Paris Murder: An Inept Witches Mystery Page 8

  A big wave came out of nowhere from behind her and covered her face. She frantically fought her way to the surface and reached for the wall to stabilize herself. “What the….” Emily coughed and choked, much less than thrilled that this nasty water got into her lungs. But she didn’t have time to think about that right now. Splashing sounds came from behind her and she was the last one in the group so this had to be the murderer, coming up to kill her from behind. She strained in the darkness to see who or what was moving toward her in the water, but it was still too dark and they were too far away. “Betty,” Emily hissed. “There’s someone behind me. Keep moving, as quickly as you can, but try to be quiet so they can’t find you. Turn off your light and just use the wall for a guide.”

  “Who? That’s not my name. It’s Judith.”

  “Go,” Emily hissed. “Hurry. Someone is behind me.”

  Emily took her own advice, turning off her light and moving through the water as fast and quietly as she could. Hopefully she could catch up to Gabe and Ingrid before she was slaughtered. But just in case, she went over her magic spells in her mind. She was surrounded by water, but she didn’t care. She’d torch this SOB as soon as he was close enough for her to see the whites of his eyes.

  For a tense minute, Betty 2 and Emily crept through the water. The splashes behind them were getting bigger now and when Emily looked back over her shoulder, she could just make out a shape coming toward her.

  “Damn. It.” Emily muttered under her breath, feeling a rush of adrenaline and terror. They weren’t going to get to Ingrid before this person caught up to them.

  She leaned in to Betty 2, who was apparently named Judith, whispering softly so not to catch her off guard. “Betty, keep going. Get to Gabe and Ingrid. This guy is getting close and I’m gonna have to do some magic to hold him at bay, which I can do, but I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m, uh, not very precise sometimes. Keep going, but be quiet.”

  Betty 2 placed a hand on Emily’s arm. “I’d stay here and help you, but my magic is all but drained. I ran out of energy before we got in the pool. You be careful.”

  Emily stayed against the wall while Betty 2 kept moving. Emily hoped that the psycho killer would continue to follow Betty 2 and not notice that a person was missing from the group. She was going to sneak up behind him and light his hair on fire. She tried to silence her breathing while she waited and it mostly worked. From her position against the wall, she saw that Betty 2 was quite a ways down the wall from where Emily was. Good. But when she turned her head back to look for psycho killer, he was gone.

  Shit. Her eyes strained to try and see in the dark. Had he gone underwater? What the hell? Had he gotten past her somehow?

  Enough was enough. Emily was tired of being afraid. With a flick of her wrist and more force of will than skill, Emily could feel the magic flow through her. She tried to ignore her abilities most of the time, but today she was going to light up these tunnels like it was the damned fourth of July. She pulled the magic through her body and could feel it gathering strength in her fingertips. She’d just blast a fireball in between where she was and where Betty was. Just as she could feel the ball of light and heat form in her hands, it disappeared. Completely. She couldn’t feel her magic at all anymore, not even the dull presence that was always there when she was working so hard to ignore it.

  A male voice penetrated her thoughts just before a blood curdling escaped managed to escape her throat. “Now, Miss Brown, that’s no way to treat an ally. What would Dean say if you made a toasted marshmallow out of the fellow who came to free you from the Catacombs?”

  “Dean? Dean sent you? Who the hell are you?” Her eyes finally focused on him. He was only an arm’s length away from her and he looked he worked for Scotland Yard with a hat, trench coat, and spectacles. Somehow, though he was chest deep in water, he was completely dry. That was a spell she was going to have to learn. Damn it.

  He had a friendly smile and his eyes twinkled when he spoke, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Emily. You are Emily, I guess? Your curls and your fireball sort of gave you away.”

  She didn’t answer, entirely skeptical of this too convenient arrival on the scene of this serial murder situation, so he kept talking.

  “My name is Remy Thorpe. I share an employer with a Dean, who seems quite smitten with you. You are hard to find, my dear. Even with a lock of your hair, there are so many magical wards down here, I had a very tough time locating you. Forgive me for blocking your magic. I wasn’t sure I could convince you not to cook me before I could explain who sent me.”

