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

by Kyle Shultz

  Cordelia closed her eyes. “Nick, people in high society do not talk like that.” She paused, then amended, “At least, not all of them do.”

  “But you couldn’t bring yourself to change him back. Not after he tried to humiliate you. So you went with a different option. You spread Gregory’s curse to all other men in Talesend, so that people would be less likely to point fingers at you. You’d be just another innocent bystander.”

  “Right,” said Crispin. “Brilliant plan, Carilla; inspired dénouement, Nick. Now, I think we can move on to—”

  “I’m not finished!” I growled.

  Crispin’s head drooped. “Of course you’re not.”

  “There were still a few loose ends you needed to tie up,” I told Carilla. “You knew there was one person who would probably figure it out, given her knowledge of your past. A former school friend who was now an investigator of crimes like yours. You had to get her out of the way. So, you hatched a plan to frame Professor Circe for the rash of transformations, and used Beaumont and Beasley to pull it off. You left the Tartarus Shackle in Cordelia’s room when you kidnapped her, stashed her away here, and then showed up on our front doorstep with Gregory to put in some additional play-acting.” I snorted. “You’re lucky Cordelia never told me that you were actually an enchantress and an old enemy of hers, back when the news of your marriage first started dominating the headlines.”

  “I did tell you,” said Cordelia.

  I looked at her in surprise. “What?”

  “Last Thursday. We were having breakfast together on the roof of the Office, and I was reading the front page news while you were reading about some rugby match, and I told you the whole story, and you kept saying ‘mm-hmm’ over and over again. I knew you weren’t listening.”

  “I was!” I protested, on impulse.

  “Oh, really? Then why did it take you an eternity to figure out who had kidnapped me?”

  “Excuse me,” said Carilla, “is this conversation still about all the terrible things I’ve done, or have we switched to discussing your marital problems?”

  “We’re not married!” Cordelia and I said in unison.

  “Okay,” said Crispin, waving his arms in the air. “Never mind. Let’s wrap this up. Carilla, we’ve established what you did, but would you care to explain how you expected all this to play out? I’m guessing you knew the ruse with Yrsa wouldn’t keep us off your trail for long.”

  Carilla smiled. “That was a risk, yes. But the diversion gave me time to prepare for your arrival.” She motioned to the dog-men surrounding us. “Now I can simply kill you all and escape with Gregory to some nice, quiet island somewhere.”

  “And what about Talesend?” I demanded. “Is this magic going to keep spreading?”

  “I suppose. I don’t know what the long-term effects of the spell will be. It might stretch across the whole of the Afterlands in the end.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” cried Cordelia. “You can’t change all the men in the Afterlands into dogs!”

  Carilla made a dismissive gesture. “Oh, why not? I mean, be honest.” She curled her lip. “Don’t you just loathe men?”

  Cordelia thought about this for a moment. “No, actually. On the whole, I’m quite fond of them—with a few exceptions, of course.”

  I grinned at her. “Thanks.”

  “You’re one of the exceptions. I haven’t forgotten about you mistaking a dog for me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Ha!” Carilla sneered. “Fond of them, are you? The typical reaction of a weak, oppressed female!”

  Cordelia’s eyes flashed. “I’ll oppress you in a minute, you overdressed harpy.” Runes flickered at her fingertips.

  “How dare you speak to me like that?” Rilla stamped her high-heeled foot. “I’m Carilla Duville!”

  “No, you’re not!” Crispin protested. “You didn’t marry poor Gregory, so you’re still Carilla Blenkinsop!”

  “I deserve his name!” she shouted. “I deserve everything he has! His house, his wealth—all of it shall be mine! And if he dares to object, I’ll make him live in the kennels!”

  Gregory flattened his ears against his head and whimpered.

  “But first, I’ll deal with you.” Carilla whistled to one of the dog-men. “Horatio, would you mind?”

  Horatio, an ugly, hyena-headed brute, grabbed Cordelia’s arms and pinned them behind her back before she could fire off a spell.

