(Collaborating with HiddenHaven)
Finn sank deeper into the not-so-comfortable train seat. 'Better than camping under a bridge.' He thought and yawned, rubbing his nose. Finn never considered himself to be a man of dreams and ambitions. All he wanted was quick cash here and there, then he'll be on his merry way of backpacking. A casual park ranger assistant with a contract of six months seemed like a dream job. He got paid while camping, hiking, fishing, swimming, and doing all the cool stuff you do in a national park. Well, curiosity (and his lazy/nosy attitude) just got the better of him.
No job, no income, no cozy ranger's cabin to put his feet up. Finn was forced on his way. Luckily enough, as an individual who talks fluent grape, he is well-informed on the grapevine. He remembered, yonks ago, reading a post on a dodgy online paranormal forum, about some random folk got a king's ransom from a French night club, simply because the owner liked his drunk-talk of seeing the Mothman while doing al fresco with his boss's wife. Finn didn't know which part picked the owner's interest, the Mothman or the al fresco "intimacy" part. The whole thing sounded like a death punch rather than a free lunch. But judgment had never been his forte. Finn's on the road anyway, which direction doesn't matter. Oh actually, it does matter, the direction better points him to a soft bed and a good meal. Finn reckoned even if he can't sell the photo, he might be able to get a job in the nightclub. Or worst case scenario, he'd just cross the English channel and go home.
Finn zoomed in then out on his iPhone screen. The post and forum had sunken into the ocean of the internet. But with the help of a bit of luck and the way-back machine, the former park ranger was able to screenshot another post related to the original one. Surprisingly, Finn didn't spend the entirety of the twenty-hour bus and train ride from the Czech Republic to Paris in sleep, he actually did his research. Finn found a quite mixed opinions regarding this French nightclub, la Lune et Sixpence by name. Some claimed it to be the real deal, some scoffed it as a hoax. But among the many posts that he fished out of the data trench, the former park ranger did find something interesting, an alleged instruction on how to find the nightclub.
'Venture the lane between the lantern and the Moor, take thirteen steps towards the moon.
When you see one shadow becomes two, to the right then left you roam.
Speak to the guarding stone, a name will let you through.'
Oh great, a riddle, how mysterious! Can't it be an address he can just type in the Google map? Finn slouched down on one of the many benches of Gare de l'Est, and his phone rang. The name on WhatsApp raised a big question mark followed by a wide grin.
"Yo, la Taupe, you dirty old mole, long time no see!" Finn greeted his friend and fellow backpacker, known as la Taupe in the circle, Raoul in real life.
"Ey, ey, Jambe de Poisson (fish leg, because Finn sounds like fin), it's good to hear your voice!" La Taupe responded with equal enthusiasm. "Listen, gros, not being rude but I wasn't calling you. I was gonna call my client, but a huge cat ran me over so my finger slipped."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Still running that minging sh*tty spooky catacombs tour?"
"Boucle-la! Mine is the best in Paris! No, the entire France! Get your lazy ass here and see for yourself."
"Nay mate, I had enough of the ghosty sh*t." The mentioning of the paranormal sent chill down the former park ranger’s spine. "I need alcohol." He groaned into the speaker, half joking but won't say no if one is offered.
"I'd buy you one if you're in Paris." Raoul laughed, and he meant it.
"You know what? I'm in Paris."
"Holy Moly, cloned sheep Dolly! Let's hang out! My tour ends at nine. Meet me at the Tunnel!"
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The Tunnel was the name given to a sewer outlet that may or may not be in use. Nothing distinguished it from the many other sewage channels except for a particular graffiti of a Cerberus, which marked it as a gateway to the underworld, aka the Empire of the Dead, aka the Catacombs of Paris.
Finn was having a third smoke when a loud bang hit the other side of the concrete tube he was leaning against. The young man nearly jumped out of his skin, well maybe not his skin, but he did break his own broad jump record. Finn turned his shaky gaze toward the gaping darkness, which was eerily reminiscent of the maw of the underworld's guarding dog.
