The Return of Beaumont and Beasley: The Janus Elixir and The Hound of Duville (Beaumont and Beasley Book 4)

by Kyle Shultz

  “None taken,” he replied. “Just because I’m the god of death doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  Persephone patted his arm sympathetically, and he clasped her hand. A wealth of unspoken words seemed to pass between them as their eyes met.

  “I want to know their story,” Melody whispered.

  “Some other time.” I cleared my throat and addressed Hades again. “So what exactly is going on? Your message was frustratingly vague. What’s been stolen?”

  “A brain,” said Hades.

  Melody made a face. “Eugh.”

  My jaw fell. “Wait a minute. You mean…”

  “Yes,” said Hades, with a solemn nod. “Somebody has taken the brain of a god.”

  Chapter 2

  Two-Faced

  “Why would anyone steal a god’s brain?” said Melody, as we followed Hades across the graveyard to a small mausoleum near the edge.

  “You should already know the answer to that,” I replied. “You’re aware of how alchemy works.”

  “Yes. Potion-magic. But that’s done with blood and hair and things from magical creatures.”

  “And vital organs,” I added. “If the potion-maker is cooking up something particularly dark.”

  Melody shuddered. “Right. But still, we’re talking about creatures.”

  “Indeed, we are. And if things extracted from magical creatures can be used to make potions, imagine what one could do with pieces carved out of gods.”

  Melody’s mouth made an “o”. “You think that’s what’s going on here? Somebody’s trying to create a…super-potion?”

  “Possibly, for lack of a better term.” I rubbed my chin. “At this point, I have more than one theory. Let’s examine the clues before we decide which path to follow.”

  Once we reached the mausoleum, Hades pressed his hand against the door. Locks clicked and whirred, and runes hovered in the air around the door before flickering and fading away. Then the stone panel slid aside to reveal the pitch-dark interior of the tomb. I snapped my fingers, and an orb of fire blazed to life near the ceiling.

  “Watch your step,” said Hades. “Bit of a mess in here.”

  The floor was covered with stone fragments. Mentally piecing a few of them together, I realized that they had once formed a rectangular slab of stone—one that should have been covering the sarcophagus in the center of the room. The walls were adorned with frescoes of a variety of scenes, from ancient history all the way to some time in the fifteenth century, if my guess was right. Most of them were fairly mundane: scholars studying, couples kissing, children playing. But each of them featured the same figure. A man with two faces, one in the front and one in the back.

  Which made sense, given that the skeletal corpse in the sarcophagus had two faces on its skull. The top of the skull, however, was missing, and the cranium was empty.

  “Ah,” said Melody, her face pale.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Not to worry. This isn’t my first dead body, and it’s been dead longer than most of the ones I’ve seen in the past.” Her expression turned from nausea to curiosity. “First one I’ve seen that had two faces, though.” She looked around at the frescoes. “What was he the god of, exactly?” asked Melody.

  “Several things,” I said. “Beginnings, gates, transitions, time, doorways, passages, endings. Basically, he was the god of dualities. Two in one. Hence the faces. Rather a minor deity in the big scheme of things.”

  “So how did the two-faces thing work? When he was alive, I mean? One of him was always going backwards; that can’t have been pleasant. Was half of him always dizzy?”

  “I never asked,” said Hades. “He lived a pretty good life, though, from what I could tell. Quite a few good lives, in fact.” He motioned to the paintings. “As you can see, he was a family man. Had to watch wives and children grow old and pass on without him more than once, but he kept marrying again. He said that the joy of being a father and husband outweighed the pain.”

  “I wonder.” The words crept out before I could stop them. I briefly hoped Melody hadn’t heard me, but from the look on her face, I knew she had. She was clearly waiting for me to explain further. I didn’t.

  After a few seconds of awkward silence, Melody gave up and turned back to Hades. “How did he die?”

  “Can’t tell you that,” said Hades sternly. “The records of the dead, past, present, and future, are sealed and kept in the vault of Anubis.”

