Frankenstein's Guide (Book 1, the LiteraTours Cozy Mystery Series)

Chapter 1 - On the Run

Image by Sebastian Unrau from Unsplash

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Fog blurred the rough bark of the trees lining the path, a pea-soup so thick it could easily conceal an army of monsters. Greedy tendrils of grey billowed towards Ike, swallowing the soft slapping sounds made by her trainers as she panted uphill, back towards the castle. Only an hour ago, sunshine had flooded the hilltop, the glorious reds, oranges, and yellows of the woods around Frankenstein glowing with a painful brightness—a visual raspberry from Mother Nature who had been about to pull the rug from under her feet.

And hey, presto, now the light was gone, leaving behind nothing but milky obscurity and the scent of wet leaves, decaying soil, and the fungus lurking underneath. Of all the seasons, autumn was the one Ike detested most. It started off colourful, with blue skies and warm days that duped people into forgetting that the light was about to check out, not to return until half a year later. There were no two ways about it—winter was around the corner, offering nothing but gales, express-delivered from the Arctic, and the oblivion of endless nights. At least winter was honest. What you saw was what you got.

Her left trainer slipped on a wet stone, and Ike tilted towards the nearest tree. It caught her fall but chafed her hand.

"Oh, blast!"

Sucking at her throbbing palm, she stumbled along a path so steep, every breath stabbed her lungs.

Those idiot professors.

Three Oxford dons, another three from Cambridge, hell-bent on making her life even more difficult than it already was. If two of them hadn't strayed, she wouldn't be out here.

From their test run, she knew the path would level out before the final ascent that the locals with their home brand of ham-fisted humour called "Stairway to Heaven". Unless the resident spooks had gobbled up the steps together with the rest of the previously picturesque landscape, Ike should soon hit upon the final climb that would land her right at the castle gate and, next to it, the excavations of the old alchemy lab. Discovered only recently, the ruined laboratory was a highlight of the LiteraTours foray into Frankenstein country, and it had apparently proven too much a lure for the two missing profs.

Hopefully. For Ike didn't have a clue where else to look for the buggers. Or, worse even, what would happen if, heavens forbid, she didn't find them.

It was no longer possible to ignore the stitch in her heaving sides, so she slowed down, forcing herself to draw in carefully measured breaths of air on the verge of congealing.

As Ike trudged on upwards, the events of the recent past rose with her.

When she invested all the cash left over from the wreck of her marriage into becoming a partner at Litera Tours, she had seen herself in a managerial role, never as an actual tour guide. Until the guy earmarked for the trip had bailed at the last minute. And did his lordship shift his noble bottom onto the nearest plane to parachute in for rescue? Like heck he did. Instead, he had used that oh-so-calm voice of his to explain why Ike should be the chosen one.

"Gary, my German is pretty rusty."

"Well, congratulations, mine is non-existent. And, if I may remind you, I studied business administration, not literature."

"So what? There's crash courses on YouTube. They'll teach you all you need to know. I've got no clue about tour-guiding. Talk about a disaster in the making."

"Brigitte will be with you. She knows more about the business than you could ever forget."

"Thanks, mate. Just out of interest: Why would a middle-aged French lady be keen on driving huge big coaches?"