! DISCLAIMER !
The Catacombs beneath Paris are a very real place and the cataphiles who reside there are very real people. In no way do I condone these activities. The Catacombs are dangerous, and you will get lost. If you are compelled to go, I urge you visit the legal official tour. Any OC likeness to any real people/cataphiles is pure coincidence. Many rooms and traditions named are real, and don't belong to me.
This story contains explicit language, drug references, blood and mild gore, and potentially scary sequences.
I just need to thank a-c-u-l-o-s for all her support and hype. She encourages me and is my main rock while I write this! Another big thanks to Tarchey and cryingprotection for their support, help, and friendship, and to TheFowlestofthemall for looking over my draft. And thank you everyone on discord who made me excited to post this!
I love this fandom so very much. I hope I can bring you all a fun journey with this fic. And remember, this is only part 1 of 2!
Definitely leave your thoughts and opinions! I'm so curious to engage!
2018
Paris, France
Indiana Café
On the corner of Place Denfert-Rochereau sits a peculiar individual.
An elegant woman arches a sharp brow at the historic architecture across the street. Her manicured nails hit the table top impatiently, little tips and taps at the glass. She waits - for someone, or something, a passerby won't know. Perhaps, she was to take the infamous tour across the street.
A gentle breeze cools her cheeks and a soft smile embraces the chill wind that blows through her blonde curls. Minerva Paradiso closes her eyes. She allows the smile on her chin to fall into steepled fingers.
The Parisian street bustles with stray chatter and tourist confusion. Gentle jazz lulls in an aromatic air of cigarettes and espresso, though the espresso may be due in fault to her.
Minerva curls a finger under the cup's handle, warm brew a comfort to her bones. Smoky, grey eyes catch the time on her watch - a little after noon now.
Right, then, she sighs. On we go.
She stands in sleek white sneakers and throws a few euro onto the tabletop, not caring for change. She holds her cashmere white coat close as she nears the building across the street, careful to cross traffic as autumn leaves guide her path through the air.
The entrance to Les Catacombes de Paris is filled with eager tourists but Minerva slips past the line with ease. She flashes a ticket on her phone to a clerk, a stout man who returns her warm smile and grants her entry with a wave of his hand.
130 steps into the earth later, Minerva strolls beneath a warning etched on the archway above:
Arrête! C'est ici l'empire de la Mort. (Halt! This is the Empire of Death.)
Undeterred, she continues through neatly stacked walls of skulls and bones, her French audio guide blabbering around delicate vertebrae. Chilling, but if she's honest with herself, the genius was rather bored. Limber legs sway through dim tunnels while inquisitive eyes scan a wall of bones. To the average passerby, she's a curious young woman. But in reality, Minerva's mind is occupied elsewhere.
Bibliothèque Mazarine is the oldest public library in France - yet for some reason is often overlooked in favor of other libraries across the city. The modern collection of French history from the 12th–17th centuries was enough to pique Minerva's interest, and since the library was also known to house thousands of rare, medieval manuscripts, she's positive they'll have just what she needs. Her concern wasn't if they had what she desired, but how she could obtain it without anyone noticing.
Clean fingertips dance against worn leather and old pages. Minerva halts. She breathes in the air of the grand library. She just has to appreciate its history and secrets. A genius' paradis.
Gold, gilded letters amongst a sea of books catch her eye, the vintage text hardly legible. Minerva slides thin glasses up the bridge of her nose to carefully analyze the title. If anyone could decipher the text, it would be her. The white dress beneath her coat sways at her knees as she bends to peer closer.
Père-Lachaise Registre
A pearly smile befalls her lips. "Parfaite."
Minerva takes a quick glance around, peeling the title from the massive bookcase. She ducks into the aisle, hurried fingers fly through the pages when - there: A map.
Minerva's grin turns prideful. Père-Lachaise was one of the large cemeteries meant to curb the overcrowding of les catacombes. Its memories were now secrets left to decay on a shelf, when, really, the registre contained an entirely original 1804 map of the Parisian catacombs. Minerva takes no chances, ripping the page from the book and rolling it into her coat. It's not as if anyone has seen her. She sorts the book back into its place and confidently marches out of the neoclassical library. No one stops her, of course, for the only people who did notice the poised beauty only watched her out of admiration, not suspicion.
Which is a wrong assumption to have, n'est ce pas? One should always be wary of Minerva Paradiso.
Her AirBnB was a modernized neoclassical flat just under a kilometer away on rue de Patay, registered under the alias Rose S. Erred. Sheer curtains allow sunlight to flood the living room, giving Minerva a sense of peace. She kicks off her shoes and socks to feel the cool rosewood beneath her feet, slick enough to twirl comfortably on. She spins across the floor to the kitchen island and carefully plucks the rolled-up page from her coat, smoothing it over the Carrara marble counter. She could just hear Artemis' voice in her head now.
"You've desecrated an original, preserved piece of history. Blah blah blah blah blah."
Minerva rolls her eyes. Hypocrite.
She pushes any thoughts of Artemis from her mind and focuses on the task at hand. You're here for a reason, she tells herself. Don't forget it.
She nods at the sentiment. It's a good one.
