The Violent Fae

by Phil Williams

  “It tells us we still can’t trust the Ministry,” Darren said.

  That worried Ward more than everything else. “No – we’re fixing this. That’s the point! But it’s not your place to be here. We should leave.”

  “Leave?” Rufaizu exclaimed. “You want to leave? When it’s getting interesting?”

  “He’s right,” Holly said. It was clear enough that between Apothel’s book and this government ministry’s studies, there were big gaps in any academic understanding of these monsters. The reality was that no one would get a damn thing done without certain intrepid people braving the tunnels themselves. However daunting the place was. “If we leave now, we’re no closer to explaining what’s wrong. Seeing as your fancy equipment can’t be relied on. No, I think it’s best we continue.”

  9

  Light spilled into Letty’s fresh hovel as the door opened. Fresh was being generous: this box made the white room look big. Just enough space for a dense sponge bed, an old TV and a pile of boxes. Someone’s forgotten storage chest. She stood from the sponge as Flynt entered. He’d adopted the same sort of disguise they’d rustled up for her: a dark green plastic poncho, hood up, glasses and a smog-bandanna, like a bookish crossing guard. The disguise didn’t hide the concern on his face.

  “We’re good,” Flynt said, pulling down the bandanna. “Edwing convinced Val’s people he’s been trying to draw outsiders back into the FTC, peacefully.”

  “But . . .”

  Flynt bit his lip, too nervous to say.

  Letty regarded him critically. The Scout Chief. Responsible for the Fae’s scavengers, youthful, smooth-skinned where he wasn’t burnt, and nervous. She said, “Hell’s biscuits, before the scouts were run by a guy whose voice could’ve rusted plastic. How’d a whelp like you take over?”

  Flynt put a hand on his hip, drawing attention to his pistol bulge beneath the poncho. “Got you back here, didn’t I?”

  “Got me stuck back here.”

  “With Lightgate still prowling out there.”

  “Spin on it. What’s happening?”

  He paused, still reluctant. “There’s rumours going about. Emergency broadcasts on the big screen. Val’s recalling my scouts, saying only Stabilisers are allowed out.”

  “Because they caught us making a call?”

  “Because the Ministry have been spotted nearby. Teaming up with the Apothel Five. Like, ten blocks away.”

  “Pax?”

  Flynt’s blank face said he didn’t know.

  “Fuck this.” Letty pushed past him to the door and he reached for her arm; she snatched his hand, twisted him round, lightning-fast, to press his face against the wall. “I ain’t sitting around waiting for whispers, not with shit like that happening! You’re at least gonna show me what’s happening out there.”

  “Put on the TV –”

  “Screw the TV,” she hissed in his ear. “I want to see it.”

  She released him, stepping back, and he dropped his arm, more ashamed than annoyed. Defeated, he sullenly nodded and led the way. Out onto the warehouse floor, in the shadows of the towers. Flynt craned upwards, then whispered, “Okay, it’s clear.”

  His wings took him silently across the path, to another building where he twisted back and watched for Letty to follow. He waved a hand and she lifted off, too. The Clear Glider worked. It had taken some painful jabbing and manoeuvring to connect it, but it was worth it. She flew with a graceful spin. Effortless, and a sign her injuries were basically healed. Hell, this would give her the edge once she tracked down Lightgate.

  Flynt directed her around a corner, across another empty space to a major thoroughfare. One of the big avenues of the Fae city; nothing at ground level, but walls of homes and businesses looming over them. Having earlier escaped through shadows and alleys, Letty was finally able to see the city proper, and it wasn’t pretty. Lit partly by skylights high above, partly from the many-coloured lamps and signs outside Fae dwellings, everything looked so clean. The stacked homes, variously coloured structures the size of human shoeboxes, were neatly painted and aligned. The air traffic, with Fae gliding from one opening to another, was eerily well-ordered, gravitating towards the centre and the broadcast Flynt had mentioned.

  Floating high above it all was a great screen with drone propellers, broadcasting a news channel for the whole damn city to see. Even from this distance, the image was clear. Footage of that mousy MEE agent alongside Barton, his wife and Apothel’s boy. All of them hustling into a tunnel entrance. A headline said: APOTHEL FIVE WITH MEE ON FTC PERIMETER.

