“Guys?”
By the counter, the shadow of a fairy came around the till. The rounded bulk of Rolarn. He said, blandly, “So this is the corrupt agent? Our key to the Ministry?”
Pax gave Casaria a glance, finding him staring with tight-lipped anger. “Casaria, this is Rolarn. He saved my life earlier today, same as you did last night. You’re more alike than you realise.” Both violent creeps, for starters. Casaria looked too livid to respond. She turned to Rolarn. “Arnold not here?”
“Arnold,” Rolarn scoffed, leaning on his shotgun as if it were a crutch. Apparently they weren’t close. “Lightgate’s had his crew running errands all day. With luck they won’t be back. Bad enough I’m putting up humans, I’m not taking in Fae garbage, too. The shit I’m doing. Look.”
Rolarn turned the lantern on as Pax moved around the counter. She discovered a remarkable stash of human produce that Rolarn had apparently amassed alone. Wrapped sandwiches, bottles of water and bags of snacks, stacked to knee-height. Behind that, a pile of blankets, packaged fresh from a camping store. These Fae definitely had their uses – and despite Rolarn’s words, this stockpile showed empathy for human needs.
“How did you get all this here?”
“Carried it.”
Pax whispered, “Like rhino beetles.”
Casaria loomed over the counter from the other side, keeping his distance. He said, “Carried it from where?”
“No one’s going to trace it,” Rolarn said.
Pax noticed the safe. She crouched by the sturdy metal box, its door open. The two-tiered Fae hideout contained worn dollhouse-sized beds and armchairs, surrounded by piles of trinkets: jewellery, credit cards, a torn family photo. At the front, a barrel of powder that had to be Fae dust. Enough to dip a whole fairy into. The stash suggested the supply stockpile might have more to do with Fae hoarding instincts rather than empathy. And if this little camp was anything to go by, the Fae city had to be a sight worth seeing. Pax stood again, hearing Casaria’s voice getting more aggravated: “Illegal isn’t measured by whether you can get away with it. I didn’t think you were actually a criminal, Pax, even if you associate with them.”
“You stole from me.”
“In the interests of national security.”
“Bollocks.” Deciding not to fuel his hostility, Pax turned her attention to the state of her clothing. She asked Rolarn, “You do requests?”
Casaria tutted. “Add more theft to your willingness to work with these vermin and we’re getting into seriously dangerous territory.”
Pax bit back the need to reply. Barely interested, Rolarn said, “Lightgate says you get whatever you need.”
“Have you heard from her?” Pax said. “Are Letty and the others okay?”
Rolarn shrugged, his nonchalance as irritating as Casaria’s hostility. “Sure.”
“You can carry a human blanket but you can’t string a sentence together?”
“I can get it to talk,” Casaria said. “Ask me to get it to talk, Pax.”
“Yeah, Casaria” – Pax gave him a scathing tone – “I want you to hurt our only allies. That’s why I risked everything to get you back. You wanna park the macho for a minute and let me tell you what I do want?”
Casaria gave quiet assent.
“I want to figure out exactly how the minotaur and the things surrounding it are fucking us all.”
“It’s good for Ordshaw –”
“Get bent. You talk about protecting the city; after you shocked the minotaur, it started tearing through Ordshaw. Popped up at least twice to feed. People died.”
Casaria hesitated. “Impossible. It would never –”
“It did. At least seven dead in an Underground accident caused by the minotaur. And it’s only getting worse.”
Unsettled, Casaria’s voice broke slightly. “I’m sure – then the Ministry will deal with it. Our analysts monitor the net benefit, and if it crosses the point where it stops being useful, the MEE have protocols to take care of it. We have –”
“Bullshit,” Pax spat. “You have no idea what it is, how could you possibly know it’s got a net benefit, let alone deal with it? I saw it attached to the blue screens, and I saw a half-formed slug monster come out of one of them today.”
