The Beasts of Upton Puddle

by Simon West-Bulford

  Danariel was busy circling the horns of something large and grey in one of the other cages.

  “Danariel?” Mrs. Merrynether called. “Joseph is going to spend a few minutes with Cornelius. Would you be so kind as to watch over him? We won’t be long.”

  “Of course,” the seraph replied. She fluttered to Joe and settled on his shoulder.

  Mrs. Merrynether and Heinrich left the vault.

  Joe pulled the barred door of the manticore enclosure open. A thrill ran through him as his foot crossed the border and touched the moss. Under the sole of his shoe, Joe felt the subtle snap of a quill belonging to a scarlet feather; the whole enclosure was littered with them. Though Cornelius was completely still, the reality that he was sharing a cage with something more dangerous than a lion struck Joe with sudden intensity.

  With trembling hands and a racing heartbeat, he knelt beside the creature and pressed one palm against his side. He slid his fingers through the crimson fur and over the flowing bump of the manticore’s ribs, the silky texture smooth against his skin.

  A low moan gurgled from the beast’s chest.

  Joe quickly withdrew his hand.

  “He will not hurt you.” Danariel’s voice tickled Joe’s ear. “He likes affection.”

  As if to agree with the seraph, the animal’s great head lifted from the rock he was resting against and turned toward Joe, its pupils no longer revealed as catlike slits but wide wells of pain. Something that sounded like a complaint gurgled from Cornelius’s chest again, and his barbed tail thumped against the turf.

  “He likes affection,” Danariel repeated.

  Tentatively, Joe returned a hand to Cornelius’s side and began to stroke him again. The red head, with its disturbingly humanlike face expressing weary satisfaction, returned to rest against the rock.

  Three more minutes passed as Joe sat silently with Cornelius, watching his chest heave, listening to the soft, deep hum of what he believed to be purring. Joe wanted to stay there forever.

  Just as Joe was about to lay his head against the manticore’s side, the sound of splintering wood and smashing glass erupted from the cellar outside the vault. The equally loud shrieking of Mrs. Merrynether firing irritated commands at Heinrich followed immediately, and then Joe heard the giant man stumbling, almost falling down the steps. He too was shouting in panicked response, but the short outbursts sounded muffled to Joe, as if Heinrich had a bag over his head.

  The sight of Heinrich bursting into the vault, staggering like Frankenstein’s monster on a pub crawl was as shocking as it was comical—not because of the way the huge man’s arms were outstretched in zombielike desperation and not even because of the German’s cursing but because of the extraordinary thing covering his head.

  Joe could do nothing apart from open his mouth wide and scream, more from shock than fear. Upon Heinrich’s broad shoulders, completely surrounding the man’s head, was a massive, pea-green ball of translucent slime. Dead center of the blob, the most enormous eyeball Joe had ever seen stared outward emoting what could be nothing other than delirious excitement. Snotty tendrils lapped around its floppy base as the eyeball swiveled, looking at everything with the frenzy of an unrestrained dog in a butcher’s shop.

  Joe’s scream gave way to laughter as the riot continued.

  Danariel shot to the safety of her lightbulb.

  Sucking, plopping noises drowned out Heinrich’s muted pleas as the eyeball drove him farther into the vault. It appeared to be all he could do to not slip in the muck that still coated the floor.

  Right behind him, Mrs. Merrynether jabbed a broomstick at the hapless man’s back. “I told you to calm down, Heinrich. You’ll just make him worse. You know how excited this species can get.”

  A stream of gargled German swear words erupted from within the slimy eyeball before Heinrich lost his balance and fell backwards against his desk. With a loud pop and gasp of air, the jellylike creature flew upward, leaving Heinrich to spit and scoop off lumps of gloop from his face.

  The creature was on the loose. Like a deflating party balloon, it spun and raced through the air, eagerly seeking something new and interesting to look at.

  “Get up, Heinrich. Catch it before it gets away.” Mrs. Merrynether jabbed him again.

