A Three-Book Collection

by M. V. Stott

  As one, the wolves, Magda’s family, surged towards the wizards, and the cave became awash with screams and blood.

  Magda thought that a very fine thing.

  In time, the only wizards would be dead wizards.

  29

  It was fair to say that Rita Hobbes had not expected to see her ex-partner and best friend Dan Waterson again. At the very least, she hadn’t expected to see him walking and talking. The last time she’d seen him he was being placed in a body bag and placed into the back of an ambulance, dead. Dead at the hands—and sword—of their boss, DCI Jenner.

  ‘Waters?’ Rita cried. ‘What’s happening?’

  Rita could see where she was, what she was doing, but she was not in control of herself. She could see through the windscreen of her car as she drove it through Blackpool towards who knew where. It felt like she was very much a passenger inside of her own body. Waterson was in there with her. He was the one with his hands on the wheel.

  ‘Waters, talk to me.’

  ‘You know I hate being called Waters, Rita.’

  ‘There he is! How’s it going, pal?’

  ‘Not great. I’m dead.’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry. Partly my fault.’

  ‘Partly?’

  ‘Hey, I didn’t know what was going to happen. I haven’t exactly been in control of any of this shit, you know. Did I mention the whole wizards, monsters and hex thing?’

  ‘You always did drop me in the shit, Rita.’

  She laughed. ‘So you’re a ghost? What’s that like?’

  ‘So far, so terrible. Dying for a smoke, too. Well, not dying, what with the fact that I’m already dead.’

  ‘But you were doing so well with the vaping...’

  ‘I’m dead,’ said Waterson. ‘I think I can go back to the hard stuff.’

  ‘Did you see Heaven?’ asked Rita.

  ‘No. Saw the inside of a morgue. Bit grim. Oh, I did meet an angel though.’

  That made Rita’s ears prick up, or at least it would have done if she’d have had any control over her body.

  ‘The most beautiful person ever, ever, sat in a glass cube under the sea, right?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  The car pulled to a stop on a residential street. Two facing rows of terraced houses. Rita recognised the street. Gemma Wheeler, the woman she’d rescued from being sacrificed by Jenner, lived on this street. It suddenly became quite clear what was happening.

  ‘Don’t do it, Dan,’ she said.

  ‘Do you think I have any choice in the matter? It’s that bloody angel, who has nothing but bad things to say about you, by the way. Not all of them entirely inaccurate.’

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Sorry, did you or did you not say you were partly to blame for my murder?’

  ‘Yeah, okay. You’ve got me there.’

  ‘Tell me you can stop this, Rita. Please.’

  Rita strained to regain control of herself, but not only could she not find a ledge to cling on to, she couldn’t even find her fingers to cling on to it.

  ‘You have to fight it, Waters. Fight Its control over you.’

  ‘Oh, great, hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘You know I’ve missed these little back and forths of ours.’

  ‘Rita, focus, we’re about to go and murder a woman with an axe.’

  So the Angel was using Dan to finish off the sacrifices. Made sense. Easier to just shove Dan into her to pilot her around, to complete the sacrifices with the axe, than to try and free Jenner.

  ‘Are you in control of yourself at all,’ asked Rita. ‘Even a little?’

  ‘I can speak, I can say what I want, but that’s it. The rest is just sort of happening. I’ve no idea how I was even able to step inside you and move you around like this. It was just natural. Like muscle memory.’

  They got out of the car, Gemma’s house was on the opposite side.

  ‘Try and get me back in the car and drive away,’ said Rita.

  ‘Okay.’ They walked away from the car and crossed the road. ‘Didn’t work. So the Guv was the bad guy,’ said Waterson. ‘I didn’t see that one coming.’

  ‘No, I don’t think anyone did.’

  ‘Where is he?’ Waterson asked.

  ‘Locked up, sort of. Alive. Off his rocker.’

  There was a car parked up outside Gemma Wheeler’s house. Two very bored uniformed officers were sat inside, listening to Capital FM. It was still only days since Gemma had been found, and the local police had no idea that the person responsible for taking her—for taking the other women too—was safely locked up in a dreamscape prison. So the officers were there to keep an eye on her, make sure whoever was behind her abduction didn’t turn up to try again. Unfortunately for these two officers, Dan Waterson, a ghost who they wouldn’t have been able to see, was inside Rita Hobbes, a hexed detective who they also couldn’t see. They don’t teach that in basic training.

