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

by David Bussell

  And now I knew who the voices belonged to.

  I knew who the two women were.

  Lyna and Melodia. The two dead witches of the Cumbrian Coven. The two dead witches that I’d murdered after becoming some sort of power-crazed lunatic with murder on his mind.

  ‘Swim down.’

  I turned from them and ducked into the water.

  I’d like to say that when I eventually awoke I was refreshed and ready to attack the day a new man. I’d like to say that. Instead, I woke to find I’d slept all the way through to late afternoon, and my head was full of cotton wool. Sleeping for too long always seems to make me feel worse than not having slept at all.

  I cursed my stupid body and dragged myself to the shower, hoping the water pummelling me would blast away the fog.

  Feeling a little more with it, I made a late-late-late breakfast of eggs and toast and started to think about Annie. I’d no idea why I’d delayed answering her offer of a date. I liked her. She liked me. What was I worried about? My life was full of monsters and fear and the threat of becoming a world-crushing, flame-skinned beast. I could do with a little romance.

  ‘Hi.’

  The unexpected greeting almost caused me to spill my eggs.

  The Fox was stood on my couch, almost sheepishly.

  ‘Getting better,’ I said, decanting my freshly-scrambled eggs onto a plate and reaching into a cupboard to fish out the brown sauce. ‘You can still do some work on the surprise element. It would be nice not to jump out of my skin every time you turned up.’

  The Fox looked at me confused, ‘But you are still within your skin.’

  ‘Right. My mistake.’ I dolloped the sauce on, grabbed a fork, and sat on the couch next to the Fox.

  ‘If you’re hungry, there’s crisps in the cupboard,’ I said.

  ‘I am not hungry,’ he replied.

  ‘Suit yourself.’

  The Fox paused, then hopped off the couch and grabbed himself a packet of crisps. Salt & Vinegar. A gourmet’s choice.

  ‘Thank you, Magic Eater, for sharing your rations.’

  ‘Joseph. It’s Joseph.’

  ‘Yes. Joseph.’

  He hopped up onto the couch again and we watched a Frasier re-run in silence for a few minutes as I finished my eggs and he munched on his crisps.

  ‘Your dwelling is not tidy,’ said the Fox.

  I looked around my snug home; it was true that it resembled more of a student flat than the home of a man in his 30s. Or, in my case, a man possibly in his 930s.

  ‘Your Red Woman paid me a visit last night,’ I said, placing my plate on the floor.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘In fact, she didn’t come alone. Brought a skeleton. And a very run-down cathedral.’

  The Fox nodded, ‘I know of the place. And the skeleton. He will not stop playing no matter how much you threaten.’

  ‘I thought he was pretty good. For a skeleton. So, are you here to convince me to take up the mantle of Magic Eater? To fulfil my shitty destiny?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh. Well. Why are you here, then?’

  The Fox looked at his feet. ‘I do not like the Dark Lakes anymore. I do not want to stay there.’

  I can’t say I was entirely sure where to go from there. Was the Fox attempting to have a heart to heart with me? He looked so glum, the poor little sod, that before I could stop myself, I reached over and gave his belly fur a little ruffle.

  ‘There there. Chin up.’

  The Fox grinned. ‘She is very sure that you will soon take the throne.’

  ‘Yeah, she said.’

  ‘Very sure. She does not tell me why. I think perhaps she does not know. But yet she knows.’

  ‘Well, she’s out of luck. The only throne this arse sits on is in my bathroom.’

  ‘You have a throne there?’

  I looked at the Fox for several seconds.

  ‘Yes. I have a throne there.’

  ‘Ah…’ said the Fox, apparently impressed.

  I felt my phone vibrate and plucked it from my pocket, expecting it to be either Eva or Detective Myers with more news on the dead sheep, instead, I saw that someone had contacted me through my spooky website.

  A little background: before I knew who I was, I used to investigate weird stuff. It was more of a hobby than anything. I’d look into all sorts of spooky goings-on; anything from suspected hauntings, to claims of vampirism. None of it ever added up to anything, but it got me out the house, and kept me distracted from the gnawing mystery of my own identity.

