So Below: The Trilogy

by Matt Whyman

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Otto asks Aleister. “A cheeseburger might stop me feeling so jet-lagged. My body clock is all over the place. Right now, it feels like breakfast and supper time all rolled into one.”

  “There’s a café in the crypt,” says Aleister, without turning his attention from the church. “But I suspect if I tell you what’s said to reside way below it you might well lose your appetite.”

  13

  A KERNEL OF TRUTH

  “Are you sitting comfortably?”

  Julius Grimaldi peers over his half-moon spectacles.

  “Not really,” mutters the girl perched on the edge of the table, “so let’s make this story quick.”

  Yoshi chooses to remain on his feet. He tries to hide a smile, but that’s not easy when caught up in the glow from Livia’s aura. “You should have more chairs around the table,” he suggests.

  Julius shrugs. “I share a bunker with street magicians,” he says, as if that explains everything. “Once they’ve coaxed a volunteer from the crowd, they have to seat them somewhere. Every time I order in new furniture, it always seems to vanish into thin air.”

  “Oh,” says Yoshi, sounding a little baffled. “Right.”

  At this, the glow shining on one side of his face seems to sharpen. Julius notices it, and finds Livia staring right at him.

  “This story you have for us,” she reminds him. “I think it’s time you began.”

  “Very well.” Julius clears his throat. “The seventh waypoint in the Faerie Ring lies under a Hawksmoor church that has recently become a place of worship for the arts. Despite this, the keystone within its foundations remains off limits for good reason. Not only is it practically impossible to reach, thanks to a minor earth tremor in the bedrock many moons ago, but beyond the chasm it created is said to exist a tribe of troglodytes.”

  “Troglo-whats?” Yoshi looks as amused as he is intrigued.

  “Underground dwellers.” This is Livia, checking her nails as she speaks. “Why do I think I might have heard this one before?”

  Julius nods, like he was expecting to hear this. “Because, my dear, it’s an urban legend common to almost every major city in the world. These are the universal themes: It begins with a band of desperados, clamouring to escape some apocalyptic event in history. It’s usually fire, plague, invasion or flood, but in every case they have no choice but to go to ground . . . and stay there. Some stories will maintain these poor souls are sealed in by an unexpected calamity. Other versions claim they stay there by choice for fear of what might happen if they surface. Either way, they survive by forcing themselves to forage in the sewers and even rear what livestock happens to fall into their hands.”

  “Livestock?” Livia glances at Yoshi. “Under London?”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what finds its way into the system. All that effluent and waste is rich in nutrients, after all. Anything could survive in this environment, and that’s exactly what happens to these poor unfortunates. Slowly, over time, they adapt until such inhuman conditions become second nature for them. Indeed, with interbreeding sentencing future generations to the same godforsaken existence, they don’t so much evolve as de-volve. Their eyesight becomes redundant, living as they do in near darkness, while their sense of hearing and smell is said to give them pointed ears and snout-like noses. Without sunlight, and in such damp conditions, their skin pales and thickens into a kind of leathery hide. As for their language, according to many who have told the tale that corrupts into something quite guttural. Then there’s the way they move: all that scrabbling around in cramped spaces means they learn to move freely on all fours.”

  “That certainly sounds like a myth,” says Yoshi after a moment. “I’m not sure I believe a word of it.”

  “Every tall story that surfaces in a city must have roots in the truth,” repeats the old man. “Here in London, the tribe’s ancestors are said to date back to the Great Fire of London, when a band of slaughtermen and their wives tried to save themselves from being burned alive. Under the circumstances, it would make sense to shelter underground”

  “Well, the job title fits,” says Yoshi with a sigh. “Had you said florists or toymakers, it wouldn’t have made them sound half as scary.

  Livia hops off the table now. She turns to glance at the tunnel mouth at the far end of the space, and then comes back to face Julius once again. “So have you ever seen one? I think I’d need proof of their existence before I swallowed the story.”