“There are no blue screens,” Casaria said, automatically. “Apothel invented –”
“They exist!” Pax replied, firm enough to startle Casaria into quiet. “I saw them myself! And there’s definitely something operating behind them, the thing Apothel called his Blue Angel. It’s capable of more than scratching on walls – these screens can move things, I saw an acidic slug creature come out of one – something else” – she pointed, indicating back where they’d come from – “at that glo drop-off. The Blue Angel controls these screens, and somehow uses this energy. I saw the screens connected to your praelucente. Whatever’s behind them is behind everything.”
“What everything?” Casaria said. “We have undesirable creatures surrounding a single desirable phenomenon. There’s no conspiracy –”
“There’s nothing but conspiracy!” Pax said, exasperated. “The creatures protect the minotaur, keeping us and the Fae away, so this Angel can keep using the energy it sucks from us. The Ministry are acting like game wardens – preserving the minotaur without properly understanding it. Fuck, Apothel did the same thing, even if his heart was in the right place.”
“Apothel,” said Casaria, pronouncing the man’s name like a curse, “wanted to destroy the praelucente. He was out of his mind.”
“Beside the point – he didn’t destroy it. He spent his time tracking it, telling the Blue Angel where the minotaur was, with no result. The moment he got his hands on a weapon that could make a difference, he died. And now you do his job instead, tracking the monster, protecting it.”
“Because we have data proving its worth, not because anyone tricked us.”
“Data that tells you what?” Pax said. “You don’t know what the minotaur is, do you? You have this idea of – what’s it called – novisan? Life energy? But you don’t know what glo does, or how the blue screen works. You don’t even believe they exist. But look at yourself, you’re standing, talking, after what you went through? Think – the truth of this whole mixed-up energy source is being hidden by this anonymous Angel, with powers beyond our understanding. It’s messing everyone around; it needs the minotaur, but it needs people watching it, too. The Blue Angel is using the monsters but they are not in its control. See the danger?”
“I see conjecture and paranoia,” Casaria said. “You think you’re the first person to ask these questions? Pax, I’m glad you’re invested, but the MEE have –”
“No,” Pax said, quickly. “Your people aren’t playing with a full deck. And maybe I’m not the first to ask, but I’m trying to get all sides of the story. It sure as shit feels like I’m the first to talk to the Fae without losing my head.”
“The Fae can burn in –”
“They used to live in the Sunken City!” Pax said. “They know things we don’t! Apothel died for these questions. People killed to silence the answers – your people continue the tradition.”
“I do what’s best. ”
“Yeah? Where the fuck is Rufaizu?” Pax’s voice rose again.
Casaria stalled. “It wasn’t safe having him free to share what he knew.”
“And what does he know? You’ve got all that from him now, have you?”
Casaria frowned. “Pax, he’s an aberration, like his father. Look, this isn’t you. You aren’t like them. You’re smarter than that.”
“Fuck you,” Pax spat. “You don’t know me.” She moved closer to him and thumped a hand against her chest. “This is me, standing up for my city.” She tapped her temple. “Using my fucking brain. Talking with other people, even if they’re homeless or tiny or just different, because they’ve got different pieces of this puzzle. I am like them, because I’m willing to fight a good fight. What are you?”
; Casaria leant away, intimidated by her proximity. The muscles around his mouth tightened. He was digging deep, for whatever justifications helped him sleep at night. He wanted to argue back but no words came. Finally, he gave in, breaking her gaze. “Whatever. Go steal some clothes.”
“That’s all you’ve got? Ignore the problems? I need you to help me, Casaria. Do you know what Rufaizu knows?”
Casaria reluctantly shook his head, and Pax saw the doubt in his eyes. Of course, he wanted answers, too. He hadn’t taken Rufaizu in straight away, when she first met him – he definitely had questions of his own. She pushed: “You didn’t let your mate in the Ministry take us in. You know we’re on the right side of this. Are you gonna help this city? Or do you want to go back to being part of the problem?”
He replied, with a tone meek enough to say he was ready to really listen, “What would you have me do?”
29
Sam was vaguely aware of a bright light flashing back and forth across her vision. A male voice asking her questions, fast but concerned.