  “Get your paws off her!” I shouted, just as five of the creatures piled on top of me and wrestled me to the ground. There wasn’t much they could do to damage me, given the resilience afforded me by my curse, but they did succeed in keeping me immobile.

  “Watch it,” Crispin warned, as several dog-men approached him. “I’ve got powers you probably don’t want to mess with.” White lightning crackled around his hands, and he shifted into his White Rabbit form.

  “Crispin,” I grunted, trying in vain to get free from the monsters’ grip, “be careful!”

  “Nick, with all due respect, shut it.” He looked at Carilla, as the dog-men continued to circle him warily. “You’re the source of this spell, right?”

  Carilla laughed. “Yes, but don’t bother threatening to kill me, Rabbit Man. I can already tell you haven’t got the stomach for it.” She began conjuring runes for a spell, which grew into a swirling cloud of intricate patterns. She poised her hands so that the orb of magic was aimed at Cordelia. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I haven’t transformed you yet. It’s taken me a while to make up my mind. I really don’t see you as a dog. I have something more…traditional in mind. And far more satisfying.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I growled.

  Crispin remained calm. “I wasn’t actually planning to kill you. I don’t have to.”

  Carilla frowned at him in confusion. “What?”

  “All I have to do is cut you off from all this magic you’ve splattered across the city,” said Crispin. “Remove the source of the spell, and send it elsewhere.” His eyes glowed white as the lightning danced up and down his arms. “Or should I say, elsewhen.”

  Fear clutched at my heart. I knew what he was about to do…and I remembered what had happened the last time he’d done it.

  “Crispin, don’t!” I cried.

  It was too late. Just as Carilla was about to fire the spell at Cordelia, a vortex of white light opened up beneath her, and she fell through with a furious scream. Gregory bounded out of the way in the nick of time, yelping in surprise.

  “I say,” he said, “what was…” Then his ears perked up as he realized that he’d spoken in a human voice.

  I sprang into action to save Gregory from embarrassment. The dog-men had let me go the instant their boss had vanished, so I pulled off my coat and threw it around Gregory’s increasingly human shoulders. This spell hadn’t taken away anyone’s clothing, so it wasn’t going to magically bring it back, either.

  Gregory sneezed as his muzzle receded and his nose took on its original shape and position. He started to reach up with his left foot to scratch his head, then thought better of it and used his restored hand instead. He still had a short beard and mustache that was vaguely reminiscent of his canine self’s face, but it was blond now rather than grey.

  Actually, I had to admit, he’d been a little better-looking as a dog. I decided not to mention it, though. He sat with my coat wrapped around him and a dazed expression on his face.

  “Where’d she go?” Cordelia pulled away from the dog-men, who were looking more like ordinary men in torn clothes every second. She looked down at the floor where the rabbit hole had appeared. All trace of it, and Carilla, was gone.

  “Another time,” said Crispin. “Another place.”

  The odd timbre of his voice made me look sharply at him. He was in his human shape once more, but his eyes were still glowing white. His expression was eerily blank aside from a tiny smile on his lips.

  “Crispin?” I said, uncertainly.

  A grin tugg
ed at the corners of his mouth. “Not quite.” He tilted his head to one side. “You haven’t told him yet, have you? About his future? About me?”

  Rage coursed through me, and I lunged forward.

  “Nick, don’t!” Cordelia threw herself in front of me. “Who are you?” she demanded of the thing wearing Crispin’s face. “What are you?”

  He chuckled. “Something you can’t stop, little insects. No matter how hard you try. Time’s been tangled around you in a nice little knot. No way to get out. No way to escape the spider’s web.” His cackling grew louder, echoing through the ballroom.

  “Leave him alone,” I hissed, barely restraining myself.

  He spread his arms theatrically. “A ballroom. Isn’t that fitting? The three of us, in a ballroom.” He sprang forward and grabbed a handful of fur on either side of my face, his grin stretched so wide that I could see every single one of his teeth. “Don’t you see? Shut the book, burn the book, it doesn’t matter, it all comes back. All those chapters you thought you’d rewritten!”

