The Sunken City Trilogy Page 19

  Barton stared at the monsters, unflinching. He reached into his pocket for the cylinder of glo. He opened the cap. The smell, the flavour and the burning brought back memories of another life, a decade past.

  At least he could tell Holly he didn’t have a choice, this time.

  3

  Rufaizu woke with a tube down his throat. Teeth clamped onto a chunk of plastic, mouth forced open and impossible to move. He gagged, panicking, but gagging did nothing. He tried to sit up, but his arms were bound, giving only an inch of movement. He shook the shackles, arms and feet, then threw his head from side to side to see where he was. The tube ended in a large machine with some kind of artificial lung, its accordion plastic slowly rising up then falling down, each breath met with a muted beep.

  On the other side of him, a man sat staring.

  Another suited cog in the Ministry machine.

  This one had been more volatile than the others Rufaizu had encountered. His eyes were fiery, and vanity seeped from his pressed suit and well-groomed hair. He had the aura of a hunter who did it for sport.

  Rufaizu grunted, tried to demand he take the tube out, release him, anything. The man took the maximum amount of time possible to fold away the newspaper he was reading. He watched Rufaizu buck, and said, “Don’t waste your energy.”

  The man scraped his chair closer, leaning in.

  “You won’t be able to breathe for yourself for a while. What with where the bullet hit you. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  Rufaizu glowered back at him.

  “What everyone’s asking,” the man said, “is why you’d come back here, and reconnect with the Fae, considering their history with your family? I mean, surely you saw this coming?”

  Rufaizu tried to snarl, baring his teeth. The man sat back, offering a pitying look.

  “You really are animals, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. “You couldn’t pose a threat to anyone. But here we are, the biggest news in a decade. A feral boy scrapping with the fairies.” The man glanced to the door, checking they were still alone. He lowered his voice. “You can nod, or shake your head, so you can answer me. Do you even know why the Fae tried to kill you?”

  Rufaizu fixed his eyes on the man, making every effort not to move.

  “They did try to kill you, you realise that? They sure weren’t shooting at me. I was in the open, wasn’t I? An easy target, really. No, they were 100% on you, didn’t particularly want to hurt someone from the Ministry. You need protection. Without my help, they could still finish the job.”

  Rufaizu narrowed his eyes in what he hoped was a piercing look, to say: you’re wrong.

  The man’s mouth twisted with satisfaction. “You’re genuinely not afraid of them? They must’ve convinced you they were your friends. Maybe you had something they wanted? You know your dad thought they were his friends, too.”

  Rufaizu twisted away from the man, trying to hide his face.

  “The thing is, the FTC say that the Fae you were involved with were known deviants. Bad eggs. Yeah, we’ve had word from them. These creatures you were dealing with are the sort of Fae” – the man held up his left hand, bandaged around the middle – “who would risk crossing the Ministry. I can only hope you’re smarter than the facts suggest – that you’d know better than to talk to the sort of maniacs that killed your dad. You were running a con with them, weren’t you? Looking for revenge?”

  Rufaizu looked back at the man, then, and shook his head.

  “Oh please. Kid somehow returns from hiding after his father’s murdered, what else is he gonna have on his mind? Hell, I would go after whoever killed my dad, and I didn’t even like my dad.” The man placed a friendly hand on Rufaizu’s shoulder. “I want justice, the same as you. Help me help you.”

  Rufaizu looked at the man’s cracked knuckles, oddly blemished compared to the rest of his smooth skin.

  “You know where I can find them,” the man said. “Just give me an address.”

  Rufaizu kept staring. Even if a word this guy said was true, he was still a suit in the system. If the Fae couldn’t be trusted, he was no better. Silence hung between them for a moment, then the man closed his grip on Rufaizu’s shoulder and the boy tensed, pain shooting through his body. There was a wound there he hadn’t noticed before; it lit up with fury. The man held on tight as Rufaizu squirmed, screams muffled by the tube in his mouth.

