Shadows of Valderia: An Urban Fantasy Detective Noir

8

The smell of the Ratholes made Nairo want to weep.

The state of deprivation almost did.

Mountains of rotting trash and the detritus of life awaited them as they hopped out of the cab. The RatHoles: a short-sighted solution to a long-term problem. In a single decade, the Goblin Unification Wars, the Far East Slave Rebellion and the Gnommish Expansion all took place, leading to record levels of immigration into the Free Cities of the Great Forest, exposing just how poor the existing infrastructure was in these former hamlets. Some cities closed their borders, others allowed temporary tenements to be thrown up, that morphed into cities on their fringes which still exist today. Verdalia City strove to be more well organised and used the immigrants as cheap labour to throw up the high-rise monstrosities before her. Lack of resources, funds, preparation, oversight, and care, led to a nightmare of wonky rectangular buildings that just kept going with no uniformity or common sense. A new wave of Goblin refugees just turned up? No problem, just add another floor to that series of flats. Those two high rises that were built in under two weeks are structurally unsound? No worries just whack another building between them to hold them straight. You want round windows? No problem. Gnomes want square windows? Go ahead. John forgot to put doors on that building? Shouldn’t be a problem.

Hundreds of cultures and styles of buildings over the decades had created a kaleidoscope of shabby leaning towers constantly threatening to collapse. In fact, the longer she stared at the jagged skyline of the RatHoles the more paranoid she became that she could see the buildings shifting and wobbling. Generation after generation of occupancy by the poorest and most desperate had turned the RatHoles into a den of degeneracy, violence and drugs. Now, the city practised a policy of containment: as long as the filth didn't spill out to the rest of the city it was tolerated. That arrangement also extended to coppers, as long as the crime stayed in: the police stayed out.

“Come on Sarge! We ain't here for sightseeing!” Ridley called from down the lane.

Nairo shook her head and focused on dodging the piles of filth and rats the size of small cats.

“Do you even know where we're going?” Nairo asked.

She tried in vain to keep track of where they were, but the layout of the streets made no sense. None of the roads were straight, some narrowed suddenly into another filthy alley and others filled out into an open eight way junction. There were no road markers anywhere and the consistent layer of grime gave all the buildings a similar abandoned facade.

“I’ll know when I'm there,” Ridley answered dismissively.

Nairo tutted and rolled her eyes. She was growing sick of the PI’s reticent attitude.

They trudged on in moody silence and Nairo realised she hadn't seen a single person. Every now and again she heard the scuff and scurry of tiny feet around her and she constantly felt that animalistic pricking at the nape of her neck telling her they were being watched, but so far she has not seen any sign of the RatHoles inhabitants. The silence crept on her, becoming eerie and oppressive.

“Where is everyone?” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

“They’re there... watching,” he answered without looking up at her. “They can smell a pig a mile downwind.”

“Don't call me that.”

“What?”

“A pig!”

“Don't take nothing by it Sarge, it's just what you are.”

“No, I am an officer of the law and a human being!” Despite knowing better, Nairo could not help but be irritated by him.

“Alright, don't get upset.”

“I'm not upset!”

“You're getting flushed,” he needled.

Nairo eyed him coldly and then lifted her chin deciding they had spoken enough for today. At first she had tried to keep a terse distance between them but the primordial anxiety building in her chest made her unconsciously shrink closer to him. As they worked their way deeper into the RatHoles she felt more hungry eyes following them with feral desperation.

“Don’t worry Sarge, that badge is the only thing stopping them from knifing us and plundering our corpses.”

“I’m not wearing my badge.”

“You’re always wearing the badge.”

“How comforting,” Nairo hissed, her fists clenched with tension.

Unconsciously, their pace had steadily sped up. Shoulder to shoulder, they were almost at a half jog when they came upon another wide open junction. Sunshine! Daylight had never felt so wonderful, it dispelled the gloom of the RatHoles and the fear that had clung to their shoulders like a suffocating serpent. Here, there was finally life. There was a little shabby hut selling necessities, a hot food vendor hawking his questionable wares, and there were even grubby children laughing and playing.

“Bingo!”

Ridley made a beeline for the hot food vendor. They exchanged words and Ridley was pointed across the road. He nodded to Nairo and she followed cautiously behind him. They left the sunlight and dipped back into the cold, damp alleyways. After a minute of walking Ridley looked up a rusted fire escape.

