Part 3
Sunday
1
“Apothel didn’t need to die,” Letty explained. “There’s countless dumb lummoxes that’ve got in our way before and lived. Draws too much attention to kill them all. It’s on me, that. Totally on me.”
Pax crossed her legs on the bed, trying to get comfortable as she sat over the small woman, a fresh beer in hand and more rum in Letty’s cap. Letty was looking away from her, staring into the memory. She continued, “There was a power struggle going on in the FTC around then, which lasted years. The big leadership contenders were Valoria Magnus and her brother-in-law, your mate Retcho.”
“Ah ha.”
“Retcho and his followers were developing weapons. They wanted to wage war on the myriad creatures and anyone associated with them. Val had a more academic approach. Believed in improving the Fae supply of dust and laying low, building up the whole community’s strength to reclaim the Sunken City later. She also spread word that Retcho wanted to use his weapons on his own people, that his work needed to be stopped. Things swung her way in the end, but it came out, after her big coup, that Retcho had been close to completing something that might destroy the berserker.”
“That being your name for Rufaizu’s minotaur? The praelucente.”
“Yes.” Letty drew this out at length, demonstrating annoyance. “Our name for whatever stupid shit other people call it. It’s the beating heart of the Sunken City’s disease. Everything else follows it around down there – and that thing, more than anything else, senses Fae presence in the tunnels. Everyone wanted to know about the Dispenser, then. What if it really could secure the Sunken City? A lot of Fae were dead and the functioning of this thing wasn’t clear, so Val set the boffins in FTC Uni to studying –”
“There’s a university?”
“Crispy geckos, is everything in our fully functioning and technologically advanced society surprising?”
“Crispy geckos?”
“Shut up. Where was I? These boffins were studying this machine, and starting up new studies into the berserker. They realised Apothel’s crew of prats could be matched to the movements of the berserker. We’d known about them before, bums bumbling about Sunken City entrances – but now it seemed this merry band of idiots had graduated from drinking funny juice to actively tracking the berserker. And half the time they got near it, the thing moved.”
Pax nodded. “Barton said they got instructions through blue screens – they were trying to stop it, but whoever was talking to them was only able to move it around. Somehow.”
“Yeah. I learnt that, too, eventually,” Letty said. “Most people were pretty heavily against Apothel from the outset. It’s a known fact that any human working underground with the Ministry of Environmental Energy’s permission is bad for us. And every human underground has to have the Ministry’s permission, official or not. The Ministry guard that place like a shrine, and they hate all we stand for. When Val took charge, the FTC had been moved like three times in four years on account of them hunting us. Part of her mandate was keeping that from happening again. Whatever she was up to, developing new tech, sending out scouts, whatever – it worked – the MEE didn’t come close to us again. But whatever Apothel was up to, the feeling was that the Ministry benefited, so his people needed to be stopped. My team were sent to do it, and we started with Barton, him being the muscle of the group. Organised a little accident with his kid to scare him out of the game.”
“You what?” Pax’s jaw dropped open.
“It was nothing, just enough to shit him up. He backed off, and without him the others started to lose their bottle, too. Apothel, though, you weren’t scaring that guy off, he was too crazy to worry about his own safety. I came up with the idea of drawing him away; tell him fairies exist and we’ve got a pot of gold waiting in some far-off country. He seemed the sort to buy it – he was a goofy fucker, acted like everything was a big game – a burly animal with a thick beard like birds could nest in. You saw him in the street, you’d peg him for a circus strongman who’d let himself go. The pair of them, him and his son, first got on our radar when they did over a mansion we were casing, on Friedrich Boulevard, so I knew he had a bit of Fae sentiment in him.”
“Wait,” Pax said. “A mansion you were casing? A human one? Why?”
Letty stared at Pax as though the answer was obvious. “Anyway. I couldn’t help myself, I got curious about this guy. We talked. Drank, too. He tells me how he got started in the Sunken City, after stumbling across this juice that made him see things. He’d found it after burgling some corrupt local governor. Apothel being the sort who’d huff glue, he downed the lot.”