Minerva carefully studies the map for a moment, detailing the original 300 km of les carrières de Paris, the mines of Paris. The northern side of the city had been filled with cement for centuries, but even 300 km was as much as any living human had documented discovering. In reality, the catacombs are even older than the 17th century, dating back thousands of years.
And the real reason Minerva was going into les carrières de Paris? She smirks to herself while a gentle hand brushes the map fondly. She'd received a tip about a fairy gang's hideout beneath the catacombs, and, put simply, she wants in. She found herself quite infatuated with the fairy world since her ex-boyfriend, Artemis Fowl the Second, had disappeared into the cosmos above. So, while Artemis fixated on the world above, Minerva began to fixate on the world below.
She knows enough Gnommish to communicate with any fairy she sees, and she's confident in her wisdom to guide her path safely. She is Athena's counterpart, after all.
Minerva slips out of her white coat and tosses it onto the chaise across the room. Rounded nails stroke her bare shoulders as she traces the ancient Gnommish tattoos she recently acquired. Her fingers run in spirals, each one a careful code of numbers that functions as each map she'd - ahem - obtained throughout her preparation for this night. The night that would change everything. The only map she hadn't tattooed was obviously the one in front of her. She has to take extra care to keep it safe. It is history to preserve, after all.
Minerva sighs. She rolls up the map and tucks it between her fingers, and continues her twirls into the bedroom. She slips the map into her waterproof bookbag, carefully stuffed amongst the several dozen of items she's already packed:
Infallible lights
Rebreather
Goggles
Rations - Beef pasta marinara, strawberry granola
Hard cheese
Water and reusable purifying water bottle
Couple hundred euro
Pristine 13th century map of the mines beneath Paris (Remember, she obtained these)
Local cataphile's personal map that she bargained for a couple hundred euro
Adaptive Learning map (Tech she designed herself)
A taser
A loaded derringer
3 smoke bombs
1 flash grenade
Heating socks and gloves
Sleeping bag
Small vial of oil
Matches
Lighter
Notebook and 2 pens
Change of lightweight clothes
Hand sanitizer
Disinfectant
Reflective contacts (For any mesmer. She is searching for fae, after all)
Reflective glasses with lenses that she crafted out of diamond
New cigarettes (Not for her)
Three gold coins (Also, not for her)
Portable charger
Whistle
Rope, long enough if she needs to belay
Huge rusted iron nail (Protection. Don't ask)
Holy water
Holy oil (Also, don't ask)
And her phone. Obviously.
Minerva zips the hefty bookbag and collapses onto the bed beside it. Soft light streaks across her room, the white walls and sheets beneath her like a cloud of peace. Sadly, her mind is not as serene as she could wish.
But it can't be helped. Minerva stares at the white panels on the ceiling. She tries to admire the woodwork, but her thoughts drift back to Artemis. A little over four months ago, she had ended her two-year relationship with the Irish tycoon.
She had to admit: She was still heartbroken. The stupid bastard had strung her along, all the while she'd actually fallen in love with him. Her! In love with him.
She snarls and tosses over to watch the cloudy sky through a break in the curtains. Never again would she permit such a foolish mistake. Not if she could help it. She was better than him, anyway.
Minerva frowns at a stray tear that rolls down her cheek and fervently wipes it away. She takes a peek at her phone. 17:32. She sighs and drops it to the fluffy comforter. Might as well sleep in comfort while she could, as it'd be the last time in a while. She worms out of her dress and into silken pajamas, the soft cool sheets transporting her to heaven.
Brrt! Brrt! Brrt!
"Hmph," Minerva groans, irritated that her little slice of heaven is demolished. Her hand flops around the dark bed, determined to snooze the device hidden in her sheets.
Brrt! Brrt! Brrt!
"Ferme-la!" Minerva whines, annoyed she has to fully awaken to find the buried phone.
Her fingers brush a glass screen and she snatches the device, relieved to shut the alarm off. She grumbles into her pillow for a second before sparing a glance at her phone again. 23:00.
Her heart bursts in her chest as she remembers why she's in Paris to begin with. Les catacombes!
Minerva hurries out of bed to indulge in a steamy shower, a nice warmth amongst the prickly-cold nighttime air that invades the flat. She goes over the assortment of plans in her head once more, careful to recall each detail in each particular plan and their outcomes.
Best case scenario: she finds the fairy hideout in one piece and coherent.
Worst case scenario: Arriving back to the surface empty-handed. To Minerva, failure was a fate worse than death.
She can't help but sneer at the latter case. No. She wouldn't fail here. She was too prepared for that.
Her biggest threat in the catacombs is a technological failure, which was fine until her resources ran out, to which then her greatest threat transitions into the dark, and then perhaps a few unruly humans, too. But she is armed, so the latter option didn't faze her much, either.
Minerva moves on quickly, no thanks to the upbeat music that streams from the Roku TV in her room. Her skincare is simple but efficient, and she smiles as she takes the time to appreciate the scent of her violet-sandalwood products. Small luxuries like these are important to appreciate when one is headed into the most diseased place below the earth.
She glances at her phone - 23:08.
