The Sunken City Trilogy

by Phil Williams

  “Yes, but it would take time...what do you hope to achieve, Ms Ward?”

  Sam gave him a look that said it wasn’t his place to ask.

  “It’s just…” Roper cleared his throat. “It’s a serious appropriation of resources. There are always anomalies in the numbers, that’s why Support exist – we look for important deviations. Otherwise you’d be knee-deep in tangents. Perhaps if you told me exactly why you think novisan spikes would occur elsewhere, I could help explain it?”

  Sam continued to glare at him. As if anyone ever deigned to give her explanations. “I’m just following leads. Thanks for your help, Roper, let me think on it for now.”

  “You know where I am.” He turned to go but paused in the doorway. Sam looked up, hopefully. “Can I bring you another coffee?”

  “No,” she said, deflated. “No thank you.”

  Roper nodded and ducked out, leaving Sam alone with Landon and the pile of paperwork on her desk. She raised her eyebrows to the agent for his report.

  “Fairly sure I found him,” Landon said. His tone sounded no more confident than Roper’s, so Sam sat back deep in her chair to receive the news. “Got a white van on double yellows around the corner from his building, on a traffic cam. Three men entered it a bit after 6am; can’t make out their faces but one was dressed in black, flanked by two bigger guys. Right sort of build for the pair we ran into yesterday. Looks like your instinct was right.”

  “Damn,” Sam said. Her instinct, though, said this wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Pax had fled from Casaria, why go back for him? Who were these people and what did they want? “Can you find them?”

  “I tracked back to when they arrived – the van was there since midnight. I couldn’t trace the direction they came through the traffic on the ring road, though. Tried to follow them leaving, driving across town. Caught the van on an intersection out of Central, and a flyover near Ten Gardens. Then lost it. Could be anywhere west of the Gader, unless they doubled back.”

  “Can you check the –”

  “Number plate? Already done. The van’s registered to a fish and tackle business supposedly based in the Net. Fairly sure it’s a front. Phone number goes to an answering service, company’s registered address is a PO box.”

  The Net was about as far from civilisation as you could get within Ordshaw, sitting towards the city’s northern limits, opposite the Gader from the warehouse district. It mirrored that area’s penchant for sparsely populated industrial properties, though the Net was alive with failing, shady or unsavoury businesses. “Any guesses who these guys are?”

  “Two other cameras around the building had been erased. Between all that and the little performance they gave us yesterday, I’d say they’re career criminals.”

  “We might find their faces in the databases, then.”

  “The images aren’t clear enough for our recognition software – I tried that. But I might find the faces in the files myself. If that’s where you want me.”

  “Yeah. Good work so far. But come here a second, first. I could use your input.”

  Sam’s eyes ran back to the paperwork on her desk, hoping this, at least, might produce results. Around Apothel’s Miscellany, she’d arranged historic reports on the Ripton Chapel, questioning why the word grugulochs was important. According to the files, the chapel had been sealed about two weeks after Apothel had been murdered, along with five other locations. The inventory of recovered items from his lairs included alcohol, pages of scrawled notes, and the barest essentials for living: electric hobs, tired clothes and stacks of tinned meat. There were also the ashes of small fires that had been used to burn other papers. Apothel covering his tracks.

  None of the other locations had been marked in the way that his chapel had been. The claw marks that covered its walls had been notable enough for the investigating agents to photograph and describe in their written reports, but prompted no further investigation. The best-quality photos, which were woefully lit and grainy, revealed hints of words that hadn’t quite been scratched clear. Clusters of letters that hinted at creature names: -ckle, gl-, ven. But none of the photos or notes referenced the one clear word that remained. Most of the images weren’t clear enough for her to tell if they were the wall she’d seen, but the chief reporting agent, Jelani, had starkly written: No legible text remains. Clear the civilian hoped to conceal his legacy.

  Had they actively hidden the word “grugulochs” from the report?

  “Were you based in Ordshaw when Apothel died?” Sam asked Landon.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Strange time.”

