Nightmare Trail: An Urban Fantasy Thriller: (Harker & Blackthorn - Book Ten) Read online

  Nightmare Trail

  Harker & Blackthorn - Book Ten

  J. A. Ironside

  Copyright © 2022 J.A. Ironside

  Blue Stone Press

  Nightmare Trail – Harker & Blackthorn, Book Ten – first published November 2022

  Copyright © J. A. Ironside 2022

  Cover Artwork copyright © J. A. Ironside 2022

  Cover Design copyright © J. A. Ironside 2022

  Cover Photograph Girl copyright © Faestock

  Cover Background Photograph © Tom Tom

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher and author.

  First Edition

  For all those who ever wandered off the path

  …and came back a little wiser.

  And the girl just laughed.

  She knew she was no one’s meat.

  Said ‘if you want to find me,

  You’ll have to run on wilder feet’.

  She was a flame as she stepped

  From the fairy tale,

  And led me onto the

  Nightmare Trail.

  And she wore red

  Red, red were her boots and

  Red, red, red was her hood and

  Red were the lips that smiled at me;

  White sharp the teeth beneath.

  She wore red…

  She Wore Red — Blood & Chocolate

  Prologue

  The Buckland Family Fun Fair was having its best night of the year. Never mind that it was late September, and they should have reached their wintering grounds, and packed up for the season – they were raking in the doubles and half-yards. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, the showman was not happy.

  Manfri Buckland was a big man with a softening waistline and powerful shoulders. He’d left school – such as it was – with three O-levels to his name, which hadn’t troubled him once in his life. All he’d ever wanted to be was the showman of his family’s fair. Nor was he short of a bob or two. At least two of the small but lucrative seafront businesses in Scarborough were owned by Manfri, who despite being in his sixties, still had a shock of black hair and the traveller’s itch in his feet.

  One of the clerks from a nearby food stand noticed the boss patrolling by and flashed him the hand gesture which meant they were having a very profitable night. Manfri nodded, fighting a grimace, and walked on. The source of his disquiet had set up a small platform between the Waltzers and the Pirate ship. Just a small, unremarkable stage with a hand lettered sign leaning drunkenly against it, while its owner juggled and backflipped, performing tricks that would barely entertain a group of half-asleep toddlers.

  And yet.

  It had been a dismal August up until the final week, when a sudden heat wave had dried up three weeks of stormy downpours overnight. That was when he joined them on the road. The Mountebank. If any of the roustys or ride-jockeys noticed the Mountebank, they say nothing of it. The Buckland Family Fun Fair came with its share of superstitions and stories, but the one everyone knew was that you didn’t talk about the strange man in faded motley, who joined you on the road. Everyone knew about the Mountebank, and no one spoke. Sometimes he travelled with the fair and sometimes he didn’t. Often no one would see him for fifteen years or more, then he’d suddenly be there, just as you were burning the lot. He never paid into the kitty, he never gave over rent on the space he took and you never bloody well asked. As showman, Manfri knew better than to complain. You left the Mountebank alone and he left you alone. And your luck remained good.

  Manfri had been ready to head onward two weeks ago – a scant week after they’d arrived at the last destination on their schedule. A soft word murmured in his ear by the Mountebank had stopped him. Oxford had more to yield yet. Even richer pickings were on the way. If any of the other workers found the showman’s decision strange, they held their tongues.

  Sure enough, the midway was as crowded on the eighth night as it was on the first. The weather held fair, and the carnival’s fortunes held with it. Still, there was a crispness to the air on the morning of the twenty-fourth of September and Manfri was once more all for moving on.

  A look from the Mountebank stopped him saying as much. Wait, that look had said. And so, for one more night, the showman waited. That night – the night Manfri was making his uneasy patrol of the midway – the carnival was hosting the biggest crowd of pleasure seekers yet, many of whom had just got their monthly pay and were looking for fun.

  The showman was spooked by it, if he was honest. Fun Fairs – the rides, games, food and sideshows – all thrived on novelty. Only huge and hugely subsidised theme parks – the gentrified love children of the old travelling shows – could afford to stay put in one place for long. The Fun Fair needed to put distance and time between its last arrival and its next. Public interest waned when their brand of fun was easily available for more than a week. Every carnival should leave town before it wore out its welcome. And preferably before the rubes cottoned on to any rigged games.

  The midway was Manfri’s old stomping ground even if the actual location changed. He should have felt at home and yet he did not. Tonight, as he walked, alternately drenched with brilliant light and smothered in shadow, while the heavy baseline of competing blasts of music thumped a rhythm through the ground, his heart beat a tattoo of disquiet behind his ribs. This wasn’t the way. It messed with the natural order.

  But the showman remembered what his ma used to say. That when the luck was on you, you rode that horse to the finish line because if you tried to jump off, you’d like as not break your head. Besides, there was no obvious danger that he could see. No fights about to break out. No rides carelessly assembled. Everyone was having a good time. As sweet natured and noisy a crowd of customers as he could ever have wished for. Troubled but silent, the showman was about to retreat when he saw a group of four young people strolling between the booths.

