Sabotage at Somerset: A charmingly fun paranormal cozy mystery (Oxford Key Mysteries Book 4)

by Lynn Morrison

  I nearly faint in relief, but Ike looks crestfallen. Beadle pats him on the arm and adds, "Don't worry, Ike. I'll let you rough her up either way. You'll get your fun."

  Ike smiles cruelly and my cold sweats redouble.

  "Now, where were we?" Beadle asks, pretending to think for a moment. "Ah yes. Since you asked so nicely, Nat, I will tell you how we've arrived at this point. Unlike you and your lot of friends, we haven't bumbled our way here. Step by step and piece by piece, I have single-handedly created my own connection to the magic. Do you think I've chosen the items I acquired at random? Ha!" he barks. His stare makes my skin crawl.

  He curls his lip up, smirking at me. "That shows what fools you are! You wouldn't even know where to start, not like I did. After years at the Ashmolean, I knew the location of every single artefact in Oxford. I handpicked items which I knew were likely to be connected to the magic but stayed away from anything which might try to stand in our way… like your portrait of Catherine Morgan at St Margaret. I knew she'd never help."

  I must admit, I'm impressed. None of us had a clue why Beadle was stealing the items he did. I let some of my surprise show. "So why did you take the portrait from Iffley College? How did you know the person in it wouldn't react with the same scorn as Catherine?"

  "The portrait of Iffley College's Hobbesian professor? He worshipped the ground Hobbes walked on. I let Hobbes do all the talking, and he was more than happy to lend his expertise."

  A shiver of fear runs up my spine as I have my first doubt about my ability to get free and to best Beadle. Even after we learned of his connection to Hobbes, we still didn't put all the pieces together — not Kate, our art expert; Mathilde, our historian; or even Edward, our criminal psychologist.

  Ike, sensing my moment of weakness, punches his fist into his hand again. I flinch, jerking upright in reflex to the pounding thud. My movement comes as a blessing. A few strands of the weakened twine bindings break apart, reviving my hope of escape.

  "So, you see, Natalie, I have taken my time, plotting every step of the way. And when I needed more information on how the magic works, Wren himself stepped in."

  I can't stop the look of shocked horror which crosses my face.

  "Not that he knew he was helping," Beadle adds, oblivious to my reaction, too caught up in his story. "Hobbes had heard rumours of a secret chamber in Barnard College, shortly before his death. It was easy enough to find once we knew where to look. We took the papers which talked about how the magic works and left the rest behind."

  I feel another strand in the twine give. I'm getting closer to freedom, but I still need to buy more time. "What about Andrei Radu, the guard at the Ashmolean? If you were so clever at getting in and out, why did you need to involve him?"

  Beadle huffs and rolls his eyes. "Ah, Natalie, as you surely must know, there are limits to what the magic can do. I know the security system at the Ashmolean inside and out, so I was all too aware of the challenge it would pose. Finding someone on the inside, someone as disenchanted as I am, wasn't hard."

  "And what? You murdered him as soon as he stopped being useful?" I frown in disappointment. "You've become rather bloodthirsty, Beadle."

  Ike perks up at my words, swaggering close and leering at me, sending me slumping sideways to get away from him. Beadle laughs at the sight of my fear, further cementing my previous statement.

  Losing his job at the Ashmolean to Kate clearly unhinged something in Oswald, turning him from a mild-mannered art historian into a cut-throat criminal. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would find it impossible to believe. He is intoxicated by his newfound power and his ability to run roughshod over us prefects. Two years ago, I suspect he would have flinched at the sight of blood. Now watching me tremble in fear gives him a rush.

  My hand slips sideways, the sharp point of the nail slicing across the pad of my hand. I nearly shriek in pain but manage to swallow it down. I can't stop the tears from filling my eyes, though.

  Oswald notes them but takes them to mean something else. "Look, Ike. The poor girl is crying. Do you think she's finally realised she is beaten and that no one is going to rescue her?"

  "Is it time, guv? I've been wanting to show her what a broken rib feels like ever since she walked into our Torture Museum. I thought I'd start with the pliers, eh? She'll sing for you, she will. I give you my promise."

