by M. V. Stott
‘Yep. Hence the eagle attack and my seeking out your help. I stopped going down into that well years ago once I realised what I’d done, what I was talking to down there.’
‘So why are they only coming after you now?’
‘I think it’s because I almost died eight months ago. That’s my only guess. I was in a crash and bashed my head. The doctor’s said I was technically dead for a few minutes.’
Oh, I thought I knew what happened next. ‘So a bunch of demons you promised yourself to were lining up to claim what you’d promised, and noticed the waiting room was a touch on the crowded side.’
Annie nodded, ‘That’s what I’m assuming.’
‘So they’re not waiting for you to die to claim your soul. They’re rushing to be the one who kills you so they can have you for themselves.’
‘Yep.’
‘Wow. They’re going about it in a very odd way, why not just, I don’t know, hover over you whilst you’re asleep and shoot a demon bullet out of a demon gun directly into your non-demon brain?’
‘I think, technically, I’m supposed to die normally before they claim what they’re owed. But because so many are owed it, and they don’t want a big fight when I finally do die, they’re each trying to off me, in a subtle way. A not-obviously at their hand way. They’re cheating basically.’
‘Yes, well, a vast army of talking eagles attacking a moving vehicle in the north of England, what could be more subtle? If this is really all true, and you’re not just some insane person who pissed off a lot of eagles, then you are in one ginormous amount of trouble.’
‘Thanks, yeah, I know,’ replied Annie, indicating her current in hospital, covered in wounds circumstances. ‘So, will you help me or not?’
I finished the last of my terrible vending machine coffee.
‘I’ll help,’ I replied. Well of course I did. Shame I had absolutely no idea how.
12
The Uncanny Wagon wasn’t looking its best.
To be fair, even on a good day it looked like I’d stolen the thing from a scrap yard, but tonight, under the glow of the moon in the hospital car park, my poor baby looked an absolute state. Three of its windows had holes in them, feathers were plastered to the bonnet with eagle blood, and the bodywork was peppered with dents from all of the kamikaze impacts.
‘My poor baby,’ I said, gently patting the roof. ‘You’ll be okay, don’t worry, I’ll nurse you back to health.’
The thing rattled and complained the whole drive home, and as I pulled up outside my flat, I thanked the lord that I hadn’t passed any police cars on the way. I’m sure they’d have had a thing or two to say about the roadworthiness of my vehicle.
At this point, I really should have collapsed into bed. I was exhausted, my body heavy, brain frazzled, but instead of grabbing some shut-eye, I flipped open my laptop. There was a new message waiting for me on my ‘Who Am I?’ website.
A new message from Chloe.
‘Help me, Joe. Help me.’
I sat up, suddenly very awake.
‘Where are you?’ I hit reply.
She wouldn’t answer, I knew that. She wasn’t there, waiting with baited breath for my response. She wasn’t anywhere. This was just some idiot kid mucking me about. Had to be.
My heart thumped like a jack-rabbit as my laptop pinged and a reply landed.
‘I think I’m where you left me. I’m scared. I’m waiting for you. Please help.’
I put the laptop down and paced the room for a few minutes. This was absurd. It couldn’t really be her, could it? Eva said as much. Chloe was dead.
But what if it was her? Somehow. People were selling their souls, and foxes could talk, so why couldn’t Chloe have survived?
‘I’m on my way.’ I hit send, grabbed my coat, and headed out the door.
I think I’m where you left me.
That’s what Chloe had replied. So there I was. The road where a giant octopus arm had erupted, grabbed Eva, and dragged her down to where the soul vampires, and Chloe, had made their home.
There was no evidence of that now. No hole to prove that what had happened had actually happened. Eva said she’d cleaned things up afterwards. The last thing you want in this line of work, she’d said, was for some “normal” to stumble across a loose end that lead them into a heap of trouble. Only Eva had said “fuck-load of trouble”, not “heap”.
