Past Sins Read online

  Past Sins

  A Dark Lakes Story

  M.V. Stott

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

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  1

  I was standing next to a lake with the chill Northern air nipping at my exposed genitalia.

  Which is to say, I was very naked.

  Completely nude.

  Starkers.

  And outside.

  Now, believe it or not, I’m not normally the type to go for a naked stroll, which told me one of two things: either I’d gone quite mad—which was a distinct possibility considering my life lately—or I was dreaming.

  And dreaming I was. Which was a relief.

  Usually, I would be appropriately ashamed to be outside nude. The naked male body is not something to present to a wide audience, at least not mine. I look my best dressed. Preferably three layers between people’s eyes and my skin. But, as I already explained, this was a dream, and I was out and proud.

  Quite liberating, really, even if it was all in my head.

  I was even whistling as I walked along briskly, my undercarriage lolloping from side-to-side.

  Within a few minutes, I found myself by the edge of a lake. It stretched out before me, brilliantly blue, as green hills sat just beyond. It was then that I remembered both where I was, and that this wasn’t the first time I’d had this particular dream.

  I was at Lake Derwentwater, the body of water by which I’d awoken ten years ago with no clue as to who, or what, I was. That complete blank had remained up until recently, when I found out a number of surprising things. First, there was the fact I was a warlock, a male witch, and several hundred years old too. That alone would have been more than enough, but the surprises kept on a-coming. What else? Ooh, that monsters of many stripes were real, as was magic, and other planes of existence. And let’s not forget the fact I was apparently destined to sit upon a throne of skulls so I could become a giant monster called the Magic Eater, and then, having taken my bony throne, would bring about hell on Earth

  So, there was that.

  Yup.

  A bit much to sit with all in one go.

  Luckily, I did have someone I could talk to about it.

  Unluckily, that someone was a foul-mouthed, drunken woman by the name of Eva, who was as likely to punch me as she was to lend an understanding ear. More likely, if I’m honest.

  Anyway, enough backstory, let’s return to nudey dream time...

  It was always at this point, with my toes wriggling at the water’s edge, that I remembered I’d had this dream before. I’d been having the dream several times a week for the last month in fact, so I knew what was going to happen next.

  I was going to get in the lake and have a bit of a swim.

  Being aware of this should have allowed me to take control of things and deviate from the script, but for some reason, I never did. The moment I considered taking a left instead of a right, I’d realise I was up to my waist in water and about to kick off swimming.

  And off I went, slicing through the water with the grace of an epileptic buffalo.

  You’d think I’d allow myself to be a better swimmer in my own dream, but apparently not.

  When I reached the centre of Derwentwater, I took a big gulp of air and ducked under, kicking hard, driving down, down, down into the belly of the lake.

  ‘Swim down.’

  ‘Swim down, Janto.’

  The voices were distant, tickling at the edge of my hearing, my own mysterious cheering squad.

  ‘Swim down.’

  The voices were familiar, but I couldn’t quite place them. All I knew was that I trusted them, and so down I swam.

  ‘Swim down.’

  ‘Swim down, Janto.’

  As my lungs began to burn and my vision blurred, the voices were replaced by a ringing sound and—

  —I woke, bleary, sitting sharply upright, gasping for air. Clearly I’d been taking my dream a little too literally, and had been holding my breath in real life, too.

  I flopped back onto the pillow, wanting nothing more than to drift off back to sleep, but my phone had other ideas, refusing to stop its annoying, insistent cries.

  Being woken from a strange dream by an alarm is a bit of a cliched way to begin a story, yes, but this was a phone call so an entirely different and not at all hack opening.

  Honest.

  I struggled out of the corkscrew I’d turned my duvet into during my nocturnal swimming and grabbed my phone.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Fucks sake, idiot, can you answer your phone a bit slower next time?’

  Ah, the sweary, punchy woman I mentioned earlier. She with the riot of black hair, a favoured ensemble of black ragged clothing, and a coat of many pockets, many stains, and many unpleasant smells that I swear she must have stolen off a slumbering tramp.

  ‘And a good morning to you Eva. You have heard of the concept of sleep?’

  ‘Yeah, you can waste a lot of your day doing that. Think of all the drinking hours people give up just so they can lie down with their eyes shut for a bit, love. Waste of time.’

  ‘I’ve seen you sleep, Eva.’

  ‘Resting my eyes.’

  A smile teased at my lips. ‘Is there something you wanted?’

  ‘Hm? Oh, yeah, right. We’ve got a job. Missing baby. Monster baby. Thing.’

  ‘A monster baby?’

  ‘Take a piss, put your coat on, and come pick me up, idiot.’

  The thin woman who answered the door of the pretty, thatch roofed cottage looked grey and wide-eyed, her hands trembling. Clearly she was feeling somewhat emotionally frazzled. I see a lot of this sort of thing at the day job, over at Carlisle Hospital, so I knew tact and a soft touch were required.

