Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The room is dark save for the flicker of candlelight. Dusty tomes occupy the bookshelves, thick spines illuminated in the soft glow. The roar of thunder is accompanied by the pattering of raindrops.

“The time has come.”

Phil looks up from where he pours a stream of tea into the china cup. He gives his friend a strange look. “I don’t understand why you always have to speak like that.”

His friend shuts his book, placing it on the desk with utmost care, glaring at Phil. “Is it really a great bother to you if you could stop interrupting my grandiose speeches for once?”

Phil cackles. “Your speeches are hardly grandiose, mate. Now, where are we headed?”

“Wherever the Azran Legacy takes us. The Golden Garden will be ours, Phil.”

Phil whistles. “I’ll go get the ship.”

He saunters off towards the hangar, leaving his friend alone, staring out the window. The strike of lightning casts a brilliant spark in the night sky. The man grins.

His magical encounter awaits with the man chosen by fate.

*

“Sleeping in your office again?”

Wilbur barely has time to blink before a bundle of cloth smacks his face. He splutters, rising from the couch as the resident cleaner, Rosa, begins to mop the floor.

“The sofa isn’t good for your back, Soot. Haven’t you rented a room in the dormitories?”

Wilbur rubs at his eyes. God. He just sank into slumber when the sun rose. It is now high in the sky, scorching the bustling streets of London.

“Here.” Rosa hands him an envelope. A plain, white specimen, a stamp residing in its corner. He squints at the scribbled address on its pristine surface. Gressenheller University, Professor Wilbur Soot, alright.

“I wonder who it could be,” Rosa says. Her mop follows a rhythmic motion as she scrubs the floor. “An acquaintance of yours?”

“Perhaps.” Wilbur tears the envelope open. Who could it be indeed? Wilbur does not have many friends that would send him letters. It is now the age of emails and text messages.

Dear Wilbur,

Hello, my dear old friend. I must
earnestly seek your help again. Our
little town is in the most extraordinary
predicament. At night, a mysterious giant
shrouded in fog has been laying waste to
our homes. I am convinced you can help
stop this madness. Please come soon!

Regards,

Clark

Clark! Wilbur knows that man. He was one of Wilbur’s closer friends when he was studying for his Masters. The last Wilbur heard of him is when Clark, his wife and son moved to a quaint town not far from London – famed for the thick swathes of mist – Misthallery.

As much as Wilbur would like to see his old friend, the contents of the letter are concerning. What has Clark encountered that drove him to communicate his desperation in such a…discreet manner?

In any case, the humdrum of boring city life is getting unbearable. This case can provide a good distraction from grading those papers. The last time he went on an adventure was…

No.

He should not think of that now. What matters that an adventure awaits him, and Wilbur is not one to put off such exciting prospects. He leaps to his feet, throwing on his tan coat and grabbing his briefcase.

“Where are you headed?” Rosa asks. “And stop stepping where I’ve mopped!”

“Apologies.” Wilbur says, not sounding very apologetic at all. He packs his bare essentials – wallet, phone, some papers to mark, a pen or two, a water bottle…

“Are you headed out? You should, you know,” Rosa harrumphs as she pointedly mops the spot where Wilbur had trampled all over.  “Get some fresh air now and then. Works wonders for the cluttered mind.”

“Thank you, Rosa,” Wilbur says curtly. “I must get going. I will see you…in a couple of days, perhaps.”

“At least I will be certain that this office will remain clean for the next couple of days,” Rosa huffs. She waves as Wilbur leaves, the latter bounding down the stairs two at a time. Hopping into his trusty maroon car, he sticks the key in the ignition and revving the engine. As soon as he steps on the accelerator, the car speeds out onto the city streets.

*

There he is.

Puffy stuffs her binoculars into the deep pockets of her coat. She starts her motorcycle, its bellow thunderous as she swerves out of the alleyway and onto the main road.

She has only one target in mind: the ancient vehicle battling for dominance on the road with the rest of the scary trucks and lorries. She speeds up, skirting the pavement and almost colliding with an ice cream van. Puffy bites her lip as she gains on him.

Almost there…almost…

Puffy can see her face reflected in Wilbur Soot’s sideview mirror, looking as gorgeous as ever. A final burst of speed allows her the chance to overtake him, cutting directly into Wilbur’s lane. The screech of tyres and the blare of horns is no alarm to her as Puffy veers, stopping the motorcycle right in front of Wilbur’s car.

Puffy removes her helmet, tucking it under her arm as Wilbur steps out of his vehicle.

“What in the world was that stunt?” Wilbur snaps. “Are you-”

“Nice to meet you too,” Puffy says nonchalantly. “The name’s Puffy.”

“Puffy? What kind of name is Puffy?”

“A cute one. Beautiful, like me.” She laughs as Wilbur rolls his eyes.

“And who the hell are you?” Wilbur asks. “Pardon my language, but you did just nearly crash my car.”

“Fair enough.” Puffy nods. She extends a hand, which Wilbur stares at it suspiciously. She frowns, withdrawing it. “I’m Puffy, your new assistant. Dean Delmona hired me to help you with your mountains of paperwork.”

“My paperwork? I’m doing fine, thank you very much,” Wilbur says, huffing. A car’s horn resounds rudely from behind them. He sighs, gesturing to the passenger’s seat. “Get in.”

Puffy beams. She and Wilbur strap her motorcycle to the top of his car with a length of spare rope he has lying in the car’s boot. As soon as they clamber in, Wilbur starts the stalled engine and the car continues along the road.

“Starting from today, I’m your new assistant,” Puffy says repeats. “Nice to meet you again.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Wilbur says tonelessly.

“So, where are we headed? We seem to be heading out of London.”

“Misthallery.”

“Whatever for?”

“To meet an old friend.” Wilbur reaches for his coat pocket clumsily, retrieving an envelope and handing it over to her. Puffy inspects it, noting the jagged edges where it has been torn. “That should give you the information you need.”

“Should I be reading your mail?”

“As my assistant, that’s going to be a part of your duties now,” Wilbur says, keeping his eyes on the road. “Now, I’d like you to figure out the hidden message behind this letter.”

“Ooh. Is this a test?”

Wilbur hums.

They leave the familiar streets of London behind them. Puffy squints at the letter. She is going to prove that she is suitable for the job by solving this puzzle.

After all, what better way to get Wilbur to trust her than by engaging in the man’s favourite hobby of all time?

<Puzzle: A Secret Message>

The contents of the letter goes as follows:

Dear Professor Soot,

Hello, my dear old friend. I must
earnestly seek your help again. Our
little town is in the most extraordinary
predicament. At night, a mysterious giant
shrouded in fog has been laying waste to
our homes. I am convinced you can help
stop this madness. Please come soon!

Regards,

Clark

As Wilbur mentioned, there must be a trick to this puzzle. Is it from the way it is worded? Puffy furrows her brow. Well, what more is there to this letter than the destruction of a village?

A giant shrouded in fog?

Laying waste to their homes?

It takes her no less than ten minutes before she finally sees the answer.

“It says ‘Help, SOS.’”

Wilbur sneers. “Took you long enough.”

Puffy huffs. The man needs to learn to take a chill pill. The car follows a roundabout, leaving it at the third exit, headed for a town in the distance.

Puffy grins as she leans against the window. There is never a dull moment with Wilbur Soot, someone told her. Although she was initially sceptical of the claim, there may be a hint of truth to that statement after all.

Chapter Text

Wilbur pulls up to the gates of Misthallery, next to a guardhouse. The guardhouse sits beside a shallow chasm, the waters of a wide canal rippling beneath a drawbridge. This appears to be their only way across.

“Halt. Who goes there?”

Puffy jumps. A woman waves to them from the tiny window of the guardhouse, dressed in uniform. She blows a bubble as pink as her hair.

“State your business.”

“Wilbur Soot, from London. I’ve come at the request of the mayor.”

“And I’m Puffy, the Professor’s assistant.”

The woman jots their particulars down on a sheet of paper, before typing away on her computer. She turns back to them.

“Wilbur Soot and Puffy.” She fixes them with a bored gaze. “Alright then, you’re going to have to solve a puzzle before you can proceed.”

“A puzzle?” Puffy asks. “What do puzzles have to do with this?”

“Jakes’ new policy. Visitors of Misthallery need to solve a puzzle before they can enter,” the officer says. “Are you going to do it?”

“If we have to,” Wilbur says.

<Puzzle: How Old?>

“So you received a letter from a friend, telling you about the ages of her three children:

‘Our baby girl Nat was born in March last year. If you multiply her age by those of her older sister and brother Kat and Pat, the product is 36. Adding all their ages gives a sum of 13. Everyone’s happy and healthy!’

Given that the letter was written on the 25^th of April, what are the ages of her three children?”

Silence blankets them, broken only periodically by the flowing of water by the canal. Puffy can hardly wrap her head around the problem, jolting when Wilbur pipes up with the answer.

“Kat and Pat are twins: they’re six years each, and Nat is one.”

The woman nods, chewing on her gum. She speaks into her radio and within minutes, the drawbridge is lowered. Puffy marvels at the vastness of the town and its country charm. It is rare that she comes to such places, filled with lively residents and a lovely atmosphere. Travelling down the stone path really does whisk her away to a medieval fantasy.

“Where does your friend stay, Professor?”

Wilbur shrugs. Has he never driven over to visit before?

Lost in thought, Puffy nearly bumps into Wilbur, who halted in the middle of the street. About to admonish him for his terrible habits – who in the world stands stock still in the middle of a street? – Puffy peers over his shoulder, wondering just what he has encountered.

She gasps, sidestepping Wilbur to observe the mess. While one side of the street remains undamaged, the structures on the other have been marred with distinct gashes. Rubble lies along the street, forgotten remnants of what were once people’s abodes, amongst larger chunks of concrete and smashed bricks.

“What happened here?” Puffy stares, slack-jawed.

“The witch’s curse, that’s what!”

A boy saunters up to them, his hands behind his head, sneakers squeaking against the floor. He eyes them with a sort of twisted grin.

“See that mark?” the boy says, gesturing at a strange symbol on a blue plank with a knob. The rest of the door is missing, but the plank is wide enough to depict the entirety of the symbol. “If you speak ill of the witch, she will destroy your bloody house.”

“You believe this destruction was caused by the witch?” Wilbur asks.

“Well, it only makes sense,” the boy says, his mischievous expression unfaltering. “You get the witch’s mark, she takes down your house, walls and all. Wish I could say it’s balderdash.”

“I see,” Wilbur says, scratching his chin. “Could you point us in the direction of Clark Innit’s house?”

“The mayor?” The boy stabs a finger at a hill a stone’s throw away, a lone manor sitting at its apex amongst the greenery. “He lives all the way over there.”

Wilbur thanks him, and he and Puffy traverse the rocky paths to a cliff, two bridges of rope strung over the massive ravine. There is no coming back if they fall. Stabbed into the ground between the two bridges is a tattered signpost. Market on the left, main town on the right.

The gales rushing past does not help with her nerves as Puffy crosses the rickety bridge. The planks sway beneath her feet, a sense of weightlessness seeping into her, as if threatening to hurl her off. Puffy is glad to be back on solid ground when they reach the other end.

The town was impressive before, but Puffy never did expect to be this astounded. The settlement stretches for miles, past the jagged ridges, down the valleys. At a fair distance from the heart of the town is a lake, clouded entirely with mist. A mansion stands beside it, but with the thick swathes of mist, Puffy cannot quite make out its details.

“Where are you going? It’s this way.”

Puffy spins on her heels. Wilbur is already halfway down a street lined with shops, headed in the direction of Clark’s manor.

“Wait up!”

Puffy jogs after him, greeted by the breeze cascading from the peak of the hill. Water trickles down the canals flanking the path, pipes sprung up all along the water’s surface. Clark’s manor is situated past a small, winding creek. A path of flattened dirt, clovers and dandelions growing over imprints of tyres, leads them straight up to the house.

“Is this the Innit residence?”

Wilbur strides up to the door and raps his knuckles upon the wood. Puffy accompanies him, tugging at her jacket. The door opens and they are greeted by a man in a simple vest over a black button-down, the butler-y look accentuated by his crimson bowtie. He pushes his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

“How may I help you, good sir and madam?”

“We’re here to see Clark Innit,” Wilbur says. He retrieves his envelope. “He sent me a letter requesting my assistance. Is he here?”

“Of course.” The butler nods. “Do come on in.”

The Innits’ house is large yet cosy. A maid emerges from a room at the far end carrying a stack of bedsheets, bowing as they approach. The butler leads them over to a chamber at the end of a long, carpeted hallway.

The drawing room is spacious, a large window carved into the wall affording them a magnificent view of a bluff, the same bluff that they had seen earlier, with that mansion. The striped curtains framing the window lends a beautiful touch, complementing the striped blue-and-white wallpaper.

Puffy sits beside Wilbur on a couch near the fireplace, black grilles blending in with the remnants of charred wood. The couch is plush, the cushions even more so. However, Wilbur does not seem interested in it the décor at all. Instead, he turns to the butler, who is pouring them cups of tea.

“May I ask some questions about the town, sir?”

The butler hums. “Please, do address me as Roland. I’d be happy to answer your queries.”

Wilbur takes a sip from his cup, flinching slightly when he puts it to his lips. Puffy bites back a snigger. Steam rises from the cup like smoke from flames.

“I would like to ask about the tragedy that has befallen Misthallery,” Wilbur says.

“A tragedy?”

“As we made our way here, we noticed the ruins of a house by the plaza. A boy told us about the witch’s mark. Speaking ill of the witch warrants her revenge,” Wilbur says. “What is this about?”

Roland places the teapot back on the ornate tray.

“It is as the boy told you. There have been strange happenings throughout the village, the witch’s mark being one of them,” Roland says. “You see that mansion over there, by the lake?”

Puffy nods.

“Well, it is said that the girl who lives there practices witchcraft, and that she brings destruction upon those who dare oppose her.”

“It’s curious that she chooses to leave a mark,” Wilbur says.

Roland shakes his head. “No one knows why either, and the townspeople are too afraid of incurring her wrath to approach the mansion.”

Could this mansion and this witch have something to do with the giant monster terrorizing this town?

Just as Wilbur opens his mouth to ask another question, the door swings open, and a man walks in. He is dressed formally, in a suit and tie. Puffy is no expert on men’s dress codes, but she is quite certain that one does not simply wear suits in their own homes.

“Clark.” Wilbur stands to greet his friend. Puffy stands as well. Clark shakes their hands in turn.

“This is Puffy, my assistant,” Wilbur says. Clark nods, smile tight as he greets her with a “Nice to meet you.”

“Why the spontaneous visit, Wilbur?” Clark asks, settling down on the couch. “You don’t come around to Misthallery often.”

Wilbur raises a brow. “You didn’t write me this letter then, Clark?”

“A letter?” Clark furrows his brows. Wilbur hands him said letter. Clark reaches into the envelope and retrieves the piece of paper, unfolding it and scanning its contents. “No, I can’t say I wrote this.”

“Really now?” Wilbur mumbles, more to himself than anyone else. If Clark did not send it, then who did? “Could this be a prank, perhaps?”

Clark sighs, sliding the letter back to Wilbur across the table. “I’m not sure. Someone in town may be posing as me.” It does not help that the letter was typed.

“Still, the letter itself is very much accurate,” Clark continues. “There has been a creature attacking the houses at night, and they do so under the cover of fog.”

“Fog?” Puffy asks.

“The town gets rather foggy at night. So dense that you can hardly see your two feet in front of you sometimes.”

“I see.” Wilbur thumbs at his chin.

“Some say that the spectre of Misthallery is angry, and that it is exacting its revenge against the town,” Clark says despondently.

“The spectre of Misthallery?”

“It is a legend that has been passed down for generations in this town,” Clark says. “The spectre of Misthallery protected the town from threats in the past. How the legend goes is that the second we raise our hand against nature, the spectre would turn on the town and raze it to the ground.”

“I see.”

“But it’s just that, right? A legend?” Puffy says, gaze darting from Wilbur to Clark.

Clark sighs. “That is what I believed. Until now. I cannot turn my eyes from the havoc wrecked upon my town.”

Clark believes the spectre exists, and that it is executing its vengeance against Misthallery Puffy wonders what the townspeople have done to deserve such treatment.

“Was anyone hurt during the attack?” Wilbur asks.

“No, no one,” Clark says. “The people were evacuated before the spectre struck.”

“Evacuated?”

“Yes, by the order of the Oracle,” Clark says, sighing. “Apparently, the Oracle can tell when and where the spectre would appear next and warn the townspeople before it does.”

“Who is this Oracle?”

Clark pauses. The look in his eyes is one of defeat. “To tell you the truth, Wilbur, I have no idea.”

“What do you mean?” Puffy asks.

“No one knows who the Oracle is, which is strange in and of itself,” Clark says. “And yet, the Oracle is never wrong.”

“Never wrong!”

Wilbur says nothing.

“Yes, and it’s as baffling to me as it is to you,” Clark says, wringing his hands.

“Are Brenda and Tommy around?”

Clark presses his lips together in a thin line. “Brenda has left to see her family. Something urgent came up. As for Tommy…”

“Who’s Tommy?” Puffy asks.

“My son,” Clark says. His shoulders are hunched as he leans forward, voice dropping low. “Tommy has not emerged from his room for a while now, except to go to school.”

“He locked himself in, hmm?” Wilbur hums.

“Indeed.” Clark shakes his head. Worry is evident in his tone. “Tommy has refused to speak to me.”

“Could I try?” Wilbur asks.

Clark nods. “By all means. His room is upstairs. Come with me.”

Why is Wilbur so fascinated by the boy? Puffy feels a little intrusive, especially since they may be butting into the Innit family’s private affairs.

The banisters are shiny, Puffy notes, as they make their way up to the second floor. The corridor is longer than she expected. Clark’s office lies to the left, their bedroom on the right.

“That’s Tommy’s room,” Clark says, gesturing to the door at the very end of the hallway. The first thing that Puffy notices is that it is extremely cluttered. A tray of food is placed upon a trolley, a giant teddy bear sits against the door, and discarded cardboard boxes depicting various parts of a computer are stacked on the side.

“He’s not a very neat person, is he?” Puffy comments.

“That remains to be seen,” Wilbur says.

“I will be in my office,” Clark says. “I wish you luck on this endeavour.” He steps through the door to their left, disappearing behind it and leaving Wilbur and Puffy out here in the corridor.

He approaches the door, stepping over several plastic bags by the boxes and knocks on it.

“Tommy? Are you in there?”

Puffy joins Wilbur at the door.

“Who are you?” Tommy’s voice is sharp, higher-pitched than what Puffy had anticipated. Just how old is Clark Innit’s son? Quite young, she imagines.

“My name is Wilbur Soot, your father’s friend,” Wilbur says. “I would like to speak to you.”

“Then you’ll have to first pass my test.” Tommy’s voice is much louder now. He is probably moved to right behind that door.

“We’d be happy to.”

There is a thump on the other end, followed by Tommy’s voice. “You have to solve a puzzle.”

“I love a good puzzle.”

Puffy is not too sure about puzzles herself. The professor seems fond of them, but she would rather do a spot of martial arts. Another thump, and Tommy speaks once more.

<Puzzle Battle: vs Tommy Innit>

“There is one specific action you must do to open this door,” Tommy says. “And your job is to find out what it is. When you’re ready, knock on the door, and you’ll have thirty seconds to do your action. If you can’t figure it out, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Puffy glances over at the teddy bear, the cardboard boxes and the sheets of plastic.

“And how will you know if we have done that action?” Puffy asks.

“Trust me. I’ll know.”

Needless to say, Puffy is confused.

“But I must tell you that you can do nothing to solve this puzzle.”

Wilbur nods. “I understand.”

“I don’t get this at all, Wilbur,” Puffy says, inspecting the trolley holding a tray of food.

Wilbur does not respond. Instead, he walks up to the door and drums his knuckles upon it.

