บท 35: Chapter Thirty-Five
The streets became quiet.
Paris was indeed silent in this area.
The shift to the slums of Paris was remarkably unnerving for Maria. Lively cake shops and cute cafés were replaced by unwelcoming establishments selling cheap grog or questionable antiques. Not a soul wandered the streets, aside from two homeless men they walked past taking shelter in cardboard boxes. The pavement they walked on was uneven and unmaintained, vastly unlike the walkways in the other districts. All doors were closed, every window cast a shadow, and the streets the girls ventured down were claustrophobically narrow. The stench was what truly disgusted Maria, the aroma of horse droppings left the fester on the sidewalk, and scavenged garbage made her stomach wretch. Unlike the cold air from Ava Street, the air seemed thin with a smog, stinging her eyes as she followed Sam, who walked unaffected by the stink.
Why would Raphael be here? Maria wondered.
As they rounded a corner, Maria saw the first standing person. A tall and thin woman wearing an oversized grey fur coat leaned against the wall with a cigarette on a stick. A small trail of green escaped the tip and lingered around her, leaving the air laden with an ominous, deadly atmosphere. She held Maria's stare as she took a long, slow breath of the cigarette and released an even slower cloud of smoke, smirking as the cloud dissipated.
"Don't look at her," Sam hissed quietly over her shoulder. "It doesn't matter how well-mannered you are; you make the wrong kind of face, or they decide you're looking at them funny we're both in ennuis."
Maria's eyes short forwards, staring at the back of Sam's head, as she felt the woman's eyes remain glued to her.
The streets appeared more crowded by this point, predominantly women smoking whilst chatting and some men leaning on the walls and simply watching. There seemed to be a similar dress code amongst them; expensive-looking fur coats, long black trench coats and dark clothing.
Sam stopped at the start of the street, looking on with Maria at the people who lingered in the street. The day had started to dim, casting frightening shadows down the road. Maria didn't feel safe and wondered how often Sam had been down here to feel comfortable enough not to tremble.
"Stay close to me. Try not to draw excess attention to yourself," Sam instructed as she began walking. "These people aren't nice. They won't act nice. They do not care about us or what we're here for. Don't try to be smart with them. They're all likely to have short fuses. Since we can't tell the difference, just assume everyone wants to fight you."
Maria's bones felt cold at that description.
She was led to a rickety-looking building on the corner of the street. From the loud ruckus escaping the cracked windows, Maria assumed it to be a tavern. There was a refreshingly warm glow coming from the windows, but that was the only thing homely about it. Its roof was on a severe slant to the walls of the building. Metal bins littered the front with fires beginning to roar within them, and the alleyways surrounding it were occupied by larger garbage bins. The entire building looked dark and drunk.
"Stay close." Sam approached the front doors of the tavern; the hinges screeched when she pushed them open.
Maria hesitated, the door slowly closing as Sam disappeared from the chaos. But Maria didn't feel safe just standing on the street corner. In contrast to the darkness, her blue dress was shockingly clean and caused odd stares from the people drinking and smoking outside. She forced an awkward laugh before marching through the doors.
She was assaulted by a strong waft of alcohol and smoke, causing her eyes to water from the sudden smell. She instinctively coughed and rubbed her eyes. She dared to open them and take in the tavern atmosphere, filled to the brim with shady looking people holding copper tankards at half a dozen round tables, standing around at the bar with a black bartender, or herding around some betting tables Maria didn't recognise.
She had to carefully weave her way through the people. Her' excuse me' and 'pardon me's were largely ignored. At one point, she could not move through, and the man who blocked the way ignored her nice attempts at going by. She shouldered her way through the gap, causing the man to stumble forwards and hit the table, his beer splashing on his already stained shirt.
"Hey!" His voice was drunk but powerfully deep. Maria stopped and turned on her heels, her heart hammering in her chest as the man towered over her. "What are you, blind?"
Maria attempted a deep breath to compose herself but was only met by a specific brand of alcohol coming off the man. She assumed he was a sailor of some variety, based on his strange accent and worker's jacket. In one quick scan of his body, she recognised he was right-handed, got drunk often, likely smoked, and had a limp in his left leg. She breathed out what she managed to breathe in and stood her ground. "No. You're just rude."
His table snickered at her reply. "Strong words coming from a little lady." He stepped closer, his potbelly inches from touching Maria.
She gagged. "I'm leaving."
She went to turn but felt his thick hands grip her shoulder and twirl her back around. "Hey! We ain't done yet!"
Out of fright, Maria kicked the man's left leg. Her assumption was correct as it caused the rest of his body to crumble. He yowled out in pain, grabbing the attention of four tables surrounding them as he punched the wooden floorboards.