  With all the commotion, Joe hadn’t been watching the manticore. Now he saw that Cornelius had lifted his head. A look of ruffled annoyance distorted the animal’s proud features as he watched the slimy intruder whoosh around the vault. It was a look Joe had seen before on a stray cat he’d tried to befriend, and it wasn’t a good sign. Cautiously, Joe stood and backed out of the enclosure, shutting the door behind him. He sidled up to Mrs. Merrynether, who was squinting intensely at Heinrich.

  “What is that?” Joe asked.

  “That, dear boy, is a globble.” She gave Heinrich one more nudge as he strode toward the eye, arms lifted. “He’s got about as much chance as an elephant catching a fly,” she whispered to Joe gleefully, leaning on her broom. “But it’ll be amusing to watch him for a while, won’t it? And perhaps it’ll teach him to tighten up his security methods.”

  Heinrich, covered in slime, his grey hair sticking out in all directions, staggered after the blob. To Joe he looked like a man who had narrowly escaped an explosion in a hair gel factory.

  “What did you say that thing is?” Joe asked again.

  “A globble. His name is Flarp.”

  “I’ve never heard of one of those.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised. You won’t find them in any encyclopedia, not even under the mythology section.”

  “Where did it come from?” Joe asked. “Actually, where do any of these animals come from?”

  “That is a secret, but I will tell you this: Every single one of the creatures treated at Merrynether Mansion comes from an island—a protected island. Only I and Heinrich—”

  “Ronnie, look,” Heinrich shouted.

  The globble was hovering outside Cornelius’s enclosure, apparently fascinated by the manticore, and Joe had the distinct impression that this strange ball of slime was desperate to make friends. Unfortunately for Flarp, the feeling was not mutual.

  The disgruntled manticore whipped his barbed tail in the air, and with a deadly swing, a poisonous dart shot out at the jelly beast.

  Flarp deftly avoided the poisonous projectile.

  “Get back,” said Mrs. Merrynether to Joe. “If one of those barbs hits you, I’ll be spending the rest of the day saving your life. The venom is extremely potent.”

  With undampened enthusiasm, the globble flew back to the enclosure. Its enormous eyeball strained, looking like it was about to burst with the excitement of meeting a new friend. With a rhythmic sloshing motion, it weaved and dodged quill after quill as Cornelius tried to rid himself of this new intruder.

  “Still want me to catch it?” Heinrich grinned.

  “Of course not.” Mrs. Merrynether waved him over. “Just back away to a safe distance, and let’s see what happens. This could be the answer we’ve been waiting for.”

  Joe marveled at the speed of the green blob as it zipped around the enclosure, never taking its focus off Cornelius and easily dodging each attack. “Are you sure the globble won’t get hurt?”

  “It may get unlucky,” Mrs. Merrynether answered, “but globbles are notoriously unresponsive to toxins of any kind. No circulatory system, you see.”

  “That’s why it couldn’t be sedated for the journey here,” Heinrich cut in. “No, Flarp will be fine. The worst that will happen is a tiny cut. And he will heal quickly.”

  Mrs. Merrynether shook her head. “Strange beasties, these. No sense of smell, hearing, touch, or taste. They just suck in air, feed on bacteria, and float around all day long, looking at things. Essentially, the globble is nothing more than a conscious eyeball.”

  “So what’s wrong with it?” Joe asked.

  Mrs. Merrynether smiled back. “It’s blind.”

  Joe gazed at the creature bobbing like
a hyperactive jellyfish, still avoiding darts with incredible agility. “It looks like it can see perfectly,” Joe said. “It must be seeing those darts, especially if it doesn’t have any other senses.”

  Mrs. Merrynether removed her glasses and gave them to Joe. “Put these on for a moment.”

  Joe obeyed and was immediately confronted by a world so blurred and distorted he couldn’t even distinguish Mrs. Merrynether from Heinrich. He could just about see her lips moving as she spoke.

  “Even now, Flarp can see far better than you or I, but in comparison to others of its kind, Flarp’s vision is no better than what you see through my spectacles.”

  Joe took the glasses off and handed them back.

  “So he’s a super eye?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. Our vision is limited to a narrow spectrum of light and relatively short distances, but a normal globble can see the fleas on a cat’s back a thousand miles away through a ten-foot wall of lead.”

