Modern Irish Fantasy Vol. 1

By Simon J. Cooper

The first five Modern Irish Fantasy stories collected in one volume. Over 25,000 words, about equal to 100 pages paperback reading.

All set in present day Ireland, from the tranquil Donegal hills to the Belfast back streets, these stories have a dark edge, with monsters, mind-control and flesh eating metal.

In the Predator Trap, when a man with blood on his hands is arrested for a brutal murder in a sleepy Irish town, why does Cal think something more sinister is at large?

In Monstrous Love, Ireland's last monster hunter has a rogue entity to find, but only if it doesn't find him first.

The third in the series is The Dead Moon Spell. The Hobmen love the moon so much they'll destroy the earth to get to her, but not if Baxter can stop them.

Buried in the Bog sees old Colm find a living, breathing, moaning and groaning, 2000 year old man in a remote Irish bog, and he finds they have more in common than he could have imagined.

Silvermesh asks what would you do if heroin was the only thing stopping you losing your better than new Silvermesh hand?

The Modern Irish Fantasy series by award winning writer, Simon J. Cooper, takes you to an alternate Ireland where things are rarely what they seem.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Holbrook Publishing
• Release date: Jul 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465918291

Simon J. Cooper

Simon J. Cooper grew up on a farm in rural Donegal, Ireland, and spent his time avoiding farm work, digging for dragon skulls, and daydreaming about the kind of characters and worlds he now turns into stories. When his family moved to England, Simon fell in love with County Derbyshire, (you should go there,) and ale! It was there, at age eighteen, that he embarked on a quest for the meaning of life. This led to becoming down and out in both London and Paris, and three years philosophising in Lancashire, and a lot of other unprintable stuff, great and awful. Finally, he found an answer, his own at any rate, and got lucky, and married, in Northern Ireland, which is where he lives now with his wife, two children and a dragon – sorry, dog.

Book preview

Modern Irish Fantasy Vol. 1

Simon J. Cooper

Copyright Simon J. Cooper 2011

Published by Holbrook Publishing at Smashwords

License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All Covers by ENC

Original cover photography for Modern Irish Fantasy Vol. 1 by Shaddack, (unendorsed), and licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license, as is cover photography of Freedom Corner Mural on Silvermesh.

Silvermesh first appeared in Electric Spec, 2008

Cover photography for Monstrous Love, copyright 2009 by Julia.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This ebook collection was created with support from:

Contents

The Predator Trap

Monstrous Love

The Dead Moon Spell

Buried in the Bog

Silvermesh

The Predator Trap

Simon J. Cooper

Letterkenny General’s morgue smelled like the walls were painted with disinfectant. Maybe it was overcompensation. Murder wasn’t standard fare in the grassy hills of fair Donegal, so when the victim’s boyfriend was picked off the streets with a bloodied kitchen knife and no recollections, why had the two local blues in front of me taken so long to call in a latent? Whatever the reason, reading dead minds gave me the willies.

The two gards led the way down a corridor only wide enough for a single trolley. My stomach churned and my skin itched at the thought of what was coming. I felt for the sliver of titanium and electronics embedded in the skin below my collar bone. Then I tapped the wedge end of the trapping spike, holstered in my jacket.

The superintendant, Brand, a man who had waxed his thinning hair so it seemed like he was permanently caught in the rain, stopped at a double door to the right. He looked at me without making any effort to hide his disdain.

Perhaps it was my long hair? No one at L.B. backed me up on it scientifically, but I just couldn’t work with short hair. My touch felt numbed somehow. It couldn’t have been my coffee linen suit, unless it was the black shirt and lack of tie beneath. Or maybe it was the sneakers? It was un-scientific, like my hair, but I just needed loose footwear to concentrate. He glanced at my feet. His nose twisted and he tightened the button of his tailored jacket against his expanding belly. Yeah, it was always the sneakers.

Fielding, the D.I. beside Brand, was a lot younger and about an inch taller. Her streaked auburn hair was tied back in a pony tail and she had on her best stony face. The female gards must do a special class on that during training.

Brand wedged open the door. Now, let’s get on with it. Maybe you can find us something? Surprise us, Mr. Callan.

Just Cal, I said.

Brand snorted, and shook his head, but Fielding’s mouth curled a fraction at the edges.

Inside, the victim’s corpse lay on a stainless steel autopsy table, in the centre of the room. My butterflies had calmed. It was always the anticipation that did me. She was covered up to her neck with a light blue plastic sheet. Her dyed red hair looked like a wig, too bright for the occasion. Strands of it fell into the brain basin built into the table at the crown of her head. Her name was Emma Shilly. She was killed thirteen hours ago. That long cold gave me an outside chance at best of a useful read.

Do you need anything there? Brand asked.

For a moment he sounded like a waiter, the situation like some kind of grim date. I shook my head. Just yourself to leave, Sir. It was a rudeness I could get away with. To do a reading, a Latent needed to be alone with the subject. Brand recognized the challenge though and smiled.

I’ll be happy to. He led Fielding out of the room.

I stepped close to the girl’s head. Her lips were lined with cracks that had greyed. There were spots on her chin still caked with make-up and thick mascara on the curls of her eyelashes. Against the pale slate of her skin it made her look blotched and clownish.

I stretched my shoulders, half-closed my eyes, let my vision blur and then rested my right hand on her forehead. It was cold. That coldness always made me shiver. I undid my shirt a couple of buttons and reached below my collar bone. The switch on the interrupter was recessed. I traced its edge then pressed down, turning it off, stopping the current to the blocker in my brain.

The familiar feeling of mental whiplash made the sterile white room seem to move three feet forward then snap back. It disappeared, replaced by blackness. I steadied my feet against the solid floor and anchored myself to reality.

The pitch blackness suggested there was no work to be done, that whatever residual energy was left in the brain had dissipated. I went to turn the interrupter on again when behind me there was a loud hiss. A giant snake’s tail, outlined with a green shimmer, slithered into the black. When I tried to follow it, a wall blocked my way. It was constructed from solid granite blocks and reached endlessly into the sky. The wall was as solid as if it truly existed. The flat coldness of the stone reminded me of the girl’s head.

In a sickening movement I was on top of the structure, on a flat roof with castle battlements. Hissing, loud in my ear, turned to a growl. I twisted to face nothing but the noise. Tightness, like a rope around my neck, pulled me backwards and swallowed me into a black void. Falling, too fast, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, my skull pressurized, crushed. I screamed. The bones in my legs snapped up into my torso and my arms ripped off. The hissing rushed past what was left of my head before bright light hit me like an iron ball in the guts.

I jerked up and shouted. My head throbbed. White light spotted with silver swirled before my eyes. I was on the mortuary floor. I rolled to one side and threw up. My fingers scrambled for the interrupter and turned it on as Fielding rushed into the room.

What happened? She kneeled down and helped me sit.

The swirling silver was gone. A little bile surfaced in my throat and I spat it out. I must have looked pretty pathetic. I pushed myself up onto my haunches and groaned as my head dragged after me. Fielding took my arm and helped me to stand.

Where’s Brand? I asked.

He went to get coffee. Are you okay?

It happened quickly.

What did? Brand asked. He was stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, like he had better things to do.

I think he fainted, Sir, Fielding said.

I remembered the falling, the wall, the castle, the presence of the snake-like creature. I tried to formulate something out of the images. The acid taste of bile in my mouth distracted me. There was a presence.

A presence! Brand breathed out like he was expelling something painful. I don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. He walked out of the room.

How’s your head? Fielding asked.

It’s fine. I got up and rubbed the back of my skull. There was a lump that felt as big as a hurling