Uncanny Kingdom: An Eleven Book Urban Fantasy Collection (Uncanny Kingdom Omnibus 1)

by David Bussell

  ‘Christ,’ I said, on the edge of my seat, coffee forgotten, imagining Annie being swallowed by that black mouth. This girl knew how to tell a story! ‘What happened then?’ I asked.

  ‘I landed. It hurt like a bastard, and for a few moments I thought I couldn’t breathe, that the impact had knocked the wind out of me so badly I’d never be able to inhale again. But it passed, and I got control over my lungs again, and up I stood. Lucky for me, the bottom of the well was pretty soggy, otherwise I’d have been dead for sure.’

  ‘What happened next?’ I asked, riveted.

  ‘What do you think? I yelled, and screamed, and screamed some more. No one came though. My parents weren’t going to be back for hours, so I had a go at climbing up the stone walls of the well. I never got more than a few feet before slipping back down again. I was stuck. Stuck down a dark, stinking well, with no way to get out, scared out of my mind. I was bawling my eyes out; great, heaving sobs as I sat against the side of the well, hugging my knees. That’s when I made a mistake. A mistake much worse than tapdancing on those rotten boards.’

  ‘What? What did you do?’

  ‘I asked for help. Again and again. I said I’d give anything if I could just get out of there without my parents finding out what I’d done. I suppose I was trying to bargain with god, like you do when you’re in a bad spot—whether you believe in a god or not—but it wasn’t god who answered.’

  ‘Who then? The devil?’

  Annie nodded.

  ‘Or something close to it. I didn’t hear it at first, I was so taken up with my crying and begging, but then I started to hear it. A whisper. It was coming from a crack in the wall of the well. I put my ear to the crack, and as I did, the voice became clearer.’

  ‘What did it say?’

  Annie took another sip of her water, then looked at me dead in the eyes for the first time since she’d started her story.

  ‘It said, “What wouldst thou like?” Just that. Just those words, over and over.’

  ‘Well, that sounds pretty wet-your-knickers terrifying.’

  ‘It was. Although I didn’t piss myself.’

  ‘You go, girl.’

  ‘I thought it must be an angel, so I answered. I said more than anything I wanted out of the well and for my mum and dad never to find out. The voice said it could help me, but it would need something in return. I said I’d give it anything I had; my best dolly, all my music tapes, even my piggy bank, which was almost full. The voice said it wanted my soul. I said fine.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘I was a scared seven-year-old, I wasn’t thinking it through.’

  ‘Right, yes. Sorry.’

  ‘The voice asked me to repeat my consent, so I did. Then I blinked and I wasn’t in the well anymore. I was stood beside it, and the boards across the opening were intact, like nothing had ever happened.’

  I sat back and sipped at my coffee.

  ‘Well, blimey. That’s quite a story.’

  ‘I haven’t finished yet.’

  ‘What more is there? I get it, you were stuck and you sold your soul.’

  Annie shifted uncomfortably in her bed, her face flushing a little.

  ‘What? What is it?’

  ‘It might not have been the only time I… sold my soul.’

  ‘Pardon me now?’

  ‘In my defence, I was seven and thought I’d discovered a wish granting angel, or genie or something, down at the bottom of a well. What would you do?’

  ‘You went back down, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did, yes. More than once.’

  ‘How many times more than once?’

  ‘I lost count. Any time there was something I needed, from money, to a skill, to some bitch at school who was giving me a hard time being dealt with, I would go over to the well, push the board aside, and climb down a ladder to my wish-giver.’

  I could understand that. If all you had to do to get what you wanted was to sign over a soul you’d already given away, I mean, who could resist?

  ‘Wait a second, this thing did what you wanted because you gave it your soul, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Then why did it keep giving you things? It already had your soul, surely?’

  ‘Yeah. It turns out I may have sold my soul to a lot of demons. I mean a lot. At first I didn’t really notice, they always seemed to whisper, but I began to realise that each time I spoke to my wish-giver, I was hearing a slightly different voice. Whatever connection that well was giving me to these things, it wasn’t directed at just one demon. I think every time I connected, it was as though I’d dialled a different number out of the book at random.’

  ‘So, you promised your soul to a different demon over and over again.’

  Annie nodded.

  ‘That’s a good way to piss off a whole bunch of different demons. I mean, they can’t all have your one little-bitty soul.’

  ‘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 doctors 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 hi
t 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 in to 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 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.