Pyrobrachininae (Asylum Chapter 13)

[Content Warning: strong language]

Dr Conrad Jameson raised the metal tube to his lips and aimed at the target. He counted to five to steady his nerves. His mentor had once said that this part of the job was akin to that of a bomb disposal expert and, as his heart drummed in his chest, he felt the similarity. One wrong move and the history of an entire civilisation could be lost.

A short burst of breath succeeded in blowing away grit without damaging the stone. He placed the straw to one side, picked up his soft-haired brush and dusted away more grime. There were definitely some carvings here, a relief in the stone which represented the written word of the ancient peoples of Peru.

Jameson would have one of the undergrads photograph the characters and upload the images. After running the information against the database, he could then theorise the importance of the buried chamber.

He moved his brush in a light feathery motion, releasing more of the forgotten language from the centuries of dirt. The earth fell away and revealed a crack in the stone. It was a long fissure, maybe ten centimetres in length and two at its widest point. Beyond was the inky blackness that was only found underground; areas that had seen neither sunlight, moonlight nor even meagre starshine for many years.

Something protruded from the hole, giving him a start. Two long, thin strands poked out and quivered. It was only when the head appeared that Jameson realised they were the antennae of an insect. He was used to bugs at dig sites but they still creeped him out.

‘Papa,’ he called, unable to keep the shrill tone from his cry.

The university entomologist, Dr Eirini Papadimitriou, wandered over.

‘What have you got, Conrad?’ she asked.

‘Creepy crawlies. They’re all yours.’ Jameson stood and let Eirini take his place.

She sat on her haunches and leaned closer to the fissure. ‘Hello, little fella,’ she cooed, reaching out her palm. ‘What’s your name then?’

The antennae brushed her hand, then the creature crawled forward to investigate further. It’s head and legs were burned crimson in colour, the antennae, eyes and carapace as black as death. It was over two centimetres in length. Jameson shuddered.

‘It’s a beetle,’ Eirini said with a warmth that Jameson could not comprehend. ‘Could be a brachininae?’

Jameson asked, ‘What’s a brachi- What you said?’

‘A Bombardier beetle. But this guy is bigger and… see these markings?’

Despite himself, Jameson leaned forward to look at the bug’s shell. Curves and whorls decorated the insect’s back, a pattern so subtle it was almost invisible.

‘I’ve not seen these on brachininae before,’ Eirini went on. ‘I’ll have to consult some other professors, but we may have discov- What was that?’ Her head spun to the crack in the stone.

From his position, Jameson could only see the outer edge of the fissure. His moved himself behind Eirini to get a better angle. In the pitch dark of the underground area, there was not enough light for Eirini to have seen anything. He was about to say as much when something caught his eye.

‘You saw it that time?’ Eirini asked.

‘It can’t be. This building has been buried for centuries. There’s no feasible way anything can-’ He stopped when it occurred again.

From deep within the darkness, in an area untouched by humankind for countless generations, came a flash of orange light.

*

Deakes was at the airport again, feeling like a glorified cabbie. At least this private airfield had no public area in which unseen observers could hide.

He checked his phone again, looking at a photo of his contact, Dr Eirini Papadimitriou.  She had shoulder-length brunette hair and the dusky complexion of a southern European. He spotted her as soon as she entered the lobby, a sports bag over one shoulder. In her opposite hand she carried an oversized aluminium briefcase.

She smiled as she approached. ‘Jordan Deakes?’ Despite her Mediterranean appearance, her accent was all Cockney.

‘Doctor Papadimitriou. I hope you had a pleasant journey.’

Her smile widened. ‘You pronounced it right. But you can call me Papa. Most people do.’

They left the airport and were soon on their way to the Asylum. Despite having been on a plane for several hours, Eirini was alert and chatty. She asked Deakes about himself, his place in ARC and how he was getting on in his new calling.

For her part, Deakes learned that her wife had introduced her to The Horatio Foundation, the company which funded the various Asylums around the world. Her vast experience in the field of entomology made her the Foundation’s foremost bug expert and she had visited sixteen different Asylums. She thought it odd that she was coming to England and not a nearer Asylum in South America, but the Foundation chartered the plane so she went where there requested her.

