Simon uttered another runic word. He grasped the heavy billiard table. He picked it up as he would a child’s toy and swung it at the werewolf. The billiard table slammed into the creature, sending it careening into the opposite wall hard enough to bring down paintings and leave a large crater in the plaster.
The werewolf scattered the smashed portraits in its fury, bellowing and trying to rise again to its full height. Simon did not permit this. The mahogany table swung again and caught the monster full in the face, snapping its head around with a spurt of blood and dislodged canines. The beast licked the blood dripping down its snout and fixed fiery eyes on Simon.
Nick shoved himself to his hands and knees, speaking in a harsh guttural language that was nothing like the fluid and almost poetic words that had passed across Simon’s lips. The air in the room flinched.
Simon glared at his partner, about to issue a warning, but it was too late. A sickly yellow-green smoke began to build around the beast. The werewolf swatted at it, fear beginning to show in its blazing eyes. The smoke engulfed it and the beast writhed. It staggered and fumbled weakly against an overturned divan.
“Now!” Nick rasped, collapsing to the floor.
Simon swung his massive weapon once more. The audible crunch of bones filled the room. Simon battered the helpless creature twice more at full force, smashing off chunks of the billiard table in the process. The beast went limp on the rug under the mahogany wreckage.
The werewolf was dead.
Simon staggered back and dropped what was left of the billiard table heavily to the floor. Kate lowered her dripping sword, breathing hard. He stared at her flushed face and victorious gleam.
“Mad dog?” he intoned with a bemused cock of his head.
Kate threw the sword to the side. “Well, shouting werewolf seemed pointless.”
An inebriated laugh bubbled up from his chest as he leaned wearily upon the upturned gaming table turned weapon. She shook her head in confusion and turned to tend the survivors. There were only two, a man and a woman. Thankfully the opium kept them calm, despite their grievous injuries. Kate tore strips from her tattered gown and set about binding their wounds.
Simon turned to Nick, who still sat on the ground. His tone was harsher than he intended, but he kept his voice to a whisper. “What did you use on him, Nick? It wasn’t vivimancy. It was a curse, wasn’t it?”
Nick faced Simon with a tired smile. “I needed something with a bit more power to weaken the bloody thing. Necromancy is the overmatched man’s best friend.”
“You said you’d stick to vivimancy. Necromantic spells have unforeseeable consequences.”
“So is a werewolf trying to tear my head off. I didn’t use it against the beast in the Rookery, and you griped about how we were almost killed and your whole life was wasted. Now I use it and you’re griping too. Make up your damned mind. Vivimancy was worthless in these circumstances. And, even so, the two disciplines are reverse sides of the same coin.” Nick kept his gaze purposefully away from the unmoving victims.
“It’s never worth the price,” Simon shot back.
“It’s hard to philosophize with teeth at your throat.” Nick walked over to where Kate tended to the two survivors. He put his hands on both of them. There was a slight greenish glow around him. Both victims twitched and took deeper, more comfortable breaths, while Nick slumped even more. “There, satisfied? They’ll probably survive now.”
Kate looked at Nick with confusion. “What just happened?”
Simon turned at the sound of alarmed voices coming up the stairs. He motioned to the window. “Best not to be seen here.”
Nick tipped his head to Kate and opened the window.
“You’re just going to leave?” Kate was indignant. “How are we going to explain a werewolf?”
“What werewolf?” Simon asked.
She pointed at Lord Oakham and saw that he had already reverted back to a battered human form lying bloody on the rug. He was nude but for tatters of his once-lavish clothes, which were draped over him. “Oh.”
“It’s best none of us was seen here,” he prompted, motioning her to the window. “A bit hard to explain.”
“I’ll stay. I doubt they will charge me for killing a man with a billiard table.”
“Thank you for your timely assistance.” Simon smiled, appraising the woman with new eyes. “You are most curious, Miss Anstruther.”
“The same can be said for you, Mr. Archer.”
He bowed, then darted out the window after Nick.
Chapter Six