“No?” she rumbled and exploded at him.
Hibbert shrieked, dropping the bottle of opium, which shattered on the floor. The yellow shades appeared immediately, enveloping the great beast. Her back bowed as if she had hit a wall. However, she muscled forward with her hands, gouging curls of wood from the floor. The yellow, misty horrors wailed and tore at her head and back. Their hands, trailing steam, ripped bloody rows in her hairy flesh. Still, Gretta drove closer to the little man in the chair. The shades roared as if in hellish pain, continuing to swirl about her, raking her. Despite the brutal damage they dealt, they lost ground with each crunching step she made.
Gretta’s ferocious glare never wavered from the terrified Hibbert. Her snout strained to within a foot of the man and she bared her teeth. The tip of her huge tongue lolled from her mouth and licked his face. The man screamed and bolted. The instant he broke the circle, the shades vanished and Gretta toppled against the empty chair.
Hibbert took three steps before a huge claw fell on his back. He hardly had time to shout when his back opened in a flood of gore. One shoulder with the arm attached fell to the floor, while the rest of the man staggered drunkenly for a few steps, teetering backward, and spun to the ground.
Gretta slapped at the motionless body. She sniffed it closely and only smelled death. She grunted a bestial laugh.
With two long strides, she reached the bedroom door and pulled it open. She peered into the bedroom. Filthy curtains floated in the cold wind.
“Damn him!” Gretta cursed.
The huge werewolf stepped to an empty bed with an open window next to it. There was a second chalk circle on the floor, but with Hibbert dead, it had no power. The bedclothes were rumpled and Gretta could smell a recent occupant. A female. The scent went from the bed to the window and out.
The Anstruther girl was gone.
Gretta heard cautious voices hovering outside the door but afraid to knock or open it. She gathered her cloak and inspected the nasty, steaming wounds on her arms, legs, and torso. Painful, but they would heal. She went to the bedroom window and took a deep huff of the air. Out there among the smoke-shrouded rooftops and alley warrens black with shadow, there was a slight scent of the girl.
With a fluttering of her cloak, Gretta leapt out into the cold night.
Chapter Ten
The Anstruther four-horse post chaise rocked to a stop on the Strand. Simon parted the window shade and glanced out. He nodded with satisfaction to Kate Anstruther, seated across from him. She threw up the shade and stared out with open disdain at the white marble Italianate edifice with its row of flickering gas lamps.
“Imogen is in there?” she asked, her voice grinding.
“This was Hibbert’s last given address, so it is likely. It is a good thing your manservant directed you to me. The Mercury Club is not overly friendly to women.” Simon sounded apologetic. “I’m certainly no choirboy, but these chaps are quite despicable in many ways that cannot be spoken of in polite company. I know members in passing.”
“In passing?” she repeated in a questioning tone.
“In passing,” he said, letting it go. “They cultivate a fa?ade of mystery. Like to pretend they are magicians. In reality, they are adult boys with too much time on their manicured hands.”
Kate snorted with agreement. Her mood had deteriorated since she had met with Simon at Soho Square an hour ago to explain her situation. Now she was more a caged animal spoiling for a fight. The way she held herself, there was a studied aggression to her, an economy of motion and nervous energy he had seen in athletes.
Just as interesting to Simon was the Anstruther’s manservant, Hogarth, who rode outside with the driver. He was an odd character who hardly spoke, barely moved, and exuded a strange power and authority. Simon found him a bit disturbing.
Despite her virulent mood, Simon was glad Kate had come to him. He had intended to contact her because he couldn’t let the events at Viscount Gillingham’s go unexplored. She had handled herself with such mastery.
Simon said, “If you’d care to wait, I will go in and make inquiries.”
Kate threw open the carriage door. He quickly followed her out onto the Strand with a look of mild dismay. She cleared a path through the late-afternoon crowds until a liveried doorman of the Mercury blocked her from the dark wooden door. Simon quickly darted in front.
“Good afternoon.” He smiled broadly to the doorman.
The doorman relaxed at seeing a gentleman with the lady. “Good day to you, sir. Is this your party?”
“It is.”
“Was the Circle alerted that you were coming today?”
Simon cleared his throat and deposited a gold sovereign into the doorman’s gloved hand. “You haven’t seen Colonel Boylan Hibbert in the last day, have you?”
The doorman gazed back without emotion as if the cash exchange hadn’t occurred. “You’ll need to speak to Lord Argyle, sir, with such inquiries.”