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

by David Bussell

  What in the name of all that’s unholy did I say that for?

  Yes! Yes please, thank you. That’s the correct response to a beautiful woman who you really, really like asking you out on a date!

  So why had I dithered? What was holding me back from grasping this rare romantic opportunity that had fallen into my unworthy lap? I was definitely interested, and I’d come to terms with the whole Chloe thing now. Plus, she was dead, so even if I hadn’t, the chance of a happy ending there seemed fairly remote.

  So why the uncertainty with Annie?

  I would have continued to muse on my surprising reaction if I hadn’t been surprised by a cathedral.

  I’d turned down the back street where I’d parked the Uncanny Wagon, only to find an enormous cathedral stood next to it. Now, I may have been working on a limited amount of sleep, but I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed pulling up next to something of that magnitude. Especially as it appeared to have been pulled directly from a gothic-themed nightmare.

  I leaned back and took in its entire impressive, if crumbling, facade, and gawped in awe at the giant spire that reached so impossibly high into the early evening sky that its tip was hidden by clouds.

  The smart thing to do at this point would have been to leap behind the wheel of the Uncanny Wagon, speed off home, and forget all about the gigantic, shadow-drenched nightmare building that had definitely not been there a little earlier. So of course I made a beeline for the place.

  I stopped before the cathedral’s massive, imposing entrance. Its twin doors were made of thick mahogany and studded with rusted, metal spikes. Very inviting for a house of God, yes?

  As I stepped closer, I thought I could hear the church organ playing inside.

  Okay, this was clearly something Uncanny and potentially dangerous and now was really the time to get in my motor and drive away.

  I pressed my hand against the door and, with a little effort, it creaked open.

  Damn you, curiosity.

  My footsteps echoed around the huge, vaulted space as I entered, and I found myself shivering as the temperature seemed to drop around ten degrees.

  ‘Hello?’ I said, trying to stop my teeth from chattering.

  At first I wasn’t sure what the tune being played on the church organ was. Then I became convinced it was Bohemian Rhapsody.

  I slowly made my way around a fat, stone column, and the main space revealed itself. Wooden pews lined the floor, all pushed over, broken, coated with moss. It was clear that no one had sat down to listen to a sermon here in a long time.

  Dominating the far wall was a ginormous stained glass window, which depicted what appeared to be residents from a lunatic’s worst nightmares tearing the heads from terrified soldiers, holding them above their open mouths, and drinking down the blood that poured out. Which seemed a bit much for a house of God.

  The cathedral’s pipe organ was situated to one side of this gory window, with a strange yet familiar figure tickling the ivories.

  A skeleton.

  ‘Hello again,’ I said, and threw in a jaunty little wave.

  ‘Here at last, are you?’ replied the skeleton.

  I’d met this musically gifted set of bones on a previous visit to the Dark Lakes, which told me that this mysterious cathedral must be connected to that unpleasant place.

  ‘Do you know any other Queen songs?’ I asked. ‘Maybe a little Don’t Stop Me Now?’

  The skeleton scratched at his skull as he had a think with, well, whatever it is that skeletons think with, then launched into a not bad version with some gusto. I even found my foot tapping, and began to hum along.

  When the song came to an end, I gave the skeleton a round of applause.

  ‘Thank you, I thank you,’ he replied, standing to bow.

  ‘As nice as that was, is there a reason you’re here? Is there a reason this whole creepy, battered cathedral with the heavy metal stained glass window has appeared on the streets of Carlisle?’

  ‘Death, Janto. Death is why we’re here.’

  I didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit.

  ‘In what way?’ I asked. ‘A nice way? Like with tarot cards: you know, “Don’t think of it as an end, but the beginning of something new”?’

  The skeleton idly teased at the organ’s keys as his empty, black eye sockets stayed fixed on me. To add to the creep, I noted he was playing the theme tune from The Exorcist.

  ‘I see a lot, you know, Janto.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  ‘I see death in your future. Unavoidable.’

  ‘My death?’

  ‘That would be telling. But it’s there. Clear as night. Tragedy. A fall is coming. A fall that stings and shocks and changes.’

