Tristus the garghoul awoke to find tiny silver mice creeping around at his feet. This was a peculiar and worrying development. Usually the other creatures in his lair ignored him, exactly if he were just a piece of stone. Now he had attracted a most unwelcome thing: curiosity.
He was hurt, tired, barely able to think. He groaned inwardly as it all came back to him – the fight with the smoglodytes on the roof. He had protected the boy, but been badly clawed and poisoned. He had made it back to his refuge in the Dodo’s cavern, and entered his stone dream to give his body time to heal.
The little mice beneath him became excited and started to dart around, squeaking. Moments later, a pair of big black rats loped into view, brushing the mice aside and sniffing officiously along the rock ledge the garghoul had called home for almost a century.
The rats lifted their snouts, sat back on their haunches and let out a high-pitched whine, horrible to hear, but mercifully brief. Then heavy keys clattered and snapped at locks, and the metal doors crashed open. A crooked human shape loomed over the garghoul. A bony Caspian Tiger lurked behind him.
‘Something has changed,’ growled the Dodo, inspecting Tristus closely. ‘This is not the dull, dead creature I recall!’
Tristus kept his eyes closed and remained as still as only a garghoul can. The Dodo crouched down and faced Tristus with a deep sigh.
‘You were supposed to be the pride of my collection,’ the Dodo said at length. ‘When I rescued you from the ruins of the network a hundred years ago, I considered you my greatest discovery. But you became my biggest disappointment. Never waking – never speaking! Never opening those fabled eyes.’
Tristus could hear the bitterness – loneliness even – in the Dodo’s voice. But garghouls do not choose to communicate with many mortals, and he remained silent.
‘You’re not a statue, sir!’ the Dodo said. ‘Living creatures have been my lifelong study – and a living thing is undoubtedly what you are. Your demeanor has changed – you are somehow … alert.’
The tiger licked at the black damp drizzle of guts on the rock ledge, which had caused such interest amongst the rodents. The Dodo bent down with an awkward lurch to sniff the spot.
‘You’ve been eating, too!’ he said, his eyes aglow with intrigue. He slapped the tiger on the haunch and it slunk away obediently. He ran his fingers through the curious straggle of wet innards and lifted them up to his nostrils.
‘Smoglodytes!’ he murmured, rising slowly. ‘This paints a more dangerous picture.’ The rodents, sensing their master’s excitement, scurried to his side. The tiger rumbled a deep-throated growl.
Tristus tried to pull his muddled wits together. His human visitor was not the sleepy, bored old man who had been shambling through these caverns for decades. Sir Peregrine had become charged with a new intensity – a new power. The garghoul knew he had now lost his safe, quiet lair.
‘Dr Saint must have struck a deal with the smoglodytes!’ the Dodo muttered. ‘No wonder the Society of Good Works strut about this city with such confounded arrogance!’
The Dodo suddenly grabbed Tristus and stretched out one of his bat-like wings. The leathery skin was freshly scarred, partially torn.
‘You’ve been out there – I knew I could smell it on you. I expect the smoglodytes gave you these souvenirs!’ the Dodo added. A mixture of anger and dismay contorted his features. ‘You’re awake! Confound you, sir! I know you’re awake!’
Time to go, Tristus said to himself.
‘Why?’ the Dodo roared. ‘Why won’t you speak?’
The garghoul rose. The Dodo staggered back.
‘A – a hundred years without motion, and now you stand before me!’ the astonished man exclaimed. A tiny glitter of light like stardust appeared in the garghoul’s narrowed eyes.
‘You’re involved in all these events, aren’t you?’ the Dodo whispered in awe. ‘I know you can speak – tell me what’s going on!’
The garghoul sprang into the air, beat its powerful wings and disappeared into the shadows of the ceiling.
‘It’s dead down here,’ Chloe said. ‘There’s nothing more we can learn. Come on, let’s try another level.’ She pointed upwards.
They retraced their steps, glad to get away from the eerie graveyard. Halfway back across the mire, Theo stopped next to a colossal upturned tree root and glanced back. He clutched at Chloe and pointed over the mists. There, on the memorial where they had so recently stood, was the impish silhouette of a smoglodyte.
