by M. V. Stott
‘Told you the shut-in was coming,’ Steve told the rest.
‘Close thing though,’ said Ben, ‘Alan collared me on the way out, wanting to talk about the moon and space.’
‘Oh, Jesus,’ said Carly, grimacing, ‘I got trapped for twenty minutes with him once, talking about the best way to run a salmon farm.’
‘Probably because you smell like fish, love,’ replied Steve, who got an elbow in the ribs for his troubles.
Ben had only meant to stay for the one, but as the first whiskey chaser slipped down, he felt himself relax. Almost two hours and several more rounds darted by after that. It was fair to say that Ben Turner was, by now, a little drunk. He needed this. If he’d gone home alone again he’d only have ended up thinking about Sally all night. He was thinking about her now of course, but this was different. Now she was in the back of his thoughts, while he was out and about, being sociable. This counted as a step in the right direction.
He wondered if he should text her. Just a quick ‘How’s things?’ He even reached into his pocket and touched his phone, before he realised how stupid an idea that was.
It was done.
Long, long, long since done. She was with that other person now. That man whose name he’d tried not to remember. He’d seen the pictures on her Facebook. Arms around each other, smiling. He almost envied her. Here he was, still glum and boo-hoo, whilst she was out there living her life.
‘One for the road?’ said Steve, snapping Ben out of his introspection.
‘Hm?’ Ben looked up to see he was now only sharing the table with Steve. ‘Where’d everyone else get to?’
Steve laughed, almost falling off his stool. ‘Christ, you’re wasted, mate.’
Ben realised he really, really was. His head was going to feel like someone had stomped on it in the morning.
‘One more?’ asked Steve.
‘Nah. No. Thanks. I’m done.’
‘Suit yourself, I’m going to piss off then.’
‘Yeah, I’ll see you. I’m just gonna, you know, use the Men’s.’
‘It was good you came out, Benny. That cow was too good for you.’
‘Don’t you mean “I was too good for her”?’
‘No mate, she was a proper ten out of ten. You’re a six at best.’ Steve laughed and swayed towards the exit. ‘See you in the morning, Benny Boy!’
Ben smiled and waved, then pushed himself on to his feet, bracing himself against the wall for a moment as the room turned wobbly. It was after relieving himself in the Men’s room and returning to the bar, ready to weave his inebriated way home, that he collided with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
‘Shit, shit, sorry. My fault. You okay?’
The woman smiled back at him and Ben felt his stomach explode with butterflies.
‘Don’t worry, I’m fine,’ she replied, with an accent he couldn’t quite place, though it sounded a little Eastern European.
Ben wanted to reply, but found his mouth flapping soundlessly as he took in the woman before him. Her thick, black hair shone, her blue eyes seemed to sparkle, her smile wide and inviting.
‘Ben!’ he said, much, much too loud.
‘Hello, Ben, I’m Magda.’
She held out a hand, which Ben stared at for far too long. It was pale, with long, delicate fingers.
‘So, are you going to shake it, or…?’
‘Yes! Right, shaking it,’ he took her hand in his and shook. Her hand was warm, his was sweaty. ‘Nice to bump into you.’
Magda laughed, it took Ben a few seconds to realise he’d inadvertently made a joke.
‘Are you leaving?’ she asked.
Ben eyed the door, then looked into Magda’s amazing eyes again.
‘Uh. Yes. No. Well, I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘I mean, I do know. What are you going to do?’
‘I thought I might get a drink before heading home. Would you like to join me? I hate drinking alone.’
Ben accepted and bought her a drink, not realising that this was the longest he’d gone without thinking about Sally since she dumped him.
After their drink, and another couple after that, Ben offered to walk Magda home. He’d been drunk as a skunk before meeting Magda, but now, even after a few more drinks, he felt focussed. Clear. Happy. Without noticing how or when it happened, Ben realised, as they took a midnight stroll along Blackpool beach, that Magda was holding his hand.
Christ, he was happy Steve had talked him into going to that pub.