  I’d be lying if I said this conversation was lifting my spirits much.

  ‘Right, well, I’ll be off home if that’s okay,’ I said. ‘Oh, and don’t feel like you have to transport a whole evil cathedral into the middle of town when you fancy a chat. Just text next time, okay?’

  I turned to head off into the night, only to find the Red Woman perched, legs crossed, on one of the overturned pews. Her thick, red hair tumbled down her shoulders, and her skin was as pale as a ghost’s. She wore a form-fitting, green dress, the skirt split to an almost obscene level. She looked much like Rita Hayworth playing the part of a femme fatale, and here I was, some poor sap in way over his head.

  ‘Magic Eater,’ she said, her voice a purr.

  ‘Oh good, you’re here too. I was just off, so I’ll leave you and the skeleton to it. Hi and goodbye.’

  As I passed, the Red Woman reached out and took my wrist in her icicle fingers.

  ‘What’s the hurry, Magic Eater?’

  ‘It’s Joseph. Not Janto, not Magic Eater: Joseph.’

  She smiled, then bowed her head once. ‘As you wish. What’s in a name, anyway?’

  ‘What’s all this in aid of anyway?’ I asked, gesturing to our surroundings.

  ‘I just wanted to see you.’

  Apparently, I was in demand with beautiful women today. Twice in one lifetime. Pretty good going.

  ‘This building is not in your world,’ said the Red Woman. ‘I have extended it from the Dark Lakes so we could have this conversation..’

  ‘Right. Thanks? Is this a “thanks” situation? Thanks.’

  ‘Sit down, Joseph, I don’t bite. Well, that’s not strictly true.’

  The Red Woman smiled and rubbed a hand up her thigh, towards her, well… her you-know-what.

  Lady bits.

  I tried to ignore the sexy display and made to sit down on the pew. Unfortunately, I completely failed to ignore the sexy display and missed my perch, landing with a jarring thump on the flagstone.

  ‘Ha!’ exclaimed the skeleton. ‘What an idiot. And this is your great hope?’

  The Red Woman clicked her fingers and the music playing skeleton disappeared.

  Trying to reclaim my dignity, I stood, brushed down my coat, then finally took my seat.

  ‘I apologise for the nattering skeleton,’ she said.

  ‘Look, I know why you’re here,’ I said. ‘I know what you want. You’ve made your intentions for me clear over and over and over, and I’m, well, sort of sick of hearing it. Okay? I’m never, ever, going to fulfil my stupid destiny.’

  The Red Woman smiled, her white teeth dazzling. She began to chuckle. It was not in the least bit reassuring.

  ‘What? What’s so funny? Do I have food between my teeth?’

  ‘Can’t you feel it? Doesn’t it prickle at your skin?’

  ‘I… what?’

  ‘You don’t sense the inevitability?’

  ‘All I sense is how cold this place is. Saving money on heating bills, or…?’

  ‘Chatter on, but your throne is waiting, and you are heading towards it, whatever you might think.’

  ‘No. You’re wrong.’

  ‘Something has changed. Something is coming. I can see it. I can see you taking your seat on the thr
one at last, and I won’t have to lift a finger to make it happen.’

  I stood, pulling my coat tight, and feeling a fist of anger grip my stomach. ‘You’re wrong.’

  ‘No,’ she said, tipping her head back, a look of sensual pleasure washing over her face. ‘Something has changed, I know it; every nerve ending I have aches with the knowledge. You will become the Magic Eater at last, and soon. Oh, very soon.’

  I didn’t bother replying. I walked across the cathedral floor, my boots echoing with each footstep, and tried to ignore the seed of worry that had taken root in my belly.

  5

  As I stepped out of the cathedral, I blinked in surprise. It was night. It had been early evening when I stepped inside, but now it was pitch black. I checked the time on my phone. It was almost three in the morning. I turned back to look at the cathedral, only to find it had disappeared, and that I was now stood in front of a plain brick wall. I’d only been inside the cathedral for a few minutes at most, and it had spat me out hours later before vanishing when I had my back turned.