“Are you ready?” Tommy asks.

“Ready.”

“Your thirty seconds starts now.”

Puffy gapes, staring from Wilbur to the door. Wilbur does not lift a finger. Instead, he stands there, still, arms folded. What is he waiting for? If he had asked Tommy to start the countdown, that must mean he knows what to do, right?

“Puffy, don’t move,” Wilbur says, without even sparing her a glance. He keeps his eyes on the door. Puffy does as she is told, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket for what feels like an eternity.

“Three, two, one,” Tommy calls from within his room.

“We ran out of time, Wilbur!” Puffy cries. “What are you-”

Before she can continue, the door clicks, and swings open ever so slightly.

“Come in,” Tommy says, voice clearer now that the door is no longer in the way. Wilbur takes up the offer and steps in onto a woolly carpet. The room is as messy inside as it is outside. Action figurines, souvenirs from abroad, books and more are piled on the bookshelves, the tables, hanging on the wardrobe. A stack of clothes is thrown on the bed.

The window is open, a gentle breeze caressing their faces as they approach the boy with their back to them. He is dressed in a red-and-white raglan T-shirt and shorts, looking very much at ease unlike Clark.

“I thought you might want your letter back,” Wilbur says, retrieving the envelope from his pocket and holding it out to the boy. The boy turns. Puffy squints. He cannot be older than eleven. Surely not. More importantly, what does Wilbur mean by that?

Tommy turns around, mouth gaping. “How’d you…”

“Clearly, it wasn’t your father who wrote it,” Wilbur says, “and whoever wrote this must have intimate knowledge of your father’s contacts. Your mother isn’t around, so it could not have been her. That leaves you.”

Tommy huffs, snatching the envelope from Wilbur’s hand. Wilbur folds his arms.

“I think you owe us an explanation, Oracle.”

“Oracle?” Puffy stares from Wilbur to Tommy. “What do you mean?”

“The boy who stands before us, Tommy Innit, is the Oracle that Clark mentioned,” Wilbur says. “Isn’t that right, Tommy?”

Tommy glances away. “I…You really are clever, Mr Soot.”

Wilbur raises a brow. “I was merely guessing, but now I’m certain I’m right.”

Tommy sighs. He beckons them over to window, squinting at something in the distance.

“The spectre will appear tonight,” Tommy says. “And the world’s going to end.”

Wilbur looks disinterested. “A bold claim.”

“It’s true!” Tommy spins on his heels, expression hardened. “I reckon the spectre’s taking its revenge on the town.”

“That’s how the legend goes. But that is all it is. A legend.”

“You don’t believe me,” Tommy huffs. “Just like everyone else.”

Just then, Puffy hears footsteps and the rolling of wheels. She turns, noticing Roland standing at the door, the trolley of food pushed into the room.

“Roland, have you given the evacuation notice?” Tommy asks, gazing back out the window.

“Of course. Young master, perhaps you could have some lunch…”

“I’m not hungry.”

“But you’re a growing boy,” Puffy says, hands on her hips. “You should eat.”

Tommy shakes his head. “I had a heavy breakfast.” He turns to Wilbur. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Help you? With what? You seem rather convinced that you’ve got the legend figured out,” Wilbur says with a noncommittal shrug. “You guys pissed off the spectre of legend and now you’re on the receiving end of its wrath, as you rightly deserve.”

“Hey, Wilbur-” Puffy starts. That was way out of line.

“What did you say?” Tommy strides up to Wilbur with an icy glare. If not for the tension in the room, Puffy would have laughed at the sheer difference in height. Wilbur casts a stony gaze Tommy’s way, before turning on his heels and heading out the room without nary a word.

Oh man. Puffy can feel a migraine coming on.

“Alright! Fine! Help me figure out how to stop the spectre!”

Wilbur halts.

“Please,” Tommy bites out. The boy seems like a proudful youth; it must have taken so much courage to voice that request. Tommy’s head is dipped, shoulders loose.

“Come along then,” Wilbur says. He glances back at them, a self-serving smirk on his face. “We have quite a bit of investigation to do.”

“Young master, what about your father?” Roland asks.

Tommy ignores the question, grabbing his bag. Puffy makes after Wilbur, falling into stride beside him.

“You didn’t have to be so harsh on him!” she whispers.

“The boy was a brat. He never tasted hardship in his life,” Wilbur says. “He really expected me to bend to his whims like everyone else just because he summoned me to his estate.”

Puffy frowns. “Still…”

Just as Puffy descends the staircase, she bumps into the maid from earlier. The maid is absolutely flustered, her face shining with sweat with a sort of wild look in her eyes.

“Are you alright?” Puffy asks. “Do you need help?”

“Oh, it’s terrible!” the maid cries, sounding forlorn. “It’s just…there was this puzzle that I have to solve, you see. The young master posed it to me and I simply can’t…”

“We can help you!” Puffy says, puffing her chest out. “Don’t you worry.”

“You mean you can help her,” Wilbur says, standing off to the side. “Don’t worry. Take your time. I doubt Tommy would be ready anytime soon.”

Puffy was afraid he would say that. The maid peers up at her with those puppy eyes, and it is then that Puffy realises that she has dug her own grave.

Oh well. It should not be anything she cannot handle…

<Puzzle: Mopping Up>

“For a thirty-day month, we only have access to poor-quality mops. They are so terrible that they take two days to dry after the day they were used, and each mop breaks just after three uses! What is the minimum number of mops that we would need to clean every day for that month?”

That was a lot of information to take in at once. Thirty-day month. One mop breaks after two days. Only three uses…

“Wouldn’t you need twelve?” Puffy says, after much deliberation.

“Is it twelve?”

“If we count in increments of three, we’d be using three mops every nine days. Then on the final three days, you’ll need one mop for three days since each mop takes two days to dry.”

The maid claps her hands. “I see! Thank you so mu-”

Wilbur barks out a laughter. Puffy glances back, trying to rein her frustration in.

“You need ten,” Wilbur says, holding up a finger. “The trick is to be frugal with your fourth mop.”

By the time Wilbur has finished his explanation, he has left both Puffy and the maid in a state of both awe and confusion respectively. At the same time, Tommy pads down the staircase, hands on his backpack strap like a young schoolboy.

“What’s going on?” Tommy asks, glancing from Wilbur to Puffy to the maid.

“It’s nothing,” Wilbur says. “Come. We must be off.”

As if true to his word, that that his brilliance was nothing, Wilbur heads out of the house just like a muggle. Tommy furrows his brows but asks no questions and exits the house. Puffy bows in apology to the maid at her colleague’s brashness and makes after the duo.

“So, where are we going?” Tommy asks, trekking past the creek with Wilbur.

“I’d like to know where you think the spectre is going to strike next,” Wilbur says.

“You think the spectre really exists?” Puffy asks.

“I remain doubtful of it, but the destruction we saw earlier was certainly not a product of nature,” Wilbur says. “To proceed, I believe that we have to meet the spectre ourselves, to see what it really is.”

“So it’s not a real spectre,” Tommy says, almost dejectedly.

“No. It most definitely is not. Spectres don’t exist. What may exist, though, is something pretending to be the spectre of legend using the cover of fog.”

They return to the town square, quiet and devoid of people. A pond of lilies sits in its centre. The town’s peculiar series of pipes run through this part of the town as well, sticking their rusted bodies out of the canal.

“The spectre will strike at North Ely Street next,” Tommy says.

“Alright then. Take us there.”

“You’re being very demanding, big man.”

Wilbur bristles. “It’s my job to solve the mystery. Not to be nice.”

Puffy sighs.

Tommy takes them down the central street, passing under an archway covered in strips of green. Leaves and vines coil around its walls and any alcove it can find.

Tommy stops outside a grand building. “This is where the spectre will attack next.”

The building seems taller than that of the Innit estate, walls dotted with windows spaced apart at regular intervals. A tattered sign with the words “Hotel Ely” engraved hangs above the door. This place should really undergo some renovations.

“Good,” Puffy says. “Let’s book a room.”

“Whatever for?” Tommy asks.

“If the spectre is going to attack tonight, it’d be best if we stayed somewhere nearby.”

Wilbur walks over to the heavyset door, pushing it open. “My thoughts exactly.”

Chapter Text

The hotel’s lobby is cosy. Fire crackles in the hearth, a set of couches surrounding a short coffee table beside it. Several oil paintings hang on the walls. Odd knickknacks fill the various shelves. A small breakfast area lies further in, dainty tables visible from where they stand by the reception desk.

“One room for two, and a room for one,” Wilbur says.

The gruff man by the counter nods, pen scribbling on a piece of paper clipped to a board. “Whose name do I put it under?”

“Wilbur Soot.”

The man stuffs the clipboard aside. He walks over to the staircase, wooden steps creaking under his weight, beckoning them to follow. The trio head up to the second floor, the windows giving them an excellent view of the whole of Ely Street.

“This one’s the missy’s room,” the man says, gesturing to a door labelled “301”. He points to another room right beside it. “And this is yours and the lad’s.”

Puffy’s room is comfortably small. The bed is made, prim and proper, duvet tucked under the mattress. A tiny lamp stands on the bedside table by the window. Puffy spies the imposing mansion, looking closer than it had.

The bathroom is clean, and the shower looks rather inviting, but that bit of satisfaction will have to wait. A knock on the door startles Puffy from her thoughts. She answers the call, finding Tommy behind it.

“Wilbur wants to know if you’re ready.”

Puffy nods. “I’m always ready. Come on. Let’s go.”

Tommy narrows his eyes. “You talk to me like I’m a child.”

“Technically, you are one.”

“I’m eleven. I’m not a child anymore.”

Puffy laughs.

When Puffy and Tommy reach the base of the stairs, they find Wilbur engrossed in strange game with the receptionist. A row of glass bottles lines the coffee table.

“What’s this about?” Puffy asks.

“A game of sorts,” the receptionist says. Wilbur hums, removing two bottles from the row.

“I won’t take long,” Wilbur says, without looking up from the game.

Well, the game does not look interesting in the slightest. Puffy and Tommy find a spot in the lounge, deciding to kick back and relax for a bit.

“You and Wilbur are similar in some ways, I’ve got to say,” Puffy says, clucking her tongue.

“Really? He’s a bloody jerk, that’s what he is. And I’m no jerk.”

“I mean, you both like puzzles. I’m sure that counts for something.”

At the word, Tommy sits straighter. Just what is it with everyone and puzzles?

“Speaking of, you wanna hear one? I thought of it myself.”

The least Puffy can do is to entertain the boy. She can hardly say no to those sparkling puppy eyes.

<Puzzle: Faulty Streetlights>

“So you’re on a street, right? It’s lit by ten streetlights. At midnight, the lights are blown by a power surge and all the lights are replaced. The new bulbs are of shit quality, and one breaks every two hours. The repairman can only bring a replacement bulb every three hours. How many bulbs will still be lit after twelve hours?”

“Well…” Puffy bites her lip. She cannot be outdone by so young a boy! Despite his rough exterior, Tommy’s head really houses a sharp mind. If a bulb breaks every two hours, and the repairman has to bring a bulb every…

She pauses, noticing Tommy’s smirk. What is that supposed to mean? Is there something she’s missing?

“Wait a minute,” Puffy says, holding up a hand. It is probably time to re-evaluate the whole thing. “Is the answer zero?”

“And I thought you’d get caught in the trap,” Tommy mutters.

Puffy beams. One day, her intellect may even be on par with Wilbur’s if she keeps going at this steady pace.

“Are you two done?”

Wilbur stands by the door, hands tucked into his coat pockets. Puffy bristles. He is acting as if they were the ones who had taken their own sweet time. Puffy hops to her feet, opening her mouth to rebut, only to be met by thin air as Wilbur slips out the door.

The afternoon sun is waning. Evening is almost upon them.

“What are we doing till the spectre shows up?” Puffy asks.

“We need to get a general idea of the area,” Wilbur says, glancing down the streets that Hotel Ely sits in the middle of. “Tommy, could you bring us around Ely Street?”

Tommy nods. “This way.”

Great Ely Street is big. Not as big as a conventional street in a city, but it is big for a place like Misthallery. Most shops are closed, houses empty. The residents and shopkeepers must have had received the warning and evacuated the area.

“This is Paddy’s Place,” Tommy says, gesturing to a diner sitting by the archway they had passed by earlier. The faint aroma of bread wafts from within. “They have great lamb chops.”

Great Ely Street begins and terminates at the town square, essentially forming a loop, with their hotel erected at the furthest point. A few other roads branch out from the square: one snaking over the hills alongside a rushing canal, and one that leads towards a factory.

“Where do these go?” Wilbur asks, gesturing to the roads.

“That one goes to Highyard Arch,” Tommy says. “That’s where all the rich people stay at, and that one goes to the factory.”

“Am I to assume that Great Ely Street are populated by the poorer portion of the population?”

Tommy blinks. “Poorer portion…well, it’s more like the middle class. People who are really poor live in the slums at the market.”

“Have there been any attacks on residences at Highyard Arch recently?”

“Yeah, but there have been many attacks on houses at the plaza and the market too. You should have seen Ben’s house near the entrance.”

Wilbur nods.

“You think that it could be some kind of uprising?” Puffy asks.

“I considered it, but it is seeming more and more unlikely,” Wilbur says. Just then, Puffy hears a growl. A rumbly one. She turns towards the source, who crosses his arms and glares at her.

“Wilbur, did you hear that? The child’s hungry.”

Tommy clenches his fists petulantly. “I’m not a child!”

Puffy grins. “No matter how much you want to deny it, Tommy, you are a child.”

“Says the one without a brain.”

“What did you say?”

“Wait, where did Wilbur go?”

Puffy glances around. She and Tommy had been so caught up in their argument that she did not notice Wilbur’s disappearance. The swish of a tan coat out of the corner of her eye catches Puffy’s attention. Wilbur is already walking in the direction of Paddy’s Place. Perhaps, with the intent of securing dinner.

“That bastard,” Tommy mutters.

“A child shouldn’t be swearing, Tommy.”

Tommy mutters something unintelligible as he makes after Wilbur, with Puffy following behind. The trio enter Paddy’s Place, entering a world shrouded with the wonderful scent of minestrone. The owner of the place steps out from the kitchen, brushing sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm,

“Ah, Tommy!” The man smiles. “Where’s your father?”

“He’s busy.”

The man nods and regards Wilbur and Puffy. “Welcome to Paddy’s Place. How may I help you?”

“A table for three, please,” Puffy says.

They end up sitting by the window, tablecloth draped over their thighs. At Tommy’s recommendation, they each order a portion of lamb chop drizzled with mustard sauce and corn. Puffy glances out the window.

“Is it always this misty at night?” she asks.

Tommy nods. “As the sun goes down, the fog comes out.”

Wilbur says nothing.

The trio eats their meal in relative silence. Tommy is the first one to finish, having satisfied his voracious appetite with that sheer speed of consumption. The most sophisticated one, Puffy has to say, is Wilbur, who takes his time, eating with the air of the distinguished professor he is.

How is it possible that someone could have earned his PhD and made somewhat of a name for himself so early on in life? Wilbur Soot is truly a mysterious man.

“Why are you staring?” Wilbur says, casually sawing the piece of meat from the bone.

“I’m not!” Puffy says. “You’re just eating really slowly.”

“Perhaps you’d like something to do?” Wilbur says, without so much as a change in his tone.

“Puffy here told me that you’re a puzzle whizz, Wilbur,” Tommy says. “How would you like to try a puzzle I came up with?”

“If it’s not boring. The puzzles I’ve been seeing recently were extremely boring.”

Boring! Of course, they would be boring for someone who can conjure up such an elegant solution ever so quickly. It would be a miracle if Tommy can pose a challenge to this brainiac.

<Puzzle: How Many Ones?>

“Okay, say you’re counting from one to one hundred, right? And say you want to write it down,” Tommy says. “How many times would you write the numeral ‘one’?”

“That’s hardly a puzzle,” Wilbur says, lips pulled into a frown of distaste.

“Bet you can’t solve it.”

Wilbur shrugs. He eats in relative silence, save for his quiet chewing and Puffy’s exaggerated slurps of her tea.

“It’s fifty-three times,” Wilbur says.

“Wait, how did you-?” Tommy trails off, gaping. “You…How did you do that so fast? And in your head too!”

Wilbur deigns to answer.

“He’s just a different breed of puzzle-solver,” Puffy says. “Don’t worry about it.”

“So are you,” Tommy mutters. “On the other end of the spectrum.”

Puffy does all she can not to reach over and throttle the boy. “Excuse you. My brain is just built different.” She adds quickly, seeing Tommy open his mouth, “Different in a good way.”

“You’ve had your fun, Tommy,” Wilbur says, having finished his meal. He leans back against his wicker chair. “How about you solve my puzzles for a change?”

Puffy can almost see a zap of electricity crackling in the air as Tommy stares Wilbur down with a challenging gaze, one that the latter returns. She would never be able to understand the intensity that comes with a competition on puzzle-solving, of all things.

“Try me,” Tommy says.

<Puzzle: Angle Anguish>

“Have you ever noticed that throughout the twenty-four hours of the day, there are special times like 01:11, where the same digit appears three times in a row?” Wilbur says. “Well, if you take these special times and measure the angle on an analogue clock going clockwise from the hour hand to the minute hand, excluding times where twelve lies between the hands, for which time is the angle the greatest?”

“What? That’s not fair! That’s hard!”

Wilbur ignores the complaint. “If you are half as smart as you say you are, Tommy, then this should be no problem for you.”

Tommy folds his arms and glances out the window. It is as if Puffy can hear the gears turning in his head. “Three fifty-five.”

Wilbur raises a brow, clearly impressed. He dabs at his lips with his napkin and stands. He pays for the meal and the trio return to Great Ely Street once more, headed in the direction of Hotel Ely, where Tommy predicts the spectre would strike.

*

“Are you sure the spectre would show up?” Puffy asks. She leans against the windowsill, staring out into the thick blanket of mist that obscures most of the town. She can only make out the silhouettes of buildings just across the street.

With all the residents evacuated, the town appears quite dead.

“A boy who can foretell disaster, a town covered in mist and a spectre shrouded in fog,” Puffy says, sitting on Wilbur’s bed and making herself comfortable. “It’s all really absurd if you ask me.”

“You think?” Tommy mumbles. He moves over to the window. Wilbur sits in the armchair by the vanity, arms folded and head dipped, eyes closed. Meditation? At this time?

Just as Puffy is about to berate Wilbur for that, a strange melody floats in through the window. Lilting notes both high and low, strung together by a commendable rhythm. It sounds like…

A flute.

Where is it coming from?

The ground rumbles. Tommy nearly topples right where he stands. Wilbur leaps to his feet and rushes to the window. Puffy joins them, staring out the window. Her eyes dart from silhouette to silhouette, on high alert.

The ground quakes again. Tommy stumbles, the purest expression of fear on his face.

“We’re going to die. We’re all going to die!”

“Nonsense,” Wilbur says. His voice is calm, but it carries an urgent note. Without further ado, he dashes out of the room. Puffy makes after him, only to be stopped by an insistent tug on her wrist.

“You can’t! It’s too dangerous!” Tommy cries.

“But we can’t just leave Wilbur out there!” Puffy says. Tommy is stronger than he looks with those gangly limbs. When an attempt to yank her arm away does not work, she sighs.

Puffy places a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, meeting his fear-filled eyes.

“Tommy, it’s in times like this that you have to be brave, alright? You want to stop the spectre, and we want to get to the bottom of this mystery,” Puffy says. “And the only way to do that is if we face this spectre head-on.”

Tommy nods stiffly. Puffy knows that it is not easy to stand up to the frightening monstrosity just hanging outside their door, causing unimaginable destruction to everything it touches. The eerie call of the flute does not help matters.