Maria gulped, unable to move as she watched the man rise to his feet, his face red with anger as he leaned heavily on the table of his friends, who continued to drunkenly smirk at his circumstance. "You little-"
He raised his fist, and Maria thought he was going to strike her.
Maria was pulled backwards as Sam shuffled herself between the two and jabbed the man in the stomach. The small gesture forced the man over. Like Maria, Sam kicked the man's left leg from beneath him and gripped the man's hair, slamming his head into her knee. The attack was made in one swift motion.
The man laid sprawled on the ground, groaning as a hand absently touched his bleeding nose. Sam kneeled beside him and lifted his head by the hair again. "Do not touch her. You touch her, I castrate you. Got it?"
He only managed an unintelligible groan as she dropped his head back to the ground and straightened. His friends looked on in drunken amusement to Maria's surprise, unfazed by the assault as Sam pulled Maria by the arm through the crowd.
"They don't care about what you did?" Maria asked, looking over her shoulder.
"No one cares about what you do in here," Sam informed simply, "This room is full of criminals. They're all willing to fight; none of them care that you're a girl."
The harshness of Sam's voice was jarring for Maria as she held a pinch of her jacket to move through the crowd. Sam approached the bar and caught the attention of the barkeep. After a moment, he came to them. He appeared tired as he lazily polished glass with a white cloth. "What can I do ya for?" he asked.
"I'm looking for someone."
The barman draped his cloth over his shoulder, "You want information, you buy." He proceeded to pour Sam a honey-coloured drink from below the bar.
Sam clicked her tongue as she took the cup in her hand. Maria half-expected her to drink it, but she responded with, "I'm not interested in your product. I'm interested in a person." She slammed the cup back on the counter and slid it down the bar, where it eventually was snatched up by someone. "I'm looking for the Phantom of Paris."
"Never heard of him," he responded, taking out another cup to polished.
Sam sighed as she fished through her pockets, pulling out some money and placing it on the counter. "Three scotches. Now have you heard of them?"
The barman took this bribe in and smirked, sliding the money off the counter and replacing it with another cup of scotch, which Sam immediately slid down the bar again.
"He came in here last night. Wanted to work off some steam." The man began a fancy performance of pouring another drink, which he presented to Sam, who passed it off to Maria. "Hasn't left."
"What was he doing? Do you know?"
"Pissing off Benji's boys. Completely cleaned them out in poker." His eyes fell to Maria, who was looking at the glass Sam had given her. She mimicked her and pushed the drink down the bar for someone else. "Who's the snowflake?"
Maria gritted her teeth at being called a snowflake.
"A friend," Sam replied without looking to her. "Phantom owes us an audience, you see. Some unfinished business."
The black bartender took out another glass and filled it, adding some ice cubes for extra flair. "Seems to be a lot of that going on today."
"How so?" Maria chimed in.
The bartender was a tall and bulky man, the type of figure Maria had no doubt could manhandle any of the criminals into submission. He leaned over the bar, lowering his voice so as not to be easily heard. "You disappear on a whim with someone else's property and thousands of pounds worth of debt. It is stupid to think that you can just waltz back in here and expect everything to be alright. Everyone here holds a grudge, and a presence like Phantom gets around." He straightened, pushing the last cup towards Sam. "We aren't usually this busy, boy. You wanna see him, you're gonna have to wait in line like the rest of them." His hand retracted from the glass slowly, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I haven't heard anything else."
He flicked the cloth back over his shoulder and started going back down the bar.
An ice cube hit him in the back of the head, causing him to freeze and run a hand across where he was struck. He frowned as he turned; Sam leant over the bar with her arm still outstretched to make sure it hit him. "You're done when I say so." Her words were demanding, "It's only one more thing; where is he? Where is this line waiting?"
A smile came to the bartender's lips, followed by a large gesture with his arm, snapping his fingers and pointing across the bar where the gambling tables were set up.
Sam offered no thanks, simply picked up the cup of scotch and left the barstool she had been kneeling on. Maria followed quickly behind. "Raphael told me he had a gambling problem," Maria confessed as Sam started to weave her way through, "But he told me had stopped gambling-"
"Because of Anita," Sam finished, she turned around, and Maria almost ran into her, "Yeah. I've heard the story." She took a large sip of the drink and grimaced. "Yep, still bad." She flicked the rest of the cup, scotch and ice, onto Maria's front.
The alcohol was cold and sudden against her stomach and left a prominent stain on Maria's dress. "Sam?!"
