Mrs. Merrynether turned to look at Joe, a kaleidoscope of emotions crossing her features. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve got a headache. What’s that smell?”
“It’s a special ointment we’re using on your shoulder.” She smiled. “A little something I dug out of my medicine cabinet, and I’ll get Heinrich to fetch you some aspirin for that headache.”
“Is he all right? We were hit by Cornelius’s quills.”
“Heinrich didn’t get hit. Only you did. If Heinrich hadn’t got you to me as quickly as he did, you’d be . . .” Her prune-like lips tightened.
“You would not be talking with us now,” Danariel finished as she hovered to the side of Mrs. Merrynether’s face and placed gentle hands on her cheek.
“Thank you, Danariel. She’s right, Joseph. I should never have left you unsupervised with such dangerous creatures on the loose.” She looked away. “I have been grossly negligent.”
“But you’ve got them back now?” Joe asked.
“All but Lilly.”
“Lilly? But I had him trapped in room sixteen.”
“I’m sure you did, but cluricauns are highly skilled at evasion, and it’s extremely rare to see one at all. The room was empty when Heinrich checked it.”
“So where did they all come from? There were so many of them.” Joe tried to sit up but felt a lurch in his stomach and a hammering through his brain.
“Never mind them,” said Mrs. Merrynether, easing him back onto the sheets. “You need to rest awhile.”
“There is a cluricaun in almost every home,” Danariel explained, sitting at the end of the bed, “especially homes with wine cellars. Nobody knows how they communicate with each other, but on rare occasions they do get together like this, and the results are always chaotic.”
“Oh,” said Joe, rubbing his head. “Look. What time is it? I should call my mum. She’ll be wondering where I am.”
“Already done,” said Mrs. Merrynether. “I told her you had a bit of an accident with one of our animals but that you were fine.”
“And she was okay with that?”
“Well . . .” Mrs. Merrynether drew a deep breath. “Your aunt Rose is coming to collect you now. Both she and your mother are very concerned, and to be truthful with you, so am I.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, no, no, no! The fault is entirely mine. You see, it was very irresponsible of me to get you involved in this situation. In my anger, it didn’t cross my mind for a moment that you may be in considerable danger with so many wild beasts on the loose. I should have sent you home immediately.”
“But I’m all right now, aren’t I?” Joe felt another wave of nausea.
“You will be fine. But it could easily have been different, and you may not be so fortunate if something similar were to happen again.”
Danariel flew in front of her face. “No, Veronica.”
She wagged a finger at the seraph. “Don’t you try that on me, Danariel. I won’t have it.”
“What is it?” Joe asked.
“Danariel can sense what I am about to say, and she is trying her hardest to dissuade me.” Mrs. Merrynether sighed and looked away. Her next sentence was filled with defeat. “I am afraid I shall have to ask you never to return once you leave today.”
Joe’s stomach lurched as though he’d been driven over the edge of a cliff. “I . . . can’t . . . come back?”
“Reconsider, Veronica.” Danariel’s light had diminished. “Think of the future.”
“I am,” she whispered. “I’m thinking of his.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” A lump hardened in Joe’s throat.
“It isn’t just the danger of the animals,” she said. “I was on the phone with Argoyle Redwar earlier.” Her lips twitched in disgust. “Aside from his usual venom when trying to persuade me to sell my home, he again threatened to reveal the true nature of our work. He knows all about Cornelius’s recovery. He knows about Danariel here, and he even knows that we have a globble in our care.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But it’s clear somebody close to us is disclosing very sensitive information . . . It may not be safe.”
“You don’t think it’s me, do you?”
For a flash of a second, suspicion seemed apparent in Mrs. Merrynether’s watery eyes. “Of course not,” she said a little too quickly. “But it’s just one more thing that convinces me you may be better off not being involved. I don’t know where all of this will lead, but you must also promise not to tell anyone about what you have seen here.”
