Patience glared down at the map on the bartop. She was slumped over the bar, a whiskey in one hand and the other clutching a hank of her own curls. Music played over the speakers, glasses clinked, and people talked loudly over one another, all mashing together to make an even din. Hours in the catacombs crawling through dirt and decay had left her in need of noise. The silence, beneath the streets of Paris, was deafening. Her eye's searched the intricate criss crossings of lines and markings that were all scrawled in her own hand. She'd been down tunnel after tunnel, through crevices, over remains, into pools of rancid water, and still nothing. The passage she was searching for was nowhere to be found.
Downing the last of her whiskey she slammed it onto the bartop and waved her hand for another without looking up. The barkeep didn't like her, all in all she was a horrible customer, silent and intense at her corner of the bar, but she tipped well and always settled her tab so her whiskey was refreshed and replaced quickly. Patience took a swig and sighed. There was a gaping hole in her map. An 80 by 100 foot swath of uncharted territory smack dab in the middle. She'd checked her work a thousand times and there was no miscalculation. She'd scoured every inch of the surrounding tunnels with a fine toothed comb and couldn't find a single passable route. She was seconds from dousing the map with whiskey when someone sat on the stool next to her. A quick glance to her right told her that it wasn't a mistake or a forced move. The large man next to her smiled at her with a crooked, cocky grin and one elbow leaned onto the bar top.
"Bonjour, Mademoiselle." He was a large man, tanned and musclebound with dark brown eyes and a mop of brown curls; handsome by all accounts. Patience did her best not to look like she was infuriated by his intrusion on her thought process so her smile seemed completely strained. She wasn't a rude person, but this was her sanctuary and she was tired of swatting at the barflies.
"Bonjour, Monsieur, you will have to forgive me I don't speak French." A lie, but that usually got them to sod off. His crooked grin spread and showed dazzling white teeth. She wanted to roll her eyes.
"Bon, then you will give me the chance to practice my English." Merde.
"You don't seem to need any practice." She mumbled as she realized that this particular bar fly intended to make a nuisance of himself.
"Merci." He said giving a mock bow with his free arm. "May I ask what you are working on?" He gestured to her map and Patience found herself reach for it defensively. This map was her baby. It was the culmination of months worth of work, and if anything happened to it she would most likely curl into a ball and die. "I am only curious." He reassured, entirely unphased,"I wish only to know what has your beautiful face scrunched in frustration." Patience raised a brow at his compliment and felt a small grin quirk her lips. This man was certainly more ballsy than most.
"It's a map." She stated as she turned back to look at it. He leaned towards her and took a gander at the large piece of paper in front of her.
"Of the catacombs?" He asked, taking a finger and caressing one of the latin transcriptions she had marked on her map.
"Yeah, but how did you know that?" She gave him a suspicious look and a raised eyebrow. He shrugged and winked at her.
"I'm something of an extreme sportsman. Caving is a hobby of mine. I've seen that before on the wall of the catacombs."
"Civilians aren't supposed to go into restricted areas." She said accusingly. She'd had enough trouble with rascals stealing her equipment and spray painting on the walls for her liking and she wasn't about to conceal her distaste.
"What is your excuse, Ma Cheri?" He asked, seemingly amused by her ire. Patience frowned at his familiarity and sat a bit straighter in defiance.
"I'm a doctor of anthropology and archaeology. I have a permit." She stated with a smug smile. His eyebrows rose, whether in surprise or amazement she didn't know.
"My apologies, Doctor…?" The flirtatious twinkle had never left his eye and she found herself perfectly willing to tell him her name. Which was farther than any of the other bar flies had gotten.
"Dr. Patience Sin Claire." She held out her hand and rather than shaking it as expected, he took it and kissed her knuckles, a devilish grin on his face the entire time. Yanking her hand back she nearly flushed in embarrassment, but her pride wouldn't allow such a thing. He'd caught her off guard and he bloody well knew it. Frenchmen, devils all of them.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Jean-Luc." He nodded as though tipping his hat and released her hand. "What brings a woman of your intellect to our lowly catacombs?" There was a tone of mock drama in his voice as he inclined his head to her and leaned in a bit closer. It was almost cheesy the way he was coming on to her, and he was walking a tight line between being annoying and flattering. She eyed him and then took another pull of her whiskey. Despite already feeling a bit warm and buzzed, she was obviously going to need some fortification.
"I have a grant to find a passage and document it." Her answer was very vague, and intentionally so. He leaned his elbow back onto the bar and rested the side of his head on his knuckles.
"There are many passages in the catacombs. I assume they mean for you to find a specific one." His tone was teasing. God he must think himself irresistible, and certainly to some women he must be. Patience knew women who would throw their ovaries at his feet if he so much as looked in their direction, but she wasn't one to be impressed by muscles and a toothy grin.
"Naturally." Her tone was politely final on the subject and he assessed her for a moment.
"Alright, if you don't wish to tell me, then answer this; have you found it yet?" Patience thought for a moment before shaking her head.