"You smell too much like a flower," Sam replied, rubbing the side of her lip and still making faces from the stench. "I saw guys eyeing you at the bar. You're attractive." Her blatant statement confused Maria, who continued to stare at him quizzically. Sam continued, "We may need to get to the front of the crowd. If these criminals think you're attractive enough, they'll let you just go to the front of the crowd."
"What about that guy before? I doubt 'oh she's attractive' was running through his mind when he went to hit me!"
"You ran into him," Sam informed, pulling her behind her, "You need to let them see you and make room for you. But they won't go anywhere near you if they think you're some rich pansy." She paused and looked over her shoulder, "Or at least not for excellent reasons." She quickly turned around and tucked the expensive-looking pendant beneath her dress before grabbing her hand again and continued through the crowds.
Much to Maria's surprise, Sam was right. Sam allowed her to lead, and men parted for her. Men in tattoos, business suits, dock worker uniforms and everything in between flashed her smiles, every second either missing teeth or showing off a gold tooth. However, the ones that frightened her more were the remarkably normal-looking men. Older gentlemen dressed in their suits gave her genuine smiles and a hat tilt, one man even introducing himself and complimenting her. His sudden attraction rendered Maria speechless.
"Charming to make your acquaintance." Were his exact words as he kissed her hand.
Having seen how the girls acted in the tavern, Maria mimicked them as best she could. She snatched her hand back and smirked, "Charming means nothing to me. Next time you talk to me, either for a job or a drink, until then, don't waste my time." She brushed past him before he could offer her either, Sam hot on her heels.
"Lisse," Sam said.
"Merci," Maria replied.
The tavern was deceptively large. What Maria thought to be only a few meters away turned out to be in the next room over. Aside from small black-jack tables set up for smaller gambles, there was a small curtained hallway with a sign that read, 'DOUBLE NOIR DIAMANT JOUE,' or 'DOUBLE BLACK DIAMOND PLAYS.' Standing by the door was a man wearing rounded spectacles and a high collared trench coat. He seemed to be guarding the next room.
"Phantom must be in there," Sam said.
Despite this, Sam didn't move towards the door. Maria leaned close to her, "I take it we can't just walk in."
"That would be correct."
"Why? That man doesn't look too menacing."
"There are many different types of criminals, Maria. That guy is a grunt for a group called the Benji Gang. Phantom must be gambling with them." Sam's voice became grave and small. "My Father has had to investigate them dozens of times over the years. These guys aren't good news."
"Why is Raphael with them then?"
Sam seemed surprised. "How much did Phantom tell you about his gambling problem?"
Maria shook her head, "Not a lot."
Sam bit the inside of her cheeks and nodded. "You may want to keep it that way." Sam began towards the bodyguard, who squared himself out upon her approach.
"Sorry ladies," he said as the pair stood before him, "Private room."
"This is a criminal's tavern. Since when is there any privacy?" Sam countered, holding her arms.
"Since Boss said, kid. Now beat it." His demand was cold as he gestured them away like children.
"What if I could participate?" Sam asked.
He scoffed, "You don't have the money."
"No, but I'm the company. Phantom is playing right now, correct?"
"I'm not at liberty to say," he informed.
Sam paused, a milli-second, before saying. "Tell him I have his lucky charm then." She grabbed Maria's arm and pulled her forwards, "Got a little tipsy with some of the guys here. But he doesn't play without her." The man considered them for a moment. Sam added, "Tell him if he doesn't hurry up and let us in, I'll have to use her myself."
The man looked at Maria, who tried her best to not look like a deer in the headlights. He smirked, "He's never needed one before."
"It's been what? Two years? Man changes. He's no boy anymore," Sam explained, pushing Maria forwards. "You don't believe me. Have someone tell him Samantha's here. Once he hears that name, he'll ask you to bring her in."
The man considered the girls a moment before a shadow of a smirk crossed his lips. "One moment," he said as he pushed aside the curtain and disappeared.
Maria punched Sam. "What are you doing?"
"Do you want to get in there to see Phantom or not?" she asked as she rubbed where she had been punched.
"Yes, but lucky charm? Is that even a thing?"
"Most of the time, they're the player's girlfriend or 'female companion'" Sam gave bunny ears to the latter. "It literally just means a presence or someone to hold on your side. Superstitions. They won't question it."
Maria felt flustered, "You could've at least warned me."
"I only just thought of it. Besides, this means Phantom is definitely in there." The curtain started to draw back, "Hush!"
The man pushed his spectacles up, the shadow of a smile appearing on his lips. "Alright. You've been verified. Come in." He parted the curtain for the girls.
