The Malice (13 page)

‘Then which of them would you rather serve?’

Samael stops. He wants to say that he does not care but that would be a lie. Without another word, he makes for the door.

And as his boots ring out on tarnished steps, the Man-shape smiles its inhuman smile.

Long ago, Wonderland was adorned with necrotic pipes and posts, unliving structures bonded with the steel and plastics of the original city. Only stains of their rot remain now, cleared away by rain and a myriad of creatures, happy to feed on old meat.

Vesper wanders slowly through empty streets, head tilted up to take in the dizzying sights. On the walls of the outermost towers are faded marks: rough warnings repeated on every side. At the base of these towers is a barrier of debris, ten metres high, made from rubbish, mud and yellowing bones. The mud is uniformly grey brown, the bones a maddening variety of animal, human and blends in-between.

She stops in front of it. The kid stops next to her.

‘Do you think this is the sort of wall that keeps people out or that keeps people in?’

The kid sniffs at the base of the barrier and quickly steps back.

Vesper takes the hint and squeezes her nose before peering more closely.

In places, time has decayed the barrier, sections have partially collapsed, making a climb possible. Rain has begun the excavation of a giant’s fleshless forearm. Once the property of a Usurperkin, now a key support in the wall. Vesper marvels at its size for a moment, then eyebrows shoot up, inspired. She extracts an old tube from the wall and pokes it through the gap between radius and ulna. The mottled plastic slides through the mud on the other side, going deeper and deeper until Vesper’s arm is passing through the bone and she is leaning against the barrier, drinking in its stench. Loose bits of matter spill down onto her shoulders, clump in her hair. She tries to push away, her hand sinking in a couple of inches before finding purchase. Wet earth fills the space between her splayed fingers and she feels the edge of something else, a horror yet hidden.

The girl jumps back, gagging, pale, and vomit rises in her throat, threatening to appear.

Bemused, the kid watches from a safe distance.

There is coughing, a distinctly wet burp and the danger passes.

‘I can’t do this,’ she says quietly. ‘I can’t.’ But thoughts of Duet haunt her. If the Harmonised dies, it will be her fault and she is already full with guilt. ‘I must do this.’ She repeats it, a mantra: ‘I must do this. I must do this.’

When breathing has returned to normal, Vesper pulls her top up over her mouth and begins scavenging again. Eventually she finds an aerial, bent in the middle to form a circle, approximately neck-sized. She straightens out the metal, then uses it to unblock the tube that she has placed through the muddy wall. Her tools are imperfect and progress is slow.

The kid sits down.

Sometimes the aerial yields before the mud does and Vesper has to straighten it again. She glances around, then whispers a curse, experimental. Cheeks flush with daring and she swears again, suddenly feeling very grown up.

At last, the aerial forces out the last of the blockage and Vesper is able to see through the tube to the other side. The view is limited. A courtyard strewn with debris, some of it human, some of it twitching. Handlings scuttle from one shadow to the next, while bald birds with no feathers and sagging bellies line up on a nearby rooftop.

She looks back to the kid. ‘It’s horrible over there but I think we’ll be okay. Shall we climb over?’

The kid gives her a sour look.

‘Okay,’ she agrees, glad to move away from the barrier’s edge. ‘Let’s try and find another way in. Come on!’

The kid springs up.

Vesper wanders around the perimeter and finds the barrier continues in a large square, linking the towers and sealing in the gaps.

A noise startles them both, a growl, animalistic. It is not clear what makes it and Vesper has no wish to find out. Legs protest at the idea of further running.

She studies the buildings as the growling draws closer, her eyes alighting on a low window, one of the few to be broken but not boarded. She pulls out the biggest chunks of plasglass from the frame and drapes her coat over the smaller ones.

It is a simple thing to lift the kid over. A rough tongue laps at her face as she drops the young goat on the other side. Then she pulls herself through.

Dust cakes the room and its contents, muting colours and blending objects. A single chair takes centre stage, cut from a chunk of LiveFoam and still holding the imprint of its last occupant. The chair is tilted at an angle, perfect for reclining or sleep.

Vesper draws the kid close and crouches low under the window. The kid sniffs at her ears and she has the ridiculous urge to giggle. ‘Ssh,’ she whispers.

