16
Rolarn lit a torch as Pax followed him into the cleared-out shop, nothing but occasional pillars interrupting its dark expanse. The floor was thick with dust. A card display lay on its side, the light revealing a smiling woman pointing at something. A frying pan?
“That way.” Far across the empty floor was a motionless escalator.
“You know,” Pax said, “there’s people in New Thornton who pay a grand a month for a shoebox to live in? And here you’ve got this massive waste of space.”
“This place thrived, once.”
No doubt, if the Fae were here. It would be an even greater expanse for them. “What did your people do here?”
Rolarn didn’t answer, as a small shape fluttered out of the escalator opening. This one had a slender body and an overlarge head.
“This is her?” the newcomer shouted. A female voice, with a smoker’s huskiness.
“This is her,” Rolarn said.
“Down here, then,” the fairy said, then flew back the way she’d come.
Pax followed the tilt of Rolarn’s gun to the top of the metal steps, where he aimed his torch down. Was she about to see one of the hidden marvels of the world, a civilisation of miniature people hiding in the wing of a shopping centre?
Making her way down the steps, she found the next floor as drab and empty as the one before, with the exception of a counter along a far wall. The female was there, by an electric camping lantern that lit a grey hunk of plastic that must have been one of the earliest digital cash registers. Another fairy stood by the register. A light shone out from behind the counter, towards floor-level. Their camp, apparently.
The fairy by the register was lanky, square-shouldered but thin like a stick-insect. He was tall for their kind, pushing three inches, and wore a tatty bomber jacket, the sleeves rolled up. The woman sat on the edge of the cash register, one leg hanging and a knee up. She had well-fitted flared white trousers and a wide-collared white jacket, with two pistol holsters hanging over her chest and one around one leg, all piped with silver. Her head wasn’t overlarge, after all; she had a great body of auburn hair, swept into a blow-dried mane. A picture of disco fashion done right. With added firepower.
There was tension in the way they all looked at Pax, and she wanted to break the silence. She addressed Rolarn: “I’m guessing she’s the leader, on style alone.”
No one responded.
“Looks like regular human scum to me,” the tall one said, predictably gruff.
“As opposed to the special kind?”
The Disco Killer said, more erudite despite her huskiness, “You’re the oaf that recovered the Dispenser?”
“Wow. I’ve been called some nasty things in my time – oaf takes it.”
“What do you think, Arnold?” The woman dipped a hand into her jacket, deliberating, and drew out a miniature hip flask. “Am I seriously gonna talk to a human?”
The tall one, Arnold, grumbled wordless dissent. They weren’t off to a good start; even if Rolarn had saved her, they didn’t seem too happy to see her. Pax said, “I’m told I’m easy to talk to. Just don’t ask Leonard Holland. He’s been bitter since I bluffed him out of a massive seven-card-stud pot. Makes it easy to keep beating him, if I’m honest.”
“What’s she talking about?” the woman asked.
“Playing cards,” Rolarn said.
“Why is she talking about cards?”
“I tell you a bit about me,” Pax said. “You tell me about you. You get comfortable enough to explain why we’re gathered in an abandoned Debenhams.”
The Fae all continued to stare.
“She’s got a mouth,” Rolarn concluded, “but she’s co-operated so far.”
“Thanks,” Pax said. “So you people want to tell me who you are?”
The male Fae both looked to the Disco Killer, who took a long pull on her flask then put it back in its pocket. She stood and patted down her immaculate clothing, her body swaying at the hips with the fluidity of inebriation. If she was drunk, it didn’t show in her voice. “She calls us people, that’s a start.” She pointed at the tall one. “He’s Arnold. Chief of the Tupsom Trawlers, who you’re probably familiar with. I’m Lightgate.”
“Scourge of the Grit Plateau,” Arnold added.
Pax stopped herself from questioning either fairy’s ambiguous title. She indicated Rolarn. “And him?”
“He,” Lightgate said, “is the owner of this fine home.”
“Wonderful,” Pax said. “So where’s Letty?”
“You tell me,” Lightgate said. “Aren’t you like that?” She crossed her fingers. Her tone suggested she didn’t entirely approve.