  “Different god of death,” I explained.

  “No one can access them,” said Hades. “Not even me. That’s the law. But I can tell you that his death’s got nothing to do with this theft.”

  Melody frowned. “Are you quite sure?”

  “Very sure. It happened hundreds of years ago.”

  “Fine,” I said. “So this isn’t about his death. It’s about what happened afterward.”

  “Precisely,” said Hades. “Last night, someone sneaked inside the Abbey walls and broke into this mausoleum. Made a right mess of it, and quite a racket as well.” He gestured to the corpse. “The brain was the only thing he took.”

  “He?” Melody echoed. “You’re sure it was a he?”

  The god shrugged. “Pretty sure. Didn’t get a very good look at him.”

  “But if Janus has been dead for hundreds of years,” said Melody, “how was his brain even still there? Shouldn’t it have turned to dust a long time ago?”

  “The vital organs of gods decay a lot more slowly than those of ordinary creatures,” said Hades. “Their brains and hearts can remain more or less pristine for centuries.”

  “Hold on.” I held up my hand. “You’re saying that this thief got past the magical defenses of the Abbey, the god of death, his wife, and his three-headed dog? Coming and going?”

  Hades nodded. “That’s about the size of it. I heard him break in, of course, and we all tried to stop him, but he was too strong.”

  “Too strong how?” I pressed. “Physically, or magically?”

  “Both, I’d say. He knocked me and Cerberus down without much effort. Then Persephone tried to take him out with her magic, but he blasted it back in her face. Then he just nipped over the wall, and that was that.”

  “Well, then,” said Melody, “that narrows down the field, right? I mean, there can’t be many creatures powerful enough to do all that. Maybe the thief is another god.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  Melody rolled her eyes. “You never like my theories. What’s wrong with this one, then?”

  “Like I said, he was a minor god. Powerful, but nothing compared to some of the other residents of this cemetery. Zeus is buried here, for pity’s sake. I can’t even imagine what somebody could do with the brain of—” I hesitated. “Actually, perhaps Zeus is a bad example. Let’s go with Athena. Her brain’s downright scary.”

  “She’s still alive,” said Hades, “so she’s also a bad example. In any case, I don’t think this bloke was a god. Not sure what species he was, honestly. The way he used magic…it was strange. Wild and unfocused; not like anything I’ve seen before.”

  “So not a god, and probably not a Charmblood human, either,” I said. “Some other sort of creature.” Charmbloods were humans capable of harnessing runes and casting magic spells. Since I was a magical creature, I could do that by default. Melody, on the other hand, had no magical powers.

  “Hold on,” said Melody. “You’re looking at this from the wrong angle. Don’t get caught up in trying to figure out what species the thing was. That may not be important.”

  I stared at her. “Why on earth not?”

  “Because the thing that stole the brain might not be the one ultimately responsible for the theft. Maybe it was only sent by that person. The real question is, who would want the brain of Janus?” She looked from me to Hades, then back again.

  “Difficult to say,” said Hades. “There’s no telling exactly what the properties of Janus�
�� brain would be if somebody used it for a potion, so we can’t come up with any suspects from that.”

  “True,” I admitted. I began to pace back and forth across the tomb, sidestepping the pieces of the sarcophagus lid. “However…I do know of someone with a penchant for robbing dead people of their organs. In fact…” I paused for a moment, thinking. “Wild, unfocused magic, you said. Yes, it all fits. You were right, Melody, perhaps the thief and the person who wanted the brain are two different people.”

  “Of course I was right,” said Melody with a smile. “But what exactly are you talking about?”

  “Victor,” I said, biting my lip in irritation.

  “Victor who?”

  “Oh, you won’t have heard of him. He’s a medical-school dropout who likes to experiment with homunculi.”

  “Homunculi.” Melody sighed. “Great. New word for the day. What’s a homunculi, when it’s at home?”

