The Shambling Guide to New York City (29 page)

Zoë frowned, thinking of everything that had surprised Arthur in the past several days. “But shouldn’t Public Works know everything about the coterie if you’re leading them? Arthur didn’t know much about zoëtists or the Rat’s Nest.”

Fanny laughed again. “They know what they need to know. When we need to discover the Rat’s Nest, we will. I assume by the way Arthur was holding his arm that he got a zombie bite the other night? And he’s doing all right now?”

Zoë’s mouth fell open. “Yes, but—well, if you know a zoëtist can hold off the zombie curse, then why doesn’t the rest of Public Works know it?”

Fanny frowned. “There are many reasons, my ripe orange. It’s expensive. Not many can do it, not well, anyway. But mostly, when someone is bitten, they’re usually devoured. There are very few simple zombie bites.”

“Why don’t you have a zoëtist on staff?”

“We have to police them too, and they don’t want to be part of that. They’d be a pariah to their own kind.”

Zoë sat back, feeling a little ill at the thought that people were dying because of money and the availability of health care. She guessed that problem was everywhere.

She focused on the matter at hand. “So do you believe me about the zoëtist coming to town? Will you do something about her?”

Fanny nodded slowly. “I believe you believe there’s a problem. I also know that you’re not as experienced with coterie as you’d like to think you are. You fear this woman on a level that you do not fear even your boss. I can smell it on you.” Her nostrils flared and she inhaled with gusto. “You’d pee yourself if you got any more frightened. You’re afraid of her for your own sake, not the city’s.”

Zoë’s face flushed in anger and embarrassment. “I won’t deny that, but my boss thinks it’s a danger too. She’s been messing with the zombies of the city. She made a construct specifically to antagonize me. People are dying, and zombies are dying, uh, again, because of it. She is dangerous.”

Fanny stretched, her chair creaking loudly. “I understand that. Most of us are dangerous. We’ll watch the usual zoëtist haunts: cemeteries, power stations. I’d put someone watching the airports, but is she coming into JFK or LaGuardia or Newark? What time is she coming in? Does she suspect we know she’s coming and will therefore drive into the city instead?”

Zoë blanched. “I—I don’t know.” She could call Godfrey, but that was dangerous, because he might be with Lucy. And the idiot might still have Zoë’s name programmed into his cell.

“Then we likely will have to wait and see. It is probably nothing. The city hasn’t been threatened on a major level for—” Fanny stopped talking, and tilted her head as if she was listening.

“What’s wrong?” Zoë asked.

She stood with a fluid motion, her body contracting, become smaller and more muscular. The lights flickered once, then twice, and the ubiquitous building hum that indicated air units and electric devices and computers stopped, and shouts of alarm came up in the hall.

“What’s wrong?” Zoë repeated. “It’s just a power flicker.”

“Public Works doesn’t get power flickers. If it happens to us, then something is wrong. Arthur!” The last part was a barking command, and Arthur ran inside the room.

“Get your friend to safety. Then get down the Blue Tunnel to watch the sewers. Send any team leads you come across in the halls to me. We are likely under attack.”

He nodded once and grabbed Zoë’s hand, pulling her out of the room.

“What’s going on?” she asked as he pulled her down the hall, pausing to stop people and give them orders. Emergency lights illuminated the dark hallway as they ran forward.

“Something’s messing with the electricity. Probably something in the sewers. I need to turn off the water to the building before they attack that, and see what’s going on.”

“I’m going with you.”

He didn’t even bother to stop and argue. He just kept pulling her. She tried to resist. “Arthur, you know I can handle myself, I can help you, let me go with you.”

He ignored her until they were in front of the massive doors. He opened one of them, picked her up, and deposited her outside. “Go home. Be safe. I can’t worry about you right now.”

With that, he slammed the door in her face. She blinked, outraged. Outside, dusk was falling, and the city bustled along, completely ignorant of the panic going on inside the walls. Zoë shrugged and wrestled open the door, heading back into the chaos that was Public Works.

It was surprisingly easy to find the Blue Tunnel. She decided to find a sympathetic woman who had experience with male-dominated jobs. All it took was finding a low-level female
employee and complaining that it was her first day and her team wouldn’t let her follow them into the sewers, even though Ms. Hogbottom had ordered Zoë to shadow Arthur.

Fanny’s word was law, and the woman, a young Korean desk clerk, could appreciate the implied sexism. After showing Zoë where she could get a new pair of coveralls, she pointed down a hall and instructed her to take the stairs down, and the third door on the right. Zoë nodded, thanked her, and followed her instructions at a run.

As she was counting the doors, Zoë shook her head.
Weapons cupboard
, a voice whispered, and she looked around in alarm. She was alone, but at the end of the hall stood a closed cupboard. She ran to it and opened it.

Hanging inside were an assortment of knives, swords, police batons, crossbows, and even a few guns. She wondered why they didn’t use guns more often, but now wasn’t the time to wonder about that. She grabbed a belt with two sheathed knives and strapped it to her waist. Three knives should be enough, she figured.

Someday I’m going to have to find out what that voice is, or if I’m going mad
, she thought.
But not right now.

Zoë had steeled herself for the sewers not to be wide, well lit from unknown sources, and clean, with some clear water cascading down the walls, as she’d seen on television. Television made the sewer look like an underground grotto that was a nice place to visit. But she was surprised by what she did find.

The tunnel was dry, clearly disused. Rusted rails lined the floor and she realized it was an old subway tunnel. She looked right and left and found Arthur and two other men spreading out across the tunnel, Arthur in the center, their backs to her.

One rat scrabbled softly past the men, stopping to sit on its haunches and regard her, then going back to all fours and running
past her into the darkness. She turned and took a step, wondering if it wanted her to follow.