  “How did Dean know I was here?”

  “I believe your aunt called him.”

  Emily could believe that her scary Auntie Hazel would sense the danger and send in help. It wouldn't surprise Emily that Hazel would call in Dean. There was the side thought that Hazel was able to get a hold of him when Emily couldn’t, but that was a thought for later.

  She wanted to believe this guy, she really did. The thought of Dean warmed her up, even in the chilly water, but Remy here was a stranger. And he could work for the Presidium and know Dean and also be a bad guy. Or he could just be really good at magic. Could witches get names like Hazel and Dean without being part of the Presidium? And the person who’d killed Abel and then taken Lucie was a very bad dude. No, she couldn’t afford to trust him that easily. Maybe Ingrid had some truth serum in her snack bag.

  “I don’t know if you are who you say you are, but you are going to swim ahead of me, very slowly, until we catch up with my friends who are right around the corner. Then we’ll see about what I believe. But if you think I’m prone to setting people on fire, you should see Ingrid.”

  He put his hands up in the air as if to surrender, even though he could quite easily just drown Emily right here and there wouldn't be a lot she could do to stop him. He had at least 8 inches of height on her plus a hundred pounds. Well, that’s a good sign, she thought. He slowly inched forward and she could feel the dull presence of her magic return. Another good sign.

  Emily looked ahead and Betty 2 was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully, she’d made it to Gabe and Ingrid and warned them to be watching for someone coming from the rear. Emily could now see the flashlights from the rest of the group and saw that they were up and out of the water now. Good, she wanted to be out of this water now. Sooner than now. Yesterday would be fine. Ugh, why had they come into these stupid tunnels anyway?

  Gabe called out, “Emily?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. We’ve got a visitor. Seems he might work with Dean. Remy Thorpe is his name, supposedly. It sounds suspicious to me. Like a name a serial killer would use to set his victims at ease.”

  Remy kept his hands in the air as he slowly made his way up the steps and out of the water. Emily knew he could wreak havoc on their little group with a magical flick of his wrist if he wanted to. Another good sign, possibly, or maybe he was just trying to catch them off guard?

  Gabe spoke up, “You’ll forgive us for being cautious. We’ve had some trouble down here.”

  “Of course,” Remy said. “Ask me anything you like. As I told Emily, Dean sent me to track Emily down. He wants her to call him but needs to get her a clean phone.”

  “He has my number,” Emily said suspiciously.

  Ingrid stepped closer to Emily as if it were possible for Ingrid to protect Emily from a Presidium witch. Those guys were the best of the best. And Ingrid and Emily were on the worst end of the spectrum.

  “I’ve been trying to track you down since I got to Paris about 24 hours ago, but the magical wards all over these catacombs made the job difficult.”

  Emily tried to ignore her heart skipping beats at the thought of Dean and put on her best skeptical voice. “Start at the beginning, Remy Thorpe, and tell me everything you know about Dean, me, and how you knew I was in Paris.”

  Chapter 9

  “I don’t want to head back that way,” Ingrid told Emily. Ingrid was looking back and forth. But the truth wa
s she didn’t want to go any way. If that were an option, she’d sit down and refuse to move. She wanted to be magically transported from these hell tunnels of death and madness directly to her hotel bathtub. That bathroom had a jet tub and once she got inside of it, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get out. They’d been following the tunnel out of the catacombs for a while only to have some random Presidium dude show up from behind them.

  Gabe, the professor, and the backpacker were clustered around the Presidium dude while Fiona paced behind them in the shadows and the old couple stood close enough by to listen. They leaned into each other and seemed to be moving through sheer force of will. Ingrid identified with them completely.

  Fiona had put up her hood and seemed to be shivering and moving for warmth.

  “But he says he knows where he’s going,” Emily said. She said it in that tone that implied she was humoring Ingrid which was making Ingrid want to slam her into the stone wall and hurt her best friend a little bit. But she thought that perhaps she wasn’t fully in her right mind.