  I pipe up before Beadle can respond. "Wait, I still have another question." The men stop their discussion and turn to look my way. "Why do you have to kill us? I know you want to rip away Oxford's connection to the magic, to make Kate pay for how she treated you, but why me? Why Mathilde?"

  An older man, dressed in a voluminous black cloak and a broad-collared white shirt, steps out from the next aisle.

  "I can answer that question, Miss Payne."

  ❖

  The man needs no introduction. It is Thomas Hobbes, looking the same as he does in his portrait sitting in the basement at the Ashmolean. Painted at the height of his popularity, he looks every inch the distinguished scholar. The crown of his head is bald, shining in the pale moonlight. Thick, white hair circles his head and tumbles down to his shoulder. A matching moustache and narrow beard complete his look.

  His eyes are feverishly bright, hinting at the madness brought on by spending an eternity burning in a jealous rage. He sweeps across the floor, coming to a stop halfway between my chair and where Beadle and his henchman, Ike, are standing. He crooks a finger up at the tree and holds out his arm. The crow glides down and lands on Hobbes' outstretched arm.

  "Fenius, that dreadful wyvern creature has been circling over the garden. Be a good lad, will you, and chase him off for us? He's no match for your cleverness," Hobbes instructs him.

  Fenius preens under Hobbes' gaze, bobbing his head in agreement. His screeching voice echoes off the glass walls and ceiling, promising, "I'll lead that sad excuse of a lizard on a merry chase, and pick over his bones when he tires out. You needn't worry, he won't bother you."

  Hobbes uses his free hand to reach into a pocket in his robe, pulling out a grizzled piece of meat. Fenius plucks it out of his hand and then flies off. The scraping sound of a window opening signals the bird's departure from the greenhouse.

  Hobbes steeples his hands together, peering over the top of them. His stare makes my skin crawl. There is so much evil in his gaze that I decide slicing my hand again will be a small price to pay for getting out of here. I line up the twine against the sharp point, furiously working on remaining strands.

  "Oxford University has been a juggernaut for too long, Miss Payne," Hobbes begins, twisting to pace in front of me. "Its leaders refused to acknowledge my brilliance while I was alive. I clung to Eternal life, determined to bring them and their beloved colleges down. With your help, I will finally see the situation remedied."

  "My help?" I squeak, my voice heavy with concern and a healthy tinge of fear.

  Hobbes turns, pacing the other way. "I have studied the magic for centuries, seeking to understand its secrets. Wilkins, Wren, and their group of mad philosophers have managed to keep some things from me, but not all. I know now what it takes to keep the magic stable."

  He pauses, directly in front of me. "The magical connection requires two things — the copper rods, endowed with an as-of-yet unknown property, and a prefect." He leans over, sneering in my face. "That's you, my dear."

  Beadle coughs, making a valiant effort to regain control of the situation. "At first, we thought stretching the magic to London would be enough to destabilise it. When that failed to rip the magic away, we began stealing some of the magical items."

  "I still believe that approach would work, boy," Hobbes interrupts, glaring Beadle back into his place. "But it is taking too long. I have eternity, but my many-great-grandson does not. So unfortunately for you, this leaves us with only one option remaining."

  "To torture her," Ike jeers. "Is it my turn to have a go at her yet? I'll get you the information you need."

&nb
sp; "Almost," Hobbes calls out, smiling generously at the muscle-bound Eternal standing behind him. "I am sorry for you, Miss Payne. You and your friends are innocent, bound up in this system through no fault of your own. But we are not inclined to pardon you. As long as you and the other prefects live, and any person aware of your connection, so too lives the magic of Oxford."

  Having completed his speech, Hobbes waves Beadle to the front and turns over the proverbial reins. Beadle nods at Hobbes and circles around me. I take great care to keep him from realising how close I am to loosening the twine around my wrists.

  I can hear the glee in his voice when he returns to his place beside Ike. "Nat, you will tell us who knows about the magic of Oxford. I have my suspicions that it goes beyond you, Kate, and Mathilde. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I will say that the choice is yours, but perhaps it will help you decide quicker if you get a taste of the hard option first."

  My eyes grow wide as he rests his hand on Ike's back and says, "Break her nose, Ike."

