Shadows and Lies: The Underland Files, #3

By Robin Hart

Nobody to trust. Nobody will help. But my parents need me, and now I have to discover how far I'll to go to save them.
My parents were taken hostage, and despite me saving Underland from invasion, nobody will help me get them back. I have to take more and more into my own hands. I hate the lying, and I hate how it makes me feel. Old friends betray me, and when help does come, it's from a source I find difficult to trust.
Shadows and Lies is the third volume of the Underland Files, by Robin Hart; a dark adventure in a fantastic, magical world, for Young Adults of all ages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Metaphoric Media
• Release date: Dec 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223175858

Book preview

Shadows and Lies

Robin Hart

Copyright © 2023 by Robin Hart

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S./UK copyright law.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

Cover art by the awesome folks at MIBL Art www.miblart.com

Dedicated, as always, to my wife,

without whom none of these books would ever see the light of day.

Note:

This novel is a re-working of

Underland: Warrior Stone Book 1,

undertaken with the permission and support

of the original author, R B Harkess.

Contents

1.One

2.Two

3.Three

4.Four

5.Five

6.Six

7.Seven

8.Eight

9.Nine

10.Ten

11.Eleven

12.Twelve

13.Thirteen

14.Fourteen

15.Fifteen

16.Sixteen

17.Seventeen

18.Eighteen

19.Nineteen

20.Twenty

21.Twenty-One

22.Twenty-Two

23.Twenty-Three

24.Twenty-Four

25.Twenty-Five

26.Twenty-Six

27.Twenty-Seven

28.Twenty-Eight

29.Twenty-Nine

30.Thirty

31.Thirty-One

32.Thirty-Two

33.Thirty-Three

One

When I die.

I stared at the hateful words, handwritten in bold capitals, on the envelope that lay slightly askew on my father’s desk. My cheek tickled, and I brushed aside the tear before it could drop onto the paper.

My name is Claire Stone. I’m a Year 10 student, and a Warrior in Underland. Don’t worry. It will all make sense later. Maybe. And my father isn’t dead, but he might as well be.

Which is all my fault.

I had to open the letter and look inside, but it felt so wrong. It wasn’t for me. The letter was for my mum. But she, like my father, was in hospital, locked in a magical sleep I had forced them both into. My face scrunched up and more tears came. I’d had no choice. It was for their protection, as well as mine.

I poked the envelope with my finger, straightening it. It had been two days since Stuart brought me home. I had been in a fight, a magical fight with someone who should have turned me into a smear of red on the floor in an instant. But I won, sort of, though the battle hurt me in ways I was still trying to understand. Even the thought of trying to use magic brought me unbearable pain now, and I can’t get back to Underland.

I looked at the pocket watch that hung from a stand in the centre of my dad’s desk. It was a prize or a present. Whichever, he was crazy proud of it. But it was motionless, and a cold sickness weighed me down, when I thought of all the stories where watches or clocks stopped when their owners died.

The doorbell rang, and I flinched. Stuart had promised he would give me a ride to the hospital, but I had lost track of time, and I had forgotten about the letter. When I opened the door, Stuart held out his spare helmet.

Ready?

I shook my head and opened the door wider. Stuart took the hint and stepped inside. He asked, What’s up? then raised his eyebrows when I closed the door. I said nothing, but jerked my head to say he should follow me as I trekked back to the tiny, messy room my dad used as his man-cave. I pointed at the desk. Stuart leaned forward to look.

Oh.

Should I open it?

And you’re asking me because…?

I held out my hand for him to shake and watched Stuart’s face fall. Not much, but I could see it. I was reminding him, in a way, of how badly had betrayed me. But just as much, I was reminding him he was one of the few people I knew I could trust.

He reached out and took my hand, and we both twitched at the faint tingle of magic, much suppressed in our world—the Over—but still there.

Because you have to be honest with me, I said. Tolks wove the spell between us weeks ago. After Stuart betrayed me, he claimed he hadn’t known how bad things would get. When he offered to help, to make up for things, I wanted to rip his throat out with my teeth. But I also knew I needed more help than I had, and a part of me wanted to believe him.

Stuart took a breath and grimaced before he answered. Yes, you should open it. There may be stuff in there you don’t want to see, but things are still happening around you that need sorting. Have you told his work yet?

I shook my head. Stuart lifted the envelope from the table and handed it to me. For an instant I resented him for touching it, and for making me touch it, and I snatched it from his fingers. As I slipped a finger under the loose edge of the flap, I gave him the best smile I could manage to say I was sorry. I tore the envelope open and took out a single, handwritten sheet.

My Darling Alice

I know you know, but I have to say it because if you are reading this I probably can’t say it again. I love you, and I love Claire, more than I love life itself, and I shall miss you both for eternity.

My will is in the bottom drawer of my desk, where the files live. In the same envelope is a memory stick with all my accounts and passwords on it. It’s encrypted, and the password is the name of the hotel we went to on that weekend your parents thought you were sleeping over at Helen’s. You may need to get Claire to help you with that.