“That was glo?”
“Sure, whatever. High as a crow, he started seeing the myriad creatures. He ventured into the Sunken City, found himself a continuing supply. He’d started producing this manual” – Letty nodded to the book – “full of wacky names he’d come up with for creatures we barely knew about. I’d never spoken to anyone who’d been down there, see, and he was eager to share. Then he tells me all about this Blue Angel of his and I realise that all this time Apothel’s been thinking he’s fighting the monsters. That he’s on our side. So I come clean with him – I tell him whatever he’s doing, it’s not working, but if he lays off for a while we can put the Dispenser to use.
“It takes a bit of persuading. He was the opposite of patient, but I got him to calm down while I ran it by Val. Her and her council, they were angry that I’d got familiar with him, but mostly said it was pointless talking to him if we still didn’t know how to use the Dispenser. It was too soon, even if we wanted to take that kind of step. Except then it was too late. You know the rest. I didn’t kill Apothel, but I got him killed, right? All I needed to do was persuade him to leave town. Instead I got him to stay. Gave him the stupid idea to cross the Fae.”
“It’s not that simple, though, is it?” Pax said. She moved forwards onto her knees, to get closer, and Letty scrambled back quickly, raising her fists. Pax froze. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to –”
“Yeah, didn’t mean to,” Letty hissed. “Story of humans’ fucking lives, isn’t it?”
“But listen for a second. Apothel followed instructions from an unknown stranger for years, thinking fighting that minotaur was what was best for the city – why didn’t he stick to your plan?”
“Because he was an idiot.”
“He must’ve somehow got the idea that he needed to take things into his own hands with the Dispenser. And it sounds like he was partway right – your people weren’t ready to work with him.”
“He didn’t know that.”
“He knew something, though, didn’t he?”
“Apothel was nuts! You don’t get into a vocation of hunting monsters while high on hallucinogenics without being a few bullets short of a full clip. He got his own ideas, he got dead.”
“The details are important,” Pax insisted. “He died and Rufaizu escaped – and in the time since, nothing’s been done to cure the city of what’s down there. You’re not seeing what I’m seeing?”
Letty stared, refusing to play along.
“Is there any chance that your people didn’t intend to use that weapon? And Apothel somehow knew that when he stole it?”
The fairy laughed, nastily, and paced aside. She threw a hand in the air, raising her voice. “Oh, that’s rich! Real fucking rich! You have no idea!” She pointed a stern finger. “You, who the hell are you anyway? Fancy yourself smart, sticking your friendless nose in damn books, talking your way round things? You’re thick as the rest of them – you have no idea.”
“I can see the way things add up – and the only –”
“I hunted for that device for nine years!” Letty snapped. “I was cast out – and my boys with me, with the whole FTC spitting on everything I’d done! If you could’ve seen the hate I’ve seen – the attitude from the Fae – didn’t intend to use it? Even if Val said I could come back, I wouldn’t, not with what my
whole society think of me – not until I make it right. It’s on me, you don’t get that? It’s all on me.”
“Well, it’s sprayed me too, now,” Pax said, keeping cool. “And for what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. Even if it didn’t work out. What I’m trying to say is –”
“You’re trying to say shit,” Letty said. “Apothel’s dead and that weapon’s laid dormant when it might’ve been used a decade ago. The Fae’s home might have been reclaimed if I’d stayed the hell out of it all.”
“I’m saying,” Pax said, more firmly, “it’s not your fault.”
“Well, you’re wrong. How’d you think Rufaizu feels now, after he came back to me? And now we’ve had a chat, you think you’ll even survive the day? You’re gonna learn, don’t you worry – it doesn’t pay to be my mate.”
Pax didn’t respond for a moment. She said, “You can have your Dispenser, and I can help you get that fuel – we can get people outside the Ministry onto Rufaizu’s case. But it all starts with deciding who we can trust, doesn’t it?”
