The Miss Education of Dr. Exeter (18 page)

Exeter shortened his steps. “Mia . . .”

Blinking back tears, she finished the words of the song. “To you I’m just . . . a child . . .” Inexplicably, the tears kept coming.

Exeter appeared stricken. He pulled her into the middle of the floor and turned in slow circles. “Mia, I care so very much . . .”

“No—don’t.” Choking on her words, she swept an errant teardrop away. She quickly searched the room for a distraction and found one. “Exeter—one of those strange characters is moving toward our table.”

His gaze narrowed. It was clear he didn’t wish to change the subject. Reluctantly, he stole a glance in the direction of the Nightshades and exhaled. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed her hand and wound a path through the dancing couples. Mia dipped and dodged to try to see what was going on across the dance floor.

America stood up from the table. “Phaeton?”

Both she and Exeter tracked her line of sight. Mia gasped. “Exeter—is it him?” Phaeton stood in the alcove. Before anyone could stop her, America ran toward a fading image.

“Go back, America!” Phaeton’s voice echoed from a faraway place.

E
XETER GRABBED HOLD OF
A
MERICA
only to have her break apart in his hands.
Whoosh.
Vanished into the Outremer. The darkness had just reached out and swallowed her up. He whirled around to find Mia and the Nightshades right behind him. “And the Moonstone?”

“Right here, mate.” Tim held the incarcerator under his arm.

Exeter exhaled a sigh of frustration or relief—maybe a bit of both. “I’m quite certain those two odd blokes dragged her across. We must follow them, in haste.” Exeter retrieved from his pocket the portable iDIP, which Tim had given him the day before in the train station. “How do I work this?”

“I wouldn’t, mate.” Tim grimaced.

“Why not?”

“Because we can’t be sure where she is. We need to get back to the hotel room, see if the bugs have located the hideout—pronto.”

Mia grasped Exeter’s arm. “Earlier this evening, I heard a voice. Ping heard it, as did America. I believe it was a warning from Phaeton, but there may have been a message, as well.”

Exeter turned to Ping. “What did he say?”

“If any of you tire of sin, you can always dash next door for a bit of Heaven.” Ping repeated the words verbatim.

Exeter stared. “What do you think it means?” A waiter dressed as Satan took obvious delight in shouting his order to the bartender. “Three seething bumpers of molten sin, with a dash of brimstone intensifier!”

Exeter tapped the waiter’s shoulder. “What sort of establishment adjoins l’Enfer?”

The devil snorted a laugh. “How can there be a hell without a heaven, monsieur?

As the Nightshades encircled the man, Exeter pressed the question. “Another café?”

The waiter retreated slightly. “
Oui,
Cabaret du Ciel. Everyone knows this, monsieur—”

Exeter placed Mia’s hand through the crook in his arm. “We break up into two groups,” he tossed the directive over his shoulder as he headed for the door. “Mia and I will go after America. They can’t be far ahead of us, not with a pregnant captive in hand.”

Exiting Hell’s Café, they were mysteriously plunged back into 1889 Paris. It appeared the veil between worlds was less stable in Montmartre. Mia wobbled a bit—disoriented by the sudden shift in time and space. “A bit of hysteria is all—breathe deeply—you’ll soon shake it off.” Exeter steadied her.

As they waited for their carriage, he unfolded a square of paper that contained a small amount of white powder. “Derived from an alkaloid obtained from the leaves of the coca plant, valuable as a local anaesthesiant, also used as a stimulant.” He took a pinch of the powder and held it under her nose. “Inhale, Mia—as if it were snuff.” He passed several packets around. “We are likely to cross over several times tonight—this will help keep our heads clear.”

Almost instantly, Mia appeared brighter—more alert. “You will likely experience a kind of visual and mental clarity.” She rubbed out a tickle in her nose. “Better?” he asked.

“Rather splendid, actually.”

“I’d like Jersey to come with Mia and me.” Exeter turned to Tim. “Mr. Noggy, the communication devices?” While Tim dug in his pocket for gadgets, they finalized plans. Tim, Ping, and Valentine would return to the hotel, mark the likeliest spots for Prospero’s underground chambers, and promptly relay the locations via the communicators. “Here we are.” Tim produced a handful of small devices. “Just like
Star Trek,
only better.” One never completely understood what the cherubic young inventor was talking about. Exeter was quite sure he spouted the esoteric vernacular for his own amusement.

