Eliza was next, panting with the effort of carrying the backpack. A moment later, I heard a grunt as Nick dropped from the ladder.
‘Maria,’ he called, ‘get down here!’
Her silhouette was above us, boots on the rungs. ‘Dobrev, hurry.’ She took one of her voyants’ hands and swung him on to the ladder below her. She said something to him in Bulgarian, and he choked an answer. Without hesitating, Maria reached up and closed the manhole cover.
There were six voyants out there, and the key was in here. The darkness was as good as a blindfold, but I could hear their footsteps, sense their dreamscapes clustering above. ‘Wait. No, wait for us,’ a voice cried, raw with terror. Another called out, ‘Underqueen! Maria, please!’
‘Just go, damn it,’ Maria shouted.
I grasped a rung. ‘Maria, what are you doing?’
‘They’re too close!’
She was right. The convoy was seconds away, certainly within sight of the manhole.
To do nothing would abandon them to the mercy of the soldiers. To lift the cover would compromise the only chance of survival we had.
‘Leave them.’
My words rang through the darkness. It took only seconds for the voyants’ footsteps to retreat.
The convoy ploughed over our heads. The thunderstorm of wheels and armour reverberated through the tunnel, so it seemed as if we stood in the stomach of a chthonic monster. My hands found a damp wall. I was a little girl again, cowering from the soldiers beneath a statue. All around the vehicles, single dreamscapes were moving at a slower rate. Foot-soldiers. One of them stopped a few feet from the manhole. In the shaft, Maria was motionless. I thought about ordering everyone to run, but one splash, one careless footstep, could give us all away. After almost a minute, the soldier gravitated back to the convoy.
It was a long time before anyone moved. Light flared from Nick’s torch, revealing the drawn faces of the group. Jos was tearful, Ivy looking at me strangely, and Eliza’s hands were over her mouth. When the rumble of the convoy had softened, the Bulgarian voyant tripped off the ladder. Maria jumped the last few feet and switched on a torch of her own. The two beams revealed a cramped brick passageway. The ripe smell of decay invaded my nose, laced with something more malodorous.
‘So,’ Maria said, ‘this is the Beneath. Home, sweet home.’
You would never have guessed from her face that several of her voyants had been left behind.
‘Why didn’t you let them in?’ Jos said to us. He sounded choked. ‘There was time.’
His confusion made my heart ache. Maria just handed her torch to the newcomer, Dobrev, and groped in the pocket of her oilskin.
‘I’m sorry, Jos. They weren’t fast enough,’ I said. ‘The soldiers would have chased us down here.’
‘You shouldn’t leave people behind just because they’re not fast enough.’
‘Well, we had to, kid,’ Maria bit out. ‘If we hadn’t, the rest of us would have been killed. Including the Underqueen.’ She took a cigarette out and stuck it between her teeth. Her hands were shaking. ‘They know I would never have left them unless there was no choice.’
I believed it. Maria was one of the few members of the Unnatural Assembly, who had gone out of her way to show her voyants that she cared about their welfare.
Jos’s cheeks were tear-stained. Wynn caught Maria’s wrist before she could light up.
‘Not here,’ she said. ‘Sewer gas.’
‘Oh, lovely.’ Maria chucked the cigarette away. ‘They’ll find another entrance.’
It was possible, if they could meet up with another cell. Jos perked up.
‘Here’s the river.’ Maria shone her torch on greenish water. ‘No sign of shit. Yet.’
‘We’re meeting Styx’s contact in the storm drain,’ Wynn said. ‘Follow me.’
We ventured into the darkness, carrying what few possessions we had brought. The River Fleet coursed between the walls, a cryptic cousin of the Thames. Wynn chalked marks on the walls along the way.
This was the beginning of the end. Nashira’s reprisal was finally here.
A suspicion that had been bubbling away for days came to the surface. ‘Senshield wasn’t developed in isolation,’ I said, thinking aloud. ‘It was always meant to enhance ScionIDE. The soldiers are spirit-blind, so they need mechanical eyes to detect us. The scanners’ spread must have always been timed to coincide with their arrival.’
‘Senshield detects, ScionIDE destroys.’ Nick caught a wall for support. ‘Warden was right about the Vigiles, then. They’re superfluous, or soon will be.’
‘Not until the scanners go portable, which I imagine is on the cards.’ Maria flicked her torch towards the wall, revealing the slime Nick had just put his hand in. He grimaced and removed it. ‘If that happens, though . . . yes, then the voyant Vigiles are doomed. Krigs don’t work with unnaturals, and they’ll have no further purpose.’
Above us, ScionIDE was on the march. How many of the thousands of voyants in the syndicate would get to the Beneath? How many would be killed trying to reach it on my orders?
And it could all be for nothing. If a single entrance was compromised, we would find ourselves smoked out like a plague of rats.
There were plenty of rats down here. They twitched under our torchlight.
We waded upstream against a gentle current. The water wasn’t too deep, but with the supplies weighing us down, it wasn’t easy work. Jaxon would pop a rib laughing if he ever got wind of this. The Underqueen’s glorious descent into the sewers.
Wynn led us down a ladder, into the storm drain, which was just about dry enough to sit in.
‘One of the toshers will collect us from here.’ She sat on the slope of the tunnel, so only her boots were in the water. ‘They’re moving us to one of Scion’s old crisis facilities. They were built by Scion in its early days in case of war or invasion, but it seems they were forgotten when better ones were constructed.’
We could only hope.
Ivy ran a hand over her bristly hair. ‘Are they dry?’
Wynn squeezed water from her skirts. ‘So they say.’
Beside me, Nick’s brow rested against his clasped hands. It wasn’t hard to guess who he was thinking about.
Eliza dug into her rucksack and handed out packets of biscuits. We shared a canteen of water to offset their dryness. Jos had been bright-eyed with distress, but he soon dozed off against Ivy, who curled an arm around him. Dobrev elected to sleep, too, and didn’t seem to care how filthy he got doing it. Parts of the tunnel were caked in what looked like used toilet paper, so I rested my head on my knees, which weren’t much cleaner, and tried to clear my head. Only hours ago I had been lying with Warden in the light of the fire. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then.
Time moves strangely underground. I had left my watch at the den, but it had to be past sunrise. One of the torches flickered out.
‘Reminds you of the Rookery, doesn’t it?’