The Sunken City Trilogy

by Phil Williams

  Pax crept through the kitchen and peered down the steps. They ended in a bland corridor below, where the blue glow was brighter. Casaria was barely in view, looking further in. Pax ventured down the stairs slowly, and when she reached the bottom she didn’t immediately clock what he was looking at. There were doors leading off the corridor, to the sides, and a single light on the wall, but nothing else.

  “Here,” Casaria said, pointing at the floor.

  Pax followed his gaze to a small object near his shoe. A bug?

  She took a step closer and squinted at it. It had wings, and was hardly bigger than a house spider, but it wasn’t a bug. Spread out on the floor, it had humanoid limbs. Pax imagined a child dragged down here, dropping their action figure on the way into one of these torture chambers. When Casaria crouched and picked up the figure, however, she saw that it was limp, hanging from the arm he lifted it by.

  Pax shifted closer, to get a proper look.

  A tiny woman, two inches tall, with lacy wings like a butterfly’s. She had fantastically detailed clothing; a white t-shirt with a pattern too small to make out, and small denim shorts with a relatively thick leather belt. Strands of hair in various shades of pink and blue hung across her face. Strapped around her thigh was a minuscule holster, the handle of a pistol sticking out. It was an incredibly detailed and stunningly lifelike action figure.

  One of her wings was suddenly snapped from her, jerking her torso as it was ripped out. Pax started in alarm, eyes wide as she looked at Casaria.

  “In case it wakes up,” he said, holding the freshly plucked wing between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. He ground the lacy material between his fingers and it split apart and crumbled into the air. “Get one of these things flying around, you’ll never catch it.”

  Pax returned her attention to the tiny woman, still immobile despite the brutal mutilation. Her other wing hung limply to the side, and she wasn’t bleeding, the extraction done as freely as it would be with an insect. Pax caught herself thinking – why would a toy bleed?

  “What do you mean wakes up?” she said.

  “Take it.” He held the little woman out and Pax raised her hands without thinking. He dropped the body into her cupped palms. It flopped like a rag doll, making her tense. The little lady weighed roughly the same as a plastic figurine, but Pax could feel the textures of clothing and flesh, and the soft hair.

  “This place was only recently rigged to detect things like this,” Casaria said, pointing to the ceiling. “Releases a gas that they’re highly sensitive to. It could be out for the better part of a day. We’ll be rid of it before then, though.” With that, he turned to open one of the doors. As Pax stared dumbly at the miniature figure in her hands, Casaria moved into a room and flipped a light switch. He raised his voice as he got further away. “Haven’t seen one in maybe nine months, myself. They’re masters at staying hidden. But dangerous as hell. No matter how cute you think it looks, you do not want to see one of those things alive, let alone awake.”

  He reappeared in the doorway, noticing Pax hadn’t moved. She said, “What’s it doing here?”

  “Well, it’s no coincidence, that’s for sure.”

  Pax looked up at him, not following, but he didn’t elaborate.

  “It’s good we came across it,” Casaria told her. “It’s another thing I doubt you’d believe without seeing. There’s a plague of these things in the city, but we’ve never found their source. It’s because of their sort that the Ministry does what it does.”

  “Does what it does...” Pax echoed, barely following.

  Casaria pointed through the doorway. “Come in.”

  Holding the small figure out ahead of her, as carefully as if it were a baby bird, never taking her eyes off it, Pax walked after him. In the room, there was a table, a set of filing cabinets, a computer and three office chairs. Casaria indicated one of the chairs, but Pax remained standing, transfixed by what she was holding. He passed her and pointed at a map of the city on the wall. It was overlaid with thick lines, like a maze.

  “There’s something under Ordshaw, Pax,” Casaria said. “A force that makes this city special. I need to get this across to you, straight away, because it’s vital. It makes great things possible, but this force comes at a price. Things like the sickle. Things like this abomination.” He pointed loosely at the small figure. “They’re the price. We keep them in check. I do. I protect ordinary people from this extraordinary world. And I protect that extraordinary world, too.” Pax eyed him, sure that he’d said these grandiose words before. Maybe practised them in a mirror. He gestured to her hands. “These things are, as a rule, disruptive and violent creatures. They’d do harm to anything and everything down there.”