The happiness wouldn’t last much longer.
‘This is crazy,’ he said.
‘What is?’ replied Magda, smiling at him.
‘I’ve never connected this quickly to anyone in my whole entire life. Definitely not a woman.’
‘We’re connected?’
‘Yeah! Well… shit. Sorry. That’s a bit much, isn’t it? Ignore me, I’m drunk. I’m a drunk idiot.’
Magda stopped walking and Ben worried he’d already blown it. It was only when she leaned forward and pressed her full lips against his that he realised he hadn’t.
‘Where are you from?’ he asked, breathlessly, when she finally pulled her mouth away from his.
‘Oh, all over the place. But I’m from here for now.’
Ben Turner had never felt so lucky. If he hadn’t gone to the pub. If he hadn’t gone to the toilet before leaving the pub. If Sally hadn’t have dumped him all those months ago. Fate was a crazy thing.
‘When can I see you again?’ he asked.
‘Oh, very soon.’ she replied, and Ben noticed that her eyes had changed colour.
‘Hey, how did…?’
‘What?’
Her eyes weren’t blue anymore. They were yellow. Which nobody’s eyes were.
‘You will be part of my family now,’ said Magda.
‘Your teeth…’ said Ben. They’d changed, just like her eyes. They were longer now, sharper, more like a animal’s than a person’s.
Magda leaned in again, but not for a kiss this time. This time she sunk those strange new teeth into Ben’s neck. He screamed and pushed away, falling back into the sand, a hand to the gushing wound on the side of his neck. He looked up to see Magda smiling above him, serene, her teeth dripping with his blood.
‘Listen to the full moon, Ben,’ she said, looking up at the night sky. ‘Soon every night will be a full moon and we shall run free, beautiful, wild.’
She tipped her head back and howled at the sky as the world slipped away for poor Ben Turner, and the black rushed in from all sides to take him.
11
It seemed that the case of the dead wizard was going to be something of a solo investigation for Detective Rita Hobbes. That was okay though. She had years of experience under her belt already, not to mention a magic axe, and some first-hand experience of the Uncanny waters she was wading through.
It was morning, and Rita was hitting the street, looking for leads. The previous day she’d gone through the hospital’s records for any additional info, and hung around listening to the morgue staff to see if any of them knew anything extra that wasn’t in the system. The investigation had come up frustratingly short though.
The nightmare-inducing corpse had no ID on him, and his face was too mashed up to get any dental records from, so as far as the hospital was concerned, the wizard was a John Doe.
After wasting hours at the hospital, Rita headed to Blackpool Central Police Station, her old place of work, and went through a similar process as she had at the hospital. Annoyingly, she learned nothing new. Nobody had any idea who the wizard was or what could have done that to him, and no missing person had been reported. Rita was looking at a big fat zero. All in all, a frustrating first day on the case, but she wasn’t out of options yet. There was still another lead to investigate.
Collins was a local supermarket, unique to Blackpool and its surrounding area. The one Rita entered that morning was the largest of the five-shop “empire�
��. She wasn’t there to sample their unrivalled selection of fresh fruit and veg though, nor to see what delights the cheese counter had to offer. No, she was at Collins Supermarket to have a word or two with its assistant manager.
Rita found him in a cramped back office, looking at a bank of small TV sets that relayed images from the supermarket’s security cameras. Derek Nolan. Low-level wizard and former Head of Maths at Old Lane Secondary School, fired for fondling a student.
‘Hey there, Mr. Gropey!’ said Rita, as she shut the door behind her.
‘You!’ Derek hopped up out of his chair and backed up. ‘I told you and Carlisle already, I don’t know anything about the Magician!’
‘Oh, that’s old news, I caught him already, keep up,’ she replied, plopping herself down into a swivel chair and turning to look at the wall of TV sets, one of which seemed to be looking down at a woman in the staff toilets taking a pee.
Derek grabbed a remote and turned off the sets.