Not terrible. She lathers her blonde coils with leave-in conditioner, the soaked hair easier to braid now. She works through each section skillfully, braiding her curls tightly against her head. The next step was her favourite ruby red wig, something she felt changed her appearance entirely. Anonymity was her safest option, after all, and dressing as someone she wasn't was a nice escape from herself and the demons in her mind. Tonight, she wasn't Minerva. Tonight, she was Minnie.
The lace-front wig goes on easily, as it should. Sleek, straight hairs tickle her thighs as she straightens it on her head, pulling the hairline apart with a fine pearl comb. She twirls the comb to pick and peel any baby hairs she can fake, reshaping and sculpting the wig to look real on her head. Another few minutes pass when she's satisfied with its appearance, and the painful amount of clips she locked onto her braids underneath.
She takes another glance at her phone: 23:33.
A tiny sliver of anxiety runs up her gut, urging her to hurry. She gnaws on her lip nervously as she rummages through her makeup bag. Her makeup was simple, but dark. Dark eyeliner and long lashes brightened her grey eyes in a sultry way, a nice compliment to her vampy lipstick and red hair. Her mirrored contact lenses slip into her eyes with a few blinks, an extra precaution against any tricky fairies, in addition to being able to see. She hurries into a black knitted shirt and leggings, worming her way into a thick, form-fitted wetsuit soon after. Her design was beyond impressive, and she was eager to test it before submitting it for a Nobel Peace Prize. She'd taken samples of Holly Short's uniform in the months prior and copied the nano-wafer tech. Heating, cooling, waterproof, lightweight, padded for impact, and stylish matte black? Parfaite.
Minerva flips her long locks over her shoulders and catches her gaze in the mirror on the far wall. She looks good.
Damn good, she smirks to herself.
She heaves her bag over her shoulders and spares a quick glance at her phone. 00:02
"Okay," she sighs with relief under her breath as she slips out the door. Her contact requested she meet him at 00:30, so at this rate, she could even grab a little snack on the way there.
Thick, protective boots nearly glide against the Parisian cobblestone as Minerva rushes along the sidewalk with two espressos and a few croissants, checking the GPS on her watch every few feet. She was close now. The air is so still in the chill night that she can hear her own heart thump in her chest.
Suddenly, the smell of cigarettes assaults her senses. She follows the scent and makes out a tall, lanky man in a grey beanie and puffer jacket, leaning lazily against a stone building.
"Coucou, Léo!" Minerva grins. She picks up her gait as she approaches the taller man, an equally fond grin on his own face when he spots her.
"Minnie!" Léo throws open his arms, taking her into his warm embrace. "How are you, friend? You look well."
"I feel okay," Minerva shrugs, desperate to shift the focus. "How are you? Also-" She lifts the goods in her hands. "I bring offerings."
"Ah, you're sweet," Léo hugs her briefly once more, taking a croissant and steaming cup. "For me?"
"Yes, for you," Minerva urges playfully. She joins him in snacking, the buttery flakes of bread melting in her mouth. "Mmm. Divine."
"French food is the best in the world," Léo shrugs, relishing his snack beside her.
Minerva takes a swift scan of the street and arches a brow at her friend. "What are we waiting for?"
"Another girl, In-"
"Sorry! I'm here! I'm here," a dark-haired young woman calls down the street, a bright smile and wave of her hand as she nears.
"There you are," Léo grins, throwing an open hand towards the woman when she joins their circle. "Ines, meet Minnie."
Minerva and Ines reach out their hands at the same time and a giggle escapes the women's lips as their fingers collide.
"Hi!" Ines chirps kindly, an awkward retreat of her hand. "Nice to meet you, Minnie." Her dark eyes widen at Minerva and Léo's goods, and a tiny whine escapes her throat. "Awh! I should've gotten that. That's way better than this." She frowns at the brown bag in her hand.
Minerva nods at it. "What is it?"
Ines glances back up, a bashful smile against embarrassed cheeks. "McDonald's. It's what my partner wanted."
Minerva can't help a laugh of disbelief. "McDonald's?"
Léo steps in. "Her boyfriend is a cataphile." He turns to Ines. "He probably asked you to bring him that, n'est ce pas?"
Ines joins their laughter. "Oui. He did. He says it's shit but it never goes bad, so."
"Ah, suuure," Minerva teases.
"Anyway!" Ines lets out a huff of air, icy mist fogs her breath. "Let's get going, yeah?"
Léo wastes no more time and walks past the ladies. He tosses his cigarette butt to the ground and sports a large grin over his shoulder. "Come along now, children."
"Pfft," Minerva snorts. "Children."
The women followed him briskly down the sidewalk until curiosity piques Minerva's interest. "How did you two meet?" she asks.
"In les catacombes," Ines replies cheerily. She elbows Léo playfully in the ribs."Léo is quite the regular cata."
"I see." Minerva teases Léo with a poke to his cheek. "Did you know that Léo is extremely intelligent?"
"Stop that," Léo rolls his eyes, waving her away.
"How did you two meet?" Ines inquires with a nod.
Minerva elbows Léo now, ribbing him with a shit-eating grin like Ines had. "Shall I tell her, Léo?"
Léo groans and picks up his gait. "Sure."
Minerva turns her grin to Ines. "I beat him in a chess competition."