  “You knew this guy, Jelani? I’ve never come across him.”

  “Sure. Good man. Black. Got moved to London.” Sam sat back from the report to question why black mattered, but Landon went on, eyes resting on Apothel’s book, open on the page about the Layer Fae. “You getting anywhere with that? The note in the margin said that bit was inaccurate.”

  “I saw,” Sam replied. “You think the rest is?”

  Landon shrugged. “I only had a little scan.” He turned the pages to a section headed Bunch Spider. “From what I read, that one’s roughly true, about tackling one of them. If you had to face one hand-to-hand. There’s other things I couldn’t say either way, creatures I haven’t encountered.”

  “Or don’t exist,” Sam said, voicing the MEE’s agreed line on Apothel’s anomalies.

  “Yeah. And there’s other things we’ve updated the research on now. Particularly the plant life, as we’ve worked with Dr Rimes since then.”

  Sam froze at the name. The doctor on the hill. That unconventional recluse beavering away outside their tight budget. When they first enlisted her help, after Apothel’s group disbanded, she must have verified many of Apothel’s claims. “Has anyone contacted her to cross-reference the information? See how much of it is fiction?”

  “I don’t think we’ve had the time,” Landon said. “Like I said, no one –”

  “She worked with Apothel, back then,” Sam thought out loud. The doctor’s place had been on Sam’s list of locations to check in the recent search for Rufaizu, which Operations had ignored – what else had they ignored? “If Pax is following his trail, maybe the doctor would have an idea why? The praelucente’s actions today, she might have input on that? Has someone at least checked if the civilians have been in touch with her?”

  “Yes.” Landon confirmed this one proudly, something he could finally answer positively. “Farnham and Devlin checked on her this morning, no one had been there. She seemed clueless as ever, they said.”

  “And we’re satisfied with that? Did anyone ask her if Rufaizu or Barton had been in touch before all this kicked off?”

  Landon said nothing. He stared into space as though the suggestion of missing something so obvious had shut down his mental faculties.

  “Landon?”

  “I don’t know. Probably.”

  “That sounds like a no.”

  “I’ll check.” Landon went to the door, and Sam looked to the book again. A darkly etched image of an embattled, gorilla-like creature. Why was she poring over Apothel’s wild drawings when she could ask his scientist friend directly?

  “Wait,” Sam called out. “Get me her number. I want to talk to her myself.”

  25

  On the north side of Ripton, Chaucer Crescent took Pax a mile south of her apartment. She tried not to think about home, easing Casaria down against a tree. He had regained some focus after the initial shock, eyes following her, but his teeth remained gritted in agony.

  Pax assured him, “I’m gonna get you help. Just hang in there.” She walked briskly down the road, scanning semi-detached houses, ignoring his moans and muffled grunts that might have said hospital.

  The homes were masked by weeds and scaffolding, or otherwise had building supplies in their drives. A suburb for people aspiring to better lives, who didn’t have the time or money to complete their projects. Not that Pax could judge. She wasn’t sure if her hom
e was even hers any more. It was almost certainly being watched.

  Fuck.

  She turned back towards the bike, to Casaria, and realised for the first time that he had no shoes, and his bandaged left foot was bleeding. And she’d brought him here, to a crusty dead street for the promise of, in Holly’s words, a magic elixir. His eyes met hers imploringly, but he’d stopped complaining, a hand pressed into his side as he waited for her to save him.

  Christ, even if she stabilised Casaria, saved Rufaizu and pinned the chaos on the Blue Angel, did she have anything to go back to? Letty was right: she had seen things she couldn’t unsee. Monsters, not just under the city but in her limited personal life, too. She’d been happy playing cards. She’d been happy wandering Ordshaw at night, not knowing what lay under the surface. She didn’t need this.

  “Regrets?” Letty asked, dropping down from the sky.

  “Huh?” Pax shook out of her thoughts. “You see anything?”

  “Definitely more than you, staring off into la-la land. There’s a spot about halfway up the road. Building gutted by a fire or something. Would bet your mum on it being the place. If you thought Apothel’s chapel was something, you’re gonna love this.”