  Rita and Waterson were about to go inside Gemma Wheeler’s house and finish what DCI Alexander Jenner had started. They made their way down a side alley and began climbing back fences until they found themselves in the back garden of Gemma Wheeler’s house.

  ‘I wonder what it’s like back at the station,’ said Waterson.

  ‘Must be insane.’

  ‘I’m dead, the Guv gone, they’ve no idea what happened to him, or that he was really a crazy piece of shit.’

  They shoved the blade of the axe into the crack between the back door and the doorframe and levered it open, wood splintering.

  ‘Okay, no more messing around, Waters, we have to stop this.’

  ‘I’m trying, but I’ve no idea how to even go about it. I’m in automatic.’

  Gemma Wheeler was in her bedroom. They found her sitting up, reaching for her mobile phone. They swung the axe and Gemma screamed, leaping back, the phone tumbling to the floor.

  ‘Rita?’ screamed Gemma, her face a mask of shock. ‘What…? What’s happening?’

  ‘It’s okay, don’t worry, I’m going to stop this,’ was Rita’s reply, but the words didn’t come out. Only she and Waterson heard them.

  ‘I don’t think you are going to stop it,’ said Waterson.

  ‘Just try!’

  ‘What do you think I’m doing?’

  It was going to happen. They were going to murder Gemma Wheeler. Just back from the hospital and they were going to strike her down with the axe, which would then absorb her soul, trapping it with the others already inside. With Jane Bowan and Ellie Mason.

  They stepped forward, the axe raised, as Gemma Wheeler opened her mouth to scream, but the sound never came out. Instead she looked past Rita-Dan to the man standing behind them.

  ‘My, my, what a fortuitous moment for my return.’

  They turned to see a tall, narrow, pale-skinned man in a long purple coat.

  ‘Carlisle!’ said Rita, not that he heard her.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ demanded Gemma Wheeler.

  ‘This does not concern you,’ said Carlisle, who clapped his hands together, whispered a word under his breath, and thrust his hand into Rita’s chest.

  ‘What-what-what-are you doing to—?’ said Rita Hobbes and Dan Waterson as ice blade fingers dug and probed and latched on to what was inside.

  ‘There you are,’ said Carlisle, yanking his arm back and pulling the deceased Dan Waterson with him.

  Rita staggered back, the axe slipping from her fingers.

  ‘Shit… how… I’m back!’

  ‘So, did you miss me?’ said Carlisle, grinning.

  Magda perched atop a pile of dead bodies inside the wizards’ meeting place as her wolves gnawed at the remains.

  She looked down at them, their fur matted with the blood of the dead, and she laughed. She could feel the magic she had feasted upon surging through her. More and more she ate and the power, the connection to the Uncanny that her kind had been barred from for so long, strengthened. It was true that the price she paid for such magic was
her soul, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was this: stopping the wizards. Freeing her kind from fear. Avenging her slaughtered family.

  The moon was full, the wizards were dead, and Magda was ready to step out of the shadows.

  30

  Carlisle was not a fan of hugging. In fact, as Rita hugged him, Carlisle tried very hard not to shove his fist through her chest again, this time to rip out her heart.

  ‘You came back!’ cried Rita.

  ‘No, this is all a dream,’ he replied with disdain before untangling himself from her.

  ‘Sorry, bit overexcited. That was good timing on your part, otherwise I was totally going to twat Gemma with the axe.’

  Gemma Wheeler was cowering, aghast, against the far wall, not entirely sure what was going on or if she was or wasn’t in any immediate danger.

  ‘You may unclench, Gemma Wheeler,’ said Carlisle, ‘you are out of the woods.’

  ‘Oh. Good.’

  ‘For now.’

  ‘Not as good.’ Gemma shuffled forward timidly to look at the ghost of Dan Waterson, who was currently curled up on the floor within a chalk circle Carlisle had swiftly sketched there to contain him. Gemma had seen the strange pasty man shove his fist into Rita, who for some reason had been about to murder her, and pull out this second person. This second person who she suddenly realised she recognised.

