Past Sins

by Matthew Stott

  The Fox shivered a little and then turned his attention back to his crisps. ‘Do you have any more salt & vinegar?’

  I was meeting Annie in a little Italian place down a back street in Keswick. It was a short distance from my flat, so I left the Fox to his TV watching and headed over on foot.

  The truth was, my stomach was in knots at the prospect of meeting Annie, and I hoped the cool, early evening air might help me get a hold of myself.

  It may come as some surprise to you, but my romantic history was somewhat patchy. I know, I know, I’m tall, reasonable looking, and possess at least one good outfit and the aforementioned beautiful hair, but when it came to women, my experience was scant.

  There were a couple of reasons for this. Number one, I didn’t remember the vast majority of my life. Perhaps before waking naked next to a lake, I’d been a legendary lover in the Uncanny world. For all I knew, hundreds of women throughout history had considered me the finest sex person they’d ever lain with.

  You don’t know, it could be true.

  The other reason, is that for the chunk of my life I do remember—the last ten years—I’d spent much of it in love with Chloe, a doctor at the hospital I worked at. This unspoken love had stopped me considering much in the way of other options, and when we finally did get together, it turned out she was secretly an insane person who planned to lead an army of octopus-limbed soul vampires into battle against humanity.

  As I say. A patchy romantic history.

  I peered through the glass of the restaurant’s door to see Annie was already sat at the table I’d booked. I took three slow, deep breaths, straightened out my coat, checked my hair, then entered.

  ‘Hello!’

  I yelled the greeting in Annie’s direction, startling not just her, but everyone else in the place. Trying to ignore the glares of the rest of the eaters, I hastily made my way over to the table and took a seat.

  ‘Sorry, did I just shout really loudly?’ I asked.

  ‘You did a bit. And at quite a shrill pitch, too.’

  ‘Why, thank you,’ I said, which made her laugh. Okay, I hadn’t blown things already.

  Actually, that was a bit of an understatement. Not only had I not blown things, but what followed was one of the nicest hours I could remember experiencing in a long time. The nerves melted away within seconds and we spoke and ate and drank and laughed.

  So, yes, of course I was about to ruin things. This is me you’re dealing with here.

  Having paid a visit to the Gents, I exited the toilet cubicle and washed my hands. I’m not an animal. I gave myself a little wink in the mirror. ‘You’re doing good, kid,’ I told myself. Awful.

  ‘Swim down, Janto.’

  I jerked around, looking for the source of the voice, but I was alone. Well, apart from the faint smell of bleach and urine.

  ‘Swim down.’

  Of course I knew the voices. It was the two witches I’d murdered.

  ‘Where are you?’

  Previously I’d only heard them whilst asleep, I wondered if this was a bad sign.

  ‘Hello? Can you hear me?’

  ‘Swim down.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Why? Why do you keep saying that?’

  A movement in the mirror caught my eye. It was ripples. The glass was now the surface of the lake from my dream. I found myself moving closer to it, squinting, trying to see what was in the water.

  ‘Swim down.’

  It was an army.

  It was my army.

  An army of the dead, waiting for me at the bottom of the Dark Lakes.

  Waiting for my command.

  ‘Swim down, Janto.’

  A hand shot from the mirror towards me and I stumbled back, yelping with surprise.

  ‘You alright mate?’

  I spun around to find a fellow diner had entered without me noticing. I looked back to the mirror, but that’s all it was again. No ripples, no water, no figures.

  ‘I said, are you alright?’ asked the concerned diner.

  ‘No. I mean yes, sorry.’ I patted my stomach theatrically. ‘Dodgy seafood playing havoc with my insides.’

  I glanced at the mirror again, and headed out of the bathroom, back to my table. Annie beamed up at me, then her face crumpled as she saw the expression on my face.

  ‘Hey, are you okay? What happened?’

  ‘What? Nothing. Fine. I’m fine.’

  Why was I lying to her? She knew weird stuff existed, she’d sold her soul to demons for God’s sake.

