“You’re not going down there?” Sam asked, which came out as a plastic mumble.
Landon nodded, then lowered himself onto the floor and wriggled through the hole. Sam came to his side, looking back to the firefighters. Did none of them care that some suited fat man was scrambling under the unstable ruins of this disaster? Apparently not.
When she turned back, he was gone. Sam stared with concern. Should she follow? His hand shot back out and Sam jumped. The palm was flat. Telling her to stay put. She nodded, as if he could see it.
As he made his way into an abyss, Sam watched two figures exiting the train, the limp form of a body draped between them. Small, frail, head lolling. An old woman? Sam wanted to look away but couldn’t. They all evaporated into the smoke.
This was all wrong. None of the Ministry’s spreadsheets extolling the cost-benefit analysis of the praelucente factored in people dying. Not like this. Working in the office, Sam had distanced herself from the possibility that her organisation was shadily silencing serious security breaches, but assumed that meant dealing with opportunists who couldn’t be persuaded to keep quiet for the greater good. These were unassuming innocents.
Sam closed her eyes. Why did she come down here? She was right to keep her distance from all this. Objectively, the figures would still make sense. If someone had meddled with the brakes of these trains, it would be no different: you wouldn’t blame the trains for moving too fast, you’d still support the concept of the Underground. The Sunken City was no different. Casualties happened.
Something groaned in the middle distance and she opened her eyes again.
Another noise, a whisper behind the chaos.
Will you say it to me. Like it means something, like it can help make sense of this. Make it more than just an excuse to get out of the office. Grugulochs.
Whatever it was, the groan was rendered inaudible by the painful creak of metal being forcibly separated.
Their lights flashing over Letty’s face, the ambulances and fire trucks started to leave. The injured and the terrified had mostly been removed. That just left gawking bystanders, some police around the perimeter and a smattering of journalists. A bunch of Ministry shills deflected questions from all of them. Letty listened in on numbers of dead and injured, and accusations against the rail company, the station manager and the city council.
The berserker had sucked out everything some of these saps had, Letty could see it in the colour of their skin. Like faded denim. She heard a Ministry goon whisper, “That was no heart attack.”
The monster was preying, hard enough to wreck a train or two. Maybe it felt bitter about Pax getting away. Maybe she’d given it a taste for more direct feeding.
“It’s as I’d expect.” Landon’s voice. Letty watched from a building’s moulding as he strode out with the square lady. “Nothing crossed into the station, so the train must’ve been affected before arriving. My guess, the driver lost his senses.”
“You didn’t hear anything?” the woman asked.
“Not your area, is it? All this, I mean.”
The square turned on him, eyes level with his chest. “My area is wherever I’m needed. I want to know whatever sounds have been reported.”
Landon didn’t look impressed, probably aware that the only way she could threaten him was if she jumped and rammed her head into his chin. “Protocol is to limit discussion. Discourage any thoughts of what these people might’ve seen or heard.”
“You don’t think that might stop us from doing our job?”
“We’ve got rules for a reason.”
That aggravated the woman. “Yeah. So you don’t have to use any initiative.”
Landon paced up to her, a nerve touched, too. “You hang on a second. I do plenty for this city. For this country.”
She stared for an uncertain beat, then plucked up the courage to puff up her little chest and say, “I’m sure you do. You just don’t think for yourself.”
“You know, for all the stink you made about him, you sure sound like Casaria.”
Her face was aghast. “Exactly what do you mean by that?”
“You think it’s any wonder they keep your hands tied when you keep stirring the pot? You’d give the game away, have these people cementing ideas of what they’ve seen. To say nothing of what you’d do talking to the Fae, whatever.”
“What about doing a good job?” she said, voice getting loud and surprising herself. She lowered it again, overcompensating. “Opening more liberal communications channels with the Fae has always been the right move. Figuring out what these people saw and heard is the right move. Especially when it’s written on Apothel’s wall.”
Letty cocked her head. A clue?
Landon looked away to grumble something, the coward.
