“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, “Y
ou 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?”
“Physically,” Holly answered. “But I think everyone’s had quite enough.” She toed the old bit of advertising board on the floor. “We’re setting up camp here, are we?”
“Yeah,” Pax said. “We’ve got food, blankets, come see.”
Pax waited at the lip of the escalator as they filed past her, each giving her tired smiles. She couldn’t help smiling back. Letty hovered up to her as Pax said, “We made it through another day, huh?”
“Yeah,” Letty said. “And these pillocks set the woods on fire. Ministry almost had them. What the fuck are you wearing?”
Pax gave the clothes another look as Grace passed. New jeans (too tight), tennis shoes (too light), and a long-sleeved top (striped white and blue). Was it that bad?
“You look like a catalogue model for sad single mums,” Letty confirmed. “Revelling in mediocrity.”
“I think it’s good,” Grace whispered, in an uncertain voice that hinted the opposite. She hesitated in front of Pax, worried eyes wanting for something, and Pax gave her another smile. Awkward this time. The teenager jumped forward and hugged her. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”
Pax seized up, looking at Letty over the girl’s shoulder. The fairy smirked at her discomfort. Grace let go and quickly continued down the stairs.
“Are you okay?” Letty said. She’d last seen Pax keeling over outside the burnt house, hadn’t she? As Pax struggled for how best to explain, Barton’s booming voice saved her the trouble.
“We have to share breathing space with him?”
Casaria replied with something Pax didn’t catch. She gave Letty a shrug and raced down the steps to intervene. The Bartons had bunched at the bottom of the escalator, blocking her way.
“Alright, he’s with us now!” Pax insisted, pushing through. “Come over – sit down.”
Casaria leered as he leaned against a pillar, seeming to enjoy the concern on the Bartons’ faces. He looked sinister, between the light of Rolarn’s lantern and the unnatural luminescence of the jar of glo Pax had retrieved from the bike. Pax directed the Bartons to the blanket padding she’d arranged on the floor, away from Casaria, as Letty hovered above, eyeing him, too. Pax asked, “Where’s Lightgate?”
“Who?” Barton said. “How many of these bastards have you been courting?”
“Don’t insult me,” Casaria said, “by association with these wretched insects.”
Pax tried to move swiftly on. “Lightgate is another Fae, with concerns about the Ministry and the Fae leadership. She’s working with Rolarn here – it’s his place. There’s Arnold, somewhere, too, but apparently he’s busy. Which is no great loss.” Pax gave Rolarn a knowing look. The plump fairy shook his head. “Anyway – they can protect us.”
“If you can help us fuck the system.” Lightgate’s voice came from the escalator. She floated into view with her hands on her pistols like a Wild West sheriff looking for trouble. Her focus rested on Barton. “Welcome to my sanctuary.” She flew through the room, looking over each human in turn. “You will be fed. Sheltered. And you will like it.”
She landed on the till, staggering a few steps on the landing, marring the smooth entrance. As she pivoted on one leg, for a moment it looked like she might fall over. But she steadied, spreading her arms like this display was something to be proud of.
“Jesus Christ,” Pax said, under her breath.
Rolarn, stood by the lantern, watched Lightgate with unhappily folded arms. This was, of course, his sanctuary. But he didn’t complain, letting her continue, “And yes, Arnold and his boys won’t be joining us. Hopefully we won’t need them, because Pax has a plan. Don’t you?”
The Bartons were watching her, with Rimes awkwardly looking for a space behind them. Letty settled onto Pax’s shoulder and said, “It’s like you’ve rustled up an ensemble superhero team. Except made up of the shit heroes licensed in the public domain.” She shifted closer, lowering her voice. “And you need to tell me what’s up with you.”
“I’m fine.” Pax forced a smile, and Letty stared up at her, looking for more. Now that they were all here, waiting for her plan, it was no time to explain her psychic spasms, nor that she’d seen herself glowing. It’d only distract them. They needed a way forward. She did too. She said, “We’ll talk later, okay?” then turned to the others.
“Okay,” Pax said. “For starters, we are safe here. I think.” She gave Rolarn a look, and the fairy nodded like it was obvious. “And the next bit doesn’t need to involve any of you. This man here has agreed to help us.” She gestured towards Casaria.
The Bartons regarded Casaria with wary scowls, even Grace, as Casaria smirked back. None of them said anything, apparently trusting that Pax knew what she was doing.
“We’re gonna get Rufaizu back,” Pax said, then pointed to Lightgate, “and the Fae weapon, too. With what Rufaizu knows, we’ll figure out this Blue Angel, and with the Dispenser, Lightgate and her people can convince the Fae that we’re not their enemy.”
“How?” Barton said. “The Fae leadership wanted us silenced.”
“It’s high time the Fae people questioned the leadership.” Lightgate rolled a hand to one side. “They lied about the weapon. That’s the point. Right, Letty?”
Barton slowly took his distrusting gaze from one fairy to settle equally suspiciously on the other. Letty regarded Lightgate warily, but said, “If you say so. It’s here nor there. We get the Dispenser back in our hands, we can end that fucking berserker.”
“This is going be fun,” Lightgate concluded.
“Sorry,” Holly cut in, “but that’s our plan? Relying on her, who – no offence – I have no idea who she is, and” – she eyed Casaria – “relying on him? I thought he was stabbed?”
“It was nothing,” Casaria said, lifting his shirt to demonstrate the grim mess of his crudely sealed knife wound. Grace gasped and Holly shielded her daughter from the view.
Pax tapped the jar of glowing liquid on the counter. “This helped, apparently.”
“Or not,” Casaria said. “I probably could have walked it off.”
“With all the effort in the world,” Pax shot back, “you might’ve crawled into a gutter.” She hurried on, “But he’s up, as long as this liquid isn’t a temporary fix. Your foot’s alright, Darren? Not gone black and dropped off?”
Barton lifted his injured leg, outstretched on the floor. The bandaging was dark from being dragged through Ordshaw, falling apart at the seams. “Still there.”
“Is it magic?” Grace asked, fully serious, and Holly responded with pity, “Honey.”
“Accelerated healing,” Rimes said, her voice distant. She was engaging on some kind of autopilot, while her eyes fixed with unblinking wonder on Lightgate and Rolarn. “The body can heal itself, given the right conditions. You were able – able to stuff the wound.” She nodded to Casaria’s hideously soiled shirt.
“Yeah,” Pax said, as Lightgate blew Rimes a kiss. The doctor flinched.
“You’ll need more,” Barton said.
“I’m not touching another drop of that poison,” Casaria replied at once.
“That ‘poison’ gives us the means to stop what’s going on in the Sunken City,” Barton said. “Without it, we might as well rely on the Ministry; they can’t see the world for what it really is, and it’s left them doing the exact opposite of what’s necessary.”
“Actually,” Pax said, “I’m leaning towards Casaria’s view. I’d rather not rely on this liquid, not knowing exactly what it is or what it does.”
Barton gave her a cold look. “It makes sense of all that’s down there, that’s what it does. Even the Fae – their trails light up in the sky.”
“Trails?” Letty said, spinning to jab her arse his way. “You see any trails? We look like slugs? Fuck off.”
“Take a sip, you don’t believe me,” Barton said.
“I believe you,” Pax sighed, though she wished she didn’t. “It works. Doesn’t mean I trust it. Or the things it helps you see.”
Barton’s glare softened. “You tried it yourself?”
Blue Angel Page 21