Puffy reins in a shriek of surprise when the light flickers and the bulb blows, plunging them into darkness. In the glow of the moonlight, the glint of a claw catches Puffy’s attention as it grasps at the windowsill. Tommy screams, pushing at Puffy in a panicked escape. Puffy grabs Tommy by his shirt, hoisting him up into her arms as she hurries out of the room, kicking the door shut behind her.

The lobby is unlit, the receptionist nowhere to be found.

“Put me down, lady!”

“Well, I wasn’t the one clinging to me like I’m your mother!”

She does let Tommy down, the boy having somewhat calmed. A cold draft whistles through the open door, tendrils of mist curling around the room like will-o-wisps. The ground continues to shake and rumble, with no signs of stopping.

“I’m going out to look for Wilbur. Do you want to stay here?”

Tommy shakes his head, tightening his grip on Puffy’s sleeve. “I’m coming with you.”

Puffy smiles. “Right then, let’s go.”

*

Once outside, the echoes of the flute fill their ears, the song louder than even the scrape of claws against the walls of buildings, tearing down the sturdy stone structures with a single swipe.

Wilbur stands in a nearby alleyway, squeezed between two buildings. He waves them over, and Puffy and Tommy joins him. This is a good vantage point to observe the spectre, Puffy thinks.

The spectre is bathed in fog, and Puffy can only make out a faint shape in the overwhelming white. Is it just her or is the fog getting thicker?

Puffy squints, trying her hardest to watch the spectre’s erratic movements. It slams into the hotel with such force that the building crumbles under its weight. Dust and bits of stone spray into the air as the building falls into ruin.

“This is terrible…” Puffy mumbles.

Wilbur narrows his eyes.

The monster begins to leave the area, stomping away down the street. When it is a safe distance away, Wilbur steps out from their hiding spot, Puffy and Tommy following suit. The first thing Puffy notices is the wet trail left on the ground, along with the clear imprints of claws against the stone path.

What kind of creature could have done this? Surrounded in such thick fog, it was impossible to get a good look – hell, even a glimpse - of the spectre.

“Do you hear that?” Wilbur says.

Not to mention the reverberation of the flute, of course. It could be just Puffy, but it seems like the melody is coming from everywhere, wrapping around them like the softest blanket.

“Where’s it coming from…?” Puffy wonders. As far as she can see, the street is deserted save for the three of them. If there is anyone out there playing the flute…

Nope. No such thing as ghosts.

“It’s coming from…” Tommy glances around.

“Over there?” Puffy gestures to the archway that leads to Paddy’s Place.

“It’s…” Even Wilbur appears to be at a loss. The sound of the flute seems to be everywhere at once. Then, with a final crescendo, the flute music stops, leaving the trio in silence, with only the thick mist for company.

“Wilbur?” Puffy looks over at him. She can hardly see him clearly – the mist does not allow for that – but from the way he swivels on his heels and returns to the hotel with nary a word, she can imagine that he is quite frustrated.

The incident had certainly left them shaken, but Wilbur and Puffy have come with a purpose. To solve the mystery of the spectre, and to stop it from destroying the town.

Chapter Text

“A black market?”

Tommy stabs his fork into a sausage. “Yeah. There were rumours floating around that the devil’s flute was sold there a couple of years back.”

“The devil’s flute…” Puffy mumbles.

Tommy hums.

“I think this devil’s flute is worth checking out,” Wilbur says. “Do you know where the black market is, Tommy?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“But we did see a market on the way here,” Puffy says. “Do you think the black market could be there?”

Wilbur shrugs. “It’s worth a shot.”

They finish their breakfast at the hotel and bid farewell to the gruff receptionist. With the mist cleared in the golden rays of the sun, Puffy feels more than rejuvenated, ready to start the day off with some good old investigating.

With Tommy taking the lead, the trio heads to the marketplace.

*

“Well, if it isn’t the mayor’s son!”

An elderly woman stands by the entrance to the market, peddling her wares on a peculiarly-shaped cart. Puffy’s eyes light up at the strange candies scattered on it, sugary goodness shielded by crinkly cellophane.

“Hey, eyes off the candy,” the woman huffs, making a shooing gesture.

“What? Why?” Puffy looks affronted, hands on her hips.

“Aunt Taffy only sells candy to children,” Tommy says.

“That’s right. I would have reconsidered if you were several years younger, dearie,” Aunt Taffy says. She turns back to Tommy. “Now what brings you here?”

“Nothing. Just doing a bit of investigating,” Tommy says. “About the whole spectre thing and all.”

“That’s dangerous business,” Aunt Taffy says, sounding concerned. “I heard the last attack was at Ely Street. Whatever are you doing here?”

“We’re looking for the black market,” Wilbur says, stepping forward. “The place rumoured to have sold the devil’s flute.”

“The black market!” Aunt Taffy wears a grave expression. “I’m not sure what you expect to find here, but I wish you good luck on your search.”

Wilbur thanks her, and they head into the market, entering a place buzzing with activity and the scent of fresh produce. To their left, a girl calls attention to her fruits and vegetables on sale. To their right, a boy helps a customer weigh a slab of ribs.

Puffy has absolutely no idea where to even start. Wilbur, on the other end, does. He approaches the girl selling vegetables.

“Excuse me, miss,” Wilbur says. “May I ask a few questions?”

The girl eyes them playfully. “Hmm…maybe. If you’d help me solve this puzzle first. I’ve been thinking over it for a long time now.”

Wilbur nods. “Of course.”

<Puzzle: Cracked Clock>

“So let’s imagine you have an analogue clock. When it dropped on the ground, its face was cracked in half. Curiously enough, the sum of the numbers on each side is equal, so how was the clock cracked?”

Wilbur hums. “The crack begins from between nine and ten, and ends between three and four.”

The girl claps her hands. “Wow. Thanks! I can really go and show Crow my stuff now!” She leans across the counter. “So, what do you want to know?”

“Have you worked here long?” Wilbur asks.

“Yeah. Couple of years.”

Puffy frowns. The girl looks only slightly older than Tommy is.

“May we know where to find the black market?”

A strange expression crosses the girl’s face, but it disappears in a fraction of a second. She shakes her head.

“No. I don’t know anything about that.”

“That’s a shame,” Wilbur says airily. “Thank you for your time.”

“Wanna thank me by buying something?” the girl grins toothily, gesturing to her wares. Wilbur has already stridden away from the stall. Tommy and Puffy exchange glances.

“A box of strawberries, please.”

The girl beams, grabbing a box and handing it over to them. Puffy pays for it and they follow Wilbur down the street, the man coming to a general store at the northernmost part of the market. The store is empty, save for the boy at the counter, picking his nose as he reads a book. As with the girl, he barely looks older than Tommy.

“Hey, Nabby.” Tommy waves in greeting. The boy, Nabby, snaps his book shut, greeting them with a smile.

“Hey, Tommy. What’s a rich boy like you doing in this part of town?”

The rift between them is rather obvious, Puffy thinks.

“We’re looking for the black market,” Wilbur says. “Could you point us in the right direction?”

“Hey, info doesn’t come cheap,” Nabby says. “If you can help me with this puzzle I’ve got, maybe I’ll consider helping.”

He knows something. That is what Puffy’s intuition is telling her. She glances over at Wilbur, who nods.

“Hit me with it.”

<Puzzle: Eating Point>

Nabby unfolds a tattered piece of paper that he had placed beside the register. He spreads it out on the counter, and Wilbur moves closer to get a better look. It depicts a map, nothing like the kinds that Puffy is used to. This one looks crudely hand-drawn.

“You see, I’ve been invited out for lunch at an eatery somewhere in town,” Nabby says. “But the thing is, I kinda forgot which eatery I’m supposed to go.

“But I know that the eatery lies north of the hero statue, south of the goddess statue and east of the lion statue. The problem is this: this map doesn’t show compass directions or the names of the statues.”

As soon as Nabby finishes speaking, Wilbur stabs his finger against a spot on the map.

“This one.”

Nabby purses his lips, somewhat taken aback by how swiftly Wilbur solved it. A sense of pride wells up in Puffy’s chest. It is always satisfying to see Wilbur putting that brain of his into action.

“Not bad,” Nabby says, nodding. “Well, as promised, I’ve got a piece of juicy info for you.”

Puffy leans in. Juicy information? Does this boy, of around thirteen years old, know where the black market is?

“There’s been rumours that a fearsome man runs the black market,” the boy says. “Covered in black, and he wears a bird’s mask. Like a plague doctor’s. And he’s called the Black Raven.”

Tommy furrows his brows. “I’ve never seen anyone like that before.”

Nabby shrugs. “They say he appears in the night. Some say that he appears to whoever seeks the black market. Make of it what you will. I’m just the general store guy.”

Puffy nods. “Thank you for your help.” She holds out the box of strawberries to him, which she and Tommy have already eaten half of. “Strawberry?”

Nabby laughs, grabbing a handful. “Tell Marilyn thanks for me.”

The trio exits the shop, somewhat intrigued.

“A man in a plague doctor mask…” Puffy muses. “Don’t you think it’s weird that someone would wear a plague doctor mask if they want to be inconspicuous?”

Wilbur hums noncommittally.

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “I’ve never heard of this Black Raven before. But honestly, I don’t come here very often.”

Puffy can imagine. As they head out into the main street, unease washes over her. What is this twinge of disquiet she is sensing? Wilbur pauses in his tracks. Has he noticed something off too?

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asks.

Wilbur does not respond. Instead, he spins on his heels, looking up. Puffy follows his gaze, gasping when she realizes that a man stands atop the slanted roof of a house, palm pressed flush against a chimney.

The stranger is clad entirely in black, outfit haphazardly cobbled together with bits of cloth, white thread visible in the sunlight. The man wears a mask, the fabric beak jutting out from underneath his hood.

“Is that…the Black Raven?” Puffy squints against the sun.

“What? How did he get up there?” Tommy cries.

Is anyone else seeing this? Puffy glances around, eyes widening at the lack of people here. Most of the stallholders are gone, and those that remain do not seem to care about the appearance of the Black Raven.

“I heard that you seek the black market,” the Raven says.

“We do,” Wilbur says, walking boldly up to the house where the Raven is perched. “Tell us how to gain access to it.”

The Raven laughs. For a man, his voice is awfully high-pitched. “Straight to the point, are we?”

With that, the man begins to run, with amazing dexterity for his lanky frame. Puffy takes off after him, leaping onto an awning and propelling herself into the sky. She lands on the roof, noticing a black shape dropping from a ledge at the far end.

“Get back here!” Puffy shouts, giving chase. On the ground, Wilbur and Tommy are in hot pursuit as well, Wilbur’s coat flapping in sudden gale.

“Over here.”

Puffy halts in her tracks, spinning around only to find the Raven standing by the edge of the roof from where she came. How had he…? There is no way he could have been that fast!

The Raven laughs, leaping back down the roof. Where is he going?

“Hey! Stop!” When Puffy peers down past the roof, all she can see is an empty street, with no sign of the Raven in sight. Puffy throws out a kick in reflex at a tap on her shoulder. The Raven dodges her attack easily, laughing as he bounds away, leaping over rooftops and disappearing behind a set of chimneys.

“Puffy!” Wilbur calls from the ground. He is standing with Tommy in the middle of the marketplace. Accompanying them is none other than the Raven.

This has got to be magic. They are dealing with an honest-to-goodness magician. Puffy leaps from the roof to an awning, bouncing off it and onto the ground. She touches down lightly on the stone path.

“What’s happening?” Puffy strides up to the group, gesturing at the Raven. “How’s he everywhere at once?”

“How indeed,” the Raven says. Even the mask is unable to hide the smirk in his voice. “For people as smart as yourselves, I suppose I could grant you permission to enter the black market as long as you prove yourself worthy.”

“Worthy?” Tommy asks. “What’s that mean?”

“We have to solve the puzzle of the market. Isn’t that right, Raven?”

Raven nods. “Indeed, you are a smart man. To start, you must find the four tokens that I have hidden across this market.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard,” Puffy says.

Raven cackles. “I hope to hear from you soon.”

He darts away, feet moving quickly down a narrow alleyway. Puffy makes after him, but Wilbur grabs her wrist, tugging her back.

“Why’re you…?” Puffy starts, but Wilbur shakes his head.

“All will be made clear in due time,” Wilbur says. “For now, we must do as the Raven bids of us.”

Puffy pouts. More work for the brain, it seems. She would rather be out there boxing the Raven into submission if she is being honest. Still, that man is inconceivably fast. Puffy would not be surprised if Raven does end up being a wizard of sorts.

“Four tokens? Where are we supposed to start?” Tommy whines.

“Asking around, of course. Someone’s bound to know something. No pain, no gain, as they say,” Puffy says, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Tommy groans, ducking away.

Wilbur appears to be pinching something between his fingers, a crinkled piece of blue paper. He inspects it like a detective would. Puffy does not know someone else who would scrutinize blue cellophane like that.

“What’s that?” Tommy asks.

“Candy wrapper,” Wilbur says dismissively. “You shouldn’t litter, Tommy.”

“That’s not mine!”

Tommy finds a nearby trash bin to toss it anyway.

“Hey! You’re back!”

The girl who mans the vegetable stall, Marilyn, waves to them. Wilbur approaches her.

“Marilyn, I would like you to tell us about the Raven’s tokens,” Wilbur says.

“The Raven’s token? I don’t know what that-”

“There’s no use lying, Marilyn. Not if you want me to expose the secret of the market.”

The shift in Marilyn’s expression is especially pronounced. She narrows her eyes, no longer as cheerful as she had been. Wilbur’s glare is freezing, taking no pity despite Marilyn’s age.

“You have to pass my test first, though,” Marilyn says. “Like you would ever other token.”

Wilbur shrugs. “That is fine by me.”

<Puzzle: Favourite Umbrella>

Marilyn pulls out four umbrellas from below the counter.

“Out of these four umbrellas, only one fulfils the conditions I’m about to give you,” Marilyn says. “The umbrella I’m thinking of has a blue handle, a red rim and a circle pattern.”

Wilbur jabs his finger at umbrella A. Marilyn grins, not of mirth but of smugness, and claps. She reaches into the pocket of her greasy apron and flicks a golden coin at Wilbur. Wilbur catches it expertly.

“I hope that helps,” Marilyn says. “I’ll be seeing you soon, then.”

Wilbur walks away from the stall.

“What was that about?” Puffy asks. “What do you mean the secret of the market?”

Wilbur ignores her, keeping his eyes trained on the road. They take a turn down an alleyway leading to the slums. Puffy pinches her nose as soon as she catches a whiff of the pungent stench. Tommy sticks close to Wilbur and herself, throwing furtive glances around.

Puffy can feel them too. Eyes from within the shadows. There are children everywhere, watching them from the balconies, from the staircases, the windows, like cats watching mice. The only one who does not shrink away from the penetrating glares is Wilbur.

“What are you doing here?”

A pudgy boy walks up to them, a book under his arm. He regards them with suspicion behind those thick-rimmed spectacles.

“A rich boy doesn’t belong in the slums.”

“I…” Tommy falters.

“We’re looking for a token, much like this one,” Wilbur says, holding up the golden coin that Marilyn had given them. “I assume you are holding onto the second piece?”

The boy grins lopsidedly. “And what if I do?”

“Then all I have to ask is, ‘What does the trial demand of us?’”

“What else but a puzzle? The Raven is fond of puzzles, after all,” the boy says. “My name is Louis, and Raven has trusted me to come up with the most exciting puzzle ever.”

<Puzzle: Paper Pair>

Louis snaps his fingers, and one of his lackeys saunters up to him, handing Wilbur a strange piece of paper and a pair of scissors.

“Your job is to cut the piece of paper such that you have two pieces which are of the same shape and size,” Louis says. “You can only cut along the dots, and you can’t lose any part of the stationery.”

“Can I flip the resulting pieces?”

Louis nods. “Of course.”

It takes Wilbur no more than a minute to come up with a solution, cutting the piece of paper with utmost surety, producing two identical shapes. He hands the pieces and the scissors over to Louis, who stares, taken aback, at the items that Wilbur holds out to him.

“The token, please.”

“U-Uh…sure.” Louis blinks, losing his self-satisfying smirk. He hands the token over to Wilbur, who immediately shoves it into his pocket with the other one. One by one, the children leave the scene, clearly disinterested now that their leader is beat.

“The next token is by the chimney quartet,” Louis calls out.

If Wilbur heard the clue, he does not show it. He leaves the slums, with Tommy and Puffy in tow.

“I’m still confused about all this, Professor,” Puffy says. “How do you know where the tokens are?”

“Informed guesses,” Wilbur says curtly. He does not elaborate.

“Where’s he going?” Tommy whispers, cupping his mouth.

Puffy whispers back. “I’ve got no clue.”

Louis did say something about a chimney quartet. Could Wilbur be looking for it? He lifts his head, surveying the rooftops.

Tommy is the first to find it, pointing at a set of chimneys spread across a rundown house. Is the token up there?

“Puffy, you’re up,” Wilbur says, keeping his gaze locked on the chimneys.

“What? Why me?”

“Your athletic abilities are clearly superior to mine, and Tommy’s.”

“Hey!” Tommy puffs his cheeks out.

A praise from Wilbur, albeit not about her mental abilities, makes her feel somewhat better; at least Wilbur deems her useful for something. Puffy wastes no time in climbing the awnings, while Wilbur and Tommy watch from the ground. She steps over the rough tiles of the roof and pads on over to the chimneys, keeping her eyes peeled for any tell-tale shine of the token.

Fortunately for Puffy, she does find something balanced where the chimney meets the roof, the cracked tiles keeping it from sliding.

Unfortunately for her, the item in question is a cuboidal box, secured with a lock consisting of several alphabets, a piece of paper slapped onto it and held fast with some duct tape.

<Puzzle: Floating Cottages>

These Rainbow Cottages are very popular with tourists. A visiting couple have decided to paddle a boat out to one of the cottages and walk back to the mainland, crossing each of the twelve bridges only one. Which cottage should they start at?

“What’s wrong?” Tommy calls. “Too afraid to get down?”

“Oh, shut up!” Puffy resists the urge to chuck the box at him. She can do this. She can solve this puzzle like Wilbur and Tommy probably can. She just has to put her mind to it.

It takes her a while, to the point where the heat of the roof starts to eat through her trousers. Puffy taps on the right alphabet and the lock clicks open. Within the box lies the shiny token.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she murmurs, leaving the box on the roof and holding the prize up for Wilbur and Tommy to see. Puffy leaps from the rooftops, gingerly making her way down the ledges and back to where Wilbur and Tommy are standing.

“Now, we’re left with one more,” Puffy says. “Do you have any idea where that is?”

“Quite possibly.” Wilbur receives the token from her. “Bear in mind that it’s just a speculation, however.”

Puffy nods.

“Where is it?” Tommy asks.

“You will see.”

Wilbur leads them back down the bustling marketplace, headed for the general store where Nabby is seated, still reading that book of his. Upon seeing them, he closes the tome, leaning back against his chair and digging in his ear.

“Welcome back,” Nabby says pleasantly. “What can I do for you?”

“We need the final token of the raven,” Wilbur says. “Do you know where to find it?”

“Final token, eh?” Nabby says, grinning and scratching his chin. “Looks like the boss is right about you. But as you know, we don’t give stuff out for free. This is a market, after all.”

Nabby turns in his seat and retrieves four peculiar dolls, unlike what Puffy has ever seen. Their glassy eyes stare back at her, pinning her with an eerie, lifeless gaze. Is this the puzzle?

<Puzzle: Which Doll?>

“It may not look it, but one of the dolls here…let’s call them A, B and C,” Nabby says, gesturing to the dolls on the right. “One of the dolls here is identical to this one.” He pats the head of the door on the far left. “Your job is to find out which one is it, but you can’t touch them.”

Wilbur furrows his brows, a hand against his mouth as he regards the dolls. Puffy tilts her head. The dolls are clearly different, from their faces to their outfits to their accessories…Is there some sort of trick to this?

“It’s this one,” Tommy pipes up, pointing at doll C.

