8: A gripping dark fantasy mystery

by Georgina Bartlett

  “He’s right, Amour. We can’t let them get to Doc or Madame Arbre, and we can’t go back. It’s just us now.” Mort joined the conversation, her horse a vision of something from a nightmare.

  “It’s always just been us, till someone took one of us,” Amour uttered, a tear sizzling down his cheek. “Let’s make some trouble, girl,” Amour whispered to his horse. She whinnied in response and turned around. “We’ll meet you at the lamp,” he called, and jumped from his stead, his hands fully alight. He ran into the woods to find trouble.

  “Should I follow him?” Mort asked as she whipped her head around to try and see Amour.

  “No. He needs to burn off some steam, and we need to keep moving. He’ll be okay,” Forrest replied, feeling the same anxiety Mort did.

  Forrest used his body as a shield for a wave of arrows that bounced off his back and his horse’s marble body.

  “Heads up!” Amour yelled as he tumbled through the air.

  Forrest and Mort glanced round to see his body come flying towards them and smash into a tree. He left a singe in the tree bark and struggled to stand. His horse flew around a corner towards him, its mane and tail whipping in the wind.

  “Amour!” Mort screamed and pulled her horse over to him.

  Forrest skidded to a stop and glanced back to check on them. As he did so, a hooded figure dropped from a tree and landed with a thump in front of them.

  “When did the King get new guards?” Mort asked as she helped Amour find his feet.

  “That’s not a guard, there’s two of them. I’ve never seen anything – like that!” Amour shouted as another figure emerged from the trees, its hood on fire. Its face could be seen, there was no nose, only two small holes and its mouth had been sewn shut. The creature had no eyelids. Its eyeballs rotated to look at them.

  “What the hell is that?” Forrest asked, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched.

  “Oh my god,” Doc cried as he stole a glance round Forrest’s arm. “Whatever they are, they’re something we haven’t faced before. Get out of there you two!” Doc called back, his white hands wrapping around Forrest’s black arm for support.

  “No way. We got this!” Amour yelled and dusted off his tunic.

  “We need to find the lamp that leads to the village. Both of you, follow me now!” Forrest shouted and kicked his horse into gear.

  Mort and Amour grimaced but followed his instruction and jumped on their beasts. As they caught up to him and flanked either side, Mort threw her head around and noticed the capes flying across the trees.

  “Look!” she yelled and pointed to either side of them.

  The creatures were throwing themselves forward on all fours across the trees horizontally. The monster, without its hood, kept its eyes on them as it crawled with speed.

  Mort brought in a thick white fog around them to hide from the onset of arrows. They tried to outrun them and the new nightmares. Amour threw fireballs behind him, knocking a few from their horses and leaving smoking corpses on the ground. He angled a few at the trees to try and hit the hooded monsters, but they were too quick.

  “Are we close? I’m not sure how much longer we can keep this up,” Amour protested.

  “Shouldn’t be much longer. Keep an eye out for the lamp,” Forrest replied, surveying the trees to find a small lantern that hung from a branch. It revealed the entrance to the village that housed the Atheneum tree.

  The last leg of their journey had been cut in half by their powerful steads, but they had no way to warn Madame Arbre of the coming attack. A bolt dashed in the wind and landed in the leg of Mort’s horse.

  “How dare they!” she whispered and grabbed the arrow from the mud and twigs that made up her beast.

  She held it in front of her, sneered, and turned up her nose at the piece of wood. With eyes as black as coal she focused all her energy into the arrow and snapped it. As she did so, four riders screamed in agony before they hit the floor, their backs broken. A smile took her lips as she heard them groan, throwing the splinter to the ground.

  “Forrest, left up ahead. The lamp, I see it,” Mort observed, her voice low, but carried on the wind to her brother.

  A small flame flickered inside a glass lamp with a dark metal case that hung from a large camphor, its branches twisted and warped.

