The Eternal Investigator: An Oxford Key Mysteries Novella by Lynn Morrison

Author:Lynn Morrison [Morrison, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Marketing Chair Press
Published: 2021-02-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

A faint pink colour appears on the horizon, barely visible through the open curtains of Penny’s home. As I fold the last bedsheet into a neat bundle, I cast my mind back. A memory emerges of a late night during my last year of university. I was here in Oxford. Together with a few of my best mates, we had snuck out of the college shortly before the dawn to take a dip in the Cherwell. Mostly I remember how cold and dark the waters were, but the sunrise over University Parks had been gorgeous.

The sound of movements upstairs confirm that I am not the only one awake. It is time for me to depart, there is no more here to discover. I concentrate my attention on a single thought and less than a second later, I am standing on the banks of the Cherwell with the university playing fields at my back.

Perhaps the morning light will bring clarity of thought. I am certainly in need of inspiration if I hope to solve the mystery of the missing funds. There is something, no, someone I am overlooking. But for the life of me, I cannot think who it might be.

I spin around, surveying the nearby pathway until I spot a wooden bench. It beckons me to stretch along its length and doze in the shadows of the leafy branches hanging above it, so I do just that. My eyes ignore my pleas to remain open long enough to see the sunrise. The cool shadows lull me into a restful state. I close my eyes to reflect on the mystery.

The next thing I know, a sharp claw pokes into my shoulder and I’m sure I smell smoke. “Oi, bruv, ya can’t sleep ‘ere. Ya’ll wake up wiff a pair of fellows sittin’ on ya iffen ya aren’t careful.”

I open one eye into a squint, spying a long, black snout and a pair of bright yellow cat eyes staring at me. I flail my arms in my desperate scramble to get away from the beast, causing myself to tumble off the bench and land facedown on the dirt path.

“I must have fallen asleep, but what a strange way to awake,” I mumble to myself as I climb to my feet. A gruff mutter sounds from behind me. I turn around, very slowly, to find a small dragon sitting atop the very bench where I had been laying.

“Yer new, aren’t ya?” the creature asks, eyeing me from head to toe. “Yer clothes don’t look out of place, so I’m guessing you recently met yer end. Do ya always stand around wiff yer mouth ‘anging open?”

“I, err, no. But, um, sorry, what are you?”

“I’m H, yer friendly Eternal wyvern. At yer service.” He ends the sentence with a small bow, his grey wings flaring out behind him. My mind trips over the word Eternal. Can it be?

“You’re an Eternal? With a capital E?”

“Ya, same as ya are, I imagine. I was a gargoyle at tha Bodleian until my carving started ta fade away.

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