The growling creature moves by the wall now. She closes her eyes, unable to stop her imagination creating images, vivid, of the monster outside and how she would look hanging from its jaws.

Outside, the growling stops.

The kid trembles against her as Vesper holds her breath.

The growling sounds again but further away this time. As quickly as the creature arrived, it has gone.

Fear washes away in a tide of relief, followed quickly by a crushing sense of fatigue.

On hands and knees, Vesper crawls across the room and pulls herself onto the chair. The kid follows, settling onto her lap.

‘We can’t stay here long,’ she tells him, stroking the top of his head. ‘Duet needs us.’

Vesper lets the chair take the weight from her heels and her head. Her eyes feel heavy but she dares not let them close. As she fights to stay awake a new wonder presents itself. From this angle, Vesper can see sky-ships hanging from the ceiling. A fleet in miniature, suspended in the air, slowly rotating. Every detail is perfectly captured and, unlike everything else, their surfaces are free of dust, glinting, winking as they turn.

She recognises one of the models, matching it to memories of sky-ships soaring about the Shining City. But most of them are unfamiliar, older designs no longer used, or rarer ones, lost in battle or left to rust.

The kid licks the sweat from Vesper’s hands before falling asleep. ‘You poor thing. You can have a few minutes, just to make sure that creature really has gone but that’s all.’ She blinks slowly, her eyes reluctant to open again. ‘Just a few minutes,’ she murmurs.

A moaning wakes her. A distant, hollow noise, evoking a sense of size and misery.

Sitting up, the first thing Vesper notices is the waning light. A brief blink has become a long sleep, her treacherous body stealing back lost slumber. Questions haunt her. How much time has passed? Does Duet still live? How did this happen? Ashamed, she turfs the kid from her lap and climbs out of the chair. It seems reluctant to let her leave. After a short struggle, she hops down and crosses to the door. The sensor above the doorway dimmed years ago and the mechanisms that moved it have stopped forever.

She places her hands against the smooth surface and starts to push it sideways. Both girl and door grunt and groan as it slides slowly into its housing.

On the other side is a much smaller room, covered in empty containers. Vesper crunches over them to get to the window.

Now the moaning is easier to hear. Vesper shudders but goes to look anyway. The kid joins her, stretching up on hind legs, front hooves on the sill.

They see the courtyard in all its horrific detail and it becomes apparent why the bodies still twitch. A torso, bereft of legs, head rotting, eyeless, is dragged across the square by two tentacles growing from its back. Bits of string are tangled with its trailing innards and these in turn collect more treasures: a torn bag, a small chain that glints and a branch covered in leaves, green and thick.

Entranced, the kid’s eyes follow its slow progress, a long string of saliva dangling from his chin.

But it is not the source of the moaning. Vesper has to look up to see that. A half-alive giant lurks behind a nearby tower. Even a tiny section of its silhouette inspires terror. Hooked legs sprout like horns from its moonlike face, a mane of limbs, shaking, sorrowful.

Vesper ducks out of sight, fighting down the vomit. She sits low, letting the wall press cold into her back and murmurs to herself. ‘Can’t do it.’ She wants to help her friend. She wants to be a hero like her father. ‘I can’t do it.’ Fear crowds out thought and she covers her face.

The kid cannot bear it any longer. He springs up, scattering containers, to wobble on the window’s edge.

Vesper looks up to see hooves flying, gone. Her arm stretches for where the kid was, the gesture as wasted as her shout: ‘Wait!’

The girl peers out to see the kid scampering across the square. For the moment, the giant has not noticed him.

Hissed pleas to come back are ignored. Getting desperate, she pulls herself half out of the window and raises her voice in a feeble shout: ‘Please stop!’

The kid glances back, tongue lolling.

‘Yes, that’s it. Come back.’

The kid looks again at the torso and its tail of leaves. There is no contest.

Vesper watches, locked with fear as the kid leans down to bite.

Tentacles pull the torso clear of snapping jaws and the kid comes up with nothing. He hops in surprise and goes after the torso again.

The giant’s head turns towards him.

Unable to bear it any longer, Vesper jumps down into the square and runs after the kid. She keeps low, back hunched like an old man, head down. She is no less visible for it.

