'Fuck no.'
'Listen, Dawn, this is Mistress to Apprentice. Pick a fucking kitten. I swear you'll find yourself doing far worse, and whether you like it or not doesn't matter.' I jabbed my finger at the cage.
'Fine,' she snapped. Walking over to the cafe, she opened the door, closed her eyes and thrust her arm in, grabbing hold of the first kitten she touched. It mewled pitifully, and I saw a tear run down her cheek. The pain at upsetting her was almost physical, a lump forming in my throat as I turned away to avoid her accusing stare.
Even worse was that she truly didn't appreciate just how low she might have to go to complete a Mark, nor how far others would stoop. Still, I wasn't about to get into that debate right now. Kitten Gate was bad enough. And so, we set off on the most dangerous mission we'd ever attempted in the shittiest mindset ever.
If I thought making her choose a kitten was bad, I was wrong. Making her hand the damned thing over to the Rock Lord was levels of bad I never wanted to experience again in my life.
We stopped just before the entrance to the UnderCity so she could dry her eyes and make them less puffy. Thirty minutes of standing in absolute silence as the anger and hurt radiated from her was excruciating. I tried placing a hand on her shoulder, to pull her into a hug, but it was as if I was touching a statue. I pulled, she set her feet, I gave up. I didn't dare try to speak to her like this.
'Ready,' she said in a monotone, brusquely pushing past me to enter the UnderCity.
I followed her, putting on my hard face. I'd learned a long time ago that being able to control your face, no matter what you felt like inside, was a valuable skill. Predators, in any form, will seize upon any weakness in their victims. Hesitation, a tremble in your voice, fear on your face, piss in your pants. Any weakness is like gold to them, and they'll exploit it to bring you down.
One such bully was Hetty Drinksome, a girl from my school. She'd bullied me mercilessly for my appearance. My skin tone, my hair, my accent. Even the way I walked once. And every time I'd given her an opening, she'd seized upon it mercilessly.
I lost count of the number of times I'd run home crying. Gradually though, I'd learned that if I didn't react, she ended up looking like a prize twat in front of her cronies. And once my grandmother had given me permission, when I finally summoned the courage to fight back, I'd beaten her black and blue.
Schooling my face into different looks had been a skill I'd never looked. And so now my ‘hard’ face made those who caught my eye look away in under a second. Made those that stepped into my path to step back out of it again. It might have helped that I had Dawn in tow, but I was going with the fact that it was my face that was scaring them away.
Holloway street was outside of the old walls of the UnderCity but was still part of it because it was medieval and therefore had a lot of residual life to it. In modern Exeter the bridge was buried under the road that was the main route to Topsham from the city centre. In the UnderCity, the bridge was still there for all to see, only here it was much larger.
I knew that if I ever tried to sort out the logic of the UnderCity, that I'd end up in a padded cell trying to eat my own shit. It was roughly thirty feet long, spanning a stream that stank even from where we stood. It was enough to make tears spring from my eye.
'Oh, my God, that's utterly rank!' coughed Dawn.
'What's making that fucking smell?'
'The Trolls. Those are their houses.' I pointed at the cluster of huts huddled around both ends of the bridge, as well as under the arches.
They were poorly made from whatever the Trolls had found. Moss covered practically the whole of each structure and where it didn't, wet wood glistened. They'd even managed to take over Larkbeare House, the once-proud crenelated turret now looking somewhat precarious, a great hole in the middle giving me no reassurance it wouldn't collapse any second now.
'Trust Stinky fucking wankstain Pete to hide there. How many are there?’ Although her voice was still guarded, at least she was talking to me, which was a good sign.
'Judging by the number of shacks, and the fact that they've taken over Larkbeare House, I'd say at least ten. Maybe more. Bridge Trolls don't tend to have large families, and they never live in the same shack. Which is why there are so many huddled around the bridge.'
'I bloody hate Bridge Trolls and I've not even met one yet!' snapped Dawn. 'I was reading up about them. Evil fuckers that like inflicting pain upon their victims as they eat them. Heal quickly. What fucking monster doesn't?'