  They were standing to the side of the larger group. The Presidium guy had led them into a side cavern that was pretty large, so they weren’t on top of each other. Which was good, because Ingrid hated every single person in the catacombs right now except Emily and Gabe.

  “Listen,” Ingrid said, taking Emily’s arm to tuck her tighter into the corner. “I’m feeling violent and hungry-angry. I need you to look me in the eye and answer me a question, seriously.”

  “You smell. Horrifically,” Emily said. “If that’s what you wanted to know. You’re carrying the aura of death water and puke on you.”

  “Oh. My,” Ingrid choked and looked down at herself. She didn’t know how nasty she looked, but there was very little doubt that she was disgusting. “Listen you cow-dove—”

  “Listening,” Emily smirked.

  “I know what you’re doing and it’s working.”

  “So you aren’t going to curl into yourself in the corner and make me drag you out?”

  Ingrid’s eyes narrowed and she said, “I could probably set you on fire.”

  “Please do. I’m cold.”

  “I hate your stupid face.”

  “You love everything about me,” Emily said. “I am your best dove and as soon as we’re clean again, you’re going to want me to go buy shoes and makeup with you.”

  “What I was going to say,” Ingrid said in distinct and angry syllables was, “What do you feel?”

  “Why are you doing that again?” Emily’s gaze shifted to the side and Ingrid grabbed her friend by the shoulders.

  “I. MUST. Get. Out.” Tears were welling in Ingrid’s eyes and she felt an overwhelming need to scream that was held back only by the shreds of self-control she had left. If she lost it, Gabe wouldn’t be at his best game, and she needed him to keep the three of them alive. “You have talents. USE. THEM. Or I swear to the gods, I will tell Hazel who lost her black pearls.”

  “We replaced those,” Emily said in hoarse whisper glancing over her shoulder as if her auntie could see them at that moment.

  “But she knows something is different,” Ingrid said. “And she’ll make you pay. So. Hard.”

  “You are an evil hooker from the lowest hells who deserves to be clawed apart by alien jackals.”

  Ingrid snorted and Emily met her gaze and then laughed.

  “I hate you,” Emily said softly, linking her arm with Ingrid’s. “I think he’s ok.”

  “Really?” There might have been a smidgen of desperate whine in her voice.

  “Yes. So do you.”

  Ingrid swallowed. She did. Damn it. She just really didn’t want to feel like she was heading deeper into the catacombs even if they were supposedly following someone who knew the way out.

  “It’s horrible here,” Ingrid said. She stepped closer to Emily. They were both so cold that it hurt, they were so tired their limbs were heavy, and they were moving on sheer force of will and terror.

  “Are you ok?” Betty 2 asked them. “You’re very pale, Ingrid.”

  “I just need it to be over,” Ingrid said, as if the mere question of her well-being didn’t have her eyes welling up. She was not normally this emotional.

  “It will be soon,” Betty 2 said, and there was something about it that was so ominous. “My magic is about drained keeping me and Bernard going, but your coven leader sent Remy. You are very lucky to have such a powerful coven leader.”

  Ingrid blinked and then nodded as if she’d guessed the whole time that those two were witches. She saw the flash of surprise that crossed Emily’s face.

  “Ingrid is a delicate flower,” Emily said. “And she eats like a starving horse, so it’s been too long for her to function above zombie level.”

  Betty 2 laughed as if Ingrid hadn’t been snacking out of her purse for most of this…how long had it been? Goodness, she didn’t even want to know.

  “That man of yours is a keeper,” Betty 2 said, “Are you married or shall I try to snag him from you?”

  “Hey now,” Bernard said Ingrid hadn’t even noticed him behind his wife.

  “Babe,” Betty 2 said, “Your butt isn’t as nice as Gabe’s anymore. I can’t live off of memories.”

  Emily’s snort of laughter was so surprised she choked on it which had Ingrid cackling like the hysterical loon she was.

