The confusion on Ward’s face doubled, but she didn’t question it. “I’ll make it happen. But you’ll tell me everything, won’t you?”
“Yeah.” Pax still hesitated. With the Bartons accounted for, and at least some assurances from the MEE, she needed to share her final suspicions, didn’t she? Everyone else could walk away, but she couldn’t, not with this weighing on her. She pointed at the church and said, “That thing in there, it wasn’t what we hoped it would be.”
Ward took a moment. “The grugulochs was diverting novisan, wasn’t it?”
“You should’ve seen that idiot monster. You wouldn’t believe something that dense could hide itself so well, playing everyone against each other.”
“Well,” Ward said. She certainly wanted to believe it. “A chameleon doesn’t need intelligence to change colour, does it?”
“You shouldn’t believe it.” Pax turned to Rufaizu. “What’d your dad tell you about the grugulochs?”
“Huh?” Rufaizu’s face was caught between eagerness at being asked and uncertainty at the question. “Papa never said nothing.”
“Never wrote it, either, did he?”
“Not that I saw,” Rufaizu said.
“You know why?”
Rufaizu ventured, “Didn’t know it?”
Ward’s deepening frown looked in danger of leaving permanent creases. She said, “It was in the book. The only word in the chapel –”
“I never saw that word in Apothel’s book,” Pax said. “And it wasn’t Apothel that defaced the chapel, or left that word there. Here’s another one: you ever see a creature like we encountered in that chapel? That acid slug.”
Ward shook her head.
“No, and if you’d seen what I encountered getting some glo, you wouldn’t have recognised that either. I bet you no one” – Pax pointed to the church – “no one has seen that creature before.”
“Blue Angel keeps hidden,” Rufaizu said, “that’s what he does best.”
“The Blue Angel doesn’t exist,” Pax said. She let the pair of them stew on that for a moment. “Not in the sense we’ve been chasing. You’re right, though, hiding is definitely what it does best. What better way than this?”
Their eyes all ran back to the church. Two men were carrying some big lump wrapped in black plastic between them, part of the monster for studying.
Pax explained, “I think I sensed it before we got here. It was too easy, us finding the creature like this. I hoped it was that the Angel got cocky, or sloppy. But when I looked that thing in the eye, and I felt the energy of that room, there was no denying it. We found that thing because we were supposed to. It wasn’t the Blue Angel – but the blue screens were there. And they can do a hell of a lot more than write on walls. More than transporting things like glo and creatures, too. These creatures weren’t there before, weren’t anywhere...”
Pax took a breath. Now she’d said it, she knew in her gut it was right. “The blue screens can change the shapes of walls. They defaced that chapel themselves, and changed the writing on the paper in your office, too. Your faxes, Apothel’s Miscellany even. They planted the word grugulochs. They sent out the sound this thing was making through their screens. They put all this out there to make you think you’d found them. But what we found was another distraction they’d designed. A totem.”
“No...” Ward said.
“No way!” Rufaizu said, decidedly more enthusiastic. “The hunt’s still on.”
“No, that’s not what this is,” Ward persisted. “The Fae weapon weakened it and it let out these noises in pain, it –”
“The Fae weapon,” Pax said, “hurt the minotaur, but it wasn’t drawing energy to recover. These things used that energy more acutely. These random bursts have occurred when these new creatures have appeared. I felt it, trust me.”
“How?”
“This thing got me, alright?” Pax said. “I’m hooked into their network, whatever – what’s important is they were doing something with that energy. They might have been transporting stuff through those blue screens – but I think it’s worse than that. I think they created those creatures you’d never seen.”
“Created?” Ward almost laughed, but Pax kept a serious face, to impose this tough conclusion on her. It was unreal, but it made sense, considering the ill-formed nature of the slug creature, and that glutinous mass on Chaucer Crescent. Especially when considering the grugulochs itself.
Pax continued, “Who knows what they’re capable of, or what they even are. But I’m getting an idea, and it’s not one mastermind you’re dealing with. It’s a whole host of these things. I’ve felt them, moving in the walls, part of the blue screens themselves. They were throwing every trick they had at me because they knew I saw them, suckling at that light monster’s teat. They scrambled to give us an answer that would draw attention away from the fact that they were right there, on display. The blue screens themselves.”
“And we chased their clues to a totem?” Ward sounded more impressed than upset.
“Towards the truth,” Pax said. “You have an advantage right now. The grugulochs is dead – if it takes the blame, they’ll think they got away with it. You can find them without them actively trying to throw you off the scent.”