Joe nodded reluctantly. The whole world had been screwed up into a tiny ball, and he was crushed inside, unable to feel or think.
Danariel sank onto the bed, settling between Joe’s side and the crook of his elbow.
He stared at her tiny form, wondering if this would be the last time he ever saw her.
SEVENTEEN
Argoyle Redwar rapped on the window of the animal block and peered through at the panicking employees within. Even through the thick doors, he heard muffled barks and the rattle-clang of slamming cage gates.
“Blast their rancid hides. What are they doing in there? I gave them ample time, didn’t I? This is a research facility, not a church jumble sale.”
“—fteen mints,” mumbled the hunched woman behind him.
“What? Oh, never mind. I detest this place, Ms. Burrowdown. Detest it,” he said, still snarling through the window and creating a misty patch. “But I suppose if that blasted Merrynether isn’t going to budge, I have no choice but to go ahead with your idea.”
“Fanyou, Mr. Redwar.”
“Yes, well, it had better work.” He turned to point a stubby finger at her. “There are too many things about this plan that could go—”
The double doors swung inwards with a loud metallic moan, and the barking crescendoed.
The gaunt figure of Arthur Gumble in an oversized lab coat, along with a generous helping of ferret stench, greeted Redwar. Gumble rubbed his hands together nervously as a twitching smile crossed his pallid features. Redwar squinted at the man, his currant-like eyes looking even smaller than usual.
“Gumble?”
“Uh . . . yes, Mr. Redwar, sir.”
“Didn’t I fire you a few weeks back?”
“You did, sir, yes, but—”
“Didn’t I fire him a few weeks back?” he said, now looking at Burrowdown.
“Yes-did. Scorted off-site nineteenf July.”
“What? Speak up, woman! Oh, never mind. Gumble,” he said, turning back to him, “what are you still doing here?”
“I, er . . . reapplied for the job, sir.”
“You did what?”
“Yes, sir. The post was advertised the following Monday, and I just . . . reapplied. Had my interview that Wednesday, and they—”
Redwar turned on Burrowdown again. “Who’s the imbecile in charge of personnel now? Is it still Katherine Carling?”
“No. You fired ’er six munfs go. It’s Graham Chatterly now.”
“Chatterly, eh? Fire him.”
Burrowdown scribbled something in her notepad.
“Mr. Redwar?” Gumble asked. “Would you like to come inside? I can show you to—”
“Yes, yes!” He dismissed the cowering man with a wave and strode into the area. The doors groaned shut behind them. “But don’t think you’re getting away with this, Gumble. You can collect your hat and coat at the end of the day.”
“I, er . . . always do, sir.”
“Don’t get funny with me. You know precisely what I meant. You’re fired!”
“Begging your pardon, Mr. Redwar, but . . . may I ask why?” There was a tremble in his voice.
Redwar’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still fired from last time.”
“But I’m on a new contract now, sir.”
Redwar glowered at him, his rubbery lips pressed together and moving as though he were chewing a very sharp sweet.
The other workers stared wide-eyed at their boss, carrying out their tasks in slow motion.
“Very well, Gumble. You can stay.”
“Sir?”
“You want me to change my mind?”
“No, no! Er . . . I think you wanted to be shown to the restricted section.” Gumble was already on his way to the next set of doors, inviting Redwar and Burrowdown to follow.
“I did, yes.”
Gumble pressed his card against the reader, and the doors swung open to reveal another room with more stench, more barking dogs, and more nervous employees. He took them through another set of doors and into a corridor, through more doors and corridors, more rooms, a lift, and then another corridor.
Eventually they stood before a set of menacing black doors. At the top, bold yellow letters identified the entrance of a restricted area into which only the managing director and the chief veterinary officer were allowed.
Gumble pressed his pass against the reader, and the sound of heavy bolts receding into concrete vibrated through the walls. The doors labored inward to reveal a darkened room.
“Back to work, Gumble.”
“Thank you, Mr. Redwar,” said Gumble. Then he scuttled off.
