The Beasts of Upton Puddle

by Simon West-Bulford

  Joe’s mum ran some warm water into a bowl. “Are you going to tell me what happened, or is this going to be a one-way conversation?” she said with her back still turned.

  Joe bit his lip. What could he tell her? She wouldn’t believe most of it.

  “I left Kurt Duggan’s house at about seven, I think.”

  “Go on,” she said, turning around with a damp cloth in her hand. “Did you go into Ringwood Forest?” She glanced at him.

  “Umm . . . yeah. I . . . got attacked.”

  His mum dabbed at his face, and Joe felt the sting of something salty in the cloth. “I can see that.”

  “Attacked?” Aunt Rose almost fell down the stairs on the way down. “We should call the police at once, Jane. At once!”

  “Let’s hold on a minute first.” Joe’s mum held out a hand to receive the first aid kit. “Who attacked you, Joe?”

  Joe flinched when she pressed the bump on his head. “I fell into one of those burrows, and the Beast came after me.”

  “Oh, goodness,” said Aunt Rose, finding her way back to her chair and fanning herself with a newspaper. “They said it was the Beast that damaged the sewers, you know. It’s probably made tunnels all the way under the street. Oh! It could pop up in the garden any minute! Do you have a shotgun, Jane?”

  “How did you get away?” Joe’s mum asked.

  “I got rescued by a friend of Mrs. Merrynether’s. Heinrich Krieger.”

  “Off with your shirt . . . And how did he know you were there?”

  Joe removed his shirt, feeling a sharp pain across his chest as he lifted his arms. A large blue-red bruise had spread across his shoulder. “I called for help, and he came,” said Joe, wincing as his mum touched his skin.

  Alarm flashed in her eyes. She gave him a look Joe recognized very well: she knew he wasn’t telling her everything. “You must have been quite close to Mrs. Merrynether’s place, then . . . Does it hurt here when I press it?”

  “A little bit,” Joe said. “Did you say you were going somewhere? Is it Nan?”

  “Yes, it’s Nan. She’s had another fall. That’s why Aunt Rose is going to look after you while I’m away. I should have left four hours ago. Rose, would you run Joe a bath please?”

  “Of course, dear.” Aunt Rose hurried upstairs, and soon Joe heard the sound of running water.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  Joe’s mum pressed a bandage against his head. “You should have called me.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to fix my phone.”

  “Didn’t you say you called that Mr. Krieger?”

  “Not with my phone, no.”

  “So how, then?”

  Joe looked at the floor. It was getting harder and harder to explain things without mentioning any of Mrs. Merrynether’s creatures. What if he did tell her? Would she assume he was lying? And what about Redwar? Shouldn’t he say something about him? Joe’s stomach churned as though all his troubles had somehow found the perfect place to sit and stew.

  “Joe? I asked you a question.” She knelt directly in front of him. “How did Mr. Krieger know you needed help?”

  Joe hesitated, thinking about what to say.

  He was rescued when Aunt Rose ambled into the kitchen. “They’ve got a dog unit out there now. I saw it all from the bedroom window. I told you it was the Beast, didn’t I, Jane? I saw them shove a black hairy thing into the back of their van. I don’t think it was very happy.”

  “They’ve caught it?” Joe turned, shocked.

  “Yes, didn’t look like much of a Beast to me, though. Everyone’s been talking about that thing as if it was as big as a bear. This thing looked more like a . . . well, like a dog, if you ask me.”

  “But it is as big as a bear,” said Joe. “I’ve seen it three times.”

  “Well, things can look different in the dark,” his mum said. “Whatever size it is, at least they’ve got it now.”

  “I suppose so,” said Joe uncertainly.

  “Right,” said his mum decisively, “I have to be off. Rose, you’re sure you’ll be all right taking care of Joe while I’m away? I shouldn’t be more than a few days.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Aunt Rose grabbed Joe’s cheeks and pinched them.

  “Good. Make sure he doesn’t leave the house except for school—or the hospital if that bump on his head gets worse.”

  “Mum! You’re grounding me?”

