Dark Lakes, Volume One: An Uncanny Kingdom Urban Fantasy (A Dark Lakes Collection Book 1)

by Matthew Stott

‘That is true, yes.’

  ‘Don’t see a whole lot of eagle action around here.’

  ‘Yeah. Weird, eh?’

  ‘Mm-hm. You know, this is not the first lady in distress you’ve brought into this hospital in the last few weeks. Couple that with the disappearance of poor Chloe, and people are going to talk.’

  ‘If you mean Doctor Neil there, then I think you are unfairly stretching the definition of “people”.’

  ‘Funny.’

  ‘Most people laugh when they find something funny.’

  ‘I will when it happens.’

  A fresh burn to join my recent coffee mishap.

  ‘All I’m saying, Joe, is to watch yourself. You know those police have your number. Don’t make them any more suspicious of you.’

  ‘Aw, I’m touched. Touched that you care about me, Big Marge.’

  ‘Well, I’d hate to have to go to the effort of finding a new mop boy. Not easy to find someone willing to clean up piss, shit, and vomit on the money this place pays you.’

  With that delightful conversation at an end, I went to find Annie, who was laying in a ward now with around ten other people. I approached her bed, pulled the curtain closed around us, and sat down beside her.

  ‘Sure you don’t want me to get you a coffee? Tea?’

  ‘No, I’m okay, they gave me water,’ she replied, nodding toward the plastic jug perched on the bedside table.

  ‘So, what‘s the verdict?’ I asked.

  ‘Just a few cuts and bruises mostly, nothing serious. Gave me a few stitches.’

  ‘Oh, good, great.’

  ‘They’re making me stay in overnight though, for observation. They said I must have bashed my head pretty hard, so they don’t want me going home yet.’

  ‘Better safe than sorry.’

  Annie nodded, then winced and put a hand to the bandage taped around her head.

  ‘So, assault by a cloud of angry, talking eagles,’ I said. ‘That’s a bit… weird.’

  ‘Just a bit. How did you get rid of them in the end?’

  ‘Oh, my car is pretty, you know, fast. I know it’s not much to look at, but that baby can move.’

  Annie’s face scrunched up for a moment, perhaps smelling the fresh poop I was spouting, before shrugging. ‘Okay. Lucky you were there, really, otherwise I’d be dead and they’d have me.’

  Ah, right, the whole selling her soul thing.

  ‘So you’re saying that those eagles were, what? The Devil?’

  ‘Yes. Well, maybe not the Devil exactly. Demons. I’ve spoken to a lot of different things over the years.’

  ‘Okay, let’s say I believe all of this “selling your soul” stuff.’

  ‘You should, it’s true.’

  ‘Eagle attack aside, I’ve seen a lot of strange things recently, so I’m going to take you at your word until I have a good reason not to. Now, why don’t you fill me in on all of the details.’

  Annie frowned and nodded, reaching over to the jug and pouring herself a plastic cup full, then taking a sip.

  ‘It all started a few days after my seventh birthday. We lived in a little farmhouse, not a neighbouring house in sight. I liked that. Liked to run wild around the land that surrounded us. Out the back of the house was an old stone well. It didn’t have a bucket or anything, and the opening was covered by wooden boards. My dad was always telling me to stay away from the thing, that it wasn’t safe, but I was seven and liked doing things my parents said I shouldn’t. So I would try to lift up the boards to see down into the well, and sometimes I’d climb up onto the boards and stomp my feet like I was tap dancing. One day, they were both out, and I climbed up onto the boards and I stamped and stomped and made a real racket. You can guess how that went. The wood gave way and then down I fell, into the bottom of the well.’

  ‘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 gi
ving 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 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 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.’