Chapter 17

Chapter 17 Dan felt like one of the Catacomb skulls — hollowed out inside. He was determined not to show it. He was embarrassed enough that he'd cried on the train platform. But he kept reaching for his backpack and it wasn't there. He couldn't stop thinking about his parents' picture, whisked away and lost in the Métro tunnels. Maybe it had been ripped to shreds, or maybe his parents would be smiling in the darkness forever with no company but the rats. All he'd wanted to do was make them proud. Now he didn't know if his parents would ever forgive him. The rain was still coming down. Thunder boomed across the sky. Every few minutes a flash of lightning would illuminate the Paris skyline.

If Dan had been in a better mood, he would've wanted to explore Montmartre. It looked like a cool neighborhood. The whole area was one big hill, topped with a massive white-domed church that glowed in the rain. "That's where we're going?" Dan asked. Amy shook her head. "That's the Sacré-Coeur Basilica. The smaller church, St-Pierre, is just below it. You can't see it from here." "Two churches right together?" "Yeah." "Why wouldn't Franklin choose the big fancy one?" Amy shrugged. "Wasn't his style. He liked simple architecture. He would've thought it amusing to choose a small plain church in the shadow of a big fancy one." That didn't make much sense to Dan, but he was too wet and tired to argue. They hiked up the narrow streets, passing nightclubs with music blaring and neon signs that gleamed against the wet pavement. "I used to have a nightlife," Nellie sighed. As they climbed toward the top of the hill,

Amy told them what she knew about the neighborhood — how famous artists used to live here like Picasso, Vincent van Gogh, and Salvador Dali. Nellie pulled her raincoat tighter. "My mom told me another story—why it's called Montmartre, the Hill of the Martyr. She said Saint Denis was beheaded at the summit, right where we're going." That didn't sound like a very good omen. Dan wondered if they still kept the head in the church, and whether saints' heads really had haloes. A few minutes later they stood in a muddy graveyard, looking up at the dark silhouette of St- Pierre de Montmartre. The church was probably taller than it seemed, but with the white basilica towering on the hill behind it, St-Pierre looked short. It was made of gray stone slabs. A single square bell tower rose from the left-hand side, topped with a lightning rod and cross. Dan thought the building looked angry and resentful. If churches could frown, this one would. "How do we know where to look?" he asked. "Inside the sanctuary?" Nellie asked hopefully.

"At least we'd be out of the rain." BOOM! Thunder rolled across the rooftops. Lightning flashed, and in that second, Dan saw something. "There," he said. "That tombstone." "Dan," Amy complained, "this is no time for your collection!" But he ran to a marble marker. If he hadn't been a tombstone admirer, he never would've noticed it. There were no dates. No name. At first, Dan thought the figure carved at the top was an angel, but the shape was wrong. It was weathered and worn, but he could still tell— "Entwined serpents," Amy gasped. "The Lucian crest. And there—" She knelt and traced an arrow carved at the base of the marker—an arrow pointing down into the earth. Amy and Dan looked at each other and nodded. "Oh, you're kidding," Nellie said. "You're not really going to—" "Dig up a grave," Dan said.

They found a toolshed around the side of the church. They borrowed a shovel, a couple of gardening spades, and a flashlight that actually worked. Soon they were back at the graveside, digging in the mud. The rain made it hard going. In no time, they were completely filthy. It reminded Dan of the good old days when Amy and he were young. They used to have mud battles and their au pair would shriek in horror and make them spend the evening in a bubble bath, getting cleaned up. Dan didn't think Nellie was going to make them a bubble bath tonight. Slowly, the hole got deeper. It kept filling with water, but finally Dan's shovel struck stone. He scraped away the mud and found a marble slab about four feet long by three feet wide. "Too small for a coffin," Amy said. "Unless it's for a kid," Dan said. "I could fit in there." "Don't say that!" Dan wiped the mud off his face, which just made it muddier. "Only one way to find out." He worked the spade under the edge of the slab until

he found a crack and then started to pry. "I need help." Amy joined him. Nellie got the shovel into the crack and together they heaved the slab aside. Beneath was a square hole, but it wasn't a grave. Stairs led down, into the darkness of the Catacombs. As soon as they reached the bottom, Dan swept the flashlight around the room. It was a square chamber hewn from limestone, with a tunnel exiting to the left and the right. There were no stacks of bones, but the walls were painted with faded murals. In the center was an ornately carved stone pedestal about three feet high. On the top sat a porcelain vase. "Don't touch it!" Amy said. "It might be booby-trapped." Dan edged closer to the vase. "It's decorated with little Franklins." He could make out Ben holding a kite in a storm, Ben in a fur cap, Ben waving a cane over the ocean like he was doing some kind of magic trick.