Redwar and Burrowdown stepped inside, and the doors thunked shut behind them. The tap of their shoes echoed against the tall black walls, and hidden sensors triggered embedded spotlights to raise the lighting by a fraction. The walls at the far end were still shrouded in darkness, but the groaning and snuffling were enough to confirm that living things lurked there.
“I hate this room most of all.”
“Why?”
“What? Oh, it smells, Ms. Burrowdown. The stink is unbearable.”
“Whiffy.”
“Indeed.” Redwar rubbed his fingers under his nose as if it might cover the stench. “I loathe animal smells, but this room is the worst. However, it is also the most private place in the whole of this building. Even I have enemies, Ms. Burrowdown. There are unwelcome ears in the offices, so absolute secrecy is paramount, and this is the perfect place for us to discuss what must be done. What is spoken within these walls stays between you, me, and these pathetic beasts. Now, to business.”
“Merrynether?”
“Yes. She thinks she’s so safe, tucked away in the middle of Ringwood Forest, taking care of all those stupid creatures in secret. She has to go.”
“An accident?”
“Whatever it takes, but obviously, the trail must not lead to us, understand?”
She nodded.
Redwar raised his voice to proclaim, “Yes, we no longer need Merrynether now that we know precisely where that island is. As soon as preparations are ready, we can go there and our real work can begin.”
Ms. Burrowdown grinned as she looked up.
Redwar smirked as he looked down. “Now here’s what we’ll do . . .”
And in the darkness, another pair of ears listened intently.
Coming to terms with Mrs. Merrynether’s instruction not to return to the mansion threw Joe into a spiral of gloom. His next week passed like a distant dream. Classes, meals, watching TV, dodging difficult questions from his mum, running errands for his aunt, even the bullying—all of it blurred past him as if he were watching it happen to someone else.
Even as Aunt Rose arrived at Merrynether Mansion that fateful day to collect him, Joe was still trying to persuade Mrs. Merrynether to let him come back Sunday, but she insisted to his aunt that, for his own safety, he must not be allowed to return. And when Aunt Rose took Joe home and told his mum, he knew his fairy-tale days of adventure had come to an abrupt end. To add to his woes, Kurt Duggan targeted him for not providing the nonexistent map to the nonexistent stash of money buried in the woods. Life had never been so glum.
But as the following Monday lunch break reached its end, something happened that stirred Joe from his doldrums. He had been sitting in the corner of the common room with his nose in a Greek mythology book, and a full twenty minutes passed before he’d realized he had been left on his own. Most of the other students, apart from Duggan and his thugs, didn’t pay him much attention anyway, but there would usually be at least ten others in there with him during lunch.
Joe put the book back in his bag and left the common room, hoping to find out where everybody else had gone. The first hint came when the flashing glare of red-and-blue lights colored the sports block. Either someone had been hurt or there’d been some sort of terrible incident that required the police. The picture became clearer as Joe rounded the gymnasium.
At the back of the school grounds, where the playing fields met Ringwood Forest, a busy crowd of students had gathered around something. Three teachers were doing their best to herd them back toward the school but with little success. Two police officers stood with one of the other teachers, taking down notes.
Joe caught nuggets of conversation as he pushed his way into the crowd, ignoring the protests of Mr. Henderson.
“. . . blood everywhere. Mrs. Hedley is in the first aid room with him now . . .”
“. . . glimpsed its back, but Doherty said he saw it full-on. Looked like a big gorilla with long nails . . .”
“. . . and then about twelve coppers with rifles ran past the gates . . .”
“. . . smelled like Henderson’s armpits . . .”
Joe managed to scramble to the front. He half expected to see a mangled body, but what presented itself instead was a gaping hole in the ground. The tangled roots of one of the beech trees had been torn upward to make way for the entrance of a wide tunnel. Something enormous had dug its way through there, and at the edge there was evidence of a fight. A combination of boot prints and claw marks were smeared into the soil, and the tattered remains of a bloody glove lay there too.
