RISE OF THE LYCANS - Mates and Bonds

Lukas

“Did he ever say anything about magic?” Grandma inquired casually.

“As in hocus pocus, bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, type of magic?” Jose asked.

“Wait, what?” Flaym questioned in disbelief.

“Magic,” Storm breathed, understanding what I was thinking.

“The fuck?” Caspian asked, his blue eyes flashing black.

“Was Erick the one who sent that wonderful bottle of champagne over?”

“Two bottles,” Jose nodded, and it took all I had to suppress a growl. My beast was ready to rip Erick to shreds.

Erick worked for Darc, and I didn’t think it was coincidental that they started dating a few months prior to the announcement of the mating ball. I remembered the way Darc had flirted with my mate at the café... I should have ripped his throat out when I had a chance. He intended to drive her into heat and claim her for himself.

“The magic?” Grandma pressed.

“The only magic I ever heard him speak about was creating magic in the kitchen,” Jose said. “You’ve had his cooking. Anyone who can turn those nasty snails into something palatable can work magic in the kitchen, right?”

“He never told you about his tattoo?” Grandma continued.

“Which tattoo?” Jose asked. “He’s got a few.”

“The triple moon tattoo on the inside of his wrist,” she said.

“No,” he shook his head, looking confused. “Why? Is it a pagan or wiccan thing... or something?”

I didn’t get the sense that Jose was lying, though I couldn’t help but wonder what other things he may have ignorantly known. If Erick had a triple moon tattoo, there was a good chance that he came from a line of mages. The one thing I knew about magic was that not all mages were created equally. Some were more powerful than others.

“Grandma Dori works magic in the kitchen, too!” Flaym told Jose.

Caspian looked at me, and without speaking, I heard his voice through the mind link. “Maybe someone cast a spell on us to keep us from feeling the mate bond?”

Ranger’s mother, Hazel, was one of the most powerful mages alive today. There was no way a spell would be cast on her children without her sensing it. “No one is strong enough to cast it on every shifter worldwide.”

“There have been some mating ceremonies over the last decade. Maybe it’s not every shifter,” Caspian suggested.

My lips curled into a smile. “You should ask Storm what she thinks about that theory.”

A few minutes later, we reached a building that appeared to have a long line of tourists waiting. I took the opportunity to remind everyone, and by everyone, I meant Grandma, not to touch the bones, remove anything, or walk away from the group.

“That’s right. Mind your P’s and Q’s,” Grandma reminded us, as if we were still small pups out shopping with her. “Show some decorum and respect for the dead... and no dilly-dallying, Flaym.” She smiled and waved to a woman holding a sign that read Parisian Tours.

“The catacombs are going to be crowded with tourists,” Flaym said, looking over the long line.

A smiling woman, who reminded me of an old librarian, greeted us. “Bonjour, I’m Sylvie, and I’ll be taking you on a private tour of the catacombs today.”

“Will there be enough air down there with all these people?” Flaym asked, and I choked down a laugh. He was asking about air when he had two shifters who could manipulate air with him.

“The catacombs only allow two hundred people in at a time,” Sylvie told us with a thick accent. “Dori booked all two hundred tickets for two hours, so no one else will be allowed in.”

“You mean these poor suckers...” Flaym started to say.

“Will have to wait another hour and a half before they can enter. Our time started thirty minutes ago to ensure the previous groups have vacated the catacombs. We will also visit the restricted areas.”

“This is going to be great!” Jose said. “A private tour.”

“Do you think it’s haunted?” Flaym asked no one in particular.

We entered the street-level building, where Sylvie started telling us the history of the catacombs. She told us about the Romans, the limestone quarries, the overcrowded cemeteries, and the transfer of six million people to the tunnels below. Then, we started our descent down a spiraling stone staircase. The temperature dropped as we stepped further beneath Paris to the underground labyrinth.

“Grandma, you want me to carry you down?” Caspian asked.

“I’m okay, but you can definitely carry me back up,” she replied.

“It smells like dirt down here,” Flaym said. “Reminds me of a tomb.”

“You are in a tomb,” Storm told him. “A tomb with six million people.”

“Not all catacombs are created evenly or with the same intent,” Sylvie said as we entered a large chamber surrounded by carved rock. “As I said, this was a stone quarry that helped create all the beautiful buildings you see above.”

“Has a building or street ever caved in?” Flaym asked.

“In December of 1774, a street named Rue d’Enfer, which means the road of hell, collapsed beneath the weight of Paris. It swallowed up several houses and became known as the Mouth of Hell.”

“And where is or was the Mouth of Hell located?” Storm asked.

“The street was renamed, but it’s just outside, in front of the bronze lion statue,” Sylvie replied.

“How far did the road run?”

“They say it went from here to point zero,” she said.

“Point zero?”

“Yes, the center of Paris on L’île de la Cité.”

I knew L’île de la Cité was one of the small islands in the middle of the Seine River that separated Paris into the left and right banks, but I didn’t know which one of the two islands it was.

