The Wizard's Guide to Timelords and Other Demons Book 1: The Forgotten War

A Riddle For The Beast

An icy wall of freezing air shot across the room and struck Eleanor's face like a hammer. The door to the pub had just flown wide open and a tall man in a black, winter coat stood in the doorway, peering into the small establishment.

"Please close the door quickly," Eleanor called to the man, using her most polite barmaid voice.

"Oh, my apologies Miss," the man said, quickly closing the door behind him. He made his way to an empty table and sat down on one of the chairs that encircled it.

The Hanged Man tavern had seen few customers that evening, likely because of the weather, which was the coldest Eleanor had experienced in over a decade. Years ago, it had been the only pub in Little Hangleton and enjoyed quite a lot of business; some from the locals but mostly from workers in Great Hangleton, a few miles away, wanting to escape the hustle and bustle of the "big" town. These days there were two other taverns in the small village for them to choose from so the Eleanor's clientele had diminished quite a bit.

For the last few years, Eleanor had managed the tiny pub for her aging grandmother, Dot, who had purchased the quaint old pub from its previous owner about 30 years ago. Grandmother Dot was in her mid-eighties now and spent most of her time at home in bed, leaving Eleanor to run things by herself. It was long hours of hard work and left little time for other social activities which a young, attractive woman her age should be engaged in at this time in her life.

Someday, she sighed.

Eleanor returned her attention to the customer who had just entered. It was not customary for a barmaid to approach patrons seated at a table rather than at the bar, but she was feeling particularly bored this evening and was hoping for a little conversation. The solitary customer currently sitting at the bar was clearly immersed in a deep relationship with his lager, so Eleanor decided it was ok to step away for a few moments.

Eleanor made her way from behind the hardwood bar top and casually sauntered over to the table where the man with the black coat was sitting. He was reading a newspaper that had been left on the table by an earlier customer. He was a young man, perhaps in his late twenties just as she was. He was tall with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a strong jaw. Eleanor found him quite handsome.

"Something from the bar, sir?", she asked with all the charm she could muster.

The man looked up from the paper and smiled. "Just a coffee, please miss. Black. Thank you." The man continued to stare up at her smiling as she turned and started off to get his drink.

A polite one, Eleanor thought, a glimmer of interest beginning to stir within her.

"Just a minute miss," the man said, "perhaps you could help me with something else?"

Eleanor turned back to face the man and listened attentively as he continued.

"My name is Toby Zed. I'm an archeologist working with the Walker Foundation in Manchester."

And a company man too, she thought, becoming more interested by the minute.

He handed her a business card, which she received enthusiastically, then he continued.

"I have been directed by my employer to research an old residence in this village. It's called Riddle Manor, have you heard of it? I was hoping you could share with me a few things about its history."

Indeed, she had heard of it, and not just because it was the largest and most well-known house in all of Little Hangleton. Eleanor politely introduced herself and then rehearsed to the young man all that her grandmother had told her over the years.

Many years ago, the Riddles had been a very prominent family in the village, though they were rather snobby and not well liked. She explained how the entire Riddle family had been murdered in the home back in the 1943. Their gardener, Frank Bryce, had been arrested for the killings but was released soon after because of a lack of evidence. The case was never solved. But to this day, Grandmother Dot insisted that it was Frank who had perpetrated the horrendous crime.