by M. V. Stott
‘Tell me why I murdered the two witches,’ I said.
‘Take your throne,’ she said, gesturing to the uncomfortable skull chair, ‘and I will tell you the whole story. I promise.’
The way she smiled as she gestured at the skull chair made me very sure that taking up its seat would be a not very nice thing.
‘No thanks, need to stretch my legs.’
‘Such little trust.’
‘To be fair, you are keen on me becoming some sort of fifteen-foot, fire coated monster.’
The Red Woman sat on the throne herself, and slowly crossed her leather-clad legs.
‘Okay. Here is a little truth. The other witches, do you know their names?’
‘No. Eva clams up when I ask about them.’
‘Lyna and Melodia. Their names were Lyna and Melodia.’
Was that the truth? It felt like it was. Like, as soon as I heard them, I knew. I knew that those were their names. Of course those were their names. Lyna and Melodia. My fellow witches. My equals.
And I’d murdered them.
I almost staggered back onto the grass as picture exploded in my mind’s eye. Two women, both looking to be in their thirties, but I knew they were much older. And they were laughing. And I was laughing too.
‘What’s this?’ said Eva, holding a glass and grimacing from whatever she’d just tasted.
‘That’s beer,’ said one of the witches, the one with blonde corkscrew hair.
‘Beer? Well, I don’t think I’ll be drinking that again.’
And then it was gone. A fragment of ice, bobbing up above the ocean surface for a brief moment before its weight carried it under again.
‘I remembered them! Just for a second, I remembered them! And, wow, Eva has really changed.’
‘I can tell you more,’ said the Red Woman, I can show you more. Just take your throne.’
She stood and stepped aside, and the throne called to me. Not audibly, but I felt its pull. Like it was a big ol’ magnet made of gross skulls and I was a hunk of metal. I wanted to know more. I’d had a fresh taste and now my stomach grumbled for more.
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Look at what you have become, Magic Eater. Look how your own mind deceives you; keeps the real you under lock and key.’
‘Maybe that’s the best place for the old me.’
‘If only you could remember your true self. Your wants. Your desires. The things you and I did together…’
And then her ice cold hand was on my temple and—
I am a giant.
Flames burn fiercely across my skin.
All around me I see the magic of this world. Of every world.
I am striding through an ocean of power, waves of every colour wash around me, and I open myself up to it, swallow it, absorb it through every pore, more and more and more and nothing can stop me.
The Uncanny rage against me, but they are like flies raging at a mountain.
My army of the dead awaits me. Awaits my command.
And she waits too.
The Red Woman.
We are as one.
Together.
Beast and master,
Lovers two.
And the world shall fall and scream before us, and we shall show it no pity.
No pity.
None.
—as soon as it started, it was over. I found myself gasping for air, curled in a foetal position on the blood red grass.
‘It is what you want,’ said the Red Woman, standing by the throne, ‘what you must become. You have no choice. Not in the end. You’ll see.’
I pushed myself groggily to my feet.
‘I don’t care what the old me was up to. If that’s sort of thing that tickles his fancy, he sounds like a right bastard. I’ve got no interest in all that, thank you very much. No offence, scary woman, but I’m not the murdering kind.
‘What about poor Chloe Palmer?’
That stung more than a little.
‘That was… different.’
‘If you think fulfilling your destiny just means murder, you couldn’t be more wrong.’
‘Yeah, but not too far wrong I’m guessing. Just one house over, yes?’
The Red Woman smiled, then actually chuckled.
‘If you don’t mind, I’d quite like to go home. Where the sky isn’t on fire and I’m not wading through bloodied grass.’
She approached. ‘Then go.’
‘Good. Thank you. You have very nice hair.’
‘But know this: you will become the Magic Eater. It is your destiny. You can no more run from it than you can crush a diamond in your fist. You are only delaying the inevitable.’
I went to answer, but then the world around me turned black.
5
It was past midnight by the time I finally reached home and flopped, exhausted, onto my couch.
As usual, I had no idea how I’d returned from the Dark Lakes; everything had gone black, and then I was in my car, a mile from home. Going to that place was never a picnic, but each time I went there I felt like I was getting more of the puzzle pieces. Each time I spoke with the Red Woman, she gave me more of me than I had. More of me than Eva wanted to share, anyway.
Lyna and Melodia.
I knew their names now. I even knew what they looked like. Well, to a degree. My mind had already scrubbed out most of the memory that had bubbled up, but I’d held onto some of it. One of them had a mass of blonde, curly hair, wide, blue eyes and a huge smile. The other had straight, black hair, brown eyes, and dimples in her cheeks.
Lyna and Melodia. We’d made a trio. Three witches to look after this area of Cumbria. Magic police.
And I’d killed them.
I didn’t know what had happened there, not exactly, but I wasn’t stupid. Okay, that might be a stretch, but I’m not completely stupid. It had to have something to do with my so-called “destiny”. The Magic Eater stuff the Red Woman was trying to shove my way.
It was more than a teensy bit frustrating to only have these scraps and not know, for sure, the whole picture. But compared to what I’d known just a week ago, I’d made a giant leap forward.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I fished it out with a grunt of weary effort. Detective Maya Myers name flashed across the screen. I hit answer.
