by Marie Laval
‘You’re mine. I don’t care what my bastard of a cousin says. You’re all mine. At last.’
She almost screamed when she felt his hot, rigid flesh against her bare thigh. She had to do it. Now! Summoning all her strength, she lifted the crystal and bashed it at the side of his head.
He grunted with pain and looked, stunned, at her. She gave him another, stronger, blow on the forehead and he went limp on top of her.
She wriggled free from under him but he was heavy and it took several attempts before she could push him aside. She had to get away at once. He may not be unconscious for long. It seemed to take forever for her clumsy fingers to put her clothing back in order. At last she sat up and pushed herself up against the wall. Her legs gave in under her and she fell down again. Breathing hard, she tried again and stood, taking a few wobbly steps.
After a last look at Frédéric's unconscious form, she started down the tunnel Stéphane had disappeared into earlier. Faster. Faster. She urged herself as she stumbled in the darkness, holding onto the slimy stone wall for support. Her shoes sank into the muddy ground. Water dripped from the walls and the ceiling. The patter of raindrops echoed inside the tunnel, louder and louder.
She frowned. How odd. It was raining inside.
No, the tunnel was flooding! A wave of water, mud, and debris rushed towards her with a loud, gushing sound that echoed in the tunnel. She'd never be able to get out that way. She had to turn back and try the other tunnel.
Frédéric was still unconscious in the cave, but for how long? She forced her wobbly legs to move faster.
The second passageway was still dry. She counted about fifty steps before she saw an orange light glowing in front of her, and another thirty before she entered the next chamber. Her throat tightened. This was where she’d been before.
The first thing she saw was the statue dominating the shrine. Like the one she had found in the garden at Bellefontaine, it had a crown of oak leaves and slithering snakes. A thin black ribbon coiled around the pale grey column of her throat. In the flickering candlelight it looked like a slithering snake, and it reminded her something – or someone – she'd seen before.
She looked at the carving on the pedestal – Ρσκλίσίā. Bona Dea's Greek name that Laurent had translated into ‘The Good Listener’ or ‘The Wish Granter’.
All around the goddess, fluorite crystals glittered and four salinum engraved with lions and snakes were filled with white powder – salt, probably. This must be where Anne Loubier had taken Fabien’s salinum from. Was she part of the cult too, like Frédéric? And just how many more people she knew were involved?
Shadows shrouded the far end of the chamber where niches dug into the rock appeared to display small, round objects. More ancient artefacts... Amy stepped forward and just as quickly stumbled back. These were no artefacts but skulls – perfectly preserved skulls with their empty sockets staring straight at her.
She bumped into a stone table standing in the middle of a triangle painted on the ground. It was the table she had been lying on during the ceremony. She now saw that it was hollow at the centre and splattered with reddish brown stains – the colour of dried blood.
Terror made her heart thump against her ribs. So this was what awaited Stéphane! He was the young man the cult followers wanted for their ceremony. They meant to kill him, and rape her. Only, now she knew Frédéric was one of them, he might want to dispose of her instead of letting her go. There was only one other exit from the chamber. She had to risk it, and hope she wouldn’t meet anyone coming the other way.
‘There you are, bitch!’ It was Frédéric’s voice behind her.
She willed herself to run into the narrow, winding passage. She didn't get very far. As she turned the first corner, she bumped into a masked and robed man. Behind him were others.
The man grabbed her.
‘Let me go!’ She tried to kick him.
Another stepped forward and slapped her, knocked the breath out her and she stopped moving.
‘Good. You got her.’
Frédéric said as he caught up with her.
‘How on earth did she escape? And where is the boy?’ the man asked.
‘He got away.’
Frédéric rubbed the bloodied bruises on his forehead and looked at Amy with undisguised hatred.
‘You will pay for that, just you wait and see.’
