Relics

by Tim Lebbon

  Angela felt a vibration and checked her phone. A missed call from Lucy, but nothing else. She fingered the screen and brought up Dean’s number, thumb hovering as she debated whether to call him again. She was growing impatient, and desperate, but Lilou seemed to have more answers. She was one of them, and she’d suggested that she knew where Vince was. He’d saved her life, so surely she owed him.

  “Lilou,” she said softly, and the woman stood and turned around, tears streaking her face, eyes wide, pupils dilated and irises a shimmering shade of yellow. She blinked a few times and they returned to pale green, and between blinks the fox darted away. Seconds later it was as if the animal had never been there at all. It might have been a dream.

  Lilou came so close to Angela that she could smell her breath. It smelled wild.

  “She is the only important thing now,” Lilou said. “I’m sorry, Angela. The creature that has Vince knows we’re searching for him. He’s already killed one of the Seven, an old cousin of the fox I just conversed with.” She looked down, as if the thought caused her pain.

  “So what does that mean?”

  “It means my priorities have changed. We all believed Her gone for many, many years. But now we have to get Her back.”

  “The fairy?”

  “Yes. She’s much older and more powerful than any of us.” Lilou paused as if seeing a distant memory. “And as unknowable to us as we are to humans.”

  “Where has the fox gone?” Panic filled Angela now, simmering like acid in her gut.

  “To tell the others.” Distracted, Lilou stood and started walking along the canal path. Angela could only follow, jogging to keep up.

  “But what about Vince?”

  Lilou moved faster. Angela was almost sprinting now, even though the woman beside her wasn’t even breathing hard. The canal curved, a tall wall to their left swathed in brambles, ivy, and colourful graffiti. She reached out and grabbed Lilou’s arm, fingers digging in as she skidded to a halt.

  Lilou spun around, eyes wide. She seemed excited and energised, and it took a second for her to focus again.

  “He saved your life!” Angela said.

  Lilou nodded.

  “Where is he?” she demanded. “Please. I’m desperate here, and I have no idea what’s going on, or who you are, or what’s going to happen next. This isn’t my world. I don’t understand it, any of it. So you can’t just run away and leave me now, can’t just—”

  “I’m not going to leave you,” Lilou said. “I’ll look after you. But we’ll have to get Her back. We’ll wait until dark.”

  “Why?”

  “Some of the others don’t look quite as human as me.”

  “I don’t care!” Angela shouted. She looked around, hoping that she might cause a scene and force Lilou to take heed, but they were alone. The tall wall bounded one bank of the canal, and on the other side were the blank faces of old buildings, windows barred and smashed, stonework crumbling and damp. She was in the center of London, but she might as well have been nowhere. “Who’s got him?”

  “If you go alone, you’ll die.”

  “So fucking help me!”

  Lilou drifted away again, concentration focusing somewhere else. She started walking, and Angela matched her pace. As they walked she stroked her phone, fell back a few paces, and Dean picked up on the second ring.

  “Where is he?” she asked without preamble. “Where’s Vince?” She was whispering, watching Lilou a few paces ahead, but the strange woman seemed not to hear. She was too wrapped up in her own world. The world of fairies, and strange creatures slaughtered for fancies, exotic medicines, and dining clubs for the rich and grotesque.

  A fairy’s got to eat, Mary Rock had told her, and the wretched creature tracked her with sad, bottomless eyes as she walked from the room. A cell, Angela realised. I’m a fool for not seeing that before, but everything was so—

  “She was asking about a satyr,” Dean said. “Maybe that’s got something to do with where your chap is. I told her about an old pool, a place where people have seen and heard things.”

  “Where?” she hissed. A satyr! She had an image of one from old movies, and as that vision played in her mind and she saw it stamping down its hooves, she heard the terrible crunching sound from her dark street, and the patches on the tarmac the next day.