“Is it?” Nabby says, leaning back against his chair.

Tommy glances up at Wilbur. “Is it?”

Wilbur shrugs.

“Don’t worry if you get it wrong,” Nabby says with an amused whistle. “I’ve got more puzzles in store.”

“We’ll choose Doll C, then,” Tommy says. Nabby’s lips stretch into a grin. He reaches over to the doll and then proceeds to flip it upside down. Puffy gapes as she watches the toy transform before her very eyes.

“No way.” Tommy stares at it.

“Cool, eh?” Nabby says, flipping the doll about. He scoops the dolls up and tosses them aside. He reaches into his drawer and produces the final token. He hands it over to Wilbur, who pockets it.

“Come with me.” Nabby leads them into a back room of the store covered in dust and cobwebs. Puffy coughs, a hand shooting up to cover her nose and mouth. Nabby does not seem to have a problem, bending down and hauling a couple of boxes away from a corner of the room. He uncovers a hatch, revealing a slim rope ladder leading deep into the ground.

“What the hell is that?” Tommy stares at it, a low sound of surprise rumbling in his throat.

“Give that to the Raven.” Nabby coughs. He slams his fist against his chest. “The tokens. Give the Raven the tokens.”

Wilbur makes his way down the ladder, one rung at a time.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Puffy asks.

Nabby laughs, then coughs and wheezes. “I’ve got a store to run. I hope you guys can find what you need down there.”

Tommy follows Wilbur, trembling fingers wound around the rope with a death grip. Puffy waves goodbye to Nabby before dipping her head, staring down into the deep abyss to which they descend.

*

The journey is long, and the wobbly rope does not make it easier. Puffy breathes a sigh of relief as soon as her feet touch the ground. She scans the area. They seem to have come to a large canal, larger than those tiny waterways in town. Here, water flows past rapids, shimmering in the dim light of the lanterns hung on the walls.

From the shock and awe on Tommy’s face, Puffy cannot imagine that he has entered this secret lair before. There is only one path past a set of crumbly stone stairs, leading them to a set of intimidating brass doors. The chamber is overgrown with moss, stalactites hanging from the ceiling above.

Wilbur approaches the doors, inspecting a strange lock cast upon them, sealing them shut.

<Puzzle: Crawling the Web>

A spider has made a particularly intricate web. When its prey gets stuck at A, the spider starts from thread 2 or 5 to get it. To get to prey at B, the spider uses thread 1 or 2. The spider uses a simple rule, so which two threads could the spider start from to get to C?

Wilbur’s eyes trace along the threads of the web, flicking from thread to silky thread. He touches the two that correspond to the answer. The lock disengages with a click and one of the doors swing outward.

The stale smell of wood fills Puffy’s nose. The chamber beyond is well-lit and cleaner than the pathway they just took. A stage stands at the very end, planks painted in a chequered pattern. Oil and acrylic paintings are displayed on the walls, a price tag under each frame. Statues stand at the corners, their stone eyes seemingly following them.

Thick violet curtains are draped over a doorway, pushed aside as a man emerges from behind it.

“It’s you!” Tommy cries. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“That does not matter,” Raven says. A chill runs down Puffy’s spine. Being unable to see Raven’s face, unable to tell what he is thinking, puts her on edge. “What matters is what you are looking for.”

“We are looking for the person who bought the spectre’s flute,” Wilbur says. “We heard rumours that someone had bought it a couple of months back.”

Raven shakes his head. “We don’t give out confidential information to just anyone.”

“Isn’t passing the trials enough?” Tommy asks.

A moment of silence passes between them, and Raven laughs heartily. “Absolutely not. The trials you’ve just gone through is merely to get you into this hall.”

“In that case, all we have to do is to prove we’re worthy, correct?” Wilbur says, treading forward.

“What are you playing at?”

“I know your secret, Raven,” Wilbur says. “The secret of the market.”

Raven takes a step back. “You couldn’t.”

“I do, and I’m not afraid to use it to get what I want,” Wilbur says threateningly. “The moment I expose your secret, Raven, your entire business will come tumbling down.”

“Professor? What are you talking about?” Puffy asks.

“I will spell it out for you right now, if you think I’m bluffing,” Wilbur says. “After all, you’re all still just children.”

Children? What is that supposed to mean?

“You don’t know what you are saying,” Raven says.

“Actually, I do know what I am saying,” Wilbur says. “You disguise yourself as a grown man with that garb of yours. Not just any grown man, but a man who can seemingly teleport.”

“Yeah! How’d you do that?” Tommy asks. “You didn’t use magic, did you?”

“I can assure you that there’s no magic involved,” Wilbur says, turning his nose up at the sound of it. “In fact, I can safely say that the Raven who stands before us now cannot teleport.”

“So was there a trick?” Puffy asks.

“Quite a simple one, to fool simple people,” Wilbur says with a nonchalant wave. “To pull that stunt, there must be more than one of you. In fact, I’d say most of the children living in this market are actors in your grand performance.”

“They all dressed up as Raven and began running around!” Tommy cries.

“Indeed,” Wilbur says. “Now, there are two clues that helped me in my deductions. The first is that most of the stallholders in this market are children around Tommy’s age.”

Raven says nothing.

“When we exited Nabby’s place and prepared to leave, most of the stallholders were gone from their stands,” Wilbur says. “Now, I found this odd. Where had everyone gone? I didn’t think much of it then. After that, the Ravens appeared.”

“So while Nabby kept us entertained, you guys were setting up for the trick!” Puffy realizes.

“The second is the curious thing I’ve found on the ground, perhaps due to the carelessness of one of your associates: a blue candy wrapper,” Wilbur says. “Now, that would not mean much by itself – anyone can drop a candy wrapper, after all. But what struck me was that when we were talking to Aunt Taffy earlier, she refused to sell candy to my assistant on account of her being an adult. Do you see where I am getting at, Raven?”

“Impressive,” Raven says, a waver in his voice. With a swift move, Raven pulls off the bird mask, dropping it to the ground, along with the rest of his outfit.

There are two boys hidden underneath the cloak, one of them balanced on the other. The boy on top leaps to the ground, tipping his ratty hat.

“Welcome to the black market, distinguished guests,” the boy says. “You may address me as Crow.”

“Have I proved myself worthy of your assistance, Crow?” Wilbur says.

Crow nods. “You’ve single-handedly solved the mystery, but don’t get me wrong. I’m doing this to keep your mouth shut.”

“As long as we have come to a clear understanding between us,” Wilbur says. “Now, I would like to know who purchased the spectre’s flute.”

“We sell many strange artefacts with strange names. I can search the records but I can’t guarantee I can find you what you need,” Crow says. He glances back at the boy behind him, stuffing his mouth full of candy. “Tweeds, can you go and get the book?”

Tweeds salutes Crow and ambles on past the curtain, presumably where all their artefacts are stored. He returns shortly with a thick book that frays at the seams. Crow flips it open with hardly a care about its condition.

“Spectre’s flute, eh?” Crow thumbs the page, gazing at the words thoughtfully. “Yeah…I got you. Two months ago. Sold to Evan Barde.”

“Barde?” Tommy’s voice wavers.

“Yeah,” Crow says. “Man, it was a really hefty sum too.” He closes the book. “There you have it. Your flute belongs to a dead man.”

“Barde is dead?” Puffy asks, raising a brow. If that is the case, then how are they going to get their hands on the spectre’s flute now?

“But Arianna is still alive, right? And Tony?” Tommy asks.

Crow shrugs. “Who knows? No one’s seen either of them ever since Evan Barde’s death.”

“Where can we find Barde’s residence then?” Wilbur asks.

“Past Highyard Arch,” Tommy says. “But it’s a little creepy, because there’s a lot of mist and shit.”

“Even in the daytime?”

“Pretty much,” Crow says. “Although, I wouldn’t recommend going up there, not if you want to anger the witch.”

The witch? Now those are words that Puffy has not heard for a while. What does the witch have to do with this?

“Did Innit not tell you?” Crow says, eyes darting to Tommy, then back to Wilbur and Puffy. “Evan Barde’s daughter is the rumoured witch.”

“That’s not true, you bas-” Tommy starts, but is jolted into silence when Wilbur claps a hand on his shoulder.

“I thank you, Crow,” Wilbur says, “but I do not believe for a second that a witch exists. Now, we must get going.”

Crow smirks. “You’re really one of a kind.”

Turning his back on the auction chamber, Wilbur heads back out into the dingy cavern and up the ladder. They emerge once more in the storeroom of Nabby’s shop.

“Come again!” Nabby calls with a good-mannered wave as the trio head back out into the marketplace.

“We’re going to Barde manor now, right?” Tommy asks.

“Naturally,” Wilbur says, keeping his eyes on the road. “If we are going to discover the truth about the spectre, then it is necessary to throw ourselves into the lion’s den.”

Puffy likes the sound of that. The witch’s house, here they come!

“Can you take us there, Tommy?” Wilbur asks.

“Yeah.”

Tommy has become significantly quieter, a far cry from his usual self, at least in the two days that Puffy has known him. Has the encounter struck a chord in his impressionable heart? Or is the prospect of confronting the witch a little too scary for his fragile courage?

In any case, Tommy brings them over to the town square, turning down a long, inclined road that would lead them over the hills to Highyard Arch and, by extension, Barde Manor.

*

Chapter Text

The walk is a breezy one. The higher the cliffs go, the cooler it gets. A dam lies ahead, a humongous wooden gate keeping the water from tumbling into the town square. A particularly strong gale zips by, forcing Puffy to clutch the coat tighter to her body.

The paved roads are pleasant to walk on, the stone providing good traction despite its smoothness. The canals run by them, their surfaces peppered with rusted metal pipes. Puffy swears she sees a small rodent sticking its head out, whiskers twitching. She is not a fan of rats, or mice, or any form of vermin.

Eventually, the path affords them to a nice view of the lake that surrounds Misthallery, the paved road coiling around a cliff. A boat rental shop stands at the very bottom of a descending path carved into the rock face, flanked by houses of all shapes and sizes. Yachts and rowboats bob on the rolling waves of the lake.

“Barde Manor is up ahead,” Tommy informs them. Puffy snaps her gaze away from the amazing view. She must not forget the purpose of their journey: they are here to find Arianna Barde, daughter of Evan Barde.

Tommy had told them about Evan Barde’s death as they walked. He was a very wealthy man who owned a large part of the land around town. However, he was greedy as he was wealthy, charging exorbitant prices to the people living on his land. As such, Barde was very much disliked by most of the townspeople.

No one really missed him when he died, apart from his daughter and son. They locked themselves away after the incident, and the townspeople never saw them again. Some say they died of grief, bodies left undiscovered in the manor, while others say they ran away deep into the wilderness, but most believe that the daughter, Arianna Barde, has turned to witchcraft.

Tommy says nothing on the matter.

The path becomes less pleasant and creepier the further they travel. Weeds sprout from the crevices between the bricks of the road. Tendrils of mist curl around them, obscuring their view. The trees that crowd the path reaches at them with its gnarled fingers.

Puffy ducks under a branch and hops over a giant root that snapped the path in two. Before long, they come to a garden which, evidently, has not been tended to in a very long time. Beyond the garden, however, is their destination. Barde Manor stands amongst the wildlife, home to all manner of greenery.

This place should hold some answers regarding the spectre’s flute, assumed to have produced that echoing melody. Does that flute control the spectre? If so, is Barde’s daughter sending the monster on a rampage throughout town?

Is she really a witch?

Wilbur walks right up to the front door with nary a care. The windows are stained, protected by elaborate railings. What may have once housed flowers now only grow leaves of dull colours.

Out of the corner of her eye, Puffy spots a shape through a window, a silhouette against the glow of a light. The silhouette disappears almost as quickly as it had appeared.

“There was someone in there!” Puffy cries, stabbing a finger at the window.

Tommy squints, frowning. “It’s probably either Arianna or Tony.”

Perhaps.

Wilbur raps his knuckles on the door. The hollow knocks summon a gruff bark greeting them as a man opens the door. He sports a trailing beard, unkempt hair framing his face. He wears a cap, a pathetic attempt to keep his unruly hair in its place.

“What’s the matter with you lot?” The man’s accent is strong, his voice particularly squeaky. Puffy can barely understand him. “You bloody whippersnappers have to learn some respect!”

“We mean no harm, sir,” Wilbur says in that polite tone of his. “We’d just like to-”

“Out! The lot of you!” The man grabs a rake from the side, shoving its pointy ends at them.

A rake is nothing. Puffy is about to step in to settle the altercation, but Wilbur shakes his head.

“I apologize for offending you,” Wilbur says. “I suppose we should take our leave.”

“You shall!” the man huffs. He slams the door in their faces, leaving a dumbfounded Tommy standing with an irate Puffy and a contemplative Wilbur.

“What the hell! I’ve never seen that guy before!” Tommy glances from one companion to the other.

“What are we going to do, Professor?” Puffy asks.

“Puffy, you said you saw someone in the house, did you not?” Wilbur says.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t tell what kind of person it was,” Puffy says. “It was just a shadow.”

“I suspect that they may be one of Evan Barde’s two children,” Wilbur says. “Still…” Wilbur trails off, taking stock of the information. “Tommy, are you certain that you have not seen that man before?”

“Not before Evan Barde…passed away,” Tommy says.

“I see,” Wilbur says. “Come on, we must find another way in.”

“Find another way in? Aren’t we just trespassing, then?” Puffy starts, before backing up quickly. “Not that I’m against trespassing, Professor-”

“You should be.”

Puffy did bring that one upon herself.

“However, special circumstances do call for special measures,” Wilbur says.

“Special circumstances?” Tommy asks.

“You had never seen this man before, not even before Barde’s death, and yet you seem to be rather close with Arianna,” Wilbur says. “Is that not a cause for concern? A strange man keeping her in the house against her will, perhaps?”

Puffy never thought of it that way.

“In any case, we still have to figure out the secret behind the spectre’s flute,” Wilbur says, “and that answer lies with Arianna Barde.” They step away from the front door, putting a fair distance between themselves and the building.

“Let us investigate,” Wilbur continues. “We might find an alternate entrance.”

There is no time to spend standing around and twiddling their times. Puffy is going to put those strong legs of hers to work and dig up something so significant that it would blow her companions away.

*

“What’s this?”

Across a foggy field is a lake, also swaddled with mist. An elevated jetty stands at the edge of the water, alongside a couple of rusted pipes. A tower resembling a turret is erected by the lake, a dilapidated stone hallway bridged across to the manor, melding seamlessly with its walls.

“Do you think we can get in this way?” Puffy asks.

Wilbur says nothing. There is only one way to find out.

The tower is dustier than Puffy expected. It has been viciously reclaimed by nature, buried under clumps of moss and vines and ivy. The tower is windowless, supported by a round, sturdy pillar that extends from the floor to the roof, wrapped by a spiralling staircase.

The staircase leads them right up to a door. Is this the one that leads to the bridge? The bridge between the tower and the manor?

Wilbur approaches it, and Puffy notices a lock set in place. Well, that answers her questions. Tommy ducks under Wilbur’s arm, trying to get a peek at the lock as well.

<Puzzle: The Coded Door>

The lock on this door is not of the normal variety. It will open if they put in the correct pair of numbers. To the right of the door handle is a legend with a set of equations that should help them work out what the symbols mean. Each symbol represents a different number between 1 and 9.

Wilbur has the answer immediately, tapping the right numbers. The lock springs open, allowing them access into the hallway that would bring them into the manor.

The hallway is decorated by tapestries, paintings and banners, several suits of armour wielding spears standing equidistant from each other. The only light seems to be filtering through the stained windows, the sun glaring with those piercing rays.

As spooky as the hallway may feel, the trio make it to the end safely, emerging by a grand flight of stairs in the most ornate house that Puffy has ever seen. Its interior looks just like one from a Tudor house, a rustic chandelier illuminating the room, candelabras adorned along the walls with unlit candles.

Puffy tenses at the sound of mutterings floating from the ground floor. That man must be preoccupied downstairs – they should find Arianna and leave immediately.

Wilbur’s footsteps are light as he traverses the length of the corridor, being virtually soundless against the glittering marble tiles. Tommy plods on after him, with Puffy in tow.

What is this? Puffy notices a framed photograph on the wall, depicting two children who look barely older than six. One of them is a young girl, ginger bangs framing her forehead. She wears a frilly dress, hugging a doll to her chest. Sitting beside her, on the ground, is a boy grinning mischievously at the camera amidst a bunch of toy trains.

“That’s Arianna and Tony.”

Tommy joins her by the photograph.

“The Barde children?” Puffy asks.

“Yeah.”

This photograph provides a sharp contrast to the rest of the manor. The brightness of their smiles and demeanour juxtaposes the dreariness of the empty hallways. It is concerning to see just how much the spirit of the house has deteriorated, how the years of sorrow and grief has worn it down so.

A knock to their left has both Puffy and Tommy turning around, noticing Wilbur standing in front of another massive set of doors. A plaque with the words “Arianna Barde” is affixed to the wood. Building blocks and toy trains are left scattered across the floor in front of it.

“Tony? Is that you?” a girl’s voice calls from within. Wilbur does not respond. The door swings open and the girl appears at the door. Her pleasant smile morphs into a frown of slight fear, before being replaced with an angry scowl.

“How did you get in here?” Arianna snaps. “You are trespassing on private property, you are!”

“I apologize, miss, but we seem to be under the impression that you are kept in this house against your will…”

“Against my will!” Arianna cries, sounding affronted. “Listen, I choose to remain here in this house because I want to and not-” She opens her mouth to berate them once more, only to be wracked with a terrible fit of coughs.

“Arianna, are you-” Tommy starts, but Arianna pins him with the most fearsome gaze Puffy has seen.

“Don’t,” she wheezes, between coughs. “Don’t you dare come near me.”

“Arianna? What’s wrong?”

The thumping of footsteps alerts the trio to someone behind them. Puffy whirls around to find the man that had chased them out earlier standing at the end of the hallway with a rake in hand.

“What in the blazes is going on over here?”

“Please escort these people out, Seamus,” Arianna says as she turns her back on them. “By whatever means necessary.”

“Wait! Arianna!” Tommy starts, but Wilbur places a hand on his shoulder, silencing him.

“We regret having startled you in the most…the rudest fashion,” Wilbur says, maintaining the same professional tone that he always uses. “We will take our leave now.”

“You will,” Arianna says, her voice more subdued than before. She disappears into her room, and the group has no choice but to leave under Seamus’ watchful eye.

*

“And don’t come back!” Seamus shouts, slamming the door in their faces.

“Well, that was a bust,” Puffy says.

“I would not have allowed you to perform your martial arts on a defenceless senior, Puffy.”

“He was anything but defenceless!” Tommy cries. “He had a bloody rake!”

“Even so, have you noticed something strange about that house?” Wilbur asks.

“What’s so strange?” Puffy asks.

“Tony,” Wilbur says simply. “Tony was the strange bit.”

“What does Tony have to do with this?” Tommy asks.

Wilbur exhales forcefully, nostrils flaring. “We never did see Tony in that house, did we? Where had he gone, then?”

Tony could have been out of the house. Then again, they never did notice any boats out on the misty lake, nor any sign of Tony in the town. Besides, Tommy mentioned that no one has seen Tony around ever since Evan Barde’s death.

“One more thing,” Wilbur says, “does Arianna have an illness, Tommy?”

Tommy sighs. “Arianna has been sick for a long time. That’s why she never really left the house much, not even when her dad was still alive.”

“How did you meet then?” Puffy asks. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who could come up here to this…it’s really far, is what I’m saying.”

“I’m fit, man. I’ve got muscles!” Tommy huffs.

“I’m not sure that’s something you want to be saying to her,” Wilbur says.

It takes a moment for the implications to sink in. Puffy and Tommy exchange glances.

Did serious and cynical Wilbur just crack a joke?