A woman stepped forward. Like the others, she wore a mask, but the strands of red hair curling under her white hood, and the black ribbon snaking around her neck gave her away. Serena Chevalier! She’d worn the same necklace at the cocktail party, and her adoptive mother Rosalie Bruni had worn it in the charcoal sketch in Philippe Coste’s portfolio. It was almost identical to the statue’s.
‘Then it’s hopeless,’ Serena said. 'It's the second boy we’ve lost. Without the sacrifice, I probably won’t be able to read the oracle.’
Another woman spoke.
‘You promised we would perform the ceremony tonight. You promised to tell us who would be the next priestess. Never mind the boy. Can we not use her?’
She pointed to Amy.
They were going to kill her! Frantic, Amy tried to wriggle free of the man’s grasp.
‘Reading the oracles requires a young man’s blood,’ Serena Chevalier retorted. ‘You should know that by now. I suppose I'll have to try without it.’
Amy struggled again.
‘Stay still or else,’ the man growled, tightening his grip.
Or else what? It didn’t matter any more. She had nothing to lose. She kicked the man, elbowed him in the stomach, and tried to bite his hand. It wasn’t enough.
‘I said to keep still.’
He gave her a hard shake, lifted her in his arms, and carried her into the temple where he slammed her down onto the table. Her head bumped against the stone. Pain flashed through her skull.
‘She needs more draught,’ someone said.
As he bent down to administer the sedative, Amy recognised the icy blue eyes of Marc Chevalier staring at her through the mask. She clamped her teeth together, pressed her lips firmly shut, but once again he held her nose and when she had to breathe, he poured some drug into her mouth.
Her last thought before she lost consciousness was for Stéphane. Thank heavens he’d got away. At least he was safe.
The dull beating of drums echoed the pounding of her heart. Ghostly shadows danced on the walls. A woman’s voice chanted words she didn’t recognise.
‘Sum periculi … sum periculi. I beseech you, earth mother, Gallia, Merciful Listener. Fly to me, touch me with your wand. Inspire me with the true will of the gods and tell me who will be your next priestess. I have no blood to offer you tonight but I pray you can let me hear your voice.’
Serena Chevalier placed her hands over her head and followed the shape of her body. Amy realised her clothes had been removed and she now wore a white muslin gown that barely covered her. She tried to move away from the woman’s touch. Her body didn’t respond.
‘I beseech you, Goddess.’
Serena threw her head backwards and stood still as the dull, hypnotic beat of drums echoed into the temple for what felt like an eternity.
‘The Goddess spoke to me and chose the next priestess,’ Serena spoke at last.
She pointed to Amy.
‘She shall be my successor.’
‘No!’ A voice shouted in protest. A voice Amy recognised. Anne Loubier’s.
‘You promised it would be me.’
Serena shook her head.
‘She is the chosen one. We tried to scare her, hurt her, make her go away so that Bellefontaine would be empty once again and we could pursue our activities without fear of being seen. We were wrong. I should have understood it before. She is the new lady of Bellefontaine. She will keep our Goddess alive, and our treasure safe. She is our future.’
‘You’re ill, Serena, you’re not making sense,’ Anne Loubier protested. ‘You promised me the key to the treas
ure.’
Serena placed a crystal on Amy’s stomach. ‘She is with child. A daughter. She will be the first of a new bloodline of Bellefontaine’s priestesses.’
She took a deep breath and raised her arms in the air.
‘And so I have carried out the Sacred Act. The Goddess has spoken and has now withdrawn from her temple.’
She removed her mask and slumped forward, as if all her strength suddenly left her. Anne walked over to her, grabbed her shoulders and gave her a violent shake.
‘Listen, you! For years you told me that I would be your successor. My daughter and I were the future, you said. You can’t change your mind now and pick her. She isn’t one of us.’
‘Take your hands off her,’ Marc Chevalier warned. ‘Serena is right. Our ceremony is over.’
Serena straightened up and faced Anne Loubier.
‘You must obey. I am not giving up my duties just yet, but when I do, Amy Carter will be our next priestess.’
