Turned: An Uncanny Kingdom Urban Fantasy (Branded Book 2)

by David Bussell

  ‘Not sleeping exactly,’ Gen replied, twisting the wheel and blasting the beamer through a set of red lights. ‘More like a deep coma. A chrysalis stage before a human goes from being alive to undead.’

  ‘I don’t get it. Why did you tell me he was dead then?’

  ‘Because we thought he was dead. Only the most powerful, pre-plague vampires can cause a state of hibernation like that, and as far as we knew, we’d driven those from the city years ago.’

  So Lauden was old. Really, really old.

  ‘Okay, Neil didn’t die, he just slipped into a coma and now he’s waking up? That’s good, right?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘What do you mean, probably? What did you do with him?’

  ‘We buried him.’

  ‘Where?’

  The car smashed through a rusty chain link fence and I realised we were back at the industrial park already. Gen hit the brakes and we screeched to a halt in front of a decrepit, half-collapsed warehouse. The front of the building was decorated with a large, weather-beaten sign that read HAPPY HARRY’S TOY FACTORY in once cheerful colours, now stripped away by time.

  ‘Are you serious? You buried my boyfriend in a creepy doll factory?’

  ‘We didn’t want him to be disturbed.’

  She stepped out of the car and headed into the warehouse with me in tow.

  The roof of the building was rotted through and full of holes, as though God had taken exception to the place and hosed it down with machine gun fire. Inside, peering out at us from every angle of the large grey space, were lifeless glass eyes buried in dusty plastic faces. Dolls; hundreds of them. Little girls with long synthetic hair, cracked features and petticoats made of mouldy lace. Little boys with curls and button down shirts, dressed like tiny funeral directors. A fucking horror show. No wonder the place went out of business.

  We weaved between water-damaged boxes full of assorted appendages, across scattered and disarticulated limbs, heads and torsos cracking under our feet like eggshells. Finally, we reached Neil’s resting place, a giant hole in the factory floor. From the looks of things, a couple of decades of water damage had caused part of the warehouse to subside, cracking the building open, right down to its foundations. At the bottom of the chasm was a patch of exposed earth that had been recently turned over. Also at the bottom of the hole was Vizael, who had a shovel in his hands and was in the process of digging.

  ‘I phoned ahead while you were getting dressed,’ Gen explained.

  I dropped into the hole beside Viz and wrapped my arms around his back. I was so happy to see the old man that the world turned blurry through my tears. ‘I’m sorry, Viz,’ I blubbed. ‘About the tower. About your books. About everything.’

  He smiled back at me. ‘It’s okay, Abbey, you can make it up to me by getting Neil out of there.’

  He didn’t need to ask me twice. I grabbed the shovel off him, sunk it into the ground, and wrenched a clod over my shoulder. The tool became a blur as I went at the task like a madwoman, sending great arcs of soil in every direction. Then—

  Snap.

  The shaft of the shovel broke in two, shearing right at the part that the metal met the wood, rendering it utterly useless.

  ‘No!’ I cried, but all was not lost.

  Gen leapt into the hole, dropped to her haunches, and started digging at the earth with her bare hands. ‘Are you going to help me or what?’ she asked.

  Snapped out of my momentary stupor, I fell to my knees and joined her, using my hands as shovels, tearing up frenzied fistfuls of earth. Viz did likewise, and the three of us worked together, clawing at the ground until the soil turned to clay, clawing until our muscles stung and our hands bled.

  My fingernails scraped against something solid and I swiped away a patch of earth to see wood hiding beneath. ‘This is it.’ I made a fist, cracked open the lid of the casket, and hauled a muslin-wrapped body from within. I set Neil down and tore the shroud from his face.

  The first thing I noticed was that the J had gone from his forehead. The second was that he wasn’t breathing. ‘Neil? Neil?’

  He lay there, inert, eyes fixed and vacant.

  Were we too late? We’d raised Neil from the dead, only to let him die again in the most grisly manner imaginable, buried alive. I beat my fists on his chest, not to perform CPR this time, just out of rage. It took both of the angels to tear me away. ‘I’m sorry, Neil,’ I sniffed, tears streaming down my face. ‘It’s all my fault.’ I tipped over backwards and fell on to my behind, sobbing like a baby.

  Then I felt a warmth, landing on the back of my head like a sympathetic hand. Only it wasn’t a person. Wasn’t a human’s comfort. I tilted my head to the sky and saw shafts of light pouring in through the holes in the warehouse roof. The sun had risen on a new day, hot and uncharacteristically bright. I turned to Viz and saw him beaming bright as the sun.

  ‘Look,’ he said, pointing to the floor.

  A lozenge of orange light had fallen across Neil’s face, bringing the colour back to his skin. As the morning light bathed him, a gasp escaped from his lips and I saw his chest begin to rise and fall.

  I scrambled over to him in disbelief. ‘Neil!’ He didn’t respond. I put my hands on his chest. ‘He’s breathing.’ I checked for a pulse and found a steady throb. ‘Neil?’ I turned to Gen. ‘Why isn’t he answering me?’

