The Tomb of the Sea Witch (Beaumont and Beasley Book 2)

by Kyle Shultz

  I exhaled slowly. “I could have killed you,” I said casually, standing up and allowing my muscles to relax. “Just pointing that out.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” said Molly cheerfully. “I’m skilled in about twenty forms of combat magic. I could have torn you to shreds before you even got near me.” There was no malice whatsoever in her tone. She could just as easily have been talking about how pretty the moon was.

  I nodded. “That certainly makes me feel better.”

  “You’re very sarcastic, you know.” Again, she showed no hostility. Just friendly interest.

  “Really?” I stroked my chin. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Were you that way before you changed, or would you say that the transformation has effected a shift in your psychology and emotional stability?” She pushed her spectacles up higher on her nose and took a notebook and pen from her bag, ready to write down my answer.

  I opened and closed my mouth a few times, struggling to determine the best answer to this question. “I—er—I suppose I’m just as sarcastic as always? I don’t know. You’d have to ask my brother.”

  “Oh, I will!” she said eagerly, scribbling on her pad. “I’ll be interviewing him in detail. Is he married, by the way?” She tapped the pencil against her lips.

  “Er…no.”

  “Engaged?”

  “No.”

  “Spoken for in any way whatsoever?”

  “No.”

  “Marvelous.” More scribbling. “What do you eat? Do things taste the same as they did before?”

  “Actually, no, now that you mention it. Can’t abide vegetables of any kind. As a matter of fact, nothing seems to taste right.”

  “Nothing…tastes…right…” she sounded out as she wrote. “I’ll have a word with the chef. We’ll get you sorted. And that reminds me…” Shoving the notebook away, she began rummaging for something else in her bag. “I wanted to have a look at your organs,” she explained.

  My eyebrows shot up, and I began backing away slowly. “Whoa, wait, hold on…”

  “It won’t hurt!” she said brightly, producing a wand and holding it towards me. “Just hold still.”

  Runes flickered at the wand’s tip, and a beam of light shone from it onto my chest. I looked down and gave a cry of alarm as I caught sight of my heart and lungs pulsating. “You’ve taken my skin right off!”

  “No, I haven’t. I’ve just made it invisible. It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

  “No,” I admitted. In fact, I couldn’t feel a thing. Still, seeing my rib cage and the organs within exposed like this wasn’t very pleasant.

  “Fascinating.” Molly moved the wand this way and that as she inspected my insides. “Absolutely fascinating. Four lungs, an extra ventricle in the heart, a couple of additional stomachs…or are those kidneys?”

  “Yes, brilliant, thank you,” I said, gently taking hold of her wrist to move the wand away from me. This was beginning to get a little too personal.

  “Your biology is truly remarkable,” said Molly, slipping the wand back into her pocket.

  “Thanks, but I’d really prefer to get uncursed and have my old, boring biology back.”

  Her face fell. “That would be a shame. You’d be destroying such a unique creature.”

  “It’s not that I want to destroy him!” I protested. “I mean…destroy it! None of this is personal. He’s not a person! He’s just…an infection!”

  “All right, all right,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “No need to get upset. I’m a cryptobiologist. I’m in the business of preserving things that other people call ‘monsters.’”

  “Is there a lot of call for endangered-species preservation at Warrengate?”

  She shrugged. “They’d use a different name for it.”

  “What name?”

  “Weapons research.”

  I gaped at her. “You mean…your job here is to weaponize monsters?”

  “No, no. I just study them. I don’t get into the combat applications. My role is to ensure that they’re safe and well-cared for. And besides, it’s not like anyone’s actually planning to use them for something like that right now. These days, the Council prefers for magic to be kept secret. Enchanters flying hippogriffs into battle over the streets of Talesend doesn’t really mesh with that philosophy.”

  “So it’s more of a contingency plan.”

  “Yes, that sums it up pretty well.” She fell silent, an uncomfortable look on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I…I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I overheard you and Christopher and Cordelia talking.”

  This was one of those times when being a beast made subtlety difficult. I tried to remain nonchalant, but my ears pricked up and my tail started twitching nervously. Stupid monster body, I thought. Out loud, I said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “What did you hear, exactly?”

  “Not everything. It was hard to make out the bits you weren’t yelling. I do know that you and your brother aren’t what you claim to be. I know you’re all here because you’re looking for…something. And I know it’s all part of a plan to change you back.” She laid a hand on my arm. “Maybe I can help.”

  “Er…no.” I gently pulled away from her. “I’m sorry, but we’ve come too far to risk it all by trusting someone we’ve just met. Especially…well, never mind.”

  “You were going to say, ‘Especially someone related to Lord Whitlock.’” She spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, as if this truth didn’t bother her in the least.

  Feeling uncomfortable, I reached up to rub an itchy spot near the base of my left horn. “Not in those exact words, perhaps, but the thought did cross my mind.”

  “I’m nothing like my uncle. And my parents didn’t raise me like Cordelia’s raised her. She never knew my father very well. He was different. My mother was a good influence on him.”