‘I don’t understand. What are we doing now?’ a man said from the back of the chamber. ‘It’s far too early to finish. Are we not having our usual session?’
Serena shook her head again.
‘Not tonight. Everybody must leave now. I will contact you in the usual way when it’s time for us to gather again.’
The music stopped. People left the cave one by one. Soon only Anne and Frédéric remained with the Chevaliers.
Anne removed her mask and threw it on the ground.
‘I won’t give up, Serena. You always said I would have the key to the treasure.’
Serena let out a bitter laugh.
‘I’m starting to think that’s all you were ever interested in.’
‘So what if it was?’ Anne snapped. ‘Oh don’t get me wrong. I did enjoy your ceremonies – the drama of it, not to mention the drugs and the sex. I wasn’t so keen on that blood ritual you performed after Rosalie died and you became our priestess – far too gruesome for me. In fact, I’m rather glad those boys escaped and we were spared any more of that, and I know I’m not the only one.’
She jabbed her finger into Serena’s chest.
‘Why do you think people come to our little gatherings? Well, I’ll you why. It’s not for the love of your earth mother or to listen to you rant in Latin or Greek or whatever language you use to address your goddess. What we’re all after is the thrill of unusual sexual practices with the added excitement of performance-enhancing drugs.
‘I’ve been loyal to you for years. You owe me the key to the treasure.’
The two women faced each other, the tension between them palpable.
‘I always knew you stole precious objects from our temple from time to time. I didn’t say anything because I thought you were sincere in your devotion to our goddess. Now I can see you were never worthy of the treasure. My decision is final.’
‘We’ll see about that! I need the treasure. I need money!’ Anne stormed out.
Frédéric had remained silent all this time. Now he put his hand on Amy’s shoulder.
‘What are we doing with her? You said I could have her after the ceremony.’
‘That was before the goddess spoke to me. We need her alive and well. I told you, she is our next priestess. You can’t touch her. I forbid it!’
Frédéric tightened his grip.
‘I’ll do what I bloody well like. You can’t stop me, you’re half dead already.’
His voice was full of spite.
‘How dare you speak to my wife that way?’ Marc Chevalier cut in.
He too had now removed his mask.
‘You’ve done enough damage already. You let the two boys escape. And yesterday you tried to kill Fabien on the cliff. That was bloody stupid.’
‘I had to do it. He was going to go down into the tunnel with that archaeologist. He would have found the temple.’
‘We could have found another way of stopping him … You really are hopeless. Just leave, will you?’ Marc Chevalier said.
It happened very fast. Metal glinted in Frédéric’s hand as he lifted his arm and plunged a knife into Marc Chevalier’s chest. The knife slurped as he pulled it out. Marc gasped and looked down as a red stain grew and spread on his white robe. He pressed a hand to his heart and collapsed onto the ground.
‘Marc!’ Serena’s cry echoed in the cave as she dropped to her knees, oblivious to the water which now started to pool into the temple.
‘You killed him!’
She howled, cradling her husband’s head in her lap.
‘Shut up,’ Frédéric shouted back. He hit her across the face and she crumpled to the ground.
‘That leaves just you and me.’
Frédéric gave her a crazed look, put his hands around her neck and squeezed until Amy struggled for breath.
‘I feel like playing with you a little,’ he whispered. ‘How does that feel, my lovely?’
‘And how does that feel, you worthless bastard?’
Fabien shouted as he threw himself at his cousin from behind. He grabbed his shoulders, pulled him off Amy and threw him across the room.
‘Fabien,’ Amy whispered, overcome with relief.
Her joy however was short-lived. With a savage growl, Frédéric lunged at his cousin, pushed him against the shrine, and lifted his knife once more.
‘Now I’ll finish off what I started at Buoux,’ he snarled, holding the blade to Fabien’s throat. ‘What I should have done a long time ago.’
She had to do something to help Fabien. She touched the crystal Serena had placed on her stomach. Her fingers curled around the stone and she threw it as hard as she could towards Frédéric.