"No!"
"Yes!"
"I had no idea Léo played chess?!"
"He plays well, too. He can't help that I'm better than him."
The women laugh as if they've been friends forever, and Ines wraps her arm around Minerva's shoulders. "I like this girl, Léo! She's spicy."
"Glad you two get along," Léo sighs. He suddenly stops above a manhole embedded into the sidewalk. He scans the dim street quickly before he bends down with a hook, working the tool into the manhole's center.
Minerva scans the street cautiously, a little surprised at his boldness. "Right here? Really?"
Ines chuckles. "Don't worry. It's faster."
Léo pulls the manhole cover off as soon as Ines finishes, his slick smile a testament to her point. "Like she said. Fast."
Minerva peeks over the hole in the sidewalk.
A black abyss stares back, the first four steps of a metal ladder visible into the darkness beyond.
"Cool."
Ines shakes her head and crawls in first. "Don't worry. It's not scary."
Minerva watches her disappear into the abyss. "I'm not scared."
Léo laughs, his turn to poke her cheek now. "It's okay to be scared."
"I'm not scared."
Léo rolls his eyes. "Si." He waves a hand over the manhole. "Well, then. After you."
Minerva's heart swells with excitement as she takes hold of the ladder, lowering herself into the world below.
Les Catacombes de Paris
00:40
When most people think of the catacombs, they think of a dark, dusty, scary network of underground tunnels. They probably imagine them isolated and haunted, yet this perception couldn't be farther from the truth.
The cataphiles had dedicated their lives to bettering the catacombs, even if that meant breaking into new rooms and having parties there. But living in the catacombs is a way of life for these people, and they care about the state of their home.
Minerva's careful to juggle the espresso and the ladder in her hands, but her boots hit the stone floor with a solid thud. The first thing she notices is the smell of the catacombs: not exactly like death, as one would imagine. More like chalky and musty, a little stuffy. The second thing that she notices is how silent it is. The limestone that made up the quarry was notoriously thick, trapping sound from room to room. Minerva smiles and looks up, proud to be able to see Léo through the night vision installation in her contacts. "You little rascal, you."
"What do you mean?" he huffs as he crawls down the ladder, also balancing his drink in his hand. "You sought me out for this trip, you little deviant." He hops to the floor seconds later, dust particles settle at his boots.
"Touché." Minerva drops her backpack to rummage for her headlamp. She sets her coffee down and straps the lamp to her forehead. A cool beam illuminates the path around her, and as the tech in her contacts adjusts to the new light, she catches a street marker on the stone wall.
Rue-De
Vaugirard
Côté-Du-Nord
Minerva grins. She knows exactly where they are. She packs back up and sips her espresso, her attention on Ines. "So, what now?"
Ines adjusts her headlamp and raises her brows between Léo and Minerva. "Shall we take her to Apéro? Pin is there, and it's a good starting point." She glances at Léo for confirmation. "What do you think?"
"Apéro it is."
They turn and stride through the right tunnel, Minerva quickly following along. She chitters under her breath, "Are we going to have cocktails?"
Ines laughs and glances back at Minerva. "It's our main party room. So, sort of? If you want."
"There's probably a bunch of people there right now," chimes in Léo. "It'd be nice to introduce you to everyone. You know, give you your official cata card."
"We'll baptise you!" Ines smiles, slowing down to clap Minerva on the shoulders. "It'll be fun. Don't worry."
The trio navigates the maze of stone tunnels and old pipes for a few minutes. It's quiet between them but not awkward as each person focuses on the uneven floor and rocky debris. Although Minerva modified her own boots to be firm and stiff on her ankles, she can't risk a sprain on them - it was clear the others felt the same. She was sure she'd grow more comfortable as her venture went on. She was, in truth, more scared of encountering stray humans than scared of the catacombs themselves. Limestone walls and bones can't hurt her.
Humans can.
"Through here."
Léo's voice breaks Minerva out of her thoughts and she glances up. She realizes she's staring into a graffiti-ridden, empty pipe tunnel, dimly lit by her single beam of light, and the Edison bulbs overhead. The tunnel stares back at her, beckoning her to continue forward.
"Hey?"
Minerva glances down, catching Léo's gaze. He's kneeled down by a small hole between a patch of wires in the wall.
She blinks. "Yeah?"
Léo's brows knit together. "You okay?"
Minerva groans. "Completely. I was just thinking."
Her friend sighs. "Minnie. It's okay to be a little nervous your first time. You're in a tomb of death."
"I'm not nervous, Léo," Minerva exasperates. She crosses her arms, her weight on one hip. "Can we continue?"
"We're waiting on you," Léo chuckles, waving a hand over the hole.
Ines peeks through on the opposite side, her beam of light like a beacon through the hole. "Salut!"
Minerva slings her bag off her shoulders and pushes it through the hole, and crawls through after it. "Tight fit," she comments.
Léo grins behind her. "That's what she said."
The girls groan in unison. "Isn't that what he'd say?" Ines laughs.
Léo freezes behind the girls and thinks on it. "...Shit."
