by Amy Cross
"A cow?" I ask.
"An actual cow," Darla says, seemingly annoyed.
"Who is she, anyway?" I ask.
Darla shakes her head. "Never mind. Let's hope she's not down there. The point is, I'm coming with you".
"Not all the way," Matt says. He fixes Darla with a dark stare. "You know why".
"Whatever," Darla says, but I can see in her eyes that she knows what he's talking about. "But we can do this. We can go down there and we can get Duncan. We'll find him, and we'll haul him back to the surface". She turns to Matt. "With or without your help".
Matt smiles. "I'll tell you what you have to do. But I won't come down there with you. I'm crazy, but I'm not that crazy. I'd rather go back in that pit than go down to the Underworld". I can tell from the look on his face that he's serious. Still, he knows things that could be useful. If I'm going down there to find Duncan, I might as well know as much as possible about what I'm going to face.
"I'm definitely coming with you," Darla says. "We've come this far, we might as well go all the way. I'm definitely in. If it was Eddie down there..." Her voice trails off. "You know, right?"
I nod. "If there was any way we could have saved Eddie," I start to say, but the truth is that there's nothing more than I can say that could make her feel better. At least we still have a chance to find Duncan, even if he has been cut in half. Eddie's dead. I still don't quite know what Eddie was to Darla, but I can tell that he meant a lot to her.
I take a deep breath. This Underworld place sounds like fun. But Duncan's down there somewhere, and he needs my help. Once we get down there, I'll be able to find him, I know I will. He's saved me in the past, and now I'm going to save him. Even if he's still cut in half, even if he doesn't want to be saved and he can't be healed, I'm going down there. And this time I won't come back to the real world until I've got Duncan with me. I owe him that much, and so much more.
I close my eyes and try to sense him. It's been so long since I could sense his presence in the city. At first, once again, there's nothing. But then, gradually, I sense something. A faint presence. A faint voice. And then I feel it wash over me. Duncan. He's out there. He's alive. I have no idea where. I have no idea what he's doing, or where he's going, or whether he's in even more danger than I can possibly imagine. But for the first time in a long time, I can sense him. He's alive. And I'm going to rescue him from the Underworld.
Epilogue
General Chaucer held the slide up to the light. All he could see were a series of black squares and a few numbers. It made no sense at all to him. Then again, his mind had never been very good when it came to science. He was a fighting man. He understood war and combat, not DNA sequences and RNA transmitters.
"What am I looking at?" he asked. He hated being down in the government lab, and he wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. The whole damn place made his skin crawl.
"It's all we could salvage from the Blaum Building," said Dr. Mendler, the chief scientist at the lab. "Most of the target materials were gone. The head, for instance -"
"The head was gone?"
"The head was gone, sir".
Chaucer sighed. Violence. Death. This was the sort of thing he was used to, the sort of thing he felt comfortable talking about. "So did we get anything of use?"
"Potentially, sir, yes". Mendler took the slide and held it up again, pointing to several of the black squares. "This is DNA from the metastasised cancer that had spread throughout the building. Obviously this was based on Franklin Blaum's original cancer, but the nature of the building meant that it grew much faster".
"So it's cancer?" Chaucer said wearily. He had no interest in cancer. Cancer was not a weapon, so cancer was not something that he thought about.
"Yes, sir, most of it". Mendler pointed at another part of the slide. "But there was something else mixed in with part of the sample. It took me a long time to identify the intruder, but eventually I did. It's blood. Specifically, sir, it's lycanthrope blood".
Chaucer stared at him. "Werewolf blood?"
"Yes sir," Mendler said. "My best guess is that at some point shortly before Blaum died, the cancer attacked a werewolf and was contaminated with some of the creature's blood. Now, the cancer died shortly after this occurred, but this was a very fast-acting, fast-evolving cancer. So even in the few minutes it had, it was able to absorb the werewolf DNA and use it as its own. In effect, it mutated".
