Sabotage at Somerset: A charmingly fun paranormal cozy mystery (Oxford Key Mysteries Book 4)

by Lynn Morrison

  His transformation happens so fast, none of us have time to react. Edward and I are frozen in H's long shadow, staring agape. Fenius squawks in shock at the sudden loss of his advantage.

  H, now a gargantuan winged daemon, throws his head in the air, shooting a jet of flames into the sky, lighting up the garden as bright as day. Then he tosses his head in the other direction, his jaws open wide, and he snaps his mouth shut over Fenius so quickly that a muffled caw is our only hint of what has happened to him.

  H swallows, burps a cloud of black smoke, sneezes and shrinks back to his normal size.

  Edward and I look at one another, disbelief written across our faces, desperate to know whether we imagined the last few moments or if they actually happened.

  H coughs, attracting our attention. He spits out a single black feather, sending it sailing into the air, and then wipes his mouth with the back of his scaly hand.

  "Lor luv a duck, mates. I 'ate it when I 'ave ta eat one of them feathered fiends. Birds always give me 'eartburn."

  Chapter Fifteen

  I am full of questions for H, but I shove them aside when Beadle, Hobbes, and their henchman emerge from the greenhouse, spreading out as they close in on Edward and I. Hobbes takes up position on the far right, sneering cruelly. Beadle stands in the middle with his hands on his hips, his face red with anger. Ike is on the far left, grinning eagerly at us as he swings a giant club in his hand, anticipating violence.

  Beadle alone looks upwards, searching the skies for a sign of Fenius.

  I slip from Edward's embrace, twisting around to stand at his side, but letting my hand trail down his arm until I reach his hand. Sliding my fingers through his, I stare stoically at the trio who are determined to kill us all. Not one to be overlooked, H leaps into the air and flies up to hover next to me, evening the odds. Three against three. I think we can take them.

  Hobbes must read the confidence in my face. He booms out a mocking laugh, waving his arm at us. "Look at the three of them, men. They actually think they still have a chance of escaping us. Ha!"

  I square my shoulders, unfazed by Hobbes' taunt. My head may be pounding, my wrists slick with blood, but I am far from ready to fall at his feet and beg him to let us live. Seeing H transform into a nightmarish creature from the pages of a fairy tale has reminded me of one fact — we all have our secret strengths and powers.

  Edward squeezes my hand, letting me know he is beside me. H never shifts his gaze from our enemies, as black smoke spirals from his nostrils.

  Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I meet Hobbes' gaze. "I'll admit that Ike is fearsome, but you other two? A snivelling rat and a doddering old fool? Now that you've lost your advantage, you might as well pack it in."

  Hobbes winks out. For a moment, hope rises in my chest; perhaps he has taken my words to heart and has run for the hills. But he reappears seconds later, quickly followed by another man. My eyes grow wide as I recognise the bald medieval man H and I chased through the Covered Market. Then another cloaked man appears, armed with a fiery torch.

  By the time two more Eternals join them — a haggard old crone and a masked executioner — I realise our odds are no longer so even. These are all characters from the Torture Museum, plucked from their displays to stand against me and my friends. They cackle and crow, rubbing their hands together in excitement or brandishing their weapons menacingly.

  I do my best to hide the wave of fear that rushes over me, but my legs and arms tremble ever so slightly, begging me to take flight while I still can.

  I glance first at H. He seems undaunted. His wings flap gently, hovering in place, and he huffs a small flame, almost as though he is laughing back. From where I'm standing, however, it is impossible to tell whether it is pure bravado or if H has another trick up his sleeve.

  Edward's squeeze of my hand pulls my attention away from H. He meets my eyes, his gaze silently urging me to stay strong. I quirk an eyebrow up, but he gives a tiny shake of his head, refusing to explain the source of his confidence.

  It is a make-or-break moment. Do I trust this man and this creature to keep me alive? I roll my shoulders back, tightening my muscles to cease the trembling.

  Beadle opens his mouth, undoubtedly preparing another taunt, and Hobbes raises a hand, to silence him. Of the three, Hobbes seems to be the one to realise something is off. He stares at us, his narrowed gaze hunting for an explanation as to why we are still standing there instead of cowering.