  He nodded and turned his horse to head for the opening of trees, but as he did so, a flash of black dashed in front of him and tried to take out his horse. The marble creature kicked the monster away and slashed through the mud to get its bearings. As they came to a stop, Forrest saw the creature smash into Mort’s stallion, and she came flying off.

  “Mort!” he yelled and watched her thrash against the floor.

  The creature crawled along the dirt and tried to grab her, but a line of fire drew across the dirt and burned its grotesque skin. Amour leapt from his horse and helped his sister up.

  “Where’s the other one?” Amour asked and narrowed his eyes at the creature.

  “I can’t see it,” Forrest yelled, sweeping his eyes around the trees.

  In an instant, the unhooded figure jumped over the line towards them but stopped mid-air as thick roots that burst from the ground caught it. Forrest held his arms in a cross with his fists locked in front of him as the creature thrashed in his chains. Amour walked up and laid a hand on its bare foot that resembled a claw. His eyes reflected a fire that had already taken his hands and swept up to his hair, flowing in the wind. The creature watched as the fire climbed up its greasy skin and the smell of death consumed the air. Within a matter of seconds, a husk of coal fell to the floor, an eyeball still dancing around in the burnt head before it popped from the heat.

  “Did you see that?” Amour gushed, as he burrowed his brow and looked at his hands with a sly grin on his lips.

  “Yeah, good job. But where’s the second one?” Mort asked and kept her hands splayed out by her side.

  “No. I mean, it didn’t react. It didn’t scream. It just burned to death silently.” His grin faded and panic took its place.

  “Amour is right. Something is very wrong,” Forrest agreed, his horse beating its hooves in the ground. “Can you two hold them off?” he asked and dropped his chin to his chest.

  “Yeah, go. We got this,” Mort turned to look at him, her eyes black and the outline of her skull flashing through her pale skin.

  “I’ll ride ahead with Doc and warn Madame Arbre. Be safe,” he yelled behind him as his horse flew through the two trees that stood as pillars to the Atheneum tree.

  Mort and Amour called their horses, and both came running through the trees. Mort’s kicked a Palette Palace guard through the air that tried to get behind it. They both jumped to a standing position atop their stallions and got a better view of the woods. With fire in his eyes, Amour was ready to throw flames. Mort scrunched her hands into fists before throwing her palms open, releasing a dark mist that crept around the forest floor.

  “Rise,” she whispered.

  The fog enveloped the dead riders, their bodies shook and cracked as they stood, puppets under her control. New riders drew close, and the dead pawns threw themselves on the horses, wrestling the attackers from their stallions. Screams filled the woods as Harchers were face to face with their dead comrades, bones protruding through their skin. The few that made it through were taken down by Amour’s fire.

  Forrest and Doc flew through the air. The marble stallion left huge imprints in the earth. Rows of trees with various coloured doors on them came into view, along with a well in the middle that had Tincturians sat around as they waited to fill their buckets. They all started to stand and run as Forrest’s huge horse came into view.

  “Find Madame Arbre and tell her to get under cover,” Forrest told Doc. With no hesitation he stood atop his horse and somersaulted off. Twisting in the air he caught two arrows that flew to meet him. As he landed, he threw them back, both hitting a separate Harcher in the chest, their horses riderless as their bodies hit the floor.

&
nbsp; The marble horse didn’t slow as it delivered Doc into the middle of the settlement that sat around the well. The beast came to a stop, and he did all he could to not fall off. With great difficulty Doc slid off the steads back, and tried to find his legs, jelly from the endless riding. Tincturians ran to the centre to meet Doc, flustered and curious about the racket.

  “Madame Arbre, there are people here to kill Madame Arbre!” Doc yelled into the crowd. Two men built like houses nodded and ran ahead, waving for Doc to follow. He ran after them, his legs threatening to give way and his feet dragging along the dirt. The men stopped in front of a magnificent tree, branches streaming from every side and covered in green. A small lantern in the shape of an owl hung near a small yellow door sat in the middle of the thick trunk, partially open.

  “Grandma!” one of the men yelled through the door with a Bajan accent. With no response, the three of them entered. Doc lay his bag on a table near a pot of tea, steam filtering through the spout.