"Idiot," Minerva sighs playfully. She reaches the end of the hole and leaps to the floor below, her bag swinging up and onto her back once more. She dusts off her jumpsuit as Léo pops out of the hole beside them and follows him down another dark tunnel.
"Almost there," says Léo as he rounds a corner.
The faintest beat of electronic music echoes from somewhere within the walls, its deep bass grows louder as they near. Were they having a party now? Minerva can't help but smile. "This is kind of fun."
"Well, yeah. Isn't that the whole point?" Ines asks as she races ahead.
They round another corner, but the tunnel before them is no longer lightless. Pink and green neon lights pulse from the ceiling above, the bass down the hall clear and reverberating from the stone walls. Minerva watches Léo and Ines turn off their headlamps and does the same. No point in wasting energy she could use later. Not that her tech would fail, anyway.
Léo brushes Minerva's arm, pointing her to the wall. "See?"
She turns to look. A plaque reads Apéro, a tiny martini glass etched next to it.
"Come."
And she does. Minerva continues forward and a giant, domed room opens up on her left. Red lights string from the huge stone columns that circle the room, large blocks of limestone surround a crackling campfire in the center. Cataphiles stuffed into every corner of the room, chatting, drinking, dancing the night away.
Minerva's smile grows larger. She can't help herself. She hadn't expected an exclusive nightclub within the catacombs, if she could really call it a 'nightclub.' Any previous anxiety she had before disappears, the smell of cigarettes and beer invigorates her. It's not her scene, per se, but it was different. And Minerva dares to be anything but conventional.
"Ines!"
The call for her acquaintance gets Minerva's attention. She watches the couple with keen eyes and absorbs any contextual data she can.
A lanky man in a sweaty shirt races over to Ines. His posture is kind but protective as he wraps his arms close around her, wide eyes locked onto her paper bag. "Is that McDo?"
Ines playfully shoves a wrapped burger into his chest. "What do you think?"
The tall man brightens and snatches the bag to triumphantly stab it into the air. "WE'VE GOT MCDO!"
"Ayyy!" the crowd erupts. Several cataphiles surround Ines' partner like hungry zombies that haven't eaten in days.
"Hey! Leave one for me!"
The group scatters across stone benches to dine on burgers and fries as the music lowers, giving everyone the space to hear each other. Minerva joins the social circle beside Léo, grateful for the warm espresso in her hand.
"Hey, you," says one guy across Minerva. He's maybe in his early thirties as he slicks long, dark hair over handsome features, his posture and build like that of a spelunker. The flames cast a rusty glow on his face when he nods at her. "Who are you? I haven't seen you before."
"Baptiste," Léo answers, throwing his open palm at Minerva. "Meet Minnie. Minnie, meet Baptiste."
"Minnie?" Baptiste winks. "Cute name."
"I'm La Pin!" Ines' boyfriend calls out across from them, his mouth full of food.
"Don't eat like a child," Ines chastises with a light smack.
"I'm not!"
Minerva tilts her head with an arch of her brow. "Lapin, like a bunny?Or La Pin, the pine tree?"
"I told you!" Ines bursts into laughter and ruffles up La Pin's shirt.
"Ferme-la!" La Pin huffs and swerves Ines' teases. He spares a glance at Minerva and answers, "La Pin, the pine tree! I am not a bunny. But just call me Pin. I prefer it."
Minerva nods with an amused smile. "Pin. Cool."
Ines taps Pin's shoulder. "Okay. Enough about you." She waves over the rest of the group as each member raises their hand. "Raff, Le Docteur, Petit Jean, Neptune, Étouffé-" Ines suddenly shrugs. "Eh. The rest of you can announce yourselves."
"Hey!"
"Rude."
"We're important too!"
"Bonsoir, everyone," Minerva nods, and hides a light smile behind her paper cup.
"So, Minnie…" Baptiste rises from his seat and takes one closer to her. "You're Léo's friend?"
"We're college friends," Léo chimes in. He nudges Minerva gently. "She's kind of a genius."
"I am not," Minerva lies smoothly, not fond of disclosing her intelligence to strangers. "He just says that because I'm good at chess."
"Nice." Baptiste leans forward on his knee. "So, first time in the catacombs?"
Ruby locks of hair brush Minerva's thighs when she tilts her head. "Hmmm, well, if you count the boring official tour, no." She flashes a cheeky grin at Baptiste. "But if you don't, then yes. This is my first time."
Baptiste grins back. "Nice. A catacombs virgin."
Léo rolls his eyes. "My God. I need a beer."
Baptiste nods at Ines. "Are you friends, too?"
Minerva meets eyes with Ines. Time freezes between them, as if both women exchange a telepathic connection. In a way, it may have been. But in Minerva's lifetime, she knew the secret language women shared with the simplest looks, the smallest microexpressions. Ines' brow furrows but her eyes and mouth are kind, and Minerva knows her answer.
"Of course," Ines answers, her stare into Minerva another confirmation her answer was what she needed. Minerva is grateful. She was the only other girl here in a group of men, after all. She needed any solidarity Ines could provide. "Of course we're friends. We met a while ago, right, Minnie?"
"Yes," Minerva nods, another smooth lie. "We met at that little macaron shop, remember?"
"I remember!" Ines winks at Baptiste. "Don't mess with my girl. She's protected."