Frantic whispering and chattering continued to bubble around Joe as he stared into the hole. To his left, three girls from the class ahead of him were huddled in terrified gossip.
“What happened?” Joe asked.
They stopped talking and turned to him, their eyes fearful.
“It was Gravesy, the groundskeeper. The Beast of Upton Puddle got him,” one of them said.
“Yes,” said another girl. “Apparently he was mowing the borders when it just jumped out of the woods and bit his arm right off!”
“No, it didn’t!” The other one smacked her arm. “It just scratched him. That’s all.”
“They don’t call out ambulances for a scratch.”
“I’m just telling you what Lisa said Ian said Graham saw. If he—”
“Yaaaaaa! Monster! There! Monster behind those trees,” shouted somebody a few feet away.
The three girls shrieked, provoking a parade of screaming, flapping, and crying all around them.
Seconds later Joe picked out the hysterical laughing of Kurt Duggan. He and his minions were huddled in a small group not far from the hole, doubled over with laughter.
“All right, that’s quite enough,” screeched Mr. Henderson, his high-pitched voice conveying precisely no authority whatsoever.
By now, all the teachers had arrived and were busy rounding up their students while the police stuck metal pikes in the ground and cordoned off the area with stripy tape.
Deep in thought, Joe was bustled along with the crowd toward the main assembly hall. With everything else that had been going on, he hadn’t given nearly enough thought to the Beast stalking the village. This was the first time a real attack on a person had happened. Until now, there had been damage to property and even some livestock and pets, but the situation had never been this bad. Mrs. Merrynether insisted the creature had nothing to do with them, but for Joe, this was far too much of a coincidence. Even during the time that Joe visited, at least five different creatures had escaped.
Uneasiness seeped in as the noisy crowd shoved Joe along the main corridor to the assembly hall. He’d promised Mrs. Merrynether that he would say nothing to anyone about what she was doing, but perhaps it was his respo
nsibility now to tell the police what he knew before someone really got hurt . . . or worse.
Joe caught sight of Mr. Henderson at the back of the mob and fought his way against the flow to see him. “Mr. Henderson?” he said, pulling alongside.
“If you’re going to ask what happened, you’ll have to wait with everyone else. That’s why I’ve called an assembly.”
“Is Mr. Graves all right?”
Henderson looked down at Joe with one of his eyes. The other one didn’t quite make the journey away from the crowd.
“You mean you’re not interested in the Beast like the rest of these little monsters?”
“Is he badly hurt?”
“He’s fine, Copper. The nurse is attending to him in the first aid room.”
“Thanks.” Joe squeezed his way through the back of the line before Henderson could grab him.
A few students were gathered outside the first aid room when Joe arrived. Two of them pressed their ears against the door while the others bustled to get their turn.
“What’s going on in there?” Joe asked.
“Shh!” hissed a lanky student with long hair. “We’ve already been sent away once.”
Joe walked right to the door, opened it, and walked inside while the others stared agog.
Mr. Graves, the groundskeeper, sat in a chair next to the nurse, Mrs. Hedley. One of his arms had been wrapped with a bandage and, although there was no sign of any serious injury, his face was bleached with shock as he looked straight ahead.
A police officer stood by the window scribbling into a notepad and promptly stopped when Joe barged in.
“Are you all right, Mr. Graves?”
Mrs. Hedley stood, her fists on her hips. “Get out of here right now, boy. This is—”
Joe heard the eavesdroppers outside scuffle away quickly.
“Did you really see the Beast?”
“I said—”
“Big shaggy thing, really long fingers? I’ve seen it too.”
Mrs. Hedley grabbed Joe’s arm.
The groundskeeper looked straight at Joe. “That’s it! It came right out of the ground, it did. Big green eyes and . . . and claws like . . . like eagle’s claws, they were, but hairy.”
The Beasts of Upton Puddle Page 14