  ‘Wait, that’s… that’s the other copper, the detective who came to the hospital to see me.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Rita, ‘that there is Dan Waterson, my ex-partner. Professional, obviously, I wouldn’t touch him with yours.’

  ‘Right. Didn’t I read about him getting murdered on the beach a few days back?’

  ‘Yeah, partly my fault, that.’

  ‘Okay. So he’s a… ghost?’

  ‘A ghost that was being controlled to use me and finish off what the Magician had going on with you and the other kidnapped women.’

  Gemma slowly sat down to catch her breath, and to try and stop herself from either breaking out into hysterical laughter or hysterical tears.

  ‘Here,’ said Carlisle, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, bull-shaped charm.

  ‘What’s this for?’ asked Gemma, taking the charm.

  ‘Keep that on you, always. If you are ever in similar peril, it will alert me.’

  ‘Aw,’ said Rita, ‘you’re a secret softie, aren’t you, Carlisle?’

  ‘Call me that again and I will remove your jaw.’

  Rita grinned at him in a way that made Carlisle clench his teeth, only not to smile back.

  ‘So,’ said Rita, turning to look at Waterson in his chalk circle holding pen, ‘ghosts can be unconscious?’

  ‘Ah, how I have missed those razor-sharp deductive powers, Detective.’

  Rita tapped her head, ‘Not just a hat stand, mate.’

  ‘Oh, good grief.’ Carlisle crouched by Waterson’s prone body, sniffing. ‘Hexed.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Rita, ‘by you know who, too.’

  ‘What just happened?’ asked Waterson, his eyes flickering open.

  ‘Waters! Welcome back to the land of the living. Sorry, that was probably offensive considering the fact you’re… hello!’

  Waterson stood groggily and attempted to step forward, only to find he was unable to move past the boundary of the chalk circle.

  ‘You will remain in there, ghost, until I either find a way to break the Angel’s control over you, or, preferably, and quicker, I just destroy you utterly.’

  ‘I’m leaning towards the first option, if I’m honest,’ replied Waterson.

  ‘Option one sounds good to me, too,’ said Rita.

  Carlisle opened his hand and tendrils of colour, ribbons of magic, began to swirl around it. ‘I have no idea how the hex was rendered, it really would be easier just to destroy him.’

  ‘Sword!’ said Waterson.

  ‘What about it?’ replied Carlisle.

  ‘The Angel thing, It said that was how it was done. The sword the Guv stuck me with had magic words carved into it or something, and that did it. That hexed me up.’

  ‘There you go,’ said Rita, ‘no need for rough stuff.’

  Carlisle snorted and closed his hand, the magic fading from view. ‘We know how, but we do not know where the sword is. More than likely the Angel has it.’

  ‘Actually I saw it almost buried on the beach earlier,’ said Waterson.

  Carlisle sagged. All of this helping was really very tiresome. He thought back to when he squeezed the life out of the Monk, and that cheered him up some. ‘Okay, to the beach.’ He clicked his fingers as he walked out of the room, and the chalk circle began to slide across the floor, buffeting Waterson forward.

  ‘Oi, easy, not so fast!’

  Rita turned to the wide-eyed Gemma Wheeler. ‘You okay?’

  ‘No. Obviously. Not at all.’

  ‘Yeah, me neither.’

  ‘Is all this ever going to stop? Am I ever going to be safe?’

  Rita wanted to say something reassuring, but that would have been a lie. ‘Keep hold of that charm Pasty gave you. We’re doing our best.’

  Not sure what to do next, Rita patted Gemma on the head, instantly regretted it, then left.

  Carlisle refused to be a pig snuffling for truffles, and so it was left to Rita to search up and down the beach with a child’s abandoned plastic shovel, trying to locate the sword that Jenner had used to murder Waterson.

  ‘So,’ said Rita, ‘are you going to tell me what you’ve been up to while I’ve been battling werewolves?’

  Carlisle lowered his copy of Wuthering Heights, both eyebrows raised. ‘Werewolves?’