  “That’s all fine,” I said, interrupting her before she could launch into her full memoirs, “but I just can’t be sure that you’re trustworthy.” I gave her a stern look. “I hope you’re not intending to blackmail us with what you overheard. Because if that’s your plan, I’ll have to speak to Cordelia about getting you out of the way until we’re finished. Maybe she can temporarily turn you into a tortoise or something.”

  “She really couldn’t,” said Molly patiently. “Please tell her not to try anything like that. It won’t end well, and I genuinely wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. Anyway, I won’t blackmail you. I’d just like to help you.”

  I hesitated, trying to read her for any sign that she was lying. Unlike Malcolm, Molly wasn’t a closed book to me. Everything in her manner told me she was telling the truth.

  But it occurred to me that this lie-detector thing was an ability I’d gained from the Beast. Which meant I might not be able to trust it. For all I know, he was trying to manipulate my perceptions for his own agenda.

  I forced myself not to think about how paranoid I was becoming. “Look, you really do seem like a nice person, but…no. We can’t take a chance on trusting you. I hope you understand.”

  Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Right. I had a feeling you’d say that.” She looked up and flashed me a wistful smile. “If you change your mind…”

  “I’ll be sure to let you know if that happens,” I said curtly. “But I’m quite sure it won’t. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I should be getting back to bed.”

  “All right.” She waved at me. “See you later, then.”

  I felt a bit guilty as I turned to walk back to Warrengate. Only a little, though. Not enough to inspire me to change my mind. The only thing that mattered right now was regaining my humanity. I wasn’t going to let anyone—even a seemingly kind girl that Crispin had a crush on—get in the way of that.

  “Just you wait,” I said to the Beast, barely hearing my own voice over the roar of the surf. “
I’m going to get rid of you if it’s the last thing I do.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Breakfast with a Dragon

  “Zup-zup!”

  For the second time in twelve hours, I was rudely awakened out of a sound sleep. Also for the second time, I lost my grip on the rafters and fell on my head.

  “Rrrgh,” I groaned, rolling into a sitting position and rubbing the top of my head. The sun streaming in through the window made my head ache. “What in the—”

  After everything I’d been through recently, the sight of a dragon the size of a dog sitting on my dresser didn’t actually scare me. As I gazed at it, I merely felt a mild sense of surprise.

  “Zup-zup!” it proclaimed again, in a squeaky voice. It waved an envelope at me and gave me a spiky-toothed grin.

  I sniffed and rubbed my eyes. “All right,” I yawned, “presumably you don’t speak Logrish, so I suppose it’s time to dust off the old detective skills. Let’s see…there’s a miniature dragon in my bedroom waving an envelope around.”

  “Vvvook!” cried the dragon, still grinning.

  “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re the local postman. Or something like that.”

  The dragon nodded vigorously. “Nupp!”

  “Hooray. Nathaniel Barlow solves another case.” I stood up and reached out a hand to the creature. “Hand it over then.”

  “Na-na-na!” The dragon stuck the envelope in its mouth and jumped away. (I just assumed it was a “him.”) Then he held out his tiny, three-fingered hand to me, palm upwards.

  “Oh, come on.” I folded my arms. “I’m supposed to tip you, is that it? What’s your standard payment, then? You want my blood? My soul? My firstborn…cub, or whatever?”

  “He just wants a penny, Nick. Don’t be so melodramatic.”

  I spun around. “Cordelia!” I shouted, grabbing a blanket off the unused bed and throwing it around myself. “I’m not dressed!”

  “You’ve got trousers on, and I’ve seen you without a shirt before. Also, you’re covered in fur.” She hoisted a bundle of clothing under her arm.

  “Yeah, but still!” I wrapped the blanket tighter around me. “Anyway, I haven’t got a penny.”

  “I have.” Cordelia opened her handbag, extracted the coin, and tossed it to me. I caught it out of the air and handed it to the imp.

  He grabbed it, tasted it, then chewed it up and swallowed it. “Doop doop!” From his inflection, I gathered this was his version of “thank you.” He gave me the envelope, wriggled his entire body from head to toe, and exploded.

  At least, that was what it looked like. There was a burst of flame, and he was gone, leaving a few scorch marks on top of the dresser.

  “Is he…all right?” I asked Cordelia.

  She made a dismissive gesture. “Of course. He’s just headed off to his next assignment.”

  “What is he, exactly? One of Malcolm’s kids or something?”

  “He’s a salamander.”

  I thought for a moment, then shook my head. “No, he isn’t. I’ve seen salamanders. They’re little slimy newt things.”

  “He’s a real salamander. The non-magical kind was named after the fire-breathing kind. Salamanders are similar to dragons, but not quite as intelligent. They’re more in the category of animals.”

  “Right. Whatever.” I took her in properly for the first time. She was wearing a long, billowing cloak with the hood thrown back, embroidered with a stylized “WG” near the collar. It looked like someone had taken the costume of a stereotypical fairy-tale witch and tried—rather unsuccessfully—to turn it into a school uniform.

  “You look…nice,” I lied.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You were going to say ‘ridiculous,’ weren’t you?”

  “‘Intimidating’ would be a better word, actually.” I squinted at the cloak. It was rustling back and forth despite the fact that Cordelia was standing still and there was no draft in the room. “Why is your outfit moving?”