"Do I look like the kind of girl who wants to stare at a shitty map in a crowded bar for the fun of it?" She gave a smirk of her own and downed the last of her third whiskey for the evening. She definitely felt buzzed now, and she found herself questioning that wise decision.
"Well since you asked, yes. You look like the kind of girl who would rather stare down a treasure map than do anything else." He ordered a scotch from the barkeep and took a large swig of it. Patience snorted and shook her head.
"It isn't a treasure map. I'm not some kind of pirate." She said, more than a little bit amused by his misconception.
"Really?" He asked, feigning surprise. "Because I'll bet anything that whatever you're looking for is as good as treasure to you." He pointed at her with his pinky as he held his glass.
"A hidden chapel full of old bones is hardly treasure." She didn't believe her own words of course. She had an obsession with historical items, which had fueled her through the long nights living on nothing but ramen noodles as she worked on her doctoral exams.
"So you're looking for a hidden chapel then?" He said intrigued. Patience stiffened and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Now she knew he was a devil.
"That wasn't fair." She grumbled, beginning to fold up her map and stow it in her purse. She didn't like being tricked into things and he had stepped hard on the annoying side of her imaginary boundary line.
"Perhaps I don't play fair... and perhaps I know of a passage that might lead you to your hidden chapel." He looked at her as though he was the cat who'd caught the canary. As badly as she wanted to wipe the smug look off of his face, he had piqued her interest. Her pride and her obsession with the chappel battled inside of her as she glared at him. Grudgingly she sat back down on her stool.
"Go on."
JEAN-LUC POV
The fiery little woman glared him down. He was thoroughly pleased with himself as she sat back into her chair and eyed him suspiciously.
"Your map, it is missing a passage." He stated simply as he motioned for her to replace it on the table. Patience hesitated and examined him before slowly pulling it out of her purse and spreading it back onto the bar top. She was a full head shorter than he, and was athletically built. Wild red curls framed her face and spilled down her shoulder onto her white tank top. She had intrigued him the moment he saw her. Everything about her screamed of a challenge. As soon as the map was spread once again he leaned over her, close enough to smell her patchouli shampoo and placed his finger on one of the walls marked on her map. It was directly on the eastern side of the blank space that made up the center. She snorted and looked at him with a scrunched face of disbelief. The wrinkle in her nose was adorable. It reminded him of someone else. Another intelligent woman he knew a long time ago.
"You're full of shitt. I've searched that passage from top to bottom. There is one crevice in there and it is impossible to pass through." She stated with certainty. He gave a hearty laugh and shook his head.
"Impossible? Are you so sure? Because I've been through that crevice, and there is an archway on the other side." He watched as her pale, freckled face became white as a sheet. All of her sass seemed to drain out of her and she stared at him in a strange mix of awe and shock.
"What?" She murmured as he began to chuckle. It was like a switch flipped and suddenly she was grabbing his shirt front trying to shake him. "Was there an inscription!? Above the door?! Was there!?" Desperation filled her hazel eyes and he smirked at her.
"Ut defunctis requiem sanctorum in pace" Another transformation came over her face. She looked as though she had seen the face of god.
"You have to show me how to get through that crevice!" She demanded her hands still gripping his shirt front. She looked fully prepared to attempt to shake him down, like a small dog baring it's teeth at a wolf. Where did she get the guts? He shrugged and pulled her little hands off of his shirt. They were rough for a woman's hands.
"Alright. I'll show you."He said simply as he took another swig of his scotch. Confusion puckered her brow and then suspicion set in.
"What's the catch?" She had recomposed herself and the air of defiance once again graced her otherwise pleasant features.
"Catch?" He gave her a dazzling smile, but she remained completely unphased. "There is no catch, ma cheri. I simply wish to aide you in the historical research of my fine country." One amber brow rose and and challenged him in disbelief. She was a cynical little woman wasn't she?
"Now, no more whiskey, I won't take you if you are hungover." Jean-Luc snatched her whiskey glass off the table and handed it to the passing bartender.
"Excuse me?" She snapped, obviously none to appreciative of his commanding tone.
"Would you like to die at a young age, because you got yourself stuck in a crevice?" He countered, taking another sip of his scotch. Her eye flicked between his face and the scotch. "I have a tolerance." He answered her unspoken question with a quirk of his brow. She gave a huff and crossed her arms. God did she ever remind him of Belle. A wilder, more fiery version, but the defiance was all the same.
"Why are you helping me if there isn't a catch?" She asked after a long moment of quiet.
"Why must there be a catch?" He looked down at her, still leaning rather close. Women were always more malleable when he was close. It distracted them.
"There is always a catch with men like you." Her voice held a certain bitterness that Jean-Luc found all too familiar. She had been burned before, most likely by a man exactly like himself. It was no wonder she was so cynical. Of course she was rightly so. He donned his most convincing look of sincerity and lost his smirk.
"No catch, besides, crawling through the catacombs in search of lost treasure sounds like adventure to me." He took a final swig of his scotch and set his empty glass on the bartop. "I'll meet you out front tomorrow, dress appropriately and be prepared to hate life." He said with a smirk before slapping a bill on the table and walking out of the bar. Not without winking to the bartender of course.
