The Beast of Blackslope

by Tracy Barrett

  They crossed the street and went into the bookstore. It was empty except for a short, round man who sat in a wheelchair behind a small desk near the back. The nameplate on the desk read HAROLD TUTTLE. “Morning,” he called. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’re looking for books on local history,” Xena said.

  “Right over here.” The man rolled his chair past them and down a dark corridor.

  Xander studied him as he passed. The man had thinning pale hair and wore black trousers and a black T-shirt. On the T-shirt were printed the words FRODO LIVES. On the legs of his trousers were several gray hairs.

  “What’s your cat’s name, Mr. Tuttle?” Xander asked. “Gandalf, right?”

  “That’s ri—” The man broke off and stared at Xander. “Here, how’d you know my cat’s name? How’d you even know I have a cat? And how’d you know my name?”

  “I like finding things out about people, that’s all. That line on your T-shirt is about The Lord of the Rings, and you have gray cat hairs on your pants. Gandalf the Grey is one of the main characters in The Lord of the Rings. So I figured you’d probably name your cat after him. And your name, well, it’s on your nameplate.”

  “Just like Sherlock Holmes, you are,” the man said.

  Xander beamed. “He was our great-great-great-grandfather, actually!”

  “Are you two detectives, then?”

  “Well, sort of,” Xena answered. “Xander and I are investigating one of Sherlock’s old cases—the Beast of Blackslope. And I think you know all about it, Mr. Tuttle!”

  CHAPTER 6

  Now it was Xander’s turn to be surprised. “No way!” he said. “How could you possibly figure that out, Zee?”

  “Elementary, my dear Holmes,” Xena said with a grin. “Mr. Tuttle wrote a book about the Beast.” She pointed at the shelf where dozens of identical paperbacks leaned against each other forlornly. The spine on all of them read The Beast: Blackslope’s Monster. Under it in larger letters was the name H. Tuttle.

  “Good detective work!” Then the man’s face fell. “My book is self-published, and it isn’t selling too well. But the truth should be known, even if people round here want to pretend it never happened. They’re afraid. Afraid to believe there might really be a Beast.”

  “So what do you think actually happened back then?” Xena asked.

  “Well.” Mr. Tuttle sat back and made a steeple with his fingers. “Here’s the real story. It’s all in the book, of course, but I’ll summarize for you.

  “The last time the Beast appeared was in the early nineteen hundreds. The two people most involved were James and Adeline, the coachman and cook up at the manor. James was a great brute of a man—they say he could knock down a draft horse with one blow of his fist. And he had a jealous, evil temper, especially when it came to his wife.

  “Adeline seemed quiet and meek, but James always swore that her mother had been a witch and that Adeline had learned spells and potions from her. If James ever raised a hand to her or their children, the next day he’d be clutching his stomach in agony, or all covered with spots, or shivering with a fever.”

  “You mean Adeline fed him poison!” Xena exclaimed.

  Mr. Tuttle blinked at her. “No one ever caught her at it, but James said she did. Now I’ve lost my train of thought. Where was I? Oh, yes.

  “Well, apparently one morning Adeline came to work in the great house, pale and trembling. She said James had put a curse on her. She didn’t say what kind of curse, but she was clearly terrified. ‘I am doomed,’ she kept saying, and no one could tell her any different. And that very night the Beast made its first attack. A farmer near the manor found one of his sheep torn apart, as if by a ravenous monster.”

  “Ugh.” Xander shuddered.

  “The night after that, a young man coming home late from the pub was chased by a gigantic shaggy creature that he swore had foot-long claws and fangs. The next night, another farmer’s chicken coop was destroyed and the chickens scattered. Each incident was nearer to the manor. Step-by-step, the Beast was making its way to its victim. And then it appeared outside James and Adeline’s window—they lived in a room built onto the back of the stables. Two days later …” Mr. Tuttle paused dramatically. “Adeline vanished. And she was never seen again.”

  “Sherlock’s notes didn’t say anything about a curse,” Xena said.