Our guide moved to another doorway and pointed above her head to words that had been painted on the stone. “It says, stop, this is the empire of the dead.”

“Empire of the dead,” Selena repeated, giving Storm a curious glance.

“Well, ain’t this quaint,” Grandma peeped.

“You think this is what she’s been seeing?” Selena asked through the mind link. “With the bones and the entrance gates?

“I’m not sure.” I placed my hand on the small of her back, ensuring I didn’t lose sight of her while we were down here.

The lighting on the walls was adequate, but the ceilings were low, which made me feel like I was in a cramped bunker. Neatly stacked bones lined the walls, and some of the chambers were stacked in an artful display. My eyes shifted to the floor, and I used my lycan vision to ensure there were no hazards that could trip my mate or Grandmother. Something about this place felt a little creepy and sad.

“It makes you wonder who they were,” Grandma said. “What era did they live in, and what history did they witness?”

“I heard that Marie Antoinette’s favorite dress designer is among the bones,” Jose told Selena. “Her fashions were shipped worldwide.”

“How old are the bones?” Caspian asked.

“They’re not separated by time or age,” Sylvie replied. “Some date back well over a thousand years.”

We continued on the tour, and Sylvie spouted facts about the catacombs. Roughly one percent of the tunnels were used to house bones. Flaym was intrigued when she mentioned mushrooms had once been farmed in the catacombs. She told us about the French resistance fighters using the tunnels, the Nazi compounds in the catacombs, secret societies, parties, and more.

“Is that a fountain or well?” Grandma looked down at a dark hole.

“The well system was dug to help with the mining of limestone,” Sylvie carried on with more interesting facts.

“What about hauntings?” Flaym asked.

“It’s possible, though I’ve never experienced it in all my years,” Sylvie said. She led us into restricted chambers, and Grandma snapped a few photos.

“Wait, I need to take a few more,” she looked down at her phone. “The shadows behind the stack of bones are moving. Everyone stop shuffling around so I can get a good shot.”

“Do you want me to take a few with you in them,” Jose asked. “For the girls at bingo?”

“That would be peachy. Let me just slap some lipstick on.” Jose took the phone from Grandma while she dug around for her lipstick.

“Umm, Sylvie?” Jose asked as his head tilted to the side. He moved the phone closer and appeared to be trying to zoom in on something. “Did they also store animals down here?”

“No,” she laughed. “Of course not. This section of the catacombs was consecrated for human remains.”

“It looks like this photo has two horns of some kind sticking out of the ba—”

“LOOK OUT!” Caspian lunged forward just as a tall stack of bones and skulls came crashing down.

He managed to pull Grandma and Jose away before the bones could bury them. The lights flickered, and what I thought was a shadow moved like black smoke and evaporated down a hole in the ground leading to a well. I considered chasing after it, but I didn’t want to be lured away from my mate. The color drained out of our guide’s face, and she seemed at a loss for words.

“They’re all over me!” Grandma shouted and frantically kicked a skull away from her foot. The skull went sailing across the small chamber and hit Sylvie in the middle of her chest before it crashed down on the ground.

“Congratulations, Sylvie,” Flaym clapped her on the back. “I think you just experienced your first haunting.”

I knew it wasn’t a haunting because I knew black mist could pass for smoke or hide in the shadows. I thought back to the cemetery and the creature we encountered. Storm had a better view of the cloaked figure and mentioned seeing horns.

“I think we’ve seen enough of the catacombs,” Caspian announced.

Sylvie pursed her lips together and nodded before silently leading us through a few passages to another set of stone steps. Jose remained quiet, and I wondered if he saw anything more since he was standing closer and facing the bones behind Grandma. He was a little more observant than Sylvie, so there was a good chance he had noticed. We reached the top of the exit, which took us to a gift shop, and I couldn’t help sneering. These tourist traps were all the same.

I reached into my pocket and extracted a hundred euros. “There was that earthquake yesterday... I bet it may have caused the bones to shift around,” I suggested as I handed her the money. She nodded, trying to make sense of it. “Thank goodness no one was hurt.”

“Hurt?” Jose stammered. “Some of those bones hit me. I’ve got cooties on me.”

“Dead people cooties!” Grandma squawked. “I got hit, too.”

“Thanks again,” Selena told our still-speechless guide before we weaved our way through the gift shop and out the door.

“Should we get a souvenir or something?” Grandma asked. “Look, they have skull goblets.”

“You were just complaining about cooties,” Caspian groaned. “Now you want to drink out of a skull goblet.”

Storm laughed. “I don’t know who shrieked louder, Grandma or Jose.”

“I’m telling you, there was something behind that stack of bones,” Jose insisted. “The horns are in the picture, but I saw a face just before the bones fell.”

Everyone looked at Jose in stunned silence with his confession.

“Phone,” Storm held her hand out, and Jose gave it to her.

“Look over there,” Jose pointed at the small screen in her hand.

“Is it the same thing we saw at the cemetery?” Grandma asked.

