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

by Kyle Shultz

  “’Dragon Burns Hotel to the Ground’,” Melody quipped. “You’d be quite the celebrity if it weren’t for me.”

  “I wouldn’t have burned down the whole building!”

  “Didn’t you mention something rather incriminating to me a while back about the Great Fire of Talesend?”

  “I never said anything whatsoever about that,” I fumed. “And besides, it wasn’t entirely my fault.”

  “Did you break down my door just so I could hear your bickering more clearly, or were you actually planning to come in and bother me more directly?” demanded Victor. He was sitting at a desk in the corner of the room, comparing two different test tubes of brightly-colored liquids—one green, the other blue. He had a wild shock of blond hair and piercing, somewhat unsettling eyes. The thick glasses he wore made them look even larger and more bizarre. He was dressed in a white lab coat blotched with multicolored stains. The room looked as if it had been struck by a tornado. Papers, bottles, books, and beakers were strewn randomly all across the floor, the furniture, and every other possible surface.

  I marched inside, Melody following close behind. “Victor, we need to talk.”

  “Fine,” said Victor. He tossed both test tubes over his shoulder, and their contents burned two holes in the threadbare carpet. “I can pencil you in sometime next year, I think.”

  “Now,” I insisted, with a glare that could have melted steel. Literally.

  “I told you,” said Victor, through clenched teeth, “I’m busy. The whole future of alchemy could depend on what I’m doing here.”

  I sighed. “I didn’t want to have to get rough with you, Victor, but needs must.” Just as he was about to bend over his microscope and dive back into his research, I grabbed his arm, intending to drag him out of his chair and make him listen.

  His arm popped off.

  It came free in my hand as if Victor had been nothing more than a poorly constructed doll. His empty sleeve fell limply at his side. The whole affair didn’t seem to bother him much, however. He looked at the detached limb, then at me, a reproachful expression on his face.

  “Now you have done it,” he scolded.

  Melody made a noise like “Eep.”

  “What in blazes…” I muttered, tossing the limb aside.

  “I worked hard on this one,” said Victor, “and now you have gone and ruined it. Well done.”

  With that, his head fell off and thudded onto the desk amongst his scientific paraphernalia.

  Chapter 4

  The Doctor and the Monster

  Melody swallowed hard. “You know, I’m really not a squeamish person, but all the same, this is a bit much. I thought you said your friend was a doctor, not a monster.”

  “That is not Victor Frankenstein,” I insisted. I poked the headless, one-armed body, and it slid off the chair. The eyes on the detached head had drifted shut. “And besides, he isn’t a doctor; he’s a medical school dropout.”

  “Excuse me!” The angry shout came from the bed across the room. A young man in a nightgown sat up and threw back the covers. He was identical to the person we had just been speaking to, except that all his body parts appeared to be firmly attached.

  “I did not ‘drop out’ of medical school,” he said as he flung a dressing-gown around his skinny frame. “I transcended medical school. Those fools could never have begun to imagine the great work I am achieving now.”

  “What,” I said, “making copies of yourself that fall apart?”

  “Why would you even do that?” exclaimed Melody.

  Victor pointed to the remains of his duplicate. “That is not merely a copy. It’s an extension of my consciousness. Or at least it was, until you started knocking its head off.”

  “It’s a homunculus,” I explained to Melody. “Though not like any I’ve ever seen before. Victor didn’t make them in his own image when he started out. They were basically patchwork-quilt people. Lots of mismatched pieces cobbled together to create something approximating a human.”

  “Ugh.” Melody curled her lip at the fallen homunculus.

  “I have learned how to channel my own thoughts and will through them,” Victor explained, taking the glasses from the discarded head of his doppelgänger and donning them himself. “Which removes my need to forgo work in order to sleep. My true body can catch forty winks while my mind continues working through one of my creations. And there aren’t even any side-effects!” he added, as his left eye twitched and his right pupil grew to twice its normal size.

