“Should I let go?”
“Yes you should fucking let go.”
Pax released Letty. The fairy shot out of her grip, and Pax winced, fearing a reprisal. Letty hung in the air below the hole, glaring up like she was about to explode. Pax waited, holding her gaze with what she hoped was blameless innocence. The fairy huffed and gave the hall another look. She pointed a finger back up. “You’re gonna regret this.” But she dropped into the dark.
Pax crouched to watch Letty fly. “Further that way.”
A tiny light came out ahead of Letty, some kind of torch. From a phone? It lit up an impressive circle of wall, a few feet wide. Letty hovered up and down, searching.
“Probably seeing things, weren’t you?” Letty said.
She kept moving and the letters came into view. A single word, as Pax had thought. Angular Latin script, not Apothel’s coded symbols. A name? Letty hovered in front of it and said, “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t recognise it?” Pax called out. She squinted to read it herself, but the shadows were deep and long. Gruswlock?
“Fuck this,” Letty snapped. Her light went out, pocketed, and she sped back up to the hole. As she cleared it, she drew her pistol.
Pax held up her hands and affected her most disarming smile. Seldom before had she seen such fury as in that tiny face, though, and Pax accepted it had been another terrible idea. Letty swept in close, tensing like she wasn’t sure herself what to do. As Pax backed off, the fairy pulled up level with her eye, drew the pistol back and cracked it into Pax’s brow. Pax winced to the side as the blow lanced like a paper cut.
“Shit!” Pax put a hand it. “You little shit!”
“Don’t!” Letty snarled, gun aimed at her eye. “Don’t test me, fucker.”
“Alright!” Pax raised her hands again. “Okay. I deserved that.”
Letty hissed. “You’re lucky you’ve still got a hand, grabbing me like that.”
“Okay,” Pax said. She felt blood trickle into her eyebrow. Pistol-whipped by a fairy.
“Worth it for one of Apothel’s dumb fucking words?” Letty said. “Grugulochs is what it said. Insane rambling shit.”
“Grugulochs,” Pax said. She hadn’t come across it in the time she’d spent going through Apothel’s book. But if he’d erased everything else in the chapel and left one word, it had to mean something. Her gut had been right.
A nearby car engine broke her concentration. Letty went quiet, listening too. The car slowed as it got closer. Then stopped. Right outside.
The doors opened.
“A homeless guy hid out here once,” a man’s voice said. Deep, slow and familiar. “It’s been quiet for a long time.”
“A homeless man?” A woman. “Anyone in particular?”
“Yeah,” he said. Definitely familiar; the big guy in the cheap suit, the one whose car they’d stolen, who’d wanted to take them in. The one Casaria had knocked down. Apparently he wasn’t being helpful, not explaining this was Apothel’s place. “I’ll start the scans.”
Letty drifted near Pax’s ear and whispered, “Happy now?”
“Clear of UE-r, checking for FT.”
Something beeped below. The newcomers said nothing. It beeped again.
“Meaning...” the woman, said, carefully.
“Shit,” Letty hissed, recognising the sound.
“It’s the faeometer,” the man said, like a bomb disposal expert realising he had seconds to live. The woman cleared her throat, calculating how to react.
“You have a...there’s a key to this door?”
“Yes, hold on.” Fumbling movements below. The beeping continued, steady. “It’s not moving. Probably inside.”
“Are you armed?”
A pause. “In the car.”
Their footsteps, and the beeping, moved away. Pax held Letty’s eyes.
“They can’t keep up with me, even with this shitty wing,” Letty said. “I’ll lead them away and send help. Find you later.”
“Send help? No –” Pax started to complain, but the fairy shot up into the air. Letty flew higher and higher, nothing but a speck against the sky. The faeometer beeped slower. Then created a different sound. A drawn-out warning tone.
“It’s moving,” the man called out. “That way.”
“Follow it!” the woman said.
“Okay.” The man was less urgent. “Take this.”
There were scrambling footsteps, a jingling of keys, then the car doors slammed shut. The engine started and the wheels screeched as the car pulled away. Pax waited, not daring to breathe. The street fell deathly still.