  Rude.

  My phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down to see I’d missed multiple calls from both Eva and Detective Maya Myers.

  I groaned and wondered what the chances were that I could just slink home and finally get some sleep.

  My phone rang.

  Detective Maya Myers.

  I considered ignoring it.

  I answered.

  Damn it.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Well, don’t you sound like you’re just full of the joy of existence?’ said Myers, her familiar sarcastic lilt making me smile despite myself.

  ‘You know, I think I’m going to start turning my phone off at night,’ I replied. ‘What’s wrong?’

  What was wrong, according to Detective Myers, was that something had killed a whole barn full of sheep at Hunter’s Farm.

  I made peace with the idea of never sleeping again, climbed into the Uncanny Wagon, and steered it towards the scene of the crime.

  Myers greeted me when I arrived, her leather jacket done up to keep out the frosty morning air. She held a metal thermos of coffee in a gloved hand.

  ‘Could I have a sip?’ I asked.

  ‘Do you have a cup?’

  I patted myself down. ‘Not on me, no.’

  ‘Sorry, then that’s a no. Germs.’

  Myers smiled and gestured for me to follow her to the barn.

  Inside, it was, well, a bloody mess. And I mean that literally. Shredded sheep littered the place. Chunks of flesh, pools of blood, and dangling entrails covered almost every inch of the place. It looked like every creature inside the place had exploded.

  It was disgusting. I mean, really disgusting. Like a bomb had gone off in a butchers shop.

  Eva was on the scene already, crouching down and using a stick to poke at an unidentifiable portion of sheep.

  ‘He’s here,’ said Myers.

  Eva grunted by way of reply.

  ‘Frosty greeting, even for her,’ said Myers, quietly, as she sipped at her coffee.

  ‘Yeah, well, we had a bit of an awkward moment.’

  ‘Couldn’t most of her moments be considered awkward?’

  ‘Good point,’ I said. ‘So, what happened here, exactly?’ It was all I could do not to end the sentence with the word, ‘Aliens?’

  ‘It’s not fucking aliens,’ said Eva, lips clamped around a freshly-rolled up cigarette.

  ’I didn’t say a thing,’ I said, raising my hands. ‘But… maybe? I mean, I’ve read about this sort of thing. Aliens love to pop down and mess around with farm animals. Cutting them open to see how they work, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Okay, demons, ghosts, maybe even vampires...’ said Myers, ‘...but I draw the line at policing little green men.’

  ‘Already told you,’ spat Eva, ‘it’s not fucking aliens.’

  She took a thermos of her own out of her tatty coat’s inside pocket.

  ‘Coffee?’ I said, almost dumbfounded to see her drinking anything other than cans of super-strength lager.

  ‘Whisky,’ she replied. ‘I’m not an animal.’

  I was going to point out that the purpose of a thermos was to store coffee, not spirits, but I let it go. Particularly as she still had a stick on her person.

  ‘Well then, a barn full of slaughtered sheep,’ I said. ‘What do the farmers have to say? Did they see anything? Hear anything?’

  Myers nodded. ‘Mr Hunter says he did. Got up for a piss in the night and thought he saw movement outside the barn. Left the house with a cricket bat to investigate. Stepped into the barn to see this horror show.’

  ‘But no sign of who did it?’ I asked. ‘Maybe a glimpse at a departing flying saucer?’

  Myers shook her head. ‘This isn’t the first local farm to see something like this recently, though it is the first on this level. A few others have seen a cow killed, or a couple of pigs, but nothing on this scale.’

  ‘So whatever’s behind it has taken a step up,’ I said.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Myers, before putting a hand to her head and scrunching her eyes up. ‘Christ, I think I’ve got a bastard of a head coming on.’

  ‘Oi, long streak of piss, go on then,’ said Eva.

  ‘Go on then what?’ I replied.

  Eva gesticulated at the nearest lumps of dead sheep. ‘Do your thing, get your hands dirty!’

  Ah. Yes. One of the few abilities I seem to still have access to is that I can touch the bodies of the recently deceased and see flashes of their experiences close to the point of death. I looked around at all the disgusting, blood-soaked bits strewn around the barn among the straw and dung.