  The image cut to Valoria, the pompous governor. Bulkier than any Fae had a right to be, chains around her neck, hair in loose braids, wearing a velvet dress like a medieval queen. Standing at a podium looking Deathly Serious. Letty’s skin crawled with the urge to pummel her glutinous face.

  “This is clear provocation from the humans,” Valoria announced, her big voice echoing past the buildings. “So soon after their brazen attack, returning to our territory.”

  “Our territory?” Letty said. “They were going into the Sunken City, how do we know it’s anything to do with us?”

  “With no word of warning from the Ministry,” Valoria continued, “we can only assume the worst. But I have personally been preparing a response to the human hostilities. The Council will meet tomorrow afternoon for a vote to move forward with it.”

  “Where’s Edwing in this?” Letty turned on Flynt.

  “Talking to others sympathetic to our cause. There are dissenters, he might be able to delay whatever she’s planning, sway this vote –”

  “Votes, delays,” Letty said. “She’s gearing up for a shitshow and you’re talking fucking politics? We need to act. Wherever your boy is, we’re here now and we know, at least, that she’s hiding the fucking Dispenser. You know where?”

  Flynt hesitated. “Only place completely secure is the vats.”

  “Too right, the fucking vats. So we bust down the door and stick it to her where it hurts. You and me, right this minute.”

  “What?” Flynt squeaked. “There’s –”

  A shadow passed over them and he ducked against the wall, pulling Letty with him. She shoved him off and leant out. Whoever had flown over was gone. She scoffed, “You ever actually been in a fight? How’d you lose the eye, coffee pot explode on you? What are you, twelve?”

  He stood taller, trying to show he was a big, grown-up Fae. Hell, him and Edwing both, they were fully mature, but Fae reached maturity quickly, that could’ve meant anywhere between ten and thirty years old. “I’ve done things –”

  “Screw it, come on.” Letty pulled him out into the open. He stumbled after her before regaining his footing. She squinted up, searching for the black armour of Stabilisers, and spotted a couple watching the screen. Letty flew up, sticking to a wall, all the way to a nearby roof. A better vantage point, out of their view but revealing half the city.

  Flynt landed alongside her, panicked. “You can’t be out here –”

  “Look at those mugs.” She pointed. “They’re all rapt with this fucking broadcast. You need a lesson, Cyclops: everyone here got comfortable, no one expects a beating. Like you. Strike hard and fast, they’ll be too surprised to react. Where are the vats?”

  “Hell, you can’t – come back down, let me call Edwing –”

  “Why’d you rescue me at all? You got no idea who I am? How I work?”

  Flynt firmed up with a new trace of defiance. “Of course I do. Our old Scout Chief, Bevans, he flew with you, told us all the stories. Syphoned oil from a Warlowe Ltd truck? Ransomed a kid in West Farling? Edwing, he says, she knows we’re meant for better things. When they said a human ate you, I said bullshit. Not Letty. We believe in you, alright. That’s why I gotta keep you alive.”

  Letty took in a breath and let it out. His innocent tirade almost made her feel bad. Almost. “You know me so well, you think I need your protection? You know what I see, looking at you? A guy keen on action who�
��s never seen it. Let Edwing do his thinking, he’s not here. We go in quietly, get proof Val’s got the Dispenser, that she’s a lying bitch. Give your brother something to talk about.”

  Flynt hesitated. Long enough to say he was game. “Let me call Newbry.”

  Letty folded her arms as he made the call with quick, quiet commands. Asking for door codes, camera scrambling, hacker spy shit. While he talked, Letty gave the city another look. There was so much openness. Floor-to-ceiling windows, wide terraces; fragile structures that you couldn’t easily move. She squinted at the stacked buildings: the securing clips were still there, these stacks could be detached, but this FTC was no longer mobile.

  Her roving eyes picked out a familiar word, above a wholly unfamiliar leisure unit. The sign read Rullion, the name of the clubhouse the city’s best scouts used to frequent. But the building had a pillared facade and a swimming pool visible through the big windows. “What in holy rat rot . . .”