  Beadle, however, refuses to be quiet. He paces forward two steps, and sneers. "Still here, Natalie? I assume by his absence that you must have defeated Fenius, but don't let that go to your head. You haven't a hope against my army of Eternals." He spreads his arms wide. "Look at them, Natalie. Each one more bloodthirsty than the next. They live for pain and suffering… your pain and suffering."

  I tighten my grip on Edward's hand, unable to stop a hint of fear from creeping across my face.

  Beadle spins around, addressing his crew. "What say you, Eternals? Shall we give Natalie a head start? Seems only fair seeing as no one else is coming to save her and her friends."

  "I wouldn't bet on that, Beadle!" Kate shouts, her voice hoarse with anger as she steps out from behind a nearby garden shed with Bartie at her side.

  "How delightful!" Beadle jeers, unfazed. "So pleased you could join us, Kate. This will certainly make things easier for us. Here I was, worried how we'd get you alone, and you've presented yourself, practically on a platter." He turns, nodding at his old crone. "Griselda, make her suffer before you kill her." The old crone smiles, flashing fanged teeth.

  "She hasn't come alone," a voice calls from the river. Mathilde floats up in a rowboat, Trevor seated beside her. Trevor stands up and leaps onto the riverbank, pulling the boat close and helping Mathilde step out. I stare, unable to believe they are here. Somehow Mathilde has not only convinced Trevor that magic is real, she's also managed to bring him here to stand at our side.

  A spark of hope flickers in my chest. With Kate, Bartie, Mathilde, and Trevor here, we are evenly matched. That spark bursts into a flame of confidence when my grandfather appears at my side. He pats my arm, but never shifts his gaze from Hobbes.

  "You're outnumbered, Beadle," Trevor calls out in a mocking tone. "We've got prefects, Eternals and even the police represented here. Seeing as you are the only one who will end up in jail, if you give up now and turn yourself in, you'll have a much better chance of negotiating a plea."

  I hold my breath, waiting to see how Beadle will react. I don't have to wait long. He stares at Trevor, his face growing more and more red until his veins stand out on his forehead. "Give up? I will never give up!" he shouts. "Look at me! Look at my army! They will eat you weaklings alive!" He growls, shaking his finger at Trevor. "I am connected to the magic now. There is no way you can hold me. My Eternals will find a way to free me." Beadle widens his stance and raises his hands above his head. "No one can stop me from ripping the magic away from Oxford!"

  His words echo across the garden, his intent clear. There is no chance he will see reason. If we want to take him down, we will have to fight. I glance down at my bloody hands, my head still pounding. How much worse will I be in the end? How will my friends fare? This isn't what we wanted or intended! How did things go so wrong?

  Daring to look at my friends, I notice that strangely, none of them exhibit any signs of worry or anxiety. They are all looking straight forward, unbowed by Beadle's threats. I choke back my fear and frustration, forcing myself to stand tall against the pain. Clearly, my side has one final card to play.

  Beadle's army of torturers sink into fighting stances, preparing to launch themselves against us as soon as Beadle gives the command. They jeer and chant, hurling threats at us. Beadle basks in front, letting the sounds of his Eternals fill him with strength and determination. He opens his hands wide, preparing to call his troops forward, when suddenly, two men appear in front of him.

  I recognise Wilkins right away, having made h
is acquaintance mere hours ago — was it only this morning that Molly found him? At his side stands none other than Sir Christopher Wren. With his Roman nose and cleft chin, and his dark hair pulled back in a style identical to the one Caleb Farrow has been sporting on set, he looks practically regal.

  Wilkins and Wren stand shoulder to shoulder, looming over Beadle. Beadle splutters, unsure of the identity of these new arrivals or the threat they might pose.

  Hobbes doesn't have the same problem. He shoves the henchmen aside, stepping through the group to join Beadle out front. "Wilkins and Wren," he hisses. "Just in time to witness your downfall!"

  Wilkins glowers, leaving Wren to respond.

