Walls Came Tumbling Down

ÿþSalvo wandered into the dining room, with his empty coffee mug dangling from his finger. He carefully stepped over the piles of books that were spilling out from the box beside Century. The table was a mess of lollipop wrappers, with a large map of Ancient Britain sprawled over two chairs. "How's it going in here?" He dislodged 'British Folk-Tales and Legends' by Katharine Briggs from its precarious perch on the edge of a chair, and had to swoop to catch it. None of the bookmarks fell out. Salvo placed it more carefully on the table itself. "Luleka's having a nap. Thought I'd make up a bite to eat. Sandwich?"

Century was engrossed in Paul Devereux's 'Spirit Roads: An Exploration of Otherworldly Routes'. It had already sprouted a crop of ripped off pieces of paper, marking practically every page, as far as Salvo could make out. The teenager replied, distantly, "Minute." Another piece of notepad was torn off and inserted into the fold. Then Century reached up and took the earphones from his ears. "What's that?"

"Sorry, I didn't see that you were plugged in."

"You told me to sit down and listen to Muse." Century looked pensive, his mind not yet out of his research. "How's it going with Iraq?"

"That's a polite question that you have no interest in hearing at the moment. Carry on with what you need to be thinking about instead. It seems to have steadied you." Salvo winked. "I'll make you a cheese sandwich."

Century nodded, barely listening and not having registered that he was being offered food. He sucked languidly on his lollipop, while his gaze travelled slowly, unseeing, over the books on the floor. He touched the keyboard and the monitor switched away from black. There were 28 tabs open in his browser. He had to left-click in order to create another. He searched, 'Nanteos + huntsman', then followed a link to a site. Then he breathed an ironic laugh. "Phantom huntsman associated with Nanteos."

"Is that significant?" Salvo smiled, knowing that his role here was as sounding-board. He refilled the percolator and took a jar of mixed pickles out of the cupboard. "Silence was the reply."

"Sorry." Century sat back. "Do you believe in fairies?"

"I prefer not to have a view on anything that I haven't thoroughly researched for myself."

"Do you accept the possibility that they might actually exist?"

"I accept everything as a possibility, that the irrefutable evidence absolutely supports." Salvo selected three large gherkins and a miniature pickled onion for himself. He contemplated letting Century chose his own pickles, but the teenager wasn't entirely in the present. He concluded that it was better to just put food in front of him and trust that it would be consumed. "With no pre-conceptions that I cannot justify."

Century nodded and took the lollipop from his mouth. "Fenian has been on about this since the word go. At first I thought he was joking and trying to lead Mello into believing shit."

"I'm sure that Mello would, ordinarily, check out the background on anything before he commits himself to it."

"But Fian was still going on about it when he came back. Matt accused him of doing it to suck up to Kiana, who's into this hippy stuff." Century frowned. "Mm."

Salvo cut the sandwiches. "Just give me a moment to get over the shock of Matt speaking." He put the bread-knife into the sink. "Ok, I'm over it. Carry on." He picked his way over the books to deliver Century's lunch.

The Welshman looked surprised. "You've done some for me too? Thanks." He took the plate.

Salvo laughed. "You're welcome." He found a relatively clear chair and picked the books off it to put onto the table, before sitting down. "So there were fairies?" A faint smile grew into a snort. "Thinking very un-PC thoughts about Mello and Matt in this context. Self-censorship activated. Tell me about the fairies."

Century spoke through a mouthful of cheese sandwich. "First of all, clear your mind of all you know about fairies. Little, two inch fluttering things living in flowers? Victorian bollocks, the lot of it."

"You don't say." Salvo affected surprise, but he was taking this opportunity to inspect Century's demeanour. Even after a night's sleep, there were huge bags under the teenager's eyes and he just seemed gaunt. He was habitually pale by nature, but his pallor now was grey. There was no cyanosis, nor breathlessness, which supported Fenian's theory that Century was panicking himself into half of his health troubles lately. Salvo had resolved to persuade Century to go and lie down or relax in front of the television, but now he amended his plan. The distraction of this case, in calm surroundings, appeared to be helping.