“We’ve found humans and fairies can get along, I guess.”
Arnold tensed and Lightgate said, “Fairies, now. Not so civilised after all.”
“The F-word’s taboo?” Pax replied with surprise. Letty hadn’t shown special exception to fairy, had she? But then, Letty showed exception to everything.
“How would you know,” Lightgate sighed. “Human ignorance is immortal. But I figured it was worth a talk with you. First time for everything.”
“I’ve talked before.”
A hint of a smile teased Lightgate’s mouth. Finally ready to engage. “Okay. Let’s start with the Dispenser, then. A lot of Fae don’t even believe it exists. How’d you get it?”
It sounded like an accusation. “I didn’t. I came across the guy who did. The MEE captured him. And they have your Dispenser, now. My turn? What’s it to you?”
Lightgate held her gaze for a lingering moment. She shrugged, at last, with one shoulder going nearly to her cheek. “You know what it means to our people?”
“The opportunity to take back your home.”
“That,” Lightgate nodded, “and it’d piss off the Ordshaw MEE. You dislike them, don’t you?”
“Your man just used a shotgun to get me free of them.”
“Did you hurt anyone?” Lightgate turned this to Rolarn. He shook his head. “Why not?”
Rolarn held her gaze uncertainly, a chink in his armour as the question confused him.
“Never mind. Next time. Let me set the scene, human.”
“Pax,” Pax corrected.
The fairy echoed her in a mocking tone. “Pax. Ten years ago, most Fae were focused on taking back the Sunken City. Not just for a place to live, but a place to fight from. Then this humourless mare Valoria Magnus came in, preaching peace. Fae killed each other on her command. The worst of us were driven away, or faced death at the hands of her Stabilisers. Some peace, right?” Lightgate paused to let out a loud yawn, then shook her head as though trying to stay awake. She continued. “Friday night, I’m running diamonds in Hungary and I hear the FTC back in Ordshaw finally has serious human concerns again. There’s a story about an MEE lummox doing something unspeakable to a Fae. Letty, no less; someone most Fae know about. For negative reasons. You’re following me?”
Friday was when this had all begun for Pax, and she doubted there were many other women who’d had encounters with fairies that night. The unspeakable act had to be her pretending to eat Letty, to trick Cano Casaria. “How’d this story reach your people? You –”
“Those dullards are not my people,” Lightgate cut in. “I was in Eger.”
“Hungary? Smuggling diamonds?”
“It’s good work,” Lightgate confided. “But low-key. No setting anything off with a bang.” She went quiet, reflecting on that, before finding her place again. “There was a sensationalist article on the internet, that’s what reached me. The Fae remembering that the MEE are, and always have been, our enemies. At that point, I thought I might be forgiven for hurting you.”
“Until,” Pax ventured warily, “something told you I didn’t do what they said I did?”
“Lucky for you.” Lightgate gave an unconvincing smile. “Now, while I was travelling, the FTC was panicking, like old times. There was talk of relocating, in case your attack was just the start. Q
uite a response, right? The soft FTC, determined to sit on their arses indulging in” – Lightgate let out a fake yawn this time – “peace. After years of Val’s drivel, they forgot we came from somewhere better. They forgot there was a time when we fought humans, instead of negotiating or running.
“But talk of a human eating a fairy –” Lightgate paused, something rising in her throat. She held up a hand for patience, the other hand over her mouth. Pax frowned, not sure if she was performing some sort of imitation, but the fairy swallowed and shuddered like a ghost ran through her. No, it was a drunken tremor or something. Lightgate continued like it hadn’t happened, but took her hip flask back out. “Some people in the FTC had a wake-up call, at least. Started asking if it wasn’t better to stand and fight. Some started questioning Valoria.”
“Finally,” Rolarn said, a touch angry.
“Yes.” Lightgate pointed a finger back at him. “Fortunately, there’s still exiles alive who never trusted her. When I made it back to Ordshaw, I found these good, honest men” – Pax noted the miserable faces that looked neither good nor honest – “itching for a plan. Alongside voices in the FTC who weren’t happy, either. Things were looking very interesting. Until last night. Then, the Fae media say Letty is alive, shooting up human neighbourhoods after a deal gone bad.”