“Sarita?” Ridley shouted up the steps. “Sarita!”

“What?” a throaty, half asleep, voice shouted back.

“It’s me!”

“Who?”

“Ridley!”

“Ridley!” the voice cackled. “I heard you was dead!”

“Yeah, that seems to be going around.”

A pale, round face popped over the side of the fire escape.

“Why don’t you come down? There’s a couple coins in it for you.”

The woman’s eyes lit up and then she disappeared. Nairo heard the unsteady clunk of heels staggering their way down the rusted fire escape. The woman tumbled the last few steps and barely caught herself from falling face first in the alleyway. She could not have been much older than Nairo, and at some point quite a beauty, but the cruelty of life had stripped the youth and beauty from her. Her skin was pale and waxy, plastered over her protruding bones like a poorly dressed wire mannequin. Her face was caked in makeup that looked days old, and her greasy hair was tied up in a haphazard bun at the top of her head. She had dark, smokey eyes that were red rimmed and hollow. She wore a black dress that would have been tight in all the right places if she had any meat left on her. As it was, the dress sagged and crumpled, barely staying on her bony shoulders. It was her arms and legs that made Nairo feel sick. Her thighs were barely thicker than a man’s forearm and they were covered in the jagged pus-filled cuts of a burn addict. Her arms were similarly covered in wounds so fresh they still trickled blood. Now Nairo looked at her eyes again and realised she was deep in her addiction.

“Reeeeeeedleyyyy!” Sarita cackled again, almost losing her footing, catching herself on the wall. “You got some work for me sweetheart? Is it both of you? Coz if it is that’s gonna be extra.”

“I’m not here for that,” Ridley said.

“Is she?”

“No.”

“Good, she looks like she’s into the rough stuff,” Sarita whispered loud enough for the whole alleyway to hear.

“She does?”

“I do?”

“Yeah, the prim and proper ones are always the filthiest.”

“Really?” Ridley said, suddenly fascinated.

“Ridley,” Nairo snapped.

“Oh right. Neither of us are here for that.”

“What do you want then spook?” The smile dropped from her cracked lips and her bloodshot eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Ridley pulled out two smokes and passed one to her, holding up his lighter for her. He then lit his own smoke and shrugged casually.

.

“Nothing much, Sarita. We were just taking a stroll through looking for an old buddy of mine,” Ridley said.

“What mates have you got round here?” Again her mood lurched wildly as she began to cackle and wheeze.

“Oh you know him, about six and a half foot tall, half an ear, scabby guy with six inch tusks. Sound familiar?”

Sarita stopped fidgeting now and stared at Ridley like he had grown a third eye.

“Don't know anyone like that.”

Nairo noted the fear cutting through the delirium in her eyes.

“Yeah you do,” Ridley weedled, a predatory smile across his face: all teeth and bad intentions. “In fact I'm pretty sure you was getting high with him a couple of hours ago.”

“No I wasn't.”

Now she was fighting to avoid Ridley’s piercing eyes.

“So how did you get those?” Ridley asked, pointing to her still bleeding wounds. “Fell over?”

“I don't know nothing,”

Her eyes darted wildly, she was looking for an escape.

“Come on Sarita, you're high as pigeon balls,” Ridley’s tone held no reproach. He spoke to her like a disappointed parent would to a small child with a face full of chocolate.

“You were with Benny last night weren't you, Sarita?” Nairo asked softly, seeing the defeated sag in her shoulders and the hysteria of her eyes.

Sarita bowed her head, greasy clumps of black hair fell across her face. Her shoulders began to shake as if she was sobbing.

“Hey it's okay, you're not in any trouble,” Nairo said gently, reaching out a hand to pat her quivering shoulder.

Her bony shoulders bobbed faster, a nasty sound like bones clicking emanated from deep within her. Nairo snatched her hand back instinctively.

“HOO Hooo!” she cawed as she threw her head back and cackled uproariously. “Yeah I was with that old toad!” The wild crazy look had reappeared in her wide deranged eyes. “He was banging on about how he was going to be rich! How he was going to own this city!” Nairo pulled out her notepad and began scribbling frantically while Ridley tried to get her attention again.

“Why? Why was he going to be rich?”