  ‘Jesus, love, you look like you fucked a ghost,’ said Eva, always one to be counted on for her sensitivity.

  The woman burst into tears. Of course. Eva offered her a sip of her can of beer, but for some reason the woman refused this generous offer.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ said Eva, shrugging, and pushed past the woman into her house. Literally pushed past. A two-handed shove.

  ‘I’m very sorry about…’ I said, gesturing in Eva’s general direction, then meekly slid past the still bawling woman.

  Moments later we were gathered in the front room of the house, flames roaring in the
open fireplace. The room was neat and ordered to an insane degree. This pair obviously took being house proud to the next level.

  The woman had taken it down a notch or two now, and was merely whimpering on the plump, pink couch as her husband, an imposingly sized man with a beard of such mighty proportions that it looked like a bear cub was clinging to his chin, sat beside her staring daggers at Eva. Clearly he’d had dealings with her before. By this point I’d grown used to Eva having this effect on people.

  ‘So where—’ Eva paused to unleash a burp of such ferocity that it knocked over a family portrait on the mantel, then carried on, ‘—where is the fucker? Little baby, monster, fuck-face fuck.’

  Now, Eva was always inebriated to some degree, but I was getting the distinct impression that she was a little deeper into her cups than usual.

  ‘It’s upstairs, in the baby’s room. Sat in his crib,’ replied the husband, which drew fresh wailings from the wife.

  ‘There, there,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, we deal with this sort of thing all the time.’ I was trying to ease their worry, but realised they weren’t paying me the slightest bit of notice. I turned to what was drawing their attention: Eva, leaning against the mantel, somehow still upright despite being sound asleep.

  ‘Eva,’ I said, nudging her awake and almost getting a right hand to the face as she jolted awake, wide-eyed.

  ‘Baby’s room?’ said Eva, using her sleeve to wipe drool from the corner of her mouth.

  The parents nodded.

  ‘Right. Here we go then. Let’s get the fucker.’

  Eva headed for the stairs and I followed, offering a quick, sympathetic smile to the parents as I left.

  ‘Eva, do we have a plan?’

  She paused halfway up the stairs and swayed back at such an alarming angle that I thought she was going to tumble back and crash into me. Somehow she pivoted forward and carried on up.

  ‘Twat the twat,’ she said.

  ‘Right. Good plan. Intricate.’

  Eva had more or less filled me in on the latest bit of bother on the drive from the coven to the house. We were dealing with a cuckoo. Not the beaked kind, but the Uncanny variety. A creature that imitated a young child and replaced it in the family home, feasting on the psychic power generated by a loving, devoted set of parents.

  Usually they go unnoticed, but this time the cuckoo had chosen poorly, replacing the child of a couple of magicians, who’d managed to clock what was going on.

  The door in front of us had a small plate screwed into it that read Jacob’s Room.

  ‘Hey, if they’re magicians, why couldn’t they deal with this themselves?’ I asked.

  Eva patted herself down, then pulled out her tobacco tin and began rolling herself a fresh smoke.

  ‘Hn. Well. Bit above their pay grade. Pair of useless fuckers, really, far as magicians go. Bit of telepathy. Make stuff, sort of, hover. They can do that. Not much else. And this thing, this cuckoo twat, has to be handled carefully, otherwise the real kid’ll be buggered. Not literally. I mean, it’ll be fucked.’

  ‘Not any better.’

  ‘Dead. Lost. Dead lost.’

  ‘So, how do we kick the cuckoo out and get the real child back?’

  ‘Got this bit of, shitting, you know, magical thing. Magical totem sort of thing.’ Eva began going through pocket after pocket, before finally locating the item and pulling it out. Some sort of gold coin sat in the palm of her hand.

  ‘We pay it to leave?’

  Eva stared at me with hooded eyes.

  ‘Okay. We don’t pay it.’

  ‘Idiot. We make it eat the coin. It eats the coin, and the magical magic coin does what it does and hey-de-ho, drinks all round. Come on, let’s get in character.’

  Eva stood in front of the door to Jacob’s room and I tried to calm the war waging inside my stomach between reckless excitement and abject fear. This wasn’t my first monster. In the months since I’d met Eva—or re-met, as it happens—I’d faced plenty of horrific, powerful, horrible creatures, but I’d yet to get used to it. Yet to feel confident in the face of danger.

  And yet…

  There was that excitement there, too. More and more, I felt it. This is what I was meant to do. What I had done for hundreds of years before the death of my two fellow witches. Before they died at my own hands, and the Cumbrian Coven fell. And now here I was again, taking my place; a life dedicated to keeping people safe.

  I’d also been able to get to grips with some rudimentary magic. Nothing too flashy, but I could manifest a fireball without too much of a struggle, and I could, on occasion, fling objects through the air without touching them.

