Paris Catacombs Monster Novels & Stories

I did the research. On my whole lower arm, these are my favorite monsters in fiction: Dracula, Frankenstein's Monster, the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and course, a zombie. If you can see more closely it's a picture of me—zombified. Aww, thanks so much, Zeke. It just sounds funny when you say 'sexy zombie.'

He sniffed the air. "It smells like death," Kael said. His lip curled. "Old death." "It is the Catacombs," I explained. "The ossuary holds the remains of six million people. It is the largest grave in the world. The Witches draw power from the bones." I reached through the bars. I found the hidden latch my mother had described in her journals. Click. The gate swung open with a screech. We descended a spiral stone staircase. It went down and down into the bowels of the earth. The air grew cold and damp. The sounds of the city above faded away until there was only the sound of our footsteps and the dripping of water.

“What the fuck was that?!” “Incubus,” Lila said matter of factly. “They ooze lust. It’s literally how they eat. You looked like you were about to climb him like a tree.” I slapped my hands over my face and groaned. “I feel violated.” She laughed and hugged me tight. “Welcome to Gravemire. Get used to it.” We split paths a moment later, promising to meet for dinner. I needed water. Or maybe a cold shower. Or possibly a priest.

But it was vague, more myth than history, and lacked the details I craved. “There must be more,” I muttered out loud, my frustration mounting, pushing myself from the floor “Something much more detailed. Anything.” My gaze wandered toward the staircase leading down to the catacombs. Zara had once mentioned it housed the oldest records, the kind too fragile or dangerous to be left in the open. Without hesitation, I made my way down the stairs. The door to the catacombs was massive and imposing, its intricate carvings glowing faintly in the dim light. I tried the handle, but it was locked.

Her laugh rang out, loud and almost manic in the quiet of the desert. “I love this!” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of joy and wicked glee. “You should see what’s going on in Tokyo right now. The authorities there are losing their minds. It’s all over the news! Giant monsters rampaging through the city! Cthulhu’s awakening, or so they think! And in New York, a whole skyscraper just... disappeared! Not really, of course, but the computers think so and Control is responding appropriately, or as appropriately as it can compromised with Neurovores.”

The city was reacting to it. Roman was beside me, watching with that same grim calm. “It’s starting,” he said quietly. Kael’s voice came over the comm crystal clipped to his jacket. “We’ve sealed the southern sector. The tunnels are unstable, but if you want to move, it’s now or never.” Roman turned to me. “We’re going below.” I nodded once. “Then let’s finish what started this.” The catacombs of Viremont were older than any pack record. They’d been carved when wolves still fought like gods and kings, not clans and families. The walls were slick with moss and age. Every step echoed like a memory.

He knew exactly how much energy it was taking her to simply remain upright. Between them, spread across the small mahogany pull-out table, were the decrypted files Marcus had managed to salvage from the sinking ruins of the White Tower. The leather-bound tablet showed a complex map of Paris, but it wasn't a map the tourists would ever see. It was a digital rendering of the city’s ancient quarry tunnels, the vast underground labyrinth that stretched beneath the left bank of the Seine, highlighted in a faint, ominous violet hue.

Paris, France. The Catacombs (Restricted Sector). Midnight. They didn't go to a hotel. They went straight underground. Paris, the City of Light, sits on top of a dark kingdom. Six million skeletons stacked in endless tunnels. The Empire of the Dead. Jack broke the padlock on a rusted service gate in the 14th Arrondissement. "I hate tunnels," Jack grunted, checking his flashlight. "Give me a forest any day. Trees don't watch you."

“We talked through a lot of different scenarios, but none of them were foolproof. So, I came up with this idea…” “I don’t care what it is. I’ll do it.” I just wanted to go home to my man. “There’re a lot of old tunnels and catacombs under the streets. And there’s one under my property.” “I thought Paris was the one with the catacombs.” “Well, if you knew your history like I do, you would know that’s not the case. What do you think?” “You want me to crawl underground…like a rat?” “You’re the one who said you’ll do whatever it is.”

I, of course, had a smokescreen in place to throw Pop off the scent; the catacombs. I chose this venue, of course, because Ma and the twins wouldn't be caught dead down there, Pop has a touch of claustrophobia, and Lancelot is a snob who wouldn't be caught dead walking through the Parisian underground surrounded by dead bodies, some cop he's going to be.