  “You came home late on more than one occasion, you’ve been back to Merrynether Mansion, and on top of all that, I know there are things you’re not telling me. Of course you’re grounded.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry, Jane. I’ll make sure he’s all right.”

  “Thanks. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

  “Oh, it’s a pleasure. Give your mum my love, won’t you? We’ll see you when you get back. Now come on, young Joe. It’s about time you got in that bath. Don’t forget your shirt.”

  Joe had been asleep only two hours when the commotion began. It took a high-octave scream and the sound of smashing crockery for him to realize that something was terribly wrong. Yells of pain from at least two men, heavy bumps, swearing, and more smashing crockery came from downstairs as Joe leapt from his bed and turned the light on. It took less than half a minute to throw on the clothes he should have put in the wash, and without another thought, he grabbed the heaviest thing he could find: a golf club that used to belong to his dad.

  He almost fell down the stairs in his haste but quickly realized the intruders had got more than they bargained for with Aunt Rose in the house. Like a champion discus thrower overdosed on sugar, she threw plate after plate at two brutish men dressed in black, cowering by the broken back door. And with each launch came a word of acidic rebuke.

  “Twenty- . . .”

  Crash!

  “Three . . .”

  Smash!

  “Years . . .”

  Thunk!

  “Married to . . .”

  Crunch!

  “A drunken . . .”

  Whoosh!

  “Wrestler . . .”

  Swish!

  “And you think . . .”

  Thwak!

  “You can take . . .”

  Smack!

  “Me on?”

  No more plates.

  “Run, Joe!”

  One thug lay whimpering on the floor surrounded by shards of china. The other, wide-eyed with shock or terror or both, saw his chance and lunged forward. Joe swung his golf club, cracking both shins, and the howling man fell to the ground.

  “I said run!”

  The other man had already shaken the debris from his clothes and staggered to his feet. He stepped over his partner and grabbed for Joe. Four meaty knuckles connected with the attacker’s cheekbone before he could make good with his efforts, but before Aunt Rose could gloat over her victim’s goggle-eyed collapse, the other man had already grasped her ankles. She toppled on him like a mountain of suffocating blancmange, screaming and flapping her arms in a frenzy.

  “Run,” she yelled again as a brown sack covered her head, muffling her next words. “Get out of here! Call the police!”

  Joe was about to swing the golf club a second time, but as he lifted it, a hand grasped the end.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re coming with us.”

  A puffy bruise had already formed across the man’s eye, but Joe knew now that it was going to take more than one of Aunt Rose’s punches to stop these men. Joe yanked at the golf club, but the man landed his fist squarely on the side of Joe’s head, connecting perfectly with the bump that already throbbed.

  “Somebody wants a word with you, boy.”

  But Joe hardly heard what the man said. Tiny yellow lights sparkled before his eyes as the world became a nauseating, echoing cyclone. He let go of the club and staggered backward, avoiding the man’s grasp through sheer chance, and scrambled out of the kitchen with the scowling enemy a mere arm’s length behind. Fearing
that the pain and shock would shut his mind down at any moment, Joe flailed, throwing anything he could reach behind him as he launched at the front door. It worked. The phone, yanked off the wall, took the cord with it and tripped the man.

  Joe made it to the pavement before he fell, his consciousness slipping away.

  “Bill,” yelled the man. “Give us a hand quick. He’s getting away.”

  “Busy!” came the struggling response.

  Joe could do nothing but lie in the road, wishing for a miracle, hoping maybe someone in the street would see him, but in the small hours of the morning, there was no chance. Not even the neighbors were peering through their curtains to find out what was happening. It seemed they’d all had enough drama for one night with the burst water pipe.

  Something hard caught Joe’s hand as it flopped by his side—something small and round he’d left in his pocket. He pulled it out, barely able to focus, and as he realized what it was, he wondered if his miracle had come.

  It was the cap of the bottle he’d used for the kappa juice. Joe thrust it in his mouth, searching the edges with his tongue, desperate for the foul taste that might be his salvation. Two tiny drops assaulted his taste buds. Joe’s vision began to clear as a man’s silhouette filled the doorway and lunged toward him. Two hands grasped his shoulders.