  Mr. Tuttle sniffed. “Perhaps the great detective wasn’t as great as all that. Perhaps he didn’t know about the curse. After all, he never solved the case.”

  Xena was stung at the insult to her ancestor. “Anyway, I thought Adeline was supposed to be the witch, not James. How would James know how to put a curse on her?”

  Mr. Tuttle leaned forward. “Now that’s an interesting question. Of course, there’s no way to be sure. But I have a theory. There was a circus in town that summer. Circuses always have fortune-tellers and people like that. They camped on the grounds of the manor, in fact. I believe James found someone there to help him with the curse.”

  “Hmmm.” Xena wasn’t convinced.

  “Scoff if you like,” Mr. Tuttle said. “But if you’re wise, you’ll take care. Because the Beast is back!”

  CHAPTER 7

  Xander felt a sudden chill run up his spine even though he didn’t really believe in monsters, and Xena couldn’t hold back a gasp. Mr. Tuttle sounded so convincing.

  “How do you know?” Xander asked uneasily.

  “The signs are all around us. Surely you’ve heard the strange howls in the night. It’s been going on for more than a week now. And something broke through a farmer’s fence last night and took one of his sheep. All he found was some bloody wool. Exactly the way it happened more than a hundred years ago. History is repeating itself.”

  Xander’s eyes widened. But before he could ask another question, the bell at the door tinkled, and Mr. Tuttle wheeled away to help the customer who had come in.

  “What do you think?” Xander pitched his voice low so that Mr. Tuttle wouldn’t hear.

  “I don’t believe it.” Xena could be so very stubborn. “How do we know it isn’t some vandal, like some kids who are bored out here in the country and wrecking things for the fun of it? Or some wild—”

  She stopped herself but Xander knew she’d been about to say “wild animal.”

  He pretended not to notice. “Well, whatever it is, it’s an awful lot like what Sherlock described.”

  “Exactly,” Xena said. “Which means we should find out who—or what—is doing it and stop it if we can. That’s what he would have wanted.”

  She didn’t need to say whom she meant by “he,” and Xander knew he couldn’t argue. Being a descendant of the great Holmes was exceptionally cool, but having his book of unsolved cases was also a big responsibility.

  Xena pulled a copy of Mr. Tuttle’s book off the shelf and leafed through it. Xander looked over her shoulder.

  “Who’s that?” He pointed at a black-and-white photograph of a thin-faced woman in a dress with a high neck. Xena moved her thumb down from where it was covering the caption. “‘Adeline Daniels,’” she read.

  Xander looked up at Xena. “That’s the cook!”

  She could tell that something was bothering him. “What is it?”

  “She looks familiar. I wonder—”

  Just then the cell phone they shared rang. Xander fished it out and looked helplessly at it. It was one of their mom’s new test products. It supposedly had great reception and could take excellent pictures and videos. The problem was that he hadn’t figured out how to answer it.

  “Give me that.” Xena snatched the phone from him and punched a button. “Hello? Oh, hi, Mom. Okay, we’ll be right there.”

  She punched another button and said to Xander, “We need to get back.”

  “Be careful!” Mr. Tuttle called after them. “The Beast is out there!”

  “We will,” Xena called back. “Thanks!”

  “Do you think he could be right?” Xande
r asked his sister as they walked down the street. A chill went through him as he pictured the creature Mr. Tuttle had described. “Do you think the Beast really is some kind of demon? And now it’s back?”

  “Of course not. That’s impossible.”

  Right, Xander told himself. Demons are impossible. But this time Xena’s certainty didn’t convince him. Something was out there making those awful howls. “Well then, how do you explain all the signs Mr. Tuttle talked about?”

  Xena frowned. “I don’t know. Yet.”

  Well then, how can you be so sure? Xander wanted to ask. But he didn’t want Xena to know how much the idea of a demon beast spooked him. Instead he said, “Hey, look,” and pointed to the window of the real estate office, which they were passing again. “Here’s a sign for that sale Mom wants to go to. ‘Antiques, heirlooms, one-of-a-kind family pieces,’” he read.

