“An aura?” Lamb asked. “What kind of detective are you?”
“I am an investigator of unexplained phenomena. My domain is the eldritch and the extraordinary.” Jackaby stood. His expression bespoke a building enthusiasm. “Your missing foot is most peculiar indeed, Mr. Lamb—or else there is something even more peculiar afoot. Tell me about this dinosaur of yours.”
“I’ll tell you nothing, thanks—not around him.” Lamb looked down his nose meaningfully at Horner, who rolled his eyes and threw up his hands.
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” I said. “Just a moment ago, Mr. Lamb, you were convinced that Mr. Horner planted the whole skeleton as a ruse. If he’s the mastermind behind all this, then what harm is there in telling him what he already knows?”
“Wait, what?” Horner said, facing Lamb. “Now you’re accusing me of putting the bones there in the first place? I thought you were accusing me of taking them!”
“Don’t pretend to be—,” Lamb began.
“It’s got wings,” said Nellie, loudly. “Oops. I guess it’s out now, and you boys can stop quibbling about it. That thing on the hill has wings, Mr. Jackaby. Really big ones.” Lamb glared daggers at the reporter, but she just shrugged innocently.
“That’s impossible,” said Horner.
“We’ve reached that point already,” I said.
“It couldn’t . . . It isn’t . . . It can’t possibly—,” he said.
“Yes, we’ve done that bit already, too,” I said. “But it does, and it is, and it can.”
“It’s easily fifty feet long!” said Horner.
Jackaby had been watching the exchange with interest. “I suspect the remains are not so deeply buried as your typical dinosaur?” he asked.
“Remarkably near the surface, actually,” I said. “How did you—”
“Any signs of wildfires around the skeleton?”
“Ash in the surrounding sediment,” I confirmed.
“Mr. Barker, didn’t you say something about flint in the area of its stomach? Of course—it makes perfect sense. I must be dense for missing it earlier.”
Lamb was scowling. “What do you know about my dinosaur?”
Jackaby smiled. “I know you haven’t got one.”
“Excuse me?” Lamb said.
“You’ve got something worlds more exciting,” Jackaby said. His eyes flashed with a dangerous zeal. “You’ve got a dragon.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Hudson’s bristly beard split into a wide grin. Lamb looked incredulous. Nellie opened her mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again. “A dragon?” said Charlie.
“All of the evidence fits. Dragons were known to swallow flint to generate the spark they needed to breathe fire. The beast’s presence in Gad’s Valley is somewhat surprising, as most dragons of the size you’re describing are reported to have lived around Great Britain and Germany—but migratory cryptozoology is an imprecise science. One thing is clear: their kind went extinct centuries ago. Far more recently than dinosaurs, of course, which accounts for its being nearer the surface. A few endangered Chinese breeds still exist today. The living Eastern varieties are much smaller, of course. More like snakes. Beautiful scales.”
“Do you think this is a joke?” Lamb spat.
“No,” said Jackaby. “Although I did employ a rather droll play on words earlier. You may have missed it. You see, the word afoot and the—”
“You’re either a madman or an idiot. You’re not a detective, with your auras and dragons. Was that a crystal ball you were looking through when we arrived?”
“A scrying glass. I’ve never had much luck with crystal.”