As Deakes headed into the barren Yorkshire Moors, Eirini’s demeanour soured.

‘It is bleak country,’ Deakes observed.

‘It’s worse than that,’ Eirini said. ‘I’m convinced there’s a canker here. Maybe that’s why Harris set up here.’

‘I’m not sure I follow.’

Eirini turned in her seat to look at him. ‘I have a strong feeling that there is something dark in the land. It draws bad things here.’

‘You think Harris is bad?’ Deakes thought it a ridiculous idea. Thomas Harris had created a haven for non-human creatures.

‘I think all people have the potential for badness.’

‘And yet you get into a car with a complete stranger.’

‘Just because you have the potential for badness,’ Eirini said with a smirk, ‘doesn’t mean you will act on it. But there is something wrong with the country here.’

Deakes shot her a puzzled look and Eirini elaborated. ‘Let me mention some names associated with Yorkshire, you’ll see my point.’ She paused, then listed, ‘Peter Surcliffe, Myra Hindley, Count Dracula.’

Deakes pulled off the country road and headed over the scrubland.

‘Are you telling me Dracula was real?’ he asked. With all that he had witnessed this past year, Deakes was only surprised that a true vampire had attained such renown.

‘Not the fictional character which Hollywood has romanticised. But I have no doubt that Stoker based his story on an existing blutsauger.’

‘What’s a blutsauger? I thought Dracula was a vampire?’

‘A blutsauger is a genus of vampire, in the same way that a black widow is a genus of spider.’ She cast a frown at him. ‘Not all vampires survive on blood.’

They crested a hill. The hidden valley of the Asylum for Relocated Cryptids lay out before them. Deakes slowed the car as he approached a huge stone head at the side of the road.

Carved lips parted and a deep voice intoned, ‘Afternoon, Jordan.’

‘Hi, Hunter.’

Eirini leaned over and called to the troll. ‘Hey, Hunter. Keeping busy?’

The large mouth curved into a smile and Deakes could have sworn there was a twinkle in the stone eyes. ‘It’s hard work doing nothing, Papa.’

‘You doing nothing means the Asylum is safe. I know you prefer it that way.’

There was a dizzying shift in perspective, the feeling that the world was tilting, as Hunter gave a small nod.

As Deakes drove away, he asked, ‘How is Hunter’s inactivity keeping the Asylum safe? I thought he was a lookout, a sort of early warning system.’

‘That’s part of his role, but there’s more to him that that.’ She shot Deakes a puzzled look. ‘Wait. Do you think he’s just a head?’

*

Fletch met them outside the main building and took Eirini’s bags.

‘Be careful with them,’ she said.

He led them up to a room on the first floor. Empty aquariums rested on the benches that lined the walls. The last time Deakes had been here, he and Andrea had brought in a cubus which had caused some marital troubles in a few couples. It had also made Deakes act inappropriately, a memory which still shamed him to this day.

Looking around at the glass cases, he wondered where the cubus was now.

Harris and Dr Zhu joined them and exchanged hellos with Eirini. Zhu, in his usual manner, spoke to her solely in Mandarin and she responded in kind. Deakes took a moment to open the language translator on his phone, ready should Zhu address him. He placed an earbud in one ear.

‘Do you have them?’ Harris’s voice was electric.

Eirini took the large briefcase from Fletch and placed it on a nearby bench. She unfastened it, lifted the top and carefully pulled out a clear plastic container. The inside was divided into several compartments, each containing an insect. She retrieved an identical container and placed it beside the first.

‘Ten in each,’ she said. ‘I’m fairly certain they’re a new species.’

Zhu said something which translated in Deakes’s ear as: ‘We can start studying them straight away.’

‘Not yet,’ Eirini said in English. ‘I’ve just got in from Peru. Let me freshen up and grab a bite to eat, then we can start.’

‘Of course,’ Harris said, though his eyes displayed his disappointment.

