Page 132 of The Light Within

Stop fucking staring at me.

This was stupid. Béatrice wasn’t going to magically appear for him. It didn’t work like that. Randomly roaming the streets of Paris would be a better use of time!

The quiet, concerned chatter of the group reached his ears and Cinn clenched his jaw. How long until they got bored and pissed off? The warding band around his wrist warmed with his rising temper.

And there she was. Two eyeless sockets staring at him from the darkest recesses of the shadow.

The cat shifted slightly, her silhouette wavering like smoke.

Thank fuck.

“Hi.” Relief cascaded through Cinn as he moved in front of her, shielding her from view.

The sound of footsteps behind him did not sound promising.

“Remarkable!” Noir gasped, reaching forward, hand outstretched.

When Béatrice hissed at Noir and jumped back, Cinn couldn’t suppress his nervous, unsteady laughter. “She kind of only likes me.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t touch her if I were you. She bites.”

Behind Noir, the rest of the group shuffled about, trying to get a good look, while Darcy snapped at them to stay back.

Cinn dropped to the cool marble floor, lowered his voice to a whisper. “Okay, we’re all here. Where to now? Where is he?” Then, because he couldn’t shake the feeling that the sands of time were slipping away, grain by grain, he added, “Help me find him before it’s too late.”

Béatrice was still for a long moment. She let out a low growl that resonated deep within her and bolted towards the revolving glass door, paws skittering across the marble.

Cinn’s heart jumped into his throat as he watched the creature’s swift, determined dash. “Follow her!” he urged, already on his feet, moving towards the door.

Outside, the sign on the brick wall informed him he’d visitedL’Oasis. Cinn sped past it, his borrowed trainers rubbing against his heel as hepounded them against the pavement—Béatrice was already at the end of the road.

“She’s a speedy one.” Running beside him, Malik sounded amused.

Cinn didn’t waste energy replying. His breaths were coming out in quick, frosty puffs as they raced through the damp, cobblestone streets of Paris. Their writhing ball of shadows darted ahead like a dark phantom, weaving through the narrow alleyways and cutting through the beams of street lights that somehow only made her darker. Elliot was right behind Cinn, while Darcy and Malik kept pace, exchanging glances filled with urgency.

When Cinn glanced back, he found Eleanor, Tamara and that other bloke trailing far behind them. Noir, moving with uncanny grace for a man his age, was almost a shadow himself, blending into the night as if he belonged there.

Béatrice led them past shuttered cafés and sleeping boutiques, across bridges that arched over the Seine like silver ribbons under the moonlight. Though, as they dashed past a few remaining tourists still braving the frigid night, the cat slipping through the crowd like smoke, Paris’s usual magic felt twisted, distorted. Like the city itself was bending around them, guiding themsomewhere. The tug was palpable, a gravitational pull stronger than the fear of what lay ahead.

Just when it seemed the cat would vanish into the labyrinth of Paris forever, she stopped abruptly just outside a metro station.

“The catacombs?” Darcy said, on a gasp of air, clutching her chest. “Béatrice was never this fast before!”

Béatrice didn’t seem bothered by Darcy’s comment, quickly slipping through the bars of the ancient iron gate. The cat turned, her eyeless sockets locking onto Cinn, and with a flick of her tail, she disappeared into the darkness below, vanishing down the narrow stairway leading underground.

No!Cinn’s heart stuttered as he lost sight of her. He gripped two of the gate’s heavy bars, squinting at the entrance. Rough, aged limestone framed it, the words ‘Arrête! C’est ici l’empire de la mort,’carved deeply into the rock above, barely visible in the dim light.

“Move!” Elliot hip-checked Cinn out of the way, sending him stumbling into Darcy, who had her face pressed between two bars.

A deafening bang pierced the quiet air; Elliot smashed the lock. The chain fell limp, clattering against the metal.

Eleanor, who’d fallen behind, arrived and cleared her throat. Her grey hair, damp from the Baths, was now further dishevelled.

“You stay up here, ma’am.” Tamara tightened the straps of a grey rucksack.

Eleanor exhaled a heavy sigh, like she could easily collapse on the ground. It was definitely a good idea that she stayed behind—she’d slow them down.

“No,” Eleanor said, rubbing the base of her spine. “I think I need to come. If Lucien really is down there”—she pursed her lips—“I want to see him. Let’s go.”

Malik slipped through the gate first, heading straight for the narrow stone archway just beyond. Elliot caught his arm, pulling him behind him. Malik’s face scrunched in mild annoyance, and Cinn would have found it all funny if they weren’t on a life-and-death mission to save his idiot boyfriend.

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