Hell And High Water Read online

  HELL AND HIGH WATER

  BOOK TWO OF THE DARK PENNINE TALES SERIES

  Hell and High Water by Angela Blythe

  Book 2 of the The Dark Pennine Tales Series.

  First Edition.

  © 2019 Angela Blythe. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.K. copyright law.

  Please contact me for details of future books at http://www.angelablythe.com

  Published by Willow Publishers.

  Cover Illustration and Design Copyright © 2019 by Dark Grail

  https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/DarkGrail

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Other books by Angela Blythe

  The Dark Pennine Tales Series

  Hide

  The Saddleworth Vampire Series

  Sticky Valves

  Silver Banned

  Brass Neck

  Bold As Brass

  Seven Bells

  Brass In The Blood

  HELL AND HIGH WATER

  Prologue

  1 The Crack

  2 Walrus

  3 Frogman

  4 Pudding

  5 Spawn

  6 Cry

  7 Knitting Needle

  8 Marsh

  9 Craze

  10 Pong

  11 Rattlesnake

  12 Jacques Cousteau

  13 Kelpie

  14 Black Lagoon

  15 Cucumber

  16 Faction

  17 Amphibious

  18 Ugly

  19 Shoal

  20 Windlass

  21 Hook

  22 Fingers

  23 Bobbus

  24 Coils

  25 Epidemic

  26 Brazen

  27 Alien

  28 Icon

  29 Toilets

  30 Visitors

  31 Invasion

  32 Clever

  33 Wedding

  34 Schnitzel

  35 Taste

  36 Below

  37 Naiad

  38 Billy Goats Gruff

  39 Borda to Afanc

  40 Mother

  41 Foe

  Prologue

  My name is Wee Renee. I live in a small Village called Friarmere, in Saddleworth, which forms part of the Melden Triangle. An area of outstanding natural beauty and unnatural happenings, and disappearances. I’m talking Vampires, Ghosts, Werewolves, Humunculous, Murderous trees and Faeries. That was before it lost all its luck. Now it will get hellish! Friarmere is definitely the weirdest place to live in the North of England, if not the world!

  These are the chronicles of the Village and the tales told by the people who live there. Tales told in The Grange, by the fire – Dark Pennine Tales.

  1 The Crack

  The old protections were broken, that was clear. At the top of England’s spine, water gathered on the hills and wild moors, flowing west to form one river and east to create another. Underneath the Pennines, a crack had been created, and for the first time, the River Tame and the River Colne were connected.

  In this place of murders, malevolence and supernatural happenings, the earth was soaked with blood and sorrow. Each time the rain came down, it brought more and more sorrowful emotion and ancient evil to the rivers. And the rivers swallowed it up. Devoured it.

  To the west, the River Tame fed ponds, marshlands and other tributaries on its way to the sea through Liverpool. To the east, the River Colne streamed into reservoirs on its way to the North Sea.

  Alongside these two rivers as they meandered across the width of England ran a canal. Now, one way or another, any creature could slip between the two and travel between one sea and another, if they so wished.

  For the first few months, the most heinous acts did not happen. But as the evil from this area, known as The Melden Triangle, spread out its rich and heady scent, it drew the worst of the water-dwelling demons into its centre.

  The first to come were the Naiads from the river, the freshwater nymphs. They were about the best that the water had to offer. Beautiful, naked but envious and territorial.

  From the local ponds came the Grindylows, who preyed on children and animals that strayed too close to the edge of the water. Short, green and devil-like, they would wait for the right time to strike.

  Emerging from the peat bogs of the Moors strode the Borda. A female beast that would kill anything that it met. Out of its hiding places it came through the fog and the night towards the river.

  The Afancs came from the lakes. Dredged from the filth on the lakebed, they mainly fed on animals, but they now realised that they didn’t have to anymore. Possessing the power to flood regions near to any water they inhabited, the Afanc was a double threat.

  Not to be underestimated was the Bolotnik, a male swamp spirit covered in algae moss scales and molluscs. It usually settled itself amongst the reeds at the side of the canal. Slowly, but silently it hopped along. It’s powerful toad-like legs propelling it towards unsuspecting prey.

  Many water monsters came from the reservoirs. The Sea Witches, the Sirens and the reservoir’s dead drifted silently towards the Melden Triangle.

  From the north, along the estuary came the dreaded rattling, chattering Shellycoats, the domed headed Bishop fish, and the Storm Kelpies.

  So many weird and unnatural creatures of the Sea were also attracted as the rivers flowed outwards from east to west. Beings slid towards the mouth of these waters as they vomited their hate into the sea.

  From Liverpool, an army of spectral pirates in chains, tendrils of seaweed wafting hauntingly behind them, drifted up through the night, above the surface. From the North Sea the ghosts of so many people who had died there, fisherman, soldiers and the murdered, the Funayurei, began their journey to the centre of the land. Below them from the Arctic North, a Sea Dragon swam deep in the water, lazily enjoying its journey.