“So is it everything you dreamed of and more?” Arthur said from behind her.

Zoë bit her lip hard against yelling in surprise, which would just reward him. She turned slowly and smiled. “Well, it’s dark and drier than expected. Throw in an uncomfortable backseat and you have my first sexual experience.”

Arthur choked back laughter. “Seriously, Zoë, you shouldn’t be here. I can’t be responsible for you.”

“No one asked you to be. I can handle myself,” she said.

Arthur screwed up his face and put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in. “No. You don’t understand. I am responsible for you. Phil put the geas on me. I can’t have you injured; if so, the geas might activate.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’ ” He waved his hand, keeping his headlamp to the right so he didn’t blind her. “I owe Phil my life. This is really a minor way to pay him back. Or it would be if Public Works hadn’t fallen apart the minute you stepped inside.” His eyes flicked to her, and she could tell he didn’t trust her anymore. “So, seriously, for my sake will you go back up the stairs?”

One of the men called back to Arthur. “Hey boss, I think we got a leak down the bend.”

“Hang on, Mel,” he said over his shoulder, then focused his brown eyes on Zoë again. “Go,” he repeated, and moved past her to his man. He stopped and Zoë couldn’t resist stopping on the steps to watch them. From what she could hear, there actually was a leak. The men’s lights played over several large water pipes stretching over their heads, one of them dripping water.

“Someone let a pet loose in the sewers again,” Mel said, sounding relieved. “It’s just a snake.”

Zoë caught sight of it. “Snake” was an understatement. The beast was at least forty feet long and twined tightly around the pipe. It constricted, moved, and constricted again. Every time it squeezed, more water came out of the pipe as the stress fracture it had caused grew a little bit.

“You idiot, that’s a water demon,” Arthur said. “Don’t touch it; part of it is wrapped in the power lines and it’s constricting to split the pipe under it.”

“Water and electricity. This could get ugly,” said the second man.

“Only if it damages the wires. But you shouldn’t touch it, to be safe,” Arthur said. He turned around, and Zoë ran up the stairs before he could see her.

Back in the basement, she could hear the chaos above her, but the hallway was clear. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Phil.

“Yes, Zoë?”

“I’m at Public Works. They’re under attack by some big water demon, a snake thing, yellow. It’s wrapped in the power lines and is breaking the water line.”

“And?”

She sighed in frustration. “What is it?”

“Ah. I may have some idea. Tell me, which way is the demon heading?”

“What? How should I know?”

“Which way was its head pointing?” Phil asked patiently.

“Oh,” she said, thinking. “North.”

“And it’s yellow and a water demon?”

“That’s what they said.”

He paused. “Without seeing it, I’d say that it’s the demon Apep. Which isn’t good.”

A panicked shout came from under Zoë’s feet, and she grimaced.
“Yeah, I’m hearing that. It’s attacking them. How do I stop it?”

“No, Zoë, it’s not bad because it’s dangerous. It’s bad because it’s a demon attracted to chaos. It’s heading north to LaGuardia. It’s going to be there when the zoëtist gets here.”

“You know all of this?”

“Educated guess. There aren’t a lot of yellow snake water demons. And we do have some chaos going on in the city. Just leave it alone, it just wants to watch the chaos.”

From the sound below her, that wasn’t an option anymore. “Phil, it’s attacking the guys from Public Works. Or they’re attacking it. How can I help?”

“They attacked first, I’m sure.”

“Phil!”

He paused for a long time. She made an exasperated sound. “Fine,” he said. “If you stab him with steel and leave it in him, it’ll incapacitate him. But I can’t promise what will happen when you take the knife out.”

“Gotcha,” she said, and hung up.

She took a deep breath, then headed for the door again.

The sewers of New York are famous for housing everything from alligators to homeless. They also house the runoff water, and the dirt, grime, and sewage of the city. And New York is a big, dirty city.

This makes the sewers prime tourist areas for demons of all kinds, especially those who thrive on either human waste or just plain filth. Under Tenth Avenue you can find Mama Bloodstone’s Hostel, a series of carved-out rooms run by a blood demon. But don’t let her fool you, she’s developed a taste for the sewers and not only is an excellent hostess, but also provides excellent suggestions for the best places for demons to visit in the city.

Corrupted river sprites have different sewer areas that they consider their territory, and will require a toll to move through them. Public Works tries to cut down on such bullying, but it’s tough to maintain the peace underground.

Speaking of Public Works, they are frequent visitors underground, so if you encounter one, stay calm, stay peaceful, and don’t be the one who attacks first.

H
er first thought as she was running clumsily down the spiral stairs was that maybe she ought to tell Fanny. Then a roar shook the walls around her and Zoë dropped to her knees in a puddle at the bottom of the stairs, hands clasped to her head in agony. The roar seemed to go on and on, and ceramic tiles fell around her, a couple striking her shoulders. At that point she figured Fanny must already know.

The lights from the men’s hard hats bobbed frantically as they fought in the increasingly wet corridor of the tunnel.

When the noise stopped, she got to her feet, dripping dirty water, and ran on toward the noise, albeit somewhat shakily. Her ears rang with punk concert–like abuse. The sound of her splashing feet seemed muffled and far away, as did the cries of Arthur and the other men.

When she reached where they had first seen the demon, it reminded her of the one time she’d taken LSD and gone out to a club. The demon had split the water line it had coiled around, causing a spray of water between her and the battle. The lights from the men’s helmets danced around, causing a strobe effect, not staying still on anything long enough for Zoë to figure out what was going on. The only thing she could ascertain from the panicked shouts was that things were going very badly.

Briefly thankful that her nose confirmed that the water main
that had split was a freshwater main instead of a sewer, Zoë ran through the torrent and focused on the scene in front of her.