“She was known for doing bad deals with humans,” Arnold commented, as Pax imagined the Fae media. Tiny reporters in fedoras, punching at typewriters?
“But we’ve seen the results,” Lightgate said, “with a tremor underground, and the berserker behaving strange. Like someone hurt it. The Fae media say it wasn’t the Dispenser. They claim Letty lost a useless bit of Fae tech, not this fabled weapon of old.”
“It was the Dispenser,” Pax assured her. “I saw it.”
Lightgate took another swig from her flask. “Val’s persuaded everyone that the MEE aren’t out to get them, that this weekend’s fear was a big misunderstanding caused by Letty, up to her old tricks. An easier story to digest.” Lightgate paused, looking at Pax’s navel. “No pun intended.”
Pax covered her stomach defensively with her hands. “But the Ministry took your weapon. And hurt Letty. Get the Dispenser back and you can prove Val’s been lying.”
Lightgate took one more swig from her flask, then beat her wings and flew off the counter. Pax drew her head back as the fairy came level with her face. Lightgate hovered from side to side, studying her, before grinning, a sinister expression in the limited light. “I had a feeling about you. With Letty causing havoc, reports of a psycho human, I knew I had to meet you. Maybe you’re a human that could actually be useful, with ideas like that. That’s much better.”
“Why?” Pax frowned. “What was your idea?”
“Sigh…” Lightgate actually said the word. She exhaled loudly, making Pax’s nostrils curl at the whiff of ethanol, potent even at this woman’s size. “It required help from the FTC Council, but they’ve lost their bottle. There are weapons at their disposal, still, despite Val’s promises to disarm them years ago. This situation was the perfect opportunity to use the turnbold.”
“The what?” Pax vaguely recalled the name from Apothel’s catalogue of hideous beasts. It was not something she’d studied or, she felt, encountered.
“The – turn – bold,” Lightgate raised her voice, speaking slower, as though talking to an idiot. “Before Val took over, Fae scouts lured this beast under the Ministry offices, ready to take them down at their source.”
Pax stared dumbly back. “How? Fae can’t move under the city without drawing the minotaur’s horde to them, can they?”
Lightgate took another drink. “It cost a few brave lives. But it got forgotten because it was such a low-tech, basic idea. A simple bit of monster-baiting and some old-fashioned explosive charges under the building. The idea being to blow a passage through the floor, into their filthy offices, and this beast climbs up and decimates the Ministry.” She pulled the corners of her mouth down. “Ministry gets unhappy. Understand?”
Pax’s dumb stare hadn’t left her. It sounded like the sort of bluntly destructive plan she’d come to expect from the Fae.
“It was audacious.” Lightgate apparently read her thoughts. “But it went against the principle of fighting without being seen to be fighting. Ordshaw Fae always want to stay hidden. Even before Val took charge, it looked unlikely anyone would go through with it. When she started her peace talks it was totally dismissed. Except” – the fairy held up a triumphant finger – “while most of our weapons were dismantled, in this case, it would’ve cost Fae lives to remove the explosive charges. So they’re still there. Ten years later. And the Council still has the codes to set them off.”
Pax found herself shaking her head, “No – surely the Ministry –”
Lightgate pre-empted the question. “They don’t know about the charges. The MEE know the turnbold’s there, but not that we put it there. Having it settled under Greek Street is good for them. A turnbold can stay put for many years at a time, waiting for food to come to it, keeping the area quiet. But given what the Ministry’s been up to, with this woman eating a Fae and the Dispenser locked up in their offices, I thought some of the Council might finally be persuaded to use those charge codes. Only now Val’s worked her magic. Leaving” – Lightgate screwed a thumb back towards Arnold – “his boys to sneak back into the FTC and find those codes themselves. No small task.”
Whatever a turnbold was, this plan sounded like a great way to kill a lot of innocent people. Rufaizu included. Lightgate seemed like a relatively reasonable, intelligent fairy, so Pax chose to be honest with her: “It lacks finesse.”