  ‘But… I don’t want to touch them,’ I said, my voice a toddler’s whine.

  ‘You’re good for practically fuck all,’ replied Eva. ‘Transportation, and this. So go over there and touch some dead things.’

  I looked to Myers for support.

  ‘She has a point.’

  ‘Traitor.’

  Myers smiled and shrugged.

  I sighed and picked my way carefully across the gore-coated floor until I found a mostly intact sheep corpse. This one only had a couple of its legs torn off and its intestines trailing out of it like a grim bridal train.

  I forgot to mention the smell.

  It really smelled.

  A lot.

  I grimaced and lowered myself into a crouch, not wanting to dip my knees into the crimson pooled at my feet.

  ‘Okay, nothing disgusting about what I’m about to do, all perfectly normal and not at all nightmare inducing.’

  ‘Get on with it, idiot,’ encouraged Eva.

  ‘Okay!’

  I breathed in a couple of times, then closed my eyes and tried to connect with the magic around me. I felt it respond. Felt it begin to flow towards me. And then, without thinking too much about the disgusting mess I was reaching for, I put both hands onto the dead sheep and waited for the magic to happen.

  And waited.

  And waited a little bit more.

  The magic did not happen. Not at all.

  I opened my eyes, confused, and looked back to Eva and Myers.

  ‘Well?’ said the detective. ‘What did you see?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s working,’ I replied.

  ‘Great, so now we’re just down to transportation,’ said Eva, swigging whisky.

  ‘Try again,’ said Myers

  I turned back to the dead animal and tried to concentrate. This always worked. This “sight” power. Even before I knew how to control it, it had worked. I’d touch a thing and all of these images would come rushing in. Dreadful little home movies of a living thing’s final moments.

  I focused.

  I looked around me this time, as the magic in the air flickered into view. Other Uncanny types see the washes of colour all the time. They live in it. But not me. Not anymore. I have to really want to see it. Have to force myself to.

  I gritted my teeth and the magic soa
ked into me, more and more, and I made my demands of it. Told it who I was and what I wanted.

  I touched the dead sheep again.

  And I saw not a bloody thing.

  I grunted and pushed harder, my hands beginning to tingle, as though being swarmed with static, but no pictures, no insight, popped into my mind’s eye.

  I stood, confused.

  ‘Well?’ said Eva.

  ‘Something’s not right,’ I replied.

  ‘Well, yeah,’ said Myers. ‘I mean, we are stood in a barn full of dead bodies.’

  ‘What did you see?’ asked Eva, growing irritable. Well, more irritable. She has levels. Grumpy, all the way to absolutely fucking livid.

  ‘I didn’t see anything, it felt like I was being blocked. Like there was a wall between me and the animal’s final moments.’

  ‘Try another one,’ she replied.

  And so I did. In the end I must have stuffed my hands into twenty different sheep, but always the same story.

  Something had murdered all of these animals in the most brutal of ways.

  And whatever it was, it knew how to stop me from seeing it.

  6

  Sleep.

  I’m a big fan of sleep.

  And yet I was getting so little of it that I’d found myself literally lusting after the stuff.

  After my failure at the barn I excused myself, drove home, and collapsed into bed, still fully-dressed.

  I was asleep in seconds.

  Sadly, I wasn’t able to glean any enjoyment from it, thanks to the troubling dream I’d been having playing a repeat episode.

  There I was again, stark bollock naked, and about to step into Derwentwater for a bit of a swim.

  It wasn’t that the dream was a nightmare exactly. Nothing explicitly scary happened, but each time I experienced the dream, I felt a strange uneasiness that stuck with me for hours after waking.

  I waded into the chill water, feeling the stones beneath my feet.

  ‘Swim down.’

  ‘Swim down, Janto.’

  Those distant, familiar voices teased at me again as I waded into the water.

  ‘Swim down.’

  I turned and looked back from where I’d just walked, to see two figures looking at me. Two women.

  ‘Swim down, Janto,’ said one of them.