Blue Angel

by Phil Williams

  “Sir?” Casaria’s voice bellowed beyond it all. “Evacuate! I’ll handle this!”

  “You’re all going to –” the older guy roared.

  The floor exploded.

  8

  In her brief forays into the Sunken City, Sam had been exposed to a number of its creatures. She’d seen a sickle, at a distance, and the shadow of a passing effundo porcum. She’d heard glogockles and seen the destructive path left by a migrating tuckle. They all exuded enough horror that she’d never needed to see more. Once she’d negotiated her way into Greek Street, they became names and numbers collated in spreadsheets and bar charts. Recent turnbold numbers were below the optimum level for balance in the Sunken City ecosystem; a good ratio of turnbolds reduced excessive sickle numbers. The problem was too many crusads, spider-like creatures which fed venom into the food chain, deadly to turnbolds. The solution was to increase the coverage of wading moss in the northeast quadrant, stimulating the spread of carnivorous buglooms which would, in turn, prey on crusads.

  It was all a game of numbers.

  In late February Sam had drawn up a plan to redress this balance.

  Seeing it in the flesh, she was thankful that particular plan had been rejected.

  The turnbold was a nightmare incarnate: its enormous turtle-like shell slowly rotated above a tangle of thick tentacles, various dark holes in its carapace hinting at the horror of multiple heads within.

  Sam backed down the corridor. The hall was thick with debris, lights flickering. Casaria stood nearby, making noises like he was testing his voice or ears. On the other side of the creature, Mathers was on a knee, trying to gather his senses. The agent with him, Devlin, was coughing on dust. Pax punched at a lift button but the doors weren’t closing.

  The turnbold screeched, a birdlike call that cut to the bone. It came as a series of sounds from different parts of its shell. It rotated out of the mess of the shredded floor, a domed shape the size of a large table. Tentacles rolled up from its base, feeling for purchase. As it pulled itself up, and the dust started to clear, its faces became clearer.

  A couple of tentacles reared up and single, jagged claws stretched out of their ends, hooking into the walls. It pulled itself further out of the hole and another head crept out from one of the shell’s openings. The face stood on a stalk-like neck, wrapped in leathery green skin. In all other ways, it had the appearance of a human skull, its circular eyes shining like copper as the strobing hall light caught them. No pupils, no irises, but clearly looking Sam’s way. Its crooked jaw dropped open and a two-foot lizard tongue flicked out, spraying blood across the floor. It let out another avian cry.

  Sam ran.

  Another flurry of cries and a sudden burst of action answered her panic. Concrete and floorboards snapped behind her, the heavy thump saying the turnbold was clear of its opening and advancing. More thumps, the sound of claws tearing through the walls. Someone shouted. A heavy thwack as it passed Casaria – had to have hit him, knocked him down. But it hadn’t slowed. It was gaining on her.

  Sam aimed for the end of the corridor. She couldn’t turn, no time to open any of the doors. All she had was a square window to aim for. And what? Jump? It was getting faster – moving faster than her – she wasn’t even going to make the window –

  The monster’s climb must have severed the power lines, because the lift wasn’t responding. Pax leant out, looking one way then another. The arrow of a fire exit sign pointed past the monster. There had to be stairs somewhere.

  The creature – Lightgate’s turnbold, it had to be – tore free of the hole it had created. Like a goddamned turtle-mole. It was following Ward’s screams down the hall. The suit by the lift composed himself to stand with a pistol in one hand, but that was it.

  “Fucking do something!” Pax yelled, but he only turned to her dumbly.

  Casaria hit the wall as the monster thundered past.

  Pax leapt out of the lift and tore the pistol from the suit’s hand, lifted it and pulled the trigger. It bucked in her hand with a terrific bang and she almost let go. The ceiling erupted halfway down the hall. That snapped the agent out of his trance; he gave her such a look that she held up a defensive hand and offered the gun back. By the time he’d turned, the turnbold was coming back their way. Two skeletal heads poked out of its shell, bouncing on stalk-like necks, bony jaws chattering hungrily together. The agent spread his legs and raised the gun. The older suit pressed himself against the wall as the monster arrived.