Baptiste throws up his hands. "Woah! What are you talking about?"
Ines frowns between Baptiste and Pin. "Don't pretend you all don't mess with the newbies."
"Hey!" Pin protests. "Don't drag me into this!"
"You brought a group of Youtubers down here and then left them alone on the third level."
"We didn't leave them," Baptiste corrects. "We simply let them explore on their own for a few hours."
"I found them crying and panicking," Ines frowns.
"Is it our fault these Youtubers are stupid?" Pin cuts in, mouth still full of food. "They always come with obnoxious attitudes, expecting things. They don't even try to learn French."
"That's exactly it," Baptiste nods and sips his beer. "If they don't try, why should we?"
Ines gasps in horror. "They pay you!"
"Okay?" And they have the money to spend," Baptiste shrugs.
"Yeah. Making money yelling at their cameras," Pin drones. "'Like and subscribe, guys!'"
Someone passes Baptiste a spliff and he inhales. He blows out smoke as he turns to Minerva. "And you? What brings you to les catacombes?" He hands her the spliff with a smile. "The party?"
Minerva arches a brow at the cigarette. "What is it?"
Baptiste blinks. "You've never seen a spliff?"
"Of course I have," Minerva scowls. She cautiously takes it and glances at Baptiste again. "Just making sure it's not heroin."
"What the hell?" Baptiste reels back."What the hell do you think we do down here?"
Minerva shrugs with an innocent grin. "I don't know. I'm a catacombs virgin, remember?" She winks and takes a deep breath before inhaling the cigarette. Her lungs are filled with painful smoke and heaviness and she coughs up a storm.
"Nice," says Léo, taking the spliff from her to have for himself.
Minerva feels her rib prodded and turns to find Baptiste poking her. "What?"
"So?" Baptiste scans her. "What brought you to the catacombs? I don't see a camera."
"I'm not a Youtuber."
"You're not making a documentary?"
"It'd be a good idea," Minerva nods in agreement. She feels a little high now, as if the stone bench was a fluffy cloud. "But it'd detract from my focus."
"Are you an archaeologist?" asks Pin across from her. "We get a lot of them down here."
Minerva offers a light smile. "Something like that. I need to reach the caves."
Any laughter ceases. All chatter stops. Several pairs of eyes round on Minerva, everyone in the room glues to her.
Baptiste leans forward. "...What?"
Minerva obviously notices the room's disapproval. "The caves," she repeats clearly, curious of their reaction.
Léo shakes his head. "We don't go there."
"Why not?" inquires Minerva, a little unnerved by the sets of eyes on her. When no one answers, she turns to Ines to plead, "Come on. Tell me."
"The caves are…" Ines' olive skin goes white. "Well, they're even deeper than the mines. You don't really intend to go there, do you?"
Minerva gives a firm nod. "I do."
"What could be in the caves that you want?" Léo grumbles. He spins in his seat and glares at Minerva. "We're not taking you there."
"I didn't expect you to," Minerva glares back. "Nor have I asked you to."
"You can't go down to the caves," Baptiste interjects, his eyes worn and wrinkled as he stares at the floor. "You can't go down there."
"Why not?" Minerva rounds on him, but more gently. She doesn't know Baptiste like Léo. She doesn't want to push the wrong buttons. "I can handle myself."
"You can't."
"I can."
"No." Baptiste looks up, dark eyes like steel shred into her soul. "You can't."
The massive room is hushed except for the low rumble of music and crackling fire, and the longer Minerva glares at Baptiste, the more tense the air grows between them.
Eventually, Baptiste is the first to break the silence. He slaps his knees. "Come." He stands and looks down at Minerva, his once severe stare now a small, forgiving smile. He takes a few steps by her. "Let's do something."
Minerva wrinkles her nose in disgust, her blood hot in her veins. "Excuse me?"
Ines brightens and rises from her seat, following Baptiste. She waves Minerva over. "I think I know what he wants to show you." She extends her hand to the heated genius, her smile firm and trusting.
Minerva glances at Léo but he's already standing, a wide smile on his skinny face. "Where are we going?" she sighs and takes Ines' hand.
"Trust us." Ines locks their arms together and nudges Minerva. "We're friends, remember?"
Minerva takes a moment to reflect. Why was Baptiste so opposed to her journey into the caves? And why was everyone being so strange about it? Clearly, something had happened in the past, but if Minerva presses on, she risks alienating herself from the group prematurely. Another option drifts into her mind. Her gaze settles on Baptiste - of course, he's already looking at her.
Minerva presses her lips together, her heart races in her chest. She has no desire to date anytime soon, much less fool around with a stranger beneath the earth. But, she could gain information anda guide if she grows closer to Baptiste, and he's obviously attracted to her. She'll have to play this smart if she wants access to his assets. Not that being smart was ever an issue.
Minerva offers Baptiste a small nod, a tiny acknowledgement of his stare, but stays silent. She passes a colorful trash can on the way out of Apéro, grateful for the opportunity to throw her empty espresso away. It's then that she realizes, despite all the people and partying, the catacombs are immaculate. No beer cans, no cigarette butts. No trash. She glances up to observe the neon-lit walls. Even the graffiti and art installations don't interfere with the historical monuments, each and every plaque and street sign pristine.