“There’s no we, all right? This” – Letty held up the cap of rum – “gets you a little closer to not being dead, but it doesn’t make us friends. All we are going to do is find my boys, hopefully before they do something catastrophic.”
Pax placed her empty bottle down. She said, carefully, “Thanks, anyway. I’m glad you talked to me, even if you’ve got a habit of getting people killed.”
Letty went quiet, staring like she was trying to figure Pax out. The usual look. Pax smiled at her, then pushed herself up off the bed with such force that the mattress bounced and Letty was knocked off her feet. As the fairy threw insults, Pax went towards the washroom, holding up her middle finger.
2
Come to Galley Road station now or she hurts.
That was all the confirmation Barton needed that the Fae were behind Grace’s disappearance. He knew enough about them to know they couldn’t explore that nest themselves. It wasn’t where they had taken Grace – there was something there they wanted, which they needed him to get.
Galley Road connected the heart of Ordshaw with the docks, but the Underground station of the same name sat in cold neglect halfway along it, a long way from anything useful. The station was notable for having four platforms serving a single train line, the spares allegedly built to serve a line that was never completed. The empty platforms were sealed behind temporary metal walls that had sat chained and bolted for over thirty years. People had heard and seen things moving in the shadows behind the barriers, and Galley Road station frequently made lists of Ordshaw’s most haunted places.
Darren Barton and Apothel had known better. Galley Road station was actually near a nest of glogockles. They lurked close to the abandoned platforms, drawn to the lights, and sniffed around the edges of the barriers looking for a way in. They retreated at the sound of people, though. The superstitious station workers avoided the area, but Barton and Apothel had seen a dozen of the sickly creatures lurking there.
Barton drove there alone, with the sun still rising. Whoever had left the second note had to be nearby, but he knew better than to waste time looking for them.
He hated doing as he was told. He hated that he had a cylinder of glo in his hands again, tempting him towards the bitter unreality of its influence. He hated that the Blue Angel had led him to it, instead of helping him. The only positive he’d had was that in her nervous exhaustion Holly had fallen asleep shortly before the second note had been delivered. She would wake up and find him gone, and she would know why, but she would not be able to follow. By the time he got home, he’d either have saved Grace or had something truly terrible happen, and whatever that meant to Holly now was a very minor concern.
The hate helped. Barton knew that when he reached Galley Road, whatever else was going on, he’d have a few glogockles to use his hate on.
Barton stopped at the corner as he walked the final distance to the station. It hadn’t changed in fifty years, an arch of concrete with basic, faded lettering chipped into the header. The metal shutters obscured half the entrance, where they got stuck on opening. Barton walked in, down the steps into the green glow of the station’s belly. A few men in shirts were hovering around, waiting for what must have been the first train of the day. They were yawning and stretching, barely keeping their eyes open. On a Sunday morning, they must have been going to church or coming home from a bad night. It had to be a bad night if it had ended anywhere near here.
Barton passed them, went into the dividing corridor and made his way to the dead end of two of the metal walls, ready to punch something. The makeshift door in the barrier, a smaller bit of metal that had been hung on hinges, had its chains hanging loose. There was a padlock on the floor. Someone had come here before him. He pushed the door aside, creating an opening big enough to get through. Beyond the metal, there were no lights, only a dark cavern. There was a piece of paper hanging on the door. He took it off and found the same abrasive writing that had been on the previous notes.
Bring us the electric weed and you get her back.
Barton frowned. He looked into the darkness. They’d come down here, and the place wasn’t crawling with monsters, so the station itself must’ve been safe from the minotaur. The little bastards must still be hanging around to watch him.
“Face me like a man,” he growled. “I’m not doing shit until I know she’s safe.”
There was no answer. He looked around: no movement in the tunnel behind him and nothing in the darkness ahead.
