Alex Archer - Magic Lantern

“I didn’t mean to scare anyone,” Dutilleaux replied innocently. “I merely stayed overlong at my studies. I’ve not lost my keen fascination for the things I’m about to show you. In fact, I’d wager after I reveal them to you that you won’t soon find them far from your mind, either.”

The mocking certainty in Dutilleaux’s voice served to further unnerve Michel. He cursed himself for not having the foresight to bring a handful of candles. They would have been better than nothing should he need to…leave these others behind.

“Well, I hope to see these fascinations of yours before I grow much older,” Gervaise groused. “Otherwise, you won’t see a single franc from me.”

Michel gazed at the other men and women gathered around the fat man. Nearly all of them appeared to be his toadies and hangers-on. Gervaise didn’t attract friends as much as he did dependents. Michel was certain the merchant was paying for everyone.

“Please come this way.” Dutilleaux gestured.

“How much farther?”

“Only a little.” Without another word, Dutilleaux walked into the darkness as if he could see in it.

They all hesitated. Then Gervaise took a fresh grip on his lantern and walking stick and started forward. The crowd seemed to shrink in on itself as everyone began to move.

Swallowing his fear once more, Michel cast a last glance back the way they’d come. The urchin had disappeared. Doubtless he knew his way to the surface, but Michel wasn’t so sure he could find his way back even with the marks on the walls. He turned and followed the light down into the tunnel.

* * *

“AS YOU MAY HAVE HEARD,” Dutilleaux said as they walked, “I’ve recently returned from an extensive stay in the Orient. Shanghai, actually.”

Michel knew that because he’d written the piece on Anton Dutilleaux divulging that information. The reporter had interviewed one of Dutilleaux’s servants the previous week.

“While there, I learned much about the spirit world,” Dutilleaux said. The lantern light revealed him ducking beneath a low arch. “Do watch your heads here, please.” He continued down the steep incline. “The Chinese spirits and ghosts are quite active, you know. Have you heard of the huli jing?”

“No,” one of the women answered. Others echoed her answer.

Michel followed cautiously. His fingers trailed over the rough stone as he passed beneath the arch.

“The huli jing is a fox spirit,” Dutilleaux continued. “It takes the form of a beautiful maiden and seduces men, turning them weak or cruel. There are a number of stories about them.”

“Have you ever met a huli jing?” the woman asked with keen interest.

“No, sadly.”

“Why do you say sadly?”

“Because the amorous nature of the fox spirit is legendary.” Dutilleaux turned and smiled at his small audience. “I’m told it would have been quite the experience. I embrace challenges on the field of ardor.”

A couple of the women laughed.

Gervaise glared them into silence. “Dutilleaux, if I don’t see something soon, I’m going to—”

Dutilleaux clapped his hands. Immediately pale yellow flames jumped from his palms and raced along the walls to outline a small chamber filled with stacks of bones.

“God help us,” one of the men said.

“Witchcraft,” one of the women gasped.

Cotton-mouthed, Michel stared at the flames. For the first time in his life, he felt he was in the presence of something truly arcane.

As if entertaining in a well-appointed drawing room instead of beneath the city, Dutilleaux turned to face his audience and spread his arms wide. “Come. Don’t be afraid. I won’t let anything you see here harm you in any way.”

“Where—?” Gervaise raised the lantern and walking stick before him. “Where did you get all these skeletons?”

“He’s brought us down here to kill us,” a woman whispered. “Those are the bones of his previous victims.”

“I should think I would have been quite busy, if that were true.” Dutilleaux smiled and shook his head. “These poor souls aren’t here through any doing of mine.” He gazed at the stacks of skulls and long bones. Rib cages lay in another pile. “The church is responsible for their presence with us. Everyone interred at Saint-Nicolas-des-Champs is being moved here.” He shrugged. “The church takes care to work at night. It wouldn’t be seemly for people to see them trundling around wheelbarrows filled with skeletons, would it?”

“Dutilleaux is telling the truth,” an older man said. “I’ve talked to some of the priests. They’re emptying the graveyards so Paris can grow.”

The flames in the room continued to burn. Upon closer inspection, Michel noted that gutters had been cut into the wall for oil. Dutilleaux had simply—through some sort of sleight of hand—lit the oil.

“Did you want to talk about real-estate possibilities, gentlemen?” Dutilleaux asked. “Or did you want to talk about what I discovered in my travels?”

“Show us,” Gervaise ordered. “I’ve not got all night.”

“Don’t be so demanding,” Dutilleaux cautioned. “The spirits of China can be quite vengeful. I thought I’d already apprised you of that.”

The fat man scowled at him and his jowls quivered as he restrained what was no doubt a sharp retort.

For a time, Dutilleaux talked about his journey to the old empires of China. He mentioned the people he’d met and the places he’d seen. As he spoke, the flames depleted the oil in the gutters and the room grew gradually darker.

* * *

IT WASN’T UNTIL FULL DARK had almost returned that Michel wished Dutilleaux would hurry up his presentation. Dutilleaux was an excellent storyteller, though, and his trained orator’s voice filled the cavernous space with excitement.

“Though I saw all these things,” Dutilleaux concluded, “I saw nothing as stupendous as that which I’m about to show you.” He paced the room like a wild animal, and the darkness settled about him like a favorite cloak. “I found a way to open a gate to the Celestial Heavens. I can visit the Oriental afterlife. Tonight, I can take you with me.”

Michel leaned against the cold stone wall and waited. The room seemed colder, and he didn’t think it was his imagination.

“I don’t see a gate,” Gervaise grumbled.

“That’s because your eyes aren’t finely attuned to the spirit world. But perhaps I can help you to bring the spirit world into better focus.”

Michel’s heart thudded in his chest and blood roared in his ears.

Theatrically, as if all of this was taking place on one of the stages where he’d first honed his showmanship, Dutilleaux gestured to either side. Gray smoke billowed up from the stone floor.

It’s just a trick, Michel reminded himself. It’s nothing you haven’t seen in theaters.

But the unsettling sensation within him grew stronger. The smoke continued to swell till it nearly filled the room.

Then a glowing shape appeared in the haze. Indistinct at first, the image gradually grew sharper, till it revealed itself as a beautiful young Oriental woman. Dressed in a long flowing red gown and with her black hair pulled up, she hovered there in the smoke.

“My lady,” Dutilleaux greeted warmly. “I bid you welcome to the earthly realm.”

The apparition nodded slightly but did not speak.

“I crave a favor,” Dutilleaux said. “I have friends with me tonight. They wish to look upon the Celestial Heavens.”

Just a trick, Michel thought. It’s all done with lights and painted glass. No one is there.

But the woman in the smoke moved and pointed to her right. A moment later, a doorway appeared and hung in midair.

The crowd sat silently. Michel didn’t know if they were even breathing.