  Cordelia summoned a cloud of runes. “That’s enough!” she warned.

  “No, Cordelia!” I struggled to detach the creature. “You’ll hurt Crispin.”

  “Round and round we go!” he cackled, distorting Crispin’s familiar voice into an inhuman mockery. “How doth the little crocodile devour his shining tail!”

  I shoved him away with all my strength. His hands ripped out strands of my mane as they tore free. “Who are you?” I roared.

  The White King let out a shriek of laughter. “I! AM! MADNESS!” he crowed at the top of his lungs.

  Acting on pure instinct, I punched him squarely in the jaw. His eyes went shut, extinguishing that horrible light, and he slumped to the floor.

  “Nick!” exclaimed Cordelia.

  “It’s okay.” I rushed to his side. My senses honed in on his every breath, every heartbeat. “He’s okay. He’ll be fine.”

  “He’s not remotely fine, Nick! He’s not even…”

  Crispin’s eyes fluttered open. They no longer glowed. “What happened?” he asked, in a weak voice, then grimaced and massaged his jaw. “Did somebody hit me?”

  “One of the dog-men,” I supplied, almost without thinking.

  “Er,” said Gregory, “I’m not really sure what all that was about, but…can I go home now?”

  “You are home,” Cordelia pointed out.

  Gregory looked around and shivered. “I think I’m going to move.”

  Chapter 14

  A Parting of the Ways

  “No.”

  “Nick,” Cordelia pleaded, “we have to.”

  “No!” I jumped up from my desk and looked out the window of my office. Night was falling, and the streets below were draped in silvery fog. Which, fortunately, wasn’t turning anybody into anything. We had retrieved a very confused but fully human Inspector Oswalt from Warrengate after it was all over. He, like everyone else in Talesend, seemed of the opinion that pretending this very strange day had never happened was the best policy.

  “We can’t go on like this,” said Cordelia. “Not after…all of that. He needs to know the whole truth, and so does Molly. We owe it to them.”

  “Cordelia, don’t you understand?” I rammed my fingers through my mane. “Telling them will make it all more real. Giving them knowledge of that timeline will only bring it closer to them. And I never, ever want it to happen.”

  “Neither do I, but do you really think hiding everything we know about it is the best way to prevent it? You saw what happened. The White King nearly manifested anyway. And if it happened once, it’ll happen again. It’s better for Crispin to know what he’s dealing with. Then maybe we’ll have a chance of saving him, and Molly.”

  I closed my eyes. “Cordelia, I don’t want to burden him with that. He’s been through enough, even in this timeline.”

  She folded her arms and glared at me. “All right, then. What do you suggest? Because we can’t just keep bumbling along like this and expect the problem to go away.”

  “You’re right,” I acknowledged. “But I have a different plan in mind.”

  “I’ll bet it’s a rotten one.”

  “It’s the only thing I can think of.”

  The door to the office swung open, and Crispin stepped inside. His face was a bit pale, but otherwise he seemed all right—if somewhat confused.

  “Nick?” he said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” said Cordelia.

  “No.” Crispin shook his head. “There’s no need. Please, stay.”

  “Are you feeling okay?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. My jaw’s a little sore from that punch. And I—I’m having trouble remembering exactly what happened.” He rubbed his temples. “I remember deciding that I needed to send Carilla away to break the spell—but I don’t remember where I sent her.”

  “It’s not really important, is it?” I patted him on the arm. “You got rid of her. You did well.”

  “I’d still like to know what I did,” said Crispin. “After all, I must have zapped her awfully far away for her magic to have stopped like that. Do you suppose I—”

  “Crispin,” I interrupted. “I need to tell you something.”

  He looked at me hopefully, and I knew what he was thinking. He probably assumed I was going to finally tell him everything he had been trying to pry out of me for months.

  I was about to disappoint him.

