Our path takes us by the pool table. Ric looks far too pleased with the lottery, and as I pass, he leans forward. “You better start running.”
Out in the corridor, I lift my dress as I zigzag through the mansion with André. Theclick-clackof heels has me glancing back to find Luci right behind us. “This way,” she says, passing us and turning into an empty room. The three of us race through, ending up in a rear hallway.
“Where are we going?” I ask, slowing and pulling my hand from André’s.
“We only have a minute’s head start, and like I said, I plan to win.” He nods to Luci who’s several paces ahead of us. She leads us into a ridiculously large kitchen and down a short passage to a white metal door.
When she punches a button, I draw back. “We are going up, right?”
“No,” André answers. “The house might be more comfortable, but the ones who hide inside are the first ones found.”
“Other people ran upstairs.”
André lifts his huge shoulders. “Maybe they don’t want to get their clothes dirty. Or maybe they’re too scared.”
“Scared of what?” I ask, but the doors have opened and he’s already pulling me into the tiny elevator.
Luci taps a button to close the doors. She and André look at each other, laughing between frantic breaths.
I want to share their excitement, but I’m more concerned with the drop in my stomach. The elevator is going down. Far down.
I twist my hands together, hoping we’re headed to a basement or wine cellar. But when the door opens, light spills from the cab into a dark tunnel. The first thing I see is a wall of skulls.
A hundred hollow sockets stare at us, black holes where eyes used to be. “What are those doing here?”
“It’s the catacombs,” André says, giving me a look as if I shouldn’t have to ask.
“I know, but skulls? Here? Beneath a house?”
Luci steps out for a moment, and a single light turns on, its dome creating a sickly, yellow illumination. “Legally,” she says, “the owners of a residence have the right to access the property below, including the famous catacombs. But you’ll never see this section on a commercialized tour.”
André chuckles. “Especially when the property is one like Maison Marteau.”
“Great,” I say, peering out in both directions. Spaced ten or fifteen feet apart, more lights cast the tunnel in an eerie glow.
Luci leads us to the right, walking with confidence in the gravel, despite her high heels.
As we move deeper underground, a strange smell assaults my nose. I don’t want to think about the source of the musty scent or how long it’s been down here.
As we creep through the shadows, Luci stops on occasion, looking one way and then the other way before deciding where to go. At one point, we come face-to-face with a large headstone. Situated on a mound of dirt, the tablet sits in front of a wall of femurs, French text engraved on the stone.
I make out the words “combat” and “éternité” with a date inscribed below. Some kind of memorial.
Luci and André stop and speak rapidly in French. As they plot our next move, I wander toward a side tunnel.
Luci grabs my arm. “Not that way.” Her eyes are wide, almost afraid. “Please, stay close. The tunnels flood when we have too much rain.”
I think of the girl found down here years before. A child, lost and alone in the cold, damp, dark. Is it possible she drowned? Or developed hypothermia? Trapped in an endless maze filled with bones.
A cold shudder shakes my body.
What a horrible way to die.
A scraping sound echoes in the tunnel behind us.
“Shh,” Luci hisses, guiding us to a small alcove. “Wait here.”
“Where are you…” I trail off, because she’s already gone.