  ‘Oh, something you didn’t know, eh?’ replied Rita on her knees, scraping at the sand.

  ‘Actually,’ said Waterson, pointing up the beach, ‘I think it might have been a little further along.’

  Rita sighed, stood, and began scraping a few metres up. ‘Didn’t you notice the full moon that shouldn’t be a full moon?’

  Carlisle looked up at the moon and tutted. ‘So it is.’

  ‘No big deal. Just a master werewolf who’s able to do magic, which apparently they shouldn’t be able to do.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘She’s here offing wizards and turning non-wizards left right and centre. It’s been a bit hectic.’

  ‘Hm. Werewolves can be tricky,’ replied Carlisle, his attention drifting back to his book.

  ‘Ooh, is that it?’ Asked Waterson, pointing.

  Rita pulled out a stick from the sand. ‘Pretty sure it’s not,’ she replied, tossing the piece of driftwood aside.

  ‘If you must know,’ said Carlisle, ‘I went in search of an angel killer, as I said I would.’

  Rita paused in her search. ‘Did you find one? Please tell me you found one.’

  Carlisle smiled. ‘I do believe I have.’

  ‘Well that’s… that’s amazing!’

  ‘Yes. I am amazing.’

  ‘I never said you were.’

  ‘The implication was clear.’

  The plastic spade struck something solid. Rita dug and scraped until shiny metal was revealed. ‘Got it!’ She grabbed hold of the sword and yanked it free of the damp, compacted sand.

  ‘That’s it!’ said Waterson.

  Carlisle closed his book and stood, waving Rita forward. She scuttled over and handed him the sword. Carlisle stroked the blade, running his fingers across the words and shapes that had been carved into it. ‘Exquisite work,’ he said.

  ‘So, what now?’ asked Waterson.

  ‘Now this,’ replied Carlisle, as his hands erupted with a white hot glow and the sword turned to a puddle at his feet.

  ‘That’s it?’ asked Rita. ‘Is Waters okay now? Is he free of the Angel?’

  Carlisle scuffed at the chalk circle, breaking it, and Waterson stepped warily out.

  ‘So?’ said Rita. ‘How do you feel? Any urge to get inside me again?’

  Waterson raised an
eyebrow. ‘Get inside you? I wouldn’t touch you with his, mate.’

  ‘Is this really the time for innuendo?’ asked Rita.

  ‘Ach, you’re no fun.’ He considered Rita’s question properly. ‘No, the urge is gone. I feel like myself again. Well, except dead, of course.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You are welcome, by the way,’ said Carlisle.

  ‘Sorry,’ replied Waterson, ‘just, you know, still being dead, it’s hard to get too jolly. So what happens now? Do I go to Heaven or something?’

  Carlisle shrugged. ‘You missed your initial window due to the hex. Perhaps you will be called at some point, perhaps you will be cursed to remain here, in this dreadful place.’ He shuddered. ‘In Blackpool.’

  Rita saw Waterson crumple a little. ‘Hey, it’s okay. So maybe you’ll be staying for a bit, we can be partners again! Rita and Waterson, best buddies, right?’ Rita went to pat Waterson on the shoulder, but her hand passed right through him. ‘Well, you get the idea.’

  ‘If you would excuse me,’ said Carlisle, ‘I have an Angel to murder.’

  ‘Okay, let’s go and bash that twat up,’ said Rita.

  ‘No, you can stay here.’

  ‘I appreciate the concern, but this is my life It’s messing with.’

  ‘Concern? You have my artefact. The artefact the Angel desires. The artefact I intend to possess again very soon. I would prefer you and it stay as far from the Angel as possible.’

  ‘It’s okay if you’re worried about me, Pasty.’

  Carlisle sighed and wondered if it would be so very bad if things went wrong and he was finally killed for good.

  ‘Oh, by the way, can I maybe leech a bit of your magic?’ said Rita, waggling the axe.

  ‘You most certainly may not.’

  ‘Oh come on, you heard me mention all the werewolves, right? Well, this thing is useless against them. I even touch one of them and it starts trying to turn me into a big murder dog.’

  ‘You are not a quick learner, are you?’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Waterson, ‘I almost went mad trying to show her how the new coffee machine at the station worked.’