  “Where is she?” Doc gasped, out of breath.

  “I don’t know.” One of the men ran up the staircase but appeared a few moments later having found nothing in the rooms. “Oh god!” he screamed, and ran outside.

  Doc followed as the two men sprinted to a small square behind the tree. It was full of corn and beans, and seemed to be a personal allotment.

  “Grandma!” he yelled again, and a small head full of thick curly grey hair popped out.

  “Felix, is that you boy?” an older woman called with a thick Bajan accent.

  “Grandma, get out of the open!” the man who had been called Felix yelled. The old woman came forward. Small and frail, she wobbled towards them, a shawl that looked homemade wrapped around her coffee-coloured shoulders.

  “What are you talking about, boy?” she asked, a few feet from them now. A swish filled the air and before they could stop it, an arrow buried itself in her chest, the shooter hidden in the treeline.

  “No!” Doc called and ran over to her with her two grandsons. Felix grabbed her as she fell.

  “Doc!” Forrest shouted, running to meet him.

  “We’re here,” Doc mumbled, a lump in his throat. Forrest ran round the tree and found the three of them with Madame Arbre dead in her grandson’s arms. “We failed, Forrest. She’s gone.”

  He reached to touch her hand, tears filling his eyes. Her grandson tightened his grip, and he and his brother wept over their loved one.

  Dazed, Forrest fell to his knees. “We led them straight here. She’s dead because of us.”

  Eight

  The blossomed moon, high in the sky, pierced the stained glass of the Palette Palace and filled the main hall with a brilliant brown and turquoise colour. King Tinc sat in the centre of the room on his crystal throne, a large glass table in between him and one of his servants. A chess board made of clear quartz and crystal chess pieces sat atop it. King Tinc pinched the top of his knight with his pinkie finger in the air and pushed it across the board.

  “Open a window, boy,” the king demanded, and waved a tired hand at the servant.

  “Yes, my Lord,” he answered, and walked to the stained-glass wall. With the twist of an almost invisible latch, a small window opened in the glass. As the servant sat back down, a small robin flew through the window and landed on King Tinc’s armchair.

  “My Lord, I am happy to report that Madame Arbre has been silenced,” the bird told him while the servant only heard chirps.

  When the bird was finished, it dispersed into a pile of feathers atop the throne’s glass armchair. King Tinc brushed them aside and leaned forward with a smile before moving his Queen to the middle of the board, trapping his opponents King with the help of his Knight. “Checkmate.”

  Nine

  “Hey, Justine. Haven’t seen you around for a while,” an officer in uniform with a chiselled jaw and sun kissed skin said to her outside the police station.

  “Rick, hey. Yeah, I’ve just been really busy recently,” she lied and glanced to Ronnie, who looked uncomfortable.

  “Well, it’s good to see you,” Rick replied, his tone awkward as he exchanged a look with Ronnie.

  “Ok, yeah. See you later, Rick,” Ronnie grumbled, and led the way into the station.

  It was the middle of the day, Monday, but the police station was a buzz. A queue led to the door from the desk with a frazzled looking cop behind it, her cheeks red. Two blue benches that were usually empty had several people with their hands cuffed behind their backs sat on them. A few were covered in bruises. A woman with a black eye followed Justine as she walked behind Ronnie. On the other bench, a man was dangling off the seat unconscious, a string of drool hanging from his cheek to the floor.

  One floor up in the lift took them to the detective’s bullpen, six double-sided desks that were on the floor, each with an overworked man or woman behind them. Paperwork overflowed.

  “Well, the place hasn’t changed, apart from the huge influx of criminals. Are we in the middle of a crime spree? I’ve never seen it this busy, even on a full moon,” Justine commented, pointing to the holding cell full of offenders waiting to be processed.

  “It’s been like this for about a week. Apparently there’s something in the water,” Ronnie sighed, and pinched the top of her nose. “Look, J. I don’t know if it’s safe for you to be looking into this girl. I can talk to the detectives who were on the case and get them to take over.”