  “Fascinating,” I said. “So I presume Victor Two there is one of your new breed of homunculi I’ve heard so much about.”

  Victor’s eyes narrowed behind his ridiculous glasses. “What?”

  “You know. The ones with magical powers.”

  “None of my homunculi—”

  “The ones,” I pressed on, “who break into Thanatos Abbey and steal brains from lesser gods.”

  Victor pulled off his glasses to clean them, improving his appearance somewhat. “Given the oddly specific nature of your sarcastic remarks, I can only assume that you are trying to accuse me of something. Would you care to come right out and explain what you are talking about?”

  “Give it up, Victor,” Melody urged. “We know everything. Hand over the brain. Unless you’ve already used it to create something disgusting, in which case I’d rather you left it wherever it is.”

  “What brain?” Victor spluttered.

  “The brain of Janus has been taken,” I said. “And the evidence points directly to you. Care to explain yourself?”

  “I have never met this woman Janice before in my life!” he thundered. “And I certainly did not steal her brain! She is lying! How she is managing to lie without a brain, I have no idea, but—”

  With difficulty, I restrained myself from devouring him on the spot. “JAN. US,” I said, very loudly and slowly. “The god Janus. Doorways, dualities, et cetera. He’s buried in Thanatos Abbey, and last night, his brain was taken by some huge, feral creature with magical powers. You’re the one who’s usually in the market for things like brains, and feral creatures are your specialty, so you can understand why we’ve fetched up on your doorstep.”

  Victor jumped to his feet. “Excuse me, Mr. Blackfire, but what exactly do you take me for?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

  “I know that my sanity has been questioned at times, due to my willingness to challenge the boundaries of...of...”

  “Sanity?” I suggested.

  “…but I am certainly not insane enough to trifle with gods, living or dead.”

  Melody cast a glance at the homunculus. “Not insane enough? You’ll forgive me if I have trouble believing that.”

  “Also,” said Victor, “to my knowledge, it is not possible to bestow magical powers upon artificial creatures such as my homunculi. Magical properties can be conferred to an object, but the ability to wield magic—that is limited to those beings who are truly alive. The very nature of magic demands this.”

  “And you’re quite certain you haven’t found a loophole in that rule?” asked Melody.

  “I doubt it,” I said. “That’s one of the less breakable laws of magic. But even if the thief wasn’t a homunculus, Victor, perhaps it was some other creature working on your behalf. I still find it hard to swallow that there’s anyone else besides you in the Afterlands who would perpetrate something like this.”

  Victor slammed his fist on the desk, causing beakers and test tubes to clink against each other. “For the last time, I have not...” His voice trailed off. “Wait. Dualities, you said? This is what Janus was the god of?”

  “In essence, yes,” I said. “Ringing any bells?”

  Victor nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, I think so. Jekyll.”

  “Gesundheit,” said Melody. “You should dust more often.”

  Victor tapped his foot impatiently. “No, no. Doctor Henry Jekyll.”

  “Never heard of him,” I said. “Ho
w is he relevant?”

  “First of all, because he is experimenting with something related to dual natures. And second, because he is most definitely insane enough to trifle with gods.”

  I leaned against the desk. “You intrigue me. Go on.”

  “You know how there are some people who can do magic, the Charmbloods, and then others who cannot, like me?” He twiddled his fingers in the air to illustrate the fact that no runes were leaping from them.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Well, Jekyll does not have powers either...but he is working on a way to get around that.”

  “But that’s impossible,” I scoffed. “The Fae enacted the Blood Charm on a select group of humans thousands of years ago, before the runic alphabet was codified. Now that the laws and the runes are in place, runecasting can’t be granted to ordinary humans anymore.”

  “So everyone keeps saying. But Jekyll chooses not to listen.”

  “What’s that got to do with dualities?” asked Melody.

