Cancel them out with a fearsome short-circuit.
The screens pulsed in realisation as the charge hit the minotaur’s foremost limb and rolled through it. None of them was fast enough to detach from its suckling position, as the room was filled with devastating white light. Time accelerated again, faster than before, playing catch-up, and the terrific energy that burst through the room hit Pax full force as she screamed.
Abandoning an approaching host of scuttling creatures, Casaria ran towards the sound. The walls shook around him, dust tumbling from the ceiling and cracks spreading like it might all come down. He ran, and ran, vaulting a hound that crossed his path. Around a corner, striking out as he passed a veering sickle, the thing moving in the opposite direction, afraid. Finally he skidded into a hallway filled with a deadly scent. It bit at his eyes, a wall of smell he had to fight his way through, the tunnels quaking about him. Barton on the floor, bleeding, wheezing. Casaria ran past to reach Pax in darkness.
Pax, lying on her back, one arm out to the side with the discarded Fae weapon. The other on her stomach, fingers twitching – not with life, but being pushed, a fairy trapped within fighting her way out. Letty squirmed her way free of Pax’s hand to look up at Casaria. She snarled, “Stop gawking and save her while I finish the rest of those fuckers.”
16
The ground quaked, rattling Sam off her perch on a step. It shook for a full minute as Sam and Holly moved away from the stairs, garage door rattling. As the world rumbled gradually to a standstill, the sounds of the Sunken City were quietened. The remaining shrieks and groans came with a questing quality.
Then a horrific smell burst out from the tunnel, making Sam gag and cover her face. Somewhere between rotting meat and burnt hair. She coughed on the fumes. A monster screeched with murderous rage.
Flynt shuddered as though he could shake off the smell, and said, “That’s it. That’s got to be it.”
The radio crackled. Obrington: “Did you do it, Pax?”
The answer came from Casaria. “It’s gone – Pax –”
“I – I need to go,” Flynt said, drawing a miniature pistol. Despite his frightened tone, he flew into the tunnels. Sam watched as Rufaizu ran after the fairy, whooping like a jester, “With you, I’m with you!”
A moment later, the sound of a firecracker cut short a horrible groan.
Somewhere further away, Letty’s voice screamed insults.
Holly met Sam’s eyes with quiet, frightened wonder. “What now?”
Sam had no answer.
One by one, as the sounds died away, the agents exited via the tunnel, and the garage became increasingly tight. Three of the new agents left with little to say for themselves, consummate professionals even as they were plastered with burn marks and blood. One came out shaking, wide eyes filled with fear as he collapsed against the rear wall. Landon arrived and went to comfort him, after checking Sam was okay. The agent who’d been making all the noise came next, erratically recounting all they’d been through. “Should’ve seen them – worst I’ve seen – just kept coming –”
Obrington calmed him down with a few brotherly pats on the back, his presence carrying an air of steadiness. He leant against a wall himself, though, and exhaled tremendous relief. His left hand was covered in blood, dripping at a terrible rate. When Sam approached him he dismissed her. “The girl comes first.”
Casaria and Barton carried Pax up, each under an arm.
Her skin was dark, marred all over by something like ash, her clothes singed. Her head rolled forwards, no support from her neck, her feet dragging along the floor. Sam and Holly leapt towards her together, taking her from the men, lowering her.
“She’s breathing,” Barton assured. “It’s okay, she’s breathing.”
Nothing about her looked okay.
Sam crouched to check her face, lifted her head from behind, tried to open an eye. It rolled in the socket, away from her, then back.
“We got a medic?” Casaria demanded. “Where’s our fucking medic?”
“Outside,” Obrington said, listing towards the garage door. He grumbled, betraying anxiety, as he opened the door. “The fuck did she do? I thought she had this covered.”
“Fuck you, why wasn’t someone with her?” Casaria frantically answered. “You all went down – didn’t even consult me, left her with a fucking civilian!”
Obrington’s eyes warned him off, but he said nothing.