Her pathetically weak shot didn’t even hit reach him but hit the statue with a clanking sound. Frédéric slackened his hold on Fabien to cast a surprised glance behind him.
Fabien grabbed hold of his arm, twisted it behind his back, and bashed his hand on the shine so that he let go of the dagger. It dropped onto the ground and sank in the muddy waters that now filled the temple.
Fabien smashed his fist into his cousin’s face, slammed him against the wall and Frédéric slid down to the floor.
Rushing to Amy’s side, Fabien lifted her from the stone table and cradled her in his arms.
‘Thank God I wasn’t too late. I thought I’d never find you.’
He stroked her face, kissed her lips.
‘We have to get out. The tunnels are getting flooded.’
‘They drugged me. I can’t walk. I can hardly move.’
‘Then I’ll carry you.’
‘What about Frédéric and the Chevaliers? Are we leaving them here?’
‘Bijard and his men are on their way. They’ll deal with them.’
He lifted her in his arms. Amy rested her head on his shoulder.
‘How did you know where I was?’
‘Stéphane told us. I was discharged from hospital tonight. My mother was driving back to the Manoir when we almost ran him over on the main road.
‘So we drove to the old village. Stéphane helped me find the entrance to the tunnel which had been left uncovered. I phoned the gendarmerie and let Bijard know what was happening. He told me to wait for him, but knowing you were in there was driving me mad, so I left my mother and Stéphane in the car and went into the tunnel. By the time I reached the first chamber you were gone. Thankfully I managed to find this place.’
He stopped and looked at the skulls nailed to the wall. Amy felt his muscles contract, his body shudder.
‘What are they?’
‘Sacrifices to the goddess,’ she answered in a quiet voice. ‘If Laurent is right, most of them date back from the time before the Romans came to Provence … others, unfortunately, could be more recent.’
‘So it was true. It was all true!’
He shook his head in disbelief.
‘There really was a cult. They killed and hurt all these people. And Serena was their priestess.’
‘That’s not all, I’m afraid.’<
br />
As Fabien started through the tunnel, she told him about Anne Loubier being involved too and wanting to be the next priestess.
‘I suspect what she’s really after is the treasure you once told me about. Serena is keeping its location a secret. She said only the priestess has the key to it.’
Suddenly, she blushed, remembering some details of the ceremony.
‘Serena chose me …’
Fabien looked down.
‘For what?’
‘As the new lady of Bellefontaine, she said I was the best placed to keep the goddess' cult alive. She said something else too.’
‘What?’
‘She said I was pregnant and that I would have a baby girl,’ she said quickly. ‘But she’s wrong. I mean, how can she possibly know that?’
Fabien didn’t reply but he held her more tightly against him, so close the drumming of his heart reverberated inside her.
By the time they reached the first chamber and started into the tunnel, the water level reached up to Fabien’s thighs.
‘We’ll soon be back at the old village, don’t worry,’ he said.
‘I’m so sorry you have to carry me,’ she apologised. ‘You’ve just been injured.’
He bent down and kissed her lips. ‘I’m just glad I got there before Fred hurt you.’
‘Did you hear what he said about the climbing accident?’
He nodded. ‘It was no accident.’
‘He wanted to kill you.’
They came out of the tunnel at last and into the cold, pouring rain. Shivering in her flimsy white robe, Amy nestled closer to Fabien.
The old village was dark and silent.
‘This is strange. Where is everybody? Bijard and his men should be here too by now. And where are my mother and Stéphane? The Range Rover is still over there but it’s empty.’
He carried her to the car, flung the passenger door open, and helped Amy sit down before getting in. He had just closed the door when there was a beeping sound. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket, stared at the screen in disbelief and let out a muffled curse.
‘Someone sent me a text,’ he explained, turning to Amy. ‘It says my mother and Stéphane are at Bellefontaine and I am to make my way there immediately if I want them to be safe. What the hell does this mean?’