  “An old municipal pool, close to Tufnell Park. Been closed for decades. I’m on my way, maybe there’s—”

  Angela cut the connection. Her heart hammered. She was taking action, and now that she’d begun she would not stop. Lilou had come to her, after all.

  “He’s in Tufnell Park!” she shouted, and Lilou stopped and turned around. “I’m going to find him. Maybe I’ll call the police, or…” Or. Another possibility was already presenting itself to her.

  “You can’t go,” Lilou said.

  “Watch me!”

  “Ballus will kill you, and then he’ll kill Vince. He’s only holding him as bait, and when you turn up and he realises none of us are coming—”

  “He’s not fucking bait!” Angela shouted. She saw movement past Lilou now, a man and woman jogging toward them along the towpath. “He’s the man I love. I’ve been told so many lies about him, and by him, but I still love him, and I won’t just abandon him when he’s in danger.”

  Lilou looked torn. There was an excitement about her still, a wide-eyed wonder that would have looked more at home on a child’s face. But she also bore a heavy sadness.

  “Please,” Angela said. “I’ll help you rescue the fairy. I’ve seen her, I know where she is. I remember the room.”

  “Her scars,” Lilou said. “How old?”

  “Some of them looked fresh.”

  The couple jogged past them in a rush of lycra and sweat, and the man stumbled as he glanced back at Lilou. Then the woman. Her defenses were down. She was captivating, her beauty hypnotic, and Angela wondered about her and Vince. But there were only so many questions she could ask, and only so much pain she could endure.

  Now was not the time.

  “Mary Rock has been trying to kill Her,” Lilou whispered. She turned to the wall, sliced her finger against her left canine, and started daubing blood amongst the graffiti. Angela watched for a moment, making no sense of the symbols and letters darkening into the stone.

  “I’m going, with or without you,” she said. “I’ll get help. You can’t stop me.” Lilou appeared not to hear.

  Watching an unknown creature leaving an arcane message in blood, Angela dialed The Slaughterhouse and asked to speak with Fat Frederick Meloy.

  19

  She’s still alive.

  More than that, She was still here! In the world, with them, a part of this damned existence that their lives had inexorably become.

  Lilou could hardly believe it. She quizzed Angela more about the fairy, and there was no way this human woman could have made it up. She was speaking the truth. She had seen Her, and perhaps soon they could rescue Her from Mary Rock’s clutches.

  Once free, She could once again give Herself a name.

  For so long She had been nameless, little more than a memory within the Kin. They’d believed that She had died decades before, during the latest of the great wars that humanity seemed so keen to fight amongst themselves. No one knew how She was supposed to have died, and songs had been sung about the possibilities. Sad songs that stopped birds in their flight and made streams flow uphill. Tales had been formed and told, edged with uncertainty but solid in their intent. She had been among the best of them, and to lose Her had been one more step along the long, terrifying path toward extinction.

  Where had She been? Where had She remained hidden for so long, and why?

  How had Mary Rock managed to capture the fairy? These were important questions. The answers might inspire a dozen more songs, but right then the stark, wonderful fact of her survival was all that mattered.

  Mallian would be so excited. Just fifteen minutes ago Ballus had been their focus, and Lil
ou’s knowledge of where he might be would lead to conflict. Now that focus and emphasis had changed. Ballus had become an afterthought.

  Still, Angela might cause them a problem.

  “You can’t tell them what I am,” Lilou said.

  “What are you?” Angela asked.

  “A nymph,” Lilou answered, then she added, “A sexual creature. Not the last of my kind, but there aren’t many of us who remain.”

  She could see that the woman was bursting with questions, but everything about her was concentrated on getting her man back. Lilou could understand. Vince was a good person, with a solid heart. Angela was lucky.

  A moment of uncertainty surprised her. She remembered the two of them in his cell, the flush of passion and desire, the animal lust she inspired in him. Yet a nymph had no truck with guilt, not for something that came as naturally as breathing. Lilou smiled inwardly and shook her head. Maybe she was spending too much time among humans.

