“Wait.” Pax looked back down the alley, “this is someone’s home.”
“And? Coming here was your idea.”
Pax gave her a wary look, then pulled her hood up. Great. Add suspicion of burglary to whatever else the MEE might pin on her. She dug the tip of a boot into the brickwork, got a foot onto the gate handle and hoisted herself. She just about had the strength to pull herself up, but her chest landed heavily on top of the narrow wall. Flopping like a beached whale, she looked into the overgrown dirt patch to one side. Half a dozen rusty gardening tools were piled against the far wall.
“You stuck?” Letty asked, buzzing near her ear. Barely keeping the laughter from her voice. Pax flapped a hand her way but realised the effort had left her breathless.
“I’ve got some good news,” Letty said. “You won’t need the bin.”
Pax pivoted on the wall gracelessly. Unfit. Not recovered from the Sunken City. Shouldn’t be climbing walls. She followed the fairy’s gesture. In the other direction, a narrow ledge ran behind the next house, to where the roof of Apothel’s chapel banked down to only a few feet higher. With a little more scrambling she’d be able to get up there. In the middle of the slanted roof was a hole, just as Letty had promised. Boarded up like the windows out front.
“You know how high that is?” Pax said, rising unsteadily. “If I can even get in, how am I supposed to drop down? How am I supposed to get back out?”
“All your thinking is exhausting,” Letty said. “No wonder you’re puffing over a little wall.”
“I’m not enjoying this,” Pax said. “Not one bit.”
11
“Proximity alert,” Landon said, studying one of his various electronic devices. Phone clamped to her ear, Sam frowned at him to be quiet. He ignored her. “A site in Ripton. Motion sensors say there’s been disturbances at the door and the roof. AGe, number 218. I should go.”
“What’s he saying?” Mathers asked, on the other end of the phone line.
“Nothing, sir,” Sam replied, trying to keep his focus. So far, Mathers had shown little interest in her account of Casaria’s disappearance. “Should we wait for a forensics team? There were signs of a struggle.”
“Outside the building? On a street used by hundreds every day?”
“His apartment’s been searched – I think –”
“He might have been bleeding, you know?”
Sam paused. “Isn’t that the point, sir?”
“His existing injuries might have come unstuck. There are perfectly logical explanations we might look to before diverting attention from the very real problem of managing this morning’s crisis, Ward.”
“What logically explains Casaria tossing through everything he owned and disappearing?” Sam said, before she could filter that one. She cringed into her boss’s unimpressed breathing, as Landon gave her a surprised look.
“Alright,” Mathers said, and Sam closed her eyes with relief. “When Dr Hertz is done in New Thornton, perhaps he can swing by with the police.” Perhaps was no good. Dr Hertz might be no good either; the Ministry’s catch-all member of medical staff could analyse Sunken City samples and treat wounds, but she doubted his talents stretched to forensic science. “Time you came back. I believe your team have drafted some correspondence for you to check over.”
“But sir,” Sam started, without knowing what to say. Going back would mean getting bogged down in paperwork. Sidelined. To say nothing of the fact that Casaria was actually missing. As Mathers waited, Sam clicked her fingers at Landon. “There’s something we need to follow up.” She mouthed at the agent: Where is it? “Agent Landon has an alert.”
“Yes?” Mathers replied warily.
Landon gave Sam an uncertain look. He said, “AGe. Site 218.”
The designation for a civilian location, above ground. Most likely a cat rubbing up against a shop the Ministry had closed. Sam told Mathers, “It’s a site breach near here, while we’re in the field. An AGe alert. Operations are all occupied, aren’t they?”
Mathers’ slow breathing betrayed that once again he felt agitated about Sam making her own plans. “Landon can go alone, you can walk in.”
“Sir, he just lost his partner...” Sam said, trying to sound caring.
Another pause. Mathers conceded, dryly. “Be back within the hour.” He hung up before she could respond, and Sam found Landon staring at her, unconvinced.
“Proximity alerts are serious,” he said. “We are going there.”
Sam expected as much. At least it’d give her a chance to think. She might even work on this drone, get him to open up. She asked, “So where’s the car?”
It took a lot of shoving and ungainly levering, but the ragged planks over the hole in the roof finally snapped and fell into Apothel’s Chapel. Pax scooted back from the hole and the tiles creaked dangerously underneath her. Sliding onto her belly, spreading out her weight, Pax peered over the lip. It was dark inside, bar the empty pillar of daylight she’d created. The floor was maybe fifteen feet down, with nothing near the hole to climb onto.
