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

by David Bussell

  ‘Not sure what you’d call it. Basically his head sort of bubbled and bulged and them he was covered in mouths.’

  ‘Well that’s… odd,’ said Myers.

  ‘I agree. It is odd, isn’t it?’ I replied. ‘And then all of these tongues shot out of it, I almost died, but then I was very heroic and, some might say, macho, then I threw it out and chased it away.’

  ‘I’m going to put you in for a medal for bravery,’ said Myers.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Right. Of course not. I was just joining in with the joke, so… joke’s on you.’

  Myers arched an eyebrow.

  ‘So, monster spotted,’ I said, ‘and we’re looking for a monster. I say we have a suspect.’

  ‘Yeah, could be,’ said Eva. ‘If so, it was bust before dropping in on you.’

  ‘Another attack?’ I said.

  ‘Another attack,’ said Myers.

  Eva gestured and headed for the door.

  ‘Wait, I can’t leave, my window’s broken. Anyone could get in.’

  Eva turned and clicked her fingers. ‘There you go.’

  And the window was fixed, good as new.

  ‘Wow. How did you do that?’

  ‘I’m magic, idiot. I used magic.’

  ‘Makes sense. What about the TV?’

  ‘Sorry, magic’s used up.’

  ‘That’s not a thing, is it?’

  Eva shrugged and stepped out into the street.

  ‘Eva!’ I sagged and looked at the remains of my poor television set.

  ‘Myers, you don’t have a spare TV at your place, do you?’

  Myers walked out.

  12

  It seemed that whatever was behind the spate of animal slaughters, wasn’t slowing down.

  I followed Myers’ car to a farmhouse inhabited by Mr and Mrs Madden and their two young children. I parked up and jogged to catch up with Myers and Eva. Eva had decided to share Myers’ car for the journey there. She was being notably standoffish, even more so than usual. It was obvious that our relationship was on somewhat rocky terrain. I knew she had her reasons, very, very good reasons, for treating me poorly, but surely at some point that had to stop?

  This time there were two different crime scenes. The first was a barn located around the other side of the farmhouse. The barn used to contain thirty pigs, but now contained about a hundred pig chunks.

  But that’s not where we were headed. Because this time the killer had stepped up his game.

  Forensic officers wearing protective, white onesies were gathered around scene-of-crime floodlights, carefully collecting and logging evidence. Myers made sure we had the go-ahead to enter the farmhouse, and then in we went.

  There were three dead bodies in total.

  Mr Madden was the first to be found. He was in seven or eight pieces in the kitchen, his intestines pulled from his torso and draped across the dining table. The other two bodies were upstairs. The kids. Ally, six years old, and Toby, about to see his fourth birthday. Both now torn to bits and tossed around their bedrooms. I decided to take Myer’s word on that, I had no wish to see the broken and ripped apart bodies of two young children. I had enough nightmare fuel logged away from the last few months as it was.

  Mrs Madden had been the one to stumble across the scene, arriving home from watching a local play with her mum. I was happy she’d been taken elsewhere already. I didn’t want to see her eyes. The eyes of a mother who’d just discovered that her entire reason for being had been so brutally blown apart.

  I knew it would be pointless, but I tried my insight magic again, touching something that used to be part of Mr Madden. Just like with the sheep at the first crime scene, and the horses at the second, Mr Madden refused to give up his secrets. I moved from limb, to torso, to limb, but it was useless.

  ‘Oh Jesus, here come the bloody X-Files,’ said Detective Martins, Myers’ less-than-friendly partner, as he stepped into the kitchen.

  I quickly stood up from one of the piles of meat that used to be Mr Madden.

  ‘Martins, you knew I was bringing them in on this,’ said Myers.

  ‘Dead sheep, fine, but this is people,’ he replied. ‘This is kids,’

  ‘I’ve figured it out,’ said Eva.

  ‘Figured out what?’ asked Martins.

  ‘You’re ashamed because you secretly like to visit a dungeon where a big lad called Carl uses sandpaper on your balls, so acting like a twat helps you release the tension.’

  ‘I’m not gay,’ said Martins, snarling.