‘Detective, if this is one of those booty calls I hear about in movies, just know that I am far too tired.’
‘Hilarious,’ replied Maya. ‘A family’s just been murdered.’
Which rather took the fun out of things.
It was almost one a.m. by the time I reached the scene of the crime. It was a small cottage in Applethwaite, a tiny village about a mile or so from my front door. Maya was waiting for me outside, and did not return my rather-too-jaunty greeting wave.
‘Sorry, probably not appropriate for a murder scene,’ I said.
‘Definitely not.’
There was an ambulance outside, with a couple of bored looking medics sat in the back drinking tea. Several police cars parked up as officers in white boiler suits exited the cottage. When I say “cottage”, picture a real chocolate box of a thing. You’ve got it. Cob walls, thatched roof, the whole shebang.
‘Done?’ Maya asked the departing forensic team.
‘Yeah,’ replied one of the boilersuit peeps, ‘got a bunch of lovely pics, all thanks to this fab new lens. Fancy a look?’
‘Not interested,’ replied Maya.
The man nodded disappointedly and trudged away.
‘You really have a lovely way with people, Maya,’ I said, grinning.
‘This is my crime scene. Do we understand one another?’
‘Understood,’ I replied, throwing in a little salute.
‘People have died within those walls, and it’s my job to find whoever did it and make them pay.’
Now, if it appears that I’m being flippant here, know two things: One, I can’t help it, I’m an idiot. And two, I was more than a little uncomfortable. I was
being asked to tour a crime scene. A place where people had recently been murdered and where, in fact, their corpses still remained. This was not my natural habitat. True, I had stumbled through a few murders recently, but this was different. This was being asked to help out on a professional basis.
I was, to put it mildly, pooping my pants. Over the idea of looking at more dead people, and over the idea that I was then expected to assist in some way to make sure that whoever—or whatever—was behind those deaths was brought to justice. It sounded like a tall order. I clean toilets for a living. This was a lot of pressure for my slender shoulders.
So, jokes, and daftness, and distractions.
‘I’m guessing there’s something a little off about this murder if you’re dragging my arse over here,’ I said.
Maya nodded. ‘Oh, this is one for us, alright. Come on.’
I shivered as I stepped over the threshold.
‘Brr, what is that?’
‘What is what?’ replied Maya.
‘You don’t feel that?’
‘The fact I’m asking would suggest I don’t.’
‘You make a good point.’
Maya gestured in a get-the-fuck-on-with-it sort of a way.
‘I don’t know, it’s just, sort of… weird.’
‘Well, that’s really helpful, I’m so glad I called you.’
Maya carried on through the cottage and I followed. I’d like to have put what I was experiencing more eloquently, but “weird” just about says it all. It was as though as soon as I stepped into the cottage, I could tell something not exactly normal had happened there. Like whatever had intruded and committed the murders had left something of its weirdness behind. An imprint on the air around us.
Or something.
I don’t know, I hadn’t slept properly in a long time.
‘He’s right, definitely a weird feeling up in this place,’ came a voice from behind me. I turned to see Eva laid out on the floor, cigarette in her mouth and eyes closed.
‘Hey, how did you get here?’
‘I called her, like I called you,’ replied Maya. ‘Using a phone. Mystery solved. Wow, I am a good detective.’
‘She has your phone number?’ I said to Eva, incredulously. ‘I didn’t even know you had a phone!’
‘Of course I have a phone, I’m not Captain fucking Caveman.’
Eva opened her eyes and pushed herself vertical, briefly staggering to one side before getting to grips with the idea of walking again.
‘Why don’t I have your number,’ I asked.
‘I only give my number to friends, you don’t want just anyone bothering you, know what I mean?’
‘Well, that has to sting,’ said Maya.
‘What? Nope. Completely unstung.’
It definitely stung a teensy bit.
‘Is this crime scene catered?’ asked Eva. ‘Only I could murder a bacon buttie. Haven’t had anything solid pass my lips in hours.’
‘No. Because It’s a crime scene,’ Maya replied, ‘not a children’s party.’
‘Ah, so no pass the parcel either?’
‘No.’
‘I see. Makes sense. Make a note of that for future, though.’
‘I will not.’
‘Okay,’ said Eva, rubbing her hands together and striding forward, ‘let’s see the bodies.’
‘And you think I’m annoying,’ I said to Maya, with a grin.
‘Yes. I do.’
‘Right.’
Maya walked into the next room after Eva, with me at her heels. The room had patio doors that lead to the back garden. The doors were destroyed, like a wrecking ball had smashed into them from outside, smothering the room in shards of wood and glass. Eva was crouched on the floor by something that used to be alive. Used to be a person. Now it resembled a large chunk of cured meat.
‘Well isn’t this something?’ said Eva.
The body was completely mummified. Lips pulled back in a final grimace, cheeks hollow.
‘How long since they were killed?’ I asked.
‘A few hours at best,’ replied Maya.
‘A few hours? But… well, look at them.’
Maya nodded. ‘Exactly. That is one Mr. Mark Watterson. He was forty-two years of age, married, and a father. The wife and child are upstairs.’
