Sometime later they reached the Louvre, the long gray buildings on the left abruptly turning into the Jardin des Tuileries. The stretch of greenery was filled with people, tourists and locals alike taking advantage of a warm summer day. Maxim drove through a maze of traffic, past a grand fountain, and eventually turned onto the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. Jono stared ahead, the wide avenue lined by trees and shops on both sides, crowded with people.
The Arc de Triomphe came into view, rising over the traffic. They’d almost reached the roundabout when Maxime pulled over to the side of the road in a bus stop.
“I will let Helene know you are here,” Maxime said, looking at his mobile rather than at them.
“What does she look like?” Sage asked.
He hummed, minimizing his text to show off the home screen and the picture of a woman that was the background. Jono memorized her face before following Sage out of the car.
“Merci,” Jono said.
Maxime didn’t say anything in response, merely drove off before anyone started honking at him. They hurried onto the sidewalk, Sage leading the way to the pedestrian tunnel that would take them under the famous roundabout to the center island. They moved easily through the crowd in the tunnel, bypassing the lines of people waiting to buy tickets from the kiosks to get to the top of the Arc de Triomphe.
Human and not-so-human scents hit Jono’s nose, but none smelled threatening. That could’ve changed if he hadn’t been wearing his sunglasses to hide his eyes. God pack alpha werecreatures weren’t liked on the best of days, and he didn’t much care to deal with a frightened public, especially one that might not understand what he had to say.
“There we go,” Sage muttered as they came upon the stairs leading up to the center island.
They took the steps up at an easy pace, packed in on all sides by tourists eager to see the famous monument. They arrived aboveground in the center of the roundabout, the Arc de Triomphe rising above them. The island itself was crowded with people, the ever-moving traffic in the roundabout surrounding filled with the noise of engines, horns, and squealing brakes.
Jono dialed up his senses as he looked around, standing taller than most of the people around them. He could see two separate Police Nationale vans parked on either side of the Arc de Triomphe. The police themselves wandered the area, along with men and women in military uniforms, the lot of them a heavily armed security presence that tourists gave a wide berth to.
He remembered what Maxime smelled like, and it took only one circuit of the island to find Helene. He recognized her face and the underlying faint scent of Maxime she carried with her. She seemed to be scanning the area, as if looking for them. Her gaze drifted past them before refocusing on them as they approached her.
“Bonjour,” Sage said with a friendly smile. “Are you Helene?”
“Oui,” Helene said.
“Maxime sent us. Is it possible to speak with you for a few minutes?”
Her partner said something in French that caused anger to cut through her scent, though it never showed on her face. Helene ignored him before gesturing for them to follow her, putting distance between them and the other police, but not her duty to guard the monument.
“Maxime said you had some questions. I’ll answer what I can, but I don’t know how much help I can be,” Helene said in a thick French accent. “I was demoted last year when word got out I was engaged to Maxime.”
Jono had a vague idea what sort of insult her partner must have said to make her angry. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “What is it you need?”
“Can you tell us if the police have done anything to prevent the Orthodox Church of the Dead from operating in Paris?” Sage asked.
Helene frowned. “You are asking about the Catacomb rumors?”
“We know you have missing and dead people, most of them from the preternatural world, but I’m sure there’s some mundane humans thrown in there as well. Your government wouldn’t have closed them off for so long if it was only werecreatures going missing.”
“The Orthodox Church of the Dead is not welcome in Paris, but hunting down the perpetrators has not been a top priority.”
“Because it was only werecreatures who were dying at first?” Jono guessed.
“Oui. Some magic users as well, but the covens and families they came from had no political power. They were mostly from immigrant communities in the surrounding arrondissements. Only when some cataphiles and tourists went missing is when the government closed the Catacombs.”
“You never found any of the missing?”
“Non.”
Jono remembered how Patrick had described the underground room filled with bodies and wondered if the police had even tried looking for the missing, or if they thought they could use the rumors to seal off the Catacombs to illegal entry for good.
“Mireille and Gaspard said they banned all the packs from Catacomb entrances. Do you know where those are?” Sage asked.
Helene shrugged. “I don’t know the locations, but they are everywhere in Paris. Hidden doors, manhole covers, holes in the Metro tunnels are mostly how the cataphiles get below.”
