by Trevor Hopkins

I left Trinity to make her statement, and rejoined Rosie and Gumshoe in the waiting area. Luncardy had gone off somewhere, no doubt busy with her own concerns. No doubt she had other cases to worry about. It seemed we had been dismissed.

"What did Trinity say?" Gumshoe asked.

"Nothing that assists us immediately, I'm afraid," I replied, "Although it might just help if we need the cooperation of the police."

"It might come to that," Gumshoe demurred. I had a sneaky suspicion he was right.

I pulled open the front door of 14th precinct station, stepped outside with the others following, then stood on the worn stone steps and looked around. Something was not right here. The others noticed it too.

"Where's Nether?" Rosie asked anxiously, looking up and down the wide paved street outside.

My brother was nowhere to be seen, and no indication where he might be or where he had gone. Typical. Gone about his own business without a bye-your-leave or even a goodbye. No doubt he would re-appear when he wanted something. But there was something else, something that had me itching between the shoulder-blades. We were under surveillance.

"We're being watched," I hissed to Gumshoe, "Let's get out of here, quickly, and back to the surface."

"Right," Gumshoe agreed, loosening the buttons on his coat in case he needed something from inside in a hurry.

We stuck to the main streets and heavily populated thoroughfares. There was no point in trying to lose the tail; humans are sufficiently rare down here that we would be all too easy to find again. Our best chance was to hit the transit tubes and stick to highly populated areas. Those that followed us were Goblins, I was sure of it. The way the shadows changed, the scrapes and hisses on the edge of hearing all indicated skilled locals. Humans simply can't move like that.

At the moment, we weren't being shot at - that would have attracted far too much attention on these busy streets. But I could sense the fizz and snap of offensive glamours being deployed: not deadly, but intended to confuse, to distract, to slow down, to trip up. I know some counters to these kinds of things: counter-spells and I had practiced some ways of thinking which helps one to keep focus under fire. But I had to guide both Gumshoe and Rosie - they had no such protections or practice - practically dragging them in what I thought was the best direction.

Even under fire, it occurred to me that I did not often have to dodge or deflect such spells. Put simply, nobody uses them any more, being illegal, difficult to acquire and exceptionally expensive. It seemed that somebody out there really wanted us out of action and was sparing no expense to make it so. Both Gumshoe and I had our handguns out, although there was nothing to shoot at, no target; despite the confusions and traps being rained down upon us, our attackers had not yet shown themselves.

"We're too exposed out here," I said softly to Gumshoe, "We need to find some cover."

"I'm lost down here," he replied grimly, "Just tell me where to go."

We were approaching the mouth of a likely-looking alley, liberally festooned with overfilled dumpsters and other clutter to hide behind.

"In here," I cried, tugging Rosie's arm.

We were huddled behind the largest of the dumpsters with both Gumshoe and I trying to draw a bead on the shadows behind us when suddenly, inexplicably, the ground opened up beneath us and we fell, down a dark chimney that seemed to go on for ever.

I must have lost consciousness as I fell. The last thing I could remember clearly, for a long while, was Rosie's plaintive wail.

"Oh no, not again."

Part 70 Part 72