  “That’s him,” Angela said, pointing across the parking lot at the car that had just pulled up.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this,” Lilou said.

  “You promised. And he saved your life.”

  She sighed. In truth she was afraid, because she knew Ballus of old. He’d been a monster ever since she had known him, but back then at least he had still been one of them. Brutal, angry, probably already mad, he’d still had the same aims and ambitions as most of the Kin. Survival and peace.

  She wasn’t sure when he had begun to change.

  All she knew for certain was that it had not been gradual. His vicious murder of two of their kind, then his disappearance into the bowels of the city, had shaken everyone. Every rare life was precious, each death a tragedy, and the more of them who passed on, the more precious they became. There were so few left.

  Lilou believed they had already passed the point of no return, and that they were railing against fate and time. Other Kin also accepted it, that their fate was to fade away. A few wanted to rage against the dying of the light, but they all sang a song of sadness, and even those prone to struggle were desperate and forlorn.

  The Time when their ancestors had enjoyed dominion over the world was long gone. Their fate had been decided by history, and entropy, and the inevitability of moving on. Humanity would move on, too, and although as a civilisation it was still only young, they could all see the signs of its downfall and dissolution, blooming already.

  She wasn’t sure about Mallian. He bore an anger that blazed far hotter than good sense should allow. In a way he was the very opposite of Ballus. That mad satyr wanted to be the last of them. In Mallian’s unguarded moments, when he and Lilou lay together in sweat and fleeting instants of love, he professed a desire for the Kin to rise again.

  He even whispered a name, both title and intention.

  “Ascent,” he’d breathed into her ear, the word setting a seed of fear in her soul.

  But it was fear of Ballus that troubled her now. A fear that he would see her, kill her, and she would never see Mallian or the fairy again.

  “What is it that changed you?” Angela said. “Why is she so important?”

  “You couldn’t understand,” Lilou answered. Some of that was a lie, but she would never tell the human. There was too much at stake.

  “What’s her name?” Angela asked softly.

  “Whatever She chooses to call Herself,” Lilou said, “and that can change with every breath.” She watched four men climb from the car and made certain that she was shielding herself from the world. They’d been waiting for fifteen minutes, so she’d had long enough to compose herself, draw inward, present only that part of her that it was sensible to show.

  She had already arranged a place and a time to meet with Mallian, leaving news of the fairy’s survival painted in blood-speak. The message would be carried by any of the remaining Seven who saw it, and would appear instantly at nineteen other locations around the city. Lost in graffiti, the messages her kin left were soon washed away by weather and time.

  “I’m with you until this evening,” Lilou said. “I’ll help however I can. After that, you’re on your own.” Angela was wide-eyed but said nothing. She could see how serious the nymph was.

  Lilou hoped it was not a decision she would live to regret.

  * * *

  Angela wasn’t stupid. Academically she shone. She had a facility to absorb information and a power of recall that had always stood her in good stead. She was also as worldly wise as anyone like her could be. She hadn’t travelled extensively, had only ever lived in the USA and Britain, but she read a lot about the wider world. Her parents were quite liberal, and had encouraged her to grow into her own beliefs, rather than imposing theirs on her.

  She was nobody’s fool.

  Yet as Fat Frederick walked across the car park toward them, she wondered whether she was making the biggest mistake of her life.

  “Don’t worry,” Lilou said, picking up on her concerns. “I’ve dealt with people like this before. Most of them are harmless.”

  “Not this one.”

  Fat Frederick was close now, looking from Angela to Lilou. His gaze lingered longer on Lilou. Cliff was close behind him, and the two other men remained leaning on the Mercedes. The open-air parking lot was busy with people going about their own business, blind to anyone or anything else. A small group meeting close to the exit drew no attention.

  Fat Frederick grinned at her.

  She suddenly regretted calling him.

  “You said you might have something for me,” he said, eyeing Lilou up and down. Cliff stared at the nymph as if she was the only person there, his tongue flicking nervously at his lips, but Meloy’s expression hinted that he was sharper than she’d given him credit for.