  “I want you to take a break from Beaumont and Beasley,” I told him.

  His jaw dropped. “What?”

  “I don’t want you helping with investigations. At least for the time being. You need a vacation.”

  “I was right,” Cordelia muttered. “It is a rotten idea.”

  “Er…no,” said Crispin. “Not going to happen. I’m not sure what brought this on, but I’ve been back to work the next day after a lot worse than a punch in the face. No need for an indefinite sabbatical.”

  “I think there is. And I insist on it.”

  He stared at me in disbelief. “Nick, I know you threatened me with your claws and so forth earlier when I said you couldn’t tell me what to do, but the truth is…you really can’t.”

  “Except that I’m your boss, and so I actually can.”

  “This is ridiculous!” he spluttered. “It’s about my powers again, isn’t it? Now you don’t want me using them at all?”

  “I think,” I said guardedly, “that perhaps time away from the…stressful situations we experience in the course of this job might be good for you.”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me about this afternoon?” he demanded. Then he gave himself a theatrical smack on the forehead. “Oh, wait, of course there is. Just like whatever happened at the Palace of Basile. More secrets, every day. That’s lovely. I suppose you’re actually the one who punched me!”

  “Crispin—”

  “No!” He held up his hand. “Don’t, Nick. I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses. You want me to stop working here? Fine. I will. I’ll leave.”

  “You don’t have to leave completely,” I said, trying to calm him down. “I just want you to take some time off from cases; that’s all.”

  “Whatever,” he snapped. “Unless you’re planning to finally tell me the truth, don’t bother speaking to me.”

  I reached out to touch his arm. “Crispin, hold on—”

  He jerked away from me. “It really did feel like old times, didn’t it, Nick? While it lasted.”

  Without another word, he marched out the door and slammed it behind him.

  “Well,” said Cordelia, “you handled that flawlessly.”

  “You weren’t much help,” I grumbled.

  “What did you expect me to do? Help you lie?” She sat down on my desk. “I never said I’d do that, Nick. All I agreed to do was not tell Crispin or Molly about Basile…and I’m starting to regret that decision.”

  I looked a
t her with concern. “Cordelia, please, don’t tell them.”

  “Or what? You’ll fire me too?”

  “I didn’t fire him!”

  “Well, whatever you did, I have a feeling you may have made this situation far worse. And it was pretty bad to begin with, so that’s saying something.”

  “I’ll work it out,” I assured her, with more confidence than I felt. “I’ll give Crispin a chance to cool down, and then I’ll talk to him; smooth things over. It’ll be fine.”

  “No, Nick,” said Cordelia sternly. “It won’t be fine. Not if you keep lying.” She stood up and walked slowly to the door. Just as she was about to open it, she turned and said, “I’ll give you three days, Nick.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “You have three days to tell Crispin and Molly the truth. I think it’s better if it comes from you, at least in Crispin’s case. But if you haven’t done it by then, I’m going to tell them.”

  I hurried after her. “But—”

  “No.” She raised a hand to silence me. “Stop. No more excuses, and no more secrets. Unless you want me to leave, too.”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then you’ll tell them?”

  “Yes.” I barely got the word out. “I have no idea how I’ll even start, but yes, I’ll tell them.”

  “I hope so,” said Cordelia softly.

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “I wish I could.”

  Before I could say any more, she slipped out and shut the door behind her.

  I ground my fangs and bounded to the window, leaping out into the misty night. A few quick leaps along the wall brought me to the roof, where I perched on the edge and gazed down at the vague outlines of cars and people streaming through the fog.

  The sorry state of all my relationships at present was my own fault, of course. Deep down, I knew that. But I chose to ignore it and blame Carilla Duville—Blenkinsop, whatever—instead. After all, things were going fairly well until she cast her ridiculous curse and raked up all these problems. And the White King’s brief appearance was most definitely her fault. Yes, Cordelia probably would have argued that perhaps Crispin could have prevented it if he’d known to watch out for it, but she was wrong. I was certain of that.