Yesterday, I met Iz and his crew in the Jardin du Luxembourg to chat about the mermaid problem. After a brief discussion (detailed below), we went our separate ways for the evening. We were supposed to meet up at the Fontaine Saint-Michel at 5h30, but Iz never showed.
At 5h45, I went to the Wailin’ Camilla, but found her empty. If it weren’t for the latest entry in his log book, I would have gone back to the fontaine. I’m afraid something’s happened to Iz and his crew, so, I’m going to Notre Dame. There’s a priest there who might be able to help me figure out if the nest really is under Île de la Cité.
Dr. Caulfield, if you haven’t heard from us by tonight, send help.
Captain’s Log: Isodore Bagley of the Wailin’ Camilla
I can always count on Matty to come through for me. Sent me a cute-looking European girl. Marka. Of course, Frankie couldn’t take his eyes off her. Better keep him on the ship with the men, heh. Met up with her in Paris about that bloody mermaid. Pretty, though I always thought dreadlocks were a Jamaican thing. She had a big, blonde, bunch of ’em all wrapped up on top of her head, but she was as pale as a damn nordic elf! I’ll never understand style, heh. But she was a bit too serious, now that I’m thinking about it, especially for how young she is. Even if it is the business. Gotta be able to laugh it off every once in a while. But, hell. What do I know? I’m just a crazy old man chasing a mermaid, heh.
Not easy getting around France. No one on board knows a lick of French, except for Frankie, and I’m pretty sure all he really knows how to do is flirt with them. After a few hours of wandering around, we got to the statue like the girl said to. I gave her the whole run-down. She wasn’t particularly enthused to hear about the tracker shorting out.
Can’t imagine why she didn’t say thank you, heh. I gave her as much information as I could on the sea-bitches, which isn’t half as much as I know about ‘cabras. But, she did have a few interesting thoughts about the underground waterways, and the changes from saltwater to freshwater.
Good head on her shoulders, that one.
After we traded a little more information, she said something about heading to the subway in Vavin about a ghost, or something. I felt a little guilty not going with her, but I don’t get around quite like I used to. Anyways, we’re supposed to meet back up at the Saint Michelle Fountain tomorrow morning, but I don’t rightly know if we’re going to make it … even if she’s there waiting for us.
See, I found a guy–well, Frankie found a guy on his phone. Local man. Said he was pretty good with technology. And sure enough, we weren’t there more than twenty minutes, and he had the tracker back up and running. It was blipping like crazy. I asked the guy if he knew the source. Called it the “Eel de la City.” Said it was a tiny little island right in the middle of Paris. Got the Notre Dam right on it.
That’s where we’re headed. I wasn’t keen on taking that girl with us. She reminded me too much of Millie. Those hazel eyes. If Millie had had ten more minutes, she would have made it. So, the crew and I are going to kill some mermaids after all.
If I don’t make it, well … Millie, I’ll see you soon.