  They would all stay awhile, making the Melden Triangle their home. As long as there was enough food for all. And there was.

  But the worst did not even notice that the crack above them had opened for several months. This was a place where another subterranean land existed. Millions of years ago, this land was cut-off from civilisation as we know it. The land formed a crust above their watery habitat. Their aquatic community.

  Unusual singular creatures had evolved here. Beasts that had never existed anywhere above the crust, in the water as we know it. Unlike the other animals that live in our world, they had never seen a human or a boat. It had been millions of years since they had even seen the sky.

  From their briny ancient sea beneath the Pennines, they produced their spawn, and as the flowing, rising water made the crack more extensive, more than just their spawn would eventually come to the surface.

  The whole summer the inhabitants of Friarmere and Moorston had no idea that this was happening. Enjoying the sleepy heat of the warmer months, they had a small rest from the chaos. Some thought it had ended. Everyone thought that their Villages were fine for the moment. It would be too late when they found out.

  2 Walrus

  Friarmere Brass Band got together as usual that Monday night. A couple of months ago they had acquired a new euphonium player named Martyn.

  Martyn was a Police Officer, and at first, the rest of the Band had not trusted him after their previous experiences with the Police. In time, they had grown to like Martyn, who was a kind and gentle person. He seemed to have a heart of gold.

  They knew that sooner rather than lat
er they would have to tell him about the past, to let him into their secrets. After all, it was only a matter of time before he discovered all about himself, especially in his line of work.

  Martyn had recently moved from London, so had no idea of the perils of living in Friarmere or the Melden Triangle. Surely if he had been told by the proper authorities about their peculiar circumstances, he wouldn’t have come.

  It had been a very peaceful summer but now the first hints of autumn were upon them - the darker nights and golden leaves.

  Wee Renee knew that the peace wouldn’t last forever and had discussed this at length with Pat. Unfortunately, Pat knew she was right. They had not been lucky in the past, and it seemed in all probability that all hell would break out somewhere close soon. As always, they would have to deal with it.

  Alan was conducting the band as usual, and he was excited to tell them his news.

  ’Well Band, you know we been after a new euph player to sit alongside Martyn here and Lady Luck has dropped him into my lap. My old friend Jim has come back into the area. Some of you may know of Jim ... or Big Jim as he is often called,’ Alan announced happily.

  A general Band rowdiness and titillation ensued. There were a few ooh’s and ah’s and here comes trouble then, along with loud laughs, as the people that knew of Jim commented.

  ‘For those of you who don’t know Jim, he lives on a boat on the canal with his wife. He’s been moored up around Skipton way, so has been playing up there. I have known him since I was a lad and he is a pretty decent euph player. Now he’s in Friarmere, and it couldn’t come at a better time. He’ll be down on Wednesday. I’m sure that you will find him an asset to the Band,’ Alan said.

  ’Why do they call him Big Jim?’ Bob asked.

  ’Why do you think? He’s big,’ Alan said. ‘Well over six feet tall. Big personality too.’

  ’And you say he’s married?’ Pat asked.

  ’Yes, I’ve known his wife for ages too. She’s called Julia,’ Alan said.

  ’Doesn’t look like I’ll be able to hook him up with Jackie and get her off my hands if he’s married. She needs a big fella,’ Pat replied and sniffed.

  ’Cheeky!’ Jackie exclaimed amiably, and Pat guffawed loudly from the horn section. ‘Besides that, I’m not designed to hunker down on a barge. I’m too tall.’

  ’I know Jim from a few years back. Doesn’t his wife play the cornet as well?’ Gary asked.

  ’Yes, she does, but she’s not interested in playing. She’s having a rest from it. That’s a woman’s prerogative,’ Alan said.

  ‘Oh aye, it is,’ Wee Renee said, glancing over to Pat and winking at her.

  ‘Is he going on top euph?’ Martyn asked. He had been playing the top euphonium part since he had been there but did not really want to. Martyn wanted to sit in the second seat.

  ’ He probably will if you don’t mind, Martyn. He’s a natural soloist. You’ll see – he has the swagger. Besides that, you are off a lot with shifts, aren’t you?’ Alan offered.

  ’It suits me,’ Martyn said truthfully. ‘It’s been a lot for me to take on. I’m much happier with someone in the pressure seat.’

  Tony also knew of Jim.

  ‘It looks like Band had better get ready for some mammoth drinking sessions,’ Tony said. ‘There’s lots of fun to be had with Big Jim.’

  Sue had just come in to give Alan some music.

  ‘Did I hear you say, Big Jim? Do you mean Boatsman Jim, when you say, Big Jim?’ Sue asked. Alan nodded.

