The Nightmare Tree

By D.A. Schneider

Young Jeffery is an orphan with a special gift. He can see ghosts. When the boy is abducted, Ghost Hunter Z is recruited to find him, surprised to discover another who shares his talent. The hunt will lead him and his new associate Rudder Wallace to The Nightmare Tree, a realm populated by twisted creatures and an ancient deity intent on keeping the boy right where he is. Meanwhile, Inspector Grant is on the case, following clues to find the kidnapper. The evidence leads him and the rest of the team to a new threat in the form of a skilled magic user who's willing to perform unspeakable acts out of desperation. What sinister plot has been set in motion? And who is pulling the strings from behind the scenes? Before Z can discover the truth, he must first survive The Nightmare Tree.

• Language: English
• Publisher: PoeBoyPublishing
• Release date: Feb 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005148614

D.A. Schneider

Hello, fellow fans of the written word,I'm excited to be on Smashwords and I hope to connect with readers and fellow writers through my storytelling.My road to becoming a published author was a long one. After self-publishing a few books with little success, I decided to take my latest novel to the Kindle Scout website, where readers can nominate books to be published by Amazon. Though I just missed the mark there, Ghost Hunter Z did get noticed by an independent publishing house in the U.K.I signed a three book deal with KGHH Publishing in early 2017 and book one of my trilogy was released in September that same year. Through those early novels and the editing process with my new publisher, I feel my writing has improved greatly and I love sharing my stories with you, the reader.Ghost Hunter Z came about one late Halloween night as I watched a marathon of Ghost Adventures and thought to myself, how incredible would it be if a real ghost just showed up, right there on TV for all to see. No weird sounds or vague shadows, but a full on spirit. This led to to the creation of my ghost hunter, who has the ability to see ghosts, and I mixed in a bit of Ghostbusters and dropped my hero in a steampunk, Victorian London setting.Z's partner in the books, Inspector Charles Grant, was inspired in appearance and personality by the actor Robbie Coltraine, known for his voice acting in various movies as well as From Hell, Ocean's 12, and most notably the lovable half giant Hagrid in the Harry Potter series.The sequel to Ghost Hunter Z is called The Nightmare Tree and started out as a poem I wrote that was inspired by a nightmare my son had when he was 5. He described the strange dream to me in great detail and I was shocked at the odd things that had popped into his brain at such a young age. Especially since his mother and I were very careful at what kind of material he and his brother were exposed to in TV, movies and games.2017 also saw the first publication of several short stories I'd written and submitted. Kavidian was the first of these. A sci-fi tale that was split into two parts in the May and June issues of The Scarlet Leaf Review. This was followed by my comedy Masque of the White Christmas in the June issue of Storgy. Later that year, my fantasy short The Naglis Uprising was selected to appear in the short story anthology UNBOUND: The Clarion Call book 3. In 2018, my fantasy short Rosemary appeared in the online magazine Across the Margin, my horror short Horror on the Housetops was included in the holiday anthology RED Christmas, and my short stories Apparition and The Lost Van Gogh appeared in separate anthologies last year.So, I've built a nice publishing resume over the last couple of years but recently, through a conflict with my publisher and Amazon, my two Ghost Hunter Z novels were pulled from the Kindle. And since this deal was exclusive to Amazon, the books weren't available anywhere else. Now, I'm happy to report, I've signed with Stargazing Publishing UK and both Ghost Hunter Z novels are set for relaunch in the coming weeks for all reading platforms, followed by the third and final book in the trilogy this fall.So, where does Smashwords come into play? Here, I will release a few short stories, and with the help of my editor, revise those first 5 books I self-published and release them here with all new content and covers, starting with The 9 Ghosts of Samen's Bane. A plethora of horror delight is heading your way, dear reader. Stay tuned for more.D

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

London

December 15, 1883

Fate is a vicious bitch.

Jeffery had learned this at a very early age. The very instant his mother decided she’d had enough of his father’s abuse and took an ax to his head. That was the moment it dawned on him for the first time. When she was arrested, and subsequently hanged for her crime, it only served to drive the point home. When the bloodied form of his father and the broken necked image of his mother appeared in his room at the orphanage, their miserable arguments continuing unabated even beyond death, that proved his hunch once and for all.

Fate is indeed a vicious bitch.

As he cleaned himself in the tepid water of the bath, it occurred to him again. Something was wrong. It was a feeling he had. Something in the atmosphere of the orphanage didn’t seem right, as if the air itself had grown thick with static. It was heavy with anxiety and something else. Something chilling. Jeffery was sure something bad was going to happen. Something awful. And it was going to happen soon. There was nothing he could do but wait and see what wretched hand fate would deal him next.