“Ms Ward, can you hear me?”
She nodded numbly. Trying to look past the emerald blur of his bulky uniform. There was a crowd down the road. A fire-extinguisher hiss.
“Can you tell me what day it is?”
“Monday.”
“You remember what was in the news this morning?”
“In the news?” She batted his hand away as his fingers touched her head. It hurt. Stinging above her temple. Something warm trickling down.
“I’m just going to dab it, this might sting. It’s nothing serious.”
She winced as cloth touched the wound with an acidic bite.
“You saw the news this morning?”
“Yes, it was a great way to learn what I should’ve already known.”
She tried to stand and her knees buckled, almost sending her down again. The man caught her, hands firm but gentle. Surprised by her vulnerability, Sam looked into his eyes. He was tall, broad, kind-faced. From what she could see behind the thick ginger beard. More hair on his chin than his scalp.
“You took quite a knock back there,” he told her. What was the accent? Scottish, Glaswegian? How does someone from Glasgow end up in Ordshaw?
Irrelevant – Sam brushed his hands off and took a step aside, testing her legs again. They worked, after all. The pain was restricted to her head. “Just need an aspirin.” She lifted a finger, but he took her wrist and lowered her hand.
“You’ll need a couple of stitches, I can do it in the van.”
She looked aside, noticing the spinning blue lights for the first time. A massive, luminous yellow and green ambulance. Next to that a black Mercedes, and behind that a fire truck. A couple of firefighters stood chatting with a policewoman. No one seemed in an especial rush to do anything. One of the firemen was smiling.
Sam turned the other way. Towards the house.
Between the walls of trees, the road was blanketed by smoke. Another fireman was wandering along the tree-line with a fire extinguisher, searching for something to douse. Half a tree lay smouldering across the road. Beyond that, the doctor’s telegraph shack was patterned by torchlight. People moved in the windows.
“Excuse me,” Sam said. The paramedic blocked her path with a soft smile.
“Best you get some rest, Ms Ward. We’ll take care of that cut.”
“Give us a minute,” Landon said, approaching from the side. He looked severe, his face and cheap suit charred. He eyed the paramedic like a protective parent willing a suitor out of his daughter’s bedroom. Sam allowed herself a snigger. Landon put his hands on his hips as the paramedic reluctantly moved away.
“You alright?” It sounded like an order.
“He seemed to think so,” she said, lightly nodding towards the medic.
Landon continued brusquely, “They’re gone. But they were here, all of them – Barton and the others too, by the looks of it. And there’s no sign of trouble. Rimes must’ve been working with them. We could’ve had them.”
“At least we got your car...”
Landon snorted, “Not after that blast.”
“Ah.” Sam paused. “There was a flaming dog –”
“Canis inferorum,” Landon corrected. “Apothel’s people must’ve dragged it up here. They were here, and we should’ve known. You were right; Apothel’s crew getting back together has to present a danger to the praelucente.”
The trees nearby pulsed and blurred in Sam’s hazy vision. She took her time. “Maybe now Mathers will listen. Divert some resources where they’re needed.”
Landon didn’t look happy. “Mathers is under pressure from London. They’d rather these people be silenced than given a chance to spread whatever they know.”
“Silenced?” Sam’s jaw dropped open. “Without understanding their angle?”
“Containment is the top priority, with the media already circling around Ordshaw,” Landon said. “But I agree, it’s shortsighted.”
Sam stared at his grumpy face, his eyes averted from hers. She knew – of course she knew – the extremes that the Ministry went to to protect the Sunken City. But in her mind that meant transporting derelicts far from the city. Using violence only against the most unreasonable lowlifes. She had met Pax, who almost seemed reasonable. And the Bartons, if they were still together – they were an innocent family. Suddenly Sam wondered it was a good thing the dog had exploded around her, if it gave the civilians a break. She said, “So we’re searching for them, now?”