  Ike flexes his muscles in delight, his smile is warped and monstrous as he swaggers across the small clearing. With my hands and feet tied, there is no where I can go and nothing I can do to escape the blow which is about to come my way. Ike knows this. The vein in his forehead pulses in a frenzied glee.

  He straightens up, pumping his arm forward to check his aim. My face drains of colour and adrenaline races through my body, begging me to do something, anything to avoid the pain which is coming. Satisfied that everything is as he likes, Ike casts one last glance at Hobbes and Beadle, making sure there is to be no last-minute reprieve.

  The two men limit themselves to a single nod of the head, dooming me without saying a word.

  Ike holds his hand in front of my face, folding his fingers over, one by one, into a fist. I cower. He gives me a toothy grin, satisfied by my fright.

  Three things happen simultaneously.

  Ike pulls his arm back.

  Glass shatters, raining from the ceiling.

  I throw myself sideways, toppling over in the chair and ripping my hands apart with the force.

  Ike's fist misses its target, grazing the side of my head as he twists upward in shock at the crash of breaking glass. Unable to get free completely, I stick my hands out and cushion my fall as the chair tumbles sideways. Before I can do anything else, a sleek black body bullets past me, sending a stream of flames at my feet. I kick the rope from my ankles as it burns with small flames. I have to rush to get loose of them before the magic repairs the damage H has done.

  "H, you found me!" I cry, nearly weeping with joy at the sight of my best friend somersaulting above the citrus trees in the greenhouse, the crow fast on his heels. Beadle and Hobbes stare up in shock at the sight of the two winged creatures chasing each other furiously. Ike, instead, is dumbfounded, unable to process the sudden change in the situation.

  I take advantage of the momentary distraction and dart off into the depths of the greenhouse. With any luck, I'll find a doorway and manage to escape into the garden. Ike's roar of frustration fills the air as he smashes his way into the narrow path, shoving potted trees out of his way. I scurry in and out of the small openings, rethinking my plan to dash for the door. Ike is too close behind; I'll need to outsmart him if I hope to escape.

  Hobbes recovers from his surprise and begins issuing orders. "Ike, don't let her out of here. Kill her if you must. Oswald, check all the doors and make sure they are locked. If the lizard found us, her friends won't be too far behind."

  Moving as quickly as I dare, I hunt for a hiding space. There are plenty of pools of shadows, but all of them are too exposed for me to feel safe. Finally, I spot a cluster of shrubs sitting close together. Heedless of their sharp-edged leaves, I drop to my knees and crawl in between them. I scrounge around in one of the pots until I find a small stone, daring to reach out an arm to toss it as far as I can to redirect him away from me. Amazingly, it works. Ike pauses at the sound and turns to follow it, moving away from me.

  I take a moment to catch my breath and examine my wrists and hands. They are red with blood, rubbed raw from the twine and further slicked from the cut in my palm. My ankles are tender from where H's flames licked across them, but I'm amazed they aren't worse. How he managed to aim his flames and sever the ropes without hurting me more, I will never know. I forcefully stave off the mental breakdown I can feel looming over me. Now isn't the time to fall to pieces. I can do that when H and I are safe. I gulp back a sob and take a few steadying breaths.

  The sound of more shattering glass pulls my attention upwards. H is crashing in and out of the roof, barely staying ahead of Fenius. It takes me a moment to figure out what he is doing. "Of course! He must be signalling to the others where we are," I whisper. Indeed, each time he soars into the sky, he shoots a jet of flame and a shout for help.

  As Eternals, Hobbes and Ike don't have to worry about the falling glass, but Beadle and I don't have the same luxury. I pull my knees tight and tuck my chin against my chest, burrowing deeper into the shrubs. Beadle shouts for assistance at the other end of the greenhouse, urging Fenius to stop playing with his prey and finish off H.

  How long can H hold his lead? Where is Edward? Why aren't the other Eternals here yet? My mind overflows with questions, nearly pushing me into a panic. One thing is clear — I can't stay hidden here forever. I need to get out of this greenhouse and into the open, where Edward and the Eternals can more easily lend a hand.

  In the cacophony of breaking glass and men's shouts, I have to fight past my fear and lift my head up for a look around. I strain my eyes, searching for any hint of a doorway. Leafy fruit trees sit in carefully tended rows, blocking my view. My throat starts to close, terror rising as my aches and pains clamour for attention. I need to move now.