Ping removed his spectacles. “You will likely descend into a sketchy bit of old quarry tunnel, which means you’ll run into a number of passages that lead nowhere. Some were dug as tests for the Métro. Paris will not have an underground train system for another ten years—so, if you happen to run across tracks or hear trains, you’ll know you’ve passed into the Outremer. Also, anarchists store weapons down there. They often plant explosives to protect their caches. Keep a lookout for trip wires.”

Tim handed Exeter a small, curved device. “Two buttons. One is the on/off switch, the other—press to speak, release to listen. Hook it over your ear—that’s it.”

Exeter pressed the on/off switch and practiced.

“The headset is also a homing device, so leave it turned on. Press when you want to talk and release to listen. These things can communicate across time and space, so they should be fairly reliable underground.” Tim swept back a riot of curly, unkempt hair to adjust his own communicator. “Stay in touch—every half hour or so, give us a call.”

Exeter helped Valentine into the waiting carriage and gestured for everyone to gather close. “Once we locate the hideout, we’ll designate a staging area. Ping will approach Prospero alone, lure him out of his den, so we can move in and collect America and Phaeton.” He turned and studied the enigmatic young man. “Hopefully, you have prepared a seduction. Will it be Ping or Jinn?”

The jinni offered quite a mesmerizing smile. “As you advised, I have a bit of both in mind.” Regardless of one’s sexual proclivities, one would have to be dead or blind not to see the allure of the androgynous creature. “Make your move with Prospero as soon as possible.” Exeter returned Ping’s grin. “Beguile him until we are well away from the hideout.” He removed a pistol from his pocket and spun the cartridge. A bullet in each chamber. Six emergency shots—just in case there was no aether to draw upon. Exeter crooked an elbow toward Mia. “Shall we look for a few devils in Heaven?”

Inside Cabaret du Ciel, they were greeted by a self-styled Saint Peter, who anointed the inebriated crowd from a basin of not so holy water. “Prepare to meet thy great Creator and don’t forget the garçons!”

Gauzy wings fluttered and brass halos bobbed as waiters flitted about the room in white robes. Exeter wove a path through a throng of intoxicated customers. “Heaven appears to be as popular as Hell with the boozy crowd—who would have thought?” Mia murmured.

He spotted a wraith at the end of the bar and nodded to Jersey. “In the alcove behind the bar.”

The Nightshade moved ahead. “I see him.”

Exeter tucked Mia behind him, protectively. A cloaked specter stood in the shadows in a coat of gossamer rags—tattered and war torn. The elusive apparition reminded him of the hooded Nightshades, who also wore cloaking devices.

“Prospero?” Mia’s whisper tickled his ear.

“Possibly.” Without taking his eyes off the creature, Exeter reached back for her hand. The wraithlike figure turned, then hesitated. Pinpoints of silver light, where eyes might be, looked back at them. The entity was actually beckoning them to follow. Cheeky phantom.

Skirting the bar, they found no sign of the sorcerer. Exeter examined the alcove for a possible trapdoor, nothing but a shallow niche with a painting of cherubs frolicking in the clouds. “Hold on.” Jersey felt around the edge of the gilded frame. “This side is hinged.” Exeter pressed the opposite side and the painting separated from the wall, revealing a hidden passageway.

Jersey climbed in first, then Mia. Exeter took up the rear guard. They crawled along in relative darkness, until Jersey fired up a bit of dagger light. “The passage grows larger up ahead.” Jersey lengthened the dagger into a sword and increased illumination. “Looks to be part of the old limestone quarry.” Jersey crawled out and helped Mia and Exeter down.

Pivoting in a circle, he counted two passages, traveling in opposite directions. Straight ahead, a set of stairs led one way—downward. Strange harmonics echoed softly up the stairs from the lower substrata. Jersey pointed his sword toward the echo and something fluttered in a dark turn of the stair. “Looks like we go below.”

They descended into more quarried caverns and narrow passages. Occasionally, they caught sight of a tattered wisp of fabric or heard a faint shuffle of footsteps. Reaching a blind turn, Jersey turned to them. “You two wait for a bit, then follow after me slowly—” Jersey halted his speech as a swirling column of dust came toward them. He motioned them all against the wall as the hissing rush of air passed them by. Jersey held up a finger and they waited in silence.

Exeter broke the stillness. “What was that?”