Wilbur does not follow up on that. He leads them back down the mossy streets that would take them back to Highyard Arch, passing by those beach houses and the boat shop and the sparkling lake. Without a clear lead now, perhaps it is time to ask around town.

*

“Seamus? Oh, the gardener that lives up at the manor.”

A woman reading at a café’s porch is the only one who seems willing to speak about the residents of Barde Manor. Given the rumours surrounding Arianna, the lack of willing assistance is not surprising.

“The gardener, you say?” Wilbur asks.

The woman tugs at her bobbed hair. “Well, that’s what he says he is. He is not just a gardener, though. He runs errands for the Barde girl.”

“So, like a butler.”

“I would say so. Yes. He usually heads to the market at this time of the day. Maybe you might catch him there.”

Wilbur’s eyes light up. A clue! A rather specific and helpful one at that!

“Thank you so much for your time, miss,” Wilbur says. “You have been an incredible help.”

The woman blushes, stuttering a “You’re welcome!” as Wilbur flashes her a polite smile. Puffy snorts.

“You think she’s got the hots for him?” Tommy whispers.

“Probably,” Puffy says. “If you don’t know what he’s really like, Wilbur’s kind of got this gentlemanly charm to him.”

Tommy bursts out laughing.

The next stop is the marketplace, where they had just been about an hour ago. Puffy wonders if Seamus really passed them by without their notice. Did he take a shortcut that they do not know about? Well, no matter. One of the children at the market should be able to help them out.

*

“It’s you again!”

Aunt Taffy stands dutifully at that spot in front of the market, peddling those sweet, sweet wares of hers. She glares at Puffy.

“No touching the sweets!”

“Relax! I won’t!” Puffy cries. Jesus, what’s wrong with her?

“Aunt Taffy, have you seen Seamus?” Tommy asks.

Aunt Taffy’s eyes glint. “Information doesn’t come cheap, kiddos. I’ve had a bit of a conundrum recently. Found myself in a predicament, I have.”

“Might we help?” Wilbur asks.

Aunt Taffy titters. “I’m glad you asked.”

<Puzzle: Candy Counter>

Aunt Taffy spreads a bunch of differently-shaped candy all over a plate, each one taking the shape of different poker suits. Diamonds, clubs, hearts and spades.

“Now, I’ve ordered these sweets a couple of days ago, but when they came, their quantities are incorrect! But when I contacted the seller, she told me that the number she sent was actually correct. Can you tell how many of each sweet I’ve ordered?”

“Two spades, three hearts, and four of the other two,” Wilbur says.

Aunt Taffy nods slowly. “But these sweets…they clearly aren’t…” Puffy squints at those innocuous pieces of candy.

“I can see why you’d think that way,” Wilbur says. It is quite simple when you realize just what is going on, but Puffy would have called the seller and complained about it too.

“Now will you tell us where Seamus is?” Puffy asks.

“Don’t you be so rude, young lady,” Aunt Taffy huffs. “Seamus just left some time ago. You would have caught him if you were just a few minutes earlier.”

Did they just completely miss him?

“Oh, and one more thing. All this talk about Seamus…you should stay away from Barde Manor, dearies,” Aunt Taffy says. “The witch’s mark has appeared again.”

“Again?” Tommy bites his lip.

“Yes,” Aunt Taffy says gravely. “In the East District. I’d stay clear of that place if I were you.”

What could that mean? Wilbur nods and thanks Aunt Taffy for that information, before heading back across the rickety bridge towards the town square.

“What do you make of all this, Wilbur?” Tommy asks. “Shall we go back to Barde Manor?”

“I think we should check out the East first,” Wilbur says. “There is something I’d like to confirm.”

“About the witch’s mark, Professor?” Puffy asks.

Wilbur shrugs.

At Tommy’s direction, the trio gingerly navigates the maze-like streets of Misthallery, eventually arriving at the road that would lead straight up to the police station. Ah, a building she is familiar with. Puffy has had her fair share of those.

The witch’s mark is not exactly inconspicuous. Splashed across the front wall of the brick wall is a peculiar symbol in blue paint. It resembles the mark that Puffy and Wilbur saw when they entered Misthallery for the first time.

“It’s the witch’s mark,” Tommy says. “That means someone here talked ill about Arianna.”

“And their house is going to get destroyed?” Puffy asks.

Tommy shakes his head. “Not necessarily. Sometimes, houses were left alone, but with the frequency of the spectre attacks, it won’t be long before this house is reduced to rubble too.”

Wilbur approaches the wall, bending down and picking something up. A piece of red cellophane. Now, where had Puffy seen that before? Wilbur beckons Tommy over.

“Hold out your hand.”

Tommy furrows his brows. “Why.”

“Just do it.”

Reluctantly, Tommy does as he is told, and Wilbur deposits the cellophane into his waiting palm.

“Now be a good citizen and throw that away.”

Tommy is, very obviously, resisting the urge to punch Wilbur’s lights out. Puffy wonders how Wilbur can say all that with a straight face. Tommy’s expression is rather funny. He stalks off in search of a trash bin.

Even so, finding a candy wrapper there, amidst the spotless tufts of grass, is strange. What can that mean? Suspicion nags at the back of Puffy’s mind. Has she seen something like this before?

“Anyway, I’ve gathered all that I need to,” Wilbur says. “Come on, let us head back to Barde Manor.”

“You’ve figured everything out?” Puffy asks, watching as Tommy runs back after having disposed of the candy wrapper.

“More or less,” Wilbur says. “Perhaps you could have, too, if you had considered the significance of the clues we have gathered so far. The wrapper only served to confirm my suspicions.”

“We’re leaving already?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah,” Puffy says, as Wilbur begins to stride towards Highyard Arch. “We’re going back to Barde Manor.”

“But Arianna-”

“Wilbur’s figured out the whole secret, apparently.”

“Is he going to be all smart-arse again?”

Puffy is not sure whether to reprimand Tommy for his crass language but decides against it. “Probably. But he is sorta cool when he does that.”

Tommy hums, the sparkle in his eye belying his indifference. Together, the three of them head back to Barde Manor, intent on dispelling the myths about Arianna once and for all.

*

A melodious sound greets them when they next arrive at Barde Manor. Breezy, sharp like the chirp of a bird. Puffy recognizes the music it weaves, the slather of colours across a canvas. It is the tune that she heard the night before, the one that played when they encountered the spectre.

Is that the spectre’s flute? Then are the rumours true? Rumours that Arianna is a witch?

“It’s coming from the lake,” Tommy says.

Wilbur trudges over to the lake, treading on damp soil held together by snaking roots. When the lake comes into view, so does a girl. Arianna stands with her back to them, flute to her mouth, fingers deftly moving across its length.

“Miss Barde?”

Arianna gasps, fumbling with the flute as she turns around. She narrows her eyes.

“What are you lot doing back here?” she exclaims furiously. “Get away! You are not welcome here!”

“We have much to discuss,” Wilbur says. “But first, is Seamus around?”

“Seamus is…”

“Oi! What do you want with the lady?”

Trotting behind them is the bearded man from before, Seamus, carrying loads of bags in his arms. He drops them, the bags of groceries tumbling to the ground as he shakes a fist angrily.

“You never learn!” Seamus says, standing between Arianna and the group. “Barde Manor is no playground for you-”

“I think it’s time you drop the act, Seamus,” Wilbur says. “Or should I say…Tony?”

Puffy nods understandingly. It looks like she has been right on the money as well. Tommy appears to be the only one flabbergasted at the revelation. However, it is just like Wilbur said. Put the clues together and you will arrive at your answer in due time.

“What are you talking about? There is no Tony living here!” Seamus huffs.

“There is no need to lie anymore,” Wilbur says. “The number of inconsistencies with your story is astounding.”

“Incon-Inconsistencies…?”

“Indeed,” Wilbur says. “For one, despite knowing that Miss Barde has a brother named Tony, we have yet to catch sight of him. However, there are signs that Tony is still around.”

“Signs?” Tommy asks.

“The building blocks and toy cars on the floor in front of Arianna’s room,” Wilbur says. “Granted, they could belong to Arianna, but the picture in the hallway proves otherwise.”

Seamus tugs uneasily at his beard.

“Moreover, we have learned from a young miss back in town that you are, supposedly, a gardener who works in this estate,” Wilbur says, and makes a sweeping gesture. “However, will a gardener stand for the clear disarray of this garden?”

Arianna tries to speak up, but Wilbur holds out a finger.

“Finally, when we had gone to the house where the new witch’s mark is said to have appeared, there was a red candy wrapper amongst the pristine grass patch outside it. Now, applying the same logic as I had before, that Aunt Taffy only sells candy to children, I can only guess that whoever wrote the mark is a child.”

“Wait, so-” Puffy starts. What connection does this point have with Seamus being Tony?

“Considering your tight-knit relationship with your sister, I believe that you are Tony Barde, and that you are the one who has been defacing houses with the witch’s mark.”

“I will not stand for this!” Arianna takes a step forward at the same time she is wracked with coughs. “I will…I…” She is unable to speak, the choking coughs conferring a great distress upon her. Seamus – or perhaps Tony? – runs over and pats her back, smoothing at her hair with his youthful hands.

His voice no longer croaky, Tony speaks to Arianna with the utmost gentleness. Wilbur watches it with an unchanging expression, arms folded. Meanwhile, Tommy stands to the side, fists clenching and unclenching, conflict drawn across his features.

When Arianna’s coughs settle, Tony turns back to them, and promptly removes his disguise, beard, hat and all. Under that rough exterior hides a young boy with fire in his eyes.

“Why must you torment us?” Tony glares daggers at them. “My sister is sick! She can’t entertain your questions!”

“It will take no more than five minutes of your time, I assure you,” Wilbur says.

Puffy frowns, wondering whether she should convince Wilbur to back off. Clearly, Arianna is in no state to discuss her father’s death with them, and yet without her help…

“Then promise me one thing,” Arianna says. “Promise me that you will not tell anyone what Tony has done. I will speak to him to ensure that he does not do anything like this again.”

“Of course,” Wilbur says. “There are two things I would like to ask of you. The first is regarding your father’s death.”

Straight to the point. Arianna’s expression morphs from one of defiance to one of uncertainty and uncomfortableness. She takes a deep breath.

“What do you…need to know?”

“I would like to understand the circumstances surrounding his death,” Wilbur says. “At present, our information is lacking…”

“Father threw himself off a cliff,” Arianna says curtly. “There was a witness. I’m sure that’s all you need to know.”

“It was a suicide?” Puffy asks.

“Don’t know. Don’t think so, but we can’t prove anything,” Arianna says.

“You said that there was only one witness?” Wilbur asks.

“Yeah,” Tony says, nodding. “Tommy can tell you all about him.”

Tommy glances away, scuffing his soles against the earth.

“I see,” Wilbur says. “Do you know if there is any reason your father would have wanted to-”

“No,” Arianna says, shaking her head. “He never said anything. He never even mentioned it.”

Wilbur must have noticed Arianna’s clear discomfort, because his voice softens, carefully switching the topic.

“About the spectre’s flute,” Wilbur says, gesturing to the instrument in Arianna’s hands. “We heard that your father had bought the flute a while ago.”

“He did. Before he died,” Arianna says. “It was put on display, and we weren’t allowed to so much as touch it.”

“I see. Could I say that it is just a regular flute with an ominous name?” Wilbur asks.

“Ominous or not, it calms me down,” Arianna huffs. “This flute has nothing to do with the spectre attacks in Misthallery.”

Wilbur nods. “Thank you for your help, Miss Barde. You have been most helpful.”

Neither child appears happy in the slightest. They are probably wishing for their immediate departure. Puffy cannot say she blames them. As per his word, Wilbur turns and leaves them to their devices.

Tommy watches wistfully as Arianna and Tony heads back into the manor.

“What’s wrong?” Puffy asks.

Tommy does not answer. Instead, he follows Wilbur down the path winding past the dense forest. Puffy casts one last glance back at the Manor, then descends the hill with her two companions.

*

“So, what are we going to do now?” Puffy asks.

“Library,” Wilbur says. “We are going to have to dig up as many reports on Evan Barde’s suicide as we possibly can.”

“Like newspaper reports?” Puffy cannot say that she welcomes the idea. She would rather be anywhere than in the middle of a library, flipping through newspaper after newspaper. That would lull her into dreamland almost instantly.

“What else? Unless you have access to police records, I doubt that-”

Puffy grins. “I have my connections, Professor.”

Wilbur raises a brow.

“You have connections?” Tommy asks incredulously. “You?”

“Oh, shut up.” Puffy folds her arms. “I can head back to Scotland Yard and procure some, if you’d like. Surely London would have some investigation records or something.”

“Well…” Wilbur rubs his chin. They have stopped right outside Misthallery’s local library, a squarish stone building with a dome for a roof. The words “Misthallery Library” is etched across the stone plaque erected outside its doors. “I suppose it is worth checking out.”

“And I can take my bike there too,” Puffy says. Anything is better than spending her late afternoon looking through newspapers. “I’ll be back before you know it!”

Wilbur nods. “If you don’t find us here, call me.”

He and Puffy exchange numbers. Tommy follows Wilbur into the library, complaining about how books to put him to sleep.

With that, Puffy marches back down the street. She has an old friend that she has not greeted in a while, one whom will prove helpful in her endeavour.

Chapter Text

The trip to London is hardly crowded, the roads unexpectedly deserted save for a few sedans and a couple of scooters and motorcycles on the expressway. Puffy weaves through the traffic, her two-wheeler carrying her back into the now-busy streets of London.

She knows the roads like the back of her hand, having lived in London for quite a few months already. Puffy turns at the junction, heading down the street that takes her straight to the front door of the imposing Scotland Yard.

Puffy parks her motorcycle by the road and salutes the officer standing outside. The station is rather busy; telephones ring incessantly, harried officers running about in the back.

“What might be the matter, miss?” the officer behind the counter asks her.

“I’m looking for Inspector Ponk. Is he around?” Puffy asks.

The officer shakes his head. “Inspector Ponk is out at the moment. Probably apprehending some unlucky bloke in the su-”

Before the officer may continue, the large window to their left shatters, two figures falling past the shards and landing harshly on the ground in a heap of limbs. One of them, dark-skinned, wears a trench coat, while the paler man is cuffed across the wrists.

“Get down! I said, get down!”

The burly criminal struggles, throwing the Inspector off of him and making a break for the exit, the officers unable to react in time. Puffy aims a solid kick at the criminal’s face and sends him flying into the wall with a harsh thump. The criminal slumps to the ground, subdued.

“Puffy!” The man in the trench coat, Ponk, walks over to her, arms spread wide. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s good to see you too, Ponk,” Puffy says delicately. “Ponk, I need something from the records room.”

Ponk blinks. “That was very direct of you, Puffy.”

“Would you like me to treat you to dinner first? Is that what you want?”

The officers drag the unconscious criminal towards the detention centre. Ponk watches them for a couple of seconds, before turning back to Puffy and sighing. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Yeah, so can I see the files?”

Ponk purses his lips. “You know I can’t say no to a friend. Which files do you need?”

Excellent, Puffy thinks. “It’s about a case from Misthallery. You know, the town just north of here.”

“I don’t go out of London much.”

Ponk and Puffy descend a damp staircase. Puffy scrunches her nose at the dangling strings of cobweb above their heads. When is the police going to pull their act together and get this place cleaned up?

Ponk taps this identification card on the reader and it blinks green, allowing them access into the dusty chambers of the records room. It is as messy as Puffy remembers it to be. She wonders how long she would need to spend in here to get the files she needs.

“Take your time. I’ve got nothing planned for the rest of the day.”

Puffy shoots him a look. “Don’t you have, like, Inspector duties to attend to or something?”

Ponk sighs dramatically. “I just nabbed a dangerous criminal, Puffy. What else do you want from me?”

Fair enough. Ponk leads Puffy over to the shelf containing the file of interest.

“Oh, okay, I think I know where it is,” Ponk says, tracing a finger over the spines of the files. “But the thing about this records room is that we have this special system.”

“And?” Ponk cannot possibly be implying what he is…

“And it’s a system that I don’t really understand…” Ponk trails off, but straightens his back at the sight of Puffy’s disappointed gaze. “But I can give you some clues!”

Well, it looks like Puffy cannot run from puzzles even when she is miles from the Professor…

<Puzzle: Find the File>

“Okay, so the file you want to find is two files away from a file with a 3 in its number. It is also three files away from a file with a 6 in its number and four files away from a file with a 9 in its number. All the mentioned files are on a single shelf.”

Puffy frowns as she scrutinizes the shelf of files. “Can you get the higher-ups to change the filing system or something?”

“I can, but I don’t really come down here often so…”

Puffy sighs. She stares at the numbers of the files till her head swims. If Wilbur was here, he would have obtained the file in seconds.

Eventually, she does work out the right file number – file number 29 – and is careful to extricate it from the crowded shelf. She brushes the dust off its cover, opening it to find a silverfish wriggling about within the pages.

Puffy stifles a shriek, slamming the file shut.

“What’s wrong?” Ponk asks.

“Bug.” Puffy opens the file again and blatantly ignores the corpse of the silverfish on the front page. The file on Misthallery is rather thin. There have been several petty thefts, a few counts of vandalism…all of them closed cases. The final case listed in the file is that of the suicide of Evan Barde, just the one she was looking for.

“Mind if I take this?” Puffy asks.

“Sure. As long as you return it later.”

Good old Inspector Ponk. Ever so easy-going.

“Where are you going, Puffy?” Ponk follows her out to the front of the station, the very picture of boredom. Puffy sits astride her motorcycle, the file tucked into the storage box fitted at the back of the vehicle.

“Misthallery,” Puffy says. “You wanna come with?”

Ponk’s eyes light up at that. “I’ll go get the car.”

“My motorcycle can sit two.”

Ponk freezes. “No, Puffy. I am not riding on one of those with you ever again.”

“I’ll meet you at Misthallery, then. I need to hand something over to the Professor.”

“The Professor? Who’s that?”

Puffy cannot hear Ponk over the roar of her motorcycle. Within seconds, she is off, leaving Ponk in the dust. Now, she is headed back to Misthallery. In the hour that she had been gone, perhaps Wilbur and Tommy have found something of note already.

*

“What’s this about a mining site, Tommy?”

Wilbur gestures to the front page of an older issue of newspaper. The photograph on the front depicts an excavation site, a hole drilled deep into the ground. Evan Barde’s picture accompanies the headlines.

“He was looking for the Golden Garden,” Tommy says. “Had this whole construction thing going on.”

“Excavation thing, you mean?”

Tommy blinks. “Yeah. That.”

“What’s this Golden Garden?”

Tommy shakes his head. “I’m as clueless as you are. Some people think that it’s something really old and valuable buried under Misthallery.”

“Like an ancient artefact?”

Tommy shrugs.

“May we go see this excavation site, then? We may find something out about Evan Barde there.”

There is no harm trying. The duo returns the stack of newspapers to the browsing trolley and head out of the library. The path leading towards the excavation site passes by the factory, smoke billowing from their chimneys.

“Is the factory still in use?” Wilbur asks. “I was under the impression that it was abandoned.”

“Well, it was,” Tommy says, scrunching his nose up at the faint stench of grease. “I don’t know who is using it now.”

Wilbur does not press the matter.

The path tumbles down a valley, past a field of flowers, depositing them at what appears to be a small canyon. Tommy has never been here before – it was always closed to the general public because of Evan Barde’s excavation works. Ever since his death, the excavation site has just been left as it is, though the signs warning of danger have been removed.

Honestly, the site is as barren as Tommy imagined. The sides of the walls have been hollowed out, the boulders and rocks crumbling. All that remains of the old excavation sites are lengths of what appears to be shells of explosives and buttons.

“This is…a terrible method of excavation.” Wilbur frowns disdainfully at the abandoned equipment. “Whoever gave him the go-ahead?”

Tommy didn’t think anyone did. Evan Barde tended to do as he pleased.

“Are those…scratch marks?”