  The gun went off and some fleshy mass exploded with dark liquid. The monster screeched but didn’t slow down. Pax rolled towards the lift as she was hit by a spray of hot blood. The agent smashed into the wall above her and flopped to the floor a metre away. His lower half flapped into the wall on the other side. A tentacle shot over Pax’s head, claws ripping through the wall. The lift panel came off with sparks.

  Pax made it to her hands and knees, trying to crawl out of the way as the turnbold pulled itself along the corridor, rising on its tentacles, jaws gnashing from multiple heads.

  “Casaria!” the older suit yelled, reprimanding on instinct. “Shoot it!”

  The mass of tentacles writhed like worms as the shell spun in his direction, jamming against the wall in the tight space. The man’s scream was cut off by a wet thunk, reduced to a gargle. Pax saw the guy’s lower legs, between the tentacles, raised off the floor, kicking for a second, before they stopped. Blood oozed down the wall behind him. The turnbold lowered itself, the shell obscuring the view but not the sound, as he gargled more desperately, and multiple jaws started chewing.

  Pax heard her own loud breath as she tried to crawl away. Her hands were shaking. Rufaizu shouted from the lift, voice echoing in the tinny confines, “Want trouble turny-bold? Think I’m afeared from you?”

  He got its attention, the tentacles slapping against the floor again, the shell turning. Pax dived out of the way as it lunged for the lift opening. Its broad shell caught in the metal doorframe and it released a series of frustrated screeches. Its tentacles flapped about as it blindly tried to force its way in. The walls creaked under its immense weight, the lift’s frame twisting noisily. Rufaizu laughed. “Best you got? Come at me!”

  The sound of snapping jaws bounced out of the lift.

  Pax jumped to her feet, and something snapped her way. The shell had openings all the way around it, and another stalk head launched at her. Ducking the bite, she jumped to get past the monster. She slipped on the MEE agent’s blood, bringing her down to a knee, just in time to avoid a claw that punched through the wall at head-height. Pax dived out of the way and ran in a crouch, clear of the monster, back to the hole it had risen from. It gnashed and shrieked, and she half-turned to see it was stuck in the lift entrance, heads popping in and out of its shell and tentacles lashing in all directions. The older suit was mangled like roadkill on the floor. Rufaizu drew its attention again: “Ugly sinner, that all you got?”

  Utterly mad – she’d pinned her hopes on him?

  But at least the ferocious attack had woken him up.

  Pax stumbled towards Casaria. He was taking deep breaths, leaning against the wall. Impossible to see if he’d been seriously injured or just winded.

  “Nu...nu...” Casaria wheezed, vaguely pointing at a collection of weapons at his feet. A stubby gun that looked like a toilet roll with a handle. A conventional-looking pistol. A couple of small cylinders that had to be grenades.

  Pax looked from the weapons up the corridor. A fire exit light stood out over a door at the end of the hall. Sam Ward was there, eyes staring their way. For a moment Pax thought she was dead, pressed horrified against the window. But the woman’s head moved, shaking in disbelief.

  “Get out, all of you go!” Rufaizu yelled. “I can’t hold it much longer!”

  Hell, he wasn’t a simple lunatic, he was actually trying to distract it.

  “Pneumatic charge!” Casaria forced it out, with all his breath, kicking the stubby weapon. Pax snatche
d it up. Two buttons on the gun, a lever at the side, a basic trigger. She aimed down the corridor at the writhing monstrous mass and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened, and the tentacles kept snatching at the lift.

  Casaria grunted, halfway up the wall and reaching a hand her way. She shoved the weapon at him and he pumped the lever, pressed one of the buttons. It made a hissing noise. But he stopped there, slumping, with barely the energy to breathe.

  The lift creaked, the wall splitting around it as the turnbold pressed further inside. Rufaizu couldn’t hide the fear in his voice now. “Yeah – ugly – try it – that your best?”

  Pax ripped the gun off Casaria and aimed again. She braced herself and fired. The tube erupted like a bursting air canister, and a projectile shot down the hall with a plume of gas. It cracked through the left edge of the turnbold’s shell, multiple shrieks coming from the monster. The thing slumped slightly, many of its tentacles going limp, then its heads drew in with an echo of pained breaths.