  ‘Would you like to see the dessert menu?’ asked the waiter.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can you give us a moment?’ said Annie.

  The waiter gave me a bit of side-eye, then smiled at Annie and left.

  What I’d seen in the bathroom I’d only ever experienced in my dreams, so why here, and why now? Was Annie being present in any way connected to the visions? If she was the kind of person who’d courted demons for most of her life, how did I know I could trust her? Maybe this was just Chloe all over again, only this time I’d actually seen the warning signs first. With Chloe it came out of the blue, but Annie… she’d already shown she was willing to mix with some pretty questionable sorts.

  ‘Joe?’

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘Are you okay, you’ve been staring at me with a strange look on your face for about a minute now.’

  ‘Those demons you used to sell your soul to…’

  ‘Yeah? What about them?’

  ‘Are you ever tempted to go back down that well and bargain for more stuff?’

  ‘What? Of course not. You know I wouldn’t, I have a daughter to think about now.’

  ‘Right. Of course.’

  My heart was hammering against my chest as I tried to decide whether she was in on it or not. In on whatever it was that was happening. Maybe she knew about all those dead farm animals too. I could feel sweat prickling on my forehead. Christ, was the room getting smaller? The walls were crowding in, trying to smother me. I grabbed my glass of beer and drank half in one go, my brain turning somersaults. Had I fallen for it again? Did I have another Chloe on my hands? Typical me, typical me. Eva was right, I was an idiot.

  ‘Joe, seriously, what’s wrong with you? We were having a nice time.’

  ‘Yeah, it really seemed like we were.’

  I stood and rummaged for my wallet, pulling out enough to cover the meal.

  ‘Sorry, no dessert, I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Joe?’

  ‘Just, a big monster thing to deal with that I forgot about, sorry.’

  I headed for the exit, eyes straight ahead as a confused Annie called after me.

  8

  Yeah. You don’t have to say anything. I know I messed that up.

  As I approached my flat, moving like I was trudging through treacle, I realised that what I’d experienced was some sort of mild panic attack. Paranoia had crept in and had its wicked way with me. The hurt I was still feeling from what had happened with Chloe had sent me off into some creepy fantasy land.

  Well, that was me and Annie over with anyway. Over with before it had even begun. There was no way a woman like Annie was going to put up with her date turning into a sweaty, unstable mess, and running out on her like a panicked animal.

  Well done, Joseph.

  Well done, Janto the dumb-dumb warlock.

  I tossed my keys on the sideboard as I entered my flat. I could hear the TV was still on.

  ‘Hey, Fox.’

  ‘What?’

  The Fox was gone. In his place, sat Eva, who looked back from the couch, a giant bong between her thighs.

  ‘Jesus, Eva, you scared me.’

  ‘Did you just call me a fox?’

  ‘What? No. I did not.’

  ‘Pretty fucking sure you called me a fox.’

  I peered around, but it seemed like my furry friend had made himself scarce, a scattering of empty crisp packets the only clue to his having been there.

  ‘Lis
ten, I know I’m hot-to-fucking-trot,’ said Eva, ‘but if you call me a fox again I’ll tear off your balls and make you wear them as earrings. Understand, love?’

  ‘One-hundred percent. Absolutely.’

  I flopped on the couch next to her, utterly demoralised.

  ‘Jesus, what’s up with your mush, idiot? Realised what a piece of shit you are again? Yeah, that’s gotta be rough.’

  ‘No. Well, actually, a bit, yeah.’

  Eva huffed at the bong and twirled her hand in my direction, gesturing for me to elaborate.

  ‘Just. Remember Annie?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Sold her soul to a demon.’

  ‘Keep going.’

  ‘Sold her soul to lots and lots of demons.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Eva. ‘Yeah, no, nothing.’

  I sighed and grabbed the bong, taking a huff of my own to try and relax.

  ‘Well, we were on a date and I just messed things up. Properly messed things up. No doubt for good. That’s all.’