  I’d yet to impress Eva, who continued to tell me I was a terrible student, but at least I wasn’t entirely at the whims of chance and luck now. When I walked into a shoot-out these days, I was no longer empty-handed.

  ‘Okay,’ said Eva, dropping her almost-dead cigarette on the carpet and stomping it out with the heel of her boot. ‘Let’s get this little turd.’ She opened the door, and we stepped inside.

  The boy was sat in his crib, playing with a toy car.

  He didn’t look much like a monster, but then I suppose that was the point.

  ‘Quick question, is there a way of making absolutely sure that we’re not about to force a large coin into an actual toddler’s stomach?’

  ‘Hm? Oh, yeah. Good point. Good idea.’

  Eva staggered over the crib and glared down at the oblivious toddler.

  ‘Oi. Hey! Hey, you down there, you tiny, dumb, baby thing. Are you a monster in disguise?’

  ‘I think you’re being a bit subtle,’ I said, as the toddler blinked in confusion at the woman glaring down at him with drool forming in the corners of her downturned mouth.

  ‘I’m Jacob,’ said the toddler, lifting up the toy car he was playing with. ‘I’m three years old and I like trains and… and… cars, too. But not boats.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for your life story, idiot,’ replied Eva, then held up the magic coin. ‘Know what this is?’

  Young Jacob looked at the coin, then at Eva, then over at me. ‘I like cars,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a monster,’ I said.

  ‘Well, forgive me, Mr Big Pants, if I don’t take your word as gospel,’ replied Eva.

  Jacob began to cry and call for his mommy.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ I said.

  ‘You really think this little shit machine isn’t a monster?’ said Eva.

  ‘Well, maybe not, I don’t know. He seems very toddler-ish. Not that I have an extensive amount of experience with toddlers.’

  Eva shook her head, her face twitching between disappointment, anger, and exasperation. It was quite the display of facial gymnastics, a solid nine on the scoreboard.

  ‘Oh, and you’re so sure, are you?’ I said, pouting.

  Eva sighed. She turned, pointed at little Jacob, and yelled some sort of gibberish that may or may not have been close to: ‘Ala Mur Kala Phot!’

  The result of this string of odd words was that, for a brief flash, Jacob was no longer a small, pudgy, human toddler. Instead, he was a festering, hate-filled blob of horror that sent me rocking back on my heels.

  ‘What in the name of fuckity fuck was that?’ I cried.

  ‘I just made the little arsehole show his true colours for a moment,’ Eva replied. ‘Can we now agree it’s a fucking monster?’

  I nodded rather briskly, my eyes fixed on Not-Jacob, in case the real him decided to make a leap for my sweet neck meat.

  ‘Use the coin,’ I said. ‘The magic coin. Now. Get it down his neck.’

  ‘Alright, I’m getting to it, what’s your hurry?’

  ‘I just think, when it comes to monster killing, sooner is better than later.’

  ‘The moment I start taking orders from you again is the day I put a gun in my mouth.’

  ‘He’ll die,’ said Jacob, which rather pulled us out of our back and forth.

&nbs
p; ‘I’m sorry?’ I said.

  ‘The human child,’ replied Jacob, the toy car now set aside, the pretence over.

  ‘Look, you little cuckoo motherfucker, the jig’s up,’ said Eva, starting to roll herself a fresh smoke. ‘The parents know what you are, and we know what you are. Time to mosey on out of town or prepare to be fucked up in the most fucker-uppest way possible. Understand?’

  Jacob laughed. No, laughed makes it sound somehow pleasant. The noise that came out of the thing pretending to be a toddler was in no way pleasant. It was a winding, sharp snigger that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and dance.

  ‘Bit of a boo-boo on your part, trying to set up shop in the home of a family of magicians,’ said Eva. ‘Might wanna do your recon a bit more thoroughly next time.’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Jacob.

  ‘Where’s the real Jacob?’ I asked.

  ‘In a dark, dark place, Janto,’ replied the creature, using my old name. My real name, from back when I was an all-powerful witch, and not a man employed to mop up other people’s puke.

  ‘How does it know my real name?’

  ‘Bad news travels fast, idiot,’ said Eva. ‘Okay, bored now.’

  She grabbed Jacob by the nape of his neck and lifted the screeching, wriggling thing aloft, his fat legs whirring on invisible bicycle pedals.

  ‘This,’ said Eva, ‘is a magic coin. I’m gonna shove it right down your neck, and then it’s bye-bye baby.’

  Jacob smiled.

  ‘Why is he smiling?’ I asked.

  ‘Why are you smiling?’ said Eva.

  Then Jacob’s face tore open and a flood of blood and gunk poured out over Eva’s hand. It looked a little like that scene in The Shining with the elevator doors, only, you know, with a toddler’s face. So not at all similar, now I think about it. Forget that.