‘That was close!’ Chloe hissed. They backpedalled behind the tree root and stared. The single figure sprang up, waving its arms wildly. In moments the memorial stone was swarming with smoglodytes.
‘What are they doing?’ Theo wondered nervously.
‘It’s sweet the way you think I know everything,’ snapped Chloe. ‘How the heck do I know? They aren’t there to lay flowers, that’s for sure!’
For a horrible moment Theo had the impression the swarm of smoglodytes was heading their way. Then he was certain of it – they were.
‘Come on!’ he said, wading away as fast as he could. Chloe didn’t need any persuading. The mist over the mire hid them pretty well, but there was no point in taking chances. They struggled back to the foot of the great stairway.
‘Straight up,’ Chloe ordered. They ascended, their wet clothes weighing them down. After a few minutes, Theo peered out across the vapours and was sure he could see tiny heads bobbing up and down, a whole troop of smoglodytes heading towards the staircase.
‘They’re on to us!’ he called up to Chloe. ‘What now?’
‘We keep climbing!’ she said.
Theo felt sick. He had collapsed on to his knees on the second landing. This was the level he and Chloe had used before, to escape from the Dodo. Chloe listened at the circular hatchway.
‘Let’s get in here. I know it like the back of my hand. I’ll find a place to rest up before we do any more spying! The Society of Good Works might even have a canteen down here. We can disguise ourselves and get a bacon sandwich.’
Theo knew she was joking, trying to make him forget his exhaustion. She made a last, vain attempt to listen through the hatchway, then opened a glass plate over the central plaque that activated the door.
For a moment Theo thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but a steady gaze removed all doubt. Even through his thick gloves, his hands had started to glow faintly.
‘Don’t open it!’ he hissed. ‘There must be somebody on the other side!’
It was too late. Chloe had already activated the hatch.
The shaven-headed brute of a guard looked shocked as the doorway sprang open, revealing two bedraggled intruders. He pulled a gun from a shoulder holster, but Chloe leapt through the hatch, grabbed his wrist and smashed his hand against the wall. The guard cried out, but did not drop his gun. He grabbed Chloe with his free hand and hurled her to the floor.
Theo threw himself through the hatchway. The guard swung a fist and smashed Theo back through the hatch without taking his eyes off Chloe, whom he had identified as the dangerous one of the two. Theo stumbled to his feet and tore off his gauntlets. A flicker of pale fire played around his fingers. He gulped. Was he really going to use his terrible power again? Would it even work for him this time?
Chloe was trying to struggle to her feet, but a ruthless boot sent her sprawling back across the ground. Theo, climbing back through the hatch, saw a trickle of blood on her cheek.
He stared with horror at the brutality of the guard as he fought Chloe. It was now or never. Concentrating on his hands, he tried to summon the power. He dug deep into his heart and mind, like a runner asking his body for a final effort in a desperate race. Suddenly his fingers began to burn brightly with a ghostly flame.
‘Bad luck, lady,’ the guard growled. ‘Orders from the top say don’t bother taking any prisoners!’
He raised his gun. But he never pulled the trigger. Theo had dived forwards and touched the guard’s trailing fingers. The Foundling froze like a statue. His body became engulfed in a green glow. Two bulging eyes stared in terror before they melted and flowed down the man’s cheeks. The heavy blue overalls bubbled, shredded and streamed away. The gun clattered to the ground. The Foundling was soon a pool of warm pink slime on the tunnel floor.
‘Oh, wow,’ Chloe gasped, staring at the smoking remains. She then swore, using several words which Theo had never heard before.
‘Nice one, Theo. Now I can see why Foley was so scared of you,’ she whispered. She wiped blood away from her lip, tossed her hair out of her face. ‘I mean, hearing about it is one thing – actually seeing it is another …’
Theo looked away from the guard’s smoking remains. Grim faced, he pulled his gloves back on.
‘Perhaps you can see now why I wanted to keep it secret for as long as possible,’ he said anxiously. ‘I mean, even someone as brave and crazy as you isn’t going to want to hang out with a freak who can melt people to death!’ Instead of feeling triumphant after the fight, he just felt miserable.
‘Nonsense, Theo,’ Chloe said, pulling herself together. ‘In fact, you’re just the kind of friend a brave and crazy person like me needs.’ She smiled, and for the first time – in a very long time – Theo felt as if everything was going to be all right.
