The File Said He Was Harmless

Rowan arrived the next morning with breakfast and the appearance of somebody who had misplaced an entire night.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Three hexlings escaped from the first floor."

I stopped chewing.

"The little ones with the sunflower seeds?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"We don't know. They battered the gate together around midnight. When we caught them, they kept asking whether you were really gone."

I felt a small, warm satisfaction.

"They missed me."

Rowan looked at my breakfast.

"One of them said he wanted to get out before the lower wards opened."

I lowered the chicken leg.

"Which one?"

"The smallest. He wouldn't explain. The others pulled him away."

I pictured three frightened faces pressed against the first-floor bars.

"Keep them away from the restricted stairs," I said.

"We will."

I resumed eating, more slowly.

He stayed long enough to drink tea, then hurried back to work.

The alarm rang for an hour that afternoon.

The next day, nobody brought lunch. I went to the university district, where a woman sold hot pepper soup from a narrow shop beneath a laundromat.

She didn't ask why a rabbit wanted beef.

Briarwick was that sort of city.

When I returned, Seth was sprawled on the sofa.

One sleeve was scorched away. His blond hair had been singed into an uneven fringe.

"Did you lose an argument with a toaster?"

"Thunderbird. Fifth floor."

I set my takeaway container down.

"Little Ash? He barely opens his eyes."

"He opened them today. We chased him through eight streets. Two suppression trucks, three squads. He landed on the tram cables."

"Did he attack you?"

Seth stared at me.

"He didn't need to aim at me. When he spread his wings, the whole street lit up."

"Did you ask him to return?"

"Six times."

"What did he say?"

"That he wanted to see whether the world still had weather. Then he electrocuted a parking meter."

I looked at Seth's burnt sleeve.

Ash had spent decades pretending the exercise yard was too tiring. Apparently he'd saved his energy for public transport.

"I'll speak to him," I said.

"I'd appreciate that."

I pushed the soup closer.

"Have some."

He took the spoon with his uninjured hand.

"Lucien says this is a transition issue."

"It certainly seems to be."

"Rowan suggested bringing you back. He didn't even get to finish the sentence."

Seth mimicked the deputy director's clipped voice.

"The Bureau is not dependent on an ornamental rabbit."

"Ornamental sounds nice."

"It wasn't a compliment."

His phone rang before I could ask whether the tram service had resumed.

He answered, listened, and sat upright.

"Another one?"

I could hear Rowan through the speaker.

"The entire seventh floor. Every cell."

Seth put down the spoon.

At the door, he paused and looked at me.

"Pip, could you—"

I waited.

He rubbed his face.

"Forget it. This isn't your job anymore."

Then he ran downstairs.

I stayed beside the soup until it went cold.

Across the street, the Bureau's windows remained lit all night.

By dawn, Seth had returned twice for clean equipment and once for a bandage he hadn't wanted me to see.

The third time, I gave him a towel.

"Tell Ash I don't approve of burning your hair."

"He's back in his cell."

"Tell him anyway."

Seth managed a tired smile.

Later, Rowan told me about the emergency meeting.

Lucien had demanded to know why intact wards and locks were failing. The engineers couldn't explain it. Nothing was broken until the residents decided to break it.

"I told him," Rowan said, "that the locks weren't the only thing that had been there for eight hundred years."

"What did he say?"

"That I was confusing coincidence with causation."

I nodded.

"He likes long words."

"He likes them more than answers."

The following morning, Lucien ordered extra staff below ground.

I knew because three officers came past Seth's building carrying reinforced shields. One limped before he'd even started his shift.

I took a different route to the soup shop.

The owner had learned my order. She put extra noodles in my bowl.

"Rough day?"

"I'm retired."

"Lucky you."

For a moment, I agreed.

Then Seth called.

"Pip. Seventeen."

His breathing was ragged.

I set down my spoon.

"Who?"

"File seventeen-oh-six. Sheep body. Eyes under the forelegs. I can't remember the name."

I remembered.

The Gullet.

He had arrived four centuries earlier with blood on his wool and a collection of children's shoes caught between his teeth.

I'd stood outside his cell until he'd lowered his head and stopped talking.

"Where is he?"

"Tracking team is looking. Lucien's coming out personally."

I climbed down from the chair.

The soup-shop owner reached for the bowl.

"Finished?"

"Keep it warm."

I was already at the door when Seth's voice broke through again.

"We found him."

"Where?"

A pause.

"Sunmeadow Kindergarten."

I ran.

People stepped aside. A cyclist shouted something unhelpful. I crossed the park, followed the smell of fear, and reached the street outside the school.

The Bureau had sealed both ends.

An officer recognized me and lifted the tape.

Beyond it, the playground wall had collapsed. Teachers were herding children through a side entrance, trying not to look toward the climbing frame.

The Gullet stood beneath it.

His wool was yellow-gray. His neck bent at an angle sheep necks generally shouldn't. Under his front legs, two red eyes followed every moving child.

One little girl had fallen near the slide.

I saw the abandoned shoe first.

Then the claw closing around the back of her coat.

Seth stood beside the response truck with a suppression cannon aimed at the creature.

"We can't get a clear shot," he said. "He's using her as cover."

Lucien stepped in front of me.

"What are you doing here?"

"Let me through."

"This is an active operation."

"He eats children."

Lucien held up a tablet.

"His record shows no predatory incident in four hundred years. Don't spread panic."

I looked at him.

"He hasn't left his cell in four hundred years."

Behind him, the girl screamed for her mother.

The Gullet lifted her higher.

"Put her down," I called.

His eyes turned toward me.

For an instant, his grip loosened.

Then Lucien moved between us.

"Civilians are to withdraw. That includes former employees."

I stepped around his shoe.

He caught my ear.

It didn't hurt. That was the least important thing about it.

"You are retired," he said. "Remember your place."

Beyond his shoulder, the Gullet's jaw opened.

The girl was crying so hard she couldn't draw a proper breath.

I looked up at Lucien's hand.

"Take that off me."

"Or what?"

For the first time since we'd met, I stopped trying to make his day easier.