Ward looked towards her men. Casaria was saying something to Landon, who was leaning stiffly away, trying to ignore the man’s existence. “Clearly, Pax, you’re better equipped to deal with this than most of my staff. You’ll work with us, won’t you?”
“I’ve done my bit,” Pax replied. “I only want Letty back – the rest of this is on you.”
“You’d leave this hanging over our city? Where would we start? You at least have some insight –”
“You start,” Pax said, exhausted by it even needing to be said, “by talking to each other. Open a real dialogue with the Fae, share what you know, and figure out how to obliterate these fuckers together.”
Ward hesitated. “It’s not that simple, and we’re on a knife-edge after today. You know them. I don’t believe you’ll just walk away.”
Pax held Ward’s gaze, trying to implore her to back off just by looking at her.
Ward stared straight back.
Rufaizu beamed happily, drawing his own conclusion: “Barfly’s gonna kick Blue Angel’s arse.”
Epilogue
Bright, blinding light.
Dull shapes moving. The taste of plastic, an ache around it. Jaw wide open, wide as it would go. Something in it. All the way down. A long, loud puff of air. A whirring, expanding apparatus.
No other pain than the jaw ache. Head swimming. Body bloated.
“She’s coming around.” A man’s voice. Factual.
“Let me past, come on.” Another man. Familiar. A pillar of darkness sliding into the centre of the light. Fuzzy. Vibrating. “Can you hear me? Letty, can you hear me?”
A thinner shape moving from side to side before it. Pendulum motion, testing her vision.
“You expect her to say yes?” The first voice again.
“Letty. You know who I am?” The dolt actually waiting for an answer. “We met earlier today. Very briefly. I’ve taken a big interest in what you’ve been up to. I want you to know we didn’t agree to any of this.”
She tried to grunt, to work the words around the horrendous tube.
“What’s she saying?”
She tried louder. Tried to lift her chest to get the words out. Couldn’t move.
“You’re agitating her. Give her some space.”
“Letty. Do you know where you are? A lot’s changed since you left, and after – well – now, there’s no going back. We need you. We need to build on what you started.”
Trying again, louder, but still muffled.
“Can we let her speak? Get that out of her mouth? Letty, we’re going to do everything we can to help you. We can do great things together.”
One more time. Getting her lips wide of the pipe.
Making it clear, even if it was muf
fled.
Fuck.
Off.
With the satisfying silence it brought, she sank back into the bed and closed her eyes. Let the machine breathe for her.
Enjoyed Reading?
If you enjoyed Blue Angel, stick around. The story continues with the final chapter in the Sunken City trilogy, The Violent Fae – out soon. To be the first to hear about its release, be sure to join my mailing list here.
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About the Author
Phil Williams is the author of the Ordshaw, Estalia and Faergrowe series. Living in Sussex, UK with his wife, he also writes English guides for foreign learners and spends a great deal of time walking his impossibly fluffy dog, Herbert. You can find him online at:
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Also by Phil Williams...
Wixon’s Day (Estalia Series)
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Aftan Whispers (Estalia Series)
As the days grow darker in the Estalian Empire, young Tyler stays positive by helping others. But when he meets a girl on the run with enemies in the highest places, Tyler's life gets complicated fast. Deni isn't afraid to kill, and she’s got a secret that could tear apart the sky.
In a mortal chase that takes them from a besieged city across the war-torn countryside, Tyler soon discovers that the Empire’s guardians are their most dangerous foe. Worse still, Deni is faced with a terrible choice: remain hidden and save herself - or expose herself to prevent the oncoming darkness.
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Balfair’s Confinement (Estalia Series)
The novella that started Deni’s journey.
Isolated in the derelict estate of the engineer Balfair, with only a miserable fellow slave for company, Deni dreams of changing her arduous life. When her master drags something new from the swamp and excludes her from his secretive project, she finally sees her chance. Deni will do whatever it takes to break free - even if it means bringing the full weight of the war-mongering Guard down on Balfair.
The results may be devastating, but they will notice her at last - and she will be free.
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Acknowledgements
Blue Angel is the result of work that started long before Under Ordshaw, and all the thanks due to that first book in the series are due again here. In particular, this book has taken shape through the diligent help of my excellent editor Carrie O’Grady, and thanks to the eager support of Ordshaw’s readers. Also thanks to Stuart Bache, an excellent cover designer whose tuition and feedback helped me develop the style of the Ordshaw covers.
And as always, thanks to my wife, Marta, who continues to tolerate me staring blankly into space as I try and make sense of the labyrinth of my imagination.
Copyright
Copyright © 2019 by Phil Williams
The moral right of Phil Williams to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover design by P. Williams
Published by Rumian Publishing
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