  “Show me.” Pax gave Casaria a thumbs up and started away.

  She felt an odd sense of foreboding in her gut. Another dreary location, drawing her into trouble. It had a direction; she sensed exactly where they were going before they reached the site. Her fingers tingled as the dread built. Was something happening again?

  No, it wasn’t like before. Just a slight burn, a subtle pull. But it was something. Simple anxiety, perhaps?

  Pax stopped as Letty drifted up to their target building, the nervous feeling only getting worse as they got closer. Maybe she felt the glo itself, if it was connected somehow to the energy of the minotaur?

  The rough shape of the building matched the others, but the roof was mostly missing, the windows were boarded up, and the entrance was blocked by a chain link fence. Unlike the chapel, it wasn’t secured. The fencing could be moved, and the boarding was weak chipboard. Some kid had graffitied it with an illegible green tag. Letty perched on the fence as Lightgate joined them.

  Pax asked, “Can you go in and scope the place out?”

  Letty didn’t answer at once, likely recalling their disagreement at the chapel. “What’s it worth?”

  “I’ll pay you,” Pax said. “Tenner?”

  “How about you owe me,” Letty said. “Pretty sure you’re no good for cash.”

  Pax flipped her a middle finger and Letty buzzed to a gap in a window frame.

  Lightgate hung back. The Fae’s hip flask was out again, another swig. Had she been drinking ever since West Quay?

  Pax turned to check the street again. A few neighbours had lights on but their curtains were drawn. The sounds of bad television came through too-thin windows two houses down; loud voices followed by a cacophony of either laughter or cheers.

  Sure she wasn’t being watched, Pax crept into the driveway of the ruined building and took out Rimes’ phone to use the torch.

  “You’ve got something going on here, don’t you?” Lightgate said, suddenly a foot from Pax’s head. Pax suspected the fairy had tried to make her jump. Not this time.

  “Me and Letty?”

  “You and Letty. You need to be careful.”

  “Thanks, but I trust her.”

  “I’m not talking about her. Neither the Ministry nor the Fae look kindly on mingling. It’s one thing we have in common. And you’re making it worse.” Lightgate gestured back up the road to Casaria. “This pot you’re stirring had better taste good.”

  “Like I have a choice,” Pax said.

  Rimes’ phone buzzed in Pax’s hand, making her start. An unknown number; eleven digits that could have been anyone. Pax had come to fear mystery callers since her first terrifying conversation with Letty.

  “You’re in luck.” Letty swept down from the sky. “This is going to be a –” The fairy paused, seeing the ringing phone. “What is it?”

  “It’s not my phone,” Pax said.

  “Want me to talk to them?” Lightgate offered.

  “God no.”

  “Just answer it or I’ll give you a slap,” Letty said, and Pax did.

  She said nothing, as the caller was already speaking: “– not on silent.”

  The caller went quiet for a second. A woman. Holly?

  “Dr Rimes? This is Sam Ward from the Ministry of Environmental Energy.”

  Pax shot her hand up to hang up, but Letty waved urgently. The fairy put a finger to her lips for quiet, then mouthed, “Let her talk.”

  “Dr Rimes, are you there?”

  Pax cleared her throat, and Letty nodded. Pax croaked an ambiguous, “Yes.”

  “I’m the head of IS Relations,” Ward said. “We spoke once before, about two years ago, if you recall.”

  Pax gave a muffled, “Mmhmm.”

  “I’m sorry about the time. I believe you spoke with our agents this morning, and I expect you’ve heard what’s happened today?”

  “Yes...”

  “Could I ask you a few questions? If it’s not too much bother?”

  Pax hesitated, searching down the road for Casaria, as though he might help. Letty got in her way, nodding encouragement. Pax spoke in her best mumbled mimicry of the doctor’s voice, “Go on.”

  “The praelucente, or something very close to it, was heard to make noises today. They match a word Apothel wrote a couple of times. Did he ever mention this to you?”