'Watch out for their spurs. They're like wolverine, punching bone through their knuckles. It's coated with a venom that paralyses their victims but doesn't stop them from feeling everything that's done to them. Eaten alive and unable to even scream.' I shuddered at the very idea. The thought of being eaten alive freaked me right out. Which is why I always refused to take on Zombie, or Liche Marks.
'The plan's really quite simple. We move up to the bridge. Troll pops up and demands that we pay them tribute to cross. We then ask for Stinky Pete. After that it's going to be bullets, Spells, and lots of screaming and blood, no doubt.'
'Bring it.' She cocked her vector dramatically, giving me a tight smile. The ice was cooling. Quick to blow up, she was just as quick to come back down.
'Don't forget that they like to head butt people as well.'
She snorted. 'They can head butt my 9mm if they like. Boom! Headshot!'
I smiled at the reference. Quake was one of our favourite retro games. When we had the chance to play, that was.
'Time to earn our pay cheques.' I took a slow breath, held it for a count of five, and then breathed out, trying to force out the butterflies in my stomach. This had the potential for a battle of epic proportions. Hopefully, no one else would step in to help the Trolls. The stench alone must have made them plenty of enemies, and no one likes to pay taxes to cross a bridge.
Bridge Trolls have tiny hairs all over their bodies that are extremely sensitive to movement, and the sound of movement. Keeping their body in contact with the bridge that they called home—it could just be a fallen tree spanning a ravine—they could tell as soon as anyone stepped onto it. They were like spiders in that sense.
I held out my arm just before we stepped onto the bridge, stopping Dawn in her tracks.
'Remember, once it kicks off, keep fighting.' I looked over at her. 'I couldn't bear to see you being eaten by a Bridge Troll.'
'Ha, that's because you wish you could eat me.' She gave me a beautiful smile and a not-so-gentle nudge, then—whilst I was still struggling for a suitably witty comeback—stamped a foot down onto the bridge proper. 'Knock, knock.'
'Who's that stamp-stamping on my bridge!' The voice was deep, laden with a promise of death, it turned my bowels to water just hearing it.
'Fuck me, Aural Aura. Never thought it would be this bad,' whispered Dawn.
I'd forgotten one of the most important things about Bridge Trolls. They had the power to cause fear. Terror to be exact. Mouth dry, needing a piss, I struggled not to get my Mastercard out there and then. I was more than happy to pay any toll he asked for.
'Fuck me, he's a big bastard.'
I shook my head, forcing the fear back down so I could focus on the monster that had appeared before us. He was still climbing over the side of the bridge onto the road.
Big was an understatement. A Bull, he was clearly the daddy of the group. As he slowly straightened, his purple and yellow streaked hide rippling over muscles the size of my head, I guessed that he must have been at last nine feet tall, weighing close to a quarter ton. Three horns crested his head like a nightmare Mohican, the foremost jutting directly from his forehead. A butt from him would be instantly painful. And deadly.
The rest of his face, as with all Bridge Trolls, resembled that of a cow, although his eyes were set directly on the side of his face very much like those of chameleons. Ugly bugger.
I took a moment, making sure that my mouth was going to work properly when I spoke. Right now, he was seriously fuc
king with my mojo. He knew it. I knew it. And every bugger watching knew it. It was imperative that I broke his OODA loop. He thought he was in charge. I needed to change that mentality as quickly as possible.
'Agent of the Merlins,' I held up my badge, something I rarely did, but I needed to draw his attention away from me and having him squint at my ID was perfect. 'We're on a Mark. Stinky Pete. We've been informed you're sheltering him.'
'So?' His eyes rotated in their sockets. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or the sky.
'So, we require you hand him over. Harbouring Fugitives of the Merlins is an offence. Obstructing an Agent is an offence. Give him to us now, and I'll let you off with nothing but a firm wagging of my finger.
'Why's it a fence?'
'Wha… Oh. No. Not a fence, an offence. It's against the law. It's naughty.'
'So?'
'God!' muttered Dawn. 'Look, you fucking dipshit. Give us Stinky twatting Pete now and we'll let you live'
Wow, way to escalate! I made a mental note to give her a kick up the arse if we got out of this situation alive.