"Da f**k?" Finn took two cautious steps towards the Tunnel, mumbling a curse. The thick darkness was impenetrable to the naked eye. Shining a flashlight through might be a reasonable thing to do but a stupid idea. The backpacker wasn't particularly keen on finding out what was going on, so he decided to move to a better-lit spot, namely under the light pole. As his back was turned towards the Tunnel entrance, footsteps stormed out of the darkness.
Without thinking, Finn chose flight over fight. The footsteps grew louder and louder, the pursuer of darkness drew closer and closer. Finn felt something on his back, a human hand, rather than the claws of some monster from the underworld, along with the laughing and panting of a man.
"Haha, Jambe de Poisson, got you!"
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In no time they were seated comfortably in a local pub. La Taupe introduced Finn to his partners and co-workers, two men and a woman. Champignon, E.T. and Kiki. After a few rounds of drinks and smokes, they were calling each other brothers and sister.
"What brings you to Paris, pote?" La Taupe downed his shot in one gulp and lit another cigarette.
"I was bored. Park ranger was fun for two months, but all you saw was trees and animal carcasses." Finn followed suit, puffing a ring of smoke then gulped down half a bottle of beer.
"You got fired." La Taupe, knowing all too well of his friend, dealt out the blow of truth.
"No, I didn’t!" Finn turned red instantly, shrieking a defence for himself.
"Yes, you did, pote." Unlike the young Brit, the French tour guide was as cool as a cucumber.
"B*llocks! Yes, I did." Lacking the energy nor the interest to argue, Finn smacked down his bottle, salty as a fish jerky.
"So what’s the plan? Wait, lemme guess. You wanna work for me?" La Taupe stretched an ear-to-ear sneer.
"Scr*w that, you minging mole! I’d rather go back home and cry to mama!"
The group burst into thundering laughter. Champignon, the man with a bowl cut, even mimicked a baby's cry.
"You don't know what you miss." La Taupe dismissed it with a shrug. "But seriously, what's your plan?"
"I'm looking for la Lune et Sixpence."
Finn was waiting for another round of boos and laughs, but he was met with the group’s uncanny silence.
"Finn, that...that place isn't real." E.T. being the soberest of them all, stared the former park ranger dead in the eyes. His voice was barely louder than a whisper. Finn was made very uncomfortable by those huge blue pupils, they were simply disproportionate on top of the man's skinny frame.
"Kvintus1807 buys you a drink..." All of a sudden, the otherwise quiet woman, Kiki, squeezed a murmur out of her throat. Her body swayed from side to side. She seemed ‘out there’.
"Kiki!" La Taupe growled, cautioning his lady friend.
"Kvintus1807 buys you a drink, ‘tis sweet as honey yet of hexes reeks. A sip or a gulp a deal is sealed. A word or a thousand a piece of soul claimed."
"She's drunk, don't listen to her!" La Taupe grabbed Kiki by the shoulders and shook her out of the trance. The woman blinked, scanned her companions then re-assumed her taciturn self. Twitching an apologetic smile, the leader of the group swigged his drink in two gulps. "D*mn, we have had too much to drink! And I'm hungry. Come, let's find something to eat."
La Taupe led the group to his favourite kebab shop, ran by a nice family of middle-east origin. They ordered their food. As Finn bit down the spicy wrap, he carelessly glanced to his left. It was a vacant shop, almost deserted, left to the mercy of drunks and troublemakers. The big hole in the front window did not tell a kind story. Finn being his nosy self, peeped through the broken glass and saw a mess. Plastic wraps, torn curtains, and tilted shelves. A counter desk, however, stood neatly against the surrounding chaos. And upon its dusty surface, was an old rusty lantern.
'Venture between the lantern and the Moor.'