“What thing? What cemetery?” Jose asked.

Storm’s voice came through the mind link to all of us. “It’s her.”

She passed the phone to me, and I could clearly see horns curled forward and dark eyes. I passed the phone to Selena and heard a sharp inhalation. She also recognized it. Flaym took the phone and nodded before passing it to Caspian.

Caspian zoomed in for a closer look. “What are those? Antlers?”

“Oh, come on,” Flaym shook his head. “It’s not like you haven’t been hunting before. You know Antlers are branched. These are horns.”

“Okay, so they’re horns,” Caspian agreed. “Some tourists could have slipped them in as a joke.” Caspian wasn’t at the cemetery when we saw the cloaked creature and seemed as skeptical as my father.

“Nope,” Jose shook his head. “I know what I saw. It moved,” he insisted. “That was the face of a beautiful demon.”

Everyone exchanged silent glances. Jose was from California but had moved to Paris five years ago. Selena had met him on the first day of school and considered him a good friend.

“Jose, you believe in demons?”

“Oh yes,” he said with a snap. “I was raised in the Catholic Church, but many religions believe in demons of sorts.”

“That’s what I told them,” Grandma said. “What about this point zero? It sounds like the highway to hell leads straight to it.”

“You mean the road of hell,” Caspian corrected her.

“Potato, potahto,” she waved her hand.

“Point zero is located in the front square of Notre-Dame,” Jose told us. “There’s a marker and everything.”

“Lukas, call for the car,” Grandma said, and I reached for my phone. “We need to go check it out, and I can stock up on my holy water.”

“Holy water? You’re not even Catholic!” Caspian looked from Grandma to me, wondering why I was allowing this. “Uncle Ares will skin me alive. We’re supposed to be at the Place de la Concorde, where the Queen lost her head.”

“Honey, you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs,” Grandma told Caspian.

The driver was able to get us close to the Cathedral, but we had to walk across the square. It was mid-afternoon on a weekend, and the tourists were out en masse. I hated being out in such large crowds because it made it harder to pick up individual scents. I grabbed a bottle of water from the bar for my mate. I didn’t want her to be parched from all this walking around.

“You should drink,” I handed her the bottle.

“Thank you,” she smiled, and I noticed the sweet blush on her face.

“Let’s go see this point zero so I can take you back to our room,” I said with a wink and watched as the blush deepened.

“It’s just over here, where the coins are,” Jose pointed. “Some people make wishes by tossing coins on it.”

In the middle of the square, set in a round concrete slab, sat a small brass octagonal plate. The words Point Zero Des Routes De France were engraved around the brass plate, and an eight-point star was embedded in the center.

“Is this really the center of Paris’ roads?” Caspian asked. “It’s an island in the middle of the Seine River.”

“It looks like a large manhole cover,” Flaym added.

“It could be another well system,” Selena suggested.

“Or a sealed demon hole,” Jose pointed. “That’s an eight-point star.”

“The eight-point star has been around since before Christ,” I told them. “I believe the oldest record of it dates back to the Goddess Ishtar.”

Grandma huffed with a head shake. “Not this bimbo, again.”

Ishtar was the Goddess who cursed Balthazar over two thousand years ago. Just as the Moon Goddess had different names or identities in different religions, so did Ishtar. Some knew her as Inanna, Astarte, Aphrodite, Venus, and so on. I didn’t believe this had anything to do with the Goddess, and I knew the star had other implications in other religions and cultures. Grandma took her phone out and started snapping photos.

“The eight-point star is symbolic of more than the Ancient Goddess.”

“Could this be a demon hole?” Flaym asked.

“The morning star was eight-points in the Bible. Wasn’t it?” Jose questioned.

“Lucifer means morning star or light bringer,” Grandma said.

“Lucifer was an angel,” I repeated something I’d heard my entire life when someone mentioned Lucifer.

“Oh, I love the Lucifer designer brands,” Jose practically swooned. He seemed to know his fashion and luxury brands, but he didn’t know that the Lucifer brand belonged to our family in Italy.

“It could just be the direction of the road lines across Paris,” Caspian suggested. “North, east, south, west, and the points in between.”

“Or it could be a demon hole,” Flaym suggested again.

“If this is a demon hole, the mark would be associated with Satan and not Lucifer.”

“What about the wiccan wheel?” Selena said as she studied it. “It has eight points.”

Storm crouched down for a better look. “It looks like it’s been sealed for a long time. I don’t think our friend came out of there.”

“Isn’t that also the sign of chaos?” Flaym asked.

“Sign of chaos?” Storm asked Flaym. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”

“Well, there’s a circle in the center of the star, and all the points shoot out in different directions. Like the symbol of chaos.”

“You don’t recognize the star?” I asked, wondering if she had seen it in a vision.

“No, but those doors look familiar,” Storm replied as she looked at the cathedral’s large doors.

“Now those I know all about,” Jose announced with certainty. “Those are The Devil’s Doors.”