“Easy,” Barton said, a hand on Casaria’s arm. Telling him it was done, over. Obrington waved to an ambulance outside and two paramedics hurried forwards.
Casaria watched, quiet for a moment, tears on his cheeks. As they passed him, his eyes were drawn to Sam. He hissed, “You let her do this. Her? I could’ve handled it, you knew –”
“This was her plan,” Obrington said, as the paramedics crouched. “Kuranes chose this. But everyone – you did a fantastic job.”
Sam stared, not so sure how fantastic any job could be that left a young woman in a state like that. The paramedics were fast at work, checking her vitals, getting her in the right position, reporting to one another.
“Should’ve been me,” Casaria said, almost in a whimper, circling them. Sam regarded him uncertainly, no idea what to do, what to say, until she caught the eye of one of Obrington’s grim agents over Casaria’s shoulder. She nodded to him, do something, and the man obliged.
Marks nudged Casaria, and he flinched from the touch but calmed when he regarded the scarred man with some kind of recognition. The agent whispered something Sam didn’t catch, but the gist was clear. We’ve done our bit, time to let them do theirs. The fellow agent’s assurance somehow settled Casaria, as he looked beyond Marks to the rest of them, blackened with blood and burns, a host of people who’d given their all.
“You did great,” Sam whispered her own summary. “You all did.”
Barton tightened his grip around Holly as they watched Pax.
“She’s alive,” the lead paramedic said. Big bushy ginger beard, Scottish accent – Sam recognised him. But his face was not reassuring. “Got a strong pulse, responsive. Superficial burns.”
“But . . .” Sam prompted.
“But, you tell me.” He pulled up Pax’s top, around her midriff. Lines snaked over her gut with the clawlike spread of varicose veins. Gently glowing, under the skin. A string of curses went through the garage as the medic said, “I don’t know what that is – what to do about it –” Even as he spoke, the glowing faded. The light dimmed as though being absorbed back into her body. An illusion that was never there. “What the hell happened to her?”
“We won,” Pax rasped, with effort.
Everyone surged towards her as one, to embrace her, thank her, touch her, anything, but Obrington forced them all back with a quick, sharp command: “Give her space, for pity’s sake! Pax. You’re still with us. You sure it’s done?”
Pax considered it, barely opening her eyes, then nodded.
“How do you feel?” Sam asked.
“Probably worse than I look,” she answered wearily. She drooped back into the ground. “I’d like to go home.”
Casaria tried to approach again, but Marks stayed him with a hand. Not now.
“I’ve done for them,” Letty shouted, speeding breathless up the tunnel. “You’d better have fucking done for her.”
The crowd parted around her as she flew into its centre, face and clothes awash with blood. She ignored the startled medics and agents to hover down to Pax, chest heaving, shaking with violent energy. “Fuck – they did a number on you.”
Pax raised a creaking hand, offering a thumbs-up, and said quietly, “I’m fine.”
Letty stared, a furious moment. Then her gory face stretched to a smile. “Fine, she says. Someone take a photo. Call the press. Pax: gets fried, pretends she’s okay with it.”
Pax turned her hand and raised her middle finger instead.
Epilogue
From the notes of Holly Barton:
; In the two months since Rufaizu first walked into Pax’s life, everything had changed, and yet Ordshaw remained mostly the same. With a final set of tremors to complement the series that had already shaken the city, the MEE, under Sam Ward’s guidance, came clean. Under the guise of a proxy gas company. They explained that an old, disused system of tunnels and pipelines had been breached during routine explorations. Once blame had been duly assigned, the big story became the City Council’s talks to sell a small section of the tunnel system to a nightclub owner, to enliven Ordshaw’s South Bank and bolster the city’s coffers. With those promises, people lost interest in exactly where these tunnels came from, generally assuming they formed part of an abandoned third metro line.