  “Move your arse, Rufaizu!” Pax screamed as the monster reared up.

  “Go, go,” Casaria gasped, a hand feebly pushing Pax’s shoulder. There was a flurry of movement as Rufaizu scrambled through the tentacles under the turnbold, the creature twitching at its extremities. Casaria gathered his pistol and the grenades off the floor, finally getting his breath back. He gave Pax a harder shove. “It’s recovering.”

  Pax stumbled a few steps, hitting the edge of the hole the turnbold had created. Below, she saw the devastated remains of desks amid blood and lumps of flesh. There was another hole in the floor below. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  “Go!” Casaria croaked, as he clawed at a grenade. With Rufaizu still back there.

  “No!” Pax yelled, and he caught her eyes before looking back the turnbold’s way. He shook his head, but lowered the grenade, then started moving ahead. Away from the creature, limping as fast as his stunned body would take him.

  Casaria waved at the frozen Ward, shouting, “Go!”

  “Casaria!” Pax ran after him, grabbing his arm as Ward came to life, scanning the doors near her. “There must be something –” Casaria pushed Pax back.

  “Only had one shot,” he snapped, smacking the tube gun from her hands. “You missed.”

  Pax stood frozen for a second, looking from the apparently empty gun back towards the turnbold. Its tentacles were becoming more animated, searching the air. One of its heads came out of the shell, eyes dim but widening. As Rufaizu burst out from under its mass, staggering into the open, the eyes brightened. The creature shuddered all over and Rufaizu cursed as he stumbled upright.

  Pax raced the short distance back to him as the turnbold screeched again. Another of its heads stuck out, jaws biting at Rufaizu, and he ducked out of the way. The monster wrenched itself to the side, ripping a massive fragment of wall free, lurching halfway clear of the remnants of the lift. Pax grabbed Rufaizu and pushed him the other way. As she turned again, something caught her ankle. It pulled her leg from under her and she met the floor with a knock to the head. She saw one of the tentacles tangled around her leg, dragging her towards an extended head with a wide skeletal maw.

  “Get to hell!” Rufaizu yelled, jumping past her, feet first. He caught the turnbold shell beyond the head with both feet. The tentacle came free as the turnbold rolled onto its side with more snaps and screeches, toppling into the lift. Rufaizu landed heavily beside Pax, coughing in shock like he hadn’t expected the impact.

  Pax jumped up and pulled him with her. “Move, move, move!” He lifted himself, with her help, and they ran arm in arm down the hall. The turnbold writhed in the lift, screeching and clawing and scraping its clawed tentacles against the walls. At the end of the hall, Casaria was waiting, holding a door open. Ward was already gone.

  “This way!” he shouted, uselessly.

  The cries of the struggling turnbold were met with a groan from the elevator shaft. Pushing her legs as fast as they’d go, Pax didn’t dare look back.

  “It’s going down!” Rufaizu whooped, twisting in her grip.

  Another metal groan. More turnbold screams as it bucked at its confines.

  Pax turned to see the elevator break free. With a final splitting of the walls around it and a tremendous crash, the lift fell out of sight, dragging the turnbold down with it. A cloud of dust rose to fill the corridor, silhouetting the flopping shapes of two severed tentacles and a flying head.

  Rufaizu was laughing again.

  The lift landed far below, and the building shook with an enormous boom. Another cloud of dust burst out of the shaft and there was a second’s silence before the avian shrieks resumed. The creature, at the base of the building, sounding angrier than ever.

  “This way,” Casaria said again. “Out the back.”

  9

  In the Plaza, waiting, ruing Pax for not having a phone, Letty kept scanning through Fae websites, finding articles complementing the first headlines she’d discovered. They confirmed her fears: between the rumours about Pax eating a Fae, and the news reports about the return of the dangerous Apothel Five, the Fae media was being led to believe the humans were fiendishly mad. It would look bad if someone came forward with the Dispenser, claiming some humans actually wanted to help them. Even worse if those humans had been killed by Val.

