Hallways led to more hallways and a blur of doors and voices and the sound of my breath racing in and out of me. Each time the voices got closer, I’d make another turn, but I knew I couldn’t keep it up. Finally, I recognized some things — the photos of the moon, that giant vase of black roses. It was the entryway, and there was the zombie supermodel receptionist. As I was trying to figure out how to get out unnoticed, the doors opened, and the hushed entryway was suddenly filled with a pack of the nastiest-looking creatures I’d ever seen, growling ferociously and pulling on the metal chains that were held, just barely, by Scar. Their skin was stretched like shrink-wrap over their bones, their eyes seemed lidless, the fangs were permanently bared, and their ears flat back against their knobby heads. It was a terrifying sight, and I struggled to keep from gasping behind a couch, my latest hiding place.
“Oh, Scar, you look so manly with your puppies,” sneered the receptionist, arching a razor-sharp brow.
“Let’s cut to the chase, if you know what I mean, Tawdry.”
“Your little pack of underdogs seems a bit more restless than usual,” she offered teasingly.
“Must be that perfume of yours. What is it — eau de toilette, or oh, the toilet?” he wheezed and laughed in his ugly way.
She raised a brow in the direction of the hallway to the right of her desk, and Scar rushed on, led by his straining beasts. He was no sooner gone than Tawdry whispered, “Okay, little one, you can come out. I’ll open the doors for you. I’m outta this dump soon enough myself.”
I emerged wide-eyed, and she shrugged, flashing a little so-what smile. She indicated a row of security cameras on her desk, one clearly showing the outside of the door. “Can I hear that voice again? You know, ‘Black Mamba’?” She smiled and imitated my entrance trick. “Okay, quick. See you in the sunshine, kiddo.”
I didn’t even stop to thank her as I burst out the sliding door and down the nearest stone passageway. The stench of the sewer was never so welcome. I could hardly wait for the sweet smell of boiling beets. After a while I felt like I’d traded one maze for another. I passed piles of bones in little alcoves and had to dodge the stalactites that were hanging like rocky icicles from above. At times the water got deeper, blacker, and nastier smelling. The light was virtually non-existent when I almost ran right into a wall of stone. A rockslide! This meant I’d have to turn back. Right then I heard a sound that stopped the breath in my chest. My stomach rose into my throat, and I felt pure cold fear. That snapping, snarling sound could only be one thing. The gargoyles. A voice hissed, “They’re pulling this way. C’mon.”
I started groping a wall looking for a crack to crawl into I knew didn’t exist. Suddenly, from above, a huge hand reached down and grabbed me by my coat while its partner clamped over my mouth just in time to stop the scream that was about to escape.
In the darkness, I could see nothing. The panting and slobbering of the gargoyles seemed to fill the space below me. A gruff voice barely whispered in my ear, “Be cool and very slowly take off that scarf, and we might get out of here.”
Blag, my rescuer? It didn’t make sense, but this wasn’t the moment for making sense. I slipped off Sashay’s scarf, and he indicated that I should wrap it around us. He continued to support me with a grip of steel that I was very grateful for. His other arm was coiled around the jagged point of a rock at the top of the slide. The scarf blended in with the rocks and must have concealed us, because I could feel the hot hound breath and see flashlights moving over us.
“She must be close. These gargoyles are goin’ crazy,” a voice grunted.
“Yeah, right, she turned to stone,” came the snide response.
“Alright, alright, let’s keep looking. Louche doesn’t like to wait.”
The sound of chains clanking together was accompanied by growls and yelps. Gradually the sound receded. I was still afraid to breathe. My leg was going to sleep, and I shifted slightly. A sudden torrent of tiny stones rushed down the rock face.
“What was that?” a distant voice echoed down the passageway. Some whining and snapping followed.
“Let’s get outta here before this one closes off.”
Great. Something else to worry about. Hungry creatures with fangs like sharks, a madman who wants to plunge a beautiful city into darkness, being wedged in a stinking hiding place with a sweating lug who might or might not want to protect me, and now the possibility of a rock slide trapping me in the Paris underground forever. Whatever happened to just worrying about too much math homework?
Once the silence took over, Blag groaned and eased me to the ground. I realized he’d been holding both of us up with one arm for quite a while by hanging on to a large chunk of freshly broken rock. “Thanks. How, how did you ... I ... I thought ...” I stuttered.
“Yeah, I know, I know.” He was flushed and out of breath.
“I saw you going in, little spy mouse.” He managed a smile as he shook his sweating head before continuing. “I’ll bet Tawdry did too. There’s a security camera, you know.”
I shrugged, feeling a little stupid but mainly just glad to have escaped Shadowcorps. “She let me out. But I thought you ... I mean I saw you with ... with them and I just figured ...”
“I know.” He cut me off. “Those Fiat jokers forced my dad to sell the club to them. They’re changing it into the Moulin Noir — how twisted is that? Tonight’s the last night as the Moulin D’Or. I tried to talk them out of it today, but I wasted my breath on those weasly wimps. I think Luc might have gone for it, but Louche calls the shots.”
“You know them?” I must have sounded stunned.
“Yeah, when I was kid, I’d sneak into the catacombs for fun, and I got to know a lot of the Shadow kids. We never really trusted each other, but I thought it was cool at the time. Luc was okay. He’s almost normal, got his mom’s aboveground eyes. His slimebucket brother makes up for it with pure creepiness, though.”
I told him about the fight I’d witnessed between them. “Wow. Flying glass. A gold cross as a weapon. Cool!”