"Meditate on the meaning of the word 'fairy'. Better yet, on 'fey' first. Comes from Fate, it does; destiny. Someone puts the fey on you and you can't escape it. Attaches itself to your life, see? And you can move to the other side of the world and live in a nuclear bunker, but your fey is going to catch up with you."

"So it's a curse."

Century frowned. "I don't know. I haven't quite got a grasp on it yet. Wishing I'd spoken with Kiana more, when she was here. Call her later, I think, when I have my questions all mapped out. She seemed to get the metaphysics of it." He popped a pickle into his mouth and munched it. "But I think it's fatal." He stopped and blinked. "Sal, what's the etymology of the word 'fatal'?"

"Erm." Salvo shrugged. "Sorry, I don't happen to know that just off the top of my head. But I will find out for you."

"No fucking way." Century was already searching Google. "Fatal, decreed by Fate. Destined. Ordained by Fate. Causing death." He sat back, astonishment on his features. "I did not know that. Plus in British lore, there's a lot of ambiguity between the fairies and the dead, like they are the same thing. Old sayings that you don't disrespect the fairies, because your own deceased could be amongst them." He picked up 'The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries' and waved it at Salvo. "Corpse paths and fairy paths all the same thing and most of them dating back to the neolithic. Mad, it is."

Salvo nodded sagely. "I don't understand any of these terms. Do I need to?"

"Do you know why we call them fairies? Bendith y mamu - the Mother's Blessing; tylwyth teg - the beautiful family; the English 'fairies' - the fair people. Why are we doing that? Calling them that? Using a compliment as a name?"

"Because it's fatal not to?"

"Precisely!" Century crowed. "Fwc. Disney have them floating around all over the screen, entertaining children. Tinkerbell and..." He frowned and couldn't think of another cartoon fairy. "Things like that. But it's not like that at all! Throughout our history, we've been scared bloody stupid of them. And why is that? Because if they turn against us, it's over. Kill us, they do. Original meaning of fate is to turn the fey against us, and their power so strong, they can force us into it. Turn our world against us. Fwc with our minds, see."

"How?" Salvo asked, dutifully.

But Century grimaced. "Don't know yet, do I? Because I haven't read that far. But the point here is that, for as long as there have been people in Britain," he immediately corrected himself, "well, from the neolithic at least. We obviously don't know what, say, Boxgrove man believed in. Can't cover the whole 500,000 years, but the last 2,000 are looking good." He swallowed another pickle. "For two millennia, people been terrified of the fairies. Putting out milk to pacify them; carrying iron and calling them nice names. Then the old Victorians, they come along and dissociate fate from fairies; turn them into nursery figures with little, old petal caps. Next thing you know, none of us believe in them anymore and the only reason we're not laughing at them, is because they aren't worth the bother, see? Fictitious, cute, butterfly-y thing. But the clues are there. We still say, 'it was a fatal accident' or 'it was a fatal attraction'. Warning each other! Leaving the words in the lexicon, so that in the future, people will still know."

"Are you arguing that this was pre-planned?"

"No."

"Ok." Salvo smiled. "So the fairy-folk of Britain can cause us to get killed or fall in love with the wrong person?"

"If we're believing every legend..."

"Which we apparently are." Salvo laughed. "Sorry, I interrupted. My mind is still open and I'm going with the passive research for now."

Century frowned and put down his empty plate. "Don't get me wrong. Not saying yet that I believe this. All a bit incredible, really, isn't it?" He picked up the Devereux book. "You know that megalith that Fenian found down in the, well, I found it really, because it was me who had him open up the altar. But he went down there and identified the sodding great standing stone, in the middle of the house." Century shook his head, still mystified by the thinking behind that. "Well, it was quartz, he said. Quartz! Now, it says in here," he inclined his head to read aloud from the book, "'.... quartz is a fairy stone... Neolithic monuments in Ireland and elsewhere, made great use of quartz, and seemingly in a ritualistic way... another general - and rather curious - piece of lore warned not to extend a house in a westerly direction... to extend a house into a field or any open ground or across a path lying to the west is fatal.'" Century looked up, amazement showing in his features. "Fatal."