Letty stood on the far side of the hole, hands on her hips. “Rather you than me.”
“I can’t get down there,” Pax said.
“Don’t be hard on yourself, you’ll fit.”
Pax narrowed her eyes. “I don’t have wings.”
“A little drop like that? Come on. They’re gonna know someone’s here, we don’t have all day.”
Pax dipped her head over the edge. A fog of dust partly concealed the open space, but as it turned and settled she saw there was nothing to conceal. Her eyes adjusted to the low light and she saw the shadowed corners; the hall was completely empty. Except...no, there was a radiator against one wall.
“You said there’s a cellar?” Pax asked.
“At the back. A side-room and a little kitchen unit, too, all empty. You think the Ministry were gonna leave stuff behind for any muppet to find?”
“I can’t see the walls. Are his markings still there, at least?”
“Here.” Letty rifled through her backpack. She pulled out a tiny cylinder and twisted it. It flared at one end like a Roman candle. Letty tossed it through the hole and it fell slowly down, burning brighter as it went. The flickering light revealed the far walls in white flashes. A network of scratches ran over the surfaces as if a ferocious beast had been caged there, clawing to get out. The marks were random, nothing like the coded symbols of Apothel’s book. They ran in deranged lines to impossible heights, scratched deep from the skirting up to the ceiling.
“Jesus Christ,” Pax said, imagining Apothel hacking at this mad mess while perched on a ladder. She leant further in as the roof flexed under her. Everywhere she looked was the same. “This isn’t like the video.”
“Guess he revised his notes,” Letty said. “To reflect his idiotic state of mind at the end. Seems representative of what was going on in his head.”
“You came here after he died, you knew it was like this?” Pax asked.
Letty shrugged. “Yeah. I said it was all scratched out.”
Pax let out a deep breath. Was it her fault for not listening properly, or the fairy’s for failing to communicate it? She’d assumed Letty couldn’t interpret it, not that the writing was gone. “There must be something...”
“Sure, insist hard enough, that’ll make it real.”
Pax ducked down again. There had to be something. She was tingling again. The heat in her chest was tickling her ribs, and something told her this was the right place. Had it been in the dream? The claw marks on the walls? There was something in this she couldn’t rationally explain, but she didn’t need to. The same way you knew when you’d sussed your opponent’s cards. You had to trust your instincts. She slid around the hole as the flare dimmed. In the final splutters of light, she saw letters.
A single word. Spread sideways, near a rear door.
The light went out.
“There’s something there,” Pax said. “You got another flare?�
��
“Not worth it.”
“You need to go down there, check it out.”
“You go down there.”
Pax glared at the fairy, but Letty had her arms folded, resolute. “By the far door, there’s something written. Anything that survived this vandalism has got to be useful.”
“If there’s anything to be done, which there isn’t, it’s on you.”
“Why’d you even come?” Pax said, struggling to keep cool.
“To keep an eye on you. The Ministry has defences specifically designed to screw with the Fae. Remember how we met? Fuck off, me going in there.”
Pax hesitated. She remembered well enough, finding the tiny woman unconscious on the floor. Knocked out by a Ministry trap that released a Fae-paralysing gas. “I’ll keep a hold of you, how’s that?”
“How’s that?” Letty echoed with alarm.
“You can get closer, and I can pull you out if anything happens, Ministry defences or whatever you’re scared of.”
“Are you fucking –”
Before Pax could overthink it, she closed a hand on the fairy. Letty started roaring curses as Pax quickly shifted forwards and hung her hand into the room. “I’m sorry – I’m sorry – but just have a look – see if there’s any other way down and I’ll go!”
Letty swore at the top of her voice, twisting in Pax’s grip. Definitely couldn’t let go of her now, she’d be liable to murder.
“You’re in already, no use –” Pax said.
“I’m gonna tear you apart!” Letty snarled.
“After you’ve had a look!” Pax insisted.
Letty thrashed a moment longer but started to calm.
“There’s nothing, is there? No Fae defences? You’re alright?”
“I’m gonna gut you.”
“After you have a look.”
Letty snarled, but Pax felt her relaxing slightly in her grip. The fairy twisted around. “I can’t see shit, not any better than you. Gonna get yourself killed over nothing.”
“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 o
ut 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 create 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.
Blue Angel Page 8
