Bagsy Beetlehorn and the Vampire Affairs (The Bagsy Chronicles 4)

To Spite Your Face

A man was huddled over a small cauldron on the floor that was boiling a tasty looking stew. Tod's mouth involuntarily watered. He reminded himself that once his chore was complete he would have earned his supper. Food was one memory trick, and one short boat ride, away.

'Are you Bromley McMartyat?' Tod asked.

The man, who was pale, skin and bone with jutting cheekbones, looked up blankly. After a pause, he nodded, mouth hanging open.

Tod sneered at the lack of manners the man clearly held. 'Were you in the class of Perdita Jewel?' Tod pressed. It was better to perform his chores swiftly. Plus, the sooner this was done, the sooner he could get home to a nice roast dinner.

'Yes.' Bromley nodded, narrowing his eyes. 'What do you know 'bout Perdita? Everyone's seems to 'ave forgotten 'bout 'er. I went on one blummin' 'oliday and when I got back no one remembered her.'

Cold invaded the air around Tod as he pushed his power into his words, his heartbeat increasing as energy drained from his fingertips and toes to his tongue. It buzzed as if his mouth was filled with popping pumpkin flakes. 'You never met Perdita Jewel,' Tod announced, unleashing his power. At the misted colour entering the pale man's eyes, Tod felt a thrill of excitement. There was nothing this man could do – he was helpless, and he'd have no clue what had happened once it was done.

'I never met Perdita Jewel,' the man slurred.

Tod refrained from rolling his eyes. Sometimes, his targets droned back his instructions. He wasn't sure if it was because those victims were particularly dense, or some random fluke of his power. 'You have no clue who she is,' Tod continued. 'Today, you woke up, went about your life, and found nothing out of the ordinary. No boy visited you.'

The man nodded, repeating Tod's new truths with a monotone drawl. Satisfied, Tod pulled his power back, spreading it evenly around his body, allowing the air around him to warm once more. With a sweep of his robes, Tod turned and marched from the hut, swiping in annoyance at a fly that had started to bother him. 'Disgusting,' he muttered to himself, casting a disdainful look at the village as he hopped back onto his boat and set it into the river. 'Not worth a deep passage link, if you ask me,' he grumbled to himself. Underlakes were difficult things to create. Linking the deep passages to such a small, tasteless village seemed a waste to Tod. There were far more respectable locations to choose.

The boat set off swiftly, dropping efficiently into the underlake and moving gracefully back towards the gated community of Liberality.

As Tod was nearing the end of his journey and was wondering whether he should have caramelised bananas with flaming-ice cream or a rainbow tiramisu for pudding, he caught a tall figure waiting in the darkness. Whoever they were, they were trying to blend in with the black cave walls.

Tod's body froze at the sight, his hand gripping the rudder of the boat tightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but it just hung wide in dread. Tod always froze up when something bad was happening. He didn't choose to – it just happened on instinct.

The figure kicked off the wall and walked quickly through the ankle-deep water to him, their face shrouded in shadows, their shoes kicking up spray as they progressed. They were tall, taller than Tod, and lithe, too.

The idea of reaching for his wand had barely entered Tod's terror-stalled mind before the figure had drawn their own. With a merciless slash, Tod felt a hot sting fill his mouth. It was the worst agony he'd experienced, and he fell against the side of the boat, unable to hold his own weight in the thrashing pain enveloping his mind. The rocking caused by his sudden collapse nearly capsized the vessel but, thankfully, it remained upright.

Less thankfully, in fact quite horribly, he realised a warm liquid that stank of iron was filling his mouth and drooling unstoppably down his chin.

His mind finally kicking in, he grabbed the boat's rudder and set it going, more fiercely this time, away from the dark figure. He looked over his shoulder as he fled, but whoever it had been had vanished. Had he imagined them? No, he couldn't have, his mouth still felt like it was on fire, as if someone was sawing a cheese grater over the entirety of his lower mouth and throat.

With a surge, the boat resurfaced, and Tod flung himself from the vessel and onto the shore. Only, he'd come up through the wrong link; he was in the Vinski's garden, who also lived in the gated community of Liberality, and it was their pond he was crawling pitifully out of.

Tod spluttered and coughed and gasped and more liquid, that he could now see was red, was gushing from his mouth. It was slowly dawning on him, as he tried to move it, that his tongue was missing. Hands clasping at his throat and mouth, he let out a guttural groan, his eyes squeezing shut as he rolled onto his side and hunched in on himself.

'Well, well, well,' a cold voice tutted. 'Looks like we have a bit of a problem here, doesn't it? Please, try to cough your blood into the water and not onto our grass – we just had the scythe rabbits mow it.' Primrose Vinski, the half-scaled Hufflepuff, put the book she was reading down and stared at him contemptuously from the lounger she was reclined in as she basked in the sun. She seemed entirely unphased by Tod's sudden and unannounced appearance, as if boys who'd just had their tongues cut out showed up in her back garden every day.

'Eeeeellll...' Tod moaned, trying to ask for help but unable to form any words.

'I'm sorry, what was that?' Primrose asked, picking her book back up and turning a page. 'Rose might be about to become a vampire, so I'll need something worth my time if you want me to stop reading my book.'

Tod made another noise, but his mind was running blank. He knew he needed help, but everything had happened so quickly and he was too stunned to know what to do. He rolled onto his back, his spine arching in pain and his limbs thrashing in the water. When he found himself choking on his own blood, he turned onto his hands and knees, spitting it out.

'Really,' Primrose sighed. 'I told you to leave the grass alone.' Slamming her book down, Primrose got to her feet, taking off her sunglasses and walking, hands on hips, over to him. 'Come on, I'm sure your parents will know what to do,' Primrose reasoned, fastening her arms below his armpits.

'Oooo!' Tod protested as Primrose lifted him to his feet, traying to say no and shaking his head fearfully. If his parents saw he'd lost his tongue, no amount of luck in the world could help him.

'No?' Primrose checked. 'Hmm. Well, I'm not taking you to St Mungo's, I want to finish my book. Is there anyone else who could deal with this for me?'

Tod frowned, eyes darting back and forth as he thought. He stiffened as a name came to mind.

Primrose groaned. 'Don't tell me,' she muttered. 'I know exactly who you're going to say.'