  She smiled. ‘Give him a chance, he just came back from the dead.’

  ‘You don’t know. What if he’s just in another coma?’

  ‘He’s fine, I can tell from his aura. Trust me, all he needs is some rest.’

  I leapt to my feet like my legs were spring-loaded. ‘It’s a fucking miracle!’ I screamed, grabbing Viz in a bear hug and lifting him off the floor.

  Viz laughed. ‘Yes it is,’ he said. ‘It’s a fucking miracle. Now I don’t suppose you’d mind letting me go before you shatter the rest of my ribs.’

  Sorry,’ I replied, setting him down. ‘I just got excited.’

  He patted me on the back, still smiling, then turned around and began to haul himself out of the hole, heading back to the factory floor.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m going to go outside and say a prayer to God,’ he replied. ‘Whether He’s listening or not.’

  He gave me a final nod then departed.

  I grabbed Gen and the two of us clung to each other like a couple of drunks. ‘We did it,’ I said, planting a big wet smacker on her cheek. That close to her face, I noticed something. ‘Are you… are you crying?’

  ‘No,’ she insisted. ‘I have something in my eye.’

  ‘Both of your eyes?’

  She pushed me away playfully and wiped a sleeve across her face. ‘Shut up.’

  I took her by the hand. ‘I’m sorry I stopped trusting you. God, I was such an arsehole.’

  ‘It’s okay, I’m an angel, and we’re the queens of forgive and forget. But yes, you were an arsehole. You owe us a new base, too.’

  ‘No worries, I’m sure I’ve got something lying around.’

  She squeezed my hand and drew me close. ‘It’s good to have you back, Abbey.’

  I heard a cough. ‘Well, I don’t mind telling you,’ said a familiar voice, ‘I feel rubbish.’

  It was Neil. He was awake.

  ‘Holy shit, Neil, you’re alive!’

  ‘Right,’ he replied. ‘So why am I wearing a funeral shroud again?’

  I didn’t bother to explain, I just dropped to my knees and hugged him for all I was worth.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ I gushed, peppering kisses all over his face. ‘You’re actually alive. How do you feel? Are you in any pain?’

  ‘You know what, I actually feel pretty good considering… well, whatever happened to me.’

  We’d get to that, but before we did, I was going to let Neil know just how much he meant to me. I dipped my face to his, moving in for a kiss to end all kisses, but just as our lips were about to meet, he recoiled
.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

  Did he know? Did he know about Lauden and me? Could he sense it? Christ, please no.

  But no, that wasn’t it.

  Neil’s hands went to his chest. For a moment I thought he was having a heart attack, then the muslin shroud he was wearing started blooming red spots.

  ‘He’s bleeding,’ said Gen.

  I looked to Neil, who was just as surprised as we were. ‘What’s happening?’

  I tore open the fabric wrap and saw a red slash on his skin. A red slash that was quickly joined by a new one, which appeared magically, as if carved by some invisible claw. Another slash, then another, each of them just a few millimetres deep, but frightening in their purposefulness, terrible in their unstoppable design.

  ‘What the fuck is happening?’ Neil reiterated, terrified.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I screeched back, not knowing what to do, scared out of my wits.

  Together, the lines began to form a pattern, joining up like handwriting, and only once they’d stopped did I realise they formed a message.

  Neil lay there panting, chin pressed to his chest, trying to read the words carved into his flesh. ‘What does it say?’ he asked, wounded and scared, but alive.

  I read the message.

  It said BLOOD FOR BLOOD.

  I whirled around to Gen. ‘Blood for blood? What does that mean?’

  She enunciated her words carefully, dropping each of them like a rock. ‘It means you killed someone with a very powerful friend.’

  To Be Continued…

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  London Coven: Familiar Magic

  Here’s a SNEAK PEEK at the first London Coven book, another series set in the Uncanny Kingdom universe…

  Three butchered witches. An unknown killer. One sole survivor.

  Stella Familiar was created by the London Coven to protect the city from the monsters that lurk in the shadows. She’s fought off dark forces for decades, but now something new has come to town. Something that’s torn her world apart.

  1

  It was the absence of magic that first got me, hitting me like a punch to the stomach.

  As I stepped forward my legs actually shook a little, like they might give way and drop me to the ground. So much for the seen-it-all, jaded, powerful Familiar.

  My name is Stella, I belonged to the London Coven as the Familiar to a trio of witches, and I’d just arrived back to find the door hanging off its hinges. After discovering this, I’d just stood looking at the thing for a few seconds, confused. It was impossible. It couldn’t be. And yet there it stubbornly was.

  The entrance to the coven itself sits in Hammersmith, west London; just a few streets away from the underground station. It’s situated down a blind alley, so called because only those who know it exists can actually see it. A simple but very effective bit of perception magic that makes the alley invisible to most, even when looking directly at it.

  Let’s get back to that impossible lack of magic.