  “We’re going to get going,” Gabe said when she stopped laughing. She’d been laughing too hard to notice he’d broken away from the others to come towards them. She nodded and put on her mining lamp, deliberately turning on the light in a stupid attempt to tease him. He was so much taller than her, it hit his chest and she wasn’t cruel enough to look up at him and shine it in his eyes, so she turned to her head to the side and started a huge stretch.

  But then she froze. Her head tilted and she took one small step forward before taking a very large one back.

  “What is it?” Gabe asked, turning her light to the side, so he could examine her face.

  “What is that?” She asked. It was…goodness no. No. No. No.

  She took a step towards Gabe, put her face into his chest and pointed towards what she had seen. A hand. A hand with neon pink fingernails so even in this place of shadows, you could see the color.

  She heard him curse.

  “Stay with Emily, Bernard, and Betty,” he said.

  “What’s happening?” Betty 2 asked but Bernard was the one who answered, “Don’t look, Jude. You don’t need to see.”

  Ingrid looked at Emily and Emily looked back at Ingrid.

  “I’m not going over there,” Emily said.

  “I don’t need dead people gook on me again.”

  “What is dead people gook?” Bernard asked. “And why do you say again?”

  “We have the worst luck ever,” Ingrid told him without explaining. Too many bodies for one lifetime and far, far too many murders.

  “I don’t understand,” Betty 2 said. She sounded frustrated and Ingrid could understand that. She hated being left out of the loop.

  “It’s Lucie,” Ingrid said.

  “It’s Lucie,” Emily repeated, “And there is Fiona.”

  Ingrid glanced over and found Fiona sitting on the side of the tunnel, her face pressed into her knees, hood still up. Ingrid had a best friend and—yes, maybe they were closer than most. But, as much as she hated bodies, she’d have been on her knees, next to Emily, slapping at her to wake up. Gabe would have to drag Ingrid off of Emily before Ingrid would leave her friend alone. Dead or not.

  She watched Fiona, not moving. Not asking. No sarcastic comments and she said, “Well that ripe bitch.”

  “She deserves a hot place in a cold hell,” Emily said.

  “What?” Bernard said. “She’s just mourning her friend.”

  “That isn’t how a spoiled princess mourns,” Ingrid told him. “She’s been tossing that hair about all day. Why is her hood up now?”

  “You know why,” Emily said. “We should have guessed.
It’s always the friends or family. Who else knew Lucie before we got here?”

  “And there was the way Lucie got all scratched up before.”

  “And there’s the fact that she didn’t freak out over the blood. Not curl in on herself like I would have,” Emily added, “If it were you. She kept going. I wanted it to be because she was afraid, but…”

  The two of them looked at each other. “What did she say she was? A witch?”

  “She’s a shapeshifter,” Betty 2 said.

  “I hope that she turns into a rat dog,” Ingrid muttered.

  “What do we do?” Emily asked.

  “Pretend we suspect nothing, get out of here, and leave it to the cops. No police officer in his right mind will think it wasn’t her.” Maybe Ingrid had too much faith in the police given that Gabe was one, but France had to have good forensics. They were going to get evidence off of that body. It was probably why Fiona wanted to kill her friend in these catacombs. But in the catacombs? Somewhere they’d never find the body. “She’s got to be crazy.”

  “I bet she was planning on disappearing from us, leaving us all down here to die, and then being the one survivor who made her way to freedom.” Emily said.

  “Let's…” Ingrid glanced around and said Gabe’s mantra, “We stay together. We don’t challenge her. We get out.”

  “We get out,” Emily repeated nodding. The two of them turned to the older couple who didn’t seem as convinced as Ingrid and Emily were. They didn’t need to be. They just needed to be quiet.

  Bernard nodded and Betty 2 hesitated. The woman was full fire cracker. You could see her thinking that Fiona needed to either mourn her friend or needed to be beat down. But she finally nodded.

  “We just need to get out,” Ingrid repeated.

  Bernard nodded again and then said to his wife, “They’re right.”

  “Who would have thought these two would be right?”

  Emily and Ingrid looked at each other and then back at Betty 2.