"It's so clean down here," Minerva breathes in awe.
"Of course," Ines says. She taps Minerva's hand. "We care about the tomb of our ancestors. Over 6 million bodies are buried here. It's our job to preserve their home."
"That's honorable. Really." Minerva glances at Baptiste again, only this time she meets the back of his head. "Don't you crawl on their bones, though?"
It's as if Baptiste can feel her stare. He peers at her from over his shoulder, his crooked smile greets her. "It can't be helped." He lifts his arms to showcase the tunnel. "It is a tomb, after all."
The group of five continues down the maze of twinkling lights for a dozen more feet until they reach another massive room through a break in the wall. Minerva follows in last, unsure of what she'll see, but also unafraid.
Candle-lit, limestone stairs descend into a lower platform with an ominous red fountain. Clear water trickles into the glowing pool from above, little ripples on the surface left in its wake. Minerva is stunned. As the others spread out, she slowly descends the stairs, eyes glued to the stone fixture above the basin.
"What's above?" she asks in awe, not to anyone in particular.
"A cathedral," Baptiste answers, meeting her beside the fountain. "It's all clean water that drips from the identical fountain above."
"As above, so below. And the light?" she inquires. She leans over the basin edge to peek into the water. A bright light gleams at her under the surface. "Oh. An LED. Duh."
"Oui." Baptiste scans her quickly. "It's the same colour as your hair."
Minerva lifts her gaze, their height difference apparent now. "Did all of you build this? Or…?"
"Sort of," he answers. He crosses his arms and leans against the rockface. "We call this 'The Monk Room'. The fountain was built in 1705 by the monks at the cathedral. They made this fountain so the miners could have fresh water while working."
"Fascinating," Minerva smiles. She wasn't expecting a history tour. "So," she turns to nod at the stairs and tealights. "You did all of this, then?"
"The room was here, but we renovated the stairs and columns. And added candles, of course," he winks.
"Tell her why you brought her here," Ines hollers from across the room. Despite wrapped up in Pin's arms, she taunts Baptiste with a shit-eating grin and wriggling brows. "Flirt!"
"I'm getting to it!" Baptiste shoots back. He sighs and stands up straight to give Minerva his full attention. "Okay." He claps his hands. "So, we have a tradition here where we accept you as a cataphile, and we baptise you in the waters of the cathedral, and rebirth you under a new cata name. So, what's yours?"
Minerva can't help but grow an annoyed yet fond smile. 'Minnie' was her nickname, unless you count the nickname that her ex had bestowed her with: 'Min'. Minerva could've gagged. Definitely not that. She ponders it for a bit, until the obvious choice blossoms in her mind.
"Athena," she concludes with a tiny nod.
"Athena!" Baptiste declares, holding out his arms in a great show of drama to the group around them. "Are you ready to be welcomed into the world below? Are you ready to become one with the catacombs?"
"This sounds like a cult," Minerva giggles coyly behind a hand.
"It is not a cult," Baptiste assures, his air confident and suave.
Minerva has to give him props - at least he's handsome. She takes a step closer. "Oui. I'm ready." Baptiste places his hand at the base of her neck as she peers over the stone basin once more. Before he can submerge her though, she halts him with a firm hand. "Wait. Don't wet my hair."
Baptiste laughs. "No worries."
Minerva glares at him. "I'm serious."
"I mean it!"
"Hmph." She takes a big breath - now or nothing. Minerva allows him to slowly lower her face into the water for a second, the water refreshing and crisp against her skin.
When Minerva reels back with a genuine giggle, cheers erupt around the room. "Athena! Athena! Athena!"
"You are now reborn as Athena the Wise, cataphile of the catacombs!" Baptiste announces, even giving her a little bow.
Minerva can't help but grin as she slips out of her gloves to pat her face down. "Okay. I admit: this is pretty charming."
"Trust me yet?" Baptiste whispers above her shoulder.
"I don't even know your real name!" Minerva shakes her head in jest. "I met you about five minutes ago. You're literally a stranger."
"Then we will fix that, Athena." Baptiste pulls away, turning his gait back up the steps. He waves to the group. "Are we about ready to go?"
"What are we doing, exactly?" Minerva inquires as she tests her soaked lashes with a delicate finger. "What is the plan?"
"We'll explore the quarries." Baptiste turns to the others. "It's been a while, yeah?"
"For sure," Léo agrees. His expression suddenly shifts impishly as he jumps off a block. "But first: Apocalypse."
The room explodes in agreement, and Minerva can only assume this is another tradition before their expedition. She shrugs along with a nod, unbothered by the hindrance.
It's not before long that they're back in the electro Apéro, although in a different section of the room. The group, plus a few more, hover over a deep pit.
Baptiste claps his hands. "Okay! Everyone, inside."
"Come on," Ines pokes Minerva with a mischievous grin and drops down into the deep hole.
The rest of the group follows into the pit with jokes and taunts, including Baptiste. Minerva raises a single brow at the activity. "What are we doing now?"
Baptiste beckons her down with his hand. "Apocalypse! Come!"