  “They did this to you,” the man told him. “This and the one in your neck.”

  Rufaizu dug his teeth into the tube, as his eyes streamed. The bonds that held him dug into his wrists and ankles as he struggled.

  The man released his grip suddenly. “Are you gonna help me help you? You want me to stop those animals, once and for all?”

  Rufaizu nodded quickly, urgently, his body forcing the answer out even as his mind tried to resist. The man sat back. Rufaizu slumped, shuddering, fighting back sobs.

  “See, we can cooperate. You’re gonna write down their address, aren’t you?”

  Rufaizu eyed him again, regretting his moment’s weakness. But he remembered, now, they were shooting at him. Those were Fae gunshots. They could’ve shot the suit and they didn’t. And the implication was clear enough. If he defended them, after what they did, he was going to suffer, one way or another.

  The man spoke softly: “These creatures want you dead, Rufaizu. They’re a menace. You’re going to give me an address, and you’ll be doing the whole world a favour.”

  Rufaizu closed his eyes, preparing himself for it. It wouldn’t matter anyway, would it? There was no way Letty and the others would’ve stayed in their hideout after firing on a Ministry agent.

  Casaria straightened his jacket and tie as he left the prisoner’s room. Just being close to that homeless urchin made him feel dirty. He paused as the door swung shut behind him, finding Landon and Gumg waiting for him in the corridor.

  “You got something from the asset?” Landon asked.

  “The asset?” Casaria scoffed at the attempted sincerity. “He’s got a tube in his mouth, what could I get from him?”

  “Wherever he sent you, we’re going with you.”

  “He didn’t send me anywhere. Go in and ask him yourselves – I’m going out on patrol.”

  “I’ve been doing this job a long time, Cano. I know you want the Fae. The Ministry know it. You can pretend to patrol for a few hours, and we can watch while you do it, or you can cut straight to the chase.”

  “That’s a go-ahead, is it? I can do my job as long as you come along to stop me from doing it?”

  “We’ll make sure,” Landon said plainly, “that whatever is done is done right.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Gumg said, confirming the initial dislike that Casaria had felt for him. Casaria shook his head dismissively at the pale man. Gumg wasn’t deterred. “We’ve got our orders.”

  “All right,” Casaria said. “Come along. Give the Fae someone else to shoot at. Maybe I’ll get lucky and see them castrate you.”

  “We’re not looking for a fight,” Landon warned.

  “Don’t be naïve. Whether these Fae were under FTC orders or not, the fight’s already begun.”

  4

  Pax took in Riley’s Bettor Off with a mixture of awe and disgust. It cut a fine example of everything that was wrong with West Farling: a betting shop for the middle classes, taking all the grittiness and danger out of gambling to make it safe, bright and friendly. The shopfront of beech wood and clear glass looked in on low armchairs and coffee tables. Its flat-screen televisions were framed like antique pictures, and the tout’s counters had been fashioned in the style of an early-20th-century bank. This sort of innocuous spectacle of vice made West Farling an area Pax despised, even as she used it regularly for games. The rich businessmen around here enjoyed hosting her crowd as a challenge, when their games weren’t being done via the safety of the internet or as part of an off-limits millionaire’s club.

  She watched a young man in a two-tone shirt a
sk a patient teller for the odds on some race or another. Letty was up above in the eaves, a perch that Pax had barely been able to reach. Pax was not sure if the fairy was coming back, and was even less sure she should want her to. They might return in a whole pack, after all. With guns. She was confident she’d made progress with the tiny lunatic, though, and that there was a solution they could work out together. In the meantime, she was content to watch the affluent losers placing bets on a Sunday morning, and told herself this calm was awaiting her when she was done with the Sunken City. Letty would be free, the threats cancelled, and she could tell Casaria to stuff it. Rufaizu’s release would be a more long-term, administrative interest, which could wait until after she’d turned the money she had recovered into something workable.

  Her phone started ringing. She took it out quickly, hoping to see Barton returning her call.