Jean-Luc stepped out onto the streets of Paris, his cocky smirk transformed into a look of dread. If she proved to be the sort of woman she appeared to be… He had searched for so long. Women these days were vapid and squeamish. It had been decades since he had come across a woman who had any chance of equalling Belle, but he had seen it in her eyes. When he had spoken the inscription her face had filled with wonder and awe. It was a look he remembered so clearly. Belle would make it whenever she would lay eyes on a new book. He frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets. Belle's face would torment him for the rest of eternity if he could not undo what he had done, and Dr. Patience Sin Claire could be the key to saving his soul. He stuck the key into the door of his luxurious sports car and got in. He had a long night in the catacombs ahead of him.
Patience watched the large man strut out of the bar and the moment he was out of sight, flagged down the bartender. She was a petite woman with a daringly low cut blouse and a short bob cut that favoured her cute nose and pouty lips.
"Who was that man?" Patience asked. The bartender tisked, and laughed.
"Jean-Luc La Fleur." She batted a bit of hair out of her face and leaned over the bar, obviously prepared to provide whatever gossip Patience desired. "He is very wealthy. You should pin him down as quickly as possible." The bartender gave her a cheeky smile and batted her big green eyes at Patience. "Unless of course men are not your preference." Green eyes gave Patience a slow once over. Patience quirked a smile and shrugged.
"The preferences change with my mood." Flirting never hurt when you were trying to get information. She'd learned that a long time ago. "What do you know about him.?" Patience wasn't going to go wandering around the catacombs with a man she knew nothing about. She needed to be sure he wasn't some Bundy type nutjob. The french woman gave a little pout and sighed. She tapped the bar top with one perfectly, pink, manicured nail and raised her eyebrows. Patience sighed and reached into her purse. She slid a bill under where the lovely pink nail had been. Finding the offering satisfactory, the bartender grabbed it and slipped it into her bra.
"He comes every night for one week each month. Usually comes to town for business, he lives in La Fleur de Bois. He owns half of the town, and is rolling in tourist money from allowing visitors into an old church he owns." The woman was straight to the point and didn't waste her breath with anything unnecessary. "He usually prowls for bimbos, I'm not sure why you caught his eye, you're not his usual type." Another once over from those green eyes. Patience nodded and threw down the money for her tab, plus a tip.
"Thanks, I'll take that into consideration." Patience made to collect her things and was surprised when a little pink card was slipped into her hand.
"In case your mood changes." She said with a wink. An unstoppable grin spread over Patience's lips and she nodded as she scooped up her bag and stowed her things before exiting the bar. She had a call to make and a lot of thinking to do.
The beast stood sentinel atop the highest tower of his castle. All was quiet, but the air was rife with tension. His hackles stood raised against the wind, and his flesh shook with anger. He had been prowling about the castle for days, leaving destruction in his path. His demons whispered in his ears leaving him restless and violent. An endless torment of blame, and hatred, and bitterness humming in his mind. His fault, all his fault, nothing but a monster. The dark cloud hanging over his head weighed heavily on him, and the whole castle had suffered for it. As if they haven't already suffered enough. A vicious roar ripped out of the Beast's chest and a gargoyle crumbled beneath his paws, smashing onto the roof below. The beast spun about and ran down the spiral staircase on all fours. There was not a piece of furniture in his chambers that did not bare the scars of his wrath. He had long since surrendered himself to living like a beast, for what was he if not a lowly animal? What was once a stately four poster bed had been transformed into a broken nest of down and torn cloth. He was intent upon curling up in his nest and withdrawing into his self hatred when he scented Lumier.
"What do you want!?" The beast snarled, baring his teeth at his unflappable Maitre D'. Lumier stood tall, hands behind his back and, burning golden eyes glaring daggers into his Master. Handsome man, how dare he be a handsome man.
"The funeral is about to begin." Lumier announced calmly. The Beast dove into his nest petulantly and growled.
"I will not attend." Not brave enough to see it. Cowardly, stupid, beast. The beast clawed at his ears as though they burned him. Lumier watched, pitiless, and full of anger.
" will not forgive you." Lumier's tone was ice cold. He had obediently served his master for over 600 years. He had born insults, and abuses, but he would not stay silent any longer. The Beast roared and a broken chair sailed towards Lumier, missing him by mere inches. It was all ire, and bark. The Master had never struck him, not once, and Lumier was in no mood to scurry.
"After 600 years you are still nothing more than a petulant child!" He snapped. The beast roared and again clawed at his ears violently. Nothing but a child, stupid and ugly and beastly! Lumier scoffed and turned on his heel, pausing by the door. "You will attend, or I will be the next to walk through those gates. I will not serve a coward." Lumier opened the door and slammed it, leaving the beasts agonized howls behind him. The servants stood solemnly in the corridor, looking at him with long, worried faces.
"You ought'nt have said those things." sobbed into a kerchief.
"I said what I had to say." Lumier put an arm around the older woman and soothed her gently. "Go and ready the Master for the service, we will not begin without him." He said waving two of the manservants off. They bowed and disappeared into the Master's chambers, followed by a cacophony of splintering wood.