Page 127 of The Light Within

In the centre of the chamber stood a large stone table, a colossus of cold granite. It appeared to be their destination.

“So, you said there were a few different access points to this place?”

A few different ways to escape, should I need to.

“Yes,” his father replied with a nonchalant air.

Putain. The whole catacombs situation had slightly derailed his plan to destroy the machine and kill his father in one fell swoop. How on earth would he attempt to navigate his way back alone? He was too young and pretty to die, lost in a maze of bones beneath Paris.

A noise sounded from a nearby tunnel. A rat? An angry skeleton, reforming and coming to get them? His father leaned against the stone slab. He crossed his arms. Smiled.

“Do you know that you were named after my father, Julien?”

Warning bells burst into life.Something isn’t right here.

“I did know that, yes.” He’d never met his grandfather, but he’d heard the tale.

“You inherited your intelligence from me, and I from him.”

Julien really didn’t like where this was going. His chest tightened, a cold sweat creeping along the back of his neck. “Alright.”

“However, on this occasion, you have demonstrated a truly shocking degree of naïve stupidity.”

His father didn’t move an inch.

Neither did Julien.

“It’s laughable, really,” his father added, a cold smile playing on his lips.

Julien’s heart pounded louder than the distant echo of dripping water. The walls seemed to close in, the air suddenly too thin, too suffocating. His mind raced, grasping at any possible exit plan, but every thought was like a flickering light swallowed by encroaching darkness. He could killhis father in an instant, that much he was sure of. He could manipulate a bone from the wall, send it flying through his neck. In fact, he was fairly confident he could straight up explode his brain, if he worked his extraordinary motes in the right way.

But that still left the machine operational, its location undiscovered, and Julien lost in the catacombs.

His father laughed, a cold, mocking sound that echoed through the chamber, reverberating off the stone walls, an ominous chorus.

“What’s so funny?” Julien threw out, buying time.

“Dear son. It’s almost a joke.” He stepped away from the slab, spreading his arms in mock grandeur. “The absurd notion that you could waltz into my house and win me over with a handful of insipid platitudes.”

Julien’s mouth dried. “I—”

“That you didn’t think I had that priest thoroughly interrogated for every scrap of information he gave you.”

Oh, God. Poor Father Gérard. Julien hadn’t been the most polite to him, but he didn’t want the old man harmed. “Is Father Gérard okay?”

A sharp-toothed smile was offered in response.

“You honestly thought I’d just walk you right up to theMachina Tenebris,andgive you the grand tour?”

Why yes, yes he had. His father was completely correct—Julien’s plan was downright stupid.

Without warning, both of his wrists were yanked behind him, a sharp click securing their bind. Cool metal touched his skin. A faint blue glow pooled on the floor.

If Julien could see his wrists, he’d find a pair of handcuffs identical to the ones he’d watched a gendarme attempt to bind his mother’s wrists with in the church. Moments before Julien killed them all.

He tried to twist, to discover who’d snuck up on him, but the person grabbed his neck, then shoved him, sending him tumbling onto the hard floor.

“I’d really rather not rip these trousers.” Julien’s humour felt hollow, the fear in his voice obvious.

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