'Hur, hur, hur.' Yes, he laughed like this whilst he rubbed his massive hands together like some 1920s villain. 'Pay me for crossing the bridge, and I'll let you live. We have Pact with Pete. Pete's protected from noms. Pete's nice. You can cross bridge, or you can leave. But you touched bridge so still need to pay.'
The Pact was bad news. A Magical agreement, it protected Pete from being harmed by the Trolls, but from what he had just said, it didn't protect him against being double-crossed. I could see we were at an impasse. I didn't want to start fighting him. Attacking the Bull would mean that all his family would come to help. He wasn't going to help us and wanted paying. And, somewhere nearby, Stinky Pete would be pissing his pants laughing.
I looked around, trying to spot where the sneaky bastard might have been hiding, but it was a fruitless task. The shacks were in such a piss-poor state that he could have been looking out of any number of holes.
I Cast a quick Charm, amplifying my voice.
'Pete! We know you're here, you daft bastard. Come out now, and we'll have a nice chat. Piss about anymore and you're going to make me angry, and your friends are going to get hurt.'
Naturally, I didn't expect him to answer. No self-respecting piece of shit was going to turn themselves over to the authorities just because they asked nicely. No. There had to be a chase. A fight. Then complaints about how you were hurting them followed by capitulation, amputation, or death. It was bloody tiresome.
'Child.'
'What?'
'Give us a human child. We'll give you Pete. Child tastes good. Innocent.'
Well, that stumped me. I'm happy to give Rock Lord puppies and kittens, but turning over an actual human child to creatures that would delight in torturing it and then eating it alive was a line no one bar the sickest fucker in the world would cross.
'Deal. Give us thirty minutes.' I spun smartly on my heels, grabbed Dawn's arm as she opened her mouth to speak and muttered, 'shut it. I have a plan.'
She did so, so quickly that her teeth clacked together. As swiftly as I could, I led her out of sight of the bridge. As soon as we were, I pulled her to a halt.
'Plan. We need to get hold of a baby-sized doll. I'll then cast a Glamour that will make it appear as if it's a real baby. We hand it over, they give us Pete, and we get out of there as quickly as possible.'
She puffed out her cheeks, blowing out a long breath, 'We really need to have a safe word if you're going to bluff like that.'
'What, you actually thought I'd sacrifice a fucking child?'
Shifting on her feet, she looked down, 'Well, no. But you're so fucking convincing sometimes, especially when you put on that voice.'
I had to admit I was utterly taken aback by that. 'What voice?'
'The one you put on. Stone cold killer bitch with attitude. You know, the voice.'
'Huh, no. Never knew I had one. Still, a safe word is a good idea. One that we can slip into conversation and not look weird.' I gave myself a mental shake, bringing the conversation back on track. 'Still, we need to get a doll. I know just the place.'
The place was a Magical supplies shop on the High Street. Up in the real Exeter this would be Patisserie Valerie, one of our favourite coffee shops. Well, favourite cake shops if I'm completely honest. Called Porting & Smalls, it's one of the most famous Magical supplies shops in the world, with outlets in nearly every city and UnderCity in the United Kingdom. You could even order from the website if you knew how to get past the splash page.
As with any self-respecting Magical shop, you had to have Magical ability to enter. It prevented Mundanes from entering accidentally and blowing up a neighbourhood. Other less reputable, or professional, shops had made the news on several occasions. Reported on Mundane news, they were mostly put down to gas explosions. Stepping through the door I shivered as we broke the Wards, a sonorous bell sounding as we entered.
'Be there in just a minute!' The voice was friendly and sounded motherly, coming from somewhere at the back of the shop. Like any normal shoppers, we started to slowly browse through the shelves, picking up items that we weren't really interested in, and then putting them back down again.
As you'd expect, the shelves were stocked chock-a-bloc with items ranging from ground Fae wings through to silver bullets. All were neatly labelled, and the shelves were broken down into various sections such as 'Spell Components' or 'Charms. It was very ordered and nothing like what you'd expect if you were a Potter fan. Not that we didn't have scruffy shops, and shops which made those in Knockturn Alley look positively angelic. But Porting & Smalls prided themselves on being professional.