"I'm guessing that the manor house extension went west over the quartz."

"Yeah. That's where the extension was. Oh! There were some stables to the east, but the bulk of it was west. But look what they do if you piss them off with building houses over their patch. Poltergeist activity; causing arguments in families; bloke here, his children all gone from healthy to dying, until a wise woman told him about his house being in the wrong place. Opened the front and back doors, he did, so the fairies could still follow their path. Kiddies, they got better instantly." Century considered it. "Doesn't mention how soon afterwards they all sickened again and died through hypothermia, having those old doors propped permanently open."

Salvo laughed. "What did you say about appeasing them? Put milk out and carry some iron? Best do that, now that we're aware."

"Also associated with the fairy paths are black dogs with fiery eyes." Century stiffened slightly, recalling his own desperate flight through the woods, convinced that the Cu
n Annwn were on his tail. "Phantom funerals. Ghosts, which could be the same thing, in Celtic lore; fairies and ghosts being interchangeable sometimes. I don't know. Bit confused on that point. Ah! But here! The ghost paths sometimes, oh, where the fwc did I read that?"

"You're now saying 'ghost paths'. Am I understanding this as the same as 'fairy paths', 'corpse paths' and 'spirit roads'?"

Century nodded. "Far as I can make out. Don't know yet, do I? Daren't ask Fenian yet, because I've been pissing all over his theory for weeks. Want to be sure there's something in it first." He found the passage in the book. "Right, here there is a man on his bicycle, going down an old country lane. Suddenly he sees a black man in front of him." He skim-read the page. "Appeared from a whitethorn bush and stepped into a hollow with a puddle in it. Then just disappears." He looked up to see if Salvo had made the connection. He saw the grin. "No! Not a fucking African. Shadowy figure, it said. Jet black piece of shadow, on the fairy path." Century rolled his eyes. "This bloke, he goes on to the village and speaks to a priest, who says the black man came from the Otherworld."

"So many punchlines there and, when the situation has less serious implications, I will personally compose them all." Salvo chewed gum. "Anything about these shadow creatures possessing people and making them shoot their partners?"

"Not yet. But isn't shade another word for ghost?"

Salvo nodded. "Chrissie's probably still going to go with the Seroxat route for Matt. It's quicker and easier to prove; plus it's almost certainly true. Luigi has already sent her more information, case-studies and investigation notes than she could possibly read through in this life-time, but he obviously feels useful, so she's letting him get on with it." He contemplated this new facet. "Of course, it could be a mixture of things. It could be that he just got sick of Mello beating the crap out of him and decided to top him, at the first opportunity that he thought he could get away with it."

"They weren't as tight as usual. Couple of occasions, they were rowing in front of us."

"Mello and Matt were?" Salvo grimaced. "Must have been bad, if they were letting it slip in public."

Century slowly nodded, still skimming through the book. "What's your gut feeling telling you happened up there? Just between them, I mean."

"Soon as we heard, Chrissie said to me, 'anti-depressants.'" Salvo shrugged. "It felt like something was building."

"Why the anti-depressants though? It's a bit random."

Salvo frowned, "Is it? Matt's had problems with prescription pills since we were kids. I can remember him over-dosing on them, not long after Mello left." He caught Century's nod. He remembered too. "You might have missed some of the lesser freak-outs, because they got covered up more. Chrissie was aware of it long before I was. She's sat on a few preventative suicide watches, making him stay in the common room or the refectory, where she could keep her eye on him. Ann hid him from Roger too. I don't know. Maybe you were just slightly too young to be in the loop. You were only about 11 or 12, when Matt started with this caper. Me, Mairoo, Chrissie, Linda and, ironically enough, Hollow once had a little meeting about it in Linda's room. We decided against telling Roger, because..."