  “So what’s it doing here?” Pax asked again.

  “You want my guess? They’re thinking if they get the boy, they make amends for what his father did. His dad got in with them, a long time back, and there’s tales he stole something of theirs that could harm everything we seek to protect. It got him killed, but whatever he took never surfaced.”

  Pax looked from the figure to Casaria, then back to the figure. She swallowed her thoughts. There was a thing in this mix-up. He’d said it before, that Rufaizu might have access to things he shouldn’t. Things like that weird object she’d taken from his apartment.

  Apparently reading her troubled face, Casaria said, “You’ve always known there’s something more than the ordinary world, haven’t you?”

  “Not like this.”

  “The details aren’t important. You have the right attitude, I knew it when I first saw you.”

  “The details are a little important.” Pax looked up at him again, feeling like she hadn’t blinked in a day. “I have a tiny woman in my hands. A...fairy?”

  “No, don’t make that mistake.” Casaria quickly shook his head. “That’s not a person, and it’s certainly not anything magical. That’s a vicious little monster. A pest.”

  Pax took a defensive step back, holding the small figure closer to her. “What are you going to do with her?”

  “Not her,” he insisted. “It. It needs to be disposed of. We’ve got an incinerator not far away.”

  “No,” Pax said, hearing the word come out on instinct.

  “What?” Casaria replied.

  “No,” she repeated, slower, forming her thoughts as she spoke. “You can’t burn her.”

  “Right.” He put his hands on his hips. “I told you I’d offer you a choice, Pax, and this is as good a way to do it as any. I can show you a whole new world. Involve you in something that really matters. In order for you to join me, though, you have to be able to accept what needs to be done.”

  The figure in her hands looked so peaceful, like a sleeping doll. It had impossibly small fingers, tiny boots on its feet.

  “You’re thinking too much,” Casaria said. “Imagine it’s a locust.”

  “Let me take her,” Pax said. “I’ll take care of her myself. Humanely.”

  “Not a chance,” Casaria replied with a short, sharp laugh. “I have to be sure there’s no trace of it. Pax, you have potential, but you’ve given me no reason to trust you.”

  “Then...” Pax hesitated. The drive to flee she’d felt before, all her fears, were now transferred to the little life in her hands. She could run, bolt for the door and maybe make it back to the car. She could try and push him down, wrestle the gun from him. What other option did she have? She couldn’t just let him kill this beautiful creature. She tried to distract him as her mind raced. “You can’t burn it. That’s horrible. There’s got to be a better way.”

  “Smother it first, then, what do I care? It’s already drugged.”

  “No, let me –”

  “There’s no way that thing gets out of my sight. For everyone’s safety. And now we’re on it, you should come with me to the incinerator. We’ll do it while the thing’s still breathing to be sure this is something you can go through with. In its extreme.”
/>   “If I refuse?”

  Casaria gave her a firm look. “This is important, Ms Kuranes.” He’d brought out the surname. Full sincerity. “There are necessary evils we have to live with, for the good of this world. Hand it back to me, we’ll deal with it together.”

  To hand the small figure back would be as good as committing murder herself. But he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t let it out of his sight. She said, “Hold on, just hold on...”

  “It’s a lot to process, I get that,” Casaria told her plainly. “But I’m hoping you won’t disappoint me. I thought you had the right temperament for this work. You understood about the Roma boy, after all.”

  She kept her face straight as that sank in. What did he think she understood about Rufaizu? That she hadn’t wanted to help him?

  Her only option, she saw, was to play up to this odd impression Casaria had formed of her since he first laid eyes on her. Whatever she had done to convince him of whatever he thought she was capable of, she could use that. If she wanted to avoid being disappeared herself, she had to at least make him believe she was still capable of being who he thought she was. Pax thought out loud: “Okay. I can do it. Not the incinerator, though. Not like that. I could...”