  “Look, there are oil paintings too.”

  “And an ‘eighteenth-century commode,’” Xander read. “Huh? They’re selling an old toilet?”

  A burst of laughter behind them made them turn around. A sandy-haired boy about Xander’s age, wearing a soccer jersey, was standing on the sidewalk watching them. “A commode is like a bureau,” he said. “You know, with lots of drawers to store things in?”

  “Oh,” Xander said. “Back home some people call a toilet a commode when they’re trying to be polite.”

  “Back home is the States, right?”

  Xena and Xander nodded.

  “My name is Trevor,” the boy went on. “And you’re Xena and Xander.”

  “How did you know?” Xena asked.

  “My grandparents own the B and B where you’re staying,” Trevor said. “I was spending the night at my friend’s house when you got in, but my grandma told me about you this morning.”

  “You live with your grandparents?” Xander asked.

  The boy nodded. “My parents travel a lot for business. They think it’s important for me to have a stable environment so I stay with my grandparents. I like it here in Blackslope, but what I really want to do is go to Australia. Have you ever been?” They shook their heads. “I want to travel in the outback. I want to be a naturalist and study kangaroos and dingoes, and learn to play a didgeridoo.”

  “A what?” Xander’s head was spinning from all the changes of subject.

  “A didgeridoo,” Trevor said. “It’s a kind of Australian instrument. You blow into it. It looks sort of like a long wooden tube, and it sounds really cool.”

  “So if you want to be a naturalist, you must know a lot about the wildlife around here, right?” Xena asked.

  “Sure.” The boy shrugged. “Not that there’s much. Rabbits, foxes—”

  “What about the Beast of Blackslope?” Xena asked. “Did you hear that howling last night?”

  Trevor stopped talking as suddenly as if he had been a TV and someone had punched the Off button. For a second his mouth hung open, and then he shut it with a snap.

  He cleared his throat. “What time did you hear a howl?”

  “I don’t know,” Xena said. What an odd question. “We heard three, right, Xander?”

  He nodded. “Two yesterday right at dusk and then I heard one in the middle of the night. It woke me up.”

  “I don’t know what you heard,” Trevor said. “But you’d better be careful.”

  “Careful about what?” Xander asked. But Trevor turned and walked rapidly away.

  “I wonder why he doesn’t want us looking for the Beast.” Xena frowned.

  “Maybe he’s right,” Xander said.

  Xena knew she shouldn’t but she couldn’t help saying, “Xan, there’s nothing dangerous out there. This is just a sleepy little—”

  “How do you know?” he shot back. “Anyway, I’m not afraid!”

  “You’re not?”

  “No way!” Just the idea of the Beast made him want to run all the way back to London. But he wasn’t about to admit that to his obnoxious sister.

  “Oh, come on.” She sounded disgusted. “You’ve been afraid of wild animals ever since that raccoon bit you when you were little.”

  “Well, it was scary. And then I had to get all those shots. They really hurt. And anyway, you’re afraid of being in small, tight places!”

  “What does that have to do with anything? You’re still afraid of wild animals, and we may be hunting for one.”

  “I’ve gotten over it.” She rolled her eyes and this made him so furious that he spat out without thinking, “Fine. We’ll go in the woods together to look for this Beast. And I bet I’ll find it before you do!”

  CHAPTER 8

  “There you are!” their father said when they pushed open the door of the B and B. “You’re just in time. We need you to break a tie.”

  “A tie?” Xander asked. “About what?”

  “Your mom wants to check out the preview at the sale.”

  “What’s that?” Xena asked.

  “They put everything that’s going to be sold on display a day or two ahead,” their mother explained. “That way you can examine it and have time to think about what you might want to buy and how much you want to spend.”

  Xena and Xander groaned. “And I want to take a hike,” their father said. “I need to try out those new boots. So we thought we’d leave it up to you two.”

  “Hike!” they both said, and their mom laughed and said, “Okay, I know when I’m outnumbered. Which way should we go?”