I told him it hadn’t been cool for me, and I was glad to be out of that place. “I’m sorry I misjudged you, Antoine. You really saved me, big time.”
“Call me Blag. Antoine sounds so lame. No problem. You gotta lot of nerve, kid.” I was about to tell him the rest of what I’d seen in Shadowcorps, but he jumped in. “Anyway, let’s save the chatting. This joint’s looking a little shaky to me.”
He seemed to know his way around as we moved quickly and quietly through the underground. At one point, he stopped and leaned in to whisper to me, “I think I know a way out. I heard some of them talking about this giant ramp set up for the monster crane, whatever that’s for. I know where the workshop is, but we’ll have to go through town.”
I must have looked puzzled, but he just grabbed my sleeve and said, “You’ll see. C’mon.”
We soon came into blue-lit streets like the ones I’d seen when I’d first climbed down the ladder from the sewer grate. Occasional mini Métros rolled by with their tinted windows. “Check this out.” He pointed out a rambling collection of sheds at the end of the passageway. “Les Halles, the real Les Halles.”
As we got closer, I could hear the buzz of activity. It was a full-fledged underground market, with merchants at their stalls and Shadow shoppers trying on trench coats, squeezing strange colourless vegetables, and strolling around admiring bony birds hanging from hooks, all the while smoking relentlessly.
Blag leaned into me. “The outdoor market, Les Halles, survived every trashing of Paris for about seven hundred years, but eventually it got torn down too. At night, while it was happening, the Shadows would sneak into the demolition site and steal the remains, bringing them down below to reconstruct the market here. Saved the city a lot of haulage, I figure. No one knew where the piles of smashed sheds went. Voila!” He snorted, sounding sympathetic to the Shadows’ cause, as if they’d pulled one over on the big boys this time.
We took a tiny passageway to avoid the shoppers, occasionally dipping into doorways without having to risk discovery. I didn’t mind a little break in the terror.
Some things were looking familiar, despite the ever-present stone surfaces, bluish light, and the reek of sewer. Then I realized we were near the giant workroom where I’d seen the crane being assembled. As we peered into the cavernous room, there was activity everywhere. Metal clanged against metal, setting off reverberations in the cavernous room. The low roar of machinery and voices filled the air. Blag looked mesmerized staring at the now completed crane. It was dazzling, with section after section of black gridwork attached together and supported by thick metal girders. A cab for an operator was near one end, with wires extending off in both directions from a pyramid structure that sat on top of the cab. A series of sinister green lights was being tested. To one side lay an enormous hook-like attachment with thick-coiled metal cord wrapped around a cylinder beside it. We were so absorbed in looking at this monstrosity that we almost didn’t hear the sound of approaching footsteps. I poked Blag in his considerable chest and hushed him. We ducked out of view as Louche and two of his puffing bullies came into view.
“I’d weep if I could, Louche,” laughed one thug.
“Heavy metal heaven,” said the other.
“Yesss ... ouiii ... the mini cranes are in place all over the underground, ready for ‘lights out.’ Every shining monument in Paris will be a memory by tomorrow, my Shadows. But this,” he said as he gestured at the metal giant, “this is a work of art.”
He turned to one of his cronies. “Did Scar find the little mole?”
“Not yet, Louche. She’s probably lost in a slide.” The Shadow sounded delighted.
“Ouiii ... yesss ... I suppose. And what could a little Yankee puff of nothing do anyway? Who would believe her story?”
He laughed snidely as they moved on to inspect the finishing touches on the work at hand. Once they were at a distance, Blag tugged my sleeve, and we cautiously made our way past the construction. How could a person Blag’s size pass unseen? I wondered. Someone must have read my mind, because just when I thought we were clear and out of view of Louche and the workers, a nasty voice shouted, booming across the immense hollow room. “Hey, there she is! And squarehead’s with her. Gargoyles, attack!”
Scar was at the far side of the room and released his pack at that moment.
“Great,” Blag spat. “C’mon, kid. Let’s hit it.”
He grabbed me by an arm, but I didn’t need any encouragement. At the far end of the room in the direction we were running was a gigantic platform, and Blag was heading straight for it. The gargoyles would be on us in seconds. Blag was strides ahead of me by then and jumped onto the platform. He pulled a lever on one side, and the whole thing started to tilt upwards toward a set of doors that I could now see beginning to crack open far above. Blag turned back and grabbed me, and we started running up the ramp in the direction of the distant daylight. He held my arm and skipped me like a stone across a lake as he pounded upwards at a remarkable speed, considering his bulk.
The gargoyles were gaining, and I knew we wouldn’t make it to the top. In the confusion below, amid a chorus of shouting, Scar was racing toward the ramp as we flew to the opening yawning ahead. As he reached the bottom, he yanked on the lever. The doors started to reverse direction and began to close. The ramp jerked to a halt just as it reached the top and began to lower. Right at this moment, the first of the gargoyles caught up to us and grabbed for me, getting a mouthful of scarf. A rush of terror seized me, and if it weren’t for Blag yanking me along, I would’ve been dinner for six. Blag swung around, unwinding the scarf from my neck then wrapping it around the jaws of the snapping gargoyle. One giant boot to the head later, it tumbled backwards into the pack. Blag stopped briefly to admire his handiwork, but I yelled to him that the ramp was lowering. We hit the top, and he leaped into the shrinking doorway, pushing his beefy body into the crack like the last man onto a crowded métro. I closed my eyes and jumped, grabbing the frame and hoisting myself up at the last second as I looked down at the tumble of gargoyle dogs and the shouting gang below. I squeezed between Blag’s legs, and he released the doors, which closed with an awesome jaw-like snap.