  I’d packed all that in though. I barely had enough time as it was, what with the day job and my coven duties, without running around the countryside chasing non-existent ghosts. Still, something about this message caught my interest. If I had to put it down to anything, think I’d say it was the last line, which read: PLEASE HELP, MONEY NO OBJECT. I don’t know why, but something about that part snagged my attention.

  Two hours later I was sat in Brewer’s Cafe, just off the main street in the centre of Keswick. Keswick, the small town I lived in, was a market town, huddled within the Lake District, surrounded by mountains. It’s close to Derwentwater, so I’d set up shop here after waking there without my memory.

  I’d phoned the man who left me the intriguing message and suggested we met the next day, but he’d seemed very keen to talk as soon as possible, so here I was, nursing a mug of tea and waiting for him to arrive.

  I took out my phone and clicked on my contacts. Annie’s name was top of the list.

  I took a breath. ‘Okay. Well. Okay.’

  I hit ‘Call’.

  She answered in three rings. Neither keen, nor unkeen.

  ‘I was wondering if I was going to hear from you, Joe.’

  ‘Yes, right, sorry.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Look, first of all, I apologise for whatever that was yesterday.’

  ‘That was a bit weird, yeah.’

  ‘A bit weird is a good description of me, so it’s very on brand.’

  There was a bit of a pause.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And yes. Sorry. I would very much enjoy being in a romantic date type situation with you, Annie.’

  ‘Would you now?’

  ‘Yes. Please.’

  ‘Well I’m sorry, the offer’s off the table.’

  I felt as though I’d shrunk about ten inches. ‘Oh. Of course. Of course it is. Sorry to bother you.’

  Annie started to laugh.

  ‘You rotten sod,’ I said, and couldn’t help but laugh too.

  ‘Enjoy a taste of your own medicine.’

  ‘I really am sorry, you just caught me a bit off guard.’

  ‘You can make up for it by taking me out for a meal Friday.’

  I felt the excited butterflies begin to bash around in my stomach. ‘Absolutely. A meal. This Friday. That I can do.’

  ‘Good. I’ll see you then, Joe.’

  ‘Yes you will, Annie.’

  I finished the call and pocketed my phone, my cheeks aching as my grin was so huge.

  Well, well, Joe you old womaniser you.

  ‘Mr Lake?’

  I looked up as the voice snapped me out of my warm fuzzy-wuzzies. A jittery-looking man in an ill-fitting suit hovered a few feet away.

  ‘Mr Lake? Are you Mr Lake?’

  ‘That’s me, but Joseph will do. You’re Paul Travers, I presume?’

  The man looked over his shoulder, then quickly took the seat opposite me, nodding. I took in the strange specimen before me. He didn’t look in the best of ways, in fact he looked bloody petrified. His eyes bulged, his fingers clenched and waggled and interlocked and wouldn’t settle. His hair was stuck damp to his forehead, and he had a good four days growth on his face. Something was clearly causing him distress.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘What?’ he replied, looking nervously around the busy cafe, full of rotund old women, with hair dyed shades of purple and pink, chomping down on cream buns.
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  ‘You seem a little on edge. In fact you seem fully on edge. The whole of you is just one big edge.’

  ‘I need help.’

  ‘Okay, so what is it I can do for you, Mr Travers?’

  ‘We all need help. Not just me. It’s all of them. They think I don’t know yet, but I do. I see it. I see them all.’

  I was starting to suspect that this man might be a little on the insane side.

  ‘What is it you know, exactly?’ I asked.

  ‘They’re all in on it!’ he cried, his voice a high-pitched shriek that drew the disapproving eyes of the rest of the room.

  ‘It’s okay, you’re safe here, Mr Travers. No need for shouting. Can I get you a cup of tea?’

  He stood, kicking his chair back and gripping what was left of his sweat-drenched hair between his fingers. ‘No! No, no, no, no, no! He’s coming! He’s coming!’

  I stood slowly, worried that he might be about to hurt himself. Or worse, hurt me. Not a fan of being hurt.

  ‘Calm down, you’re okay, there’s no need to panic.’