‘And don’t worry,’ Chloe added. ‘What else could you do? Would you rather we were both lying here dead?’ She closed the door-hatch and looked around with her habitual caution.
‘No wonder you’re such big news.’ Chloe’s mind was racing. ‘A boy born with a real life death touch. If the Society of Good Works could study – maybe replicate – your power, the world would be in serious trouble.’
‘Well, don’t forget they put me in that Mercy Tube every day. You must have seen that on your spying missions at Empire Hall.’
‘Of course!’ Chloe gasped. ‘I guess the world must already be in serious trouble.’ She started to pace ahead into the darkness. ‘Thanks for saving my life by the way.’ She grinned, glancing back over her shoulder.
They were unlucky. The network was no longer the quiet catacomb Chloe had so often slipped through before. Now it was a hive of activity. She knew how to keep to the shadows, but there were precious few shadows left. Arc lights, rigged to mobile generators, shone brightly on scenes of great industry. Chemicals were being unpacked by Foundling slaves, measured by Society scientists, supervised by members of the Board.
One of the underground canals that had been disused for decades was now busy with small boats laden with drums of chemicals. Chloe noted that a team of Foundlings were pouring sacks of a pale grey powder straight into the water.
‘What are they up to?’ she wondered. Drawn by all this enemy activity like a moth to a flame, Chloe sneaked in too close to discover what the chemicals were. She was spotted, her shadow thrown against a cavern wall by one of the electric lamps.
‘Intruders!’ squawked the hysterical voice of Lord Dove. ‘Get them!’
Chloe cursed. ‘Retreat!’
She tried to lead Theo back the way they had come, but a group of guards was marching down from that direction.
Theo’s hands flickered with light. Chloe grabbed him by the coat and dragged him down a side passage.
‘We’ll be OK,’ she panted. ‘There’s always a secondary hatch near a major doorway.’ She soon spotted what she was looking for up ahead.
‘Open it!’ shouted Theo, hearing echoing footsteps getting nearer. Chloe looked in dismay at the hatch. It was welded shut, sprayed with a red ‘L’ and adorned with a bar-code sticker.
‘What are they doing?’ she cried out. She had been banking on this exit – now there was only one other way to go.
‘Follow me and don’t look back,’ Chloe said. She sprinted down the passage to their left. It opened out into a long brick tunnel, with a culvert of black water trickling down the middle. ‘Faster!’ she shrieked, as an ear-splitting crack reverberated around them and a bullet whined off the brickwork nearby. They rounded a corner, momentarily safe from attack.
‘Oh no!’ Chloe gasped. She was staring at the tunnel ahead. It was bricked up, with fresh mortar dribbling from the cracks, and also sprayed with an ‘L'.
‘What is that?’ Chloe gasped. ‘What does “L” stand for?’ Now she led Theo down the only remaining tunnel, running along a narrow ledge above the increasingly wide black stream.
‘We’re heading towards the main canal,’ she shouted. ‘On the borders of the gulag!’ Theo recalled she had mentioned the gulag before, but its significance escaped him. Another bullet ricocheted through the tunnel, burying itself in a wall not far behind them.
‘This is it!’ said Chloe as they reached a pair of archways. ‘All we have to do is –’ She stopped dead. Marching footsteps were echoing down one of the two ways ahead. Coming towards them.
‘That sounds like a lot of people!’ Theo said, dismayed. His hands were luminous with pale green flame, but he knew in his heart that he could never take on such a large enemy force.
‘Faster!’ shrieked a familiar voice from down the tunnel. ‘We can cut them off if we’re quick!’
Theo felt his stomach churn. That voice belonged to Dr Saint.
‘OK, so we go this way,’ Chloe said, a strange look of resignation on her face. She pointed Theo to the black mouth of the only tunnel left available to them. Theo was surprised when Chloe reached out and held him by the hand.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said.
‘Why should I – or shouldn’t I – be afraid?’ Theo asked in his smallest voice.
Chloe spoke in a reverent hush. ‘This is the way into the gulag. Home of the Eighty-eight. Nobody sane goes down here. Ever. But look on the bright side,’ she added as they plunged into the darkness. ‘Our enemies won’t be following us.’