  “Like most people who have attempted to track them down, the evidence depends on your capacity to believe. There are times, when I am close to the chasm in question, that I have heard something distinctly feral moving around on the other side. There have also been occasions when drifters have crept into the underground system in search of a quiet night’s sleep, only to come racing back up the escalators with ashen faces and a claim nobody believes.”

  Yoshi considers what he has just heard. He too turns to check the tunnel mouth. One of the furthermost lantern lights flickers unexpectedly, stirred by an incoming breeze. He comes back around, forgetting to blink for a moment. “I think if I was in a tube station ticket office at the time and someone came bounding up with this tale I’d find it too good to be true. Down here is different, though. Underground, it seems that anything is possible.”

  “And so it is. You really are learning fast. Had I told you at ground level that the final waypoint is lost to a subterranean tribe, you’d have dismissed me as a scaremonger. Instead,” says Julius, and levels his gaze at the boy, “I’m hoping I’ve spiked your imagination and sense of curiosity.”

  Yoshi steps back at this, as if he needs the space to take in what Julius has just suggested. He points at himself next, and turns to Livia to be sure that he heard him correctly.

  “You want me to go check it out?”

  “Not alone, of course. We’ll come with you.”

  “Wait a minute!” Livia cuts in. “What’s with the ‘we’?”

  “Your aura might have attracted unwanted attention for much of your life, my dear, but down here in the darker recesses it could be invaluable to us.”

  “Uh-uh.” Livia shakes her head, crossing her arms at the same time. “Light your own path.”

  For a moment, the old man looks crestfallen. “But you two are my only hope. Indeed, the future of the city depends on you. Right now, someone who shares your gift has access to the seventh waypoint. What’s more, it has now revealed itself to be the key to the entire ring. If whoever has laid their hands on that keystone is aware of what power they now command, we could be faced with very dark days ahead.”

  Yoshi considers what he has just said. Having once witnessed a mile-wide shadow sweep across the city rooftops, he knows that Julius isn’t making this up. The old man had directed his attention to it in a bid to prove that London really was under threat. If the protective powers of the Faerie Ring fell into the wrong hands, all manner of evil would sail unchecked into city life. The devil himself may not appear in person, according to Julius, but he would make his presence known instead through all manner of acts, from inciting riots to terrorist attacks. It would, in short, make London a hell on earth.

  “Very well,” he says with some uncertainty. “Show me this chasm.”

  “Good boy,” replies Julius, and rises from his chair. “We should make preparations right away. First I must find you a head torch. I keep a store of them here, should anyone ever wish to accompany me on a tour of the city underground. I do have some hard hats, although I find them rather cumbersome. So long as you keep your head down and your eyes open, we’ll get there in one piece.” He pauses there, choosing his next words carefully. “I’m afraid I can’t offer any protection against what we might encounter on arriving at our destination.”

  Yoshi frowns, wondering what this is all about. “Maybe you’d like to brief us?” he suggests.

  In response, as if dodging the question, Julius heads for a sea chest at the foot of one
of the bookshelves, “Oh, you know,” he says on the way, a little too breezily perhaps. “There’s always a chance we might come under attack.”

  “Attack?” repeats Livia. “You didn’t say these troglodytes were aggressive.”

  “And we don’t know that they are for sure,” he tells them, rooting around in the chest now. “But then you will be venturing into unknown territory. As they’ve kept their existence a secret from the world above for centuries now, we have to assume they might guard their domain by any means necessary.” There, he finds what he’s looking for, and smiles.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” says Yoshi, as the head torch is presented to him. “A beam of light is hardly going to protect me, after all.”

  “Very wise!” agrees Livia. “You can’t send him into the unknown like that, Julius. He might never come back!”

  The old man regards them both, considering what they have just said. “Very well,” he sighs after a moment, and collects the head torch from the boy. “I’ll go myself.”

  “But the chasm,” says Yoshi. “You’ve just told us it’s beyond your limits.”