A snuffly chuckle forced its way out, and I scrubbed my sleeve under my nose. So true. Mum was a determined technophobe and seemed to go out of her way to avoid learning how to do anything. The next paragraph gave details of whom to contact at Dad’s work, then went on to more personal thoughts I didn’t feel comfortable reading. I took out my phone, copied the email of my dad’s boss, then put the letter back into the envelope.

Hard? asked Stuart.

I nodded and found another tissue to wipe at my nose.

You still want to go to the hospital?

Another nod. But I need to send an email first.

Stuart followed me up to my bedroom. Cleaner not come this week, then?

I winced and wished I asked him to wait downstairs. The mattress was on the floor, slashed and gutted. Stuffing from the pillows and quilt covered the room like snow and most of my clothes were ripped from their drawers and closets and thrown around the room.

Have you had a buglary?

I kept the smile inside, but I loved the way his accent mangled words sometimes. The smile wouldn’t have lasted long, anyway. No, my parents did this. Well, the Morphs inside them. No idea what they were looking for, but it must have been important to them.

The computer desk was on its side, but the laptop looked undamaged and booted when I poked it. Surprisingly, the Wi-Fi and broadband were still up too. I opened an app to email my father’s boss.

You know you can’t stay here, don’t you?

I swivelled my chair and glared at him. He had perched on the end of my ruined bed and looked concerned.

Why not? I snapped.

Come on, Claire. I know you’re all independent and look after yourself. You wouldn’t be a Warrior if you couldn’t. But the system will catch up with you if you try to go it alone here. There must be some family you can call?

It’ll be fine. I turned away, not wanting him to see I knew he was right. I hadn't been able to face my room until today, and I had been crashing on the couch in the living room. Even that felt wrong, because the last time I had seen Mum sitting on it, a Morph already possessed her .

Trust me, you do not want the social sticking their noses in.

The thought of someone digging into the mess that was my life grated on me.

How, Stuart? How do I explain I’ve put my parents in to an induced sleep because monsters from another world infested them and tried to capture me because I messed up a Morph Lord’s plan to take over yet another world? Social services? I’m more worried about being sectioned. How much good would I be to them on some loony ward pumped so full of stay-calm and don’t-care that I can’t take myself to the toilet?

I was shouting now, but I couldn’t stop myself. In fact, it felt good. Stuart took two short steps from the bed, sank to his knees next to me, and put his hands on my shoulders.

And if the sosh get to you, that would be what happens. There must be someone in your family you trust? Or you can work around?

His hands were warm and strong on my shoulders, and I wished he might lean just a little closer and wrap his arms around me. Nobody had hugged me for days. But I had too much to do. I let out a short sigh, which Stuart took entirely the wrong way, and he let me go. But he earned himself a gold start for not trying to make something of the situation. I turned to the keyboard and finished the email, but in the back of my mind Stuart’s last words whispered over and over, making me feel ugly and soiled.

Who was there in my family I could most easily manipulate?

Two

D 'you not want me to hang around for company? Stuart’s eyes darted around the hospital room and he shifted his weight between his feet. He had sat with me day after day, watching one or other of my parents. Which I appreciated all the more when I discovered hospitals creeped him out. I shook my head and settled in the chair next to my mother’s bed.

I’m going to have enough fun explaining when my nan turns up. Throwing a boyfriend into the mix so soon would probably overload her.

We had already dropped in to visit my father. He was down to a single drip in his arm and a monitor pinched over his finger. The tube up his nose made me feel sick every time I saw it. Other than that, his skin was a good colour, and his lips were pink and not pinched.

Mum was much the same, except for the dressing on her wrist. I couldn’t look at it and folded the blanket over it every time I sat with her.

The reason I couldn’t look was because I did it. I smashed my mother’s arm against the car door until it gouged into her flesh. It wasn’t her in control at the time, and I know I had to get away from her, but it still twisted my gut every time I saw the dressing.

Is this woman a nun or something?

It took me a moment to realise Stuart was talking about my nan, not my mother. I managed a smile I didn’t really feel.

You never met my mum, did you?

Stuart shook his head, looking confused.

Scatty didn’t cover it. Inside, her head must have looked like a dandelion clock.

More confusion, then a smile of dawning comprehension.

It runs on her side of the family, so Nana’s not much better. I thought about that, nipping my bottom lip under my teeth. Actually, she might even be worse.

So this is going to overcome you in a few years and you’ll turn into a cat lady?

I snorted. I can think of worse. Anyway, she said she would get here about now, so…

So you want me to bugger off? I’m just your personal Uber, aren’t I.

I nodded. And I don’t even pay you.

He grinned as he picked up the helmet he loaned me. Do you want me to come by later? To pick you up?

I shook my head. I’ll text you. Or something. Might be a day or two. I need to wait to see how things work out.

There’s that thing with the Council tomorrow. Can you jump in on your own?

I turned my thoughts towards jumping, that subtle twist of reality with a dash of magic that would drop me into Underland. Needles of red-hot pain stabbed into the backs of my eyes.