  "No, Hobbes…" Wren lets his voice trail off, gathering his words. "What happened to you, man? You had an incredible mind once. But you couldn't stand to be questioned and could not admit your mistakes. You were only ever interested in proclaiming your genius, not in contributing to the greater good."

  Wilkins picks up the thread. "Look at what you've become, Hobbes. Bloodthirsty, cruel, and insensitive. Four centuries of eternity have wrought a terrible change, the worst of aspects of your personality twisting a once great philosopher into a story book villain."

  Beadle shifts uncertainly, unable to understand what is happening. "Get rid of them, Hobbes!" he shouts.

  Wilkins exchanges looks with Wren, the two men in silent communication. They must reach some decision because they turn their attention back to Hobbes.

  Wilkins' voice booms over the garden. "Thomas Hobbes, tonight we called together the Eternals within the Convocation House. They have heard our case and you have been judged. You have sought to twist the magic, causing damage and injury to others… and even death. We Eternals have found you guilty. The punishment is final death."

  Without another word, Wren pulls a copper knife from his hip and stabs Hobbes in the heart. What happens next is obscured by a brilliant flash of light. When I can see again, Hobbes and all the Torture Museum Eternals have disappeared. Only Beadle is left standing alone.

  ❖

  "Where are they?" Beadle asks, looking around with confusion. "What have you done with Hobbes and the others? When did the wyvern turn into a cat?"

  I blink rapidly, unable to comprehend his words. I turn to Edward for an explanation, but all he offers is a grim smile as he squeezes my hand.

  Trevor marches forward and grabs Beadles' arms, forcing them behind his back. He reads off the caution as he locks handcuffs around Beadles' wrists.

  When he finishes, Wren stares at Beadle with profound sadness in his eyes. "Oswald Beadle, with the final death of your ancestor, your connection to the magic of Oxford has been severed. You can see me now only because I choose to make myself visible. Any magic you attempted to stretch to London is gone as well. The magical borders are now back as they should be."

  "You will face a trial by your own peers, Beadle," Trevor assures him, as he hauls him up straight. "We have more than enough evidence to convict you of kidnapping and attempted murder of Natalie Payne. I suspect we can add theft, arson and Andrei Radu's murder to the matter after we search your museum in London."

  As Trevor calls in for a team of investigators and paramedics, Mathilde and Kate dash over and throw their arms around me, enveloping me in a giant three-way hug. I let myself burst into tears, overcome with emotion.

  "You all came!" I finally manage to choke out, still hugging my friends tight.

  "Of course, we came!" Mathilde replies. "When Edward phoned to say you were missing, we were terrified, Nat. You should have seen H. I had no idea he could fly that fast."

  "Oh my goodness, H!" I extricate myself and scan frantically around me, looking for the hero of the day. "Aaitchhh!"

  "'Ere I am, Nat!" he shouts back, winding his way through Edward's and Bartie's legs. He scampers across the ground and leaps into my arms. On any other day, he'd grumble at my attempts to give him a hug. But not today. After the last hour of our lives, there is nothing we need more than to reassure one another that we are alive and in one piece.

  "How did you do it, H? One moment you were your normal self, and then a second later, you were towering over us. Was it some kind of one-off trick the magic allowed you to do to protect us?"

  "Err," H replies, shrugging his shoulders. "That was my real size, Nat. Wyverns are 'uge, don't ya know? Tha only reason I can stay this size is because 'umans think I'm a cat."

  "What!" I exclaim, stunned by his reply.

  "Ya can 'ardly blame me, Nat. In my natural size, I can't fit through tha doorways and I was ferever crashing my loaf against the ceiling. I got inta tha 'abit of staying small and almost fergot myself that I 'ad an alternative."

  I press a quick kiss of thanks against his snout before he can stop me. "I'm glad you remembered. And I'm sorry you had to choke down that old crow to save us. I foresee a lifetime supply of Lincolnshire Poacher in your future, H."

  "Wot about some Stout ta wash it down?" H asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

  "The first round will be on me," Edward offers, coming up behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. "I'm sorry to interrupt your reunion, but the paramedics are here and they need to check you over, Nat."