Chaucer took the slide back and squinted at it. The whole thing seemed ridiculous, but he'd learnt to trust Dr. Mendler over the years, he'd learnt to grudgingly respect scientists in general. Sometimes they could be useful. And Mendler knew his stuff. It was Mendler who had created the Gene Baby, and it was Mendler who had reverse-engineered a Sentinel husk. "Mutated into what?" Chaucer asked cautiously.
"It never got time to find out," Mendler said. "But we have time".
"This," said Chaucer, staring at the slider, "is a mutation of hyper-aggressive cancer and werewolf genes. Is that right?"
Mendler nodded. "That's a simplistic way of looking at it, yes, but it's essentially accurate".
"So," Chaucer continued. "What do we do with it?"
Mendler took the slide back, held it up to the light and gazed at it with almost paternalistic pride. He looked like a man whose son had just scored the winning goal in the FA Cup final or the winning score in the Superbowl. His eyes almost sparkled as he marvelled at the slide, as he thought of the possibilities. His voice was filled with excitement and anticipation. "We grow it".
Book 6:
Underworld
Prologue
I don't know why they call London a city. It's not. Never has been. It's always been two cities, one on top of the other.
Listen.
There's a story. I don't know how true it is but I believe it. Apparently there was this guy a couple of hundred years ago, his name was Harrington Edwards and he was working construction on the first big sewers being built beneath the city of London. One day he got lost. Very lost. Probably more lost than any person in the history of humanity has ever got lost. He wandered around for days down there, trying to find his way back up to the surface, back up to his friends and family.
He never made it.
I don't know if he was disorientated, or confused, or just plain stupid, but as Harrington Edwards tried to find a route back to the surface, he ended up going further and further down. Deeper and deeper and deeper. He ended up in tunnels that no-one knew existed, tunnels that were supposed to have been filled in many decades earlier. He must have realised, after a few days, that he was never going to get out alive.
But then he found himself in the other London. The one beneath the one we all know today. The one that was erased, the one that was deliberately destroyed and crushed. The one that was supposed to be empty and abandoned.
This other London was lit by the phosphorescent light of ancient moss. Huge buildings filled the caverns, reaching several storeys up to the roofs. It must have been an astonishing sight for poor Harrington Edwards as he first wandered through those ruins. Having longed to see his home, the surface world, again, he now found himself face to face with a nightmare ghost of his home, an ashen, doomed metropolis deep beneath his London. He was looking for his home, and instead he found someone else's home. It must have seemed so empty, so lonely.
And then the creatures came. Antipedes, huge worms with a million legs that double as teeth. Loom People, whose only goal is to strip the human body into threads for their legendary looms, which they then pass on to their masters, the Flesh Weavers. Golvs, hideous creatures with teeth in their eyes. Even a few stray werewolves remained down there, or so I'm told. Such things that would drive any many insane. Poor Harrington Edwards must have run screaming to try to get away from this menageries of horrors.
But of course they caught him. He ran into the Bog Babies. And that's how Harrington Edwards died. He drowned, and was sliced up, and was eaten, and was skinned alive, and suffered a mass
ive heart attack, all at the same time. The only consolation is that there must have been so much pain, so much agony, that his body shut down and was unable to feel anything. But still he would have seen all those creatures watching him die. Loom People. Bog Babies. Loop Bandits. Criads. Tenderlings. Golvs. Why, some people say that even Black Annis herself came to watch.
And they all laughed.
That was it. That was the world you asked me about. That was the Underworld.
1
"And," he continues, fixing me with a dark stare, "the legend says that one day this other city, Lycanth, will rise up and break through the surface once again, destroying London as we know it. But..." He smiles. "Like I said, I don't know how true this is".
I take a deep, deep, deep breath. It sounds... intense. And scary. And also wildly, wildly overblown. Okay, I can understand how a bunch of werewolves could sneak about in London for centuries without anybody noticing. No problem with that at all. But an entire second city, beneath the first London, crawling with strange creatures? That's kind of a hard secret for anyone to keep.