*

While Eirini went to the staff quarters on the top floor, Deakes looked for Andrea. He checked the breakroom and the interview room, the two places in the complex he usually frequented. Not finding her, he ventured further into the building. He passed an office occupied by four people – or cryptids who could easily pass as human – a conference room bedecked with huge TV screens, and a storeroom. Doors marked Toilet and Authorised Personnel Only stood just beyond a large, fully fitted kitchen.

Dr Zhu was standing by the stove, emptying the contents of a packet into a wok. The pan sizzled, releasing the spicy aroma into the air and eliciting a growl from Deakes’s stomach.

When he saw Deakes, Zhu grinned sheepishly. ‘Papa loves my kung pao chicken,’ the earbud translated. ‘I haven’t the heart to tell her it’s Uncle Ben’s.’

Deakes opened his mouth to answer, but was pitched to the side when the floor bucked. Zhu stumbled, dropping the wok and spilling the meal across the dancing floor. The walls shook and the windows sang a keening pitch. Something crashed on the floor above them. One of the office workers screamed.

Then the movement stopped and the world returned to normal.

‘What the hell was that?’ Deakes said. The phenomenon must have affected his phone because the app translated Zhu’s next words as: ‘Pock seventeen.’

The Chinese man shot for the door with a startled word. Deakes’s phone provide the translation, ‘The samples.’

Deakes was on his heels in an instant. He cast a glance into the office as he ran past to make sure no-one was hurt, then bounded up the stairs and into the room where Eirini’s insects had been left. One of the plastic containers had toppled from the bench. The clear casing was marred with dark patches.

Eirini arrived a second later, water dripping from her hair. She raced to the fallen container and inspected it.

‘Shit!’

One corner had cracked, leaving a jagged opening that spanned two of the compartments. Compartments which were now empty.

Harris and Fletch arrived at the doorway.

Zhu said something – ‘Pock seventeen,’ Deakes’s earbud repeated – and Harris gave a subtle shake of his head.

‘There are two missing,’ Eirini said, oblivious to the subtle exchange. ‘We must find them. Quickly.’

‘Are they a danger to the ecosystem?’ Fletch asked.

‘Worse than that.’ She rested the damaged container on the bench for all to see. The remaining beetles were restless. One seemed more agitated than the others. ‘They’re a danger to life.’

The angry insect reared up, its mandibles opened and a bright flame belched from its mouth.

*

‘I can’t believe she brought fire breathing beetles here. What the hell was she thinking?’

Fletch did nothing to hide his disdain of Eirini’s actions. Deakes had thought that Fletch had taken umbrage with him personally, probably from their time together at Meadthorpe Farm, but he was beginning to think that Fletch may hate everybody equally. Somehow, that made him more tolerable to be around.

With Eirini, Harris, Zhu and a few other members of Asylum staff searching the main building for the escaped beetles, Deakes and Fletch had been tasked with checking the cryptid’s village. The chance of the critters getting out was minimal, Eirini had said. Deakes wondered whether they were higher or lower than the odds of a freak earthquake shaking the building.

In the excitement that followed Eirini’s announcement, they had not discussed the tremor. Deakes asked Fletch about it as they drove to the hamlet.

‘We’ve been getting a few over the past few weeks. Nothing as big as this one though.’

‘Does anyone have a theory to the cause? We’re not on a faultline here.’

Fletch gave him the side eye. ‘Didn’t you learn about tectonic plates at school? Faultline or not, the earth’s crust is constantly moving. Earthquakes happen every day.’ He muttered something under his breath which Deakes chose to ignore.

The first row of cottages seemed undisturbed by the earthquake. There were also no signs of tiny fires being ignited. Three children of different species chased one another in the afternoon sun. One seemed human enough, another had olive green skin and the third kept gliding for yards at time on its leathery wings.

When he was out of the car, Deakes held up his phone and accessed the sound file that Eirini had shared with them. A series of taps and knocks played. He glanced around, checking the ground in all directions. Nothing.

‘Is this really supposed to work?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Fletch said. ‘Papa is the bug expert. If she says it’s a beetle mating call, I’m not going to argue with her.’

They walked on, turning the corner to the lane that held the town hall and education centre. A woman stood at the entrance to the hall. On seeing Deakes and Fletch, relief washed the concern from her face. She rushed toward them.