  ‘Martins, just step out for a few minutes,’ said Myers.

  ‘The mother’s down the station, she’s broken. And you bring in these… these frauds?’

  ‘You’re just going to have to trust me, Martins.’

  He looked at us, then leaned in closer to Myers. ‘First thing tomorrow, I’m asking for a new partner. You got that?’

  ‘As is your right, Detective,’ replied Myers.

  Martins threw a dirty look my way, then headed out.

  ‘Give my best to Carl,’ said Eva with a wave, but Martins didn’t look back.

  ‘Okay. Time to get serious,’ said Myers.

  ‘Always am,’ replied Eva. ‘Especially when it looks like I’m not.’

  ‘Whoever is behind this, Joe’s monster perhaps, is escalating things,’ said Myers. ‘Three attacks in the space of a week and now it’s attacking people, too. I see no reason to expect this bastard to slow down, let alone stop, so that means it’s up to us. This is clearly beyond what the police can handle.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Eva, ‘this is for us alright. This stinks of us.’ She picked up a severed hand out of the sink and gave it a sniff.

  ‘That is, at the very least, a bit disrespectful,’ I said, nose wrinkling.

  ‘I wish I gave a fuck,’ replied Eva, ‘but I have no fucks to give. Literally none. Tis a tragic story, but true.’

  ‘Okay, well…’ Myers faltered and grabbed her head.

  ‘Maya? Are you okay?’ I asked.

  She shook her head, trying to clear it. ‘My head, it’s....’ She faltered, her knees giving way as she leaned on the blood-splattered table for support.

  ‘Whoa, let me help,’ I said, scampering forward to help her into a chair.

  ‘It’s okay, I’m fine,’ said Myers, shrugging me off.

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘I told you, I’m fine!’ It was the last thing she said before her eyes rolled back into her head and she crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

  It seemed like I was becoming something of a fixture at Carlisle Hospital. Even when I wasn’t working a shift, I was there. A few weeks ago I was visiting Annie, and now here I was, sat at Myers’ bedside. She was unconscious still. The doctors had run various tests over the last few hours, but so far all they knew for sure was that she wasn’t conscious. Not the most enlightening of discoveries, really.

  She’d been filed away in a private room whilst the doctors tried to make head or tail of what was happening. I reached out and placed my hand over hers. ‘Detective Myers? Maya, can you hear me?’

  I pulled in the magic of the room and attempted to use it to reach her, to speak to her unconscious mind, to wake her up even. Of course I had no idea how to do any of that, or if it was even possible, and so failed miserably.

  The doctors had said not to worry, that she was stable, that she was, to all intents and purposes, “Fine”. I looked at the deathly-still Myers, her breathing barely perceptible, and decided I was going to worry as much as I wanted to. People don’t just lapse into unconsciousness for no reason.

  I couldn’t help but feel a little suspicion itch at me. That perhaps this was connected to the murders somehow. Could whatever had happened at the Madden’s Farm have somehow affected her? Even as I thought that, I recalled the only other times I’d seen her affected, the only other times I’d heard her complain about her head. They’d all been at the crime scenes.

  There was
a clear chain there. Three crime scenes, three strange turns. Perhaps something about the crime scenes, something in the air, had reacted badly with her. If an Uncanny thing was behind it, if it was whatever Paul Travers turned into, perhaps some trace of it had affected Myers, but no one else. Like how most of us could munch down peanuts all day long, but for others, that would be as good as a death sentence.

  That could be something, yes? I wasn’t sure quite what, but it was possible. It felt important.

  Or maybe Myers, in a completely unconnected way, was just suffering from a spate of ordinary migraines.

  One of the two.

  Something that was very clear to me though, was the fact that this life of mine was dangerous. People got hurt, people died. Detective Sam Samm, Chloe, and now even the unflappable Detective Myers was laid low.

  I thought about Annie and our burgeoning romance—about the fact that she was a mother to a little girl—and found myself starting to worry.

  ‘D’you know the vending machine in this place doesn’t have any alcohol?’ said Eva, entering the room and flopping onto the foot of Maya’s bed with a bounce.