  ‘Jesus. You give up easily, eh? You never used to. That was one of the best and, in the end, worst things about you. You skinny fuck.’ Eva, clearly off her nut even by her standards, ruffled my hair and grinned.

  ‘I think the whole Chloe thing may have given me some teensy trust issues.’

  ‘Right. And Chloe is?’

  ‘Okay, now you’re just messing with me.’

  Eva shrugged and grabbed the bong back. ‘I’ve had my own dating fuck ups, you know? Once this girl told me she would meet me at eight and didn’t turn up until ten past. I got so pissed off I turned her into a frog.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. And then I couldn’t work out how to turn her back. A dog ate her. Can’t help blaming myself for that one.’

  Moving right along...

  ‘Annie did nothing wrong and I just got paranoid and had a little breakdown in front of her. Ran out of the place. I’m such an idiot.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘Yeah, I got that.’

  ‘A big idiot.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And a toss-pot. Wanker. Fucking arsehole bastard—’

  ‘I get the idea,’ I said.

  Eva slumped down further, her hooded eyes watching the TV. It was an episode of Quincy. It was always Quincy with her. Or Columbo. Or Diagnosis Murder.

  ‘What is it with you and these detective shows, anyway?’

  ‘You don’t need to talk to me about trust issues, Janto,’ she said.

  It’s fair to say the atmosphere in my flat had dropped a few degrees.

  ‘I used to trust you unthinkingly. Absolutely and completely. With my life. With everyone in the county’s life. You broke that.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘But that wasn’t all you broke.’

  If I didn’t know better, I swear Eva’s eyes were welling up.

  ‘Eva,’ I started, but she leapt to her feet, sending the bong tumbling to the floor and spilling nasty brown water all over my best rug. Well, my only rug.

  ‘Hey, they opened a new vodka place in Workington. Let’s get over there and drink until the world disappears, what d’you say turd-face?’

  ‘Turd-face says okay.’ I stood up. ‘Let’s make morning me hate night me.’

  It was while we were at said vodka bar, as the place was closing around two in the morning and both of us were getting ready to find a convenient alleyway to vomit into, that I got the call from Detective Myers.

  We were needed.

  In no fit state to drive, we collapsed into the back of a taxi and headed over to Hobbes Farm. Detective Maya Myers did not seem at all impressed when we staggered out of the car and swayed over.

  ‘Well isn’t this nice,’ she said, wafting her hand in front of her face. ‘Christ, how much have you two had to drink?’

  ‘All of it, I think,’ I replied.

  ‘Yeah we have!’ said Eva, doing a little dance, almost falling over, then pulling a can from her coat pocket and continuing to drink. I swear she must have some sort of magic coat with black holes in its pockets. No matter where she was, there always seemed to be an infinite number of drinks secreted in the thing.

  ‘This is an official investigation,’ said Myers. ‘This is my job. If you two are fucked, you can get another taxi and get out of here, understand?’

  ‘Understand,’ I said, taking a few mouthfuls of the cold night air and trying to centre myself.

  ‘Don’t worry, Detective,’ said Eva, ‘I’ve never been more focused.’

  ‘I’d be a lot more convinced about that if you weren’t crouched in the dirt, urinating.’

  ‘Don’t look if you don’t like it.’

  After Eva was done, we headed into a stable, set behind the house, to find the latest scene of slaughter. Six horses, dead. Like before, they hadn’t been stabbed, or bludgeoned over the head, they’d been ripped to pieces. It was like their bodies had erupted, exploded.

  ‘There’s no way a normal person is capable of this,’ said Myers.

  ‘No shit,’ replied Eva.

  ‘Are aliens still off the table?’ I said, trying not to gag at the sights and smells contained within the blood-spattered stables.

  ‘It’s some sort of monster, or monsters, right?’ said Myers.

  ‘Right,’ said Eva. ‘Though what for? What’s the point in this?’

  ‘Maybe it’s just a crazy monster without any purpose,’ I suggested. ‘Monsters can probably just snap, too. Can’t they?’

