Baguette Rhymes with Dead || ONC 2024 | ✔

Chapter 11: La Santé 2023

He dropped the subject there, for La Santé's blue gate came into proper focus. We'd led our sizable group of ghosts, my improvised army, to our target. While more and more protesters filtered into the courtyard behind Omar and I, I glanced at the time on my phone. Five minutes past five.

Two and a half hours 'til the sun would rise.

From the corner of my eye, I could see that the three ghosts who'd snickered at me hadn't gone home yet. They must've raided a store at some point while I was gone, because their folding chairs and buckets of popcorn certainly hadn't been there earlier. But it wasn't them I was looking for; they could watch the show all they wanted and I wouldn't give a damn. The only person I wanted to see was Luc's wretched great-granduncle, who'd better listen carefully to what I had to say.

"Should I call for Richard? Let him know we're here to talk?" Omar asked, patting the megaphone he still held. "If his English is as bad as you said and you want to make sure he truly understands everything, I could be your translator. You do your say in your own language, I tell it to Richard in French."

"That will do." I glared at the door in front of me while Omar's amplified voice summoned Richard to us. It took the man a minute, but he did come shuffling to the doorway, without a doubt alarmed and surprised by the sudden commotion outside. Richard studied the pro-life protesters anxiously, terror in his eyes when they met mine. I glared daggers at him, employing a look I liked to think would've been able to kill if Luc's uncle hadn't been long dead.

"Hello again, Uncle Dick," I began. "I guess I'm not as alone in this city as you thought."

Omar translated dutifully, though I was sure Richard had understood this particular meaning in English just fine. The man cursed under his breath and I could see him counting heads, losing track of the amount of ghosts each time.

"I... We... demand you release Luc." I measured each word out of my mouth with attention, determined not to blunt any sharp edges. "If there's anything Parisians have a knack for, it's storming prisons. Remember Bastille 1789? Well, forget all about that. This is La Santé 2023."

Uncle Richard's breath hitched. "Tu es fou," he spat, and I would've figured out that meant you're crazy even without Omar there to translate it for me.

"No, not quite. But you would be crazy if you let this situation escalate to the point where we'd have to take decisive action. Either you give us Luc and we leave in peace, or you refuse and we occupy your prison. You can't stop all of us. And once we're inside, we could do all sorts of delightful things, like giving each prisoner who'd like it a chance to escape. They might want to try their luck if they're all in this together."

Though I knew we'd be able to pull it off, I didn't actually want to have to go so far. The chaos would be immense, but harsh circumstances in captivity aside, the prisoners in La Santé sat locked up for a reason. I didn't doubt some among them could pose a significant threat to the necropolis' peace and were capable of making innocents suffer. But Uncle Richard didn't need to know how I really felt about this plan. All we had to do was make him think it was something we were more than willing to attempt; that would be enough to pressure him and push him towards his breaking point.

"And what do you think Heloise would prefer?" I added just one last shove to send Richard over the edge. I'd never known I could sound as dangerous as I did in that moment. "You letting Luc walk for now or the logistical, bureaucratic nightmare a prison occupation would be? If you let Luc go, you tried your best and that's that. Take your chances with us and you may be done for."

It was possible Abelard and Heloise, if given the opportunity, would walk out of the necropolis in mine and Luc's bodies without looking back once at what they left behind, but I supposed they didn't truly care so little. I wagered Omar's words rang true: the events of one night wouldn't erase the centuries the medieval couple had called this city their home, contributing in their own ways to the citizens' welfare. As much as they might want to leave, I doubted they'd feel great about leaving the place a mess.