‘Okay, I’m going to be tearing that camera down on my way out, you dirty little perv,’ said Rita. ‘And I’ll be making regular visits to sweep the place for any new cameras, understood?’
Derek nodded, looking down at the floor like a toddler who’d just had his favourite toy taken away. ‘It’s a sickness,’ he mumbled.
‘Then get help,’ she replied.
‘Why are you here?’
‘I’m here because the bloody remains of a wizard are in a body bag back at the hospital morgue, and I want to know what you and your little boys’ club of local wizards know about that.’
Derek looked up at her, blinking dumbly. ‘What?’
Rita stood and moved her coat aside so he could see the axe hanging from her belt.
‘Hey, no need for that! I don’t know anything about a body, not anything, this is the first I’m hearing about it.’
‘There must be talk. I can’t imagine a hotter topic in the club house.’
‘I haven’t been since I took you and Carlisle there. And even if I had, I’m nobody. I’m a junior member, they don’t tell me everything. Honest to God.’
Rita walked over to Derek slowly, making him back up until the wall blocked his way. ‘You’d better be telling me the truth, Gropey. I might be hexed, but I’m still the police, and I will take you down if you lie to me.’
‘Understood. I don’t want any trouble.’
‘Good. Then take a message to the others. Tell them I’m on the case and I expect their cooperation, because I’m gonna have questions. Understood?’
‘Absolutely. I’ll tell them. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll tell them.’
‘Then also tell them this is not a manner for debate. Police, remember?’
Derek nodded.
Satisfied, Rita turned and headed for the door. ‘And if I catch you perving again, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life looking at the inside of a cell, got it?’
Derek flopped down into his swivel chair as Rita left, shaking all over. After a few minutes to catch his breath, he turned on the wall of security cams to see the one that he’d hidden in the ladies toilets a few weeks previous now only showed static.
‘Bollocks,’ he muttered.
Ben Turner woke that morning twisted in his sheets, head pounding. He dragged himself out of bed to silence the alarm, which he always placed on the other side of the room so he’d have to get up to turn it off; a trick he learned a long time ago that helped him wake up. A trick Sally had taught him.
He didn’t have any recollection of getting home the previous night, but there were things he did recall. Things that seemed like a dream that was turning to smoke in his mind. He stood in the shower for a while, head hung as the water battered down on him, trying to grasp hold of the fading memories. There had been a woman in the dream that may or may not have been a dream. Mary? Maggie? Something like that, he was sure of it. She’d been tall, and sleek, with eyes that had just pulled him in.
Eyes that had… changed?
God, she’d been beautiful. So completely beautiful. And then terrifying.
He remembered her attacking him as he stepped out of the shower, and wiped the mirror clean so he could examine his neck. He leaned in closer and craned his head to one side, exploring the exposed skin with his fingertips, searching for any sign of being bitten.
Nothing.
He towelled off, dressed, and wandered into work on legs made of rubber.
‘All right, mate,’ said Steve plopping himself down on the edge of Ben’s desk. ‘Jesus, you look like shite.’
‘Yeah, thanks.’
‘That’s the problem with ducking out on so many nights at the pub, your tolerance goes down.’
Steve laughed and headed back to his office, leaving Ben wondering if he was right. He felt like re-heated crap, and his head was trying to convince him that a beautiful woman had grown big, sharp teeth and munched on his neck. Which, of course, was crazy. More than crazy. And if it wasn’t crazy, then where was the evidence? No bite, no wound, nothing. He’d just gotten pissed, that was all. Someone had probably spiked his drink—Steve more than likely—and left him wandering around Blackpool, tripping balls.
The woman though… he was so sure that part was real. Magda! That was it, that was her name. There was no way he’d just imagined her. Well great. A beautiful, sexy, incredible woman had been interested in him, right until the point a Mickey kicked in and left him on his ear. She must have thought he was a complete maniac.
Ben downed a bottle of Evian and shuffled to the kitchen for a refill.
He wondered if he’d bump into Magda again.
He wondered how long it would be before he was throwing up in the toilet.