Guessing that’s a no. Stuart winced and must have seen the pain in my eyes. Call me. We can sort something. I don’t think Tolks would want you to miss it.

I nodded. Stuart took the half-dozen steps around the bed, leant down, and kissed my cheek. Be careful.

I frowned at him for stealing the kiss, but I couldn't stop the corner of my mouth hitching up in a half grin. It was nice to know someone still cared for me, and he was keeping a respectful distance between us while I was so very messed up. He gave me a wide smile and strode out of the ward like he was seven feet tall.

I turned back to my mum and took her good hand in mine. Knowing something else was living inside her body tormented me, but I couldn’t convince my heart that the person lying in front of me wasn’t the same one who gave birth to me and cared for me for the last fifteen years. My teeth scraped against themselves as my jaw clenched. I would find a way to fix this, no matter what the council said. If it could be done, I could undo it.

A hand touched my shoulder. I flinched and my head was already twisting around, expecting a nurse to ask me to move out of the way. Then I realised how small the hand was and saw the dandelion explosion of white hair atop a tiny figure. A moment later I was holding on to Nana May like I was drowning, feeling arms and bags wrapping around me as I bawled into her coat.

Perhaps I should put these down before we fall over and break something?

Nana May’s voice was soft and carried a permanent hint of uncertainty. I reluctantly let go and Nana took a step back. She was a couple of inches shorter than me, slight of build, and had no discernible dress sense—as demonstrated by the purple herringbone coat and the teal green tracksuit. She dropped a carrier bag on the end of the bed, then let her oversize canvas handbag—more the size of a sack—slide off her shoulder to join it. I steered her towards the chair I just got out of and stole another from one of the unoccupied beds.

She started digging out paper bags of grapes and oranges and looked around for somewhere to put them. I took them from her, put them back on the bed, and eased her down into the chair.

You know she’s asleep, don’t you?

Well, I know what you told me on the phone, but that didn’t mean to make much sense. I mean, she has to wake up some time, so I brought some things. Is there a doctor I can talk to while I wait?

I looked around for anybody my nan could speak to, but the side ward was empty. There were only four beds in the room, and only one other of those had an occupant. The nurses’ station outside was empty, too. I went back to Mum’s bed.

Can’t find anyone, but I don’t think they can tell you more than I already know. I tried to keep my face from showing that I knew a damn sight more than the doctors or the nurses, and that if I told her what was truly going on, they would lock me up in a nice, cosy straitjacket. There was a car accident, Nana. Mum and Dad were asleep when the ambulance got there. Not a coma, or anything like that. Just asleep.

That still doesn’t seem right. When did all this happen?

Ten days ago.

Ten days? And nobody thought to call me? What about your father’s parents? Have you told them?

They’re dead, Nana May. You went to Nana Jane’s funeral three years ago, before we got the new house?

Nana frowned, then shrugged. If you say so, dear. Didn’t he have a brother?

I kept my face as straight as I could. I didn’t like Uncle Dean and trusted him less. Since Nana Jane died, every time he and my father met, they argued, and from what I heard, it was always about money. It took my dad days to get over every visit.

"I haven't told him yet. They never got on. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. They were just asleep. I thought they would wake up in a day or so.

Nana May patted my hand. That’s all right, Claire. I’m here now.

And it was ridiculous how much better that made me feel.

We took an expensive taxi back to the farm. I tried to explain there was nothing there I needed, but Nana wasn’t listening. Or maybe it was because I couldn’t explain that most of my things were in a secret room behind a clock in a Grenlik hive in Underland. Either way, I had to think of ways to keep Nana out of the ruins of my bedroom while I gathered enough to keep her happy. I sent her looking for water stopcocks and gas valves, arguing it would be safer to shut the house down if there was nobody living here. While she was distracted, I filled two more bags with stuff, which I guessed looked a reasonable amount, then we spent a while chucking out all the food that would spoil.

Then we called another, even more expensive cab to take us away. It was so hard to lock the house up when the cab arrived, and I couldn’t shake a feeling I would never come back to it. I checked I had locked the workshop door too, then climbed into the cab next to Nana.

My grandmother’s house was tiny. A two-up-two-down mid-terraced cottage in a slightly tatty but still civilised area of North London. As I stood at the doorway to Nana May’s hobby room, I was relieved I already had most of my stuff elsewhere. I couldn’t see enough space for a bed, let alone for the contents of my bags. I folded my long Warrior’s coat into a bundle then put it, and the rest of my world, under a table already holding a sewing machine and an embroidery frame. A half-stitched cat glared back at me, judging me through its one finished eye. I turned around to ease myself out of the room.

What a beautiful pendant.

Nana May was standing right behind me—in front now—and I almost bowled her over. May I see it?

She had her hand out, and it took me a moment to understand she was talking about my Kevlar, the Underland amulet that protected me from physical or magical attack. While I was down there, at least. What good it could do me while I was up here in the Over was