  ‘This was a mistake. That’s all. A mistake. Simple mistake. Mistakes happen, happen, happen, happen!’

  He turned, and in his haste to leave, stumbled over his fallen chair. Careering to one side, he spilled into a neighbouring table, causing a couple of fellow diners’ drinks to tumble and crash to the floor.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, this was a mistake,’ he said to their noisy complaints.

  ‘Mr Travers—Paul—tell me what’s wrong!’ I called after him, but he didn’t answer.

  Mt Travers rushed out of the cafe and was gone.

  7

  A couple of days passed uneventfully until Friday arrived, the day of my big date with Annie.

  In the meantime I’d tried to get in touch with Paul Travers a couple of times, after his hasty, sweaty, strange exit, but he hadn’t responded. I decided it best to assume he was just on something of the illegal variety, and put the whole business out of my mind.

  ‘You are dressed finer than usual,’ said the Fox, who was sat eating crisps on my couch (salt & vinegar, of course).

  ‘I’m going to have to start charging you rent soon,’ I replied. ‘And for the food,’

  The Fox grinned back, his spiky teeth full of mashed potato. He’d popped in a lot over the last few days, which should have bothered me I suppose, considering it had been his job to locate me for the Red Woman and coerce me into being, you know, an evil, murdery bastard. Instead, I found myself enjoying the company. It was like having a pet. A talking, crisp-loving pet.

  I sat next to the Fox as he stared, transfixed by another episode of Frasier.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ I said.

  ‘Anything. You are the oncoming darkness, the eater of magic, the—’

  ‘Yeah, about that. You knew me. The real me, from before. Janto the warlock.’

  ‘That is so, yes.’

  ‘So, what was I like exactly?’

  The Fox scratched at his chin with the edge of his battle axe as he considered the question. ‘You looked the same.’

  ‘Obviously I looked the same, that’s not what I meant. I meant personality wise.’

  ‘Oh, you were very good.’

  ‘Good?’

  ‘Yes.’ The Fox frowned. ‘Well. Not good. Opposite of good. Very bad.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Very, very bad.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Horrible.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Very nasty.’

  ‘I said, I see!’

  We sat in silence for a few seconds as I huffed. What exactly had I expected him to say? From what little scraps I’d been fed, and the knowledge of how things had ended up, I knew I wasn’t exactly a saint. I was the exact opposite, in fact.

  ‘Was there anything good about me?’

  ‘Your hair,’ said the Fox. ‘Always had very good hair.’

  It’s true, I do have very nice hair. And I don’t even do anything special to it. That’s not a brag, just a stone cold fact.

  ‘Most people, when they first find themselves at the Dark Lakes, they are afraid,’ said the Fox. ‘I was the first creature there that you met, and I saw no fear in you. None at all. I saw determination. I saw someone who knew they were where they belonged. I saw a hunger that would chew through worlds.’

  The Fox shivered a little and then turned his attention back to his crisps. ‘Do you have any more salt & vinegar?’

  I was meeting Annie in a little Italian place down a back street in Keswick. It was a short distance from my flat, so I left the Fox to his TV watching and headed over on foot.

  The truth was, my stomach was in knots at the prospect of meeting Annie, and I hoped the cool, early evening air might help me get a hold of myself.

  It may come as some surprise to you, but my romantic history was somewhat patchy. I know, I know, I’m tall, reasonable looking, and possess at least one good outfit and the aforementioned beautiful hair, but when it came to women, my experience was scant.

  There were a couple of reasons for this. Number one, I didn’t remember the vast majority of my life. Perhaps before waking naked next to a lake, I’d been a legendary lover in the Uncanny world. For all I knew, hundreds of women throughout history had considered me the finest sex person they’d ever lain with.

  You don’t know, it could be true.

  The other reason, is that for the chunk of my life I do remember—the last ten years—I’d spent much of it in love with Chloe, a doctor at the hospital I worked at. This unspoken love had stopped me considering much in the way of other options, and when we finally did get together, it turned out she was secretly an insane person who planned to lead an army of octopus-limbed soul vampires into battle against humanity.

  As I say. A patchy romantic history.