  It was Casaria.

  “What?” she answered abruptly.

  “Where are you?” he replied, equally blunt.

  “Somewhere I’m supposed to be?”

  “You’re not home.”

  “And you’re not welcome to go looking for me there,” Pax said. “Do you even get what I do for a living? Why I do it?”

  “Of course I do. The same as me. And you can have all the time and space you need to do whatever you want. After we know we can trust each other.”

  “So…” Pax felt her patience wearing to breaking point. “I need your permission to go out now? Can’t go to the shops? Visit a friend? I didn’t ask for any of this.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? What friend?”

  Pax barely paused. “You want me to put her on? She can tell you to fuck off, too.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, Casaria biting back his irritation. “I wanted you to join me for something. It’s important.” His tone sounded forced through his nose, his jaw clamped shut.

  “Take a day off.”

  “That won’t work.”

  “Make it. Look, I’m busy –”

  “I really think you should tell me where you are.”

  “And I really think you should back off. We had a messed-up night last night, that’s two nights running. I need a break. If you don’t give me some space, I’ll snap, I swear.”

  Casaria was quiet. Hopefully feeling admonished. “I’ll give you today. Tomorrow, we’ll pick up where we left off. No fooling around.”

  Before she could respond, he hung up. Pax looked at the phone for a moment, rolled her eyes and put it away. As she did, another unwelcome man came towards her. Curly locks of hair, unnaturally broad shoulders, a gleaming white grin that drew attention to how narrow his mouth was. Milton Tran was an insufferable card player who wore suits in an impossibly unlikeable array of colours. Today’s choice was the off-mauve of a pensioner’s hair overdue for dyeing.

  “Pax? I thought it was you!” Tran went in for a strong, uninvited hug, the sort that had probably been practised to show off his firm chest. It made Pax wince. She didn’t return the hug, and he didn’t notice, letting go with a look of satisfaction. He said, “What are you doing here? At this time of day? I thought you only came out at night.”

  “Catching some Vitamin D,” Pax said. “You live here?”

  “Two blocks over, you know that,” Tran laughed. She had no idea where he lived; if he had ever told her, she hadn’t listened. “Come to bet on the nags. Got a sure thing, want in?”

  “Not my thing,” Pax replied.

  “With this tip, you should make it your thing. Say, though, what are the chances – we’ve got a game this evening, if you’re up for it. I’d pay money to see my alphas lose a hand to a girl.”

  Pax frowned, not sure whether to be offended or flattered. “How much?”

  Tran laughed. “Oh not literally. You’d do well though, I’m sure. Bankers from the city.”

  “As opposed to rural ones.”

  He laughed again. “Shoot. How long’s it been? Three months, at least. I’ve missed you, Pax. You hanging around? I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “Already eaten,” Pax said.

  “Coffee, then.”

  “How about you place your bet, and we can talk at this game of yours later?”

  The rebuttal made Tran stop, losing some of his cheer. He said, “Okay. Guess you’ve been up all night again, am I right?”

  “Yeah,” Pax replied without conviction. “You have fun now.”

  “I’ll message you the deets. If you change your mind about the coffee, I’ll be here.”

  He ducked into the shop, looking back at her, a little wary now. Pax gave him a one-handed wave, basically telling him to piss off. He turned away, and Letty called from above, “If you’re done flirting, can we go?”

  Pax looked up to the tiny lady standing directly above her, on the edge of the shop’s sign. She had a bag over one shoulder, and was clearly alone.

  “You gonna catch me?”

  Pax nodded and the fairy jumped without warning. Pax quickly raised her hands. With Letty’s weight, the fall was gentle, and she landed in Pax’s cupped palms with a little thump. Pax immediately closed her fingers over her as she took a step back, looking into the shop to see that one of the punters was watching and frowning. Tran, beyond the man, noticed the strange look and stared at Pax himself.

  “Where are your guys?” Pax asked quietly, backing off.