“What’s that?”
“You don’t know what you’re doing. You want to risk repeating this word all over the place. The last thing we need’s the media picking up on a pattern.”
“The pattern’s already here, with things erupting underground! I need to know what that word, or sound, means – what Pax wants and knows, what Casaria saw, why he’s missing – I need you to help me, Landon!”
“We ought to get back to the office –”
“Don’t! Take a moment, please.”
Landon bunched up his mouth like he’d just smelt shit.
“Think. This noise, this word, it could explain something about the praelucente itself, and that’d explain their plans, and this threat. Where do we go with that?”
“Back to the office,” Landon said. The woman was about to throw her knickers at him, but he held up a chunky hand. “You’re desperate to talk, try the kid.”
The lady stared at him, blank.
“Rufaizu.”
“He’s not talking, is he?”
“He spoke to Casaria, yesterday. Before everything got turned upside down.”
She looked stunned again. “Has anyone else spoken to him?”
Landon shrugged.
“I don’t know if I should be shocked or pleased. Thank you.” The woman lifted a hand to pat him encouragingly on the chest but didn’t quite make it, seeming to remember they weren’t that close.
Letty watched them climb in the car. She’d love to sit in on that conversation, but there was no way she was getting near the Ministry offices. And she had pretty well confirmed no one had caught up to Pax, not with this distraction and no better mention of her. Time to head back to Broadplain.
18
“Seven humans dead, now,” Lightgate reported, poring over her phone as she paced around near Pax’s feet. “Probably more by the time they’re done.”
Her back against a pillar, sat on the floor, Pax had the same thoughts looping in her own head. I’m connected to it. I can’t be connected to it. I’m sick. I’m tired. This has to stop. She looked at her hands hanging over her knees, not sure if she could trust her own flesh. Did it work the other way, could the minotaur sense where she was? Worst of all, did she cause this?
“Why,” Lightgate said, “are you so upset?” Pax frowned at her. The flamboyant drunk spread her arms in a questioning manner. “Excuse me, human? Are you unwell?”
“No,” Pax said. “I ran into your berserker last night, it’s...” She stalled. The Fae hated the creatures of the Sunken City. She couldn’t explain to them that she might have formed a bond with the biggest, baddest thing down there. “The Dispenser made the minotaur unstable. That makes this my fault. I can’t take a moment over that?”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Lightgate answered candidly. “I came back for a Fae-eating monster, or a human sticking it to the Ministry. Doing away with one of them, even. Yes.” She shook her head. “But this? Total lack of enthusiasm for the turnbold idea, legs going to jelly at the thought of humans dead? You’re a bit...” Lightgate searched for the best word. “Sad?”
Pax opened her mouth to rebut her but paused, realising what Lightgate had just said. “Doing away with on
e of them? What are you talking about?”
“You thought we didn’t know about Casaria? Tell me he’s dead, please, I’m starting to think we gave you too much credit.”
Pax shook her head, slowly, unable to blink. She’d last seen Cano Casaria watching her in angry confusion, face painted with blood, as they made a getaway in his colleague’s stolen car. Sam Ward had said he was missing; Pax had barely had a chance to consider his fate since then. She shifted forward, sliding a knee under her. “You know what happened to him?”
Lightgate looked to Arnold on the counter, who stayed quiet. When she turned back, she shared Pax’s confusion. “You got rid of him?”
“I haven’t done shit! Bloody hell, what else has your Fae media been saying?”
“Not the media,” Arnold said. “We saw it ourselves.”
Lightgate explained. “Arnold’s men checked his place, thinking to pick him up when he got clear of the security. Another angle we were testing. He was gone, the place had been turned over.”
“The Ministry –” Pax started.
“Not their style. They like things neat and tidy.”
“Other Fae?”
“I would know about it,” Lightgate said. “It had to be you.”
“Do I look like some sort of vengeful thug?” Pax said. Lightgate gave the question a little too much thought. With her loose clothing and arguably masculine occupation, Pax was used to certain assumptions, but this was an extreme. “How would I even do something like that?”