  Two girls – one willowy with wavy, caramel coloured hair, one short and petite with straight, waist length golden locks – and two young men with them. They were all laughing. A pair of couples on a double date, without a care in the world. The taller man shook jaw length dark hair out of his face and said something that made his tiny blonde girlfriend grin in delight. The other man – more fashionably dressed with carefully styled brown hair and a short designer beard – waved a stick of pink candy floss as he made some point. His own girlfriend took the opportunity to tear a piece of the spun sugar free, popping it in her mouth with a mischievous smile. The showman could see that they had just come from one of the shooting galleries. He raised an eyebrow at the large, stuffed unicorn that peered with wall-eyed disapproval over the blonde girl’s arm. He wondered which one of them was able to shoot with uncanny enough aim to win that. Jeremiah, the game-jockey, must have been tearing his hair out.

  Manfri watched as the blonde girl looked happily up at her boyfriend and noted the way the dark-haired young man’s expression softened. There are marks in all walks of life and that included love. The showman found himself smiling faintly, nostalgically recalling nights with Rosalie on top of the big wheel. That poor young sod over there probably didn’t know wha
t had hit him.

  And then Manfri realised that he wasn’t the only one who had noticed the group.

  The Mountebank’s much patched and many coloured clothes billowed around his tall, spare frame. He backflipped lithely onto his platform, indifferent to the cheers of the crowd he’d inexplicably manged to draw, and in the same motion plucked a dozen clubs from the ground and began to juggle. An affable smile stayed on his lean, sharp features. He bantered with his appreciative audience. But all the while Manfri could feel the Mountebank’s attention was on the group of four. Could sense, without understanding it, the hunger behind his attention. Gooseflesh travelled up the showsman’s arms. He found himself feverishly grabbing one of the roustys and ordering him to offer the four young people a free ride on the carousel. Anything, anything to get them out of the Mountebank’s sights.

  But even after they follow the rousty away, the Mountebank’s attention lingered on them. And Manfri wondered once again, what their current run of luck would truly cost.

  Chapter One – Hog Wild

  The rough bark of the oak bit into my palms. I felt a sting across the base of my right thumb, a sense of slickness. The branch creaked alarmingly under my weight.

  “Don’t break. Don’t break. Don’t break…” I chanted in desperation, while my legs peddled uselessly for purchase beneath me. The fingers of my right hand slipped a quarter of an inch. Sweat beaded my temples despite the chilly damp of the November night. The muscles in my arms and shoulders screamed.

  “Amy!” Steve cried.

  Not even the fear in his voice could make me turn my head to look at him. There was nothing he could do right now, and it was taking all my concentration not to fall.

  “Don’t distract her, Stephen,” Rebekah snapped. “Amy? Just hold on!”

  “Best…plan…ever, boss…” I ground out, swinging my right leg forward and missing the lower branch I’d aimed for once again. I was just too short. My legs weren’t long enough. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have worried about a fifteen foot drop out of a tree. I had telekinesis to cushion my fall with after all. But that probably wouldn’t help me with what was waiting under the tree.

  A squealing roar rent the night and the tree juddered, sending a frozen wash of terror through my veins. I whimpered as my body swung to and fro under the assault. My fingers slipped a little more.

  “She’s going to fall,” Eddie shouted. “Do something!”

  “We could feed you to it,” Rebekah sniped.

  “You’ll have to get me out of this sodding tree first,” Eddie snapped back. “Jinx, hang on.”

  “Was that…a pun?” I gasped as the tree shook again. And finally, unwillingly, I looked down.

  It was a huge wild boar. And I don’t mean huge as in ‘wow, pigs are unexpectedly large animals, aren’t they?’ I mean huge as in anime monster. Its coat was a seething mass of rust-coloured bristles, lit with eerie glints of hellish fire. The ridge that ran from the crown of its head to its haunches was made of razor-sharp shards of obsidian. It had tusks the length and width of my forearms and…yep, it was belching smoke. So, it probably breathed fire. Fantastic.

  The wild boar’s mean little black eyes glinted up at me with murderous intensity. One salad plate sized cloven hoof pawed the ground, digging a long trench as it prepared to charge the oak tree again. The tree branches shook but this time it came from above. I squeaked, looking up to find the new source of danger and saw Eddie picking his way through the branches.

  “Eddie, don’t!” Meghan cried.

  There was a sharp crack. A medium sized branch broke off, falling from beneath Eddie’s foot to land on the boar’s head with a meaty clunk. I gasped but Eddie had already recovered from his momentary slip, pulling himself up onto a stronger branch. His upper body strength was way better than mine. And then I had other things to worry about because the wild boar, who didn’t much care for having a branch dropped on its skull, charged at the trunk again.

