Gretta produced a blue bottle from inside her cloak and tossed it to Hibbert.
He stared at the glass vial with a mixture of relief and desire. “I can assure you, Gretta, the lovely Miss Anstruther will do anything I ask, and she has.” Hibbert glanced at the tall blonde in false modesty. “Oh, I’m sorry, my sweet, for my impolite masculine bluntness.” Then he chuckled. “Although, why should I fear? We are both men of the world, eh, Herr Aldfather?” He grinned at his jest, particularly given the annoyed glare she gave him. He collapsed into a chair, nestling his bottle. “Opium. You never turn your back on a gentleman.”
“Colonel Hibbert, neither your childish humor nor your assistance are needed any longer.”
From his filthy armchair, Hibbert drew on his pipe, taking a drowsy interest in what the woman was saying. “Oh? That’s too bad. I was rather enjoying her. But no matter. What shall I do next?”
“Nothing.”
“Well then, I should like better quarters. There’s no privacy here for a man to engage in … certain practices.”
Gretta studied the lanky wretch of a man. “No.”
“No what?”
“There will be no better quarters for you. There will be no certain practices for you.”
“Look here, old hound, I’m giving that Anstruther chippie to you. She’s primed and ready. I deserve something, don’t I?”
“You deserve to be killed and eaten.”
Hibbert stared into the bowl of his sputtering pipe with a disapproving sneer. His voice was slurred from narcotics. “Here, I won’t have talk of eating me in my own home.”
The woman came toward his chair and reached for him. A horrific screech filled the room. Shades of bright yellow sprang from the floor, terrifying figures of translucent vapor with fingers and skeletal faces twisted in anguish. The shades coalesced around the woman, who showed surprise for the first time. She swung her strong arms as the sickly, spectral things ripped at her. Her head was slapped from side to side, raising scarlet welts on her cheeks. Her blond hair flew around her face, long strands torn from her scalp. With a shout of anger, she scrambled quickly to the door, keeping an arm up to cover her face. The yellow spirits did not pursue her. They hovered along the perimeter of the circle, giving off a weird, cackling noise. Then they thinned like morning mist at dawn and disappeared into the floor.
Gretta crouched, breathing hard and collecting herself. Her blue eyes penetrated the thin man who had made her crawl. She stood slowly and brushed her clothes. Now she saw that Hibbert’s chair sat in the middle of a magic circle chalked onto the wood. She glanced at the bedroom door.
“Oh, it’s the same in there.” The man smirked with unctuous superiority. “Miss Anstruther is reclining in the middle of another circle. Approach her, and my nasty familiars will rend the skin from your body. Which will only serve to make you more masculine than you already are.” He chuckled at his witticism.
“What’s your game, Hibbert?” Gretta’s voice cracked with restrained anger.
“It’s no game. I want what’s owed me. I don’t have to give Miss Anstruther to you. I can just enjoy her a few more days, then use pieces of her in my conjuring. It would slacken my taste nicely for revenge against the Anstruthers.”
Gretta went rigid. Her veins bulged and tendons in her neck grew taut. She began to shiver.
The man squirmed in his chair but kept his voice even. “Your act doesn’t frighten me, Gretta. I’ve the upper hand here. You are toying with a conjurer who learned his art in the Dark East. What do you have to match that?”
The woman’s pale skin suddenly went dark. Her back hunched and the cloak bulged with powerful muscles pushing from inside. Her fingers twisted and gnarled, growing black with claws growing from the tips. Gretta’s head grew larger and her blond hair turned the color of coal and seemed to blend with a thick coat of heavy fur that rose from her entire body. Her mouth widened and the white teeth grew ever larger. Clawed feet tore free of shoes.
She shrugged off her heavy cloak and shook herself. The remnants of clothing slid from her gigantic frame. A massive werewolf stood with dripping jaws. She dropped heavily onto her hands and dug her claws into the floor. Blackened lips rippled with a growl.
The man drew his feet up into the chair, staring wildly at the creature. He pointed the stem of his pipe at her. “Here now, Gretta. Stop that noise. You can’t penetrate my circle, even in that form.”