Rita passed beneath the ornate, twisted brass archway of the Night Fair, and pushed open the gates to reveal the stalls within. The Night Fair was a place Uncanny types went to for a little fun in Blackpool. It was called The Night Fair, as no matter what the time of day was, within its boundary, the stars were always out, pin-pricking the darkness.
Rita wasn’t at The Night Fair to browse its weird food stalls, or wander through its house of mirrors, she was there to step into the other Night Fair. The dreamscape copy she’d created using the stolen magic of Mr. Cotton and Mr. Spike. The magic she’d used to imprison DCI Alexander Jenner.
Rita pulled out the axe and swung it, cleaving a tear in reality, and opening the dreamscape just a little. Enough for her to step inside of.
Jenner was sat in the dirt, his head resting against the side of a stall.
‘Hello, Guv,’ said Rita.
Her former boss did not look up. ‘I can’t hear It. I can’t hear my Angel.’
‘Yeah, that’s for your own good, you big sack of crazy. Believe me, if others had their way, you’d be dead as MySpace.’
‘And this is better?’ spat Jenner, a snarl across his face, body tense as piano wire.
‘Easy now, Guv. Don’t make me spank you with my good friend Ms. Axe here. She’ll leave a mark.’
Jenner sagged then curled into a ball.
‘Here,’ said Rita, and tossed him a bag full of food and water. ‘Go nuts. Well, more nuts.’
Jenner didn’t move. Rita sank down to her haunches and looked at her old boss. The Guv. The man she’d trusted and respected for years, at least until she found out he was kidnapping and murdering women because an Angel told him to.
The man who’d killed Dan Waterson.
To see him now, so broken, so pathetic… this wasn’t the Alex Jenner she’d called her boss. She wanted to hate the man. Wanted to feel a white hot fire in her stomach. Those women deserved her anger. Waterson deserved it. But all she felt was pity. Pity for a man who’d been used by a thing he could never truly understand. Plied and manipulated, ever since he’d been a vulnerable young boy. Jenner wasn’t who Rita directed her anger at. No. That hatred belonged to the Angel of Blackpool.
Speaking of which.
‘A wizard was murdered in Blackpool, Guv.
’ Jenner ignored her, trailing a finger round and around in the dirt, making mud circles. ‘Did you hear me? A wizard was murdered. And not just murdered, torn to pieces. I’ve never seen a vic like it.’ Jenner did not answer. ‘Guv? Alex? Come on, you’re free of It now. We can talk. It won’t know what you’ve said. Is this anything to do with the Angel? This murder?’
Jenner sat up and looked at Rita with empty eyes. She shivered. Could he be saved? Was there anything in there to save at this point? Was she going to have to keep him here forever? A prisoner to look after until the day she died?
‘They’re in there,’ said Jenner, so quietly that Rita almost missed it.
‘What? Who’s in where?’
‘We took, and we chained, and I chop, chop, chopped, and took what was needed.’
Rita looked at the axe in her hand. ‘Jane? Jane and Ellie?’
‘I took their souls. I killed them and I took their souls and they are in there still, waiting. The others will join them. You’ll see.’
Jenner stood, a grin on his face that made Rita step back.
‘Don’t move, Guv, I don’t want to hurt you.
‘They’re in the axe,’ Jenner growled, slowly walking towards her.
‘I’m warning you, Guv!’
‘Two have fallen, their souls captured, and sooner or later, the others chosen shall join them, and then—
Rita stumbled back. ‘Last warning!’
‘—and then the Angel will step free of Its prison and Heaven will tremble!’
The dreamscape closed behind her as Rita fell back on to the grass, the entrance to the actual Night Fair before her once again, the flames of torches flickering either end of the rusted metal archway.
‘Shit,’ said Rita, standing and brushing the dirt off her rear. She walked away from the Night Fair, from the dreamscape, as the full moon shone down.
‘Hair of the dog?’ said Steve, slipping his coat on.
Ben didn’t hear him. He was slouched in his chair, the monitor before him an indistinct blur.