  Xander promptly said, “South.” He glared at Xena, daring her to say something. He was going to prove to Xena that he wasn’t afraid—and he was going to look for clues!

  “Why south?” their father asked.

  “That’s the direction those woods are in, isn’t it?” Xander asked. Their father nodded. “Well, don’t you want to see some wildlife?”

  “You? Wildlife?” Their mother looked surprised. “Anyway, I thought you liked London!”

  “We do,” Xena said. “We do, a lot. It’s just that it will be nice to get out in the country.”

  “Okay,” their mom said. “Let’s get some picnic supplies so we can spend all day exploring.”

  “There’s lots of cool stuff around the place we’re going.” Xena was reading the guidebook.

  Xander was looking straight out the windshield—or the windscreen, as it was called here—and let her read to him. He knew if he read even a few words in a moving car, he’d get so carsick they’d have to pull over. “Like what?”

  “Like the ruins of an old temple and rock formations and things.”

  Xander nodded, still looking ahead. A huge mass of something white was moving across a field. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Oh wow!” Xena cried. “It’s a flock of sheep with one of those herding dogs! I’ve always wanted to see that!”

  Their father stopped the car, and for a while they sat and watched the beautiful black and white dog cleverly maneuvering sheep down the field and through a narrow gate into a paddock. As the shepherd passed near them he raised his hand briefly in greeting. In a moment the sheep went over a low rise and out of sight, and their father started up the engine and they drove off.

  They drove farther on and got out of the car and climbed enormous piles of rocks, speckled with moss and lichen, which the guidebook said were the foundations of an ancient Druidic temple. They ate their picnic perched on the ruins and went back to exploring.

  All day long, though, Xena and Xander couldn’t stop thinking about the Beast. As they climbed around the huge rocks of the temple, Xena was thinking, I wonder what kind of creature could make that weird footprint Sherlock drew in his notebook. She kept her eyes peeled for a footprint, a tuft of fur, a broken branch, anything out of the ordinary.

  Xander was thinking, There’s got to be a way to solve this case without an actual Beast encounter. He scanned the countryside from the highest rock, hoping for a long-distance glimpse of something large and brown and shaggy. He couldn’t help feeling they were gettin
g close to something scary. Every shadow made him jump, and once, when a hawk shrieked in the air above him, he nearly fell off the rocks he was clambering over.

  “Boy, I’m tired,” their mom said as she climbed into the car at the end of the day. “Let’s get back and see if Mrs. Roberts has any coffee in the kitchen. Tea’s fine, but …”

  Xander relaxed with relief. He wasn’t going to have to confront the Beast after all—at least not today.

  “But, Mom,” Xena said, “you said we could go to the woods. We haven’t seen anything wild today.” Shut up, Xander thought.

  “Except for that spider that went down your shirt,” their dad said, steering around a rut in the road. “I don’t know which was wilder, you or the spider! I haven’t seen you hop around like that in a long time.”

  Xena had looked pretty funny when she felt all those legs tickling down the back of her neck. Xander would remember that the next time she teased him about his fear of wild animals. At least he didn’t screech at a harmless little spider.

  “You promised,” Xena said.

  “We didn’t promise,” their father said.

  He’s so unfair sometimes, she thought. That was practically a promise. And we were on his side about going for a hike instead of to the sale preview!

  “And we’re tired,” their mom said. “We’ll have plenty of chances to go exploring tomorrow. There’s a walking tour of local sites of interest tomorrow morning. How does that sound?”

  Xena and Xander looked at each other. Boring, each could almost hear the other thinking. And they were nearly at the woods. If a beast was hiding—and howling—around here, it was probably living among the shadows of the trees, Xander thought. Otherwise people would have seen it, wouldn’t they?

  A few small clouds were making soft streaks across the sky. “Ooh, that’s so pretty,” their mom said. “Can you pull over for a minute? I want to take some pictures. The manor house we just passed is so pretty in this light, and the clouds are gorgeous.”

  “I thought you were in a hurry to get back,” their father said. He slowed down the car and put on the blinker.