Deakes’s stomach rolled as she neared. Pippa was one of the vampires he had helped Andrea recruit from the siren Dust. He would much rather face a hundred firebugs than a single vampire. Eirini’s words came back to him, her idea that dark forces were drawn to Yorkshire.

‘Thank God you’re here Darwin,’ she said, eyes on Fletch. ‘We need your help.’

Fletch’s voice was taut. ‘Have you seen a beetle? About this big?’

‘This way,’ she answered and turned to lead them into the building.

‘How does she know what we’re looking for?’ Deakes asked, but Fletch had already followed Pippa inside. Deakes took a deep breath before joining them.

A small lobby opened onto the high-ceilinged main hall. On one side of the opening, a door to a staircase was being held open by a tall humanoid figure. The baggy cargo pants and Mistholme Museum t-shirt it wore did nothing to disguise the fact that it was a walking ball of fur. Warm brown eyes glistened over a shiny black nose, but the cuteness was incongruous to the yellowed fangs sprouting from its mouth.

‘Darwin, come with me. Jordan, you’re with Trake.’

The yeti nodded a greeting at Deakes, then disappeared into the stairwell. Relieved that he would not be left alone with Pippa, Deakes climbed the stairs and entered a short passage which held three doors. Trake opened the first, ushered Deakes inside and remained in the corridor.

In the tiny office-cum-storeroom, a second vampire stood up and stepped forward. Deakes’s stomach lurched.

‘We don’t have a lot of time.’ Sloane’s voice was a conspiratorial whisper.

Deakes’s throat was dry, but he managed to say, ‘This feels like a set-up.’

‘When I saw you driving up, I thought it was a golden opportunity. But I had to get you on your own.’

The hair on Deakes’s nape stood on end. With Trake blocking the only exit, Deakes scanned the room for another means of escape. There was a window he would fit through, but the drop to the ground could prove disastrous.

‘I don’t trust Darwin,’ Sloane said. If she noticed Deakes’s panic, she didn’t acknowledge it.

Deakes remembered something else Eirini had said. Not all vampires survive on blood. Maybe Sloane and Pippa were a different kind of vampire. Was his fear of them was unfounded?

When he thought about the times he had been around them – backstage at Platform Nine, earlier this year when they had been talking to a hindi-ardilya – he realised that they had never been hostile toward him or another other living being. They came across as friendly and inquisitive, traits he had assumed were used to win over their prey. Yet the predatory aspect of their personalities had only ever been projected by him. Even Fletch had not shown any trepidation round them, and he disliked everyone.

He reassessed their behaviour, overlooking the fact that they were vampires, and came to the conclusion that they acted more like undercover investigators.

‘You’re coming to ARC wasn’t happenstance, was it?’

A glint in Sloane’s eyes accompanied her smile. ‘Dust wanted someone on the inside.’

‘To look into Eddie’s death?’

The siren must really have loved Eddie. Not only had she enlisted Andrea’s and his help, she had also embroiled two vampires in a covert operation.

He stepped closer. ‘What have you found out?’

‘Nothing to do with Eddie. But there’s a bigger problem. There are a lot of dissatisfied residents.’

‘But they’ve chosen to be here. This place offers them protection from the larger world.’

‘That’s what we’re told.’ She cocked her head to one side as though listening to something Deakes could not detect. ‘And many are grateful for the respite found here, but some believe it is more a prison than a refuge.’

The statement stunned Deakes. He first learned about the Asylum when he had been hired to locate a missing woman. Although he wasn’t aware of it at the time, she carried a therianthrope gene which had been passed down from her mother. The same mother who had resided at the Asylum for a few years and had implored Andrea to bring her daughter here.

‘Why would Marianne Edison have requested Salina’s presence if this place is nothing but a glorified prison camp?’ he asked. Before she could answer, he added, ‘And you know Harris is working on outreach programs for all classes of cryptid.’

Sloane nodded but her expression remained stern. ‘Yes, a few individuals have integrated with human society.’

‘So that’s a good thing.’

‘Not always, no. Some have left here and not returned. Jordan, we have never heard back from them again.’