  But it was too late. The kappa juice had given Joe just enough energy to fling the man backward and stand up. Feeling the strength in his veins fading already, Joe took off, letting his legs guide his faltering body away from the house, down the road, and into Ringwood Forest.

  Through the trees he ran, relying more on instinct than sight as his mind slipped into dark chaos. The blur of trees and moonlight swirled as he staggered on, overwhelmed by pain, lashed by branches, almost believing his flight would never end.

  At last he fell hard against the doors of the one place he knew he could rely on more than anywhere else—Merrynether Mansion.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Consciousness returned to Joe with tangy thirst. Gurgling complaints from his stomach told him he was hungry too, especially with the aroma of a roast wafting into his nostrils. Joe held his eyes shut, enjoying the smell, vaguely aware that some horrible reality was about to force its way into his thoughts and spoil this moment of comfort. Roast onions, sizzling beef, and . . . yes, definitely pork sausages. Was it Sunday? Who was cooking? Not Mum; she’d gone to see Nan. And Aunt Rose was . . . Aunt Rose!

  Joe sat bolt upright and opened his eyes. Golden late-afternoon light streamed through a window at the other end of the room, but this wasn’t his bedroom. A small crowd surrounded him. The two globbles and Danariel floated on either side, Mrs. Merrynether stood by the door with Archy the pig, and Kiyoshi sat at the end of his bed with his legs tucked inside his shell.

  “Good evening.” Mrs. Merrynether smiled.

  Joe shook his head and tried to recall his last memories. Aunt Rose had been nabbed by two of Redwar’s men. He’d been hit hard by one of them, and he’d run away. The last thing he remembered was collapsing outside Merrynether Mansion and someone pulling him through the door.

  “How are you feeling?” Mrs. Merrynether asked.

  Joe tentatively reached for the bump on his head. It was gone, and so was the pain. “Much better, thanks.”

  “You’re very welcome. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes. But, Mrs. Merrynether, I—”

  “That’s a good sign. You’ll need to eat something solid after being out for this length of time.”

  “What d’you mean? How long have I been asleep?”

  “I’ll leave the others to explain. I’m going to serve up dinner, and I’ll see you in the dining room once you’re dressed.” She smiled again and left the room.

  Joe saw a fresh set of his clothes folded on a chair by the window and wondered how they’d got there. A glass of water sat on the table next to his bed, and he guzzled it.

  Danariel fluttered down to sit cross-legged on top of Kiyoshi’s shell, much to the kappa’s irritation. “You’ve been unconscious for almost three days,” she said.

  “Three days? But I can’t have been. What about—?”

  “I am afraid our photomantic companion is quite accurate,” said Kiyoshi, popping a green hand out of his shell and extending a suckered index finger as if teaching a class. “You have been in a state of neurological challenge for almost thirty-one hours. During that period, you have volunteered utterances one can describe only as linguistic absurdity.”

  Danariel giggled. “He said you’ve been unconscious and talking in your sleep.”

  “I have? What did I say?”

  “Lots of things. Most of it didn’t make sense, but you managed to let us know Redwar’s men had broken into your home and were looking for you.”

  “Did I say anything about Aunt Rose?”

  “Yes, we know what happened. Redwar’s men have kidnapped her, hoping to get to you. As soon as we heard you talking about it, Mrs. Merrynether asked Lilly to get his . . . associates to check. The whole house has been tidied, but there’s no one home. We managed to get some of your things here, but—”

  “Has anyone called the police?”

  “Of course not,” said Kiyoshi. “No evidence remains for the local constabulary to perform a satisfactory examination. Any action on their part would be mere futility.”

  “Then if nobody else is going to do anything, I have to,” said Joe, jumping out of bed and grabbing his clothes off the chair.

  Danariel stood and pirouetted on Kiyoshi’s shell. “What are you thinking of doing?”

  “I don’t know,” said Joe, jumping into his jeans, “but we know Redwar’s to blame, so—”

  “Do you happen to remember any of your dreams?”

