The Wrath of Oberon

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Cold sweat was the first thing Toby registered when his nightmare woke him. With unfocused vision, he gazed at the bedroom ceiling, unable to fall back to sleep.

It was two days before Christmas and London was peaceful, thanks to his heroics. His bedroom, on the third floor of his parents’ Chelsea townhouse, was comfortable – luxurious, compared to the workhouse where he was raised. His home was all rich timbers and antique playthings, warm and secure. On the surface, his world looked ideal. He was loved. He was safe. He was part of a family. Yet, he couldn’t settle.

I should check the snow globe, he thought.

The magical gift from his friend Nicko always comforted him. It contained a tiny Big Top in a perpetual snowstorm. As long as the snow kept falling, his friends at The Winter Freak Show were safe. He had only left them a few hours ago, after their battle with a sect of shapeshifters called changelings. But he had to put his mind at ease.

He threw aside a nest of twisted blankets and rummaged in his bedside cabinet. Quills, a wooden puzzle game, his father’s silver pocket watch, but no globe.

Toby frowned. He must have left it downstairs in the drawing room. Unhooking his dressing gown from the door, he made his way downstairs, taking care not to creak the floorboards.

The lower floors were dark, dim gaslight from the streetlamps outside providing the only source of light. It didn’t bother him. Not when greater fears were knocking over an antique vase or forgetting to complete his homework. Monsters made no sense in such a setting. It was for that reason he didn’t notice the mountainous man inspecting his mother’s bone china until he was already several paces into the lounge.

Panic sparked and instinctively he dropped behind his father’s Winchester armchair. He knelt there, eyes wide, heart pounding. Suddenly, he wasn’t tired.

Did he see me?

Judging from the soft clink of a china cup being returned to its tray, he guessed yes. Already he was imagining the black-clad figure scrutinising the room. His outline had been large, with broad shoulders and a mess of bulky robes.

Could it be Hans Trapp?

The infamous European child-eater was big enough, but how could he have found his home? Only hours ago, he had been carted away by Toby’s allies after Toby blasted him with Nicko’s Time Globe. Nobody could recover from that and find him to enact their revenge so soon, surely?

Don’t get ahead of yourself, he thought. Probably just a burglar. I should call Father.

A thin smirk crept across his face. He flexed his hand, ready to tap into his magic. His fingers were completely still. Calm. Once upon a time they would have trembled. Not any more.

He already knew he wouldn’t call his father. After fighting a troop of shapeshifters, a human attacker seemed laughable. The magic he always felt whenever he spent time with the elves still coursed through his body. He could disable the man long before his father put on his slippers.

And, if the intruder was a mystery assassin, there wasn’t much John Thornton could do anyway. Toby was the only person even remotely qualified to deal with a supernatural threat. His family didn’t know magic existed, never mind how to cope with such an attack.

Decision made. Toby shifted his weight and breathed deeply to psych himself up for what he was about to do.

Three.

Two.

One.

Without warning the leather seat he was hiding behind upturned and he lost his balance. A flash of blue fire sent his vision into a kaleidoscope, and a large hand closed around his fist. It suppressed his magic. Pain exploded in his neck as his head hit the floorboards.

‘Get off me!’ He struggled, but the intruder was too heavy to overpower.

‘Toby? You’re alive, my boy! I was so worried.’ It was Nicko. All at once, the pressure eased off his chest and the ringmaster plopped himself down on the rug.

‘You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

‘I nearly gave you a heart attack?’

Toby’s eyes were still dazzled by the flash. Behind stars, Nicko smiled, his wavy beard, the colour of snowy owl feathers, arched beneath his crimson cheeks. His face, normally rosy, was pale.

‘What are you doing here?’ Toby whispered. Although, after the tumbling armchair failed to stir his family, he wondered why he bothered.

Nicko blanched. ‘It’s a long story, Toby. I’d need to take you away from this place to explain properly.’

‘I’ve only been gone a few hours! What could possibly have happened?’

‘Well…’ Nicko cleared his throat.

‘Keep your voice down! Father has an art exhibition in the morning.’

Nicko waved a dismissive hand. ‘My boy, I’ve shrouded the house in sleep. A hunting horn couldn’t wake him.’

‘Then why am I awake?’

‘Because… Err.’ Nicko’s grandfatherly expression faded. ‘Curious.’

Reaching inside the plumb-coloured waistcoat he wore under his coat, he pulled out a glinting trinket on a fob. Toby recognised the seidhrometer. Resembling a pocket watch, it measured Christmas spirit – the fuel that kept magic flowing and Nicko alive. The elves depended on it.

‘What is it?’ Toby asked.

‘A problem.’ Nicko banged the side of the seidhrometer. ‘Blasted thing keeps telling me Christmas spirit is low. I thought it was broken but it makes sense now. Something big must have shifted the balance.’ His face fell slack. ‘Oh. I’m already too late.’ He stood up. ‘We have less time than I thought.’

‘Time for what?

‘They’re coming.’

‘Who?’ Toby perched, his brain reeling. Still aching from the battle in the sewers, he knew now why he couldn’t sleep. The magic coursing through him allowed his muscles to sense the oncoming danger. ‘Who’s coming, Nicko?’

‘The elves.’

He wrinkled his nose. The elves of The Winter Freak Show were his friends. When Nicko scooped him out of the snow after he escaped the workhouse, they were the ones who rallied behind him. They helped him save Christmas.

‘They’re after me,’ Nicko explained.

Toby’s eyes had grown used to the dim light by now. He noticed a circle of bruising around Nicko’s right eye and unsightly burn marks on his clothes. He had been in a fight. The waxy skin made sense now. He was rattled. And if Nicko was rattled, Toby should be too.

‘I’ve got something to tell you, my boy,’ he said. ‘Please don’t be alarmed.’

‘OK.’

‘The elves have turned against me. I have a feeling they’re coming for you too.’

Toby couldn’t supress his shock. ‘But I thought you were making up for that lie you told. I didn’t even have anything to do with it.’

‘That’s not it. They haven’t rebelled. They’ve gone mad. I think it might have something to do with the changelings. I barely got out alive.’

‘The changelings? We beat them.’

‘No. They tricked us, Toby. My Time Globe’s gone.’ The arachnid feet of worry ran across Toby’s shoulders.

‘You think they’re going to try and free him?’ He saw Nicko’s expression solidify and realised the horrible truth. ‘No! They’ve already done it.’

Nicko nodded. ‘I fear they have.’

‘Then that means I’m public enemy number two!’

‘And that’s why I’m here. To warn you.’

Toby took a step back and glanced at the room’s bay window. ‘Warn me? What can I do? My family are upstairs, and you led the changelings here? How could you be so stupid? We have to tell them the truth now, about magic and everything. You’ll have to do it.’

Nicko sighed. ‘That’s just it, Toby. I don’t think I’ll need to. Your family’s already been breached. It appears the betrayal came from inside this house.’

‘I… I don’t understand.’ Toby fell silent. All at once it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. ‘That can’t be true.’

Nicko lowered his gaze. ‘It is.’