Tommy squints in the direction that Wilbur is pointing in. His eyes widen as he notices the gashes cast along the walls of the surrounding ridges and cliffs. What are those doing there? Did they belong to some sort of machinery?

Wilbur turns his back on the sorry place. “I think that it is time to return, Tommy. I reckon Puffy would be back soon.”

Tommy nods. He follows Wilbur back past the canyon, brushing overhanging branches and leaves, stumbling towards Misthallery.

*

“You got ice cream without me!”

Puffy stares at the duo, affronted, as they lick at their chilled treat. Tommy sticks his tongue out at her. How dare they sit here at this cute café consuming ice cream while she was out busting her ass to get them this piece of valuable information?

“File,” Wilbur says, holding out a hand.

“Money for ice cream,” Puffy counters.

Wilbur can hardly hide the upward twist of his lips, reaching into his pocket to grab some coins, tossing them at her. Puffy catches the spare change with a deft swoop of her arm and places the file on the tiny table.

Puffy gets herself a chocolate ice cream topped with a sinful amount of marshmallows and sprinkles. And chocolate sauce. She re-emerges into the harsh sun and settles at the seat between the two.

“What did you find out?” Puffy asks.

“The identity of the witness of Evan Barde,” Wilbur says. “Take a guess.”

“There are, like, hundreds of people living in this town and I’ve hardly talked to one per cent of them, Professor.”

Wilbur hums, licking at the ice cream without sparing her a glance, continuing to pore over the file.

“It’s my dad,” Tommy says, kicking at the ground. “He was the one who witnessed the suicide happen. Said he wasn’t sure who he actually saw, but when they fished the body out from the lake, it was most certainly Evan Barde.”

Clark Innit was the witness?

“But ever since then, he has been…” Tommy shakes his head. “My dad wasn’t the same after that. He withdrew from us, me and my mum, and locked himself up in that office every day. It’s like he became a whole different person.”

“Do you think it was the shock?” Puffy asks.

“I doubt it,” Wilbur mumbles, still staring holes into the document. “It has been months since it happened.”

“It’s the spectre’s curse,” Tommy says. “The spectre made my dad like this. It has the powers, you know?”

“That I…sincerely doubt,” Wilbur says, pausing as if he can hardly comprehend the absurdity of the statement.

“You saw it for yourself!” Tommy says, gesturing wildly. “The spectre destroyed the buildings. It smashed into the hotel!”

“I will say this as many times as I need to,” Wilbur says. “I do not believe that a spectre exists. We simply need to find out what the spectre is.”

Before Wilbur can continue speaking, a plump man waddles up to them, clad in a brown jacket and black pants a few sizes too tight. A deerstalker perches atop his head and he holds a pipe in hand. Wilbur wrinkles his nose at the smell.

“You Wilbur Soot?”

Wilbur does not respond to the provocation. Puffy is on the verge of rolling her sleeves up and giving this man a piece of her mind. Tommy shrinks back against his seat.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” the man slams a fist against their table. The file jerks, and Tommy flinches. Before Puffy can subject the rude man to her deadly moves, Wilbur pops the last bit of ice cream cone into his mouth.

“I would appreciate it,” Wilbur says as he crunches noisily in the man’s face, “if you would refrain from intimidating my colleagues.”

“Your colleagues?” The man laughs haughtily. “You have a child with you!”

“He is no less competent than you are, Detective Jakes,” Wilbur says. Puffy glances from Wilbur to Tommy. Who is this Detective Jakes and why is he so full of himself?

“A child is only a child,” Jakes sneers. “He knows nothing about the world.”

“Neither do you,” Wilbur says scathingly, staring Jakes down, “if you think that I would let my assistant take such abuse from you.”

Jakes’ lips turn into a snarl. “You can’t do anything to me here, Professor Soot. This is my home turf.”

“So it may be,” Wilbur says, settling back into his seat, fingers clasped in front of him. “It’s time you get straight to the point, Detective, so that you may get out of my face.”

“Why you-” Jakes’ face is a startling crimson. “No, you know what? I will have you out of here very soon, Soot. Very soon.”

“Is that all you came to tell me?”

“I heard you’ve been digging into the death of Evan Barde,” Jakes says, stabbing a finger at the file lying open on the table. “I suggest you give your investigation up immediately, or something unpleasant might happen to you and your…” Jakes smiles. “Colleagues.”

Puffy’s blood runs cold. What does that mean?

“I see,” Wilbur says flippantly, gathering the file up. “I think we’re done here, Detective. Have a good day.” He turns to Puffy and Tommy. “Come along now.”

Puffy stuffs the last bit of ice cream cone into her mouth, the taste of it sandy on her tongue. Detective Jakes does not follow them, though Puffy believes it will not be the last they see of him. That man smells like trouble, and Puffy knows trouble.

“Who was that?” Puffy asks.

“Detective Jakes,” Wilbur says. He hands the file over to Puffy, who takes it from him. “The chief of the police station. Third-Eye Jakes, proficient in making arrests.”

“I guess a man can’t have everything. His attitude was downright horrible!”

“I never did say,” Wilbur says, “that his arrests weren’t wrongful.”

Oh.

“No one likes him but, well, crime has been disappearing ever since he came,” Tommy says.

“He’s new?” Puffy asks.

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “He moved in to Misthallery right before Evan Barde’s death.”

“And for some reason, he is trying to have us leave Misthallery because we are poking our noses into the closed case,” Wilbur says. “Frankly, I have my suspicions, but it’s best not to get involved in a man like him. Our ultimate goal is to stop the spectre from destroying Misthallery.”

That is true. Someone like Jakes will get his just desserts in due time. Now, they must focus their efforts on finding out the true nature of the spectre. Might Evan Barde have been killed as a result of the spectre’s flute? If they discover the truth behind his death, may it lead them closer to their answer?

“Where are we going now?” Tommy asks.

“There is someone we have to meet,” Wilbur says. “I’m sure you know him very well, Tommy.”

Tommy bites his lip. “Yeah, I do.”

Together, the trio heads back across the rope bridge and across the abyssal chasm, making their way to the Innit residence.

*

When Wilbur and the others arrive, Roland is the one who greets them at the door.

“Young master, have you word of the next attack of the spectre?” Roland asks as soon as they enter.

“Huh?” Tommy blinks, then nods. “Yeah. It’s Highyard Arch tonight. Can you help evacuate the residents, Roland?”

In the heat of the investigation, Puffy had completely forgotten about Tommy’s uncanny ability to predict the spectre’s next move. The Oracle is never wrong, the townspeople said. How he manages to do that is beyond her, however.

“It is my duty to Misthallery,” Roland says, bowing. “While I am gone, I implore that Beth help you around the house…”

“It’s alright, Roland. I just need to see my dad.”

Roland nods. “As you wish. Now, I must be off.”

With that, Roland leaves the house. Wilbur, Tommy and Puffy are then attended to by the Innits’ maid, Beth. Beth informs them that Clark is still in his office, dealing with paperwork. She takes them up to his office on the second floor, knocking gently.

“This is Beth, Mr Innit! The Professor is here to see you!”

The door is answered promptly by a harried Clark. His hair is dishevelled, eyes sunken into his sockets, looking the worse for wear. If Wilbur noticed, he says nothing on it.

“Welcome back, Wilbur!” Clark says with a tight smile. “How is the investigation going?”

“Rather swell, I’d say.” Wilbur nods. “However, the clues have led us to the death of Evan Barde.”

Clark stiffens. “I know that case well.”

Wilbur nods. “Of course. We’d just like to hear your thoughts on the matter. Perhaps, a personal recount would do.”

Clark sighs, running a hand through his hair. “There is nothing I can do to dissuade you, isn’t there?”

Wilbur’s only response is silence. Clark sighs, making a sweeping gesture and inviting them into his office. It is only when the door closes that Puffy realizes that Tommy is missing. Has he, perhaps, returned to his room? She understands, though. If Tommy believes that his father is truly under the spell of the spectre…

“I assume you want to learn about what I saw that night?” Clark says.

“Naturally.”

Clark drops his head into his hands. “I’m not sure what to tell you, Wilbur, that you probably don’t already know.”

“Then tell me what you do know.”

“Well…” Clark mumbles, eyes darting, gaze unable to meet Wilbur’s or Puffy’s. “Well, what happened that night…I was returning late from a meeting with a friend of mine, and I passed by a mountainous road near Highyard Arch.”

“Go on.”

“What I saw…I thought I had seen wrongly,” Clark says. “But I had witnessed the silhouette of a man throwing himself from a cliff in the moonlight.”

“It was at night.”

“Indeed.” Clark nods, looking down at his desk. “The night was young and it was dark, but I was certain of what I saw.”

“And yet you do not know whether this man was Evan Barde.”

Clark sighs. “It can only be him. I reported this to the police immediately, and Evan Barde’s body was fished from the lake that night.”

Wilbur hums. “I see.”

There is no doubt, then, that Clark saw the moment Evan Barde leapt from the forested bluff, hurling himself straight into the lake below. It must have been a scarring experience for Clark himself. Puffy wonders if the man lived with this guilt for the past few months.

“That is all I know,” Clark says. “That plagues me is that Evan Barde had no reason to kill himself. He never made mention of any trouble he had encountered, nor had we…there was no note…”

“Have you ever considered the possibility that he was murdered, Clark?” Wilbur asks.

Clark’s eyes widen. “Murdered?”

“Well, if the police are competent in any way, I’m sure that they must have suspected it at some point in time,” Wilbur says, clucking his tongue. “Who was the one who closed the case, Clark?”

“Jakes,” Clark says. “Jakes was the one who closed this case, right after he had become the chief of the police.”

Puffy never wants to hear that name ever again.

“Interesting,” Wilbur says. “Very interesting.”

“Is that all?”

“I do have a spectre to be catching, so I will bid you goodbye for now,” Wilbur says. He turns to Puffy. “Come on. Let us go.”

It is then that the door opens, and Roland steps in.

“Ah, Professor Soot,” Roland says, bowing once again. “It is almost time for dinner. Won’t you and your assistant stay a while?”

“Thanks, but we-”

“It’s a fine idea!” Clark says quickly, standing up. “Why don’t you stay for dinner? It’s not yet sundown, but it is time for a meal.”

Wilbur seems bewildered but composes himself quickly. “I suppose a spot of dinner won’t hurt.”

“Excellent,” Clark says, turning to Roland. “We will be eating now, Roland. Please let the cooks know.”

Roland bows. “As you wish, Mr Innit.”

With that, Roland turns and strides out of the room.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Wilbur, would you go to the cellar and pick out some wine?” Clark says. “Beth will take you.”

Wilbur nods. “Of course.”

Clark beams. “I will join you at the table once I’ve completed the last of this…” He gestures to the gigantic stack of papers. “This paperwork.”

Clark shoos them out of the room, and Puffy closes the door to Clark’s office quietly behind her, finding Tommy waiting for them outside.

“We’re having dinner?” Tommy asks. “Now?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Wilbur counters. As if in response, Tommy’s stomach begins to growl. “Come on, now. Let us pick a wine for the dinner.”

Puffy rarely drinks, and when she did, it is usually cheap beer. Wine owned by a family as wealthy as the Innits is going to be totally out of her league. Beth brings the group to the cellar, down a steep flight of stairs. The cellar is dark, the only light a flickering lightbulb dangling from the centre of the ceiling. Stacked to the brim are bottles and bottles and bottles of wine, a symphony of green staring back up at them.

“I have never seen half of these…brands before.”

“Neither have I,” Wilbur says.

“But Clark…”

“He knows that,” Wilbur says, squinting at the label on a bottle. “Which means that he wanted us to come down here for another reason.”

What reason? Puffy cannot quite imagine why Clark would want them in the cellar of his house of all places.

“Holy shit!”

Tommy jumps, body freezing, at the sudden thump that seems to come from beneath the floorboards.

“What was that?” Puffy asks.

“Probably a rat,” Tommy says. “There are a lot of rats living around here.”

Wilbur does not seem so sure. He treads carefully along the floor, staring thoughtfully at the planks of wood. He approaches the lone trapdoor at the corner of the room.

And he would have opened it if the door had not opened at that exact moment. Roland stands at the entranceway.

“Professor. Miss Assistant,” Roland says, “and young master. Dinner is ready. Please, do leave the selection of wine to me. A host must not burden his guests.”

Wilbur regains his composure quickly and smiles. “I thank you.”

They leave the cellar with more questions than answers, but Puffy will think on those later. She is hungry, in all senses of the word. The aroma of roasted chicken and soup from the dining room is all too tempting for a starving woman.

*

It is Roland who sees them out of the house, as Clark has an important phone call to answer. He wishes them luck and safety on their endeavour.

Night has fallen, the moon rising high into the sky. The twinkling stars provide no solace against the trepidation in their hearts. The spectre is supposed to strike tonight, at Highyard Arch, as Tommy had predicted.

“Where are we going now, Professor?” Puffy asks as soon as they set out on the misty paths. Fog has crept up around them, impenetrable without some sort of light guiding their way.

“To the spot where the spectre will appear,” Wilbur says. “That is, to say, Highyard Ar-”

It is at that moment, when they have reached the plaza, that they are suddenly surrounded by three men, each of them packed with muscle, dressed in drab clothing.

“What’s…” Tommy starts, but Wilbur shushes him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It seems that Jakes wants us out of the town. And fast.” 

The biggest of the thugs cracks his knuckles. “That’s right, and we’re promised good money for this. I hope you know what happens when you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong!”

“Wilbur, do I have your permission?” Puffy says, stepping forward.

Wilbur stands calmly, arms folded. “Of course.”

“What are you-” The thug barely has time to formulate his sentence before a fist meets his belly, sending him toppling to the ground with a groaning yelp. The time the other two thugs stare, wide-eyed, at their fallen friend. Enough time for Puffy to deliver the same punishment to the duo, the heel of her foot meeting their faces.

“What incompetent thugs,” Wilbur says, not once having moved from where he stands. “Jakes should really hire better men.”

Puffy grins, holding out a peace sign. A sudden shout from behind her has Puffy spinning around, spying someone familiar running up to them. Wilbur tenses, but Puffy welcomes the man with a friendly wave.

“Inspector!” Puffy cries. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Hey! Puffy! And Puffy’s friends!” Ponk greets quickly. “Puffy! You left me stranded outside the town!”

“I did?”

“Yes! These brains cannot solve puzzles, Puffy! It’s a miracle I got in!”

Oh. That. Puffy completely forgot about the puzzle protocol.

“Good evening, Inspector,” Wilbur says, holding out a hand, which Ponk shakes. Tommy eyes Ponk suspiciously from behind Wilbur.

“Good evening, Puffy’s friend!” Ponk says. He glances over at the men groaning on the ground. “They don’t seem like nice people.”

“You know what, Ponk? You can start helping by taking these guys into custody,” Puffy says. “They’re out to hurt us.”

“Really!” Ponk shakes his head. “I can’t believe the audacity!”

“Indeed,” Wilbur says. “I would love to stay and have a chat, Inspector, but time’s-a-wasting and I really must be off.”

“Where are you going?” Ponk asks, pulling out his cell phone.

“To catch a spectre!” Puffy shouts. She turns and runs after Wilbur and Tommy as they head off towards Highyard Arch.

*

“Have you gotten rid of the meddlesome Wilbur Soot yet?”

Jakes shakes his head. A trail of smoke curls like a wisp up towards the ceiling of the shabby room. The man in the boar’s mask frowns disappointedly.

“Don’t worry,” Jakes says. “I’ve got a plan, and it’s gonna happen tonight.”

“Tonight, you say?” the masked man mutters. “Well, whatever. I want him far away from the Golden Garden. Do you hear me?”

Jakes cackles heartily. “Of course, of course! After all, I need to pay you back for your indispensable help, getting me into this position.”

A smile graces the masked man’s face. Jakes does not like the fact that his associate sees the need to mask up. Are they not buddies? Pals? People who use each other for mutual benefits?

“Fifty per cent, correct?” the masked man says suddenly, just as Jakes is preparing to leave, to carry out his ingenious plan.

“Naturally. I helped you find it, after all.”

With that, Jakes leaves the room, striding down the hallway, ready to carry his plan out once and for all. Since arriving in Misthallery, that Wilbur Soot has been nothing but trouble. It is time to put him out of commission once and for all.

*

Chapter Text

“I’ve got a question,” Puffy says, watching the still water of the canal for any signs of life. There is none.

Wilbur does not reply.

“What is it?” Tommy asks.

“How’d you know where the spectre is attacking next? And when?” That has been one of the bigger mysteries thus far.

“That is an easy one,” Wilbur says. He gestures to the canal. “Tommy has been observing the water level of the canal.”

“The water level?” Puffy had not noticed a change at all! How had…?

“If you think back to when the spectre struck yesterday, at Ely Street, you would probably have noticed the drop in the water level outside our hotel,” Wilbur says, holding up a finger. “The water level in the canal along Highyard Arch has fallen as well between our first visit to the Barde estate and our second.”

Puffy stares, open-mouthed. “What?”

Wilbur smirks. “You would probably have seen it if you had been paying attention. Isn’t that right, Tommy?”

Tommy nods. “I saw it when I was walking home from school one day, that the water levels dropped significantly in one of the canals. That night, the spectre attacked that area of the town.”

“And then you put two and two together?” Puffy asks.

“Yeah.”

That is one mystery solved. They simply had to watch the water levels.

The fog thickens around them, if that is even possible. Is it time for the spectre to make its appearance?

“Puffy, take Tommy and hide,” Wilbur says. “We shall observe the spectre when it comes near.”

“Why am I not staying with you, Wilbur?” Tommy protests.

“Because I intend,” Wilbur says, “to get up close and personal with it. It is going to be dangerous, Tommy, and I simply do not want to have to answer to Clark if something untoward happened to you.”

“What does ‘untoward’ mean?”

Before Wilbur can answer, the ground rumbles. Puffy coughs as the mist becomes denser and denser. How is Wilbur going to even see in this fog? The air fills with a familiar sound, the sound of a song. The music echoes around them; it is everywhere at once. 

“Go now, Puffy!”

All Puffy can see is the flutter of Wilbur’s coat as he runs towards a nearby alleyway. Puffy grabs Tommy’s wrist and the duo ducks behind a building.

The waters in the canal begin to splash and ripple. The rumbling is getting closer, the cracking of the cobblestone path deafening to the ears. The spectre is near.  

A black shape storms through the mist, elongated claws at the ready. It moves quickly, tearing at the brick of the buildings as if they are nothing but paper. A claw stabs the ground, dangerously close to where Puffy and Tommy are hiding. Puffy sucks in a breath. She may be trained in the ways of close combat, but she is no match for something this terrifyingly huge and…potentially deadly.

The spectre rampages, smashing into buildings, slashing at the ground. Its red eyes glow menacingly in the dark, head swivelling on its body as if on surveillance.

The spectre jerks, toppling and falling against an empty cottage. It picks itself up immediately, before diving back to where it came.

It could be just Puffy, but she is certain that she saw two distinct shapes.

Just as the spectre takes its leave, darting down the street and back into the safety of the fog does the shroud of mist lift ever so slightly. The music dies with the fog. Wilbur strides over to them, a smug smirk on his face.

“You know what the spectre is?” Tommy asks.

“As a matter of fact,” Wilbur says, “I do.”

Wilbur opens his mouth to explain, only to be stopped by a throaty voice from behind. Puffy recognizes that voice. She turns around, her suspicions confirmed.

Jakes stands at the end of the street with a troop of constables, armed with batons. Puffy is not sure she can take them all on.

“I never did think you would pull something like this, Jakes,” Wilbur regards him with an expression of hatred. “I thought you’d play fairer.”

“I do what it takes to get the job done, Professor Soot,” Jakes says. “You are arrested on grounds of summoning the spectre and causing damage and destruction to private property.”

“You don’t have any evidence!” Puffy shouts.