Once he was clean, Jeffery dressed in his night clothes and left the wash room to prepare for bed. Most of the other children were in their beds already and dropping off to dreamland. He always seemed to be last in getting to the bathroom, and tonight Jeffery was sure there would be no sleep for him. The disquieting feeling was still scratching at the back of his mind like the skeletal hand of a reanimated corpse.

Sister Shelly, Jeffery said to the nun who ushered the children into their beds nightly. I’m afraid something bad is going to happen.

Please, Jeffery, the nun said, shooing him toward his bed. You mustn’t say things like that. You’ll frighten the other children.

But it’s true. I have a bad feeling.

Jeffery, you are completely safe here in the orphanage. Now please, get to bed.

Jeffery walked on, sullen. Sister Shelly was most often kind to the children, but she wouldn’t stand for anyone dallying before bed time.

Henry sat in the hall, mumbling to himself as always. Jeffery waved to the man and said goodnight, and though Henry waved in return, he otherwise didn’t acknowledge the boy, even though Jeffery was the only one that could see him there. Henry had been acting strange lately. It was late. Jeffery always being the last to get use of the washroom was a pain when it came to getting to sleep. It made getting to sleep all the more difficult when everyone around you had already drifted off, snores billowing through the room.

***

It was just one hour later that Jeffery heard the voice. A man whispered in his ear. A man who had broken into the orphanage and somehow found his way to Jeffery’s bed. Jeffery cringed as he listened to the awful voice. Time to go, little crumpet. The master awaits.

Then all went dark as a bag was pulled over Jeffery’s head.

***

The slender man skipped through the trees with a lunatic laugh pouring through his crooked teeth. There was no real thought in the mush that made up his brain, only a vague desire to cause mischief and get into trouble. With the moon tucked behind the snow-filled clouds, the only light that shone on the forest floor was that which bloomed from the strange man’s torch-lit eyes. The man was unaware he was being followed.

Epping Forest is a stretch of ancient woodland that sits between north-east Greater London and Essex. Among the typical wildlife that can be found in the woods, there are some beings that are just as ancient as the forest itself. Much like the mischievous man with his mad thoughts and blazing eyes.

A loud snap from behind him and the man stopped. He turned. The woods were quiet. No animal sounds. Most were in hibernation for the winter. Another crack, this one from his left. The man turned back to find nothing but the trees that seemed to close in around him.

***

Another man watched from nearby. The mythical man with shining eyes was confused, but not scared. Beings like this one know nothing of fear and the watcher is well aware of this fact. The watcher found another rock and he threw it high over the head of the mad man to the other side of the trail. The mad man turned at the sound and the watcher saw his opportunity.

Moving quietly, the watcher lunged forward with dagger in hand and, suddenly, became a killer. The killer brought the knife down and the blade sank into the mad man’s head. A haunting scream broke the silence of the wood and the mythical being fell to the ground, his head split open and spilling the muck inside all over the ground.

It all went better than the killer had hoped. As the innards of the mad man’s head soaked into the soft dirt of the trail, the killer moved back into the trees from which he’d sprung, and hefted a large canvas bag over his shoulder. Inside the bag, a boy struggled.

The killer moved back to the body of the mad man with the sliced open head and watched. And waited. And soon, from the middle of the muck and seeds that passed as the mad man’s brains, something began to grow.

CHAPTER TWO

Stacey Rudder Wallace drained his third pint and ordered another.

From the far corner of the pub, Z watched the big man in the bowler hat as he drank and got louder and less belligerent with each drink. It was time to approach him before more ale was consumed, but Z knew he’d have to approach with tact. He had to appeal to Rudder’s interest and that should be easy enough, what with his interest being in ghosts and Z being a ghost hunter.

Z had done his research and found that Rudder Wallace was obsessed with the spirit world. Always one to volunteer for excursions into graveyards at night or forays into notoriously haunted structures all around London, Rudder was exactly the kind of man Z needed as a new assistant. The problem was in the approach. Wallace was notoriously foul tempered and this was only made worse by generous amounts of Guinness. However, he was nearly as easily angered while sober. Z had found, upon observation, that there was a window of opportunity, around the fourth pint, where Wallace seemed almost jolly.

Z stood and moved through the crowd. The pub was crammed with revelers and the pipe smoke was so thick it was nearly solid matter. Z deftly slipped through the crowd and maneuvered closer to the bar where Rudder Wallace was engaged in friendly (although incredibly loud) conversation with a short, balding fellow nursing a whisky. All was going as planned, until a man stumbled and slammed into Z just as he neared Wallace. Z fell into the large man and knocked his pint to the floor.