  Meghan let out a muffled scream and the branch I was dangling from made a disquieting creaking noise. It wasn’t going to hold much longer.

  “Jinx, swing a leg over,” Eddie urged.

  “The branch is breaking,” I said, through gritted teeth. “Why do you think I haven’t done it already?”

  “No need to be snippy.”

  “I’m dangling over a pissed off, ravenous monster pig which you just dropped a chunk of wood on,” I gasped. “If ever there was a time to be snippy, it’s now.”

  Eddie laughed. “Fair point.”

  “Stephen, how’s that concoction coming along?” Rebekah barked.

  “I’m working on it,” Steve snapped back. “Amy don’t let go. Just a few more seconds…”

  “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” I would have shrugged but it’s pretty hard to do when you’re dangling by your hands. Especially when your arms are starting to go numb. Okay, I would be going somewhere soon. I’d be going down. Gravity was still king.

  “Jinx, look at me,” Eddie called.

  I turned my head painfully towards him. Distantly, I was aware of my heart hammering, of the cold flood of adrenaline pumping through my bloodstream. All the physical symptoms of fear, except I seemed to have emerged in some fatalistic calm. Or maybe shock would be a better word. Eddie had managed to climb across to a sturdy limb just above me. He had his legs wrapped around it, freeing his hands.

  He braced himself. “On three, you’re going to swing towards me and let go.”

  “LET GO?”

  “No!” Steve shouted.

  “Stephen keep your mind on your own task!”

  “I’ll catch you,” Eddie said, making his voice low and soothing – which was completely ruined by the boar bellowing with rage below me. “I won’t let you fall.”

  “Amy don’t!” Steve cried.

  “If you want to help her, finish what you’re doing,” Rebekah snapped.

  “Don’t…fight…” Whatever else I might have said evaporated in a breathless rush as the boar shook the tree again. Eddie yelped and grabbed for a branch. My hands slipped. A drop of blood from my cut palm dripped onto my face. I forced my fingers to close again but it was crunch time. “I can’t…hold on…”

  “Jinx, focus. Swing my way,” Eddie yelled. All calm had evaporated. Maybe he’d spotted the blood dripping down my wrist.

  The monster hog must have scented it – something was driving it into a frenzy of short, relentless attacks, which shook the oak.

  “Too…far…” I whimpered.

  “Why doesn’t she use telekinesis?” Meghan cried.

  “Can’t…use it…on myself…” I panted.

  “Says who? You lifted both of us off the ground that one time,” Eddie scoffed.

  And I hadn’t managed to repeat the feat since. I shook my head mulishly.

  “Just use the Touch to give yourself a push.” Eddie lurched sideways and caught himself as the tree shook again.

  “Now is not the time for a lack of imagination, Amy,” Rebekah called in her most school ma’am tone.

  Easy for her to say, she wasn’t dangling like bait on a hook. But maybe they had a point. My shoulders were screaming. It would even be a relief to just fall. I had to try something.

  “Okay…”

  “On three,” Eddie called. “One…”

  I arched my body back and then forwards, trying to get as much momentum as possible.

  “Two…”

  Please, I would really like to reach that limb, I begged my gift.

  “Three!”

  On the upswing, I let go and thrust out with the Touch. There was nothing to push against except empty air. I’d never managed to deliberately levitate myself. Somehow, air was enough. It felt as if a giant hand gave me a shove between my shoulder blades. From being too far away for me to reach, the tree limb zoomed towards me at breakneck speed. I was coming in hot. The limb thunked into my solar plexus, driving the air from my lungs. Somehow, I hooked my leaden arms over the limb,
then Eddie had hold of me, grabbing a wrist, my upper arm, reaching over and snagging hold of the belt loop at the back of my jeans. He pulled me up, hand over hand like he was climbing a rope, while I flailed numb limbs, trying to force my deadened fingers to close on anything within reach.

  “It’s alright, I’ve got you.” Eddie looped an arm around my waist, shoving me against the trunk as the tree juddered again. Meghan cheered from somewhere below.

  I gasped for breath. “Really…fed up of that…bloody pig…”

  “It does seem to want to kill you like it’s personal,” Eddie agreed. “What did you do? Blow its house down.”

  I punched him feebly in the arm, laughing soundlessly without breath.

  “If we do this again, I’m not standing next you,” Eddie went on, tightening his grip as the boar charged the trunk again. “I had no idea I’d spend the evening in a bloody tree.”

  “I never promised you a dull life,” I wheezed.

  “Ready!” Steve called. “Amy, are you alright?”

  “Fighting…fit…”

  “We could use your aim,” Rebekah said.

  I glanced across at the half crumbled stone wall she and Steve had climbed when the wild boar attacked. It was too low and too close to the mega-pig for comfort. Or it would have been if the hammy git hadn’t taken one look at me and decided no one else existed. It hadn’t shown the least interest in either of them, or Meghan who was straddling a branch lower down on another tree, safely enough that she was actually taking pictures of the monster.