RISE OF THE LYCANS - Mates and Bonds

*** I'm moving the book to "complete" status because we only have about 10 more chapters to go, and it will give others a chance to discover it. The book should be complete in about two weeks.

I will continue to strive to post a chapter each night because I write every night - or try to!

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Lukas

“Why couldn’t we have taken the motorbikes?” Grandma grumbled as we reached the Louvre.

The motorbike Storm had stolen had an attached sidecar that Grandma was reluctant to give up. It was a relief to know Storm hadn’t recklessly put her on the back of the bike, but we couldn’t take any chances of the French police catching them with the stolen wheels. Flaym had also abandoned the food delivery motorcycle but kept the sack of food. He was currently eating his third shawarma.

“Grandma was kicked out of the Louvre when Caspian brought her with Persephone,” Selena told me. “She should probably wear something that covers her pink hair.”

Not wanting to take my eyes off my wandering Grandmother, I linked Rex and asked him to run across the street to what looked like a souvenir shop. Flaym passed around shawarmas, insisting we eat them because he wouldn’t be able to take them into the museum. I handed one to Selena, wanting to make sure she was eating enough.

“I remember the first time I had one of these in Egypt,” Grandma told us as she peeled back the foil.Belonging to NôvelDrama.Org.

“Was this the trip where you first saw a demon?” Flaym asked.

“It was,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

“Grandma, you don’t have anything in your purse that will get us caught at security screening, do you?”

“Of course not,” she replied. “I left the good stuff at the hotel.”

I linked with Rex and asked him to pick up a few bottles of water. Selena took a couple of big bites from the meaty sandwich and then held it out to me. The beast inside of me calmed. Even though I wanted to nibble on her, I couldn’t resist eating from the food she offered.

Storm stood in silence, looking at the courtyard with the big glass pyramid. The line at the main entrance was roped off to allow the final people in before closing. The sandwich in her hand had a few bites taken out of it, but she seemed distracted. We didn’t purchase tickets in advance, and we weren’t part of a private tour group, so we’d have to return tomorrow.

“Storm?”

“They have scheduled tours over there with skip-the-line passes,” she pointed. “We might be able to fast-track ourselves inside with a generous tip.”

“Perfect!” I nodded. She was always thinking two steps ahead.

“That sign looks like Parisian Tours over there,” Grandma said. “Maybe Sylvie is working on a private tour, and we can join her.”

“I don’t think Sylvie wants to see us again,” Flaym chuckled. “She’s probably still wondering what the hell happened in the catacombs.”

Rex returned with a bag in hand. He extracted several bottles of water and distributed them before he held out a bucket-style hat and a scarf. The scarf was on the transparent side, and we were trying to hide Grandma’s pink-tinted hair. I reached for the hat and gave it to her.

“What? No raspberry beret?” She asked, taking the hat and strolling to the sign that read Parisian Tours.

“Grandma, the entrance is over there.” Sol pointed behind us to the large glass pyramid in the center of the courtyard.

“Is that her? I think that’s Sylvie over there,” Grandma waved. “Yoo-hoo!”

Grandma was right. It was her. Her gray hair had been pulled back into a tight bun, and her lips pursed the moment her eyes landed on Grandma. The old lady had clearly not recovered from the mishap at the catacombs earlier today. A young female with strawberry-blonde hair was standing beside Sylvie holding the Parisian Tours sign. They were both wearing shirts with the Parisian Tours logo on it.

“Bonjour, Dori,” she managed a forced smile. “You’re still out sightseeing?”

“Oh yes,” Grandma replied. “There’s just so much to see here. We were hoping to zip through that line with your tour.”

“I’m sorry, the fast pass is for those who are taking a private tour.”

Flaym stepped closer to the young female working with Sylvie and winked at her. Judging by the blush creeping up her face, I knew Flaym would get us in. “Bonjour, chérie,” he greeted her with a smile.

“Bonjour,” she replied shyly.

“How many are you expecting on your tour?” He asked.

“Just these ten,” she said as Sylvie cleared her throat.

“I’m afraid the tour is full,” Sylvie told us.

“A thousand euros for the eight of us,” I offered.

“This is the last entrance evening tour. It’s a special hour-and-a-half tour of the twenty-five highlighted artworks in our brochure. We’re not allowed to have more than twelve in a group,” Sylvie told us.

“Two thousand euros,” Rex amended.

She exchanged words with the young tour guide working with her, who glanced over at Flaym with disappointment before nodding her head in agreement.

“Very well,” Sylvie nodded. “I will take the eight of you, and Caroline will take the others.”

“Excellent,” Rex handed her a wad of cash that she quickly shoved into her tote.

“See you around,” Flaym smiled at the blushing female as Sylvie led us to one of the entrances into the Louvre.

We went through a special check-in for tour groups, where she hastily placed a Parisian Tours sticker on our shirts. To my surprise and relief, Grandma made it through the security check without a problem. It was the end of the day, so the crowds had thinned.

“Sylvie, we were hoping to see the fortress under the Louvre,” Grandma told her.