  “And even if you are successful,” adds Livia, “what are you going to do once you’re there? The waypoint can only be activated by people with a psychic sense, and this isn’t something you possess.”

  “You’re right,” agrees Julius, stretching the band that holds the head torch in place. “All I have is a sense of duty as a citizen of this city.” He straps the band around his head next. The torch is made up of two small halogen lamps. They point out from his temples, which makes him look like some kind of hi-tech insect. When he tests them, they glow like white-hot coals. “I just can’t afford to let the ring fall into the wrong hands,” he tells them. “Even if the odds are stacked against me, I have to do something. Otherwise, the future for this city will be very bleak indeed.”

  14

  ALL YOU CAN EAT

  Silence greets Aleister, on winding up his version of the lost troglodytes tale. He had chosen not to tell Otto that the seventh waypoint was believed to be located within their lair, just as he neglected to mention the existence of the Faerie Ring itself. Aleister hadn’t invited him here for a crash course in the ancient forces cradling this city. Otto was here for a purpose, after all, which boiled down to flushing out Blaize and Scarlett. Besides, judging by the talent agent’s blank expression, even the bare bones of the story had clearly shot over his head. They’re standing on the pavement still, with traffic cutting both ways before the church on the other side. The brute tries to read the expression on Otto’s pasty face, but sees what appears to be a glaze in his eyes.

  “So,” says Aleister finally, mystified by his lack of response. “What do you think about a story like that?”

  This time, Otto Tempesta blinks back to life, and steers his attention around his guide’s broad shoulder. “I really think we should pick up something to eat. My stomach is so empty that every grumble echoes.”

  Aleister’s brow falls by a notch. It casts his glaring eyes in shadow. “Were you listening to a word I just said?” he whispers, barely able to hide his fury.

  “Sure,” replies Otto, still scoping out the burger bar just down from the church over there. “But I don’t believe a word of it. In my opinion, the only things you’re likely to find under a church crypt are rats and worms. Why would you want to go down there, anyway?”

  “Oh, I’d recommend a peek beneath the streets,” says Aleister, pleased at least to have him back on a recognisable wavelength. “Some say it’s the only way to really understand what makes a city tick.”

  “Is that so?” replies Otto, but is disappointed when Aleister declines to suggest a trip.

  Instead, the brute continues to admire the Hawksmoor church, with its towering obelisk spire. Banners for the orchestra hang from the front of the building, rippling like sails in a sea breeze.

  “The architect behind this church,” the brute says instead, “he understood this city better than anyone else.”

  “Oh, really.” Otto shifts his weight restlessly from one foot to another. This wasn’t the kind of tour he’d been holding out for on their search for the twins. Even so, Aleister seems so lost in thought that he declines to ask if they might move on to more familiar landmarks. Indeed, the brute is privately considering the storm that could erupt from the depths one day. Whatever was going on beneath this church, he thinks, somehow that all-elusive waypoint had been tested in recent days. For the sake of his designs for the city, it was vital that he laid claim to it and fast.

  A pointed cough reminds Aleister of the man he’s recruited to unwittingly help him in this bid. He glances at Otto, who’s now watching enviously as an open-top tour bus rumbles passed them. It’s a dispiriting sight, in view of the gravity of the situation. If only Otto’s presence here could draw the twins out of hiding, the brute could dispense of his services altogether. Just as soon as Blaize and Scarlett were back in the fold, his powers of persuasion would swiftly establish where the other runaway psychics were hiding. With Yoshi and Livia returned to the Foundation, as well as the twins, he would be just three recruits short of unlocking the ring. Such a prospect is enough to leave him grinning, even if it doesn’t last long.

  “Pardon me for being blunt,” says Otto finally, his patience worn away. “But we ain’t gonna find the twins inside some dusty old church. We need to be where it’s all happening, if you get my drift, and to do that I need some food inside my belly.”