She slid over the tiles, hoping the far corner of the roof would be low enough to drop down to the street without her needing to climb over any more walls. Twisting awkwardly around, she poked her head out.
The woman was still there, a large ring of keys held in one hand. She was sharply dressed in a pantsuit, with a short bob of precision-cut hair around her mousy face and a mole high on her left cheek. Their eyes met before Pax could back off.
Pax said, “Would you believe...this has nothing to do with me?”
12
“You’re Pax Kuranes?”
Neither woman blinked. The newcomer looked as startled and uncertain as Pax; they hadn’t come looking for her, this agent wasn’t prepared.
“Ms Kuranes, I’m sorry you got involved in this – I know Cano Casaria. I’ve been there myself. Whatever’s going on – wherever he is – I want to help –”
“Thanks.” Pax sat up onto her haunches. “But I’ve got plans.”
“Wait!” The woman put a hand up. “Please. I’m Sam Ward, did he mention me? I run our InterSpecies Relations Initiative. We manage Sunken City communications.”
Pax was fairly sure Casaria hadn’t said anything about this woman or any Ministry work involving diplomacy. She said, “You sound like a business report.”
Ward stared searchingly, clearly trying to figure out a way to connect. Pax waited for the attempt. The Ministry can protect you? The Ministry are your friends? I like your coat? Ward said, “Casaria is a very particular person, I know what he’s like. He scared me, too.”
Ah. The scared woman angle. Pax said, “Good for you, bye.”
She moved back in a crouch as Ward protested. Best just to leave, don’t let them try mind tricks or play for time. She moved a few paces across the roof. There was a sharp crack. Tiles and wooden supports snapped beneath her, the floor suddenly gone. Pax yelped as she dropped into the darkness.
She was airborne for a second before landing, hard, debris scattering around her. Pax rolled to the side, wheezing; she’d flopped onto her back but taken some of the fall on her legs and one arm, the wind knocked out of her.
Behind her, there was a bang on the door. Ward shouted, “Ms Kuranes! Are you okay?”
Pax sat up, rubbing her back. It ached like she’d been hit with a hammer. Bits of the roof were still settling around her in a gentle rain of splinters. She shook them off, as Ward pounded harder.
“Please talk to me!”
Pax rose unsteadily, and the pain hit her again. In her chest, it throbbed, and she gasped – this wasn’t from the fall. It was as if the jolt had revived that waking feeling of uneasiness, but worse. She took deep breaths until it subsided, leaving her to look, more closely, at the sinisterly carved walls. Ward was trying the keys, cursing. She rattled the door. No good. Pax took a step away from the entrance, towards the back wall, and another pain shot through her thigh.
“I’m your best hope!” Ward pleaded, pausing her attempts to find the right key. “When the others get here, they won’t listen – they’ll just lock you away, at best.”
Good to know good cop/bad cop was still alive and well, Pax told herself. Even with only one cop present. She limped to the rear door, through to a short corridor, two doors, one open on a sink. Pax went for the other one.
“No one called me on Friday!” Ward shouted. “I can creat
e a bridge between us and the Fae – they don’t want me to!”
Pax gave that a moment’s attention. Her instincts told her that Sam Ward was a rather sad and lonely individual. Perhaps genuinely sympathetic. Or perhaps saying anything to trap her. The key-jangling resumed frantically. Pax continued into the dark. She took out Rimes’ phone and lit the area with its screen. There was a panel in the floor with a metal ring. Down on her knees, Pax ran her hands over the trapdoor, testing the ridged gap. She pulled and the trapdoor shifted slightly. She tugged again and it popped up, another waft of dust making her cough.
Ward had gone quiet, her keys still. The shouting piped up again. “Ms Kuranes, are you hurt?”
Ignoring her, Pax heaved the trapdoor fully open and shone the light down a set of wooden steps. It meant going underground again, not a day after last time. She took a breath. It was this or get locked up by the government. At best.