"Roger's as much use as a chocolate fireguard."

"Yeah." Salvo shrugged. "In retrospect, I wished we had told him. It might have nipped it in the bud a bit earlier. Supposing that Roger actually did something about it." They exchanged dubious expressions. "Then again, I don't know. Sometimes Roger could surprise us with getting it right."

"I was definitely too young to remember that day."

"Roger tried. He was just out-numbered, out of his league and completely over-whelmed by his responsibilities. He wasn't too bad, while Wammy and L were pulling the strings." Salvo uttered a half-laugh at the unconvinced look on Century's face. "Whatever. We all agreed to covertly watch Matt and if he seemed dazed and more unreceptive than usual, we'd close ranks to make sure that he made it back out. Then all bets were resumed and he was fair game for trying to out-rank again."

Century sat up from where he'd been slumping in his seat. "Yeah, but then and now, right? Wouldn't give you the time of day. Wouldn't acknowledge the air that you breathed, let alone that you might be standing next to him. I think I can count on one hand the amount of times he ever spoke to me, at the Institution. I grew up in close contact with him and do I know him? No. Cold, ignorant arsehole. That's all I get, thinking back. But now." Century frowned. "Has more confidence, is it? I don't know. He just seems more there and there's a conversation, sort of, sometimes. I don't feel as blanked these days, as I was back then. I could see a little more of what he's about. Then boom! He pulls that fucking stupid stunt on Fenian and Kiana; pulls a knife on Hal; attacks Valerie; then shoots Mello twice."

"Time-bomb." Salvo nodded, with a humourless smile. "Each new bulletin we were getting from the front line felt dire."

"Should have been in the middle of it, man."

"Yeah." Salvo rose to pour himself a coffee. "We'd already had the conversation before it happened. When Matt pulled that knife on Hal, Chrissie said to me that he's acting like a time-bomb. She used the analogy of those seismic shocks that you get before the big one. Perhaps a volcano would be a better metaphor. Dormant for years, then blows." He stirred in his milk. "Do you want coffee?"

Century shook his head. "Good with my water, thanks."

"Fact is, we'd already concluded that it was going to be long-term anti-depressant abuse that was behind this behaviour. Chrissie tried to get Luigi to raid the medical files at the Institution, but the drawer was locked. Luigi's too chicken to bust into it."

"Fwciau cachi." Century exhaled. He was still reading 'Spirit Roads'. "Can't cross water!" He closed his eyes, then bowed his head. He muttered too low for Salvo to hear.

"The fairies can't?" Salvo crept closer. "What's up? Gone dizzy?"

"No." Century's head shot up. "It's not over! They blew up the house, but that was only the surface barrier! Fwc! Prothero diverted the cachiau nant out of the bloody cwm!"

Salvo nodded and sat down. "The stream was diverted out of the valley?"

"Under the house. Fenian fell in it." Century was shaking, the onset of a panic attack obviously imminent. "Still can't get to the quartz, is it? Because the damned stream cuts right behind it, underground. This old shadow man here," he waved the book in agitation, "disappeared by the stream. Duw! But he knew what he was doing! So the old tylwyth teg, they pull in the big guns, do they? Gwrach-y-Rhibyn, one of the fairy-folk, but lives in the water, down in the river, is it?" He shook his head. "Death, fairies, Gwrach, river. Why didn't we make the connection before? It's all fucking there, plain as fwc." He sighed and looked close to tears.

"Ok." Salvo had already put his coffee mug down onto the table. He reached across now and plucked the book from Century's hand. "Nothing is any different now than it was five minutes ago. We just have a little more information and that can be dealt with. You're ok. I'm ok. You worked this out. Well done. Now you need to calm right down." He kept his voice level and soothing. "Have a lollipop; listen to your music. If it's truly not over, then we're closing in on fixing it."

