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

Jail Break

The key eluding her, Bagsy folded her arms and puzzled at where it could be. Her eyes found themselves landing on the flaming book chained to the shelf. The chains had a lock bolting them in place and, with a squint, Bagsy thought she could make something out in the lock. Hurrying over, she poked at the lock and found that, yes, there was a key inserted in there. Careful not to lodge it in place, she pried the key from the lock. Her heart rose in hope as she returned to the cabinet and tried to open it. When the lock sung a happy click, announcing its relinquishment of the cabinet's secrets, Bagsy fist bumped the air. 'Yes!' she whispered to herself, reaching inside, burning curiosity driving her hands as they pulled scrolls and books out. She didn't see anything that looked like a map and, with her elation deflating, she placed the last piece of paper back inside, defeated.

Except, as she tried to put the scroll in the lower shelf of the cabinet, she found it resisting. 'That's odd,' Bagsy murmured, with a furrowing of her brow. She crouched down, resting her weight on her arms as she inspected what could be blocking the scroll. The space had appeared tall enough, yet it refused to fit.

Something was fastened to bottom side of the shelf within the cabinet, out of sight. It was thin, but thick enough to get in the way of the scroll. Reaching in, Bagsy tried to move it. It wouldn't budge. Wondering what it was, Bagsy flipped over onto her back and wriggled her head into the cabinet and looked up at the thing which, in the darkness of the space, seemed to be a picture frame.

With a sound of consideration, Bagsy crawled back out and stood up, heading to her room to grab her muggle torch. Returning, she wriggled her way back into position, feeling like one of the worms she had been hoping to communicate with, and looked up. With a click, she turned her flickering muggle torch on, and pointed the beam at the picture.

Startling at what she saw, the torch slipped from her numb fingers and fell onto her nose. With a squeal of pain, Bagsy's hands flung to her nose, clutching it tightly. It didn't feel broken, and it wasn't bleeding, but the torch had a fair amount of weight and it certainly hadn't felt pleasant. Picking the flashing torch back up, she redirected its light onto the picture again, holding her nose with her other hand. Her own face was staring back at her, looking dour and bored. The photo was what she would describe as old-timey. She was looking at herself wearing Victoria clothing, with a Victorian hairstyle, and a Victorian London street displayed behind. She kept looking at the picture, wondering if the flickering torch light was playing tricks on her, but the longer she inspected it the more certain she was that it was herself in a Victorian setting. The issue was, Bagsy couldn't remember having her photo taken in such a way, something she reckoned would be very memorable.

An indignant hoot broke Bagsy from her perplexed staring and, in her sudden movement, she banged her head on the shelf above her. Rubbing her sore head and nose, muttering 'ows' to herself, she moved out of the cabinet and looked at Mezrielda's mammoth eagle owl, who was perched on Bontie's wooden chair and staring down at her with ominous eyes. The hungry glint had returned and, sprawled on the floor, having previously been hidden in a small, dark space, the feeling of being a mouse hunted by Crimson had never been stronger.

'Hi, Crimson,' she greeted him with a wary look as she closed and locked the cabinet, returning the key to the flaming book. Crimson huffily tossed a message to the floor at Bagsy's feet and fluffed up his feathers, clacking his beak as if he were starving. 'I'll get you some treats,' Bagsy wisely decided as she collected the letter from the floor. Crimson hooted in agreement, taking to the wing and following after her like a dark phantom, filling the corridor with looming shadows. Feeling as though she were being chased, Bagsy quickly procured some owl treats and gave Crimson as many as he wanted.

Eldritch looked at her accusingly.

She said to him, trying to sound reasonable, 'If you grew to the size of a bear and threatened to eat me you'd get just as many.' Eldritch didn't looked pleased, but he was so fluffy, round and cute that it was more cute than intimidating. Turning back to Crimson, who was feverishly devouring the treats, tearing them apart and dragging his talons over them as if they were live pray, was so starkly different from her own owl Bagsy was worried she'd get whiplash.