  “Gone,” Letty replied. “Taken their stuff, which means they’re already trying to pull off a scheme. Which means they’ve entered a world of shit. There’s half a dozen places they might’ve gone. We can start by heading to Hanton.”

  “As a random option?” Pax said. “How about we start by you thinking a bit more clearly about where we need to go, rather than keeping us moving out in the open where someone might notice us?”

  “Someone being...”

  “Who do you think?”

  Letty went quiet, staring at Pax while apparently considering her options.

  Pax turned on the spot, though, checking up and down the road. “Take your time,” she said. “We’re getting a coffee, at least.”

  5

  Mix and Fresko had never had much use for ceremony. When Valoria Magnus approached them and the nearby Fae guards stiffened to attention, the pair merely stared, unimpressed. She was a large lady, prone to indulgence and inactivity, and the act of travelling out of the Transitional City to meet them appeared to tire her. Her expression said she was angry before she had said a word, her footfalls shaking the corridor as she approached.

  “Where’s Letty? She has a lot to answer for.”

  “Letty’s gone,” Mix replied.

  Fresko added, “So’s Gambay, before you ask.”

  Valoria slowed down at this news. She settled her attention on Mix, deciding he was the leader. “What happened?”

  “The Ministry,” Fresko said coldly. “Some new girl, they got her to do it. Don’t like to say how.”

  Valoria kept her eyes on Mix. “Was this before or after you imbeciles tried to start a war?”

  “Letty was trying to make things right,” Mix said. “It got her killed. Since then, we’ve done things our way, and got results.”

  “Results!” Valoria let out a humourless laugh, a sound that came from the bottom of her gut. “You got the MEE hunting for us. The FTC is on high alert, ready to evacuate.”

  “It’ll be worth it,” Fresko said. She still did not look at him, eyes boring into Mix.

  “I’m aware that you failed to release, or silence, the boy. The popular feeling is that the Fae responsible should be executed. That the Ministry should be placated. Tell me what you could possibly have that would make me even consider letting you go.”

  “We needed the boy to get fuel for the Dispenser,” Mix said. “He was gonna persuade Citizen Barton to help. We found another way to persuade him.” Mix left a meaningful pause, savouring the surprise in Valoria’s face. “So, you want to make idle threats or you want our results
?”

  Valoria checked around her, the half-dozen guards appearing completely disengaged from the conversation. All of them had to be listening, though.

  “Yeah.” Fresko followed her thoughts. “Maybe we should talk in private?”

  The pair of mercenaries escorted Valoria and her single most trusted bodyguard down the steps of the emergency tunnel and out to the widening cavern of a human room. There, on the floor of the empty room, lay a large plastic bag, filled with what looked like a pile of dirt lit in blue highlights by occasional lightning sparks. Overcoming her initial surprise, Valoria flitted over to the bag with a few beats of her powerful wings. She landed next to it, hands greedily running over the moss. The men followed at a slower pace.

  “Where did you find this?” she asked.

  “Where Apothel said it was,” Mix said.

  She turned back to them, face steely. “And what do you expect us to do with it?”

  “Use it, what else? The boy found the Dispenser. And we know where he left it.” Mix walked past her, throwing a hand up towards the bag. “But we knew better than to bring it back without power. It’s worth at least a big fucking thank you, maybe a sorry or two along that road.”

  Valoria stepped back, taking in the crackling pile of dirt for a moment longer. “Do you have any idea what this means?”

  “Yeah,” Mix said. “It’s means we’re back in FTC favour, ain’t that right?”

  Valoria held his gaze. “Did the boy talk to you about it? Did he know what it was?”

  “He knew,” Fresko said. “We also know it was worth killing humans for before, so we figured you’d forgive a few casualties now.”

  This finally drew her to look at Fresko, her voice becoming more severe. “You need to learn your place. I never much liked Letty, but she at least had more sense than to antagonise the MEE. So don’t think you are entirely in the clear. This is merely a step in the right direction. I’ll send a team with you to collect the device.”