Section F: Fairy Tales & Physicists

Chapter 3

"So, never mind being bloody princesses, you're telling me those murdered women might be from different universes? Peregrine, you actually expect me to believe that?"

"No, Mr Fields. I expect you to die."

"What!"

"Ha, jokes. Not a Bond fan, huh? Look Fields, I don't expect anything. But what I advise you to do is keep an open mind. And trust me when I tell you that sometimes, just occasionally—often when you least expect it—things are not as they seem. Oh, most of the time, they are. Most of the time, the boring, mundane, everyday, by-the-book, laws-of-thermodynamics, non-fairy-tale-princess reasons turn out to be the actual reasons. But sometimes, just often enough to keep things interesting—and to keep us employed—they're not. Trust me, I should know."

An open mind was something Fields prided himself on—but there were limits. "And I suppose you think this is one of those times?"

Peregrine shrugged. "Too early to tell. But there's enough here for us to dig a little deeper."

Shaking his head, Fields wandered over to the boxy structure Radovic had been inspecting. It looked big enough to hold a person, or maybe two, provided they didn't have any issues with intimacy. As he gave it a half-hearted prod, he noticed fixtures and marks on the wall and floor alongside the structure, suggesting it had recently been moved. Or possibly, he realised, that there had been a second box. "How did you even hear about this place? About Featherstone?"

"Fields, the Novus Institute deals with research at the cutting-edge of science—basically, they work on the border between the known and the unknown. That's Section F territory. And I like to keep an eye on my territory. Our territory, now."

"What, so you were doing a little light reading on quantum physics, and stumbled across somebody researching princess portals?"

Peregrine chuckled, and shaped to give her partner another friendly punch, before realising he was out of range. "Not exactly. I just put the word out, asking my contacts to watch for anything princess related. I thought they might turn up something like a cult with a fairy-tale fixation, or a hardcore cosplayer group with reality issues, or a sex-ring with a Snow-White fetish—you know, routine stuff like that."

At the sight of her raised fist, Fields edged a little further away. "Routine?"

"Yep—boring, everyday crap. Not the kind of stuff that makes it into Section F. Instead, I got a tip from my man on the inside here—an ex-con working as a cleaner. Started finding fairy-tale paraphernalia around Featherstone's lab"—she pointed towards Grimms' Fairy Tales—"and came in late one night to find him watching Snow White on his laptop."

Fields absorbed this. "Well, that's hardly compelling, is it? I mean, the book might just be for his kids, and maybe he was checking out movies for them, too. Or maybe he's just a closet Disney tragic. They're out there."

"Maybe, Fields. Maybe. Except that Featherstone doesn't have any kids—never been married. No nephews or nieces, either 'cause he's an only child. Not so much as an annoying kid next door."

Despite himself, Fields felt the first stirrings of interest. Faint stirrings. "Let me guess—he's also a bit of a loner? Mainly keeps to himself?"

"Ha! You got it."

As he was inclined to do when thinking deeply, Fields stroked his chin. "Okay, so I'll grant you this Featherstone character comes across as a bit suspicious. A bit. But it's still awfully thin. No social life and questionable taste in movies hardly make him Robinson Crusoe. There's not much to go on."

"Welcome to Section F, partner. 'Not much to go on' could be our motto. But let's have a look at what we have got. On the one hand, there's a mega-nerd who thinks he can access other worlds and is a fan of the Brothers Grimm. On the other, there's a bunch of dead princesses. See what we've got there?"