  “The Rullion?” Flynt caught her staring, ending his call. “Yeah. Mostly the Council and Stabilisers use it now. But we’ve got our place, too. The Bloodtooth Bar –”

  “Don’t, just don’t.” Letty shut her eyes against the madness. “Are we on or what?”

  “Yeah. But we’ll need to cut the fence.”

  “Got my knife.” Letty patted her thigh where the sheathed blade lived. “That’ll do.”

  He gave her a sceptical look. “Okay.” He flew past her and down, gesturing that she follow him. “Careful – stick to cover.”

  Letty kept pace with her own concerns. “Why’s everyone dressed like mundane humans? Where’s the shouting or gunfire or blaring music? This place is fucking quiet.”

  Flynt shrugged, leading her through gaps between homes. He pointed out the bigger landmarks she didn’t recognise. “There’s the Council Chambers” – ornately carved rotundas, mimicking classical architecture – “and Ducker’s Exchange, biggest marketplace in town.” A wide-open shopping centre, lined with shelves like a damn human supermarket.

  “Oughta correct the first letter,” Letty said. At floor level, a couple of slumped, shuddering Fae in rags caught her eye. “What’s that? All this opulence, and junkies can’t get good human drugs?”

  Flynt glanced at the men. “That’s dust withdrawal.”

  Letty followed Flynt until they were one tower removed from the dust vats. Landing on a lookout ledge, Letty considered the dust economy uncomfortably. She’d experienced medicinal grade dust that could heal. Were they also churning out the polar opposite?

  The site responsible sat on the edge of the FTC complex, separate from all the other buildings and notably more horizontal; like four overturned bathtubs, connected at various heights by dull pipes, accessible through a foot-wide circular bulkhead in the roof of the farthest one, or via a set of double doors at the base of the nearest. Armed guards loitered around both, and wire fencing encircled the lot like a net. The fencing had one entrance, another foot-wide gate on electric rollers. No one outside Val’s inner circle of workers ever got in. As long as the dust kept flowing, everyone was happy with that.

  “Over there.” Flynt pointed, checking against something on his phone. Newbry had come through quickly. “There’s a blind spot. Through that fence, we can get to the walls, then it’s the ID checkpoint. See, up there, the guards are turning the corner.”

  Letty watched the patrolmen drifting out of view, around one of the vat buildings. Both looking over towards the broadcast screen. She darted down to the fence, across the open ground, as Flynt raced to keep up. She drew her knife and slid it through the links; a quick slice and they fell away. Flynt watched in awe at the blade’s sharpness, but she gave him a dismissive look. Who’d want a knife that couldn’t cut metal?

  Letty pulled a gap open for Flynt and they continued to the main gates, where he keyed a code into a number pad. Newbry had pulled his weight there, too. And presumably he’d neutralised the cameras? A surprisingly useful gaggle of nerds, these boys.

  Slipping through the door into a small antechamber, Letty spotted a desk behind a glass panel. A single Fae sat watching TV. As Letty’s shadow passed over him he looked up, mouth open, and she knocked him to the floor. Jumped on him, spun him around, too quick for him to see her. She hissed at Flynt, on her heels, to find something to tie him with. Together, they bound the guy into his chair with tape, then Letty checked the desk’s monitors: familiar outdoor scenes – perimeters like the ones they’d shot across – patrols flying oblivious. Good. Then interior shots. The vats themselves, big cauldrons with pipes running in and out, a couple of walkways over them. Production lines with conveyors, grinders and robot arms processing sludge into dust and pills. One shot of a packaging area. Very few workers, most of the operation automated.

  None of it seemed out of the ordinary. What they’d come to find wasn’t on camera. Letty checked the screens against a map on the desk, showing the four buildings divided into sectors. The monitors had corresponding labels: Silo 1, Sector B. Packaging North. She said, “What’s not being watched?”

  Flynt checked. “Packaging West?”

  True. No sign of the name on the monitors. Letty snatched the guard’s keycard and paused to look at the TV. The broadcast was still going. A sallow-faced Fae in a suit had taken Val’s place to talk about the dangers of interacting with humans. Fucker.