“It’s your tour,” Sylvie nodded and started walking. “The Louvre Museum has three wings open to visitors. The Medieval Fortress is located at the lower level of the Sully Wing.”

I held Selena’s hand as we walked through the corridors, and Ranger did the same with his mate. Rex held his arm out for Grandma to take, and she looped her arm through it. Storm walked on the other side of Grandma, and I knew they were working together to help keep her hidden and out of trouble.

“The brochure shows that Venus de Milo is in this wing,” Flaym announced.

“Yes, it’s just ahead,” she told him. “The Sully Wing is the oldest part of the Louvre and houses treasures from Egyptian and Greek antiquities, as well as French works.”

Moments later, we took the stairs to the lower level to another part of the museum, which was the birthplace of the Louvre.

“We are walking through the moat of the first fortress built by King Philippe-Auguste in the twelfth century. It became the French Royal Residence and continued to transform over the years,” Sylvie explained. “It wasn’t until King Francis The First that the fortress was demolished and rebuilt as the Louvre palace.”

“All that work, and then King Louis The Fourteenth comes along and moves the Royal Residence to Versailles,” Flaym added, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t mind a moat!”

“There’s a scale model and history of the previous buildings just ahead,” Sylvie told us.

“I hear Napoleon tried to name the museum after himself,” Grandma said.

“Yes. He had plundered a great deal of art during the wars and invasions that he expanded the museum at a rapid rate,” Sylvie said. “After the fall of Napoleon, it was renamed the Louvre, which comes from the Latin lupara, meaning wolf, due to the presence of wolves in the area in previous centuries.”

“Turris Lupara,” Rex said.

“That is what they called the Great Tower,” Sylvie confirmed.

We looked at the scale-sized model. Storm nodded, and her voice came through the mind link. “This is what I’ve been seeing.”

“I saw the entire castle in my vision,” Rex told us through the mind link.

“There’s something at the Louvre that we’re missing,” I replied in frustration. “There has to be a clue here.”

I wasn’t sure if the clue was related to Alpha Darc, Erick, or Caspian, and not knowing it was driving me crazy. I should be searching Paris and tearing it apart, looking for Caspian. Rex and Storm had both seen this tower in a vision, but what did it mean?

“Sylvie, is there a painting of a naked man in a gold frame?” Storm asked.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific,” Sylvie said. “There are lots of nudes, and most of the paintings are framed in gold.”

“A naked man sleeping—”

“Oh, are you sure it’s not Sleeping Hermaphrodite?” Flaym asked.

“That’s a statue… it looks like a female but has a salami,” Grandma told him. “Storm is asking about a painting.”

“Right,” Flaym nodded.

“As I was saying,” Storm continued. “It was in a gold frame, hanging on a red wall.”

“If it’s a red wall, it’s going to be in the Red Rooms, which are in the Denon Wing,” Sylvie told us. “Would you like to go there next?”

“Yes, please,” Storm replied.

We went back up the stairs and followed Sylvie through the turns of several halls. Grandma was whispering something to Rex, and I noticed a security guard looking in our direction. He must have felt my gaze on him and immediately turned his eyes away. I thought for a moment that he had recognized Grandma but then realized he was just checking out my sister. Storm didn’t even notice or acknowledge the stares she often got.

“The Royal Crown Jewels are just this way,” Sylvie told us, and I noticed Rex’s arm flexed tighter around Grandma’s. There was no way he was going to let her loose around the jewels. She already had a large collection she had collected during a tomb raid in Egypt.

“Is that the room for the Mona Lisa?” Flaym asked.

“Yes, but that’s not a red room,” Sylvie said. “This room features masterpieces such as The Coronation of Napoleon and The Raft of Medusa.”

Storm moved to a painting hanging on the right side of the room. It looked like something Michelangelo could have painted. It was a classical Roman oil on canvas. Storm stood in silence, looking at the sleeping naked man bathed in sun or moonlight.

“This is it,” Storm said just above a whisper.

“That piece is called The Sleep of Endymion,” Sylvie said, and the air grew tense. Every shifter knew the story of Endymion because he was the mortal the Moon Goddess fell in love with.

“Yep, he’s got the good old twig and berries hanging out,” Grandma chimed.

“Legend says the Goddess of The Moon, Selene, fell in love with the handsome shepherd,” Sylvie explained. “She asked Zeus to make Endymion eternally youthful so she could be with him forever. Zeus granted her wish and put Endymion into eternal sleep, freezing him in time.”

“Could the Moon Goddess be showing Storm the visions?” Selena asked me. “First the tower, and now the mortal she loved.”

“I think you might be on to something.”

“Sylvie, can you think of any artwork that may depict the moon melting?” Rex asked.

“There are some portraits here that have the moon, but I’m not sure if they look like they’re melting,” she replied.

We moved from one room to the next as if we were on a scavenger hunt. Sylvie looked a little leery, but we didn’t have time to waste. The museum would be closing soon, and we were trying to find a needle in the haystack.

“There it is again,” Grandma pointed to a painting with a young female dressed in armor. “Jeanne d’Arc… as if everyone is supposed to know that’s Joan of Arc,” she scoffed.