  “Ron, I love you. But please don’t do this.”

  “Do what?” Ronnie huffed.

  “Try to save me. I don’t need you to. I took this case and I plan to find Melody and get her back to her family.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Ronnie nagged, holding up her hands in defence as Justine crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “You charge into these cases and never think about your own safety. I worry about you. What would you have done today without me there?” She put her hand on Justine’s arm.

  Justine stepped back. “I had my taser. And I’m not helpless. I take self-defence classes and can handle myself just fine. If you want to help me, great, I’d like that. But this is my case and I’m the lead, got it?”

  Ronnie took a deep breath in and leaned against her desk. “Got it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, how can I help?”

  “I’m not sure, unless you have night vision, and you got a good look at the perp at the building site.” Justine chuckled and nibbled at her thumb nail.

  “Well I’m not a cyborg with night vision, but I do have cameras on my dashboard facing outwards, and my car was parked across the street. Maybe it got a shot of him,” Ronnie said and beamed at Justine.

  “I’ll grab us a coffee from across the street while you have a look.” Full of beans, Justine smiled.

  “Sounds good.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “No worries.” Ronnie flushed as she watched Justine walk away.

  ***

  “Ok, so this was a bust. I’m sorry.” Ronnie rubbed her eyes, and took a greedy sip of her latte.

  “No, it’s ok. It was a long shot. You can’t see him at all?”

  “No, here,” Ronnie insisted, and played the footage. “All you can see is a figure wearing a black suit running away from the building. But he never turns, and then goes out of sight.”

  “Hmm,” Justine sighed, and hopped onto the edge of Ronnie’s desk. “That’s cool. I’m sure another lead will come up soon.”

  “You always find good leads. Don’t worry,” Ronnie smiled at Justine. “If you’re done for the day, we could go and get dinner and talk about…everything.” Ronnie stood and placed a hand either side of Justine on the desk.

  “Yeah, that could be a plan,” Justine faltered, her eyes dancing around the room at the other detectives. None of them paid any attention. “But you know that we did talk a little bit about this at the building site. We were drunk, and things happen when people are drunk,” she lowered her voice.

  “Yeah.
I remember you saying that. And I recall being in this sort of position before, though we aren’t drunk right now,” Ronnie leaned in, leaving a small space between them.

  “I mean, who knows, they could have put anything in those coffees,” Justine laughed nervously, her body pulling her forward.

  Their lips grazed as Justine filled the gap, her breath hot against Ronnie’s plump, rose coloured lips. Ronnie’s red hair tickled her arms, and Justine’s breath hitched as her hands found Ronnie’s and covered them. Justine opened her lips with a tremble, and Ronnie’s kiss took her again.

  “Ronnie?” Rick cautioned with an interrupting cough. Justine’s hands flew away from Ronnie’s and knocked her coffee cup on the floor.

  “Shit.” Justine jumped off the desk and grabbed some tissues to clean up the mess, giving Rick a side glance.

  “What?” Ronnie complained, flustered as she itched her brow.

  “The footage from the corner shop near that building site came in. I’ve sent it to you to review,” Rick spoke quickly, then nodded, and walked away.

  “Thanks,” Ronnie shouted to him.

  “Corner shop footage?” Justine queried, as she threw her coffee cup and tissues in the bin, adjusting her blazer.

  “Yeah. Erm, I thought we might be able to see something from another angle. My car only shows one direction for him to drive away, but he could have turned the other corner.”

  “Genius, should we have a look?”

  “Sure,” Ronnie sat back at her desk, and Justine pulled a chair from an empty space next to them and perched beside her.

  Ronnie clicked on a media file in her email inbox and bought up the shop footage. “Alright, so this is two minutes after we got outside. So he should be coming round the corner any moment.” She pointed to a lamp post that sat opposite where her car was positioned. “Ah, there.” Ronnie pointed to the figure dressed in black.

  “You still can’t see his face,” Justine moaned, rubbing the back of her neck.