  Myers was breathing a little heavy, her face paler than usual.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

  ‘Fine, I’m fine.’

  She really didn’t look it.

  ‘Do you need to sit down?’

  She waved me off, a little irritated. ‘Migraines or something. They come and go. I’m fine.’

  Deciding it best not to prod any further, I made my way to the nearest horse corpse and crouched, willing the magic inside the barn to flow into me. I placed my hands on what was left of the poor creature, and commanded the magic to show me the horse’s final moments.

  ‘Well?’ asked Myers.

  I grimaced, willing the magic to work, but just like with the sheep, I was getting nothing. Just a tingle of static that prickled my hands, prickled my mind.

  I grunted and gave up.

  ‘Okay, this can’t be a coincidence. I’m getting nothing again.’

  ‘Which means?’ said Myers.

  ‘Which means that something is purposefully hiding itself from us,’ replied Eva, her face set into a grimace. ‘Something that knows what Joseph can do and doesn’t want to be seen.’

  9

  What Eva had said immediately made me think of Annie. Perhaps I wasn’t being so paranoid after all. Was she involved in the animal slaughters somehow? Was she playing me for a fool and using magic to cover her tracks? To make it so that I wouldn’t see her, recognise her, stop her?

  It was all a bit vexing, which is not a word I drop very often.

  The first chance I got, I decided to do something creepy that would get me fired if anyone saw me doing it.

  I went down to the mortuary to touch some dead bodies.

  Now believe me, dead people are not high on my list of fun things to touch. In fact—and I’d like to be crystal clear here—touching dead things doesn’t appear on my “Fun Things to Touch” list at all. Silly putty, I like to touch. Same goes for velvet and, on frequent occasions, myself. But not dead people. You can quote me on that.

  But I had good reason to make this grim room-call. After what had happened at the last two crime scenes, I had to find out if there was a connection between the case and my insight magic not working. Or whether I’d just lost a grip on how to do the thing entirely.

  I ghosted down the corridor, illuminated by the stuttering strip lights I’d been told to replace three days ago and hadn’t got around to. I poked my head around the door jamb to check the way was clear, and was happy to find
the room empty. Empty apart from the corpses anyway. A quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one was heading in this direction, then I slipped into the mortuary and darted over to the cadaver drawers. I opened one at waist height and dragged out the body-laden trolley that lurked within.

  I ran back to the entrance and poked my head out—no sign of anyone—then back I went to the trolley and the full body bag that lay on top. A deep breath or two, then I pulled down the zipper to reveal the corpse within. It was a man; bloated, bald, and the colour of spoiled milk. His toe tag would reveal his identity, but I had no wish to be on first name terms with the poor sod.

  I closed my eyes and willed the magic in the room to swarm me. To wash over me, into me, to soak into my very bones. I sensed it respond to my command, felt the warmth of it as it became part of me. It was intoxicating. The more I did it, the more adept I became at controlling the magic around me, the more of a high I seemed to get off it. My pleasure receptors tingled, my senses sharpened, my certainty of my control over it grew stronger.

  ‘Show me,’ I said quietly, and then I placed my palms on the cold flesh of the dead man’s shoulder.

  It happened instantly.

  I wasn’t me anymore.

  I was inside this man looking out.

  His final moments had become my virtual reality; a virtual reality I had no control over. I was along for the ride, for the experience. No matter how much I wanted to, no matter how much I struggled against what I was seeing, I had no way of controlling things. This was a recording of a man’s final minutes. I was seeing the past, that’s all, and you can’t alter the past, no matter how much you might like to.

  And believe me, knowing my past, if I could, I really, definitely would.

  The view seemed to flare suddenly, bright lights blooming, crowding my vision. I fell to one side, then before I knew it, I was on the floor, reaching a hand to my chest, to my arm, as the colour drained from what I was seeing, static crowding in around the edges as the picture dilated down, down, down.

  I jerked back, pulling my hands away from the man.

  A heart attack. I’d just experienced his last seconds alive, as his heart betrayed him and sputtered to a stop.