  “Of course,” agrees Aleister, holding on to his smile to stop himself from snarling. Never before had he come across a father who put food before the welfare of his daughters, and used their predicament as a badly concealed excuse to see the city’s central attractions. It was times like this that he despaired for the human race.

  “Come on, Al,” reasons Otto now, and spreads both hands wide. “A quick snack and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Aleister considers the walk between here and the underground station. In his mind’s eye, he counts at least a dozen fast food outlets and foresees a scene outside each one. By his reckoning, what should take ten minutes could take them all day. Otto, meantime, has turned to wait for a break in the traffic so he can cross the street. The brute casts one eye at the burger bar, anxious to keep his hungry guest in the open. Otto was here to attract the attention of two runaway hotheads, after all, not some gormless youth behind a serving counter. Somehow, Aleister had to address the guy’s appetite and keep him as visible as possible.

  When the solution comes jogging up the street towards them, a genuine smile finally crosses Aleister’s face. For it was only in a cosmopolitan capital like this that you could find an Oriental rickshaw competing with the buses and the taxis. He raises his hand to stop the puffed-looking runner in the vest and bamboo hat, thinking this could be the answer to all his problems.

  “Might I suggest we eat once we reach Chinatown?” he offers. “The food in that quarter is second to none.”

  Otto turns to Aleister like he’s waiting for the punchline. He shifts his gaze to this hand-pulled, two-wheeled cart with a canopy, and then back to the brute in the white mink coat. “You want me to climb into that?”

  “Why not? It’s a fine way to see the sights, in my opinion. And if we ask this fellow nicely, I’m sure he’ll recommend a good place to pick up lunch when we arrive.”

  “But . . . but, everyone will stare!”

  “Exactly,” he breathes, and encourages Otto to squeeze on board. Once stationed in the cart himself, the brute leans forward to direct the poor soul struggling to level the handlebars. He’s even having difficulty keeping his feet on the ground, such is the weight of his load. Nevertheless, he finds what it takes when the brute offers, in fluent Mandarin, to tip him for every traffic camera they pass on the journey to their destination.

  15

  THE FUTURE IN A FORTUNE COOKIE

  Yoshi takes one look at the old man preparing to head out into the tunnel, and sa
ys: “I can’t let you go there alone.”

  Julius Grimaldi swings around, his twin head torches shining brighter than the lantern light. “Yoshi, last night I believe someone, or something, laid their hands on the keystone below St Luke’s. In doing so, they unleashed earth energy full circle around the Faerie Ring. Until then, I had believed this to be impossible without a psychic stationed at each of the seven waypoints. The one under St Luke’s is certainly inaccessible from above, but if it is the one to control them all then I have a duty to cross the subterranean divide surrounding it and ensure it’s in the right hands.”

  “But even if you navigate this chasm,” adds Livia, “there’s a good chance you’ll never come back. From what you’ve told us about these savages on the other side, you’ll never see the light of day again.”

  “Then I’ll just have to prepare for the worst.” Julius returns to the table to pick up maps and charts and a compass in a brass clamshell. He begins to stuff everything inside a canvas shoulder bag, watched by the two youngsters, only to look up smartly when the flywheel spins behind them.

  Yoshi turns, just as the hatch flips out and Billy No-Beard ducks through it. He’s carrying a silver tray, piled high with some kind of biscuit.

  “Look lively,” announces the Executive Deck Hand, addressing Yoshi and Livia. “I bring fortune cookies fresh from the galley oven. You took off before they were baked last night. Seeing that you also skipped breakfast this morning, and everyone else has abandoned ship for a day of rest and relaxation, I thought I’d bring a sample to you.” He rattles down the steps on his rollerblades now, with the tray balanced precariously in one hand. “I know, don’t tell me. I’m just too good for this place. What would you do without me, huh? Oh . . .” Billy comes to a halt midway across the stone floor, having taken in the scene before him. “Are you planning on an expedition?” he asks. “In the bunker guidelines it says I’m supposed to be informed of any absentees so I can order less for the catering.”