The Return of Beaumont and Beasley: The Janus Elixir and The Hound of Duville (Beaumont and Beasley Book 4)

by Kyle Shultz

  Patrick leaned toward me and whispered, “Is he—you know—okay? ‘Cause I’ve got some horse tranquilizer in case we have to knock him out.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I murmured in reply. In a louder voice, I said, “Look, Dr. Michi, there’s no need for things to become difficult. All we want to know is—”

  “—what have you done with Cordelia, you evil witch!” Crispin slammed his hand down on the examination table. “Talk!”

  Yrsa was completely unmoved. “Cordelia?”

  “Who’s she, then?” asked Patrick.

  “Run while you still can, Patrick!” Crispin pointed to him. “You may think you’re safe, but it’s only a matter of time before she turns you into a dog, too!”

  Patrick frowned. “Eh? But…”

  “And by the way…” Crispin hurried over to the lion’s cage and unfastened the latch.

  I raised my hand. “Um, Crispin, half a second—are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

  “Of course it is! This is some poor human that she turned into a lion for her precious zoo. We have to help him!” He swung the cage door wide open. “Be free, my friend! As soon as we get Cordelia back, she can turn you into your old self again.”

  The lion looked blankly at the open cage door, then at Crispin.

  Crispin’s expression changed to one of concern. “Hang on.” He glanced at Yrsa. “Are you…not…no, you’ve got to be. All the clues point to it.”

  “I’ve got a very worrying feeling that she isn’t, Crispin,” I said, my fur standing on end. “And I’d advise that you close that cage. Very carefully.”

  Crispin’s face went nearly as white as his hair. “All righty, then,” he said, his voice quavering slightly. “Sorry, Jeremiah. Nice kitty.”

  “Perhaps you should have checked his aura for spells before opening up the cage,” I suggested.

  “Yeah, well, bit late to talk about that now, isn’t it?” The cage door creaked as he slowly began to push it shut. “I’m just going to close this door, and we can pretend that none of this ever hap—”

  Jeremiah gave a mighty roar and charged out of the cage.

  “Crispin!” I lunged forward and shoved him out of the way before the lion could leap onto him. I crouched in front of Jeremiah, opened my mouth wide, and roared. He responded in kind.

  I didn’t particularly enjoy letting the beastlier side of my nature out to play…but it looked as if I wasn’t going to have a choice in the matter.

  Chapter 9

  Teeth and Ambitions

  Just as I was about to spring and start fighting with Jeremiah, a completely unexpected sound made me stop. Laughter. From Yrsa, from Patrick…and from Jeremiah. The lion was sitting on his haunches, chuckling in a very human manner. He slapped a huge forepaw on the ground as mirth overwhelmed him.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, glaring at Yrsa. “What’s going on here? I thought we were wrong! That Jeremiah was an ordinary lion!”

  “Yes, I know,” said Yrsa, dabbing at tears of laughter with the corner of her coat. “We really should have explained straight away, but…” She broke down into cackling yet again.

  “Your faces!” Patrick guffawed. “Funniest thing ever.”

  “Indeed,” said Jeremiah, in a deep, sonorous voice. “Most amusing. I shall treasure this memory for decades to come.”

  Crispin folded his arms and tapped his foot in irritation. “Well, I’m sure Nick and I are both thrilled that we’ve brought a little joy into your lives, but would you all mind explaining what the devil is going on here?”

  I crossed my arms. “Yes, I’d quite like to know that myself.”

  Yrsa finally managed to regain control after her latest fit of giggles. “First of all, you’re not entirely wrong. I am Circe.” She motioned to the lion. “And Jeremiah is actually a human under a spell. But I didn’t curse him. He asked for this. In fact, he’s getting paid for this.”

  My jaw fell. “What?”

  “I am an actor,” said the scar-faced lion, casually inspecting his claws. “Perhaps you’re familiar with my work. My stage name is Sir Jeremiah Steele.”

  Crispin and I exchanged glances, then shook our heads. “Sorry,” I said. “Never heard of you.”