  Arnold had called three times, but Letty didn’t answer. They’d be here soon enough, better if they didn’t come too prepared.

  Letty scanned from her phone down to Rolarn’s festering body, forcing herself to look at him. It wasn’t right, having to kill another Fae, even a Grade A arsehole. There weren’t enough of them, and he was a soldier, one way or another. And she’d done it for the sake of the humans. Weighed their lives against one of her own.

  Except it was right.

  She didn’t owe her people loyalty – not when all they did was make things worse.

  She needed a better distraction. Who was the guy that’d come visiting? How important was he?

  Letty searched for his name. The suited dork’s face came up right away, in multiple posed photos. Councilman Edwing, as he’d claimed. A young blood in the FTC government, he hadn’t been around when Letty was still there. She checked the headlines relating to him. He’d rapidly risen to Chair of Information, whatever the hell position that was. So Lightgate had the ear of the government. Plotting another coup. Letty bit her lip. Considering Valoria’s attitudes to the Dispenser, she wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing, but Edwing hadn’t been entirely on board, had he? Lightgate’s people needed to create a scene that forced him to act. A dead family of humans would do that.

  Letty tried the news sites again.

  A new headline came up. Well, shit, that had to be another of Lightgate’s spinning plates.

  The footage was lifted from the human media. Smoke coming out of the Ministry building. Emergency service vehicles blocking the streets. Never mind their plans for the Bartons – they’d gone right for the jugular. Lightgate had activated one of the Fae weapons that had never been put to rest. Early reports said it was a creature. There’d be bodies, with Lightgate involved. No way Pax would’ve gone in, was there?

  She should go – find her. These punks might give hot pursuit of the Bartons, but Pax needed her more –

  A noise disturbed Letty’s thoughts; men talking on the floor above. One of them called down: “Rolarn, you there?” Arnold.

  Letty stood, straightening out the hefty strap of her artificial wing, Rolarn’s shotgun ready across her waist. She kept close to the edge of the till, pretty much the only object in this massive room that would provide any cover.

  “Rolarn, talk to me, why aren’t you answering your phone?” Arnold demanded, angrily, as the dark shapes of him and his men floated into view from above. There had to be six or more of them: the Tupsom Trawlers.

  Here to do a job.

  “You brought the whole gang?” Letty called out to stop them. They hung in the air near the ceiling opening, all quiet as
they understood Rolarn wasn’t just being quiet.

  “Where’s the damn humans?” Arnold asked. “Letty, if you’ve –”

  “If I’ve what? Interrupted a seriously dumb idea?” Letty said. “How do you think this ends? We need those humans to take back the Sunken City.”

  “Sunken City shit,” Arnold sneered. “Where are you, Letty? Get a light on.”

  “Sunken City shit,” Letty echoed, quietly. Was she the only person who gave a damn about their heritage? The only one that wanted a return to something respectable? Of course, this lot hadn’t ever known respectable. She called out, “The humans are gone, you should be too.”

  “You damn idiot!” Arnold snarled. “This is our chance – we’re taking our place –”

  “Your place is the gutter! What the fuck is there to aspire to, if not the Sunken City?”

  “The FTC!” Arnold raised his voice, quick to anger, and his boys joined in with snarls of agreement. “It’s time someone with true Fae blood took charge.”

  “The FTC?” Letty shouted, her own temper rising. “Who wants the FTC? You genital wart, you wanna die trying to dominate a consolation prize?”

  The gang went quiet. They’d come here suspecting something, no doubt, but couldn’t have expected to have to face her. Please, Letty silently begged, give it the fuck up and go home. “You all know who I am. You want trouble, I’ve got it for you. But the last thing any of us need is more dead Fae.”

  Silence again.

  “We got no beef with you, Letty,” Arnold told her. A little cautious. “We just want the humans. Things are moving – promises been made.”

  “Like what? Kill a human and your three wishes come true?”

  “Only one wish. We get people to take up arms against Val. She’s been denouncing them, but things are going crazy. They set the turnbold loose – you heard that? The humans show up dead now, at Val’s hand –”

  “They show up alive and Val’s in the shit.”