A matronly-looking woman bustled out from behind some shelves. She was rosy-cheeked, worn a fascinating mix of poorly-patched woollen jumpers and flowery blouses, as well as what looked like at least five different skirts. Eyes a piercing blue were surrounded by smile lines so deep I half-expected to see a dwarf miner.
'Sorry about the wait, my dears. How can I help you?'
'We're looking for a doll. Must be human, and a baby, not a baby-sized toddler mind. Needs to have articulated limbs, as well,' I said, unable to resist smiling back at her. I half-expected her to wheel out rock cakes and cups of tea.
'Well, well, well. Trying to trick some Trolls, are we?'
'Wait…wha...?' I flailed my hands, genuinely lost for words.
'Happens a lot. Those bloody Bridge Trolls down on Holloway Street. They sometimes ask for too much, grab someone's loved one and demand a child in return.' She patted my arm with a gentle smile. 'You just wait here, we have plenty. They're our best sellers, you know!' she called out as she disappeared behind the shelves once again. She reminded me of the Dungeon Master from an old cartoon in the ‘80s the way she did that, a Granny DM.
'She's nice,' Dawn said softly.
'Yeah. Be on your guard,' I replied just as quietly.
'Always, boss. Always.'
Granny DM re-appeared from behind another set of shelves she shouldn't have been able to without us spotting.
As she approached, she held out an incredibly lifelike doll. It was exquisitely made, none of this plastic shit that Mundane kids get given. Even the hair looked real.
'Real hair,' she said as if she'd read my mind, 'makes the Glamour work better if you have something truly organic.'
'Right, wow. It's beautiful. How much?'
'That's ten thousand pounds. Well worth the life of a loved one.' Her mouth smiled, her eyes didn't. They went utterly cold, devoid of any emotion whatsoever.
'Umm, that's a bit expensive. Got anything cheaper?' asked Dawn, placing a hand on my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze, stopping me from putting my foot well and truly in it. Ten grand was a ton of money I didn't have.
'Hmph.' Granny DM's face said it all. Gone was the nice granny who baked cakes and gave you long hugs. Now, she was giving a hint at her true Hag nature. Still, she was in the service
industry, so I wasn't too worried. Not saying I didn't get ready for a fight, nor that my heartbeat didn't increase either. Mundanes really do have it easy.
Without a word, she turned her back and shuffled off, a palpable air of disgruntlement following her like a Troll's body odour. This time, we could hear her sorting through the stock. Thuds, as well as the odd crash and bang came from behind some shelves as well as something I swear sounded like 'tight-arsed bitch.'
'Here.' We both jumped at the voice behind us. Turning, we saw that Granny DM had reappeared behind the till counter. She held out another doll. This one looked like crap, with patchy hair, scratched paint, and a missing eye. 'Fifty quid.'
'Wha…' Dawn's elbow dug deep into my ribs, and I clean forgot what I was going to say. I felt most discombobulated.
'Great, that's lovely. Do you take card?' Dawn said as she reached into her pocket.
'That'll do fine, dear,' said Granny DM, taking the card and doing what shop people do. 'Do you want it wrapped?'
'No, thank you,' I managed after finally catching my breath, Dawn's elbows were bony as hell. 'We'll take it as is.'
She handed it over, we said our thank yous and left as quickly as possible.
Outside, back in the relative safety of the street, I quickly cast a Glamour that would make the doll look like a baby, then passed it over to Dawn so she could admire my handiwork.
'Fuck me, that's one bloody ugly baby. It's like a monkey fucked a walnut,' she said as her face twisted in disgust.
'Not my bloody fault. She gave us a piece of shit. Not even Barbie dolls cost that much. Give it back.’
She passed it back over, and I gazed down at my creation. There was no denying it, the baby was pug ugly and had the sort of face that would make adults cry. 'It only needs to trick the Trolls. As soon as we have Pete, we can just get out of there.'
'Reckon it will trick them?'
'Definitely,' I said as the baby cooed and gurgled at me. It was well and truly disgusting. And drooly. I couldn’t wait to get rid of it. As quickly as we could, we returned to Pete’s stinky hideout.
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