Century nodded. His face had been crumpling, but he was listening to Salvo. He looked around, fearfully, as the older man stopped talking. "You did bring in my defibrillator last night? Very late, I was, with my medication today. I might..."

"You won't." Salvo smiled, kindly. "You're not having another heart-attack ever again. That's done. It's dusted. It's over. Now you need to put it behind you and regain that infamous Century nonchalance, that was the envy of all your fans."

A weak laugh spluttered out of Century in response. "Fans?"

"Your fan-club has established branches in both Cumbria and Ireland. Fenian and I have been wanting to be you for years. Now you've stopped being you, so we might have to transfer our allegiance to someone more together. Like Luigi."

Century chuckled. "That bad, am I?"

Salvo winked and sat back. "You're alright now." It wasn't a question, so Century believed him. "I'm keeping custody of the book though. You've got two months of NMEs and Q magazines in there, stacked up waiting for you. Why don't you curl up on the settee and read them?"

"No." Century reached for a lollipop. "Still need to work out how to fix it. Can't expect you to do that and your urgent Iraqi job."

"Then let me see if Fenian is out of his pit yet. Failing that, Dee is still down there, isn't she? Send her in with a large pack of Semtex and get her to finish the job that Mello started."

Century stared, wide-eyed, "No way Deontic is going down there on her own. Not on my case. Me and you go? Pack up the car again and go down by there and..." He stopped at Salvo's shaking head. "Why not?"

"Not in a million years." Salvo informed him. "If anyone is clambering through tunnels, it's Fenian. If anyone is blowing shit up, it's Mello. And you are going to be the one sitting pretty here, sifting through this mass of data, calling the shots. But it's all quiet down there, so the next issue is to find out why it kicked off so big this time and to predict the next possible occurrence. But that can wait. Take a break."

"I'm on one now!"

"No you're not. We've been having a case consultation summit, over cheese sandwiches." Salvo surveyed him. "Come on, Iestyn, can't you just humour me on this one? Because I see a man who needs a break and I'd rather not be worrying about that, while I'm dealing with the man who could be executed next Friday." He saw Century look away, unconvinced. "Please? Just play the piano. Read magazines. Call Siân and have 'phone sex. I don't care. Just step back from this shit for an hour or two. Give yourself a break." He saw a wince flicker across Century's features. "You've earned it. Truly you have. Step back, cariad."

To his surprise, Century nodded and stood up. "I'll go and have a lie down."

"Thank you." Salvo breathed a sigh of relief, as he watched the teenager trudge out of the room. Century carried the aspect of an old man about him. Salvo pursed his lips, but was prepared with a smile, if Century was to glance back. He didn't. He passed out of view up the stairs and took them slowly. Salvo took out his 'phone and called Fenian, via Watari. It rang out several times, before switching onto voicemail. "Hey, it's Sal. Call me." He hung up and sat back to skim-read the book.

It took him just over twenty minutes to gain the general essence of the points made by the author. This wasn't Salvo's field of expertise, so he had no way of evaluating the reliability of Paul Devereux as a source. He spat his coffee encrusted chewing gum into the bin and folded a fresh stick into his mouth. He had to get back to work, but something was bothering him. He moved lightly across the kitchen and out through the hallway door. He automatically glanced up the stairs, then Salvo's heart leapt at the unexpected sight halfway up them.

"Sorry I made you jump." Century said, from his perch.

"Why are you sitting in the stairs?"

"Having a break and thinking." Century replied, not wanting to mention that it was at this height that he first felt breathless, so he'd sat down and had been contemplating the case ever since.

Salvo sighed. "If the shadow man is a fairy; and the fairies wanted access to the quartz stone; then why did the shadow man go out of his way to stop Mello blowing the building up?"

Century stared, considered it, then replied honestly, "I have no idea."

"I'm back on the Iraqi case. Go and lie down. See you in a bit."