Kate turned to the Scotsman. “She was playing with a doll like any other child, like Imogen.”
“That child is a werewolf, and she will tear out your heart and eat it given half a chance.” Malcolm turned angrily to Simon. “Tell her!”
Simon’s hand touched Kate’s shoulder. “There’s no time for anything else. We have only a small window of opportunity here. We dare not walk away with so much at stake. Your sister’s safety, not to mention all of London’s.”
Kate drew in a deep breath and handed Simon the vials. “I know.” Her tone was laced with bitterness.
Simon had tried to warn her, but she hadn’t understood then. She had only believed that all werewolves were adults with nothing but murder on their minds. None of what she had seen here changed her focus, only her heart. It broke for what she was about to do. Gripping one of the last vials in her satchel so tight her knuckles turned white, she poisoned the supply of wulfsyl, and may God have mercy on all of their souls.
“It’s done,” Simon announced. “Let’s go.” He moved to the door. With quick strokes of ink he used the transparency spell to make sure the way was clear, which it was as far as they could see in the limited lighting out in the hall. Scrubbing out the scribed spell, Simon opened the door and went outside. He nodded, then stopped as his foot hit something. It was a doll. His head jerked up, and Kate’s eyes widened.
“Run,” he told her.
They heard the airing-grounds door opening. Malcolm pulled his pistols. The sound of people filling the hallway behind them made the center of Kate’s shoulders twitch. A howl broke the chilled air, loud and reverberating in the tight confines. Kate thought she caught a glimmer of trepidation in Simon, but she also sensed his determination as he pressed her forward. The iron door was just ahead.
The baying followed them, growing in concert as more voices were lent to the chase. Kate lengthened her stride to keep up with Simon and Malcolm. She slammed against the unyielding iron.
“Hurry,” she cried, fighting the panic of being trapped with a pack of werewolves ready to tear them apart. Simon was saying something, but not to her. He was calling the strength to his limbs.
Malcolm stood, feet apart and facing back, his pistols aimed. When the pack rounded the corner, a mass of fur and rage, Malcolm opened fire with a barrage that ripped through the front ranks.
Simon put his strength to the bars and they separated with a groan. Kate went through first, then Simon. “Malcolm! It’s done. Come on!”
Pistols spent, Malcolm spun and ran, diving headfirst through the widened bars. Simon quickly grabbed the bars to bend them back into place. The snarling mob rushed him and Kate knew he wouldn’t get the bars closed in time. Her hand came up with a vial that she threw in front of the charging werewolves. It smashed into a thousand glass shards on the floor, throwing up a low mist that quickly settled to the ground. The floor turned to black treacle and the beasts got stuck in the tarry mess, feet holding so firm that several toppled shoulder and chest to the blackened ground. Simon was wrenching the bars together when a second rank of berserk werewolves leapt over their trapped comrades and flung themselves against the iron.
Malcolm grabbed Simon’s collar and yanked him out of harm’s way as long, hairy arms and savage jaws tore at the spot he had just occupied.
“Thanks, old boy,” Simon panted.
Malcolm grunted.
The trio retreated quickly, leaving the snarling beasts raging at the door. As they ran, the hard stone floor became carpeted, and the hall sprouted tables and plants and portraits of squires with prize horses. Once again, they no longer seemed to be in a house of horror. But as they turned the corner for the front entranceway, they spotted figures coming toward them.
Dr. White walked ahead of a bare-breasted female patient. One of the horrid white homunculi held the feeble, drooling woman upright. A step behind the doctor was a gigantic blond woman dressed incredibly in a leather cuirass. Her eyes narrowed, and she pushed past Dr. White. She smiled, and hissed, “MacFarlane.”