Pax swivelled round and probed the steps with her feet, then shimmied down on her backside. She pulled the trapdoor down after her as she descended. Such a bad idea, stupid as hell. The stairs led into a narrow room, barely high enough to stand in. She scanned the phone from side to side, revealing a couple of wooden beams and four bare brick walls. A few metres of space. Nothing else.
What was worse than stumbling back into the Sunken City, Pax realised, was stumbling into a dead end, when all that woman above needed to do was find the right key. She gritted her teeth, listening for Ward. The agent had stopped pleading, which meant she was focusing more determinedly on getting in.
Pax scanned the walls again and realised her fingers were tingling hard. Her chest was heating up. There was no way this room was connected to the Sunken City, or anything else, but she had a strange sensation that it wasn’t just a cellar. There was something nearby. Behind her...
Pax turned, eyes widening. It wasn’t there before. It couldn’t have been, she’d have seen its light. A foot-wide square on the brickwork, bathed in a soft blue glow.
Pax’s mouth dropped open as she moved towards it. This was where Apothel’s secrets lay – she knew it – Letty could apologise later. But she didn’t like the irrational way she knew it. The blue screen was connected to the thing that had tried to drain her. These ominous panels had sucked energy through the underground chamber as she’d writhed in pain on the floor. Were the weird feelings of the morning real? A connection on some level?
Pax raised a tentative hand, drawn mindlessly towards the blue patch.
When she touched it, the screen moved, and she jumped back with a gasp. It had vibrated, she was sure. Up and down, maybe just an inch, but definitely a response to her touch. It was still again. But the brickwork under it shifted. There was a sound like nails on a chalkboard as a deep scratch appeared. It grew, a line scraping down. Then up, at an angle. Slowly spelling out a letter. A childish scrawl, angular and lopsided.
Who?
It was communicating with her. Apothel’s Blue Angel. And, in that instant, it didn’t know it was communicating with her.
The brickwork shifted again. The lines closed up, the old brick reforming like it had been unchanged for decades. Just like Barton had described. You needed to scratch into the blue screen yourself to communicate. Another message formed as Pax watched.
Everyone gone
Was it a trick? Holly Barton said they had encountered a screen, so the Blue Angel must’ve known Barton was still around. Though it might not have realised he survived the night, after the various problems they’d all run into.
There was one other person the Angel might believe was out there, though, who it might be willing to do business with. Pax took out the scooter’s key and lifted it to the blue screen as the second message faded into nothing. Her hand shook as she scratched into the bricks. A messy line, followed by another.
Rufa...
Before she could finish, her letters disappeared. The response formed.
Taken
So it knew something of current affairs. But it couldn’t be the Ministry themselves, could it? It would’ve known Barton wasn’t gone. She took a chance, quickly scratching in her answer.
Escaped
Her letters faded, leaving the brick blank again. What could she ask to trap this Angel? To figure out who or at least where it was?
A noise came above, a metallic rattle, followed by a curse. Another failed attempt from Ward. The bricks shifted.
Why here?
The words faded, and Pax sucked her lower lip. Only one way to get the Angel talking, most likely. Play the same game they’d always played. She scratched in:
Help?
The words faded. Come on. Give me something.
Ward shouted above. Back to trying to reason with her.
The Blue Angel’s response formed slowly as Pax watched:
Chaucer Crescent
Pax frowned. Directory enquiries, like Barton had said. It was offering her glo? What did it expect Rufaizu to do with that? She quickly scratched a response:
Why?
Her word disappeared but no answer came. Something squeaked, loudly, above, and Ward’s voice came through again. Closer. She’d got in. Her footsteps thunked through the hall.
Pax took a step back, eyes on the ceiling. If she waited for the right moment – if Ward went into the other room before checking here – she might slip past. She moved to the steps and paused, noticing new words had appeared in the blue screen.