  It assaulted my senses like a rancid smell. Like meat gone bad. The coven and the blind alley that led to its door should be noisy with magic. Alive with boiling, agitated power. It was home to my masters, Kala, Trin, & Feal, the most powerful witches in England, and every inch of the place was infused with magic, old and new, black and white. On top of that, there were the spells of protection. Thousands of them. Anyone that wasn’t meant to be there could find themselves stepping into a patch of superheated air that would melt the flesh from their bones. Or perhaps they’d blink and, just before their heart gave out, they’d find themselves confused as their eyes opened one last time to see their insides were now on the outside. There were any number of ways it could happen. Any number of creative deaths to discover. The coven was locked up tight, it had to be. It was impossible for anything to step inside that wasn’t invited. And yet…

  The door—

  The lack of magic—

  I swallowed hard and ducked through the gap created by the half-off door, straightening up slowly on the other side.

  The place was dead.

  There wasn’t a whisper of magic to be heard. To be felt. Tasted.

  It was impossible.

  I know I keep using that word, but it was true.

  Every building, every street, every hill and river and grain of sand contains some residue of magic. It’s all around us every day. Even if this place hadn’t been a coven, hadn’t housed three of the most powerful magical creatures in the country, the very fact of its existence meant it should emit traces of the Uncanny.

  But there was nothing.

  I reached out with all of my senses, desperate for anything. For a ghost of some ancient incantation.

  I came up empty and it terrified me.

  ‘Kala? Trin...?’

  Silence.

  I stepped into the first room; it was empty but there were signs of a struggle. ‘Kala?’ Chairs on their sides, broken glass on wooden floorboards. The coven smelt the same despite the lack of magic; that weird mix of cinnamon, freshly cut grass, and lavender that seemed to permanently drift around the place, no matter which potion was cooked up or meal was prepared. The smell of my master’s witchcraft. I turned back and stepped into the hallway again.

  ‘Intruder, my name is Stella Familiar and you will show yourself or I… or I will…’

  I pressed a palm against the wall to steady myself and swallowed, throat dry. The emptiness was getting to me, giving me the shakes. All magical beings are connected to the power that radiates from all things. They feed a little on the magic that naturally occurs, and I was no different. I soaked it in, night and day, without even thinking about it. It sustained me, made me stronger, gave me the energy to cast spells, and, for want of a better word, gave me a ‘buzz’. But now, in this place, in this empty coven, I was like a junkie who’d suddenly gone cold turkey after a lifetime of indulgence.

  And it hurt.

  It was actually disturbing to me how quickly I was affected. A minute had passed, tops, and I was a shaking, sweaty wreck.

  I grunted, straightened up, and tried to get my shit together.

  ‘Intruder, my name is Stella Familiar and you will damn well show yourself to me for punishment!’ The words roared out of my mouth with a strength I really didn’t feel.

  There was no reply.

  I placed a hand on the door to the main coven room and pushed.

  I tasted death before I saw it.

  That coppery tang on the tongue that twisted my stomach and told me exactly what I was going to see before my eyes had chance to catch up.

  There were three bodies on the floor inside. Three bodies, but more than three pieces. Kala, Trin, Feal, my masters, my coven’s high witches, had been torn to pieces and scattered around the room.

  Eyes wide, hand to my mouth, I stepped inside.

  ‘No…’

  The world had gone mad.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Nothing was capable of doing this to the witches of the London Coven. Together, the three of them wielded enough power to crack open mountains, and yet my shoes were now soaking in a pool of their collective blood.

  I crouched and placed a hand on a hunk of meat that could have once belonged to any one of my masters. It, like the coven itself, was empty. Not just of life, but of magic. Of power. Som
ething had broken into a place it was impossible to break into, survived the magical protections it was impossible to survive, and torn to…

  …and murdered my masters. Murdered creatures of immeasurable power. And then, to finish things off, they’d drained every last drop of magic from the place.

  It was impossible on top of impossible on top of impossible and it made me tremble.

  I stood, angry. Angry that I’d allowed fear to infect me. I cradled that anger and blew upon it, igniting it like the first spark of a new fire. It didn’t matter that this was impossible, it had happened. It didn’t matter that the kind of power needed to have even achieved one of the impossible things done to this coven would be enough to turn me into a puddle of bubbling goo.

  None of it mattered.

  All that mattered was that the coven was breached and my creators had been murdered as though they were nothing. As though they were less than nothing. They’d been ripped and shredded and tossed aside. My nails dug into my palms and drew blood, but I didn’t flinch. It felt good.

  I was going to find out who was behind this and do something impossible myself.

  I was going to get bloody, horrifying revenge.

  I was nothing but a lowly Familiar, but I swore on every spell I knew that I was going to avenge my slaughtered coven.

  ‘Listen to me. Listen closely. You’ve made a terrible mistake. You’ve made a terrible mistake and you don’t even realise it. My name is Stella Familiar, and what’s happened here today will be met with fury like you could never even imagine. Do you hear me? I know you can. Whoever did this, I will find you, and when I do, I will rip your heart from your chest!’

  A noise—

  A movement in the corner of my eye—

  I whirled and caught sight of something my mind couldn’t quite pin down.