The battered driver’s side door of my car closed on the third attempt. I looked around, nervous, and pulled my coat closed for comfort. This was probably a very daft idea. How did I know I wasn’t walking into a trap? I had no idea who’d want to spring a trap on me, or why, but that didn’t mean the possibility wasn’t there.
I should have brought Eva with me.
Then again, if I had, and it turned out Chloe really was waiting for me, I had the distinct impression that Eva would have applied a throw fireballs first, ask questions later policy to the situation.
Plus, Chloe wasn’t going to be here, so Eva would only have gotten pissed off at me and hit me with a stick again. And I am no fan of being hit with sticks.
‘Chloe? Chloe, it’s me, it’s Joe, I’m here.’
I felt silly even saying the words, but sometimes hope makes us do silly things.
The moon was high and the stars were out. That’s something I love about living up here, away from the cities, in the far north of England. The Lake District is free of the blight of light pollution that smothers the majesty of the night sky. Out here, the stars come out in force every night.
‘Chloe? Where are you?’
I reached the spot where, more or less, the octopus arm had appeared from. I crouched and ran my fingers across the dirt.
‘Chloe?’
The only response I got was the hoot of a distant owl.
No one spoke, no one replied, no one appeared.
I waited for another half an hour, like an idiot, then got back in the Uncanny Wagon and drove home, trying to decide if I was heartbroken or furious.
By the time I’d reached home, I’d settled on furious.
Some bastard was playing a malicious trick on me, that’s all there was to it. Had to be. That, coupled with sleep deprivation, was giving me hope where there was none.
I grabbed my laptop and fired it up, ready to reply—none too pleasantly— to the little shit leaving messages on my site. It was just then that a heavy thud-thud came from my front door.
I closed the laptop and put it aside, looking to the door in confusion. I checked my phone; it was almost three in the morning. Who could possibly be making a housecall at this ungodly hour?
Thud-Thud-Thud.
Whoever they were, they were heavy-handed.
‘Who is it? It’s late, you know!’
Thud-Thud-Thud.
Eva, perhaps? That must be it. Probably drunk out of her mind and this was the closest place to crash.
‘Eva? Is that you out there?’
Thud-Thud-Thud.
‘Eva, if that is you, then please call me an idiot and I’ll let you in.’
Thud-Thud-Thud.
I’d never known her to be reticent to speak before. Or slow to grasp an opportunity to call me names. Or, for that matter, to wait for me to let her in. My home, my car, Eva seemed to have a poor grasp of ownership laws, or personal space.
Thud-Thud-Thud.
At that point I wasn’t sure if it was the door or my heart beating in my ears.
I moved quietly over to the door and placed my eye against the peep hole.
‘Oh,’ I said, when I saw what it was that had dropped round for a visit. ‘Oh shit.’
This was somewhat of an understatement.
Stood at my door, was a stone. A stone taller than me, with ancient words and pictures etched into its surface.
And then it moved.
I staggered back with a startled yelp as I saw it—quite impossibly—glide back a few feet, and then hurtle forward. Apparently, the stone was done knocking politely,
and was now employing a more forthright approach.
Crash.
The door flew open as the lock shattered.
‘I’m… not in…?’ I said.
The fact that I was both standing before the stone and talking to it, may have clued it into the fact that I wasn’t being entirely truthful.
Turning slightly to gain access to my home, the stone then bolted forward, the top of it scraping along the uppermost part of the door frame, sending splinters flying.
I half-walked, half-fell backwards until my spine was up against the wall.
‘Stop! Stop right there, or…’ I rather feebly raised both fists and shook them.
The stone was terrified by my fearsome display.
Probably.
Shut up.
Now, there were two paths out of this situation, the way I saw it. The window to my right, which I would need to hop over the couch to get to, or the front door, currently behind the giant moving stone. There was a door leading to a bathroom, but the bathroom had no window, and the flat lacked a back door. It was basically two small rooms with one entry and exit point.
Oh, I suppose there was a third option, but that was death. I thought I’d leave that option to last.