“I did my homework,” Lightgate said. “Some FTC drones paid a visit to your place yesterday, when they were looking to recover the tech Letty lost. They found security footage of what happened. The sort of friends you keep.”
Pax’s eyes widened. They were talking about Bees. The thinly-veiled criminal she enjoyed cards and conversation with, who she’d tasked with recovering the Dispenser from her apartment. But Casaria got it first; he’d turned up with it in the Sunken City. Had their paths crossed? Bees had been heavily suspicious of the MEE, without much concrete knowledge about them. If he had discovered the identity of one of their agents, would he have followed it up?
“Ah,” Lightgate said. “You didn’t even know you’d done it?”
“Wait.” Pax held up a hand, wanting this to slow down. Stop, if possible. Bees and his cronies might have followed Casaria, but they wouldn’t touch him, would they? They kept a low profile, and crossing the government was as far from discretion as you could get. But Bees put a premium on information, and his employer, Mr Monroe, was eager to learn about the tunnels. She hadn’t established exactly why, but they most likely wanted to smuggle or store contraband under the city. Had they cut her out and gone to a Ministry source? If so... Pax concluded out loud, “If it’s them, those men wouldn’t have killed him. They’d want to learn as much from him as they could.”
“And kill him after?”
“I don’t know. You didn’t track them down?”
“It wasn’t a priority. But it’s not rocket science.” Lightgate touched a hand mournfully to her hip flask. “This is a massive bust, isn’t it? You’re not who I thought at all.”
“Hey,” Pax said, firmly. “I might not be a murderer or a thug, but I can disrupt this. If Casaria’s with those men, I can get him back. I can get him onside, he can help.”
“Come on. Casaria is known to the Fae. He’s everything that’s wrong with the MEE.”
“Listen.” Pax shifted closer to the fairy. Lightgate took flight, a metre back by the time Pax realised she’d startled her. Pax froze, aware that Rolarn’s gun was aimed at her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to –”
“Watch yourself, human,” Arnold rumbled from the counter. Lightgate had one hand on a pistol but hadn’t drawn it.
“Sorry,” Pax repeated. “I wasn’t thinking.” But she saw a chance to respond to Lightgate’s doubts. “Sitting up doesn’t normally threaten anyone.”
Lightgate’s slight smirk returned. “Careful. You’re a big target.”
Pax held her gaze, and decided it best to move past the playful threat. “Casaria. He came into the Sunken City and set off your Dispenser – him, of all people. He did it for me.” And I fucked him over. Never mind. “If my friends have him, then I can get him back. We can use him to get into the Ministry. Get Rufaizu and your Dispenser out of there, without any explosives or turnbolds. That’d be enough to cast doubt on Val, wouldn’t it? You could get the FTC listening without sparking a war.”
Lightgate was unmoved. “What about crippling the Ministry?”
“Rufaizu knows things. Casaria, too. You can damage the minotaur and take back the Sunken City – that’s a blow to them, you said that yourself. Meanwhile, I can figure out the force behind the minotaur. Something Apothel called the Blue Angel, it’s pulling strings none of us knows about. You keep the Fae and the Ministry off my back and I can blow this puzzle wide open. It’s safe here, right?”
Lightgate looked up to Rolarn and he answered plainly, “There’s tech in these walls that’ll keep the Ministry from finding us. But I’m not running a hotel, definitely not for humans.”
“Be nice,” Lightgate said. “It’s one human, you’ve got space.”
“No, not just me,” Pax said. “There’s others that need protection too.”
This piqued Lightgate’s interest. “What others?”
“Darren Barton, his –”
“Citizen Barton.” Lightgate said the name with wonder. “His wife, that kid – they got mixed up in the fighting yesterday?”
“You know them?”
“Of course.” Lightgate smiled. “All the FTC know about Citizen Barton and the Apothel Five. Or at least they used to. The stories we had. The Slippery Stone, the – what was it?” She clicked a finger at Arnold. “That story about the sickle?”