“Forget it.” He turned away. He was halfway back to the other platform when a whistle caught his attention. He turned back but there was still no one there.
“Up here, numbnuts,” a sharp voice said, and he looked to the ceiling. Near the metal barrier, a tiny figure sat on the edge of a luminescent light. The rifle in his hands targeted Barton. The man, in the white shirt and suspenders of an ’80s financier, had one eye fixed to his scope, hands not moving as he said, “Need me to explain what happens now?”
“Where is she?” Barton snarled.
“Safely waiting for daddy to do as he’s told.”
“If you’ve touched her –”
“Get to work. Or you join Apothel, and your sweet little daughter takes your place.”
Barton fought the urge to charge at the fairy. He’d never clear the distance, and probably couldn’t reach the light anyway, but he wanted to hurt him, bad. The sniper told him, “I know, I know. Now be a good boy.”
All he could do to show his discontent was to walk by very slowly, glaring at the little man all the while. The thing was wearing a tie, even. What kind of fairy was it? Barton stopped at the entrance to the platform, then went in. It was colder on the other side, as though the darkness had sucked the heat away.
“What am I looking for?” he called back through the door.
“Electric weed. You’ll know when you see it,” the tiny man said.
Barton resisted the urge to make more idle threats. He’d learnt long ago to save his energy for when it was needed. He walked over the empty platform until his feet touched the rippled edge. He took out his phone and lit it up. The unevenness of the floor was apparent in the pit ahead, but there were no tracks. This part of the station wasn’t even half-finished.
He climbed down and checked in either direction, then started walking. The tunnel to his sides and above was too vast for his torchlight to reach its edges. The sounds of his footfalls rolled back towards him. A sound ahead told him he was close. A stone knocked loose or a claw scratching the ground, indicating one of the myriad creatures lurking in the shadows. He slowed down, searching for all the precious little detail he could make out.
Another scuffle, like a fox picking through junk, and his eyes fixed on its location. He shone the torch at it and the creature shied away – slightly. It crouched into the shadow, then rose out of it, pincer-jaws snapping in his direction. Though it was a foot shorter than him, it was still a big o
ne, its rocky flesh lighting up as the veins that ran through it glowed peculiar green. Its gangly arms flopped to the sides then drew in, tensing, the claws clicking together. An extra appendage sprang forward over its left shoulder like a scorpion’s tail.
Barton stared it down, unafraid.
“Come on you bastard,” he said, putting his phone away.
It thumped a flat stump of a foot towards him. Then the other one. Each step sent vibrations through the room to help it sense where he was. Its edges lit up enough to create a pool of light around it, giving Barton all the visibility he needed. He raised his fists defensively, preparing for its charge.
The glogockle clicked like an oversized beetle, gnashed its mandibles, then ran at him. It was an ungainly creature, listing from side to side as it moved, but its power was unmistakable, a wall bearing down upon him. Barton let it approach, not moving until the last second. It swung both clawed arms towards him in a windmill arc. He ducked, the grab going over his head, and he jabbed the thing’s gut. Its flesh cracked and erupted around his punch, green light spilling out of it as the glogockle howled. Not finished, it slashed its claws at him. Barton lunged aside and threw a flurry of punches into its side, finishing with a punch to where its kidneys would be, if it had any. The glogockle could not turn quickly enough, the strength of the punches and the force of its own momentum making it trip over itself and roll into the wall. It crashed to a stop, twitching, a pool of luminescent blood spilling out around its legs.
Barton stood over it, shaking his hands off at his sides, breathing deeply.
Not quite fit enough for this.
A series of clucks chattered behind him.
He turned and saw the rest of them, thumping into the tunnel, claws pinching and jaws clicking. The flank of glogockles shunted into each other as they formed a mob of brightly lit monsters. To the left, where the first one had been sniffing around, he saw what the fairies were after. A patch of moss with a neon blue light sparking around its tips.
The Sunken City Trilogy Page 18