"So," says Darla, sitting next to me, eyes fixed on Matt. "This Underworld is where Duncan crawled to when he dug himself out of his grave?"
Matt nods slowly. "I imagine he decided it was too dangerous to return to the surface, so he dug down and tunnelled to the Underworld. He's probably down there right now, resting, regrowing the part of his body that was sliced off. What part did you say that was again?"
"His legs," I say. "And his lower torso. He was pretty much sliced in half".
Matt winces. "Werewolves might be able to heal, but shit like that still hurts".
I swallow hard. "So what do we do? We just go down there, find him, and bring him back up, right?"
"In theory," Matt says. "Yeah, that would work".
"In practice?" Darla asks. Unlike me, she seems to be actually enjoying all of this. She loves the idea of an adventure down into some ruined, monster-infested underground city. Either she's never been in real danger before, or she's been in so much real danger that it doesn't mean anything to her any more; whatever, she's psyched up for this. Is that a good thing? Or should I be worried?
"Any journey to the Underworld is dangerous," Matt says. "Obviously it's a risk. There are creatures down there. Things that should never have even existed. To see them is enough to drive most men mad. Even Black Annis stays clear of certain parts of the Underworld, in case of... complications".
"You keep mentioning Black Annis," I say. I turn to Darla. "You've mentioned her too. Who the fuck is she?"
Darla looks at Matt, waiting for him to tell me.
"Black Annis is someone you will never, ever meet," Matt says. "You will go out of your way to avoid ever having to encounter her, because to meet Black Annis is to look into the diseased, nightmarish eyes of the greatest evil ever born in this land. Everyone is scared of her. Even the Flesh Weavers... and by the way, if you run into them, you have to run. Same with the Loom People. Same with anyone or anything you encounter down there. But don't worry. Black Annis will keep away from you, she's a busy lady and a couple of young werewolves won't interest her in the slightest".
"Okay," I say, sighing. It seems like every question I ask is answered with more things that I don't understand. I just have to focus on the real job at hand, which is getting into the Underworld, finding Duncan, and getting him out of there. After that, we'll worry about the rest of our lives. But right now, there's only one job: I have to find Duncan.
"There's one more thing I should say," Matt continues. "You won't like it, but I'm going to say it anyway". He looks at us both, his eyes heavy with some secret he's about to reveal. "There's one final legend about the Underworld that I think is relevant to your journey, and I want you to keep it in mind at all times".
"Okay," says Darla. "Shoot".
"Remember," Matt says, "I'm just telling you what I know. This isn't my fault".
"Shoot," Darla continues.
Matt nods. "There's an old saying. Whenever two friends shall enter the Underworld together, not both those two shall make it out alive. It seems to me that you two are friend, and you're going into the Underworld together". He stares at us. "Let's just hope that part of the legend isn't true, yeah?"
"Let's hope," Darla says quietly. She turns to me and smiles. "But if one of us has to die, it'll be me".
"Will it?" I ask, surprised.
"Totally," she says. "I'm the quip-happy lively one. You're the quiet, thoughtful one. Don't you watch horror films? I'm clearly living on borrowed time as things are".
"It's an attitude like that," Matt says, "that'll get you both killed".
"Spoilsport," Darla snaps back at him, then she turns to me again and smiles. "See what I mean?"
"One last thing, Matt," I say, ignoring Darla for a moment. "Is there any way we can persuade you to come with us? At least part of the way. You seem to know so much about the Underworld, about how to get about down there. If you could just come with us part of the way, you can turn back when things get too dark -"
"No," he interrupts. "No way. I've been there before. Never again. And you know full well that if I came in part of the way, I'd end up staying with you until the end. There's just no way. I'll take you as far as the throne room, then you're on your own. I've already told you enough. You know more than most people know when they first go down to the Underworld. You know more than I knew. Keep your wits about you, don't judge things by how they look at first glance, and you've got a decent shot at getting out alive". He pauses. "At least one of you, anyway".