The Nightshade nodded into the blackness. “It’s still out there.” He’d learned to trust Jersey’s instincts—the half-breed demon had invisible feelers. How else had he known about the wraith attack on the train to Paris?

Jersey lowered his voice to a craggy whisper. “Every time we lose sight of this spook, we get some kind of clue—a sound, a footprint in the dust . . .”

Exeter nodded. They were being led. “If we have to run, I’d rather it not be into a trap.”

“As I was saying—I’ll scout ahead. Make your way forward, slowly. I’ll find you.” Jersey slipped around the corner and was quickly enveloped by darkness.

Mia stood with her back to the wall of the passage. Exeter pressed close. “How are the two of you?”

“She is present—no headaches—as yet.”

“Any urges?”

She didn’t have to answer. The hot, smoldering desire in her eyes said everything. She slanted her gaze away.

“Hold her close, but don’t let her shift—make her wait. Do you remember what I told you earlier?” He took a few steps forward, and stopped abruptly. Mia nearly ran into him. Instinctively, she flattened her hand against his back. Her touch so stimulated him, he moved her against the wall, and covered her with his body. “Answer, Mia. What did I tell you, earlier?”

“If we run into trouble, I’m to shift—get away and find help.”

“First make sure you are safe—then you may seek help.” He pulled her to him—so close he located her lips by a gasp of sweet breath. Bracing her face between the palms of his hands, his mouth sought hers with soft, hungry kisses. And she invited his tongue to delve deep and tangle with hers.

His cock rose with each soft, sultry caress. “I want to kiss your navel and move lower . . . to your lips.” Exeter broke off the affection before he lost all control. “Know this, Mia. I am coming apart inside.” His breath was harsh, labored. “I desire you much more than I can safely . . . control.” He exhaled, chastising himself silently. He had seen it coming—this forced intimacy had changed everything. Never in his life had he been this captivated by a woman. Mia’s courage and fortitude, the startling combination of physical beauty, brilliance of mind, and purity of heart. It was enough to drive him near mad with want for her.

Something hissed in the dark. Exeter jerked upright.

“What was that?” she whispered.

He rummaged around in an inside coat pocket for the battery-powered torch. “Let there be light,” he whispered and flipped the toggle switch. “And there was light.” He winked at her.

He shined the beam down one side of the corridor. No creatures. He turned in the opposite direction and shined the beam directly into the face of a hideous fiend he’d never seen before—one that grinned . . . and drooled.

Mia screamed, and they both backed away.

The strange being was human-like. Beady grey eyes, bulbous head, the limbs were skeleton thin. Was this a Skeezick? He remembered a description America had once shared. Gaping mouth filled with needle-like teeth and a good deal of drool.

“Hold on, Mia.” He picked up a large rock and tossed it. The figure broke up into shimmering particles and then reformed farther down the passageway. An image, one of those projections called holograms—likely used to frighten people away.

So . . . they were close.

Exeter pressed his communicator button and kept his voice low. “This is Exeter, I believe we may have stumbled upon Prospero’s den.” Footsteps echoed from behind—running footsteps. Exeter released the button and squinted down the corridor. A pale blue sword bobbed in the dark—it was Jersey and he was coming up fast. “Run!”

“Pick up your skirts, Mia.” They ran, half stumbling, toward a fork in the passage. Exeter caught Jersey’s eye. “How did you end up behind us?”

“The passage to the right doubles back—go left.” The Nightshade pointed with his sword into the dark. No time to ask who was behind them. He urged Mia forward. Rounding a blind corner they both sprinted down the corridor and nearly fell over.

Trip wire
.

A bolt of energy shot up his spine. Using potent lift, he tossed Mia far forward as the bomb went off. The shock wave blew them all farther down the passage buffeted by an eerie squall of dust and a blast of orange-red flame. Skidding along the floor, an avalanche of rock and dirt descended on him, forcing air from his lungs. His hearing cut out as debris of all sizes and types rained down in silence. For a moment, everything sparkled—dazzling stars, then a quick fade to a gray haze populated by ghostly figures. He collapsed under the weight of the rubble.

Mia stretched her neck and moved forward, cautiously. She uncurled a pink tongue and licked the dust off his face. He groaned, and she sprang back—her survival instincts raw and edgy. A quiver ran down the length of her body, lifting a cloud of dust off her coat. She sneezed.