"Is there any room?" Minerva relieves her shoulders of her backpack and drops to her knees. She can scale down the limestone blocks if she's careful, though any slip would cause her to fall onto the crowd. Minerva catches Baptiste's intent gaze. He probably wishes that I'd fall on him. Hmph. Men. "I don't want to fall on you."
Baptiste raises his palms to her. "I'll catch you," he asserts, confident in his strength.
Minerva narrows her eyes. "Of course you would."
"Baptiste!" Ines barks between the wedge of bodies. "Stop flirting and help the damn girl."
"I've got it," Minerva insists. She hops down from a block in the wall and lands smashed between Léo and Baptiste. She's unable to resist a smile on her face as she examines the taller bodies loom over her. "Okay. What the hell now?"
"Okay, okay, okay," Baptiste explains, his gravelly tones booming over the others. "So, Athena: Welcome to Battle Royale. This is a fight to the death to get out of the pit. Last one out has to carry the trash around the rest of the trip." He smirks. "Got it?"
Minerva nods. "Understood." She glances around the rock wall nervously. Just because she understands, doesn't mean she'll escape the pit. Her view is obscured, as she's easily the smallest person in the group. What if someone tramples her?
"On one, two-"
Minerva gulps and readies her fists, her legs strong beneath her.
"Three!"
She's shoved and pushed aside immediately. Her shoulder is slammed into the rock and the brutal force of testosterone oppresses her. "Putain!" Minerva curses in pain, deeply regretting joining this futile moshpit. So much for being Athena.
A ridge jabs Minerva's shoulder blade and she darts to observe it amongst the chaos. Her smokey, grey eyes widen like saucers. A tiny rock path splays out against the wall, a way to climb out! "Oui!" Minerva grips the block for dear life and heaves herself up, her padded wetsuit protective and lightweight as she climbs one stone after another. Only two blocks away now. She reaches up and pulls her weight, and fingers reaching for the last now, when her hand bumps another human's. Her eyes shoot up - Baptiste extends his help from above.
"Come on," he smiles kindly as he wiggles scarred fingers at her.
Scars? she ponders. From what?
Minerva bites her lip as her eyes meet his. Quite persistent, isn't he? Though, if she were honest, she was the same way. Nevertheless, she takes the advantage and locks hands with him, grateful for his aid as she's pulled free from the pit. Minerva pants through sore muscles and an embarrassed smile, "Merci."
"Of course. I can't leave the pretty girl behind."
She rolls her eyes. "You'd better take me to the caves with all the flirting you've committed."
"Not flirting," Baptiste shrugs casually. "Just stating the facts." His attention shifts back to the pit where his grin breaks into a fit of laughter. "Oh no! Not Étouffé!"
Minerva turns to check the commotion. A single man, Étouffé, is left alone at the bottom of the dusty pit, his middle fingers jab into air.
"Fuck you guys!" Étouffé plays along with a dramatic pout. "I don't wanna be the trash guy."
"Don't be a loser then!" Pin hollers through cupped hands. "Loser!"
"Loser! Loser!" the cataphiles cheer until they inevitably subside and scoop Étouffé out of the hole and back to freedom.
"Having fun?"
Ines' warm voice commands Minerva's attention. She whips around to her fellow female companion to nod. "Yes, actually. I'm honored that you've taken me in as one of your own."
"Why not?" Léo joins their conversation and wraps his arm around Minerva's shoulders. "We are friends, are we not?"
Minerva spares a quick peek at Baptiste, glad that he's not watching her for once. She can't help but itch for more information. Perhaps she was nosy, but the cataphiles' reluctance to answer her questions only fuels her deep intrigue more. The curse of a genius.
She whips back to Ines and Léo. "Why is Baptiste so against the caves? What happened?"
Their skin pales and their expressions crumble into the pain of bleak memories. After a few quiet moments, Ines finally answers. "It's not our place to talk about that. If you really want to know, you have to ask Baptiste."
"Just drop it," Léo advises quietly as the group gathers back together. Léo clears his throat and moves on from the subject to stand in the center of the room. "Alright!" He waits for frantic conversations to calm until all eyes are on him. "We're showing Athena the quarries tonight. Come along if you want. Go your own way and meet us there. Do your own thing. It's up to you. But me, Ines, and Athena are going to the mines. Who else?"
Baptiste raises a well-defined arm. "Me."
"Don't forget me!" Pin appears behind Ines and wraps his arms around her waist. "How dare you forget me," he whispers into her dark hair.
"You big baby," Ines groans. "As if I could escape your clingy ass for five seconds."
"Exactly."
"Let's get going then," Baptiste nods. He gathers his equipment, which inspires the others to follow suit. With their headlamps bright and beaming and their bags on their backs, Baptiste leads the cataphiles out of Apéro, and back into the claustrophobic darkness of les catacombes.
Minerva chews over her lip as her mind mulls over events at a thousand miles a second. It wasn't her friends' place to tell her what had happened with Baptiste, yet, if she was in any sort of danger, wasn't it their obligation to just warn her? Why were they so secretive? So cryptic? What were they so afraid of? Did Baptiste's scars have anything to do with it? Would they try to stop her?
Just what had happened in the caves below Paris?