  “The singular form of the word is ‘homunculus’,” I corrected.

  “And to answer your question,” said Hades, “homunculi are abominations.” He curled his lip. “Crafted from fragments of the dead using forbidden magical arts. Nasty. They were banned by the Council of Scions long ago.”

  Melody winced. “Does that mean that if we don’t put a stop to whatever’s going on, the Council might decide to get involved?”

  “Very possibly,” I mused. That was all we needed.

  “Then we should deal with him ourselves before that happens,” said Melody. “Do you know where we can find him, Malcolm?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said ruefully. “Though the last thing I want is to go there again.”

  “And you think he may have sent one of these home-monkey things—”

  “Homunculi,” Hades corrected.

  “—to take the brain?”

  “It fits,” I said. “Or at least the behavior does. The magical abilities Hades described aren’t something I’ve seen in any homunculus before, but perhaps Victor has upped his game.”

  “When you find him,” Hades growled, “let me know, so I can do my job.”

  “Wait, hold on, stop.” I waved my hands in the air. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have to try not to draw the Council’s attention.”

  “They don’t scare me,” Hades spat.

  “They should.” Shouting at the god of death wasn’t advisable, even for dragons, but I found myself doing it anyway. “Or have you forgotten what they did to Loki? And Bast? And who knows how many others? You buried them here yourself, remember?”

  Hades’ eyes blazed brighter. “I don’t need you to remind me of all the friends I’ve put in the ground, dragon.”

  “Then for the sake of your wife,” I argued, “try not to join them.”

  We locked eyes for what felt like an eternity, until Hades finally relented. “All right,” he snarled. “Fine. But get him dealt with quickly. I don’t want this sort of thing happening again.” He jabbed a finger at me. “And you tell this bloke, if he or any of his flea-bitten creatures come near my Abbey again, I’ll drag him to the Underworld personally, Council or no Council.”

  “Understood,” I said. “Just don’t do anything…rash in the meantime.” I’d come close to saying “stupid” instead of “rash”, but that would probably have been suicidal. “I’ll keep you posted. Whoever did this won’t go unpunished.” I looked at Melody. “Shall we get to it?”

  “Sure. Now, what’s the name of this friend of yours again?”

  “Victor,” I said. “Victor Frankenstein.”

  Chapter 3

  They Don’t Make Bodies Like They Used To

  “You’re joking,” said Melody, looking up at the gleaming white building before us. “A fine hotel in the upper-crust part of Talesend? This is where the big, scary mad scientist lives?”

  “I don’t remember describing him as big, scary, or a scientist,” I said. “He’s more accurately described as a mad alchemist. Science has very little to do with his chosen profession. It’s just magic with a heaping dose of stupidity.”

  “So if he’s such a troublemaker,” said Melody, “why haven’t you eaten him by now?”

  The blunt question took me aback. “Er…come again?”

  “Or at least chased him out of Talesend, or something.”

  I paused a moment before answering. “He’s…not really a bad person. He’s selfish, over-eager, and short-sighted, but not evil. Not yet, anyway. He reminds me of my s—” I broke off in the middle of the word. I’d said too much, but I couldn’t take it back. Melody had obviously spotted the metaphorical chink in my scales.

  “Your what?” she said. “He reminds you of your what?”

  “Myself,” I replied curtly. “He reminds me of myself when I was his age. Or thereabouts.”

  Melody shook her head. “I know that’s not what you were going to say before.”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Shall we go inside and get this over with?”

  We passed through the gold-plated swinging doors and into the main lobby. The Esterbrook was a private home that had been converted into paid lodgings when the owners fell upon hard times. It was considered one of the grandest places to stay in the whole of Talesend. I could see that Melody found the opulence dazzling—the marble floors and pillars, the bright red carpets, the curving staircase inlaid with gold. Personally, it struck me as a bit garish.

