BLUEMANTLE by Karen Langston (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud TXT) 📕

endured a restless night with little sleep. His conversation with Weldon and the reaction it prompted had rattled him. He had somehow shifted from relishing the upper hand to balancing a house of cards.

Ursel hadn’t meant to matter. He was a sleeper because he wanted to bring down the Scene. He hated the Authority; he just hated Users more. That’s where he had agreed with Weldon. If Users obeyed the law and stayed away, the Scene would die out. There would be no need for the Deaf Squad and their legitimised brutality. The Wall of the Missing would dwindle, rather than expand on a daily basis. The benefits of the original deal aside, Chase had felt comfortable with the arrangement. His contribution to a desirable outcome suited him.

Now, that comfort had a blade pressed against its throat. Weldon’s questions had triggered a reaction he had not anticipated, but which confirmed a suspicion that had crept into his chest when he had witnessed Chief perform. He couldn’t articulate why, but Ursel had begun to matter. She was no longer a means to an end. Weldon’s suggestion had given intuition an undeniable form.

Whatever other betrayals he was responsible for, he couldn’t reveal who she was. He couldn’t let her be part of the cost of saving Wella and destroying the Scene.

Hence the precarious cards, poised to topple by his own wrong move.

Wulfwin had already pressed him on the identity of his source. Maintaining a plausible argument for withholding her name was his first hurdle. The second was how to manage the flow of intelligence so that his plan could still work. Wulfwin had trusted him up until now, but he knew that could too easily change. He also knew Wulfwin’s reputation; he was not a man to double-cross and expect to survive unscathed.

Inside the dingy basement of a disused industrial unit in Coxen Lyme, Chase waited, his heart racing.

Wulfwin emerged from the shadows, silently appearing as if he had been there all along. His tall, broad frame, coupled with the ankle-length trench coat, made his silhouette huge and imposing. Chase swallowed hard.

Wulfwin stepped into a shaft of faint light, revealing the side of his face that bore the sneering scar. He studied Chase in silence, his mind still processing the morning’s interrogation. He had left the man in the Complex Infirmary. There was significant doubt over whether or not he would survive the internal bleeding and punctured lung. It was of no consequence to Wulfwin; he had already won. Two names. It amused him to suspect that the man had little idea of their value.

He stood before Chase, a wry smile on his lips, debating when to play his hand. “What have you got for me?” he said at last.

Chase stepped forward. “I saw a man. In Tempur, yesterday evening. He’s part of the Scene, I’m certain. Here,” he said, holding out a piece of paper. “An address. I think it’s where he lives. You might want to check him out. I believe he’s the creator of Bluemantle.”

Wulfwin raised his eyebrows, now fully engaged. “Really? And what makes you think that?”

“I followed him. Saw him duck down an alley, acting suspicious. I went back later and found a package there, tucked away.” He pulled out the fanzine from a pocket in his trousers and held it out to Wulfwin. “Bluemantle. He’d been stashing bundles of them.”

Wulfwin took the fanzine and glanced through the folded pages. “You have done well, Chase. I’m impressed. And we know what this means, don’t we?”

“An event.”

“Indeed.” Wulfwin nodded slowly, absorbing the implications. “I take it you’ve read this carefully?”

“Every word. Nothing stands out.”

“Meanwhile, we know who can read between the lines.” He looked up, his eyes locking on to Chase’s so the latter couldn’t look away. “Now is the time, Chase. We have to know the date and location in order to pre-empt the show. We can be in position, ready to strike, the moment the Music Makers appear. You have to give up your source. We will make them decipher the code.”

“I can’t—”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I, er… We need that person to take me there. The coordinates might not take us all the way.”

“The coordinates can take us far enough. Quit bullshitting, Chase.”

“I’ve just given you the address of Bluemantle’s creator. He writes the damn thing. He’ll tell you.”

“I’m well aware of that avenue of investigation and I’m looking forward to pursuing it. However, experience tells me some Users can’t be broken. If he is, as you suspect, the creator of Bluemantle and not just some dope, arm-twisted into distributing it, then it means he’s heavily involved. Chances are, he’ll go all the way and we won’t learn a sodding thing. Your source is our back-up.”

“Look, I’ll persuade the person to tell me the date and place. That way, we’ll know when to be ready and I’ll still have them on board. If I give them up now, it burns the bridge for good.”

“Nice try.”

“What do you mean? I’m serious. We need them on side.”

“I’m intrigued, Chase. You seem very protective of a type you’ve previously branded ‘User scum’.”

Chase felt his face flushing. Wulfwin was becoming suspicious, he could tell. He floundered, struggling to come up with a plausible excuse. Then it hit him. Something Ursel had said that first time he and Naylor met her at the Telltale Circus. “Not quite, but that’ll do.” Hoping that he’d interpreted her correctly, he relinquished his forced hand. “Her name’s Ursel.”

“I know.”

“What…?”

“A friend of yours dropped by the Exchange. He betrayed your precious source – not long before he betrayed you.” Wulfwin smiled, relishing the reveal.

Chase’s mind raced. Who could’ve…? Who would…? he thought. What else does he know? The cards collapsed.

“Only, your friend was of limited value. Sure, he told me her name and then linked her to you, but that was it. Turns out she’s not on state records. Whereas, you’re better acquainted with the woman in question. So, tell me. What’s her full