The stone edged forward.
‘Wait! Wait a second, please. You’ve got the wrong person! You like magic people, but that’s not me. My name is… Jimmy. Jimmy Jimson? Jimmy Jimson.’
Hey, I never claimed to work well under pressure.
‘I’m just staying here, for a bit. Joseph is out doing stuff. Drinking. Or dancing. Something. And I’m here, being non-magical and very ordinary and my name is Jimmy Jimson.’
Purple energy rippled across the surface of the stone, then arced out towards me. I leapt to the side, the energy just missing me as it struck the wall. I landed heavily, scrabbling to right myself again.
I turned, ready, to make a run for the window, only for the stone to lunge forward.
‘No!’
I raised my hands defensively, and they pressed against the killer stone as it came to a halt before me.
And then a strange thing happened, I felt as though I heard a voice. The voice of the stone. And it said one thing: Elga and her Kin.
The energy the stone was emitting coiled around me, grasping me tight. My mouth opened wide in a soundless scream as I felt myself being drained. Fed on. It was killing me. Taking my magic, and anything else I had.
I was going to die.
Death by hungry stone.
It’s not exactly how I’d pictured ending my days, but it would make for a hell of an obit.
I tried to picture the world as Eva had revealed it to me again. Tried to see the magic she showed me that was all around me. If I could see it, maybe I could access it again. Maybe I could use it to free myself and escape.
But I couldn’t see anything and the room was turning to static.
Actually, that’s not quite true, I did see one thing. Or thought I did. A small furry shape in the corner of the room, an axe gripped in its paws. Its mouth moved and it said things, but I couldn’t hear the words. Didn’t need to. I knew what it was saying.
All hail the saviour.
I was a colossus. I was draped in fire and hundreds died beneath my feet.
I was no warlock.
Nothing so small. So weak. So wretched that could be killed by an enchanted standing stone. I was the killer. I was who others shrank from. Died for.
All hail the saviour.
Magic Eater.
Magic Eater.
Magic Eater.
I could hear the Red Woman’s voice in my ear.
Before I even realised I was doing it, I was standing up. The stone tried to fight back, I could feel it. Feel it intensifying its attack, trying to drain me of my strength. My magic.
‘You cannot hurt me. Cannot kill me.’
‘Magic Eater,’ said the fox, bowing on one knee as it faded from view.
I saw the world as it was once again. Saw the magic that we swam in every day. I fed upon it and felt myself grow, felt the flames begin to lick across my skin.
‘No! No!’
I pushed out, and the stone flew away from me, its grip broken.
‘Stop this!’
The flames on my skin died and I ran for the door, for the car, and I got the hell out of there.
13
Dawn was breaking by the time I returned to my flat with Eva and Maya in tow.
‘Any sign of the stone?’ I asked, nervously, staying back with Maya as Eva poked her head into my flat, the door of which was hanging off its hinges.
‘Nope. Doesn’t look like anyone stole anything either. People are far too nice around here.’
‘Yes,’ replied Maya, ‘I too wish we lived in a place full of rampant burglary.’
Detective Maya Myers delivers sarcasm like a boss.
‘Come in then!’ Eva said from inside.
There was ample evidence of the struggle inside. Scorch marks on the wall, the floorboards all scraped up, the plaster cracked from where the front door had burst open and the handle had struck home.
Could’ve been worse though.
I could be a dried out, withered corpse on the floor.
‘So,’ said Maya, ‘definitely killer standing stones then?’
‘Definitely,’ I replied.
‘Well, great. That’s great.’
‘At least there won’t be any long, boring speeches when we track the fuckers down,’ said Eva, helping herself to a beer from my fridge, ‘always hate those things. Give me a mute, killer stone any day of the year.’ She flicked the top off and took a swig, before belching with such ferocity that a piece of broken plaster from above the door dislodged and crashed to the floor.
‘Thanks, Eva. That’s great.’
‘So, any clues as to where the thing is?’ asked Maya.