  ‘Hospitals don’t tend to have an extensive stock of inebriating beverages,’ I replied.

  ‘I know. I mean, what fucking century is this? Get with the times! I don’t know, maybe there’s a suggestion box nearby...’

  We sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound the beep-beep of Myers’ heart monitor.

  ‘I’ve been thinking things over,’ I said.

  ‘Haven’t I warned you about trying to use that lump between your ears? It’s not meant for anything more complicated than remembering names and how to tie your laces.’

  ‘It’s about Myers and the murders.’

  ‘You’ve been thinking there might be a connection between the crime scenes and P.C. Plod’s current condition.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ I admitted.

  ‘Wow, consider me blown away by your Sherlock Holmes level of insight that I no way put together several hours ago.’

  ‘You don’t have to be an arse about it.’

  ‘I think we both know that’s not true. Come on then, they fucked with one of ours, let’s get to work.’ Eva stood and patted Maya’s foot. ‘Don’t be a dick and die while we’re gone, eh?’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Your transforming man, he told you where he’s from, right?’

  I thought back. ‘Oh, oh! Combe Village!’

  ‘Give that monkey a lemon.’

  ‘That’s not a saying.’

  Eva ignored me and headed out the door. As I followed, I glanced back at Myers, still and silent, and hoped.

  13

  The beautiful scenery of the Lake District rolled past the window as I steered the Uncanny Wagon towards Combe.

  As I gazed at the hills, at the blanket of fields stretching out in all directions, I wondered how anyone could confine themselves to a big city. To those closed off, smog-filled, man-made places, cut off from the natural world. Living elbow to elbow with millions of people, and yet somehow more isolated because of it.

  Okay, perhaps the people around here could be a little on the, uh, let’s be generous and say “old-fashioned” side, but one breath of the crisp, clean air and you know this is exactly where you belong. That this is the way human beings are meant to live.

  Still, the majesty of the landscape was lost on Eva, who I could see in the rearview, eyes closed and stretched out across the back seats like usual.

  ‘Are you awake?’ I asked.

  ‘Nope. Very much asleep.’

  ‘There’s a woman,’ I said. ‘A woman that’s interested in me. Romantically.’

  ‘Sounds like a nut case to me. I’d steer well clear if I were you.’

  ‘Hilarious. It’s just, I’m worried.’

  Eva sighed and sat up, pulling out her tobacco tin and starting to roll herself a fresh smoke. ‘Okay, I sense you’re not going to allow me to relax in solitude back here, so get on with it.’

  ‘You are so caring, has anyone ever told you that?’

  ‘No, but one man did once describe me as, “That fuck who tore off my balls and dropped them down a well,” so maybe watch your mouth.’

  ‘Okay. Well, I was telling you about her the other day, remember?’

  ‘Absolutely. Chloe.’

  ‘No! That was…’ I sighed and felt as though I might get a headache at any second. ‘She’s called Annie.’

  ‘Oh right, yup.’

  ‘We may or may not find ourselves in a boy-girl relationship at some point, complete with naked times.’

  ‘Oh, christ, just the idea of you naked...’

  ‘Cheers. Anyway, I was sat looking at Myers back there, and thinking about the kind of world we move in, and, well... Annie has a daughter. A little girl.’

  ‘And you’re wondering if it’s too dangerous to involve them in your life. If there’s any way to keep them safe as you don’t want to be the cause of any pain, or to be the reason they find themselves being torn to pieces by some bastard with giant teeth.’

  ‘Yes. Basically. I mean, is it even worth me trying to have a relationship, or is it selfish, because I’m putting them in danger?’

  Eva clicked her fingers and the end of her fag ignited. I’d seen her do it maybe a thousand times by now, but it still impressed me.

  ‘Well, I’ve got good news, turd.’

  I sat up straighter, a smile on my face. ‘What? What is it?’

  ‘There is no way to make sure they’re safe, because they won’t be safe, and the best thing you can do is stay the hell away from romantic entanglements and get used to a monastic life of self abuse.’

  ‘How is that good news?’ I cried.