  “It’s enchanted to do that,” said Cordelia. “It adds ambience. Also, it can stitch itself back together if it gets torn, so that’s convenient, at least. Here’s yours, by the way.” She picked up the bundle on the bed and threw it at me.

  “Wait, what…gah!” I suddenly found myself enveloped in living black fabric. I tried tearing at it with my claws, but they didn’t even pierce it. A few seconds later, I was dressed in the same getup as Cordelia. Part of the cloth had even woven itself into a dark tunic underneath the cloak, leaving me fully clothed.

  “Well?” I spread my arms. “How do I look?”

  She struggled to restrain herself for a few seconds, then burst into a hearty laugh. I’d never seen her so overcome with mirth.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, once she had regained her composure enough to speak. “I’m really sorry…and please don’t take this the wrong way…it’s just that you look like an annoyed cat that’s been forced to wear a silly costume for Hallowe’en.”

  I really should have been offended by this…but I wasn’t. Instead, I found myself chuckling along with her. Then laughing outright. “Do I really?” I asked, between guffaws.

  “Yes, really!” She wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh my goodness.”

  As we both fell silent, still grinning, our eyes met, and we stared at each other for a long, awkward moment. Then we both coughed nervously and averted our respective gazes.

  “You’d—better open your letter,” Cordelia faltered.

  “Right. Yes.” Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I slid a claw through the wax seal on the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. It was a letter, written in bold, curving script.

  Dear Mr. Barlow,

  I am pleased to inform you that your application to teach the Mundane Survival Class at Warrengate Academy has been accepted, effective immediately. You are advised to avoid disappointing me.

  Good luck (you’ll need it),

  Headmaster Malcolm Blackfire

  I noticed that the edges of the paper were charred, and that there was a distinct scent of smoke on the envelope.

  “Did you get the job?” asked Cordelia impatiently.

  “Looks like it. You’ve been hired too, I take it.”

  She nodded. “At least that part of the plan turned out to be successful. We can probably assume they agreed to let Crispin—”

  The door banged open, and Crispin came flying in. A salamander nearly identical to the one who had just vanished from my room was wrapped around his neck, purring in contentment. “Nick, Cordelia, guess what—” He took one look at me, and promptly flopped over onto the bed, rolling around in fits of laughter. The salamander hopped off of him, vanished in a burst of flame, then reappeared on the bedpost. It tilted its head at Crispin’s hysterics, wondering what all the fuss was about.

  “I’m giving you a failing grade in Mundane Survival,” I warned him.

  “But I haven’t failed to survive anything yet!” he protested, still barely containing his giggles.

  “You’ll fail to survive me if you don’t stop laughing.”

  With difficulty, he got control of himself again. The salamander leapt into his arms, and he stroked its back as it snuggled down and went to sleep. “So you’re both going to teach?” he asked, once he was calmer.

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “Which means you’d better get out of here so you’re not late for breakfast,” Cordelia cautioned. “They’ll notice if you’re not there, and they’ll start getting suspicious.”

  Crispin scowled. “Yes, mum.”

  “I am so most definitely not your mum.”

  “What about you two? Aren’t you coming?”

  “I need to talk to Nick about his class. We’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Please try not to ruin everything,” I cautioned him. “Do your best to maintain our cover. Be clever, if you can possibly manage it.”

  “Of course I can manage it!” he retorted, jumping up from the bed. “I’m a
good liar!”

  “You’re an utterly terrible liar; and don’t remind me of that right now. I’ve got enough problems.”

  “You don’t actually have to do much lying,” said Cordelia. “Try to evade questions about your past or your background and just focus on the present. You’re a Charmblood who’s here to study advanced magic. That much is true.”

  “This Nemo-Kiran-whatever bloke,” said Crispin, “what class is he teaching again?”

  “Applied Arcanotechnology,” said Cordelia.

  “What’s that when it’s at home?”

  “He fuses magic with modern gadgets.”

  This intrigued me. “So he’s a scientist?”

  “He’s the closest you can get to being a scientist while still being a magician. His family have been pioneers in the field of magical technology for a long time. Kiran and I were students here, once upon a time.”

  Crispin perked up at this. “You were friends?”

  “You could say that.” Cordelia’s manner was guarded.

  “More than friends? And then something happened? Is that why you ended up trying to feed him to a shark?” Crispin set the salamander next to him on the bed and propped his chin on his hands, an eager smile on his face. “Tell me everything.”

  “For Pete’s sake, Crispin, you’re not nine years old.” I hauled him off the bed and shooed him towards the door. “Now get to breakfast and get…orientated, or whatever this school does to new students.” I turned to Cordelia. “They’re not going to make him sign some sort of dark magical blood pact, are they?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t think so…”

  “What do you mean, you don’t think so?”

  “I’ll manage!” said Crispin. He made a clucking noise at the salamander, who vanished from the bed and reappeared in his arms. “This is Sparky, by the way,” he said, cradling the miniature dragon like a baby. “I met him when he delivered my letter this morning. I’ve decided to adopt him.”