“Who cares! He's full of shit! And gold!” she stumbled again and Ridley caught her, guiding her to a seat on the fire escape steps.

“Did he have something with him?” Ridley asked while Nairo threw a cautious look at him.

“Ohoo! About an ounce of burn and a cask of that horrible fire water! What a party!”

“Was anyone with him?” Nairo asked as she struggled to keep the frustration out of her voice.

“Everybody! The troll, the tree, old rock face… hee hee… even tried to get me to make it with his little midget mate! He looked terrified!” She burst into a fresh gale of wheezing coughs, dry mucus foamed around the edges of her mouth. Ridley looked at Nairo and rolled his eyes.

“Can you tell us where Benny is?” Nairo asked to no avail.

“No point, she's gone down a hot hole,” Ridley said to her.

“A what?”

“Burn’s sent her loopy, she could carry on like this for hours… one second.”

He squatted down and tried to catch her eye. Crack! He slapped her so hard across the face that snot flew from her nose.

“Ridley!” Nairo cried out.

Silence fell on them. Sarita blinked wetly, her eyes refocused for a moment.

“Quick! Where's Benny? Two gold in it for you!” Two coins appeared in his long fingers, her hungry eyes followed the coins like a coiled snake ready to strike.

“He's holed up near the River,” she said, her voice slow and detached, her eyes never leaving the coins.

“Where? Be specific!”

“Yellow brick on the left of Agard Street, sixth floor.”

She lunged for the coins but Ridley snatched them back like an angry mongoose.

“Tsk tsk,” he tutted disapprovingly at her.

Sarita hissed and spat at him like a feral animal.

“Who's there with him?” Ridley snapped.

Nairo could see in her eyes she was beginning to lose focus again, the quiver of her pupils made Nairo nervous: you never knew what a desperate burner would do.

“Whole party!” Sarita spat. “The Beast with horns! All kinds of monsters and beasts follow Benny! The Beast with two backs and the lady with two heads!” She had begun rocking, hugging her knees to her, not even noticing her cigarette had burned down to nothing in her fingers, her eyes wide and unblinking. “Even tried to get me to lay with his little friend! Nearly pissed himself!” Now she burst into a fresh gale of throaty cackles. “The Shadows only know!”

“When? When did you last see him there?”

“Sunriiiiiiiiiiise!” Sarita crooned, rocking back and forth, her skinny limbs wrapping around herself.

Ridley sighed and stood up. He dusted down his trousers and flipped the two gold coins into Sarita’s lap, but she did not even notice.

“Come on Sarge. We might get lucky and Benny’s still there.” He didn’t sound very hopeful.

Nairo looked from Ridley to the rocking Sarita and her heart weighed in her chest.

“Come on Sarge!” Ridley called over his shoulder as he walked away.

Nairo bit her lip and crouched down in front of Sarita.

“Sarita?” she said, searching the addict’s eyes for anything resembling coherence.

“Leave it!” Ridley yelled from down the lane. “She's beyond saving.”

Nairo sighed and reached into her breast pocket. From it she withdrew a rectangle of white card.

“Sarita, this is my name and station. If you ever find yourself in trouble or you want a change, come and find me. I know plenty of shelters that will help you out, any time, day or night.” Nairo pressed the card into Sarita’s grimy hands and was disheartened to see nothing but mania and madness in her eyes. Nairo stood up straight with a wince and walked away without looking back.

“You can't save them all,” Ridley said when she had caught up with him. Nairo let her curly dark hair fall in front of her glistening eyes.

“Doesn't mean we shouldn't always try.”

“Your time you're wasting,” Ridley said, shrugging indifferently.

“Yeah,” Nairo said quietly.

Ridley looked at her curiously, waiting for a fighting response.

“Let's go find Benny and put an end to this,” Nairo said as she straightened her tunic and picked up the pace.

“Aye aye, Sarge.”

Their pace quickened now, their steps invigorated by purpose while the haunting image of the addled Sarita still gnawed at Nairo, the excitement of the chase warmed her spirit. At last they were honing in on their quarry. Ridley hustled in front of her, using the limited road signs and almost ethereal sense of direction to lead them like a hound with the scent. They stuck mainly to the wider main streets of the RatHoles: they felt more comfortable with the meagre sun on their face, rather than the frigid shadows of the cramped back alleys. Finally, Ridley’s pace slowed. He craned his neck upwards to glare at the crooked four storey tenements that lined this section of the slum.