The throne of Lycanth is in a small room at the bottom of the pit. It takes quite a bit of effort to persuade Matt to come down there with us, given that he's only recently been freed from the pit. But I think he understand that we need all the help we can get, so the three of us climb down and approach the throne. It's a large, old stone construction, bare but imposing. There are no jewels, there's no gold, it's just made of stone and rock. It looks like it was designed for a big man to sit up there, but no-one has sat therefore for many years. As Matt explains to us, the Wolf King long ago left Britain to travel the world. Where he is these days, no-one knows.
Matt shows us to a small door behind the throne. Pushing the door open, we find a long passage heading away into the darkness. Darla and I each have a torch, which we shine into the distance, but there's nothing to see except a long corridor carved out of the rocks.
"How far until we reach the Underworld?" I ask.
"It'll take you the best part of a day," Matt says, to my surprise. "It's not exactly an easy journey. At first you'll hear Tube trains going past in nearby tunnels, but when you're about halfway those sounds will stop. You'll be on your own then. You'll know when you reach the Underworld because... well, trust me, you'll just know".
"One more time," I say, turning to him. "Please come with us. We need you".
"I know you need me," he says. "But there's no way I'm going back down there. Not again. Not ever. But I wish you two the best luck in the world. Even Duncan. I don't like him much, but he deserves better than to end up trapped in the Underworld".
"Where are you going to go?" I ask.
Matt shrugs. "Out of London, that's for sure. Maybe I'll go to Scotland and check in with the rest of my pack".
"Can I ask you a favour?" Darla says. She takes a deep breath. "If we don't survive... if I don't survive... could you go and find my friends and tell them... well, just say goodbye to them for me? They live in a small carnival somewhere in northern Cornwall. Just let them know that I was planning to come back to them, and life - or death - just got in the way". She laughs. "Sorry, I'm being maudlin. I'm sure I'll be back with them in a week, but just in case... Tell them that for me, yeah?"
Matt nods, then he turns to me. "And you, Jess? Do you want me to take a message to your family in case you don't make it back?"
I shake my head.
"Nothing at all?" he asks, surprised.
"Nothing," I say. "Don't do anything for me, okay?"
Darla looks at me. "You never talk about your human family -"
"That's right," I say. "I don't. Come on, let's get on with this. The sooner we head down there, the sooner we can find Duncan and come back up".
"Good luck," says Matt. "Hey, you never know. Maybe this time in a few days, we'll all be sitting around in a pub somewhere, laughing about things".
"Maybe," I say, turning to Darla. "We can stand here talking all day, but at some point we're gonna have to start moving. Why wait?"
"She's right," Darla says. "We're putting this off". She reaches out to Matt and they hug.
"Bye," I say, turning and heading down the tunnel. "Let's go". I hear Darla following, and eventually I look back. She's right behind me, but Matt is standing at the entrance to the tunnel, watching us go.
"You can't blame him for not coming," Darla says, as if she can read my mind. "To be honest, I plan on making this a one-time trip myself".
"I know," I say as we walk on. "I just think it'd be marginally easier for us if he helped more. But that's our problem, not his". And with that, we walk on in silence down the tunnel, which starts slowly sloping downwards as we head towards the Underworld.
2
He lives.
Standing in the bottom of the grave, with rain pouring all around me, I look at the dismembered legs and lower torso and I realise, with rage and anger, that he lives.
He has escaped.
I underestimated him. I thought that by slicing him in half and burying him in hallowed ground, I'd finally be rid of him. But he tunnelled his way down into the Underworld, and now he's hiding there, slowly regrowing his body. He thinks there's no way I can touch him while he's down there, that he's safe. But he's wrong. He'll never be safe from me. I won't rest until he's dead. Permanently, this time.