  “Not for you,” Angela said. “I said I know where Vince is, and that’s for me.”

  Fat Frederick shrugged. The smile slipped into a confused frown as he stared at Lilou.

  “And who’s this?”

  “My name is Lilou. I’m Angela’s friend.”

  “Right. An old friend?”

  “Why?”

  “What’s her middle name?”

  He already knows we’re lying, Angela thought.

  “None of your business,” Lilou said, her voice dropping in tone, sultriness oozing through. Cliff blinked rapidly, but Fat Frederick seemed immune.

  “We know where he’s being kept,” Angela said, “and it’s dangerous. I couldn’t think of anyone else who might be able to help.”

  “Or be willing to,” Fat Frederick added.

  “Yeah, that too.”

  “Who’s holding him?” His gaze barely flickered from Lilou. He was appraising her, trying to see past her veneer. Meloy’s passion was his relics. If he learned that Lilou and others like her still existed, Angela had no idea how he would react, or how far he might go.

  As far as Mary Rock? Perhaps even further.

  “Someone called Ballus.”

  “Eastern European?”

  “Dunno,” Angela said, “and I don’t care. All I care about is Vince, and last time we met you seemed to care about him, too.”

  “Like I said, one of my best men.”

  “If we don’t get to him soon, Mary Rock might.”

  Meloy didn’t respond. He stared.

  “I’ve found out why she wants him so much,” Angela continued. “He killed two of her people. Ballus might sell him to Mary Rock. He’s a sort of bounty hunter. Apparently.” Still no reaction. Tales of death and murder might not be news for someone like Meloy.

  He took a step forward, invading Lilou’s personal space. He stared into her eyes. Sniffed at her mouth. It was strangely compelling, and disgusting. Perhaps it would intimidate anyone else, but Lilou seemed aloof.

  “Hey! Back off, Fat Freddy!” Angela’s heart hammered, but she felt curiously brave. He won’t hurt me, she thought. Then the next second she realised her mistake. She’d let her own sense of what was right buffer her against truly b
elieving what a man like this might do.

  He blinked slowly and turned to stare at her. She’d never been stared at like that before. Cool shock pulsed through her body.

  “Do you know what—?” he began, but then Lilou spoke. Her voice was low, the words barely even heard. Traffic noise, slamming doors, and the drone of a passenger jet trailing above the city strove to drown them out, but Fat Frederick heard, and that was all that mattered.

  “Hurt her,” she said, “and I’ll hurt you.”

  He stepped back, confusion evident on his face as he and his bodyguard reeled.

  “Who the hell are you?” Meloy managed to ask.

  “Don’t you mean what the hell am I?”

  “Lilou, no, you don’t know—”

  “Enough of this,” Lilou said. “I know your sort, Meloy. Help us and I’ll help you, make you rich with more relics than you can dream of. Witches’ tits, pixies’ cocks. But if you choose not to help, then fuck off right now.”

  Cliff was looking left and right like a lost kid, but to Angela’s surprise Fat Frederick gathered himself quickly. He grinned, staring at Angela properly for the first time since arriving.

  “Feisty friend you’ve got here.” Angela knew that his bravado hid a deeper uncertainty. “Okay, so let’s say I do help you rescue Vince from this… Ballus. What’s in it for me?”

  “Don’t you know yet?” Lilou asked.

  All pretense fell away. Gangster, criminal, collector, and murderer, he was also a human, and Angela believed right then that anyone could become Lilou’s plaything. He turned toward her.

  “What are you?” he whispered.

  “Just help us,” Angela said. “Please. There’s more to this than you can believe.”

  “And helping you will help me believe.” It wasn’t a question.

  Angela nodded. Lilou sighed and turned away, appearing bored with the conversation.

  Maybe he understood, maybe not. She thought he did, but the true implications would take a while to dawn. He wasn’t a stupid man, but he was mean. The realisation that he had been wrong for so long might take time to sink through his hard exterior.