prefer the term “hanging out.” But a rendezvous seems much more mysterious, don’t you think?)

  When you’re heading off to meet the person you’ve had your eye on …

  Don’t Wear a Disguise

  Do you find yourself changing into someone you barely recognize the second the person you like struts into the room? Do you act, speak, or eat differently than you usually would? If so … STOP IT RIGHT NOW! What’s the point? Are you worried you won’t be appreciated for who you really are? Maybe you will be—maybe you won’t. But no one can wear a disguise forever. Just be the wisecracking, giant-squid-loving, or cheeseburger-wolfing person you are.

  Bring Your Wallet, Your Brain, and Your Self-Respect

  There is one person on Earth upon whom you can always rely. Yourself. Be grateful when others show generosity toward you, but always be prepared to pay your own way, pack your own parachute, or change your own flat tires. Helplessness and greed are not attractive qualities.

  Show and Accept Common Courtesy

  I once watched a woman freak out in the lobby of a Manhattan office building because a gentleman had held a door open for her. From what I gathered, she seemed to find the gesture old-fashioned and insulting. This is insane. We should all open more doors, offer more subway seats, and treat the people we like to a little escargot now and then.

  Don’t Push It

  It doesn’t matter how fabulous you are, you’re going to have crushes on people who will never like you back. Have a little cry (in private), then move on. Do not argue, plead, or stalk. There’s someone better just around the bend.

  Chapter 20

  The Most Dangerous Game

  PARIS: THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 19, DAWN

  The sun was inching its way over the horizon. Kiki stood on the quay with the inky black waters of the Seine flowing below, her eyes locked with those of a boy she barely knew. A boy who suddenly possessed the secret she’d once have done almost anything to hide. Perhaps you’re thinking that it all sounds quite romantic. Combine sunrise, secrets, and the Seine and you’ll probably end up with the world’s most powerful love potion. But Kiki wasn’t in the mood to swoon. She knew that dawn would turn deadly if she didn’t act fast. And it wasn’t the intensity of Etienne’s gaze that kept her from rushing to Verushka’s rescue. Kiki would have left the handsome boy behind in her dust if she’d had any clue where her guardian was being held.

  “Your friend screwed everything up,” she told Etienne, speaking English without realizing it. “The person I love most in the world may end up dead.”

  “I’ll help you save him,” Etienne promised in a flawless American accent.

  “It’s a her,” Kiki corrected.

  “Thank goodness for that,” Etienne said. “But you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

  “We?” Kiki snorted. “We aren’t going anywhere, Etienne. I should never have gotten you involved in the first place.”

  “In that case, I hope you’re prepared to travel by foot. The subway doesn’t run at this time of night,” Etienne informed her. “And I haven’t seen any cabs. But my driver can get here in ninety seconds. We’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

  “Is your driver trustworthy?” Kiki asked. “Forgive the question, but you do have rather poor taste in friends.”

  “He’s been with my family for years. He’s as loyal to us as we are to him,” Etienne said. “Shall I make the call?”

  Kiki took a breath, rolled her eyes toward the heavens, and signaled her reluctant approval with a nod.

  “How did you manage to figure out who I am?” she asked when Etienne was off the phone and his car was on its way.

  “I spent half the night dancing with a girl disguised as you. Apparently no one else in Paris recognizes a wig and contact lenses when they see them.”

  “She’s my cousin. Her real name is Sidonia Galatzina. She’s trying to steal the throne of Pokrovia.”

  “I suspected as much,” Etienne repli
ed. “My own family has been marrying, murdering, and cheating each other for five hundred years. Ordinary blood may be thicker than water, but blue blood seems to be thinner than mist.”

  “So you figured out what Sidonia was up to, and you kept on dancing? You must have been enjoying yourself.” A tinge of jealousy had crept into Kiki’s voice. “I was beginning to worry that you might stand me up.”

  “Your cousin is a wonderful dancer and an atrocious human being,” Etienne observed. “She refused to speak to anyone without a title, she called all the other girls ‘monkeys in gowns,’ and she tossed a glass of champagne in a waiter’s face. I suppose I should feel flattered that someone with such high standards took a shine to me. Unfortunately, Sidonia is much too evil for my taste. I would have fled for my life hours ago if it hadn’t been for you.”

  “For me?” Kiki arched an eyebrow. The pale, serious boy stared back at her, and Kiki could see why Sidonia had fallen for him.

  “I thought you might like to know where your imposter is staying.” Etienne broke into a mischievous grin. “So I offered to escort her home.”

  “And?” Despite the circumstances, Kiki couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Room 712 of the Prince Albert Hotel. Which is really quite convenient, since your friend Betty Bent happens to be staying on the same floor. She sent me a message a few hours before I left for the party. She’s here in Paris, and she has the cure.”

  “Ananka chose Betty to deliver the cure?” Kiki frowned. “That’s rather unfortunate. Betty certainly has her talents, but I would have picked Oona Wong for this mission. She’s got a wicked roundhouse kick. Or Luz Lopez. Not the best kicker, but she’s as mean as a snake.”