"Hey, Raoul, I…I'm gonna take a leak…"
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There was no light in the alleyway, but Finn could see. 'Take thirteen steps towards the moon?' the young man recited. Thirteen steps? From where? The entrance of the alley? Finn looked over his shoulder, and he saw nothing. The spirit of ethanol had clouded his mind, instead of fear, he felt annoyance. Towards the moon? Can he even see the moon tonight? As if answering his call, a ray of silver descended right in front of the tips of his shoes. Finn looked up and was mesmerised by the enormous argent wheel with a misty ribbon across its diameter. So white, so pure, so...unearthly. No turning back then, Finn thought and stepped forward. One, two, three…thirteen! Now what?
'When you see one shadow becomes two.' With the moon, the only light source, shining down upon him, Finn had expected to see just one shadow behind him. But in this reality, two lengthy black shapes were being cast on the grey stone pavement in front of him. The young man had to attribute what he saw to alcohol.
'To the right and left you roam.' Finn did. His careless steps brought him face to face with the three heads of the Cerberus, the stone imitation of one to be specific, mounted in the centre of a plain metal door. If Finn was to be completely honest, the door reminded him of one of the posters of the 1992 movie, Bram Stock's Dracula. Nothing too sinister, just odd. 'So this is it.' The former park ranger thought, grabbing hold of the ring in the middle mouth and giving the door three solid knocks.
"Who goes there?" A deep voice rumbled through the jagged teeth, Finn reckoned it must be some kind of fancy intercom.
"Err, Kvintus1807 buys me a drink?" He spoke into the stone maw. ‘A name will let you through.’
There was a long pause, followed by a metal click. "Come to the bar." was his final instruction.
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Finn thought he might one, travelled back in time. Two, landed in the middle of a super immersive DnD LARP. Three, burst into the shooting site of 'Game of Thrones'.
The dark stone-paved floor shimmered in the artificial flickering of LED candles and torches. Iron chandeliers shaped like Melkor's crown dangled from the ceiling dome, along with many chains, which's purpose Finn can't really pinpoint. Hardwood tables were arranged along the walls. Chairs and lounge sofas were lined with luxury red velvet. Curtains of matching material created an illusion of privacy for each sitting area. In the centre, there was a three-step descent leading to the dancing floor. Towards the left, a band was blasting waves of aggressively loud heavy metal music. The air was mellow with the smell of alcohol, smoke, and high spirit, but surprisingly Finn was alert and wide awake. He felt watched, the hair on the back of his neck all stood up. The long-forgotten animal instinct warned the human of the predators in the dark. Finn scanned his surroundings. Perhaps it was the eerie red lighting? Or the gothic touch of the interior design? Or the strange eyeshine flickering in the shadow?
Finn decided to move on. He squeezed past the merrymakers, the many warm or cold flesh swayed to the music, and made his way to the bar counter beyond the dance floor. The attractive bartender looked up to acknowledge the customer, brushing a wisp of red lock away from her pale face. Finn found his eyes glued to the bartender's deep V neckline.
"Good evening, handsome? What can I get you?" The red-headed woman blew a smile right into the human's heart. Something cold and sharp glittered behind her ruby lips.
"Hello there, gorgeous." The young man's just-above-zero reason melted into nothing. His brain was now a blob of jelly, unable to process the many red flags. "Why don’t you surprise me? Something as charming as your smile?"
"Oh, the flirty type, aren't you?" Measuring her customer, the bartender turned around to prepare a drink. Ice cubes were added to the shaker, then liquor, then a thick current-red syrup, then more liquor. With a flick of her wrist, the shaker was in mid-air.
"There you are." In the blink of an eye, a glass was laid in front of Finn. The garnet satin rustled as the bartender leaned on the marble counter, her manicured red nails playing out a rhythm.
"What is it?" Finn took a sip, but couldn’t grasp the metallic sweet taste.
"Kvintus1807 buys you a drink." The woman leaned even closer, a crimson flash in her eyes brought a mischievous wink to the level of intimidating. "And you pay with a story. Now, what do you have for us?"