  “Jekyll believes that magic exists in all living things,” said Victor. “His theory is that there is some secret method which can bring it to the surface.” He held out his hand vertically and sliced it downward like a sword. “He is developing a potion to split the essence of a human being in two, separating the magical from the non-magical.”

  “Utter nonsense!” I said. “There isn’t magic in everything! I mean, it does permeate the whole world to a certain degree, but that doesn’t mean that all people have the ability to cast runes. This splitting potion sounds like it’s more likely to either kill somebody or do nothing at all than grant anyone magic.”

  “I would not be so sure,” said Victor. “I believe Henry has enjoyed some success thus far. He was talking about needing a special ingredient, however.”

  “And you’ve heard all this how, exactly?” asked Melody. “Are you a friend of his or something?”

  “No,” said Victor angrily. “There is no need for all this suspicion. I have not met the man personally. But he and I are not the only alchemists in the Afterlands. We are a community. A loose one, but all the same, we keep in touch. Gossip spreads. That is all.”

  “Well, we’d better meet him personally before these experiments of his go any further,” I said. I turned on my heel and headed for the door. “Let’s go, Melody.”

  “You are most welcome,” Victor called after me. “If you need me, I will be reattaching the arm and head of poor Victor Two.”

  “Malcolm, wait.” Melody caught my arm just as I stepped out into the hall. “Let’s not rush into this.”

  “Really?” I exclaimed, staring at her in disbelief. “You’re going to jump in and stop me again?”

  Melody jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Victor. “We just blundered in here and embarrassed ourselves because we assumed he’d stolen the brain. Before we go charging off to accuse Dr. Jekyll to his face, what say we do the smart thing and gather more evidence first? If we find enough proof, he won’t be able to wriggle out of it, and if we don’t find anything, then we’ll know we should probably search elsewhere for our culprit.”

  I drummed my fingers impatiently against the wall. “Look, Melody, I’m not a detective. I’m an archaeologist. And also a dragon. Dig things up or set things on fire, that’s me. Either way, I favor the direct approach.”

  “I’m not a detective either,” Melody shot back. “I’m a thief, and I quite enjoy the direct approach myself. But unlike you, I’m a human, and I know from years of dealing with other humans that directness doesn’t always work.” She stepped closer to me. “For once in your long, complicated life, would you just listen to somebody? We’re not all stupid little humans for you to look down your big snout at as you fly above us.”

  I frowned and felt my nose. “I haven’t got a big snout.”

  “I meant your dragon nose.”

  “Oh. Right. That’s different.”

  “Again with the bickering outside my door,” Victor complained. “Shall I inform Mrs. Esterbrook so she can start charging you ten pounds per week?”

  “We’re going, we’re going,” I said, heading down the corridor. “And fine, yes, we’ll look for more evidence,” I added to Melody. “Not because I think it’s a good idea. Because I think it’s a bad one, and I want to let it play out as a learning experience for you.”

  Melody rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

  “Of course I am,” I said proudly. “Who’d want to be possible?”

  Chapter 5

  Yo-Ho-Ho and a Bottle of Poison

  In polite society in Talesend, magic and monsters were dismissed as things of the past. Even people who dared to believe in them never admitted it for fear of being deemed insane or stupid. But the Talesend underworld—the criminal one, not the one that Hades presided over—was a place where this pretense dropped away. People cast spells and used potions openly. Magical creatures walked side by side with humans and invited little, if any, comment. In decades to come, the Council of Scions would bring its power to bear even on this hidden part of the city, driving everything magical further into the shadows. But for now, there were still places in the city where the truth was acknowledged.

  It was a pity these places had to be so unsavory.

  “Give me all your money, or I’ll turn you into ducks.”

  I directed an imperious glare at the would-be robber—a skinny young man wearing a battered cap and a jacket covered in patches. He scowled at me and Melody and twirled a wooden wand in our direction. “I mean it,” he warned. “This is a proper, enchanted wand. It’ll get the job done.”