“Evidence?” Jakes laughs. “The three of you were here during the spectre’s attack! You’ve got to be involved somehow! Men! Take them away!”

“Now see here-” Wilbur starts indignantly, only to be grabbed by officer nearest to him. “Stop touching me, you pricks!”

“Professor! What’s happening?” Tommy stammers. Puffy can hardly imagine the degree of fear gripping Tommy now. As much as Puffy wants to struggle against the officers, she knows that they are too strong for her.

Just what kind of trap had they fallen into?

*

The lock clicks, and that is that. Puffy slams her sole against the door, flinching at the sharp pain that sears through her foot. It looks like they are not getting out that way.

Tommy paces restlessly in the interrogation room, the clacking of his shoes against the floor driving Puffy insane.

“What are we going to do now?” Puffy sighs. Having been accosted by Jakes’ men, they have been thrown into this featureless room, save for a desk, several chairs and a landline. The landline is useless – it is probably an internal one – and it does not look like there are any hidden entrances or exits.

Meanwhile, Wilbur is humming a tune – the tune of the spectre’s song, Puffy recognizes – as he kicks his legs up against the desk, unfazed by their situation.

How long are they going to be kept in here? Jakes may just show up when dawn breaks to send them on to Scotland Yard. His reputation in Misthallery is frighteningly good. Furthermore, they have no evidence to be used against him. Who knows what might happen to them then?

“Wilbur, what are you thinking?” Tommy asks.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” Wilbur asks. “That Jakes and his men arrived just after the spectre disappeared? It is as if they knew that we were going to be there.”

“Do you mean that Jakes could be involved in the spectre’s appearance?” Tommy asks.

“Perhaps.”

“Speaking of that, you said you managed to get a good look at the spectre, Professor,” Puffy says. “Is it really not a ghost?”

Wilbur laughs. “Absolutely not, but I think that it is easier for me to show you.”

“And how are you going to show us if we’re all trapped here, eh?” Tommy says, scuffing his heel against the tiled floor.

Wilbur purses his lips. “Trapped? We were never quite trapped, Tommy Innit. Take a careful look at the lock.”

“The lock?”

“It’s a puzzle lock,” Wilbur says. He leans back against his chair and closes his eyes. “I’ll give you ten minutes, Tommy, to solve that lock. It’s time you prove your worth.”

Tommy shuffles over to the lock, glancing at it. The puzzle is accessible on this end. Now, all that matters is if Tommy is able to solve it.

<Puzzle: Good Neighbours>

A, B and C live on a street, their houses running from east to west on a straight line. Their roofs are coloured red, blue and yellow. Using the clues below, your job is to figure out who lives in which house and with what coloured roof:

• A lives west of B.
• The red roof is east of the yellow roof.
• The blue roof is west of A’s house.

“Well…” Tommy hums, staring at the three houses depicted on the lock. “It goes like this, innit?”

C, A, B, from west to east, and blue, yellow, red, from west to east. The lock springs open, and Puffy edges the door open, finding no one on the other end. What kind of scuffed police station do they run?

Still, Puffy can hear the clacking of keyboards. They are nearer the individual offices than she thought. Even with the lack of patrols, they should still be cautious.

If they slink in the shadows, away from the doors of the offices, then they should be able to avoid recapture…

<Puzzle: Escape Route>

In order to exit the police station, Wilbur, Tommy and Puffy need to get the key and reach the door without alerting any guards. There is a path that will allow the group to pick the key up on their way to the exit without passing in front of any guarded doorway or using the same corridor twice.

Unfortunately for them, the corridors are all one-way, so they must walk in the direction of the arrows.

Which path should they take to make their escape?

Puffy holds her breath as she presses her back against the wall, listening to the clicking of the mouse. Tommy taps her shoulder, beckoning her to where Wilbur is already leaving the room with the required key, making his way down another corridor.

After much tiptoeing and heart-stopping moments, the trio manages to make it out safely to the reception area. There is only one officer on duty, and he is asleep with his cap over his eyes. Wilbur slots the key into the lock and turns it, unlocking the door to the station with a loud clank. He slips the key into his pocket and quietly pushes the door open.

Puffy takes a deep breath of fresh, misty air as soon as they emerge. Wilbur tosses the heavy stick of metal into the nearby trash bin with a loud clatter. The guard, hopefully, remains asleep.

“You said you wanted to show us the spectre, Professor?” Tommy says.

“First, I would like to go back up to Barde Manor,” Wilbur says. “The first part of our spectre is there.”

“The first part?” Puffy asks.

“You did not seriously think that our spectre is a single entity?” Wilbur sounds more amused than anything.

“What do you mean? There were only two red eyes!” Tommy cries.

“A single pair of red eyes does not a single entity make,” Wilbur says, holding up a finger. “We will come to those red eyes later. For now, we must be getting to Barde Manor.”

Dawn quickly arrives, the first rays of sun shining down on them and casting its brilliant glow on the morning scene of Misthallery. The sheer destruction dealt to Highyard Arch ruins it, though. A devastating loss.

Now that Wilbur has figured out the identity of the monster, it is time to bring this case to a close.

*

Puffy hears the flute even before she sees Arianna standing by the lake with Tony at her side. It is a melancholy sight, with the still-darkened skies and the calm expanse of water before them. Tony notices their arrival before Arianna does, and he tugs on her sleeve, whispering something to her. The music comes to an abrupt stop.

“Why are you back?” Arianna asks, sounding more subdued than anything. Her hands drop to her sides in defeat. “What more do you want from us?”

“I would like you to summon the spectre,” Wilbur says, eyeing the instrument in her hand. “With that flute of yours.”

“I cannot summon the spectre,” Arianna huffs. “I thought we made it clear that the music calms me.”

“There is no point lying to me, Arianna,” Wilbur says. “Your flute music can be heard throughout the town on the nights that the spectre appeared. Clearly, there must be correlation.”

“Correlation is not causation.”

“That may be true, but in such a dire circumstance, I believe that every single lead, no matter how insignificant, must be investigated to its fullest extent.”

“But…I…” Arianna drops her gaze.

“It’s fine,” Tony says, shaking his head. “Let’s just show them. I think they’re good guys.”

Arianna still wears a suspicious frown, but she puts the flute to her lips and blows. This tune is livelier, happier. Staccato and legato woven together to form a joyful rhythm.

As the song is woven, something big and blue breaks the water’s surface. Puffy can only stare at the majesty that appears before her eyes. Whatever monster has appeared from the depths of the lake appears to be a combination between a manatee and a sealion. It peers curiously at them, foreign people to a foreign creature.

“This is one part of our spectre, I believe,” Wilbur says.

“Loosha,” Arianna says, approaching the creature and running her hand along its slippery hide. “She’s been our friend for a long time.”

“And she responds to the flute,” Tommy says.

“Yes,” Arianna says. “She acts according to the flute’s melody.”

“Wait, but there’s still one thing I don’t get,” Puffy says. “When we were in town, we could hear the sounds of the flute, but if you were playing it from all the way out here…”

“Yeah, how’d you do that?” Tommy asks.

“The answer is a simple one,” Wilbur says. “Look at what Tony’s leaning against. Tell me what that is.”

Puffy squints. “A rusted pipe?”

“Do you recall seeing many of such pipes along the streets of Misthallery?” Wilbur says. “They tend to stick up above the water’s surface in many canals. Arianna merely had to blow her flute through this pipe here” – he gestures to the pipe – “and the sound of her flute would travel far and wide.”

“That’s…incredibly clever of you.” Puffy has to hand it to her. Arianna is one smart cookie.

Arianna flushes ever so slightly, before turning back to Loosha. Loosha lets out a noise, akin to the singing of a dolphin. She nudges playfully at Tony’s side, but Puffy does not miss the numerous scratch marks across her body.

Where did those come from?

“There it is! Get it!”

Before Puffy can react, knotted webs of ropes soar through the air, coiling around Loosha like snakes. Loosha struggles, waving her head around with a haunting cry of pain.

“What are you doing? Stop it!” Arianna cries, running from the jetty over to the perpetrator of the heinous deed. Puffy narrows her eyes when she catches sight of him.

Of course it is Jakes. It has to be. That scoundrel of a man…

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jakes says tauntingly, ignoring Arianna completely. “I thought you should be in a certain room down in a certain police station.”

Wilbur’s jaw clenches.

“I said, let Loosha go!” Arianna stomps her foot, drawing Jakes’ attention away from Wilbur.

“Oh, if it isn’t the Barde children,” Jakes says, laughing. His men laugh along as well, though those laughs sound more than forced. “I see that flute in your hands, Arianna Barde. You think you can fool my third eye, don’t you, little girl?”

“What are you implying?” Wilbur huffs, stepping forward, but in one swift move, Jakes grabs Arianna by the waist and hoists her up onto his shoulder.

“Put me down, you stinking-” Arianna tries to toss and turn, wriggling in Jakes’ grasp.

“Arianna!” Tony runs forth, only to be swatted away by Jakes like a fly. Puffy dashes over to help him up.

“This girl has been summoning the spectre to destroy Misthallery,” Jakes says. “That monster you see? The monster of the lake? It’s the one destroying public property and the like! I knew you’d lead me right to it, Wilbur Soot.”

“Professor, you have to help Arianna!” Tommy grabs the hem of Wilbur’s coat.

“Jakes,” Wilbur says, “have you not noticed the type of damage wracked upon the buildings? They were claw marks. Nothing that Loosha could have made with those flippers of hers.”

“Bah, details, details.” Jakes cackles. “No one cares about them, Professor Soot.” He turns on his heels. “Look, I’ll let you and your friends go, but I’m taking the girl and the monster with me.”

“Tony! Loosha!” Arianna calls from where she is tossed over Jakes’ shoulder. The rest of his men begin to haul a subdued Loosha from the lake, dragging her massive body from the water. Loosha’s attempts to swing her tail at them is met with hostile beatings, something that Puffy cannot bring herself to watch.

“Professor! What are you doing?” Tommy’s panic is contagious. Hearing his fearful voice, Puffy feels a bit on edge as well. “Why aren’t you helping them?”

“Because we are no match for them,” Wilbur grits out. “Not now. Not before the entire truth is revealed.”

“Are we going to do that, then? Reveal the truth?” Puffy asks.

Wilbur nods. He turns to Tony. “You have a singular job, and that is to accompany Arianna and Loosha to the town square. We will be with you shortly. Don’t let Arianna be alone at this time.”

Tony salutes Wilbur, his eyes glittering. 

Wilbur glances over at Tommy and Puffy. “Come with me, you two. Not a moment to lose!”

*

“This is…”

Wilbur comes to a stop outside a facility, a factory of sorts. The factory appears more than rundown. Wilbur rattles the gate, sighing when he realizes that it has been locked tight.

Another puzzle lock, it seems.

<Puzzle: The Magic Paint>

Someone has been painting this square board in a rather patchy fashion. The board is 20cm wide, and the paintbrush 10cm. With every layer of paint, the surface gets darker. The colour code provided shows the number of layers needed to make each colour.

What is the minimum number of brushstrokes required to paint the pattern as shown?

Wilbur taps the correct number, five, into the number pad and the lock blinks open, allowing them past the gate. The factory is in a severe state of disuse. The walls are mainly rusted, the machinery sitting in corners and gathering dust. Cardboard boxes lie in a pile, bolts and screws spilling from inside. Weeds grow from cracks and splits in the walls and floors.

“Why are we here?” Puffy asks.

Silence. Save for their footsteps plodding through the muddy earth. The factory’s lights are still switched on, Puffy notices. Has someone been here recently?

“There’s another lock.”

Tommy bounds forward, inspecting the lock. It is as Puffy guesses it to be.

<Puzzle: Sweet Sums>

There are four jars: A, B, C and D. The number of sweets in jars A and B combined is exactly twice the number of sweets in jar C. At the same time, the total number of sweets in jars B and D is twice the number of sweets in jar A, but if you move three sweets from jar D to jar A, jar A will have twice as many sweets as jar B.

For simplification, the equations go like this:

• A + B = C + C
• B + D = A + A
• A + 3 = B + B

Which jar has six sweets?

Tommy gets the lock open after mulling over it a bit, arriving at the answer: C. They bust through the door, only to be met another large chamber, the machines it houses apparently in operation, clanking and whirring. A conveyor belt lies in front of them, transporting various kinds of metallic items further into the factory. Machine parts?

“What is all this?” Puffy wonders.

Wilbur shrugs. The next door lies beside the conveyor belt, locked in place with a puzzle.

<Puzzle: Bus Stop>

The buses on a particular route leave the times indicated on the bus stop’s timetable. The first column marks the hour and the next three mark the minutes. All the buses start at this bus stop and take exactly one hour to get back here. How many buses are necessary to cover all the bus departure times as indicated?

If they think about this systematically…

“It’s five.” Wilbur inputs the answer and the door swings inward, opening into the largest chamber of the entire factory so far. Machines stand off to its side, looking like misshapen robots, armed with claws and spiked feet and a rotund body. What is really eye-catching, however, is the giant robot in the middle of the chamber. It appears similar to the ones surrounding it, just bigger and that it has a seat equipped with a control panel.

“What are these?” Tommy cries, surveying the room, jaw agape.

“This is the second half of the spectre,” Wilbur says. “A machine used at the dig site in an attempt to find the Golden Garden.”

“So those claw marks were made by this machine?”

“And the shadows were simply the silhouettes of Loosha doing battle with this monster,” Wilbur says. “Loosha was merely protecting the town from the machine.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Puffy asks.

“I have a plan,” Wilbur says. “And you two are going to help me.”

Chapter Text

“Please! Stop!”

Wilbur arrives just in time to find Arianna and Tony standing before the crowd in Misthallery’s town square. Loosha is held in place by those thick ropes, battered body too exhausted to fight against the forces that keep her subdued.

“Loosha doesn’t mean any harm!” Tony shouts.

“Yeah, yeah, save your snivelling, you brats,” Jakes says, jangling a set of handcuffs by a finger. He turns to the crowd. “Look here! This is the frightening form of the spectre that has plagued our land!”

Wilbur jostles past the people, elbowing them aside and squeezing his way to the middle of the square.

“Stop right there, Jakes.”

Jakes squints at him. “Huh? What are you doing here?”

Wilbur spots Clark wearing a shocked expression, taking a step forward but held back by Roland.

“Loosha is not the aggravator in this situation,” Wilbur says, “and you of all people know it.”

“What are you talking about? Look at that thing! It’s clearly an abomination!” Jakes gestures at Loosha, who merely whines weakly in response.

“Your personality is more an abomination than Loosha ever will be,” Wilbur snaps. “And I have found the real spectre that has been destroying this town.”

“That’s impossible! Other than this monster, there isn’t anything else to find,” Jakes says, stabbing his sole against Loosha’s body. Loosha cries out.

Wilbur smiles as soon as he hears stomping, the gradual increase in volume satisfying to the ears. Moving down the wide streets with clunky, jerky movements is the giant machine they had found in the factory, with Puffy as its pilot.

The people part like the Red Sea as the machine makes its way to the centre of the town square, stopping right in front of Jakes.

“I present to you,” Wilbur says, addressing the crowd of townspeople, some in awe, some in fear, “the spectre of Misthallery.”

Now activated and no longer stationary, red eyes glaring, the machine appears even more fearsome than it had looked back in the factory. Puffy hops off the machine, feet tapping the ground as she lands.

“I’ve never seen anything like that in my life!” Jakes cries.

“Of course you haven’t,” Wilbur says. “You are not the mastermind behind this entire plot, after all.”

“What do you mean, mastermind?” Puffy asks, strutting over.

“Jakes does not have a brain big enough to have planned this all out in advance,” Wilbur says, shaking his head. “No, the real mastermind still hides among us, and I intend to expose his identity right here, right now.”

Puffy stiffens. Is Jakes not the one behind this devilish plot?

“And the real mastermind is you,” Wilbur says, stabbing a finger at Roland. “You are the one who seeks the Golden Garden, and to achieve your ends, would reduce Misthallery to the ground.”

Roland laughs uncertainly. “This must be a ruse, Professor. How can I possibly be the mastermind?”

“Professor!”

Wilbur spins on his heels, spying a young boy running over with two people in tow. Just in time. Tommy comes to a stop by the machine, accompanied by a woman who looks remarkably like him, and a man, the real Roland. Clark tears away from the fake Roland, the mystery man, and runs over to the woman, gathering her up in his arms.

“You’re right, Professor,” Tommy says breathlessly. “I found my mom and Roland in the cellar.”

Wilbur and Jakes turn to the mystery man, one looking for answers, the other looking for instructions. The mystery man cackles, voice changing dramatically, as he drops his disguise at last.

This man wears a white button-down with black pants, his face obscured by a gold-and-black mask. Wilbur narrows his eyes. Why does this man seem familiar?

“Who are you?” Wilbur asks.

“A man after the Golden Garden. You may address me as Techno Blade.” Techno smirks. “I’m impressed that you managed to find me out.”

“Putting the clues together, this is the only conclusion that I may draw,” Wilbur says. “Evan Barde’s death was no suicide – he owned the factory looking for the Golden Garden – and so he was murdered for it.”

“I did not murder anyone, if that is what you are implying.”

“No, the one who carried out the murder was Jakes,” Wilbur says. “Evan Barde was pushed from the bluff by his Manor, and so tumbled to his death.”

“What? I did no such thing!” Jakes cries indignantly.

“That was why Jakes was able to cover up the crime so easily, because he was the chief of police of Misthallery,” Wilbur says. “With the land now under the ownership of Barde’s children, you know that they can do nothing should you attempt to gain control of Evan Barde’s land and operation.”

“I see.” Techno claps. “Very good, Wilbur Soot, but you know what?”

Wilbur cocks his head.

“I am still after the Golden Garden, and I’m not leaving without it!” Raising a hand, Techno shouts, “Come to me!”

Rising from the rooftops, surrounding the town square, is an army of those digging machines, the miniature versions.

“What’s happening?” Ponk cries, swivelling on his heel.

Wilbur never imagined that Techno would have had the entire fleet of machines under his control. Speaking of which, where is that man…?

The biggest machine, the one that Puffy had piloted over to the town square, is also now Techno’s to command. Puffy barely has time to leap out of the way when the machine’s claw comes down hard on her, smashing into the ground where she stood.

Techno is serious.

“We have to stop it, Professor!” Puffy says.

Wilbur bites his lip. He knows that. But how…?

Pandemonium breaks out around the town square, the sea of panicked bodies washing past them like a wave. Ponk steps up suddenly, directing people away from the town square and away from danger.

“Tommy? Where are you going?” Clark’s voice can hardly be heard over the din of the chaos. A small shape runs right up to Wilbur and grabs his arm.

“What are we going to do, Professor?” Tommy asks. “If we don’t stop that crazy man, then…”

The ground rumbles, cutting Tommy off as the smaller machines stack upon themselves, forming elongated legs that the giant machine attaches to. In a matter of seconds, the machine that Techno pilots has become bigger, its reach significantly longer than before. It slices at the houses, carving deep gashes into their walls.

“I have a plan, but I am going to need the help of the Ravens,” Wilbur says. He opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Loosha’s cry as she frees herself from her confines with Arianna and Tony’s help, as well as several of the Ravens.

“Tommy, Puffy, I’m counting on you to weaken the machine,” Wilbur says. “Buy us some time!”

Wilbur does not wait for their responses and runs over to Crow, who is hurling a length of rope aside. “Crow, I need a favour from you, to rid Misthallery of this threat.”

Crow nods. “What do we need to do?”

“Gather up as many people as possible,” Wilbur says. “We are going to launch a full-on attack on the machine.”

*

Puffy launches herself at one of the machine’s legs, gritting her teeth as she ducks, dodging one of the machine’s brutal swings. The legs are weak at the joints, something that Tommy had noticed upon watching its movements.

Puffy shoves open the lid of the power box attached to its leg, grunting as it flies open with a creak. Stuffed within are coils of rubber-clad wires, tangled upon themselves.