  Jeremiah sighed. “Yes, well, you wouldn’t have. You young people only care about those dreadful newfangled motion pictures, not real theatre.”

  “Sir Jeremiah’s one of the greats,” said Patrick. “Always praised for his incredible acting range.”

  “Yes,” said Jeremiah, “until I was attacked by someone wielding a magical weapon, and my face was irreparably scarred.” He raised a paw to the damage around his eye. “Never mind how it happened; that’s a story for another time. The point is, because an enchanted blade dealt the blow, no magic was capable of completely healing it. And because my features were no longer pristine, my career fell apart.”

  Crispin snorted. “And now you’re a zoo animal?”

  Jeremiah glared at him. “You speak as if I should be ashamed of my current role.”

  “He didn’t mean it like that,” I hastened to assure the lion.

  “This is the greatest acting challenge I have ever had the pleasure to take on!” declared Jeremiah, pacing back and forth across the room. “Circe’s spell grants me the form of a lion, but leaves my human mind and nature completely preserved—which means that I have to study and practice to an incredible degree to convincingly portray a creature of the jungle. Never before have I had the opportunity to devote myself so fully to my art.”

  Crispin shook his head. “Okay. Whatever makes you happy, I suppose.”

  “I am also paid a generous salary by the city of Talesend,” Jeremiah added.

  I looked sharply at Yrsa. “Hold on. Are all the animals in this zoo paid human actors under your enchantments?”

  “Oh, not every single one,” she said. “Just the larger species, really. The ones that are the hardest to look after, if you’re dealing with authentic specimens. When I first came to this zoo, the animals—all of whom were real animals—were miserable. The standards of care were hopelessly outdated. So after creating the identity of Dr. Michi, I put forth a proposal to the authorities—now that the Council was no longer in control of magic, there was no reason I couldn’t. I helped the zoo to release quite a few of the animals back into the wild, after using magic to undo the effects of so many years in captivity and restore their natural instincts. They’d earned that much. Then I sent out some discreet appeals for humans who might be willing to replace them. Even I was surprised by the number of inquiries—mostly from the theatrical community.”

  “But it’s all on the level,” said Patrick. “The authorities know all about it, and the actors get paid stacks of money. Plus, they’ve got excellent contracts that protect their rights. They’re allowed to return to their human forms any time they wish.”

  I struggled to process all of this. The secrets of this city never ceased to surprise me. “So you’re saying you don’t have anything to do with the dogs.”

  Yrsa blinked. “Dogs? What dogs? We haven’t got any of those in the zoo. A few hyenas who used to be unsuccessful comedians, but no canis familiaris. There wouldn’t be much interest in them.”

  I smacked Crispin on the arm. “See? I told you it didn’t make sense!”

  “Right, yeah, I remember.” He rubbed his arm. “Also, ouch. Watch the claws.”

  “What’s all this about dogs?” Yrsa demanded.

  I explained about the recent transformations in the city, Cordelia’s disappearance, and finding the Tartarus Shackle in Cordelia’s room.

  “Ah!” said Yrsa. “Now I recall Lady Cordelia. Brilliant student.” The wrinkles in her brow deepened as she frowned. “But I didn’t kidnap the girl. I haven’t even seen her in years.” She touched her left wrist. “I got my own shackle off with the help of an old friend—after I told him how to undo the spell that had turned him into an immortal barn owl, of course.”

  “But
if you’re not responsible for all this,” said Crispin, “then who is?”

  “Oi,” I said sharply, “just be quiet for a second.”

  He stared at me in surprise. “What?”

  “I believe I’m making myself quite clear. Shut up. I appreciate your help, but you’ve made a complete mess of this investigation. So now, you need to step back and let me think.”

  “Does this mean that my associates and I can get back to work?” asked Yrsa. She glanced at a clock on the wall. “I’ve got to turn somebody into an elephant in about forty-five minutes. Those are always fiddly.”

  “No, you’re not off the hook,” I said. “You’re still relevant to this case.”

  “I fail to see how,” said Jeremiah. “Didn’t you just establish that she’s innocent?”