“It’s a wrecking ball.” Arnold chose to answer this. “And when the Ministry retaliate, the FTC will see what Val’s peace is worth.”
Each word he said sounded angrier than the last. Lightgate grinned eerily at Pax, eager for her response. Clearly Pax had come at the right time to defuse this. “Do you guys still believe in the Sunken City? Settling back down there?”
“That comes with time,” Rolarn said.
“It’s something the FTC have forgotten,” Arnold grumbled. “They call themselves Fae, they’ve got no right.”
“Yeah,” Pax said carefully. “But convincing your people humans are dangerous, and removing Val, doesn’t get you the Sunken City back. Listen, I want rid of those monsters. I want the Ministry to back off. But random monster attacks are only going to make things worse. There’s people in that building with answers. And the Dispenser is in there, too. You want to hear my take?”
“Yeah,” Lightgate said. “I do.”
Pax took a breath, not sure what she was going to say but sure she had to come up with something. She couldn’t exactly promise them the Dispenser, but it went hand-in-hand with getting Rufaizu back from the Ministry. She was about to say so when Rimes’ phone chimed in her pocket, a high-pitched note that rose and fell before tinkling into something like a Japanese folk song.
Pax took out the phone as the fairies watched. The telegraph station’s number was on the screen. “Sorry – I’ve got to take this.”
“Pax?” Holly’s voice, anxious. “I couldn’t get through –”
“Can I call you back?” Pax said, not wanting to leave the Fae with any doubt about the madness of their plan. “I just need to –”
“You were right. How did you know?”
Pax’s stomach lifted in concern. “About what?”
“A train crash. Well. Technically two train crashes. Four dead and at least twenty injured. So far. It’s the same thing, isn’t it? That monster down there, it did this?”
Pax couldn’t speak, though she knew the answer. She’d experienced it, face-to-face with the blue screen. It had communicated it to her as it launched its assault. Possibly done it because of her?
Meeting Lightgate’s eyes, looking for someone, anyone, to share the horror with, Pax knew more than ever that she had to get a handle on this. Her own body was being affected, and sh
e was surrounded by war-mongering fairies. Whatever had happened, she had to cut through this bullshit.
17
Bristol Street station was barely visible through the thicket of smoke and the foggy lenses of Sam’s gas mask, the concrete pillars like sentinels in the torchlight. The volume of her filtered breathing partially blocked out the sounds of panic. When a shape shot out of the smoke, Sam jumped with a cry. Landon put a hand out, either to stop her or reassure her, as a fireman passed with a civilian draped over his shoulder.
As the rescuer faded back into the smoke, Sam watched Landon continuing, his hand on the pistol under his jacket. There was nothing down there, the preliminary scans had already shown that. The myriad creatures never crossed into the Underground stations; it was like there was something in the walls of the Sunken City that confined them to its corridors. But then, the Fae were supposed to leave people alone and the praelucente wasn’t supposed to cause earthquakes. Everyone in the Ministry knew that: as it moved across the city, it caused residual fatigue in the Underground and in the city above, while also inspiring certain positive results. That was all. Otherwise, it roamed under Ordshaw without impact. But Pax had called that analysis ignorant.
Something is using that energy, Pax had said. Moving it.
Did the praelucente hide a threat the Ministry didn’t understand? These surges suggested so, even if they had somehow been caused by Pax and her cohorts. Such a secret would make it a ticking bomb.
Passing into an open space, Landon waved a hand in an attempt to clear the smoke. It did nothing. Sam followed a trail of bloodstains with her torch. Cracked tiles. Shattered glass. Then the twisted, ghastly mess of the crumpled train. The shapes of a handful of firefighters moved around the wreckage.
Landon nudged Sam and pointed to the side. Down the platform, away from the action. He continued without looking back, and she forced herself to do the same. Glass crunched under her shoes. Probably shredding the soles of her flats, which were not suited to this. Like her.
At the end of the platform, the train carriage had risen off the track and wedged itself against the broken wall. Landon crouched and shone his torch through a gap.
The Sunken City Trilogy Page 43