  “No.” Joe pulled his T-shirt on slowly, trying to remember any images from his time asleep. “Why? What’s that got to do with anything?”

  The kappa turned in time with Danariel, trying to swat the smiling seraph off his shell but failing. With a grunt, Kiyoshi faced Joe. “It is clear from your choice of words during your time of somnolence that your dreamscape has been subjected to excessive psychonetic influences. You have been a witness to the Tree of Sanctuary on Pyronesia, a symbol unknown to the unenlightened but romanticized in the racial memory of all human culture and transcribed in mythology and legend throughout the ages.”

  “I do keep having a dream about a massive tree with loads of eyes on it, but what’s that got to do with Aunt Rose?”

  “You said you wanted to do something,” said Danariel.

  “I do.” Joe laced up his shoes.

  “Argoyle Redwar has left Upton Puddle. He took your Aunt Rose with him.”

  “He took my aunt with him? But Mrs. Merrynether said Redwar wanted to go to Pyronesia. Why does he want to take her there?”

  “We think his real intention was to take you, but instead, he decided to take your aunt as a hostage.”

  “She might be hurt. What if Redwar—?”

  “Your aunt is in no immediate peril. I was able to discern a communiqué sent directly to us in old Morse code late last night.”

  “Morse code? How? Where from?”

  “It was brief,” said Danariel, “and I’m sure Kiyoshi would love to explain in great length how he knew about the message, but he can do that later. It seems she was taken on board a boat, but she has already managed to escape her cell and will contact us again once they’ve reached land and it’s safe to communicate.”

  “Really? She’s amazing,” said Joe, relieved. “I can’t wait to hear how she managed that.”

  “There’s more. We only know the small amount of information Thumbler passed on to Mrs. Merrynether before he died, but he overheard Redwar talking to his secretary and it seems they have secured an army.”

  “He’s going to invade Pyronesia?”

  “It seems likely.”

  Joe slumped in his chair. “What are we supposed to do against an army?”

  “Not
hing. It’s what the Pyronesian Conclave will do that we need to worry about.”

  “Who?”

  “The Conclave are the rulers of the island. If Redwar attacks, it could provoke a terrible war that will reach far beyond the boundaries of Pyronesia.”

  Joe shook his head. “Like a world war or something? Are the Pyronesians really that powerful?”

  “Yes, like a world war. And, yes, they are very powerful.”

  Joe stiffened. “And we have to go there? What are we supposed to do? What will I do?”

  “There’s been a lot of planning, and plenty has been done while you’ve been asleep.” Danariel smiled. “Come on. It’s time you had dinner. I’m sure Veronica will tell you more while you eat.”

  Dinner was a strange affair. Joe had never been in the mansion’s dining room or tasted any of Mrs. Merrynether’s cooking. The room, designed to accommodate extravagant banquets and enthrall its guests with fine art and intriguing sculptures, had long been abandoned for that purpose. There was no question it had been well looked after, but now only one square table was positioned in a corner of the hall, surrounded by the necessities to feed two people. It seemed a very lonely place, and Heinrich’s absence was obvious.

  When Mrs. Merrynether came into the room with two plates of steaming food, Joe felt something in the atmosphere. Mrs. Merrynether’s smile was strained when she set their meal on the table. She sat opposite him.

  Joe salivated at the sight of the food, which wasn’t roast beef or pork sausages but was smothered in thick gravy and smelled like something from heaven.

  “What are these?” Joe prodded at something that looked like a brown carrot with a yellow tip.

  “Try it.”

  He pressed into it with his knife and felt the skin split. Clear juices ran out, and Joe loaded his fork with a generous chunk. Usually, he would have been cautious about trying something new, but his hunger gnawed with such persuasion that he thrust it in his mouth and chewed. His taste buds tingled as he munched and the flavors oozed over his tongue. “It’s like lamb but with a sort of orangey thing going on.”

  “It is rather like lamb, isn’t it?” she said, cutting into her own food. “But you won’t find any meat on these plates. Not that I’m against eating meat, of course. It’s just that we’re rather short in the larder at the moment, so I had to improvise with some of the garden vegetables.”