‘Is the mummy a mummy too?’ asked Eva.
‘Yes,’ replied Maya, ‘and the kid. Dead and dried out, like they’ve been left out in the desert for months.’
Eva ran a finger across the dessicated corpse, then stuck it in her mouth.
‘That seems inappropriate,’ said Maya.
‘Yeah,’ replied Eva, ‘tastes like shit, too.’
‘How do you know they haven’t been dead for ages?’ I asked.
‘Because they were at their neighbours only a few hours ago, and they were very much alive at the time.’
‘So, some sort of vampire again?’ I asked.
‘No,’ replied Eva, ‘this was something else. Show me the others.’
Upstairs, huddled together in what must have been the parents’ bedroom, were what remained of the wife and daughter. Two strips of people jerky, clinging to each other in one corner of the room. I won’t deny that I felt my stomach churn as I looked at them. Especially at the smaller of the two withered bodies.
I felt like I could see the mother trying to shield her child. To at least let the kid live. But it hadn’t worked. What sort of a monster would kill a child?
‘Something is wrong,’ said Eva, pacing the room and waving her hands around, like she was conducting an invisible orchestra.
‘Three people are dead,’ I replied, ‘so I’d say there’s quite a lot wrong, yes.’
‘Hm? What? No, not the dead people, the dead people are obvious, they’re dead, you can see them. No, something else… aha!’
‘What is it?’ asked Maya.
Eva grinned, then clapped her hands together. The far wall seemed to ripple, then it was whipped away like a tablecloth, to reveal a hidden room. Inside of the room was a cauldron, magical texts, robes, and pentagrams chalked on slate. Basically a full-on, secret magic room.
Someone had murdered a family of magicians.
6
I stepped into the secret room, happy to leave behind the dead mother and child.
‘Were they witches then?’ I asked. ‘Like me?’
‘Nah,’ replied Eva. ‘Things like you aren’t just spread around willy-nilly. Plus, I’d know if there were any in my own backyard. These are just low-level magicians. By the look of this set-up, they’ve been trying to fly under the radar.’
‘Well,’ said Maya, ‘it looks as though they didn’t fly low enough.’
‘Oh,’ I replied, ‘you’re saying they were murdered because they were magical?’
Eva sighed. ‘Not the sharpest, are you, idiot?’
‘Wait a minute, how did you not realise they were magic right away? I thought you were able to sense that, or something?’
‘I didn’t clock that they had anything about them that was magical straight away ‘cos that Uncanny spark has been drained almost entirely out of them. They’re practically normals now!’ Eva shuddered and made a “yuck” face.
‘No offence taken,’ replied Maya.
‘Oh! I think I’ve got it,’ I replied.
‘Go on,’ said Eva.
‘Someone or something is feasting on magic? On magical people for… reasons to be determined.’
‘Obviously. I basically just said that.’
‘No you didn’t.’
‘Oh. Well. I said it in my head. Same thing.’
‘It’s really not.’
‘So, something is feeding on the Uncanny spark of magic people,’ said Eva. ‘I wonder what. And also why. And also what.’
Maya pulled out her notepad. ‘These aren’t the first bodies to fit this M.O. In the months before I met you two, there were six other cases across the county. Forced entry—really forced entry—and dried out bodies
. We’ve been keeping the weirder details out of circulation because, well, they’re weird.’
Maya handed the pad to Eva, who scanned the details.
‘Okay, at least two of these are Uncanny types of one kind or another. Melinda Smith was a gnome.’
‘Well that explains why she was so small,’ said Maya. ‘And was clutching a fishing rod.’
I laughed, then felt bad. Because of the murdered thing.
‘Another one here, Bob. Big Bob. Troll. Hard bastards to kill, trolls, but some bugger’s managed it.’
‘What about the other four?’ I asked.
‘Don’t know ‘em, but it’s safe to assume they were some flavour of Uncanny.’
Maya took back her pad and pocketed it. ‘The pattern’s clear enough. And the attacks seem to be increasing in frequency. The first few were months apart, the last three have happened in the last week alone.’
‘Someone’s either getting bolder, or stronger,’ said Eva.
‘And they’re targetting weird-arse things like you two.’
‘Right,’ I said, ‘which means we’re probably in, sort of, danger.’
‘Yeah,’ replied Eva, ‘gives life an extra spice when you feel the shadow of the noose, don’t you think?’
‘I prefer not living in constant fear, but different folks and all that,’ I replied.
I noticed that Maya seemed to be looking at me expectantly.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘Well, go on then. Do the thing.’
‘What thing?’
‘Like you did with the soul vampire. You were able to touch the body and get a picture from it. Why don’t you do that again and tell me what we’re looking at here?’
Ah, right, that. One of the magical power thingies that I’d managed to tune into recently was gaining insight into a recently deceased person—or monster’s—life. Or, to put it more specifically, their life very close to the point of their death.
Problem was, it did mean touching dead things.
‘Okay, who’s it gonna be then?’ asked Eva. ‘Little or large?’
I wasn’t too keen on touching a dead child, so mother it would be.