  It was so small, she could pretend to squash it. Just like palming a card. It wouldn’t be hard to slip the figure into her pocket and have him believe she had crushed it. But there would be no remains. He would never believe it. Had to remove all trace.

  “I knew I was right about you.” Casaria was smiling, confirming Pax’s suspicions. “But you’d better let me –”

  Pax flung a hand up to her mouth, thrusting the little figure in. It was barely a mouthful, but she made a show of her bulging cheek, holding Casaria’s gaze as he started, “What the hell are you –”

  She quickly positioned the creature in her mouth, cringing at the feel of the small human on her tongue. Then she swallowed as Casaria yelled in alarm. She gagged, keeling forwards and putting a hand to her mouth, and he rushed to her side, hopping about frantically.

  “What the hell!” he repeated, escalating almost to a scream. “What was that? What’s wrong with you? Why would you do that?”

  Pax rose to standing with tears in her eyes. She let out a little whimper.

  “Jesus Christ,” Casaria continued. “I’ve seen some sick stuff – that takes it. Who the hell does that? Are you out of your mind? Why?”

  “I –” Pax went to speak, then swallowed again, putting a hand to her throat and making a show of another little gag. She cringed and said, “I think her gun scratched me.”

  He stared at her in sheer disbelief.

  “I’ve got the right temperament,” Pax croaked. “I...couldn’t let you burn her.”

  “That was your solution?” Casaria gaped, incredulous. “Jesus Christ! That’s worse! That’s so much worse!”

  Pax bit her lip at him, affecting her best innocent look. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering obscenities. She suggested weakly, “Maybe we should call it a night.”

  He stopped and stared at her, looking utterly exasperated. Then he shook his head. “No.”

  She froze. He took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to be this easy.

  “We had a deal. You won’t get another chance.”

  Pax frowned at the ominous comment, and flinched as he walked past. He ignored her, though, back on his own track, seemingly not bothered if she followed or not. He went along the corridor to the next doorway, then took out a key and unlocked the door. Pax crept slowly up behind him as he opened it, just a crack. Just enough for her to see Rufaizu. He was slumped in a chair, like he’d been drugged too, but the sound of the door stirred him. His eyes shot open and Pax shot towards him, but the door slammed shut again.

  “He won’t be here tomorrow,” Casaria said, as he turned the lock again and whatever the young man called out was muffled. “I shouldn’t even be showing him to you here. That’s got to be enough. You’re satisfied?”

  Pax’s eyes were wide open but she had no idea what to focus on. In the confusion of the tiny lady she’d forgotten why she was even there, and that brief glimpse had given her no idea whether Rufaizu was hurt or not. He was alive, at least, and Casaria had, for his faults, kept his word to show her so. He was looking at her, even, with an expression of hopefulness.

  She nodded and muttered appreciation, and his shoulders slumped with some kind of relief.

  “Good,” he said, lighter. “Great. What a night, huh? What a start.”

  Pax nodded again, not trusting herself to say anything, letting him form his own ideas. All that mattered now was to get out of there before he realised the fairy was still alive. And now she’d seen Rufaizu, she might have something to fend off the psycho caller.

  15

  Fresko watched the pair exit the safe house through the scope of his rifle. The stiff suit and the rough-looking girl, both the worse for wear on the way out. Something had happened and there was still no sign of Letty. He adjusted the scope, tuning his microphone as the pair moved around the car. The man stopped and said something over the car to the girl. Fresko missed it, but got a clear read on the lady’s response: “I saw a dog human claw creature and swallowed a fairy, I’ll need some time to process.”

  Fresko sat back in surprise. What?

  The humans looked at each other gravely enough to suggest it was true. Flashing in anger, Fresko trained the rifle sights on the girl’s temple. Finger on the trigger, he gave a second glance to the man. He was behind the car. By the time the shot hit her he’d be behind cover. Fresko couldn’t get them both.