Sam nodded and walked first. Maria was forced to suppress her feeble side as she followed. Her throat felt parched as they strode down a small hallway, the walls covered by loose black silk curtains that brushed against Maria's arms and prompted a violent shiver from the uncomfortable cold. She turned her shoulders to prevent her arms from touching them. At the end of the small hallway were more people, but they were dressed in sophisticated styles. The men wore suits, not one wore a jumper or a cheap knock off, and women were dressed in elegant bell shirt gowns or unorthodox trousers and shirts. Maria felt she could've passed any of them in the street and not considered them to be criminals.
"Are these all felons too?" Maria whispered.
Sam shrugged, "More than likely. Welcome to the underbelly of Paris." Maria saw recognition in Sam's eyes, watching them focus on one person before locking onto another and concentrating on them.
"Do you know some of these people?"
Sam's voice sounded tight, "Yes." She offered no other response. Maria felt uneasy. Who were these people?
Maria noted there were three large gambling tables, each overcrowded with spectators. For two of the three, she could only see the man who dealt the cards who sat on a slightly higher chair at the head of the table. The ceiling, once white, was now yellow and crusted from the smoke that lingered above the heads of the people. It tainted the air and stung Maria's eyes. She choked down a cough repeatedly. She wanted to open a window, or perhaps a door, but only found four such options; two high to reach windows, the curtained hallway they had just entered from, and an exit door which she assumed led to the side alley.
The room was filled with dozens of well-dressed people, meaning elbow room was minimum. But unlike the tavern folk at the front of the establishment, the people moved seamlessly between each other and allowed people to move amongst them. They appeared much more civilised with the pair as they searched the room for Raphael.
Then she spotted something familiar; a navy-blue fedora resting on the face of someone in one of the gambling chairs. Raphael looked relaxed. He was surrounded by intimidating-looking men, each dressed in a different coloured suit but each forking up several pounds to the table. The fedora-wearing man pushed the rim of his hat from his eyes, revealing the striking face of Raphael Dane. He said something, but over the common noise, Maria hadn't a clue as to what.
Butterflies had set in her stomach, but not out of worry or guilt or anything she had expected to feel upon seeing him; it was fear coupled with an anxiety one would get from meeting someone for the first time. It was his face, his fedora, his clothes and his body, but he seemed different. His usual reserved, confident appearance was replaced by a natural smug expression, constantly casting a charming stare to everyone at the table, even when he didn't need to. In the thirty seconds Maria watched him, he ran his tongue across the points of his teeth four times, each time slower than the last. His charming demeanour gave off an uncomfortable atmosphere that made Maria feel ill.
Sam managed to find Raphael herself, taken aback similarly by the sight of Raphael, as he made the whole table suddenly roar with laughter, despite him sweeping up their money into a pile in front of him. Surrounding him were women who watched the game and often drifted towards whoever was winning. Each of them is stunning in one way or another and grovelling over each other for Raphael's attention. He either ignored their attempts or deliberately gave it to one, causing the rest to fluster and try harder.
"Do you still want to talk to him?" Sam asked.
Maria nodded, "Yes. He should at least get a chance to say goodbye to Anita," she said. She took a deep breath and sighed. She went to approach but was cut off by a man.
Unlike the other gentlemen in the room, this man was dressed in ragged clothing; a white shirt, dark green jacket and black trousers. His round face was rough with stubble and had a pale scar that stretched up his cheek and finished at the start of his ear. When he smiled, the corner of his mouth pushed the scar higher, making it appear as an extension of the smirk. "You the friend of Phantom?" he asked, his breath smelt of whiskey.
"I need to speak to him," Maria said.
A brooding silence followed the man. Sam appeared behind Maria, "Sir. Step aside."
"I'm afraid not, boy," he said.
Maria heard Sam sigh through her nose, but not object as she stood in front of Maria. "You don't get to decide any of Phantom's affairs. Now move aside."
Another voice made both the girls jump as they turned around and saw another man, mirroring the man in front of them in attire. "Benji Charon doesn't think so," he informed.
Maria didn't know who Benji Charon was. But if these men were his grunts, if he had their loyalty or fear, she feared him.
Sam grew pale at the mention of this name, and Maria saw Sam hold her breath. "Phantom disappears for years on end, still owing money to our boss," he informed, "Some collateral is needed, so he doesn't disappear."
"He won't," Maria assured. She couldn't tell if she was lying or not.
"Not if he gets the message," the scarred man informed, "Following orders. Don't take it personally."
"Or rather, you should've picked your friends more carefully."
Sam's jaw was visually clenched as the girls were herded away from the gambling table. Maria attempted to push past them but was shoved back, forced to stumble towards the side door. She looked to Raphael's table and screeched his name, her voice cutting through the chatter of the room, but she couldn't see if he had heard her.
The spectacle-wearing man stood by the double side doors and politely pushed open upon their approach so the girls could be pushed out.
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