Sam Ward managed a meticulous cleansing of the tunnel system, ensuring all the vicious phenomena were removed. The task was smaller than anyone imagined, thanks to the help of bands of roaming Fae and the unexpected widespread decline in the health of the creatures underground, once the praelucente (minotaur / berserker) was gone.
And it was, assuredly, gone. The Ministry’s scans showed no further “novisan” surges. With that settled, Acting Deputy Director Obrington passed his position back to Sam. Deservedly so, he said, though he hoped to see her in London one day, where she could be put “to real use”. She was happy to stay in Ordshaw for the time being, now the Fae were talking to her, and it appeared that the city was due some exciting changes. She became the Ministry’s youngest ever (and only female) regional director.
Communication with the Fae remained limited, but even the slightest trickles were milestones. They entered into quiet negotiations about which parts of the Sunken City the Ministry were willing to trade off, and made agreements as to the Fae’s behaviour in society at large. Generally, the status quo of we leave each other alone was properly ratified through MEE Management and Parliament. Things moved slowly due to the Fae having their own issues to resolve: it was understood that a new voting system was established to bring in a more democratic leadership. The MEE’s Raleigh Commission, meanwhile, was decommissioned, and the director, Lord Tarrington, established a new governing body with better vetting. The first point of order was to decide a title and structure for this group, which was to be workshopped by the following spring.
That suited Sam Ward and Ordshaw just fine. She was left with general command of the Ordshaw Ministry, which was more than occupied with unravelling the complex background of the Sunken City. She kept the Barton family involved in this, as they had all proved themselves to be potential Ministry material – even the daughter might be considered once she came of age (should her mother allow it). Darren was happy to convalesce for a time, returning to his ordinary life, but Holly proved less passive. She valiantly took charge of documenting and analysing Apothel’s book in her spare time, and became a frequent visitor to both the Ministry office and botanist Dr Mandy Rimes’ renovated telegraph station. Between these visits and extensive research, with guidance from the eternally grateful Ministry, Holly began drafting accounts of events that would prove both entertaining and educational. She insisted that, given time, her husband would be happy to offer his full input, too. He was just being bull-headed as usual.
Rufaizu also accepted a Ministry offer, once it was made clear no one wanted to kill him. He came to their offices to receive general tuition and guidance in applying for a job, but despite Holly’s best efforts to civilise the boy, his old habits resurfaced after things quietened down. One evening, he didn’t return to the Bartons’ house, and a rumour emerged that he had stolen from someone in West Quay. A letter arrived quashing everyone’s worst fears, written in his familiar scrawl; he thanked the Bartons for their hospitality and informed them that he had “found ghouls behind Iceland”. It was postmarked from York.
Agent Landon, the man Ward credited with the most world-weary knowledge amongst her staff, and an infrequent contributor to Holly’s tireless accounts, claimed the Ministry had no interests in Iceland. However, he did reveal a general knowledge of more widespread activities that Sam Ward suspected existed beyond Ordshaw. He couldn’t say exactly what was going on around the world, only where it was happening. Many international hotspots, including known Fae locations, have drawn MEE attention, but to our knowledge a bigger, clearer picture is yet to be drawn.
Against such concerns, Sam Ward began her own investigations (with specialist support from Holly, experienced in such matters after years toiling in offices) into the Ministry’s wider interests. A chief question was how the big corporations were encroaching on their work. Ward had had only the smallest glimpse of Duvcorp’s capabilities, but it was enough to worry her, and Obrington’s parting advice was that she steer well clear of them in future. So, she made attempts to touch base with the company, but they pleaded ignorance regarding all concerns she raised and insisted that she had never had a meeting with their COO. When she raised this with Management, they echoed the attitudes she’d previously encountered surrounding the Fae and the Sunken City. It was above her pay grade. Ward vented frustrations about this to Cano Casaria, and he suggested they break into the Duvcorp offices and see for themselves what was going on.