“Not yet,” Landon said. “What you see here, that’s what we’ve got. A couple of agents going over the place, but they’re due in Nothicker after. The search for the civilians can resume in the morning.”
“In the morning?” Sam exclaimed. “They could be out of the country by the morning!”
“We’re lucky to have what we’ve got, here.” There was gravity in the way he looked at their surrounding support. “Things are worse in Nothicker.”
“What happened?” Sam asked, realising she’d completely abandoned all thoughts of the latest surge.
“It brought down a squat. An old library building, might’ve been thirty people in there. Most of them got out, but we can’t be sure, no proper records. The building’s gone. Flattened. The media are crawling over it, even out there. The country’s watching us, Mathers says, so it’s all hands on deck to keep things quiet.”
Sam paused. “But Pax and the others could indicate where this is going next.”
“Mathers won’t hear it. He’s not happy you left the office.”
“Even if we almost caught up to them?”
“I get it,” Landon said. “I agree. For what it’s worth. But Mathers says if you go off the book again, you’ll face suspension. Or worse.”
“Mathers wouldn’t suspend me,” Sam said. “There’s no one to pick up the slack. We have to keep going, forget his threats. What’s in there?” She pointed to Rimes’ shack. “Tell me there’s some clue to where they’ve gone, something telling us what they got from Rimes.”
Landon paused. “They left a map out, with location markers. Not Apothel’s known locations, at a glance. It’s something, maybe, but we don’t know what. We can’t go and check the sites out, not with Mathers on our case.”
Sam huffed at the thought of their guileless leader, blocking the way to progress. “We have to go around him. We’ll put in a written request to the Commission; they can’t ignore it in writing. Email – hell, a fax. Go straight to Lord Asquith, explain where we are, the potential implications. We can demand he intervene, at least let me direct IS towards this investigation.”
Landon didn’t disagree, which she took for support.
“In the meantime, Mathers has to sleep. We’ll wait for him to leave the office, then continue our work.”
“You ought to rest,” Landon said, like she needed to consider it very carefully.
Sam scanned the ambulance again. The protective paramedic was leaning against it, watching her
from a distance. She remembered being airborne, surrounded by heat. Hit something hard and flopped down like a tossed doll. And that was the result of her being saved. If that dog had caught up to her...
Landon must have been reading her thoughts, because he said, “You took a knock. These lads can fix you up and take you home. I can pick up the slack.”
“You barely slept last night. I don’t want to –”
“I’ll get a few hours on a sofa in the office, once I’ve got things rolling. I’m used to nights, you’re not. You said it yourself: better equipped means more effective. Same with being rested. I’ll organise everything, giving you something to work with in the morning. Starting with that map.”
“And the novisan scans –”
“I’ll take care of it,” Landon said, firm enough to be final.
Sam nodded, silently, worried that if she said anything more it would come out emotional. Unprofessional.
Landon gave her an understanding nod and turned back to surveying the scene. “This didn’t go well. But we made progress. My work doesn’t usually involve progress. I think we’ll do even better tomorrow.”
30
Pax’s mood improved once she’d got the rancid smells of sweat and slime off her, using the shopping centre’s public toilets. The clothes Rolarn procured, though not remotely her style, were also a blessed change from her ripped, sodden jeans and her sleeveless hoodie. Things were on the up, relative to where she’d been an hour ago, and the sounds of people arriving in the abandoned Debenhams only added to her eagerness. Voices – familiar voices. Barton grumbled something hoarsely. They’d made it, in good time. Letty answered teasingly, “– racks for organ harvesting, wait and see. You can build a whole industry from a single human kidney.”
“Cut that shit out,” Barton snarled, “or I’ll deal with you, understand?”
“Take a day off,” Letty said.
“Letty?” Pax called, bounding up the dead escalator.
“Damn straight,” Letty shouted back. “You good, Pax?”
“More or less.” Pax swung her light their way. Holly raised a hand over her eyes, with Barton propped between her and Grace. Rimes lingered like a shadow behind them. “Thank God – you’re all alright?”
The Sunken City Trilogy Page 52