“The Apothel Five and the Sliding Stone,” Arnold corrected, his voice losing its hostile edge for the first time. He recited what sounded like poetry: “Two score beast clashed in the pen, Amongst them stood five humen. Be they fang or be they claw, Aren’t they all of...of...”
“The same fucking thing,” Rolarn finished, impatiently.
“There’s no way that was the rhyme,” Pax commented.
“There were lots of these stories,” Lightgate said. “Bloody, gruesome adventures, with essentially the same moral.”
“Peepy-tales?”
Lightgate paused, looking a little impressed. “Similar. These stories said there were humans in the Sunken City as violent and dangerous as the monsters.”
“Clearly you’ve never met Darren Barton,” Pax said, picturing that gentle giant of a man.
“No,” Lightgate said. “I would like to. Bring everyone here, we can defend them.” Rolarn made an irritated noise, but Lightgate shot him a look and he kept quiet. “And Casaria. If you can charm him, I’d like to see that, too.” She actually sounded enthusiastic. “I knew it was a good idea to come back.”
Pax felt herself smile. “And you can call off this turnbold plan?”
“It’s going nowhere anyway.” Lightgate fluttered into the air. “This calls for a drink.” Flying over to the counter, she said, “Lighten up, Arnold, she’s only human.”
“Pax!” A voice came from the floor above.
Lightgate spun back, hands on her pistols.
“Pax, you’d better fucking be here!” Letty’s voice got closer, descending the escalator gap. “Tell me you got her, Rolarn, you doughboy fuck!”
“Perfect.” Lightgate’s hands relaxed off her guns.
Pax’s heart lifted as her tiny friend flew into the middle of the room with the whir of her artificial wing going into overdrive. Letty glowered at Rolarn. “You can’t answer your fucking phone?”
As Pax climbed to her feet, Lightgate drifted through the light of the lantern.
Letty stopped dead in the air. “Lightgate?”
Lightgate spread a hand to one side and gave a wonky curtsy.
“Fuck.”
Letty took a breath. She shot Pax a worried look, then shot an accusing one at Rolarn. Pax offered a light wave and an awkward smile.
“Good to see you, too, Letty,” Lightgate said. “It’s been a while.”
19
“I can not believe you,” Letty hissed, as they approached the scooter in the dark of the car park. “Talking to any old Fae now? Making deals with lunatics? Promising shit we all know would be best avoided.”
Pax hadn’t been aware how tense meeting the new Fae had left her, but Letty’s admonishing tone made the stress nice and clear. It was a relief to close the conversation with Lightgate and her ominous minions onside, though Pax wasn’t sure she wanted the drunkard along on her search for Casaria. At least she had a moment alone with Letty while Lightgate instructed her minions, though.
“We’ve got a way forward,” Pax said. “You didn’t hear their plan.”
“Did it involve brutally killing everyone?”
Pax paused. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“You don’t have any idea who they are, do you?”
“Sure I do,” Pax said. “That was the magnificent Lightgate. So called because she walks softly?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Letty spat.
“Light” – Pax enunciated more clearly – “gait. The way she walks?”
Letty looked ready to bite her eyes out, not in the mood. “She’s a nasty piece of work.”
“Uh-huh,” Pax said. “Scourge of the Gritty Plain, I heard.”
“The Grit Plateau, you arsehole. And Arnold, from the shit-sack Trawlers, he’s the head rat in a pack of them. Him and Rolarn are dangerous on their own, but put Lightgate in charge...by the manes of lizards, you’re lucky they know me – I can’t believe they talked to you.”
“You see how well she’s dressed? How bad can she be?”
“Very bad, alright?” Letty snapped. She landed on the bike between Pax’s hands, making Pax shift out of the way. “And you’re talking about Casaria like you’re old pals. Your instincts were right when you left him in the lurch. You want to know what happens when you bust him free? If he’s even alive? He hauls your arse in, that’s what.”
The Sunken City Trilogy Page 44