“That’s our building,” he announced.

Nairo caught up to him, her side and knees ached after the brisk walk through the RatHoles.

“No it’s not. Sarita said 412.”

“Yeah I’ve been counting.”

“Then you counted wrong,” Nairo said, massaging her hip and pointing over her shoulder. “Building back there still had its number plate on: 402. The buildings have been going up in multiples of two. So… that one is 412.”

Ridley glowered at her.

“That’s what I meant.”

Nairo brushed past him and looked at the correct building.

“So which one’s Benny’s? We can't exactly start knocking on doors.”

“Sarita said she was on the fourth floor and if I know villains like Benny, they’ll always go for the top floor. Gives ‘em plenty of warning if they get raided..”

“Makes sense,” Nairo said as she too began scanning the fourth floor windows.

“Most things criminals do makes sense if you know how to look at ‘em,” Ridley replied. “Also makes sense a paranoid character like Benny wouldn’t want anyone else on his floor, so… we need signs of life.”

“There!” Nairo pointed at a window to the far left. “You can see someone’s hung dirty drapes, the rest are filth smeared, that one looks like it’s been wiped recently.”

“Or at least this decade. Good spot, Sarge.”

“We should call for backup,” Nairo said.

“What?”

“You heard Sarita, there could be any number of nasty characters up there. You and I can't apprehend all of them.”

“Need I remind you, we fought a Minotaur and won.”

“One Minotaur. And we almost died.”

“You call for backup and one of your superiors will snatch the arrest and get all the credit.”

“Who cares about that?” Nairo said.

Ridley raised his eyebrows with what Nairo could have sworn may have been a hint of admiration, but it dripped from his face like melted wax, leaving his generally condescending smirk.

“Well I’m not sitting round here with my thumb up my ass waiting for the cavalry.”

“Listen, we’ve broken enough protocol already. We need to do this by the book,” Nairo said firmly.

“And how does your protocol feel about letting a civilian wander into a potentially life threatening situation?” Ridley asked impatiently.

“Well of course it’s my duty to protect…”

“Great. I’m going in.” Ridley set off without waiting for a response.

“Wait Ridley! Stop!” she cried impotently.

He waved his hand over his shoulder and continued. With a deep sigh, Nairo set off after him.

“You can’t just…”

“Great Sarge, knew you had some balls. I’m gonna climb that fire escape on the neighbouring building. I reckon I can shimmy across the ledge and come in through the window, in case he tries to bolt.” He explained as they crossed the street.

“And I suppose you want me to go in the front door?” Nairo asked with naked exasperation.

“Well you are the police officer, it would be breaking and entering if I kicked the door in.”

“And you’ve never committed a crime before, right?” Nairo replied sarcastically.

“Least not one you lot have caught me for,” Ridley shot back with a satisfied smirk.

“Fine! Let’s just get this over and done with and wrap this case up.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ridley put a foot on the poorly constructed brick of the neighbouring tenement, trying to map out his route. Suddenly, he turned to Nairo, his expression grimly serious.

“Be careful in there, Sarge. Benny’s volatile and very dangerous. You don’t like the look of anything you get out of there.”

Nairo paused and bit back a sarcastic comment. She nodded and found a speck of dirt on her tunic suddenly very interesting.

“Cap’n will have my ass if anything happened to you,” he added and began climbing the building.

“Be careful, Ridley,” she called up to him before turning to the entrance of the tenement. She took a deep breath and gave her a sore hip a final shake before pulling open the door and stepping through.

The whole world was sucked out the closing door behind her. The temperature fell. Damp rose thickly around her, the musty smell clogged her nose. Nairo felt as if she had stepped into a sunken wreck. Only the thinnest glimmers of light shone through the eerily silent hallway. Deep within the walls there was a faint scuttling and scratching. The air felt heavy. She sucked laboured breaths through her mouth and cautiously made her way through the crooked hallway. Shadows in beastly shapes dogged her every step and despite the frigid temperature of the sunless hall, and the chill in the air, she felt beads of sweat pool around her collar. Nairo found herself subconsciously tiptoeing like a naughty child out of bed past curfew. She skirted round the edges of the shadowy hallway and came to the bottom of the stairs. One look told her the rot had set its decrepit jaws into the wood of the staircase. With a steadying breath, Nairo placed a foot on the bottom step. A grotesque groan of deformed wood tore through the still building.