“Doesn’t that say, Jeanne Darc?” Flaym asked, and my beast rumbled. Darc and d’Arc could have been the same.

“This is Jeanne De-Arc,” Sylvie emphasized the pronunciation of her last name.

“Joan of Arc was burned at the stake for witchcraft,” Grandma added.

“She was a deeply religious maiden and the Patron Saint of France,” Sylvie shot back.

“If you say so,” Grandma replied.

“Could Erick have been related to Pierre Darc?” I asked Selena.

“Possibly,” she nodded.

It wasn’t unheard of for a mage to be mated with a shifter, though it was rare. You either inherited the wolf gene or the magic gene, but never both. Ranger’s mother, Hazel, was the first-ever hybrid, and we’re not even sure that’s what she is. She’s a wolf with magic, and her magic seems to be on a different level than the mages that walk the earth today.

Uncle Balthazar always said some of the most notable people in history were not human. I’d be sure to ask him what he knows of Jeanne d’Arc. Even if she was a maiden, she probably had siblings who also shared the same surname and magic gene.

“There are two other rooms, and we still have forty minutes until closing,” Sylvie reminded us.

We continued on the search for a melting moon, and I wondered if it could have been a statue. Storm stopped and looked at another painting that featured a winged man with a spear standing on the back of a creature with two horns. Horns that looked familiar.

“This one is called Saint Michael Overthrowing the Demon,” Sylvie told us. “It’s one of my personal favorites painted by Raphael. The demon bringing chaos is cast back into the world of darkness by God’s strongest Archangel.”

“A demon, you say?” Grandma moved closer for a better look. “Look at that… he’s got two curved horns.”

“Chaos?” Storm questioned pensively.

“Chaos!” Flaym said. “Have you ever heard of the Star of Chaos?”

“Star of Chaos?” Sylvie repeated.

“It’s an eight-point star,” Flaym told her.

“I’m sure there’s something in the Richelieu Wing, where we house the Mesopotamian arts. The eight-point star was the mark of Ishtar, which dates back thousands of years before Christ.”

“Take us there,” Ranger told her.

“We may not have any time to look around,” Sylvie said as she checked her watch.

“We’ll move quickly,” Sol urged.

Reluctantly, Sylvie led us past the Winged Victory statue, down the stairs, across a long hall, and into the Richelieu Wing.

“Oh, I didn’t make it to this section when we were here last,” Grandma said. “I was hoping to see Napoleon’s secret apartments.”

“Sorry, Grandma, we don’t have time,” Rex told her.

“Secret apartments?” Flaym sounded interested.

“The only apartment open for viewing last belonged to Napoleon The Third,” Sylvie told us. “The others have been closed off.”

Flaym arched a brow. “Are we talking like a fancy bachelor pad or something?”

“Monsieur Flaym, the Louvre was once a Royal Residence,” Sylvie corrected him like a history professor. “Of course, there are still some Royal apartments here with the finest furnishings of the time.”

“I may have to come back some other time to check them out,” Flaym told her as we turned a corner into the ancient rooms of Mesopotamia.

We moved past the five-legged winged bulls of ancient Assyria and seemed to be the only people left in this part of the museum. My beast stirred, and I quickly scanned our surroundings. I could sense my mate was also uneasy, and I noticed Storm scanning the area as if she was expecting to find someone or something.

Sylvie continued walking, and we followed. She stopped at a black stone carving that showed ancient writing but also had a crescent moon beside the eight-point star.

“Ishtar was the goddess of love, sexuality, and fertility,” Sylvie explained. “She was also the goddess of war, so she is often depicted winged and bearing arms. She could cause chaos, so it’s not surprising her eight-point star is a symbol of chaos.”

A voice came over the loudspeaker, telling us to make our way to the exit because the museum was closing.

“I’m afraid our tour ends here,” Sylvie said as the glass casing beside Storm suddenly shattered.

“That wasn’t me,” Grandma immediately professed as we looked around for the cause.

Sylvie looked startled as a Louvre employee rushed into the room, speaking in rapid French. Rex hugged Storm to him, checking for wounds, but she seemed to be unscathed. Two uniformed security guards rushed into the room, followed by a woman in a pantsuit.

“We should go before someone recognizes Grandma,” Selena said through the mind link, and I had almost forgotten about her being kicked out.

The woman in the pantsuit seemed to be in charge and motioned for us to leave. Sylvie was in charge of the tour, so the security guard spoke to her as she tried to explain what had happened. She looked a little shell-shocked for the second time today and explained how no one touched the case.

One of the security guards stopped us and asked if we knew anything. “We didn’t see anything, but it’s possible the glass had cracked during the earthquake yesterday and finally gave out.”

“Oui,” he nodded, trying to make sense of it. “I suppose it is possible.”

“Au revoir,” Grandma wiggled her fingers to wave good-bye, and we quickly left the wing.

We had just reached the exit when I noticed a familiar priest disappear down another corridor.

“Either my eyesight is going, or I just saw Father Fontenay scamper off,” Grandma told us.

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