Petra stops at the simple pair of doors adjacent to the Rue Edouard theater’s Will Call. This entrance is both unadorned and unremarkable. Most assume it leads to the seven-story manse or apartments above. It is in fact the home of Le Order of Grande Bleue Dawn, an abandoned library of esoteric armoire and artifacts.
“Mistress.” Ashra Kazemi says emerging catlike from the shadows.
“I don’t think I will get used to that.” Petra says with a start.
“Surely you jest, stealth is one of the qualities you always appreciated.” Ashra states as a matter of fact.
“You mean depended.” Petra praises the woman’s talent fully aware of its utility.
“Shall we retrieve the Hellenic Sorceress?” Ashra asks.
Two large double doors, simple to the layperson, creak and transform revealing themselves in ornate and intricately carved splendor. The sound of long sealed hinges creak as the heavy doors scrape over the stone threshold. As it clears negative pressure causes a backdraft spinning dust onto the street via the long-sealed entry.
“We no longer use this entrance.” Isobel humorlessly states from vestibule inside.
“Clearly. Such a shame to waste such splendor.” Petra says observing the display.
“Our days of conspicuous decoration are behind us. Only La Fleur Bleue dares be so bold. Theirs is a hall of mirrors whose patrons revel in illusion.” Isobel notes pulling the hood of her cloak over her head.
“Too bad, even the Artifactory needs to breathe.” Ashra states as if obvious.
“Shall we go find this ghoul? The thief, the witch and the sorceress plan their approach finally nodding in agreement.
Isobel steps onto the street from the long disused entrance. Without even a look over her shoulder she gestures a motion with her fingers and a turn of her wrist. The heavy carved door creaks and groans over the stone threshold, the snap of locks on a tomb can be heard as a final gasp of stale wind is forced from within. The trio walk shoulder to shoulder passing the marble statue of Pegasus and Bellerophon walking the center of the street making their way to the hotel beyond.
Le Grande Hotel
The women move through the suite with purpose. Theo is nowhere to be found but the faint feel of dark mystical energy taints the space. To the mystics it feels like decay masked by cold air, some would describe it as though a ghost has walked ahead of them.
“This is where the ghoul recovered from the attack but not its nest. This space has been cleansed from the dark work guiding his appetite.” Ashra states looking at the pressed suits and high gloss shined shoes in the closet behind the mirror.
“The apartment, tis where the trophies were found?” Petra says at the window overlooking Rue Edouard.
“Yes, teeth and tendril. Block rot in every corner of the nest. This place has too much traffic and has been kept clean of its presence.” Ashra states and observes.
“I will create a perimeter here; none will recall the location much less the resident until it returns. I will then find and question the doctor, though I doubt he has much understanding of what is occurring on his watch. There is little outside the closet that would even indicate a regular resident. What did the agenté say was the host’s history?”
“A disowned bourgeois gambler, socially exiled, recently mugged, oh and apparently shot in a duel.” Ashra states without looking up from her inspection.
“Sounds like one that is the architect of his own demise.” Isobel states invoking charms over the floors, doors and windows.
“A duel, did he say who with?” Petra asks, her interest piqued.
“Some Legionnaire.” Ashra states unaware of its relevance.
“Hmm, might be nothing though I am not one for coincidence.” Petra motions to the door.
“Shall we meet at Ashcrow’s office at dawn?” Isobel asks. Both agree saying their farewells.
French West Indies Company Office | Dawn
The trio sit in the deep tufted sofas in the opulent center of the French West Indies Company. Officially dissolved more than fifty years prior, the enterprise carries the identity but no longer the backing of the state. Officially the Offices of the Dumas holdings, the fortune of Frédérique Dumas, has been shrouded in mystery. Holdings throughout the remnants of France’s empire; the Caribbean, North Africa, the Levant and quiet investments, endowments and trusts. All managed from this nexus; Demian Ashcrow’s office.
Two whale oil lamps mix warm white light across the table. The space is shrouded in the transition of cool gray to amber light creeping in through the upper eastern facing windows. The handle turns on the simple office door. To most, the door would seem out of place, but in the world of Dumas and his conseiller Ashcrow, doors rarely represent or reveal what is contained beyond.
“Ladies, it is lovely to see you this morning.” Ashcrow greets the trio as he lays his always present folio on the grand desk.
“Tea?” He offers and all accept knowing that he enjoys the process and ritual. Ashcrow has used this ritual to create the space for his guests and associates to fill or bask in silence. The trio have known Ashcrow for decades. All have found that the pace of the ritual is both soothing and telling. Moments later, the sound of saucers and cups being placed onto a tray can be heard. Ashcrow could have a servant preparing the office for his day, but this is not his way. Most are already at his at his beck and call. The scent of the warm beverage is both inviting and comforting. Each enjoy the offered cup and wait for the first to break the silence.
“Did we have an interesting evening?” He asks retrieving a saucer and cup from the tray.
Ashra recounts the night and findings in the apartment with Agenté Truffaut. Isobel mentions the charms, an uneventful conversation and glamouring of Doctor Aliberté.
“Theo exited the building in haste. I believe even in our stealth we were detected. I used a charm to diffuse an escalating situation in the propriétaire immobilier’s flat.
“So, the agenté has been exposed to the path?” Isobel asks.
“Yes, while the rot and decay could be explained away, the teeth and living tendril alarmed him much more than the charm. In his assignment to L’Olympia he has operated at the path’s edge for a while. He likely found the ghoul’s previous host months ago. A stonemason named Francois Benecrecé. He has directed the Sûreté to be on the lookout for the daemon’s host.
“I feel Theo and his daemon will go to ground, likely leave the apartment and hotel for a period but will return.” Petra states sipping from her cup.
“We have an arrangement with the agenté. He is a man of integrity, but not such that he would not take advantage of an opportunity.” Ashcrow states blowing on the edge of his cup.
“These were in both the apartment and the suite at Le Grande.” Ashra places two green rental fee envelopes on the table between them.
Going to Ground