You spilled my pint, Stacey Rudder Wallace’s grumble boomed over the noisy crowd.

Oh dear, Z said. I’m terribly sorry. Let me buy you another.

Wallace pulled back and threw a right hook, catching Z across the jaw and dropping him to the floor. Z felt as if his brains had been scrambled. He reached for the nearest barstool and started the difficult process of pulling himself up. Before he could stand upright, Wallace had grabbed hold of his collar and lifted him off the floor. Z was airborne for a split second before pain erupt in his back and he realized he’d hit the front window of the pub and was tumbling out onto the cobblestone street.

Z’s body was racked with pain. He stumbled to his feet in time to see Wallace maneuver through the door that seemed too small for him, with a half empty whisky bottle in his hand that he clearly intended to use to finish the job he’d started by bashing Z’s brains in. Knowing he was no match for the man in hand to hand combat, Z pulled his coat aside and deftly pulled a revolver from the holster at his hip. One shot shattered the bottle in Wallace’s hand. The second removed the bowler hat from his head.

Wallace froze, his hands out as if he were suddenly afraid to move.

Is a spilled pint really worth dying over, Stacy? Z asked, pulling the hammer back on the gun once more to prove he was serious.

Wallace looked at him with confusion. You know me?

By reputation only, Z said. I’d come here to offer you a job. I need a man with your particular set of skills.

What skills would that be?

Your big, strong, and a hell of a fighter. And I’m in need of a new servant.

Wallace laughed. I serve no man.

Very well, an assistant then.

Wallace shook his head.

Bodyguard? Laborer? Call it what you will. The point is, I need help with my work and you are the ideal candidate. Especially considering your fascination with ghosts.

Wallace looked taken aback. Ghosts?

That’s right. I hunt them for a living.

Well, I’ll be, the large man said, a grin spreading across his face. Are you the ghost hunter what saved the city from those monsters?

Z eased the hammer on the gun and dropped it to his side, his swelling ego getting the better of him. That’s right. Ghost Hunter Z.

The big man stared at him in awe, his grin growing even wider. And you came here looking for me?

I did. My job offer is sincere.

Wallace rubbed his chin thoughtfully. What exactly will my duties entail?

Z holstered the gun and bent to retrieve his Stetson. Well, there are horses to tend to, equipment to haul from job to job, assistance in flushing out and capturing spirits, various chores around the shop, the occasional perturbed customer that would need to be intimidated or even roughed up, plus any number of odd jobs that may require your attention. And the pay would be more than adequate for your services.

The large man thought about it a little longer, then said; Alright, I’ll take the job, on two conditions.

Name them.

I won’t be referred to as a servant or assistant. Associate should do I think.

Agreed, Z said with a shrug. And the second request.

Wallace came closer and in a very serious tone said; Never, ever, call me Stacy. Rudder is the only name I’ll answer to.

Consider it done. Rudder.

Right then. When do we start?

***

The two of them started the next morning. Rudder arrived promptly at the shop, with horse drawn handsome-cab. Z greeted the big man with a tip of his hat. Rudder. Punctual and well-dressed. I approve.

Rudder ran a hand over his short-cropped, greying hair and smiled. Well, wouldn’t do to get off to a poor start on the first day, right?

Right.

Yeah. We’ll save that for the second day.

Z studied the man a moment before breaking in to laughter. So, Rudder Wallace has a sense of humour under that rough exterior. Good to know.

Rudder chuckled. Where to?

The home of Mrs. Sylvia Brownstone.

As you wish.

We have a busy day ahead of us, my new-found-friend. I hope you’re prepared.

I’m ready for anything.

The cab pulled away from the tiny shop and made its way across town. Z sat in back and gazed out the window, where on the cobblestone streets the dead mingled with the living without the latter being aware of the former’s presence. This still baffled the ghost hunter, even after all his years of seeing the dead. How there could be so many of them walking among those that still took in breath. Those who had hearts that still pumped blood. Z sat back in his seat and forced his thoughts toward more pleasant topics. Like Sheila.

Some nights he couldn’t sleep because he missed her so. There had been other women, one could hardly be expected to remain faithful for such a long time apart, but none were Sheila. The love of his life was out there somewhere, solving her own mysteries using her psychic gift. Z wondered how much longer he’d have to suffer without seeing her. At least he had his work to keep him busy. Business had been booming after his recognition in the battle against Asmodeus. His small steam-powered containment unit was becoming over-crowded with ghosts that were too dangerous to be let loose in a graveyard where they could find their way into more trouble. Sylvia Brownstone had invited him to tea with the promise of a solution to this problem.