  Letty ran at a half-crouch from the entrance into one of the silo rooms – a massive chamber, thick with the rumble of machinery and the hum of electricity. It stank like iron and earth. Pipes ran from the base of the enormous vat into the ground. At least a Fae’s width thick, riveted shut except at a couple of small viewing panels. Whatever was inside glowed, faintly. It gave Letty a chill.

  “What is it?” Flynt asked.

  She wasn’t sure herself. Pax came to mind. Saying dust sounded like the humans’ glo. And here was shit glowing in the pipes. Junkies on new strains of dust getting high somehow. High-grade medicinal dust . . .

  Shaking the thoughts clear, Letty dashed down a short corridor to an adjoining building, then skirted a production line to reach the doors to Packaging West, labelled with a big sign. Locked. The guard’s keycard produced a red light. Cursing, Letty gave Flynt a look. He shook his head – no solution. In the gap between the double doors, there were at least three bolts holding them together. No way of forcing this one. But with that kind of security, they must be in the right place.

  “There,” Flynt whispered, pointing at a guy in grey overalls strolling onto a walkway above. Letty shot up between poles and pipes and dropped behind him. As he turned, she got a hand over his mouth and shoved him into the rail. She dug her pistol into his gut.

  “Not a sound. You’re gonna open the door down there.” His eyes were terrified but he shook his head quickly. She dug the pistol deeper. “We can do it quick and easy or slow and painful.”

  He mumbled a frightened response, eyes desperate, and she released her hand just enough to hear it. “I don’t have access! No one gets in from here! Please! Please. I know you – I’ve got a kid –”

  “To hell with your kid. Who does go in?”

  “Stabilisers,” he said. “And Nimm. But he’s not vats staff –”

  “You got the Dispenser in there?” Letty said, storing that name for later.

  “What? I don’t know! But – there’s a ventilation shaft – not big enough to go through, only to see – but I’m begging you –”

  “Move.”

  Letty shoved him into flight, and the engineer took her to where a metal shaft entered the wall. He opened a panel and she wriggled her head and shoulders into it, keeping one hand clamped on his neck. There was a small grate looking into Packaging West. And there was her goal. The brass and glass casing of the cylinder was unmistakable.

  “Satan’s mule,” Letty said. “That’s my fucking Dispenser.”

  But it wasn’t all that was there. A handful of Stabilisers were gathered around a stack of crates with Cyrillic let
tering, and behind them sat a pile of earthen waste. A big pile, clumps of mud and tangled roots running through it. Bits of it glowed softly blue. Letty ducked out, glaring at the engineer. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut in fear. She got no chance to quiz him further, as Flynt called a warning: “Got people coming, time to go!”

  10

  Pax was almost breathless when she made it back to her seat at the casino. Fifteen minutes late; not bad considering she’d been right across town and met with a crotchety fairy. Only a few chips gone. She muttered apologies to the players eyeing her like she must be mad to miss a single second of the game. It was worth it. Palleday had hinted at a way forward, and that was all she needed. Some Fae, somewhere, would help. Now, she could play.

  In theory. With one eye on the game, her mind wandered as she bet and folded her way through hands. Palleday’s words drifted into her consciousness.

  More people want you dead than alive right now.

  And a lot of those people thought she was a Fae-eating monster. Trying to consume their powers for herself, he said. A relevant fear, considering something in their energy made the minotaur desperate to consume them. Did they understand it themselves, well enough that they might use it to fight back?

  She picked up a king and queen, and everyone folded to her. Three people to go, and she once again had a dwindling stack. To hell with it, she would figure something out later; now she had to get back in the game. She pushed her chips in.

  The next player called immediately, to two more folds, and showed a pair of kings.

  Oh.

  Pax stared with little feeling as the dealer drew the five community cards, whispers of upset as her march towards success was cut brutally down. The kings held up. She was out of the tournament. Her chips were callously swept away. Disbelief for a moment. She nodded to the vague sounds of people’s condolences. Pax stood, forcing an uncomfortable smile, and ran a hand through her hair. Oh well. Oh well. It was just an opportunity to get rich. Just a matter of getting her life secure.