  “What...” Pax kept her voice quiet. High-pitched. Lightgate stifled a laugh, earning a fierce look from Letty. “What word?”

  “Grugulochs.”

  Pax frowned, as Letty gave her an I told you so look.

  “I’m looking at Apothel’s diary, the Miscellany, as he called it. There’s a page on what he labelled the minotaur, titled ‘Grugulochs’. Did he connect the two words with you?”

  “In his book?” Pax croaked.

  “Yes, in his code. It’s been partially translated by a civilian.”

  “A civilian...wrote that word?”

  “Yes.”

  That hadn’t been in the Miscellany when Pax had read it. She would have remembered if Rufaizu’s notes included it, and she certainly hadn’t written it herself. This didn’t add up. Had someone doctored the book? Was it a trap?

  Ward continued, “Is it a word you’re familiar with?”

  “No,” Pax said.

  Ward gave that a moment. “I wonder if you might come to Greek Street, Dr Rimes? We could benefit from your particular viewpoint.”

  Pax grunted dismissively.

  “If I’m honest, I’m concerned. We’ve missed some important details, and an outside perspective would be welcome.”

  Pax opened her mouth to say no. But this was an opportunity for information. If they were going to cross the Ministry, she had to know it was worth it. She spoke slowly, sure her cartoonish voice would be discovered. “Ms Ward – do you have Rufaizu?”

  Ward didn’t answer at once. “It’d be best if you came to Greek Street, then we could talk in person.”

  “I’d like to see him,” Pax told her. “But not there. I don’t go there.”

  “Why don’t we –”

  Pax winced, suddenly, and let out a short shriek, the phone dropping from her hand as pain shot down her lower back. Not now. It knocked her to a knee, one hand slamming into the pavement. The pain pulsed, her heart lurching, the same electric jolt.

  The same feeling as when the trains had crashed.

  But no images – just black – burning black – the monster moving – feeding – doing something. It was close. Very close.

  Pax gritted her teeth, trying to move away from it but paralysed by the pain.

  “What the fuck?” Letty demanded, flying in her face. “You having a stroke?”

  “Dr Rimes?” Ward’s voice said from the phone on the pavement, loud with concern.r />
  The pain gave one more pulse, then left as quickly as it came. Pax dropped onto her haunches. Her jaw slackened and she uttered, “Bloody hell.”

  Then it was all over, with no sign it had ever happened bar breathlessness and the position Pax found herself in.

  Letty hissed, “You got some kind of illness I should know about?”

  Pax shook her head, grabbing the phone. Ward wasn’t talking. Pax affected Rimes’ voice again, “Sorry, I –”

  “Ms Kuranes? Is that you?” Ward said.

  Pax froze.

  “Why do you have Dr Rimes’ phone?”

  Pax’s mouth dropped open. This was bad. Very bad.

  “Let me.” Letty flew below Pax’s nose, to the bottom of the phone. She raised her voice, and said, “Rimes is dead and you’ll join her if you keep this up. Understand, fuck-bucket?”

  Pax stared, aghast, and imagined Ward reacting the same way.

  “Fucking hang up already,” Letty snarled.

  “Who is that?” Ward spoke urgently. “Pax, are you with –” She was cut off by someone in the background. A panicked man. “Not now! Pax – please –”

  “I said step the fuck off, desk-jockey!” Letty shouted. “Or you wanna learn what InterSpecies Relations really means?”

  “Wait!” Ward said. “You can’t –”

  Pax ended the call and glowered at Letty. “What the hell was that?”

  “You tell me, you’re the one on the floor!”

  “No, that!” Pax held up the phone. “You just –”

  “She made you! Better to give her the fear.”

  “Absolutely,” Lightgate agreed, grinning at this whole exchange.

  The phone started ringing again.

  “Ditch it,” Letty commanded. “We need to move.”

  Pax looked over to Casaria, in shadows with his head resting back against the tree. Had he passed out? She stood quickly, cutting off the caller, and brought up Rimes’ home number. She nodded to the ruined building. “The glo’s in there?”