The grounds of the Brownstone house were meticulously manicured as ever and when the cab pulled around the semi-circular drive and came to a stop, Lady Brownstone stepped from the front door to greet them, now relying on her cane to help her walk far more than she had before. A visit from the ghost hunter had always brightened her day, and it warmed Z’s heart to see the joy on her face as he stepped from the cab.

Good morning, my dear friend, Z said as he embraced her. He was somewhat startled at how frail and thin she seemed in his arms. Still, he kept his tone cheerful. I’m so glad to see you up and about.

And I’m happy to see you, Lady Brownstone said in return. I can’t wait to be regaled with more of your adventures. But, first, I have tea waiting in the library and a steaming hot coffee for you.

Much appreciated, madam. I could use it to shake off this bitter cold weather. Z motioned to the large man at the reigns of the cab. Allow me to introduce my new...um, associate, Mr. Rudder Wallace.

Wallace climbed down from the cab and kissed Lady Brownstone’s hand with a bow. Pleasure to meet you, Missus.

My, aren’t you a big one, the old woman said. Please, come in out of the cold. I have plenty of tea to go around.

Rudder looked in Z’s direction as if searching for approval and Z nodded happily. The two men followed Lady brownstone into the house, through the foyer and down the hall to the impressive library. Z had spent many hours in the room pouring through her numerous volumes on the supernatural, legends, and myth. It was in this very room where Lady Brownstone had been attacked by an unseen force-none other than Asmodeus-in an attempt to prevent her finding information that would lead to stopping the ancient deity from attacking the city. Of course, determination was one of the Lady’s many attributes, and she’d still managed to rip the page she needed from a book and get it to Z when afterwards he visited her in hospital where she lay broken and battered.

So, Z, what adventure do you have brewing tonight? And what happened to your eye? Lady Brownstone asked as she poured a cup of tea.

Z said. Rudder and I were just working out a problem last night and my eye took the brunt of a suggested solution. And how do you know I have anything planned for tonight?

Oh, I read the papers, I am well aware of how busy you’ve been lately. I imagine your days of falling behind on the rent are behind you.

Further behind than you know. I’ve just purchased the entire building. Now, I will play the part of annoying landlord.

Oh, how wonderful, the lady said.

Z felt pride swell in him at the Lady’s approval, as if she were his own grandmother and her praise was a constant prize for him to seek.

Very impressive, Rudder said from the end of the table, where he had dropped two sugar cubes into his cup of tea and was in the process of stirring it with a tiny spoon, his pinky finger held up as if he were a dainty school girl trying to look proper in front of guests.

Yes, well you know me. Always on the lookout for ways to turn a buck, or a pound, I should say.

Lady Brownstone clapped her bony hands together with excitement. This plays perfectly into the reason that I asked you here today. My niece is looking for a new flat. Perhaps you have the room in your building?

Your niece? I was under the impression you had a solution for my ghosts overcrowding problem.

My niece is the solution you seek. She’s an inventor. A rather brilliant one too. I think she’d make a wonderful addition to your operation. She only recently lost her laboratory, evicted by her landlord because of the noise coming from her flat at all hours of the night. The place was far too small for her in any case.

Z sat back and thought about this new information. There is a rather spacious basement in the building, I’m sure the noise wouldn’t be a bother to other residents. My own shop and flat sit between them. Do you think she’d be able to create a chamber large enough to hold these spirits?

Absolutely, my niece can create nearly anything she puts her mind to. Z heard the door open and close from the front of the house and Lady Brownstone added; Ah, that should be her now.

The woman that appeared in the doorway was an outright mess. Her petticoat was covered in soot, face smeared with grease, and the goggles she wore upon her brow were all that held the mane of fiery red hair in check. Her hazel eyes looked tired behind the round spectacles that sat on the bridge of her nose, and beneath the grime, Z could see a bed of freckles spreading over her cheeks. Aunt Sylvia, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d have guests.

It’s alright, Helena dear. Come, say hello to my very good friend, Ghost Hunter Z and his associate Mr. Rudder Wallace.

Z and Wallace stood and greeted the young woman in turn, but Helena only looked between the two of them with an untrusting eye. I’ll leave you to your guests Aunt Sylvia.

She turned to leave, but her aunt called to her. Helena, don’t be ridiculous. My friend Z is here to help you. He has a place for you to stay and he is in need of your special talents.

Zat right?, Helena said, suddenly interested. What is it you need Mr. Ghost Hunter?

Please, call me Z, the ghost hunter said. Won’t you join us for tea?

The woman considered the invitation a moment, then moved around to take a seat next to her aunt. As she poured tea in the cup in front of her she asked. Well, Z, what can I help you with? Helena said Z as if the