  Ike is nowhere in sight. I shift until my feet are underneath me. It takes all my strength and willpower to raise my head above the shrubs and glance around. I scan the space, desperate for a clue. My gaze snags on the metal joints crisscrossing the roof. I trace one of them until it slopes downward. That must be the wall, and it isn't far away. There can't be more than two rows of trees separating me from it.

  The way still clear, I drop down and crawl out of my hideaway. Staying bent over, making use of the shadows, I skitter sideways into the nearby row of trees. Creeping slowly, careful not to touch a single branch which might giveaway my movements, I slink forward. My eyes land on the doorframe and Ike at the same time. He must have cottoned onto my plan and decided, why hunt your prey if you know it will eventually come to you? He has chosen to take up guard in front of the doorway instead of trying to flush me out of my hiding space.

  He stands in a circle of moonlight, his muscles etched in silver, his stance menacing. I tuck deeper into the shadows, sizing up my chances for escape. There is no way I can get past him, not without help. Nor can anyone hope to get inside to help me, not with Ike blocking the way.

  There is only one Eternal who stands of chance of sending Ike running for cover: my wyvern, H. H's flames don't have any effect on Bartie and my grandfather, but they do on creatures like the crow. Will Ike, a newly created Eternal, know that he is safe from the flames, or will the threat of fire be enough to scare him away from his post? There's only one way to find out.

  I cup my hands around my mouth and shout into the air. "Aiitchh! The doorway! Come burn us a way out of here!"

  ❖

  H wrests his upward trajectory and arcs downward, hurtling straight at Ike. This is the make-or-break moment in my hastily assembled plan. Will Ike stand his ground in the face of a fiery cannonball?

  I move one leg back, readying myself to sprint for the door as soon as the way is clear.

  H whizzes lower and lower, spewing flames left and right, setting all the fruit trees inside the greenhouse on fire. The warning is clear. Ike is his next target.

  Ike stands tall, his chest puffed out, seemingly invincible, but small tremors betray his fear. I am almost
convinced that our plan is doomed to fail when an unlikely source comes to our aid.

  "Move, man!" Fenius shouts at Ike. "He'll burn you to a crisp!"

  That's all the encouragement Ike needs. He throws himself out of H's way just in time. H doesn't slow his pace. He lets his momentum propel him through the doorway, banging it open so hard that the glass shatters and the frame pops loose. I am a half step behind him, gulping in the fresh night air as I sprint onto the riverside path outside.

  "Nat!" Edward shouts from ahead, his voice ragged with emotion. He steps out from the shadows, his arms open wide. I throw myself into them, sobbing in relief. He clings to me just as tightly, both of us elated to find one another, safe and whole.

  H circles around us, skidding to a stop between us and the greenhouse. He gives a quick glance, checking we are okay, before returning his attention to our advancing enemy.

  The crow bursts from the open doorway, his ear-piercing caws sending shivers down my spine as he flies out of the greenhouse. Fenius shifts his body, expanding his wings and pumping them backwards, slowing to hover a few metres in front of H.

  Fenius cackles. In the moonlight, he looks like a creature straight out of hell, his black eyes ablaze with warning, threatening agony for all around him.

  "Look at you three, gasping for breath. Pathetic!" Fenius cackles. "You've gotten free of the greenhouse, but where will you go? Our Eternals will soon fill the garden."

  H glares at Fenius but remains silent.

  "Cat got your tongue?" Fenius taunts H. "Or have you finally reached the end of your energy stores, old man?"

  H gives us one more quick look over his shoulder. Edward clutches me tighter, pulling us back a few steps.

  Smoke curls from H's nostrils, twirling in the air. He takes in a deep breath, flares his wings out and roars. His thunderous roar booms louder and louder, his chest expanding, his wingspan doubling and tripling. In seconds, H transforms from a cat-sized wyvern into an enormous, fire-breathing beast. His spiky tail smashes into the ground, sending dirt and stones flying into the air. He towers over us, standing twice our height. His eyes glow bright yellow, shining brighter than the streetlights. His teeth are sharp daggers, and his talons are larger than my hand. He is a creature of nightmares.