  The man opened the driver’s side door and gestured to the lady to get in. Fresko squeezed the trigger, slightly. Testing it.

  Letty always said there were two ways to do things: the right way and the dumb way. It usually followed a suggestion from one of the others. Shooting that girl would be a dumb thing to do, Fresko didn’t need anyone to tell him that. He would expose himself and might get caught. It’d inspire the wrath of the Ministry, and do a whole lot more damage to the rest of the Fae. But if what that girl had said was true, something had to be done.

  Letty was a handful, an uncompromising badass, but she was their badass. For all their faults, she had never given up on any of them.

  And he’d let her go in there alone.

  Let those monsters get hold of her.

  Fresko’s finger shook against the trigger.

  The lady twisted to his direction before ducking into the car, and he got a good, hard look at her face. Big round eyes, big nose. Big fucking idiot in general, gonna eat a bullet.

  Maybe not tonight, but some day soon.

  A flutter of wings announced the arrival of Mix and Gambay, swooping onto the ledge next to Fresko. The car doors slammed shut and the engine started.

  “What’s happening?” Mix asked.

  Fresko sat back as the car pulled away. He said, “They were in there. The suit and the girl. Letty was in there, too.”

  “Where is she now?”

  The sniper gave him a cold, don’t-ask look.

  “If they did anything –” Gambay started, but Fresko cut him off.

  “She’s toast. We go down there looking, whatever got her will get us too. Listen. Them congregating on this place, with something that trapped her there, it’s gotta be where the boy is. There’s no way we’re getting him out of there alone, though.”

  “So let’s punch a hole in that car and get some human assistance,” Mix growled.

  “We should be cutting his balls out already,” Gambay said.

  “That’d be the dumb thing to do,” Fresko warned, the car already all but out of view. “This is the Ministry. He’s not exactly gonna do something because we ask, no matter how we ask it.”

  “We need that boy,” Mix said.

  “We need more men,” Fresko said.

  Mix stared at the safe house. The other two waited, Gambay grinding his teeth in anticipation. Mix said, “If Letty got in the
re, then this place is burnt. The girl’s new to this, so your man will be getting her out of the way before coming back here to move Rufaizu. We get him then, outside the defences. Get him out the way and take his car.”

  “He’s a Ministry agent,” Fresko reaffirmed sternly.

  “Who fucked with Letty,” Mix snarled. “We don’t need to kill him, anyway, just scare him off. Spring the boy, get the Dispenser back. Finish what Letty started. We’re supposed to roll over because he wears a goddamned government suit?”

  “It could start a war,” Fresko stated.

  “Not a war,” Gambay answered. “A massacre. Long overdue.”

  Mix nodded agreement. “Yeah. Might be exactly what we need.”

  The drive to Pax’s apartment was even more awkward than the drive to the safe house had been. Casaria chastised her, but tried to stay positive and practical, insisting she check her stool to leave no trace of the bug. She barely responded. He wasn’t upset with her; it was tough to be introduced to this world, and she had done better than most when faced with the sickle. Hard-case Sam Ward hadn’t been any better on her first outing, vomiting in the gutter, though no one would believe it now. A few hours, maybe a night to sleep it off, and Casaria was confident Pax would be able to see this with the calm and logic it deserved.

  Her swallowing that thing was a part of her fear and confusion, that was all. Pax must have had her reasons. Some aversion to fire, a serious need not to drag out what they were doing, something. Whatever it was, it must have made sense in her mind in the moment, maybe like jumping into the sea rather than slowly lowering yourself in. She took an extreme course because she was overwhelmed by the choice he’d forced on her. Yes – that made sense.

  Her mind was ticking over this new reality, he could see that. She was no longer fighting the urge to run and seemed to have quickly got over any sense of denial. She had also demonstrated some very lateral thinking. He would never have considered such an action, in trying to get rid of a body. It was sick, and strange, but he couldn’t deny it was a solution. No, better than fear and confusion, it was a sign that she’d roll up her sleeves and get involved in the dirty work, with gusto and innovation.