‘Well, it’s funny you said that Eva, about being mute, because I don’t think they are.’
‘Aw, and just as I was starting to like them.’
‘When I touched it, touched the stone, I heard it say something.’
‘What?’ asked Maya.
‘It said, “Elga and her Kin”. Just that.’
‘Elga and her Kin?’ repeated Maya.
‘Yeah, does that mean anything to you Eva?’
‘Uh. Yup. That definitely means something. Good work.’
I looked at Eva, then at Maya, then back again. ‘You don’t know what it means, do you?’
‘Not exactly. Not entirely. Sounds familiar though. Familiar to a familiar,’ she laughed and took another swig. ‘Look, I can’t be expected to know every little detail of every little thing. Plus there was the whole, you know, incident, that fucked up my head a bit, just like it did yours.’
‘What incident?’ asked Maya.
‘Oh, forgot you were there,’ said Eva, ‘forget I said anything.’
Okay, that was interesting. Apparently, the thing I did didn’t just mess me up, Eva had caught some of the flack, too.
‘Elga and her Kin, eh?’ said Eva. ‘I’ll have a look in the library, back at the coven. Probably something in one of those big bastard books. Bound to be. Sounds just the sort of boring, ancient thing that’d be in one of them.’
Eva grabbed another two bottles of beer, saluted, then headed for the door.
‘Wait. Wait a second!’ I cried.
‘What, love? D’you want a bedtime story, too? Tucking into bed before I go? Cup of warm milk?’
‘What if that thing comes back? Am I safe?’
‘No one is ever safe, idiot.’
‘Well, that’s comforting,’ replied Maya.
‘Don’t piss your pants, I wasn’t just standing around drinking beer the last few minutes. I also laid down a few protection spells on the place. Multi-tasking like a mother fucker. Probably should have done it a lot earlier, come to think of it.’
‘Oh, you think so?’ I said, gesturing at the sorry condition of my flat.
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br /> ‘Nobody’s perfect, idiot. You should know that. You did murder the other coven witches.’
And with that, she left.
‘What was that about murder?’ asked Maya.
‘She means, uh, metaphorically speaking.’
There was a rather uncomfortable second or two after that, I can tell you.
I managed to squeeze in almost ninety minutes of solid sleep before my alarm screamed in my ear and I had to drag my body out of bed.
I’d told Annie I’d pick her up the morning she was discharged. Of course, when I’d made that promise, I hadn’t realised I’d be kept up all night by a home-invading henge.
I drank some disgustingly strong coffee, grabbed a slice of white bread to eat on the way, then left, locking the door Maya had helped me fix. I say “helped”, but my role was largely supervisory, by which I mean I had no idea what to do, so stood by and watched as Maya did everything.
Eighty minutes later and I was helping Annie into the Uncanny Wagon.
‘Oh my god, the state of your car.’
‘It has seen better days, true.’
‘It stinks of bird poo.’
She was not wrong. I got in and we drove out of Carlisle, towards her old family home.
‘How are you feeling now?’ I asked. ‘How’s the head?’
‘Okay. Throbs a bit, but they gave me some killer pain meds.’
I whistled appreciatively. ‘Must be nice.’
Annie smiled. It was actually quite a nice smile. If I hadn’t been grieving for Chloe, I might even have fallen madly in love with that smile. Or at least madly in unrequited lust.
‘The farmhouse, who lives there now?’
‘Oh, nobody. My parents are dead, so it was left to me.’
‘Right. Sorry. Dead parents. Rough.’
‘Yeah. Partially my fault. I went down the well and wished they were dead.’
I looked at her at least three or four times in silence before I was able to scramble my thoughts back together again to speak.
‘I’m… sorry…?’
‘Joke.’
‘Oh. Right. Edgy material. I get it.’
‘It was a year ago. Car crash. I actually thought about going down the well to try and bargain for their lives. I hadn’t been down to ask for anything in years and years. But I didn’t. Was that selfish of me?’