‘What are you saying?’ Deakes said. ‘That somebody out there is kidnapping cryptids?’

Her eyes locked on his. ‘I think it’s less of an external problem and more of an internal one.’

A crash from downstairs startled him. He heard Fletch scream and Pippa swear.

‘You have to go,’ Sloane urged, pushing him into the corridor. Before releasing his arm, she said, ‘Don’t trust anyone.’

Trake closed the door. Deakes glared at him, at all seven feet of him, and knew he could not force his way back in. Another cry from Fletch and a muffled whoomph came from below. Deciding which battle he had the better chance of effecting, Deakes ran down the steps and burst into the main hall.

Fletch lay near one wall. Beside him, his mobile phone was in flames. He scurried away from the fire and Pippa darted in the other direction.

‘What the hell was that?’ she called, eyes on the ground.

‘That’s one of the fire beetles we’re chasing,’ Fletch answered. ‘I thought that’s why you brought us in here.’

In Pippa’s silence, Deakes knew the truth. She had no idea that the insects had escaped, she’d just used a vague plea to allow Sloane a solitary tête-à-tête with Deakes.

‘It’s there.’ Pippa pointed at the inch-long beetle scuttling along the floor.

Deake grabbed his phone and played the mating call.

The beetle stopped. Its carapace opened. Crimson wings emerged and lifted it into the air. It shot for Deakes in a flash of red and high-pitched buzzing.

Deakes jumped back, his hand automatically reaching out to strike it.

Mandibles opened, emitting a sound like stone scraping stone. A four-inch plume of fire erupted around Deakes’s hand.

He pulled his arm back and shook his hand. Tears flooded his eyes as pain flared up his fingers and into his wrist. It felt as though his entire hand was melting.

When his vision returned, he was glad to see that the flames had not taken hold. The hairs on hand were singed and his skin was the pink of fresh salmon, but there would be no permanent damage. The injury was no worse than a scald.

The beetle buzzed closer, aiming for Deakes’s phone. Despite the temporary effects of the creature’s attack, he did not want to suffer that pain again. He dropped the phone and kicked it across the floor. The insect followed, landing on the device when it came to a rest. It crawled over the screen, turning this way and that as it looked for the source of the tap-knocks.

‘How do we catch the blasted thing?’ Fletch asked.

Deakes frowned. In the haste to locate the escaped bugs, nobody had thought to ask that of Eirini. Calling her would be a good idea, but his phone was currently commandeered by a horny beetle and Fletch’s was a miniature bonfire.

Pippa crept toward the beetle. She got down on her knees and leaned forward.

‘Careful,’ Deakes warned.

She reached out, extending one delicate finger to the beetle. She whispered something, her words so soft Deakes did not hear them.

The beetle ignored her, darting back and forth over Deakes’s phone.

Pippa’s fingertip rested on the insect’s back. She closed her eyes. The beetle stopped moving. The corners of Pippa’s mouth raised and she let out a contented sigh.

Opening her eyes, she scooped the beetle into an open palm and stood up.

‘We can take it back now,’ she said. ‘Its fear has gone.’

*

Deakes called Harris to let him know they had found one of Eirini’s missing beetles. The second had been located in the main building and was contained without causing any injury. Fletch drove them back; Pippa joined them, the beetle carried safely in her cupped hands.

After applying ointment and a dressing to his injured hand, Deakes wanted to resume looking for Andrea but delayed shock took its toll and drained his energy. Instead, he fell onto a couch in the breakroom and messaged her: ‘Where are you?’

Her reply came within five minutes.

‘On a covert mission. Do not contact me. May jeopardise my safety.’

Once he had read the message, it was deleted from Andrea’s side.

Deakes wondered what mission she was on that his contact may endanger her. If her safety was at risk, he should be with her. They weren’t officially working partners but she was the one who had recruited him into ARC and he had a loyalty to her for that. He thought she had brought him onboard because she trusted him. Why would she now keep him at arm’s length?

His heart picked up a beat when her remembered something that Sloane had said: ‘Some have left here and not returned. Jordan, we have never heard back from them again.’