  “She might be,” I said, “but there’s still the matter of that shackle.”

  “I’ve told you already, it’s not mine,” said Yrsa. “It must belong to one of the other escapees from the Council prison.”

  “Perhaps,” I said, “or perhaps it was left as a deliberate red herring to point us toward you. The shackle, the men turning into animals—it all seems a bit convenient, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Okay, okay.” Crispin gave an impatient nod. “So somebody deliberately pointed us toward Circe. Yrsa. Whoever. What does that tell us?”

  “I said shush. Hold on a second.” I ruffled up my mane with my fingers in an attempt to stimulate my brain. I’m not sure if it did any good, but an idea did occur to me a few seconds later. “What if they’d been murdered?” I wondered out loud.

  “Who?” asked Patrick.

  “All the blokes who got turned into dogs.”

  “Well,” Jeremiah mused, “on the whole, I’d say they’re better off the way they are, though naturally some of them might disagree.”

  “That’s not my point. I’m trying to strip away all the mumbo-jumbo and just think of this like a normal case. If this were a standard rash of murders, or thefts, or something, what theory would I, ordinary non-magical detective Nick Beasley, come up with?”

  Nobody replied. Fortunately, they didn’t need to, because it was a rhetorical question. “I’ll tell you what my theory would be. I’d be wondering if maybe, somebody had murdered a lot of people—or robbed them, or whatever—in order to cover up one specific crime. Needle in a haystack. You see where I’m going with this?”

  Crispin was the only one who nodded.

  “So,” I continued, “what if the person we’re looking for turned one man into a dog, and then changed a whole bunch more to draw attention away from that one case? And to implicate Circe in the bargain?”

  “That…sort of makes sense,” said Patrick hesitantly. He kept scratching at his left ear.

  “Also, let’s talk about two other clues.” I counted them off on my fingers. “The fact that the magical translation collar failed to work on Gregory—even though it worked fine on Oswalt—and the fact that there was only one person at the Office today who could possibly have kidnapped Cordelia and planted that shackle. She could have done all that and then come back later pretending to be a client, just so she could throw suspicion off herself.”

  “Hold on!” Crispin exclaimed. “Rilla? Seriously? When I suggested her as a suspect, you told me that was a stupid idea!”

  “In context, it was a stupid idea,” I argued. “You were making a wild guess based on the conventions of mystery fiction, not presenting an actual theory based on evidence.”

  “Still,” he insisted, “I suspected her first! You can’t argue with that.”

  “All right, now I’m lost,” said Yrsa, shaking her head. “Who on earth is Rilla?”

  “That girl who’s been in all the papers,” said Jeremiah.

  “The one who’s marrying that Duville chap,” added Patrick, whose scratching had grown more frantic.

  “Oh.” Yrsa nodded. “I know who you mean now. Carrie.”

  I blinked. “Carrie?”

  “That’s the name she used to go by, when she was one of my students.”

  “What?” Crispin and I both shouted in unison.

  “Yes, she was fond of nicknames. The other students changed a few letters in her proper name to turn it into an insult. Which wasn’t very nice, but in fairness, she did ask for it. She was rather cruel.”

  “She’s an enchantress?” said Crispin.

  “Indeed. A moderately powerful one. And quite the social climber as well. Though I suppose Gregory’s current state is an obstacle to her becoming Carilla Duville.”

  “Oi, Yrsa,” said Patrick, “I hate to interrupt, but I think I’ve got the hairy measles.” His skin was mottled with dark, irregularly-shaped spots—which were sprouting fur. He scratched a bit more, then gave a loud yip and dropped to all fours.

  “One hundred and one,” I sighed, as Patrick became a Dalmatian.

  Chapter 10

  Trouble Spots

  “There’s something in the water,” I said, as Patrick began chasing his tail. “In the drinking water, rain, fog, you name it. That has to be what’s going on. Nobody at Warrengate was changing until we showed up and got raindrops on those two blokes.”