  ’This bloke is famous,’ Adam said, already impressed.

  ’They call them Suicide Jim, as well,’ Andy commented mischievously.

  ‘Why is that?’ Rick asked, who had been dreaming of a visit to the chippy after Band rehearsal.

  ’Kamikaze on the high notes,’ Ernie said from the back. ‘Well known for it.’

  ‘Balls of steel,’ Alan chipped in.

  ’He sounds like he could come in handy if we were in a pickle,’ Wee Renee commented.

  ‘We do alright on our own,’ Terry said miserably.

  Martyn looked around at the rest of the Band. He thought he was missing something.

  ’There is one thing for sure,’ Maurice said, ‘things will be getting even more interesting, with Big Jim about!’.

  Brian’s wife always made him go outside to have a cigarette. She said it played havoc with her magnolia skirting boards. It wasn’t so bad when it was the summer months, and even now in September, it was still warm. He found he had shorter cigarette breaks from the TV when it was colder.

  The house was situated with its back overlooking the canal. This could be lovely and was most of the time, but it also meant that their cat brought in a lot more wildlife than they were happy about.

  Tonight, Brian was thinking about football. It was half-time, and when he went back in, he would watch the rest of the Match with some pork scratchings and another beer.

  He wasn’t really looking at the water. Brian did not have his mind on what he was looking at. Brian was just wondering where he had hidden the scratchings so that the cat didn’t find them.

  He realised all too late that he had been unknowingly staring at a large black shape, which now slid off the opposite bank and into the canal.

  The transition was soundless from the bank to the water. Its shape was rounded and bulky. The only animal Brian could think of that would be that big and could glide away like that, would be something like a walrus. After all, huge fish don’t sit on the side of the canal. There was one problem with this theory, Brian knew for definite that walrus did not swim down his canal. Neither did seals. There was nothing he could think of that might be at the side of the canal. Nothing that he had ever seen in all his years of living here.

  The other problem was that outside his house, the light was so bad that everything was just different textures of black and grey.

  He strained his eyes to look at the water, then back to the bank. There were no signs of it now. If he had seen it moving before, he could have maybe tried to pick out a few details. He had been staring at it all the time, and there was a chance it would have been staring at him. If something that big was living in or on the canal, he would have to watch the cat or else that thing would drag it under. How weird he thought.

  Just as he put out his cigarette, the second the glowing speck dropped down to the floor, he saw another movement on the canal bank. A presence as tall as the first mystery he had seen and a hint of dead eyes studying him. His chest went tight. Brian decided he didn’t want to know. There was one fact he did know for sure, Friarmere had many secrets, and they were all terrible ones.

  Brian went back inside. From now on he was keeping his eyes peeled when he had his cigarette. He might even smoke out of the front door. What he didn’t see, wasn’t happening. Worryingly the black shape looked as big as him, swarthy and a good swimmer. Brian had no doubt that it could have taken him.

  Now he was inside, he thought that he shouldn’t have another beer. All this might be that he had too many already. Brian wondered if he would see pink elephants next. He stood for a while gazing into the fridge with the door open, wondering whether he should have one or not. He didn’t fancy the pork scratchings either. The sound of the second half starting jolted his mind back to life.

  Brian had a change of heart. He thought the best course of action was to take out three beers. This wasn’t the time to go cold turkey. He needed comfort. Brian decided he wouldn’t be telling Janice when he went back into the Match. He hoped he would forget about it soon himself.

  3 Frogman

  ‘Jim, have you seen this fog? It's bloody miserable out there. Do they always have a lot of fog here?’ Julia asked her husband as she opened the curtains the following morning. She was looking out of the window of their narrowboat, which was moored on the canal in Friarmere.

  Julia looked out across towards the river, which ran alongside the canal. It was quite wide at this point, and in the centre, there was a
small patch of grassy land that the birds often sat on. Jim joined his wife and looked out of the same window while he was drinking his morning cup of coffee.

  ‘Ooh, a pea-souper. The sun will eat up the fog when it’s out,’ Jim said confidently.

  ’I don’t know about that. This looks like it’s set in and staying,’ Julia said. ‘We start getting all day fogs in September. And thunder and lightning, which I hate. I hope this isn’t the start of the cold weather. I was holding out for an Indian Summer!’

  ’Bloody hell Julia, it’s just a bit of fog,’ Jim replied. ‘I’ve put my shorts on today and I’m keeping them on. Fog be damned!’ Jim turned away.

  Julia carried on looking out of the window. She could barely see the island on the river, but it looked like something large was on there. Or was it a tree? She couldn’t remember from yesterday, and they had only arrived the previous night. Julia blinked a few times, but it didn’t make the view any clearer. She cleaned her glasses. Now it had gone. Perhaps it was the fog swirling, and she had seen a thick patch.