Not him
She stared at the fading words. It took a moment to appreciate the weight of the message. The blue screen vibrated. Whoever it was had figured her out. Before she’d scarcely processed that, her vision suddenly blurred, a hot pain flaring in her chest. A jolt shot through her and she gagged. Her vision went white before blazing with a waking dream of rapid images. Tunnels, brick walls, metal rails – sparks of lightning – she closed her eyes fearfully, almost falling to a knee. Was it the screen itself? Sending out some psychic attack?
She took a step back and her hand found the stairs, supporting herself from falling. The images kept flashing behind her eyelids – jumping shadows, splitting metal. They faded as quickly as they came, but she understood them. Something had happened – she was seeing it happen. Or feeling it, at least. She even knew where. Not exactly, but the direction. Across the city. Somewhere south?
Ward’s voice came desperately above, closer. “Where are you?”
Pax tried to focus on it, blinking heavily. The pain diffused as she refocused on the cellar’s shadows. The faint blue glowing square on the wall. It was responsible somehow, it had done this to her – the timing wasn’t a coincidence. As she stared, the feeling subsiding, the screen made a noise. A hiss, like a valve opening.
Her eyes opened wider, and her heart pounded – this time from simple fear. Something was coming out of the screen. A dark shape, rolling over itself. Oozing like an oily custard, with a rotten egg stink.
She backed further around the steps.
The glutinous mass twisted in the shadows, pivoting from where it was attached to the wall, rearing its slimy front up like a worm testing the air.
Pax dived up the stairs, slamming her head and shoulders into the trapdoor. It flew up and bounced back, catching her on the head again, and she slipped on the steps. As she glanced back into the gloom, the phone light caught the top edge of the sluglike creature, on the floor now. Sliding towards her.
13
Sam tensed as Pax Kuranes shot out of the dark in a cursing panic, running from something. The woman skidded to a halt, clocking the open door and Sam before it.
“Wait!” Sam shouted, as Pax bolted. Sam was nearer, quicker, and threw a hand ahead. As Pax reached the doorway, the steel bulkhead slammed shut. She smacked into it and grappled with the handle as Sam jammed the key in. Pax’s fingers clawed at her as she turned the key, but the lock clunked into place. Snatching the keys back, ducking away from Pax’s grabbing hands, Sam took quick steps back. Now to take charge –
; “You lunatic!” Pax shouted. “Open the fucking door!”
Sam held up Landon’s fistful of keys like a weapon. “Ms Kuranes, you need to –”
“You’re locking us in with it!” Pax pointed sharply, baring her teeth. “Open the door.”
Sam looked from the shadows back to Pax. The woman was a poker player, an actor, of sorts. “I can’t let you leave. You need to answer some questions.”
“Questions?” Pax threw the word back at her. “There’s –”
Something squeaked and both women froze. Pax’s eyes found the rear door, and Sam followed the glance. There was nothing there. MEE-cordoned properties were cleared out, sealed off. No matter what had been here before, this place had to be empty. The squeak came again, with a light bang, a door rattling on its hinges. Low, at ground level.
“There’s no...” Sam started, but couldn’t say it out loud. An entrance to the Sunken City? Something coming up? That wasn’t possible. But Pax was here for a reason.
“Give me the keys,” Pax said, pressed against the door, hand outstretched.
“What is it?”
The door beyond moved again, pushed up and bounced back down.
“Give me the fucking keys!” Pax shouted.
“Tell me what you’re doing here!” Sam spun on her. “Do you have any idea the trouble you’ve caused?”
Pax’s face expressed a primal rage at the mere suggestion of answering questions. Sam didn’t falter. This woman would explain.
The trapdoor squeaked again, and this time didn’t bang back down. It landed on something soft. Whatever was underneath was finally pushing out. The floor groaned as something slid heavily over it.
“Look,” Pax said, urgently, “there’s a blue screen, in the cellar – it released something –”
“Blue screen?” Sam said. The phrase fired up a memory; something from old Sunken City lore, to do with Apothel. He’d made claims about blue screens, hadn’t he? He wrote on walls, with no evidence of anything writing back. One of the many reasons the MEE brushed him off as mad. But there was definitely something moving. Coming closer.
The Sunken City Trilogy Page 40