  “It makes sense,” said Yrsa, “especially if Carilla is modeling her approach after mine. That’s how I used to do it on my island. All water is connected, so channeling a spell through it is extremely effective and far-reaching.” In the awkward silence that followed this remark, her cheeks flushed red. “What? Don’t look at me like that. It was a long time ago. And besides, most of the stories about me aren’t remotely true. That one about Odysseus and his sailors? All lies. Never even met the man. I can’t think how the rumor got started.”

  “Be that as it may,” I said, interrupting before she could continue her impassioned defense, “Carilla is clearly patterning herself after the legendary Circe. So perhaps you’d be interested in helping us stop her.” I raised an eyebrow at Yrsa.

  “Certainly not!” she exclaimed. “Why would I want to tangle with some loony sorceress? I’m not about to get involved in all that magic-and-monsters nonsense again.” She closed her eyes. “After years of being harassed by the Council, I finally have a peaceful, normal life.”

  “Normal?” Crispin motioned to Jeremiah. “You call this normal?”

  “Watch yourself, boy.” Jeremiah bared his teeth.

  Crispin rolled his eyes. “Oh, shush. You’re just an actor.”

  “A good one,” rumbled Jeremiah.

  “You’d be helping a lot of people,” I pointed out to Yrsa. “Including Patrick.”

  She glanced down at the Dalmatian, who was now running in circles around the examination table and barking joyously. “He doesn’t seem too bothered about it all. I’ve often thought he’d be happier as a dog, though of course one doesn’t like to tell people how to live their lives.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “So you’re just going to leave him like that?”

  “Well, I do rather need an assistant with hands, but I can always hire another one and keep Patrick on as a mascot.” She looked at me and Crispin. “And I’m sure the celebrated Beaumont and Beasley can handle Carilla easily enough without me.”

  “Except we’re not Beaumont and Beasley at the moment,” said Crispin angrily. “We’re Beasley and Beasley. I still don’t understand why Carilla kidnapped Cordelia in the first place.”

  “They were always rivals in school,” said Yrsa dismissively. “Perhaps Carilla wants revenge.”

  “Or she decided to take out the biggest possible threat to her plans before she got started.” I gave Yrsa a reproachful look. “Either way, it would appear that we’re on our own.”

  “We could ask Malcolm for help,” Crispin suggested.

  I frowned. “No.”

  “What you mean, no? He’s a dragon, for crying out loud! Why wouldn’t we want him on our side?”

  “We can’t keep running to him every time we have a difficult job to do,” I argued.

&nbs
p; Crispin narrowed his eyes at me. “That’s not why you don’t want him to help. This is about what he said earlier, isn’t it? You just don’t want me around him.”

  “That’s not true,” I lied.

  “It is, though. Are you really going to place the whole city, and us, in danger just because you’re afraid for Malcolm to get near me? As it stands, I really ought to go back in time and fix this, but I won’t, because I’m doing things your way. I’m not using my powers, just like you want. So why not compromise and bring Malcolm in on this?”

  “We don’t need him,” I insisted. “After all, Carilla doesn’t hold a candle to some of the other evil magic-users we’ve taken down, does she? Let’s not blow this thing out of proportion.”

  Crispin gazed keenly into my eyes for a moment, as if he were looking right through them at all the things I was trying to hide from him. Then he turned to Yrsa. “If she’s using your magic, then can you at least give us some hints about the best way to take her down?”

  She pursed her thin lips. “Not going to lie, boys—you’ve got a tough job ahead of you. Assuming Carilla is employing my exact methods, then she’s made herself the source of the spell. Now, if killing her won’t be a problem for you, then things might be a little bit easier—”

  “I’m afraid it will be a problem,” I said.

  Yrsa clicked her tongue in irritation. “Of course. Well, in that case, your only hope is to talk her down. Maybe you can convince her to undo the enchantment herself.”

  “And if we can’t?” said Crispin.

  “Then short of somehow removing her from this plane of existence entirely so that she’s no longer connected to her victims, I’m afraid your options are quite slim.” She motioned to the elevator behind us. “Whatever you’re about to do, would you mind leaving and getting started on it? I’ve got that elephant thing, remember?”