  I submit after glancing at my wrists, horrified to see how bad they are. The excitement and fear of the moment had helped me hold pain at bay, but it all comes crashing back when the paramedic begins cleaning my cuts. Edward stays at my side the entire time and H and my grandfather take up posts nearby, neither of them willing to let me out of their sight.

  Seeing them there, I understand how scary the evening was for them. I might have been the one tied to a chair and threatened with physical harm, but they were dealing with the unknown. They would have torn Oxford apart at the seams to find me, and I have never before felt so loved and treasured.

  After wrapping my wrists, the paramedic convinces me to come to the hospital to have my head wound checked. They offer Edward the chance to accompany me in the ambulance, and of course, H and my grandfather pile in as well. The ride is tense; I have a million and one questions for them, and I’m sure they do for me. I'm desperate to know how Mathilde convinced Trevor to join in, and how they organised everyone's arrival. It’s frustrating to hold questions back until I'm in a private room in the A&E to wait for a doctor.

  My grandfather and Edward refuse to tell me anything until I recount my own adventures, so I hurriedly share my tale, starting with my run-in with Wilkins and my decision to visit the Botanic Garden. My grandfather looks fit to be tied, mostly with Wilkins. "He should never have dismissed you like that, Nat. You are the prefect. You deserve a minimum of respect!"

  I shush him before he can carry on too much, wanting to finish my explanation. I fast-forward to when I woke up, bound and gagged, my discovery of the sharp nail under the chair, and my attempts to keep Oswald Beadle talking long enough to give myself a chance at getting free. "He wasn't terribly bright," I mention, to nods of agreement. Nonetheless, they are all suitably impressed with my ability to keep a clear head under incredibly trying circumstances.

  My grandfather caresses my cheek and then bends over and gently kisses my forehead. When he straightens up, he has a strange gleam in his eye.

  "Did you know that your father was born in this very hospital?" he asks. I shake my head. "Back in those days, men weren't allowed in the delivery room. I must have worn a hole in my shoes, pacing up and down the hallway while I waited for news. I was terrified that something would happen to your grandmother or to the baby. As scary as that day was, it pales in comparison to when I found out you had gone missing."

  "I was scared too, Grandfather. But I knew I had to find a way to get free of that chair and stay alive long enough for you all to figure out where they were hiding me. I never doubted you would get there in time to save me."

  "You did a lot of the work to free yourself, Nat. I'm just glad we got there in time to stop them from doing anything worse." Edward chimes in from my other side.
/>   H had been the first to notice my absence, when he came to Somerset College to find me for lunch. One of Somerset's Eternals remembered seeing me leave, but no one knew where I had gone. H then alerted Edward, who rang my mobile, and when an hour went by without a response, they called in the troops. Kate, Mathilde, Bartie, and every Eternal in Oxford were pressed into action to help with the search.

  "Mathilde thought of tracking the location of your mobile phone. She set off to find Trevor, determined to get him to listen to reason and help. Luckily, she did. He was able to narrow the search area to the Botanic Garden, but we didn't get the information until well near midnight," Edward explains.

  "Edward and I 'eaded straight ta tha garden ta find ya, and tha others were due ta follow behind," H adds, lifting his head up from where he is curled near my feet.

  "Did you know what Wilkins and Wren had planned for Hobbes and Beadle?" I ask when they finish. "I didn't know it was possible to sever someone's connection to the magic."

  My grandfather frowns, his forehead creasing. "Wilkins and Wren were the only Eternals who knew that secret, and they didn't share the full plan with any of us. I knew they were up to something when they called an emergency convocation of the Heads of Eternal Affairs. Together, with Bartie's help, they presented their case. The verdict was unanimous. It was a harsh punishment, but I cannot deny that it fit the crime. It was the only way Wilkins and Wren could ensure Beadle would be stopped."

  "What will happen to Beadle now? Will I need to provide a statement? Or testify in a trial?" I shiver at the thought of standing before a judge and trying to explain what happened without referring to the magic of Oxford.