She takes a deep breath. She is going to have to bust through this puzzle herself.

<Puzzle: Wire Cutter>

The wires in the switchboard are protected by hardened glass. The only access point is a small maintenance window through which Puffy can reach in and cut three wires. If she cuts the connection between terminal A and terminal F, the leg will be disabled. Cutting the wrong wire, however, may cause the machine to go berserk.

Which of the wires should she cut?

Wasting no time, Puffy whips out a switchblade knife from within her boot, slicing open the required wires. The electricity crackles from within, but the leg is rendered lame. Puffy leaps off the machine just as the leg tears away from the main body, the tinier machines tumbling to the ground in a pile.

She has to disable yet another leg in order to truly collapse this machine. Puffy leaps over a low-swinging drilling arm and attaches herself to the nearest leg like a koala, fumbling for the next fuse box. Yanking the lid open, she suppresses a groan as she realizes that it is locked with yet another puzzle.

<Puzzle: Enigmachine>

This switchboard has an emergency shutdown feature. Apparently, all Puffy has to do is to press the button marked with the symbol that should appear in place of the question mark. The symbols are arranged according to a certain rule.

Which button is it?

Puffy slams her finger on what she believes is the right button, praying with all her heart that it is so. The results are immediate. The machine’s second leg tumbles away, the main body now supported by only two legs left.

Puffy leaps away from where the machine strikes next. A flash of blue in the corner of her eye has Puffy glancing to her right, watching as Tommy rides atop Loosha’s back with Arianna and Tony in an effort to distract the metal monster.

<Puzzle: The Next Attack!>

The last fifteen of the digging machine’s attacks have been analysed. The image shows the spots where the attacks fell, and they have been marked with the number of the attack.

There seems to be a definite pattern here, and all Tommy needs to do is to figure out on which spot the next attack will land.

*

“Alright, I’m going to need you children to gather up some materials for me,” Wilbur says, the lead of his pencil scratching against the paper. The catapult is crudely-drawn, but there is no need for a detailed blueprint anyway. “Some of you will have to go and gather stones. Stones and boulders. Whatever rocks you can find.”

Crow directs the children efficiently, splitting them up into groups to tackle the different tasks. 

“We are not professional builders, but our catapult has to be able to launch heavy weights,” Wilbur says. He points to the bucket of the catapult. “Any idea what we can use for this?”

“There’s a boat rental shop nearby,” Crow says. He turns to Marilyn. “Go with Tweeds to get one.”

Marilyn salutes him and she and Tweeds run off. The rest of the catapult’s parts are decided quickly, each child sent off to retrieve the selected item. Very soon, they return, and now it is up to Wilbur to assemble it together.

<Puzzle: Wilbur ’ s Catapult>

With the parts shown, Wilbur and the Ravens must assemble the catapult, but it isn’t clear how they are supposed to fit together. Part A will be placed exactly as shown with no rotation. How do the other parts fit? Those can be rotated. Match the letters B, C and D to the ‘X’s in the diagram.

Louis finishes tying the counterweight to the catapult’s bucket. The other children are returning with the various stones, small- and medium-sized but they will do.

It is time they began loading.

*

At Tommy’s command, his shrill shriek ringing out in the town square, Loosha dodges the monster’s strike, the drill arrowing through the air and missing it by inches. Loosha sends her tail its way, knocking the machine clean off its remaining two legs.

This is her chance! Puffy makes a dash for the third leg, launching herself at it and shoving open the lid to the next switchboard.

<Puzzle: Redial>

To stop the machine, the correct button must be pushed from this pad of numbers, or the machine would move even faster than before. The instructions go as follows: starting from a certain digit or symbol on the pad, they must touch the number which is reachable by following this set of directions:

From the first digit, you must move down, right, down, left, down, left, up and right. Which digit should Puffy press?

Puffy stabs the button and the switchboard blinks before sinking into darkness, causing the machines to fall apart. Left with one leg, the machine topples, its huge body shuddering before crashing painfully to the ground.

“Get out of the way!”

Wilbur’s voice booms across the valleys, giving Puffy, Loosha and those she ferries enough time to swerve aside, avoiding the first volley of stones and rocks.

The rocks and boulders batter the body of the machine, smashing and denting. The machine falls apart at the seams, Techno hurled against the protective lid of the pilot’s seat as the machine crumbles.

“Is it…We did it!” Tommy cries, leaping from atop Loosha’s body, sliding off its glistening body. Arianna and Tony follow suit, standing beside Loosha, watching the machine with sparkling eyes.

That hope, that triumph, is short-lived.

Techno pulls a lever, and the machine’s legs extend once more. The miniature machines that survived the onslaught crawl back to its main body, stacking upon themselves again to form its legs once more. While shorter, the machine is no less fearsome.

The machine makes a mammoth leap at the makeshift catapult that had inflicted the barrage, destroying it in one fell swoop.

“Techno Blade never dies, Wilbur Soot,” Techno says, manoeuvring the machine such that it faces Wilbur, Crow by his side, the rest of the children having scattered in fear. “Don’t think you can outsmart me just yet!”

Loosha wails, slamming its entire body into that of the machine. Techno merely presses a few buttons, digging the spiral of its drill into Loosha’s body, sending Loosha flying into a row of houses.

“Loosha!”

“Arianna, we have to run!” Tony grabs Arianna’s arms, pulling her away from Loosha, but the creature is drained and heavily injured from its battle with the machine the night before. There is no way it is able to defeat a machine of this size and calibre.

“Well, I’m not going to bother with this useless hunk,” Techno says, voice echoing throughout the town square. He turns his attention to Wilbur. “I will not let you interfere with my plans, Wilbur Soot. Not anymore.”

The machine makes a dive for Wilbur and Crow. Wilbur pushes Crow aside, away from the slash of the drill. What are they going to do now? It does not look like the machine would stop until it has ravaged all of Misthallery.

Before Puffy can do anything, Loosha cries out and begins to drag its exhausted body towards the north of the plaza, away from where Wilbur and Techno are currently engaged in a one-sided fight, and towards Highyard Arch.

“Loosha? Where are you going?” Arianna asks, jogging after her friend.

It is not until Loosha has made it past Highyard Arch, towards the large wooden gate of the dam that Puffy realizes what she is trying to do. Loosha rams her body against the gate, the giant gate barely budging. With another slam, the planks begin to splinter.

“We have to help Loosha,” Puffy says. “Come on! There has got to be a way to get this dam open!”

“This way!” Tommy leads them over to a small post by the gate. He wrenches the doorknob, only to be met with the uncooperative rattle of metal. It is locked in place, and what else can impede their movement but that of a puzzle?

<Puzzle: A Token Puzzle>

In a particular auction house, it is not safe to carry around large sums of money, so this establishment offers tokens in exchange for money.

Heart tokens are worth £5, 000, clubs are worth £10, 000 and diamonds £50, 000.

Sixteen buyers each have one token and have been seated in four rows of four. The sum of the tokens in each row and column are shown in thousands of pounds on the side and at the bottom.

Which token is each buyer holding?

Tommy mutters the numbers under his breath, and Puffy can almost see the cogs grinding in his head. The lock clicks open easily, allowing them access into the post with the levers.

At this point, the dam has been damaged enough such that water has began to rush through the tiny holes in the logs, the leaking dam spraying the stone path. Loosha rams her body once more against the dam’s gate.

“Arianna! Tony! Loosha! Look out!” Puffy shouts as Tommy pulls the lever.

The dam’s gate rises, allowing the reservoir of water to burst forth, flooding the streets. It splashes down the hills, the wave of water gushing towards the town square, where Techno and Wilbur are still occupied by their little scuffle.

The water crashes into the town square like a harbour wave, the ginormous force of the water knocking Techno’s machine off its feet. The machine smashes into the nearby shops, electricity buzzing as the water seeps into its most fragile parts.

The glass hatch of the machine is now shattered, leaving Techno vulnerable to the elements. “Phil! A little help here!” Techno snarls.

Who is Techno calling for? Does he have backup?

The whirring of a chopper’s blades above their heads alerts them to yet another presence. A shadow falls over them from the skies above, and Puffy glances up to catch sight of an actual chopper swooping in from the clouds.

“Grab the rope, you fuck!”

Whatever happens next happens so fast that no one has any time to respond. A rope ladder descends from the chopper, flapping in the wind.

“Wait!” Wilbur exclaims, making a grab for Techno’s arm. He misses, and Techno is lifted into the air, fingers grasping the rope ladder tight.

“See ya, idiots!” Techno hollers as the chopper ascends, taking the rope ladder with it. The vehicle disappears, almost as if it had been nothing but an illusion.

“Professor!” Tommy bounds down the path, nearly slipping on the puddles of water left by the reservoir. “Professor! Are you alright?”

“I’m…fine,” Wilbur says, adjusting his coat, which had gotten rather soaked from the cascade of water. “What about the two of you?”

“Never better,” Puffy says, puffing her chest out.

“And…” Wilbur lifts his head the same moment Loosha emits a low noise, dragging herself past the wooden gates and into the drained reservoir.

“Loosha! You have to rest!” Arianna runs after her, ever so tiny against Loosha’s massive bulk. She and Tony hug Loosha, throwing their arms around her, but their efforts are more than ineffective.

“Loosha wants us to follow her,” Tommy says. “Come on.”

“You can speak to Loosha?” Puffy asks.

Tommy jogs back up the hill, headed for the centre of the dirt pit where the water had once been. In its centre is a golden emblem, looking quite like a fanciful manhole cover, apart from the fact that it is engraved with intricate birds and flowers. The rim of the emblem is etched with ancient symbols.

“This is…” Wilbur’s frown morphs into a snarl. “This can’t be.”

“Wilbur?”

Wilbur schools his expression, then kneels down, ignoring the query. With Puffy and Tommy’s help, he lifts the emblem. The emblem scrapes the earth as they toss it aside, revealing a flight of staircase formed from the earth that would take them further and further underground. Could this be where…?

There is only one way to find out.

Loosha is the first to wriggle through the hole, her body barely fitting through the space. She is quickly joined by Arianna and Tony, before Wilbur, Tommy and Puffy tread carefully down the stairs.

It is as if there is no end to the staircase, spiralling down deep towards the core of the earth. Loosha’s weak cry echoes through the chamber, and in the next moment, Puffy is greeted with a sight that simply astonishes her.

The garden that presents itself is sparkling, shimmering water hiding glowing stones, bioluminescent moss growing along the sides of the crystalline walls. Plants and bugs that Puffy has never seen before populate the garden. The air is refreshing, just like a spring breeze.

This place is positively magical.

“So this is the Golden Garden.” Tommy stares in awe, unable to comprehend that something so amazing, something so magnificent could be hiding underneath the town he calls home. Something that had remained a legend till now.

“Wilbur?”

Wilbur does not seem to be enjoying the view as much as they. Instead, he stares at an inscription on the wall, carved of characters that Puffy has never chanced upon before. Wilbur does not reply. He bites his lip, a troubled expression on his face.

Just then, Arianna’s worried tone draws Puffy’s attention.

“Loosha?”

Arianna and Tony are gathered by the bank of the river, where Loosha seems to be resting. She can hardly raise her head now, letting her fins and flippers glide with the water.

“Loosha, you can’t go.”

Arianna’s tiny body is draped around Loosha’s neck, embracing her friend as if her life depends on it. Tony is bawling, rubbing at his eyes, kneeling beside Loosha.

“Please! You can’t!”

Loosha’s gaze is warm, such a human expression from a mystical creature of legend. Her lids flutter shut for the last time, and her body begins to flow with the water, down the endless stream, two broken children crying for their friend. 

“She is in a better place now,” Puffy says, walking over to the children and ruffling their hair. “Loosha probably wanted to thank you too for being such good friends with her.”

Arianna clings onto Puffy as tightly as she had Loosha, face buried in her shoulder. Puffy strokes her back lightly, humming a tune that they know all too well. Every single one of the people gathered here.

Puffy hums the spectre’s song, the song that bound the Barde children to Loosha, the song of friendship that would live on for years to come. No matter how far they are apart, through space and time, life and death, they will remain friends.

Now, it is truly time to close the curtain to this tragic tale.

Chapter Text

It is time to leave Misthallery, for good this time. Wilbur leans against the side of his car, a cup of coffee in hand as he and Puffy wait for their third companion.

Clark had thanked them, Wilbur and Puffy, for helping them solve the mystery of the spectre and prevented Misthallery’s annihilation. He apologized for not telling them about his situation sooner – that Techno had disguised himself as Roland and taken his wife and butler hostage.

Ponk had left earlier in the day, having summoned his men from London to round Jakes and his officers up to take them to Scotland Yard. Jakes would be tried for murder in court.

“There he is.”

Puffy glances over to the small shape running down the hilly path, his tiny rucksack bumping against the small of his back. He is accompanied by three children, all of whom they are familiar with.

“I thought Clark would come with you,” Wilbur says. Tommy grabs his kneecaps, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

“He said he trusts you,” Tommy says between pants. “And, uh, I brought company.”

Arianna smiles bashfully, and Tony scratches his head. Crow tips his hat with a smirk.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done for us,” Arianna says with a slight bow. “For Misthallery, and for Loosha. The Golden Garden will remain a secret from the people of Misthallery. I can assure you of that.”

“And speaking of the Golden Garden, Arianna coughs less when she spends time down there,” Tony says, flapping his arms excitedly. “Maybe it’s the air or something, but she might be cured!”

Puffy claps her hands, rubbing at their heads. “That’s great! Be sure to write and send good news!”

“You’re really leaving?” Crow asks, turning to Tommy.

Tommy nods. “I’m going to be the Professor’s assistant.”

Wilbur chokes on his coffee.

“Excuse you, I’m already his assistant,” Puffy huffs.

“Then I’ll be the Professor’s apprentice!”

“Get-” Wilbur wheezes. Crow hands him a packet of grubby tissues. “Get in the car before I have to resort to violence.”

Puffy checks the straps one more time – the straps keeping her motorcycle balanced atop Wilbur’s ancient vehicle – before getting into the front seat. Tommy settles in the back, and Wilbur takes the wheel.

Even as the car splutters away, along the road back to London, Puffy is unable to quell the excitement that has taken root within her heart. That had been one hell of an exhilarating adventure.

“So, Professor, are we-”

“Wilbur,” Wilbur says, keeping his eyes on the road. “You may call me Wilbur.”

Puffy blinks. “So, Wilbur-”

“Can I call you Wilbur too?” Tommy asks loudly.

Wilbur considers this for a moment, then sighs. “I suppose you can.”

“Okay, big man Wilbur Soot.”

Puffy laughs as the car trundles onwards, back onto familiar asphalt, scenery rushing by them.

Now, where will adventure take them next?

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: 

A Secret Message: 

If you notice, the letters on the leftmost side of the letter spell "Help SOS" when read vertically.

Chapter 2:

How Old? 

We know that the youngest child, Nat, is one year old, because the letter was written in April and her birthday is in March. The remaining ages that we need to guess are Kat and Pat's ages. Looking at the other two equations, we note that the ages of Kat and Pat multiplied = 36 while their age added = 12. The only combination that works would be 6 and 6. Kat and Pat are the same age.

Puzzle Battle vs Tommy Innit: 

"You can do nothing to solve this puzzle." Literally, the only thing they can do is "nothing". Therefore, they just had to stand outside.

Mopping Up 

Use the fourth mop every nine days, allowing you to use nine mops to clear twenty-seven days, and using the fourth mop once every nine days allows you to use it on the 10th, the 20th and the 30th day, without having to wait for it to dry! 

Chapter 3: 

Faulty Streetlights

No matter how many bulbs need replacing, none of the bulbs would be lit twelve hours from the nighttime because then it would be bright out and all the lights would switch off anyway.

How Many Ones? 

No way around this one. What you can do is to list all of them out: 

1                                                                                            -> 1
10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19                                    -> 1 + 11 = 12
21, 31, 41, 51, 61, 71, 81, 91                                                -> 12 + 8 = 20
100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109                -> 20 + 11 = 31
110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120        -> 31 + 22 = 53

Angle Anguish

It has to be 15:55! 

Chapter 4: 

Cracked Clock: 

One method is to find the sum of all the numbers from 1 to 12 and divide by 2 to get the sum that is supposed to be on either half of the clock face. From there, it's a matter of trial and error or intuition 

Eating Point: 

Restaurant A is the only restaurant that fits all the requirements

Favourite Umbrella: 

The first two requirements are easy enough to fulfill, but the trick to the final requirement is that when Umbrella A opens up, it would form rings of circles!

Paper pair: 

Floating Cottages

The couple should take the boat to cottage D! By starting at a cottage with an odd number of bridges, they are sure to be able to return after crossing all the bridges once.

Which Doll? 

Flip the door around vertically. The current doll's head is now hidden by the dress, and the hands of the current doll becomes its feet. 

Crawling the Web

The trick the spider uses is that whenever it meets a thread that connects outwards, it will take that thread until it hits the next horizontal thread! 

Chapter 5: 

The Coded Door

From the first equation,  we know that the start can either be 2 or 3, where 2 x 2 = 4 (club = 4) and 3 x 3 = 9 (club = 9)
Using equation 2, we realize the star cannot be 2, because 2 x 4 = 6, which is not a two-digit number. Therefore, star = 3, club = 9.
That means that using the second equation, 3 x 9 = 27, so diamond = 2 and spade = 7
Now knowing that spade = 7, 7 x moon = circle-triangle, three symbols not yet seen. The only number that the moon can fulfill that ensures that none of the used digits is used again is 8, because 7 x 8 = 56, where neither digits 5 and 6 have been made use of yet.

Candy Counter:

Once you noticed that the tails of the clubs and spades aren't quite the same, you notice that those spiky-looking ones are actually the diamond-shaped sweets but broken in half. 

Chapter 6: 

Find the File

I believe this is a matter of brute force if I'm being honest...

Chapter 7: 

Good Neighbours

From the first condition, we know that A lives west of B, i.e., on the left.  
From the second condition, we know that the person with the red roof lives to the right of the one with the yellow roof. 
From the third  condition, we know that A does not have the blue roof, and that the one with the blue roof lives to the left of A. Therefore, since B is already living to A's right, C must live left of A. That also means that C has the blue roof. Given the current arrangements, it is safe to say that A has the yellow roof and B has the red roof.

Final conclusion: C (blue), A (yellow), B (red)

Escape Route

The Magic Paint

To paint that particular pattern, the brush must first paint the entirety of the wooden slab. Given the dimensions of the slab, 2 brushstrokes are needed. Now, an additional 2 brushstrokes are required to paint over the pink portion to generate the orange portions. Finally, one final brushstroke is required to paint that brown portion. 

Sweet Sums: 

The trick here is to realize that you need to add two odd numbers to get an even number. It is necessary to note that C + C and A + A from the first two equations would generate even numbers. That also means that A, B and D contain odd numbered sweets. We know this because transferring 3, an odd number of sweets, to jar A should only generate an even number of sweets (B+B) if the number of sweets in A is odd. Therefore, the jar that contains 6 sweets (an even number) must be C.

Bus Stop: 

Five buses are required! Four buses aren't quite enough...

Chapter 8: 

Wire Cutter

The trick here is to notice that the wire you want to cut passes through that portion twice. Therefore, you need to cut the wire twice in order to successfully kill the machine! 

Enigmachine

The five symbols on the pentagon's edges are made up of the two corner symbols that lie neither adjacent to nor directly opposite them. In this case, the circle and the triangle symbols combine to reveal the identity of the button. 

The Next Attack!

What to notice is that the second attack was 2 squares from the first, the third attack 3 squares from the second, and so on. Counting sixteen squares from the fifteenth attack, we realize that the sixteenth attack would be just where the fifteenth had taken place...

Redial: 

The only button that can fit the mentioned route is 2 without the finger leaving the panel of buttons.

A Token Puzzle:

It is easy to work out once you realize that column C has four heart tokens.