  “Wow! Really? Can they see other planets and stars and things if they look at the sky?”

  “D’you know, I’ve never thought about that,” she answered. “I’ll have to ask him one day.”

  “Ask him? How do you talk to a floating eyeball?”

  “I can’t, but Danariel can.”

  As if she sensed she was needed, Danariel popped out of her lightbulb and drifted to Mrs. Merrynether, careful to stay out of the line of fire. “You’d like me to talk with the globble?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind. Though I’m certain Flarp’s provocation is going to help Cornelius, the manticore is still very weak, and too much antagonism may not be beneficial. We need to calm our new guest down and get him settled into his own enclosure.”

  “I will do what I can, but these are not the brightest of nature’s creations.”

  Danariel flittered as close as she could to the green ball and danced around it. Flarp’s attention instantly transferred to this new curiosity with equal interest. With little regard for the seraph’s personal space, the globble pushed as close to her as he could get.

  For the first time since its arrival, the globble stopped rushing around, and the two oddities drifted in graceful orbit together, sharing in what Joe assumed was some sort of private conversation.

  “What does it say?” Joe asked.

  Danariel was silent for a moment or two before moving away from Flarp, whose unrelenting stare was still trained on its new playmate. “He said, ‘Me! Me! Me! Red thing. Blue thing. Me green. Me! Me! Me! Happy thing.’”

  Mrs. Merrynether and Heinrich exchanged knowing looks.

  “I believe Flarp understands me,” Danariel continued, “but whether he is willing to calm down and behave himself in an enclosure is another matter. He’s still very excited.”

  As she spoke, Joe could see the globble spinning around and around, its snotty extremities stretching outwards. Joe smiled. He was reminded of how other kids in his class would often sit on swivel chairs in the common room when they were bored, spinning as fast as they could until they collapsed in laughing heaps.

  Mrs. Merrynether sighed. “Perhaps we should have waited a little longer before agreeing to treat Flarp. We already have our hands full with the cluricaun.”

  “Perhaps,” said Heinrich, “but at least with him, we have a chance to save Cornelius.”

  “True.” She smiled. “Well, enough dillydallying. We have to get our new patient tucked away.”

  Joe stared at the muck-covered floor, still feeling a certain responsibility for the fact that Lilly had caused so much devastation. “I can get started clearing this up, if you like.”

  “I think not, young man. That’s Lilly’s job, and you shouldn’t even be here. Return to school at once. I don’t want teachers and parents as well as fake council inspectors knocking on my door, do I?”

  “But I can come back Sunday?”

  “Of course. The shopping won’t do itself, will it?”

  Joe grinned and stole another glance at the manticore before leaving.

  Cornelius had returned to his former sleeping position, but at least now there was hope for the beast to pull through.

  TWELVE

  Joe had not seen his mum so angry in quite some time. She said nothing as he walked through the front door, but the look in her eyes told Joe she wouldn’t stay silent for long. The deputy head of Clarkdale School, Mr. Henderson, sat in one of the armchairs taking tiny sips from a cup of tea.

  Aunt Rose passed Joe on her way out of the house, buttoning her coat in a hurry and tossing him a look that an army general might give a cadet who was about to be exposed to the front line on a battlefield. “I’ll see you later, Jane. And it was nice to meet you, Mr. Henderson.”

  She smiled and left the house.

  Henderson looked like his eyes had given up smiling long before his mouth, which was half disguised by a patchy greying beard. One ear stuck out a little more than the other, and one eye pointed slightly inward, giving Henderson an appearance that terrified younger students and sent older ones into stifled hysterics. Adding to those his tweed suit that was a size too small and his bouncy walk, the deputy head was a continual source of amusement at Clarkdale. Nevertheless, Joe liked him.

  “Hello, Joe,” Mr. Henderson said in a higher pitch than usual. The greeting sounded friendly enough, but being called by his first name instead of the usual Copper made Joe instantly uncomfortable.

  “Hello.” Joe stood perfectly still, unsure which of Mr. Henderson’s eyes to look at.