  A little old lady bounded out from behind the front desk with surprising agility and hurried over to us. She had a too-eager smile and a beehive of white hair. “Welcome, welcome, welcome,” she chirped. Three too many “welcomes” for my liking. “My name’s Harriet, and I’m here to help you get settled.”

  “Actually,” I said, “we’re not here to take a room.”

  “We’ve come to visit someone,” said Melody. “Victor Frankenstein.”

  I gestured to the staircase. “So, we’ll just go up and talk to him.”

  “No,” said the old lady, her smile remaining firmly in place. “I’m afraid you won’t.”

  I glared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Mr. Frankenstein has specifically requested that he not be disturbed. By anyone. I can’t allow you to visit him. I do apologize.”

  “But it’s very important,” Melody pleaded. “An emergency.”

  “Mr. Frankenstein was very clear. No emergency was urgent enough for him to leave his work today.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t mean this emergency,” I said through gritted teeth. “Trust me.”

  The old battleaxe remained unmoved. “As I said, he was quite clear, and if you don’t leave at once, I will be forced to summon a policeman.”

  I decided I had had enough. I leaned closer and spoke in a low growl. “Heed me, truculent crone. I have shattered empires and toppled kings. I have appropriated wealth beyond your puny comprehension. I have devoured gods without suffering even a hint of indigestion. So if you think that you, a mere babe in arms compared to my ancient and terrible majesty, are capable of forbidding me entry to any room in this pathetic little boarding house of yours, then you are about to—”

  “Here,” said Melody, reaching past me to rub a few gold coins together in the woman’s face. “We’ve come to see Victor Frankenstein. How do you feel about letting us in now?”

  After less than a second’s hesitation, the old woman snatched the coins away from Melody. She bustled away without another word.

  “I had that under control,” I informed Melody as we started up the stairs.

  Melody snorted. “Well, pardon me for deciding it would be best if tomorrow’s headlines didn’t read ‘Dragon Devours Little Old Lady’.”

  “Good heavens, no, I wouldn’t have eaten her. She’s probably too stringy to be remotely edible.”

  Once we reached the second floor, we made our way down the hall to Victor’s door. Even if I hadn’t known the number, the door was unmistakable. There were scorch marks of varying sizes and shapes streaked across i
t, and the “4” in the number had loosened and turned upside down.

  Melody gave the door a dubious look. “Bit of an odd place for a mad scientist—alchemist, whatever—to pick as his lair, wouldn’t you say?”

  “What were you expecting, a big scary castle? Lightning and gargoyles, that sort of thing?”

  She shrugged. “Possibly. Yes.”

  “Too expensive. I used to have one of those. Seriously, you’ve no idea how much they cost to maintain. The drawbridge alone—”

  “Right.” Melody tapped her foot impatiently. “Shall we get on with it?”

  “Oh, well, if my past is boring you,” I huffed.

  “It’s not exactly boring me, it’s just that there’s so much of it.”

  “And now you’re calling me old. Any other insults you’d like to add?”

  Melody clicked her tongue. “Infant. I’m working with a six-thousand-year-old infant.”

  “In any event,” I said, ignoring the barb, “young Victor will get his castle one day, when he inherits it from his father. Heaven only knows what sort of nightmare he’ll turn that into. For now, his family’s content to pay off expensive hotels so that he’s not carrying out his alchemical pursuits under their ancestral roof.” I raised my fist and knocked on the door.

  “Go away,” said a petulant, Grimman-accented voice from inside. “I am dead.”

  I folded my arms. “Really? Dead and talking?”

  “Precisely. Which should make you even more reluctant to bother me.”

  I ground my teeth. “All right, fine. If you won’t be reasonable…” I drew in a deep breath, and smoke began to curl from my nostrils. This was going to be fun.

  Or rather, it would have been, if Melody’s booted foot hadn’t struck out and bashed the door near the handle, breaking the latch.

  My breath came out as a smoky sigh of frustration. “Would you stop doing that?”