Nairo stopped dead.

She tossed her head from side to side like a prey beast scenting blood. The pulse of her racing heart throbbed in her ears. She flared her nostrils, breathing heavily, ready to fight or run. The dust settled and the heavy underwater atmosphere swallowed the hallway. She waited another breath. Ridley would be halfway up the building now. She had to keep moving. With teeth gritted, she took another hesitant step. Another groan of wood, this one not as outrageous as its predecessor, emanated from the ancient staircase. Nairo hardened her resolve and decided to take the bandage approach: she held her breath, thought light thoughts, and leapt up the stairs. She felt the remnants of the stairway’s carpet squelch under her shoes, the damp carpet sucked at her feet trying to swallow her whole. She hit the top step of the stairs and threw herself into a shadowy recess and waited. Her breath rattled in her chest. She willed her heart to quiet.

Nothing.

Even the faint scratching had disappeared. Nairo felt like the only living creature for miles. After a few seconds she ventured back out and looked up and down the hall. Again, nothing. No sign of life, not even the vermin stirred. She swallowed the nerves that fought their way up her throat into her brain where they would morph into panic. Flicking sweat out of her eyes, Nairo looked around her and realised just how isolated she was. No one other than Ridley knew she was here and there was no saying he hadn’t been captured or more likely had slipped and fallen to his death. This was against all regulations. When they eventually found her stabbed and brutalised corpse it would serve as an example to all young officers in the Academy of why you should always follow protocol.

With a steel as hard as the badge she had hidden in her breast pocket, she began to ascend the second staircase. Dim beams of light shone through the dilapidated building, motes of dust floated listlessly around her. The ethereal atmosphere and elegant dance of light and dust was rudely spoiled by the putrid stench of the building. The longer Nairo spent in this strange sunken building the dizzier she felt. Breathing felt too thick and heavy, making her clumsy as she stumbled down the hallway to the final set of stairs.

‘What was that?’

The thought flashed across her subconscious mind as she saw a strange shape in the dim light. Nairo threw herself against the slimy wall and peered intently at the foot of the staircase. Was her mind playing tricks on her? No, there was definitely a shape in the darkness. It was huddled into itself, unmoving. For a sickening moment Nairo thought she might have come across a dead body. After a few breathless seconds the figure stirred and gave a dry hacking cough. Nairo peeled herself from the wall and approached cautiously. As she peered into the dim twilight of the hall, she could just make out pale sallow skin riddled with oozing sores that marred half of what she thought was his face. His cheekbones were sharp and angular with malnourishment, his eyes were sunken and hollow. Those eyes. They swivelled madly in his head, unseeing and devoid of anything human. There was a brief flash where it seemed like he saw Nairo and then his eyes continued on their aimless journey.

“Hello?” she called and then winced as her voice echoed in the darkness. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

There was not even a twitch of recognition or understanding from the skeletal creature. His only response was to give another hacking cough, his raspy breath rattled at sporadic intervals, his mouth hung open in slack jawed vacancy.

“Do you need help?” she whispered, feeling stupid even as the words left her mouth. Again, there was nothing. Nairo bit her bottom lip and looked at her pocket watch. Time was ticking and Ridley could already be closing in on Benny. He needed backup and she was all he had. “I’ll… I’ll come back,” she said to the hunched wheezing creature. “I’ll come back and help you, I promise. Just wait there, okay?” she searched his eyes for any sign that he had heard her, but his eyes just continued to roll in madness.

Nairo skirted around him and, with leaden feet and a heavy heart, she ascended the last staircase, looking back every few steps to check if he was still there, until the darkness swallowed him. A desperate desire to see the sun and breathe the fresh air made her quicken her pace. This floor too seemed abandoned. Carefully, she counted the doors, trying to remember which window she had seen from the outside. She stopped just short of the final door. It was ajar. She felt her blood quicken. Fresh streams of sweat poured down her neck. Unlocked doors only meant two things in the criminal world: either you were expected, or no one was left alive to lock it. With a steadiness she did not feel, she slowly crept towards the door, ears pricked for the slightest sound. The hall was deathly silent. Jaw clenched, nostrils flared, and knuckles whitened, she coiled herself.

“One… Two…”