The kid chews happily, branch hanging from his mouth, still tangled with dirty string and stringy flesh. When tentacles pull again, the torso moves and the kid moves with them. Hooves slide on stone, then find purchase. The kid pulls back.

A few hard inches are won before the tentacles continue on their way, mindless, taking torso and treasures and hanger-on with them.

Frowning, the kid pulls back.

Vesper arrives. She grabs the branch and snaps it, leaving one half in the kid’s mouth and the other still attached. Then she frowns and looks at the body again. Up close, the horror is less convincing. The eyeless face is more waxlike than lifelike and the tentacles make clicking sounds, regular, their inner working more the turning of wheels than the swirling of essence.

She glances over her shoulder to look at the sword. It still sleeps, unmoved by the theatrics.

While Vesper thinks, the kid chews.

Another moan brings her attention to the giant. It faces them now, shaking its head in anger. Vesper reaches around to touch the sword at her back. Nothing. Not even a slight quiver. She stands up and pulls out the scope. With magnification, she makes out wires attaching the head to the side of the building.

The moaning gets louder, the head shakes more violent. The mane of legs rattles like a nest of snakes. Then one falls off, landing with a hollow clunk.

Vesper smiles and walks towards it.

Still chewing, the kid trots after her.

The fallen leg is a prosthetic, wrapped in cloth, red dye unnecessarily bright. Vesper nudges it with her foot to be sure.

‘Hello?’ she calls out. ‘Is anyone there?’ The giant roars, the kid jumps, fearful. Vesper sighs. ‘You can come out. I’m not going to hurt you.’

There is no response from the giant.

She raises the scope to her eye again and traces the wires from the back of giant’s head to an opening high in the tower. It is a simple matter to skirt the base of the building until she finds a door. Unlike the one before it opens easily.

A chute runs from the floor up through the ceiling. An oval has been cut from one side, allowing access. Vesper approaches it. Whatever arcane forces that used to propel people up and down have been replaced by a dirty ladder.

‘Stay here,’ she says to the kid, giving him a last pat on the head before ascending.

Dark eyes track the girl until she is out of sight. Then, the kid sits and gets down to the serious business of eating.

The climb is long enough for worries to surface. Vesper climbs on anyway, not sure what else to do.

Five floors later, and Vesper steps out of the chute into a circular room. In a previous life, it served as a viewing platform, augmented eyes transmitting images via necrotic pipes. The walls that Vesper sees are blank, save for the rows of sockets, dried up, like a score of wizened earholes.

The wires from the giant’s head come in through a window, gathering together in a complicated knot at the back of a machine. The front of it is full of levers, and on top, a pair of brassy megaphones sit, one inside the other, humming softly.

By the machine stands a girl, not much off Vesper’s height, dressed in baggy clothes with rolled-up sleeves and metal pins in her trousers. Dark hair falls uneven over a purple face.

On Vesper’s back, the sword shifts in its sleep. She takes out the gun. ‘Don’t move.’

The half-breed shrinks back against the wall.

‘Now, you’d better tell me …’ she begins but pauses as she notices the way the other girl’s hands shake. ‘… You’d better tell me who …’ It strikes her how young the girl looks. How scared. She puts the gun back in her pocket. ‘It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.’

The half-breed doesn’t meet her eye. ‘True like?’

‘Yes. I’m Vesper.’

‘Runty.’

‘What, is that your name?’

The half-breed puffs out her chest. ‘Yeah.’

Vesper stifles a laugh. ‘Are you alone here?’

‘No. There’s loads of us. And if you did anything to me, they’d come get you.’

‘Okay.’

‘And do bad things, lots of times.’

‘Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I have a friend who is badly injured. Do you know anyone who could help her?’

Runty nods, very serious. ‘You need to see Neer. She knows things. She’s a fixer.’

‘Is she close?’

‘She’s in the Don’t Go, where all the maggots and buzzers are.’

‘Will you show me?’

‘As long as you swear.’

‘Swear what?’

‘That you won’t make her angry.’

*

Past broken villages and gutted towers, Samael marches. He keeps a steady pace, unfazed by night and day. Legs no longer tire, muscles obey without question. He finds it hard recalling the meaning of rest. With little of the physical to distract him, and only a bleak landscape to entertain, thoughts turn inward, chasing each other, repetitive.