  ‘It’s not good news for you, but it is for the female population at large.’

  I grumped and fantasised about tossing a little fireball into the back seat. ‘You know, I do possess human feelings?’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, that’s what makes it so much fun,’ she replied, then stretched out again, a smug look on her face, as I zipped my lips and concentrated on finding my way to Combe.

  The village Paul Travers lived in was a slight affair. It was really more of a hamlet than a village in fact, though it did feature a small church at its centre.

  I parked up and we stepped out to survey the sleepy-looking place. We were presented with a village green surrounded by a gaggle of old buildings. Little, detached homes with ordered front gardens. Combe was the sort of place that hadn’t seen any redevelopments since the Seventies, not that the few residents who lived there minded. It was a place where time had stood still. A place whose inhabitants were keen to keep out as much of the modern world as possible.

  ‘Are you sensing anything?’ I asked Eva.

  ‘Oh yeah, I’m sensing something.’

  ‘Really? What is it?’

  ‘That I’m dangerously close to sobering up,’ Eva replied, pulling out a bottle of vodka and taking a hefty slug. ‘Jesus, close one.’

  ‘Detective Myers is in the hospital, in case you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘I don’t sense anything, okay? It’s a picture-perfect little shit-hovel, home to a gaggle of people no doubt losing the battle with gravity and father time, that’s all I’m getting so far.’

  An elderly woman shuffled past us, smiling. ‘Another beautiful day,’ she said.

  ‘Case in fucking point,’ said Eva.

  I smiled at the old woman, who seemed not to have heard Eva. ‘Hey, could you tell me which house a Mr Paul Travers lives at?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Paul Travers. He’s a friend of mine but I, uh, forgot where he lives.’

  ‘Very convincing,’ whispered Eva, giving me a withering thumbs-up. ‘Truly, Oscar worthy.’

  ‘Let me have a think,’ said the old woman, rubbing at her wispy chin. ‘Paul Travers you say?’

  ‘Yep, that’s the man.’

  ‘No. I’m afraid the name doesn’t ring a b
ell.’

  ‘Oh. Really?’

  ‘Though I am getting on a bit.’

  ‘Really,’ said Eva, ‘you don’t look a day over should-be-dead.’

  ‘I do have trouble remembering names. Oh,’ she said, waving over another local, a short, bald, portly gentleman with a pug nose.

  ‘Hey there, Dot,’ he said, patting his stomach.

  ‘Arthur, these two are after a… who was it again, dear?’

  ‘Paul Travers. He lives here in Combe.’

  ‘Does he now?’ replied the man. ‘First I’ve heard of him, and I’ve been here close to forty years.’

  ‘You’ve both been very, very, massively helpful,’ said Eva.

  ‘Cheerio,’ said the old woman, and the two of them wandered off.

  ‘Well, that’s odd,’ I said. ‘He definitely said he was from Combe, what reason would he have to lie?’

  ‘He wasn’t lying,’ said Eva.

  ‘What? How do you know?’

  ‘Because those two were. I could practically taste it. Something very weird is going on in this place.’

  I flashed back to when Paul Travers had visited my flat and tried to kill me. Something he’d said before he changed trickled back into my conscious memory. ‘All of them!’ I clapped my hands.

  ‘What?’ said Eva.

  I levered Eva around so our backs were to Dot and Arthur, who’d turned to look at us again.

  ‘Paul, when he came to see me, he was babbling, but he did say the whole place was part of it.’

  ‘A conspiracy?’

  ‘I nodded, ‘Could be, right?’

  ‘Ooh, I like that. Paranoia. Trust no one. Body Snatchers. The original version, or the 70s one, the other ones not so much. Definitely not the Nicole Kidman one. Nothing against her, but that film really shit the bed.’

  ‘A cult?’ I asked.

  ‘It definitely has cult vibes. Potential animal and people sacrifice and everything.’

  ‘Seems a bit samey,’ I replied. ‘We only took down that undead cult a month ago. And by “we”, I mean “me”, with that brilliant plan I put together and executed myself.’

  ‘You do the right thing once and look at how your head swells.’