  I peered through the glass of the restaurant’s door to see Annie was already sat at the table I’d booked. I took three slow, deep breaths, straightened out my coat, checked my hair, then entered.

  ‘Hello!’

  I yelled the greeting in Annie’s direction, startling not just her, but everyone else in the place. Trying to ignore the glares of the rest of the eaters, I hastily made my way over to the table and took a seat.

  ‘Sorry, did I just shout really loudly?’ I asked.

  ‘You did a bit. And at quite a shrill pitch, too.’

  ‘Why, thank you,’ I said, which made her laugh. Okay, I hadn’t blown things already.

  Actually, that was a bit of an understatement. Not only had I not blown things, but what followed was one of the nicest hours I could remember experiencing in a long time. The nerves melted away within seconds and we spoke and ate and drank and laughed.

  So, yes, of course I was about to ruin things. This is me you’re dealing with here.

  Having paid a visit to the Gents, I exited the toilet cubicle and washed my hands. I’m not an animal. I gave myself a little wink in the mirror. ‘You’re doing good, kid,’ I told myself. Awful.

  ‘Swim down, Janto.’

  I jerked around, looking for the source of the voice, but I was alone. Well, apart from the faint smell of bleach and urine.

  ‘Swim down.’

  Of course I knew the voices. It was the two witches I’d murdered.

  ‘Where are you?’

  Previously I’d only heard them whilst asleep, I wondered if this was a bad sign.

  ‘Hello? Can you hear me?’

  ‘Swim down.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Why? Why do you keep saying that?’

  A movement in the mirror caught my eye. It was ripples. The glass was now the surface of the lake from my dream. I found myself moving closer to it, squinting, trying to see what was in the water.

  ‘Swim down.’

  It was an army.

  It was my army.

  An army of the dead, waiting for me at the bottom of the Dark Lakes.

  Waiting for my command.

  ‘
Swim down, Janto.’

  A hand shot from the mirror towards me and I stumbled back, yelping with surprise.

  ‘You alright mate?’

  I spun around to find a fellow diner had entered without me noticing. I looked back to the mirror, but that’s all it was again. No ripples, no water, no figures.

  ‘I said, are you alright?’ asked the concerned diner.

  ‘No. I mean yes, sorry.’ I patted my stomach theatrically. ‘Dodgy seafood playing havoc with my insides.’

  I glanced at the mirror again, and headed out of the bathroom, back to my table. Annie beamed up at me, then her face crumpled as she saw the expression on my face.

  ‘Hey, are you okay? What happened?’

  ‘What? Nothing. Fine. I’m fine.’

  Why was I lying to her? She knew weird stuff existed, she’d sold her soul to demons for God’s sake.

  ‘Would you like to see the dessert menu?’ asked the waiter.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can you give us a moment?’ said Annie.

  The waiter gave me a bit of side-eye, then smiled at Annie and left.

  What I’d seen in the bathroom I’d only ever experienced in my dreams, so why here, and why now? Was Annie being present in any way connected to the visions? If she was the kind of person who’d courted demons for most of her life, how did I know I could trust her? Maybe this was just Chloe all over again, only this time I’d actually seen the warning signs first. With Chloe it came out of the blue, but Annie… she’d already shown she was willing to mix with some pretty questionable sorts.

  ‘Joe?’

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘Are you okay, you’ve been staring at me with a strange look on your face for about a minute now.’

  ‘Those demons you used to sell your soul to…’

  ‘Yeah? What about them?’

  ‘Are you ever tempted to go back down that well and bargain for more stuff?’

  ‘What? Of course not. You know I wouldn’t, I have a daughter to think about now.’

  ‘Right. Of course.’

  My heart was hammering against my chest as I tried to decide whether she was in on it or not. In on whatever it was that was happening. Maybe she knew about all those dead farm animals too. I could feel sweat prickling on my forehead. Christ, was the room getting smaller? The walls were crowding in, trying to smother me. I grabbed my glass of beer and drank half in one go, my brain turning somersaults. Had I fallen for it again? Did I have another Chloe on my hands? Typical me, typical me. Eva was right, I was an idiot.