  “Not if you keep holding it by the wrong end,” I said. “I’d turn it around if I were you.”

  The boy snorted. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

  “Of course I do. But I’m giving you a chance to not be a duck in addition to being an idiot.”

  Melody frowned at me. “Malcolm, stop trying to trick the poor boy.”

  “Oh, I’m not falling for it, lady,” said the boy. “Don’t you worry. You’re about to be sorry, mister!”

  He waved the wand, and light burst from the tip—the one in his hand, not the one pointed at the people he was attempting to rob. The enchantment on the wand had apparently been designed to leave clothes untouched so as to make robbery easier, so the miscreant disappeared inside his coat. His clothing slumped to the pavement with a small form wriggling inside it. Eventually, a duck emerged from the neck of the coat, padding up and down the dirty street and quacking in a disgruntled manner.

  I turned to Melody and shrugged. “See? I try to be polite.”

  Melody smacked a hand to her face. “Oh, blast it all.”

  I picked up the wand and examined it. “If it makes you feel any better,” I told the duck, “I think this is a fairly weak enchantment. Keep away from restaurants for about an hour or so, and you’ll be right as rain. Though you might keep on quacking for a couple of days.” I snapped the wand in half and tossed it into a rubbish bin. “In future, leave magic alone unless you know what you’re doing. Or, in your case, leave it alone, period.”

  The duck quacked angrily, flapped its wings, and flew off, bumping into a few walls as it departed.

  “You could have just snatched the wand away before he used it,” Melody pointed out. “Things didn’t have to get quite that dramatic.”

  “It was more fun this way.” I slouched against a nearby wall, watching grubby, shifty-eyed people milling up and down the dingy street. Here and there, I thought I could see some beings that weren’t human. They were using glamours in case somebody from the more reputable parts of Talesend passed by, but now and then I still caught a glimpse of a faun’s hoof or a pixie’s wing.

  “What are we doing here, Melody?” I demanded. “I know this city like the back of my hand; I’ve seen it from the sky often enough. I don’t need you to drag me about to places where you think this thief Jekyll hired might be. I already have a few ideas of where to look.”<
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  “In the first place,” said Melody, “we don’t know for sure that Jekyll hired this person; not yet. Second, we’re not going to blunder willy-nilly from spot to spot hoping we bump into this person. And third, what you just said is precisely the problem with you.”

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

  “You see things from above—both literally, because you’re a dragon, and figuratively, because you’re a snob.”

  “Am I supposed to be offended by that?”

  “I suppose not, since snobbery appears to be a natural trait of dragons. But it also means that you don’t know much about the parts of Talesend that aren’t so nice and shiny. And you don’t know how to navigate them and get what you want from them when you’re down here on the ground with the little people.”

  I bristled. “I can manage, thank you!”

  “Oh, really? Without breathing fire at anybody, or tricking anybody into turning themselves into poultry?”

  “Well...” I hesitated.

  “Exactly. So, now it’s time for me to lead the way for a bit. Don’t worry. You’ll survive.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me along after her. “Now, come on.”

  “But where are we going?” I protested, stumbling a little as I tried to keep up.

  “To see an old friend of mine.”

  I hate navigating on the ground. It’s miserable plodding along through a maze of streets, never able to fly above them and check to see where you’re going. Melody seemed to know exactly where we were going, but I couldn’t bring myself to completely trust her. Who knew what she was getting me into this time?

  Finally, we skidded to a stop on a street so narrow that it should have been an alley. We were standing at a door, which I didn’t even see until Melody reached for the handle. A clever paint job disguised it as part of the brick wall, and a misdirection spell compelled the unwary to avoid looking at it too closely. I had to concentrate to keep my eyes on it. Dust filtered down from the frame as Melody swung the door open and we stepped inside. A few particles drifted up my nose, and I fought to hold back a sneeze. Dragon sneezes leave few survivors.