Casaria had many such suggestions, which for the most part were, as Ward had come to understand, his way of saying he was up for whatever tasks might be thrown at him. Eager to prove himself, he had the enthusiasm of a loyal dog. Yes, he was still awkward, and mostly antisocial, and no, Ward had not encouraged his clear infatuation with her; but something in him had changed, leaving him somehow more desperate to please. Perhaps he regretted that his more unruly behaviour had cost him a chance to actually be a hero. Or perhaps he simply, finally, understood his place in the grand scheme of things. On one occasion, Ward told him he’d done good work and he was later heard crying quietly in the toilets. Much as Ward wanted to better understand what he was going through, she didn’t want it quite enough to get closer to him. It would come with time, she imagined.
Or it wouldn’t.
There were bigger, more important enigmas for her to unravel.
Chief amongst them was how to handle our dear Pax.
Pax huffed as she dropped onto the bench, finally. Sweat ran down her back and her face had to be red as a beet. It didn’t help to hear Letty laughing at her discomfort. “You bloody walk it, instead of flying, see how you feel.”
“I could walk it a thousand times over, the time it takes you,” Letty answered, landing on Pax’s knee. She pointed at Sam Ward. “You’ve got a long way to go before reaching this robot’s standards.”
Ward smiled guiltily back, standing off to the side, pretending to admire the view.
The view was impressive: Black Crest offered an incredible vista of the Drumdon Hills and Ordshaw combined. The climb was a hundred times worse than Pax’s little hill in Weirway Park, which she now appreciated barely constituted exercise. She would never motivate herself to come here alone. But in this company, she was exposed to a new perspective: sweeping greens and oranges and a city as contained at this distance as the FTC had been up close. Still, out of breath and irritated that the others weren’t, Pax preferred not to admit it was worth it. “I could see this on the internet.”
“It’s not the same,” Ward replied. She always bit at such comments, and Letty always shared a knowing smirk with Pax when she did. Obvious enough for the Ministry lady to notice, otherwise where would be the fun? Ward caught them smiling and said, “Well you’re getting much better, anyway. We only stopped once this time.”
“When I get all the way up in one,” Pax said, “do we get to never do it again?”
“Grow a pair,” Letty said. “Hark at Ordshaw’s champion, eats fireballs for breakfast but runs scared at gentle inclines.”
Pax went to poke her and Letty hopped out of the way, staying close enough to punch playfully back at her finger. The fairy floated up in front of her face.
“In all honesty,” Ward said, “I hope you’ll stick at it. You’re doing so well. You know how m
uch potential you have?”
Pax eyed her warily. Another veiled suggestion that she delve back into the life that had left her twice burnt to a crisp. Made her a murderer of monsters and fairies and a deposer of corrupt regimes. Given her some kind of psychic gift, now dormant, and a modest drip of disability pay that was close to dry. As if being able to climb a hill would make her more likely to survive any easier in future.
“I’m thinking about it,” Pax said. And it was true. She was considering that she definitely did not want a boss, nor to wear a suit to work, nor to write reports for anyone or do any work for people who would knowingly withhold information from her. Nor did she want to stick to work hours, or be expected to be somewhere at certain times, or talk in a certain way or anything like that. But the problem was, she also found it hard to sit at the card table, day in and day out, without her mind wandering. Like, maybe making a living wasn’t enough. And Ward assured her of compensations: leeway with certain workplace demands, and a steady pay she could shove in Dad’s face. But much more than that. Answers. More excitement than hitting a Royal Flush. People cheering her name, desperate for her to save them?
Part of that made her cringe, but then it also gave some queer warm feeling.
She’d saved this city from something no one understood. She’d visited a city of Fae. Where did you go from that?
Letty’s visits to her apartment frequently reminded her of that conundrum. Letty had responsibilities of her own, what with the Fae expanding underground, with new towers going up and new enterprises emerging. That kept her from having too much time to spend goading Pax, but it also peppered their drinking sessions with weighted comments like, Making a difference feels orgasmic, doesn’t it?
The Sunken City Trilogy Page 98