Page 24 of The Mask Falling

“How do you know?”

“Because no Vigile would seek to enter the carrières. They’re not stupid.” A thin smile. “I do have a condition.”

“Name it.”

“My fellowanormalespatrol the tunnels for outsiders. Once we are down there, you must keep your distance from me,” she said, “and if we do run into a patrol, you must say you were following me.”

“We’ll be convincing,” I said.

“Good.” Her neck was tattooed with green scales. “You are confident the grands ducs will receive you?”

“Trust me.”

“I wish I could. Most likely they will abandon you both in the dark and leave you to die of thirst. And I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you if they do.”

“Understood.”

Mélusine hitched up her backpack. “Follow me. Not too close,” she said, and strode back into the snow. I waited a few moments before I went after her.

She walked down the boulevard. Arcturus and I followed at a reasonable distance until she stopped near a bus shelter and beckoned us.

“Here is our door.” She tapped her foot on a manhole. “I have the equipment to pull it up,” she said to Arcturus, “but you look as if you might be quite strong.”

Arcturus picked up the cast-iron cover as if it were made of cardboard. Mélusine shot him an impressed look and slithered into the manhole. I tucked my lenses into my pocket and checked no one was watching before I went after her.

My boot found a rung. I climbed down the ladder, darkness coagulating around me. Above, Arcturus slid the cover back into place. My knuckles strained as I clung there, sightless and unmoving.

“Paige?”

When I could speak, I said, “I’m all right.”

I forced my legs to keep going, one rung after the next. Mélusine waited in a circle of light at the bottom.

“Welcome to the carrières.” She wore a headlamp. “Home of Le Nouveau Régime.”

The blackness formed a wall before us. “Do the Vigiles not know about the manholes?” I asked her.

“Oh, they know—but as I said, they don’t come down here now. You’ll see why.”

Arcturus stepped off the ladder. I set my back against the wall, hands on my hips. There were hundreds of thousands of spirits around us, pressing so hard on my aura that cold sweat prickled on my brow.

“First-timers always find it hard,” Mélusine said. “You will get used to it.”

“How many spirits are here?”

“Several hundred thousand, at least. Hard to count. Be grateful there are not more,” she added. “The remains of about six million people lie in the carrières.” She pulled a second headlamp from one of her pockets. “Many of the dead remain with their bones. We do not banish them. In return, they let us share their domain.”

“I don’t see any bones,” I said.

“You will.” She tossed me the headlamp. “At points, the ceiling is very low,” she warned Arcturus. “Mind your head. And remember, keep your distance.”

She set off down the passage. I turned to Arcturus, whose eyes lit the absolute darkness.

“Paige.”

The silence was so thick around us that it ate the echo of his voice.

“I’m not letting this trail go cold.” I switched on the lamp. “In the syndicate, you take what opportunities you can.”

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