  Mr. Henderson placed his teacup on the coffee table and glanced at Joe’s mum expectantly.

  She nodded back, tight-lipped.

  “Sit down, Joe,” he said with a sigh. “Do you mind if we talk about what happened today?”

  Joe decided not to reply as he sat in the armchair opposite Mr. Henderson. He could already feel his throat waiting to betray his guilt with a telltale swallow halfway through a sentence.

  “It’s no secret your concentration in all your classes has been lacking for the past few weeks, but today’s events are not what I . . . or your mother expected from you.”

  Joe stared at the carpet.

  “Lack of concentration is one thing, but leading several other students into truancy and then trying to use the Beast of Upton Puddle as an excuse for your behavior is quite unacceptable.”

  “What? That’s not true!” Joe looked up.

  Henderson adopted a much harder tone. “There were several witnesses who saw you run through the yard with school property during lesson time. Mr. Graves has also spoken to Kurt Duggan, and it’s now apparent that you coerced him and several other boys to leave the school grounds.”

  “Who? Mr. Graves?”

  “What? No, of course not! Kurt Duggan. You coerced Duggan into skipping class.”

  “But the Beast! It was—”

  “The other boys say there was no Beast.”

  “But—”

  Henderson leaned forward, his ears turning a deep shade of red. “Did you or did you not enter a restricted classroom area during lesson time and take an item that does not belong to you?”

  Joe looked away from the deputy head and into his mum’s pleading eyes.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  Joe’s mum pressed both her hands against her mouth.

  “Why, Joe?” Henderson asked, lowering his voice.

  Joe chewed at his top lip, desperate to think of a way to explain everything, but how could he tell them the truth—the truth that would make him sound insane? Joe couldn’t bear to look at either of them, so he focused on the carpet again. “I . . . don’t know.”

  The deputy head sighed. “You’re one of our brightest. Up until the last few weeks, you’ve been a model student, and I don’t want to see you throw away a promising future.”

  “If you think I’m such a model student, why do you take Duggan’s word over mine?”

  “The groundskeeper vouched for him on this occasion. Besides, you haven’t of
fered any explanation.”

  Joe’s mum could hold her silence no longer. “Please tell me what’s going on, Joe. Why did you do it? Why have you been so distant lately?”

  The tightly controlled emotion in her voice hurt Joe, but no reasonable answer came as he opened his mouth to speak. Should he tell her of manticores and cluricauns? Of globbles and seraphim?

  Tears trembled on the edges of his mum’s lids. “It’s that place you told me about last week, isn’t it? Merrynether Mansion? Ever since you’ve been going there, you’ve been acting differently. Is that where you’ve just come back from?”

  Joe hesitated.

  “Is it?” Her voice sounded much louder than usual.

  Joe searched her eyes, then looked at Mr. Henderson. The deputy squinted at his student as though stumped by a particularly hard equation. Joe felt the weight of regret press on him as he looked back at his mum. He knew what would follow his reply. “Yes.”

  She stared at him for several seconds, the decision hardening in her eyes. “I want you to promise me you won’t go back to that place. I don’t know what’s really been going on, and I know you’re not going to tell me, but it’s obviously having a bad effect on you.”

  “But Mrs. Merrynether needs me. I get her shopping for her.”

  “Yes, so you’ve told me, but that doesn’t—”

  “Here,” said Joe, eagerly pulling the latest list from his back pocket and handing it to his mum.

  She unfolded it. Her mouth opened wider as she read. “A shopping list for an elderly lady? This?”

  “Some of the things are a bit strange, but—”

  “Strange? That isn’t the word I would use. There’s almost every alcoholic drink I can think of listed here. And why is she asking for a packet of Cuban cigars and a poster calendar of Belfast’s Best Buxom Bikini Booty Beauties?”

  Mr. Henderson, who had just taken the opportunity for another sip of his drink, coughed out a spray of tea.

  “Lilly!” Joe said. “He must have swapped the list somehow when I wasn’t looking.”

  “Lilly? Who’s Lilly?”

  Joe shook his head and made a grab for the list, but his mum quickly folded and pocketed it.