“Don’t encourage them,” Simon pointed out, but it was too late.
Something came rushing from the facing tunnel, colossal and covered in rust-mottled fur, huge claws and teeth. Malcolm fired as the speeding thing filled his vision. The gunfire was an explosion echoing around them. The beast stumbled to the side, losing its momentum. A second creature leapt, landing with a rumbling thud, its long arms coming forward. The werewolf swatted at Malcolm like he was an annoying pest. The Scotsman dodged under the blow just as Simon slapped his hands together in front of him with a deafening clap of thunder. A force wave punched the werewolves back into their brethren crouched in the dim confines of the tunnel. The other creatures shoved their injured comrades aside and rushed out at the intruders.
More creatures also poured from the closer tunnel to the left. Simon and his group spread out and took up positions in an attempt to cover one another’s backs as the melee began. Hogarth swung a bone-crushing mace, its pointed tips coated with silver. Each rhythmic swipe connected and drove beasts writhing to the ground.
Malcolm twisted aside and fired the Lancaster at the base of a werewolf’s skull as it rushed him. The beast flopped to the ground. Penny was at Malcolm’s back and she fired her pistol into the black obsidian orbs that glared up at her, eyes so large that she saw her own diminutive reflection in them.
Nick’s hands were in constant motion and a combination of flame and frost flew from them. Fur caught fire and the slimy pools turned to slippery ice beneath clawed feet.
Simon’s sword was out and dancing in the flashes of bright light from Nick’s frenzied spells. The steel struck out at targets like the flicking tongue of a snake. Its blue runic glow burned hot, drawing howls of pain from each beast it touched.
Then Simon was amazed to catch sight of a familiar face behind the growing mass of werewolves. It was the girl who had helped them escape Bedlam. Charlotte. She stood inside the tunnel, in human form, her face a conflicted mask. Her large eyes met Simon’s and she reacted in shock, and perhaps shame. She was trembling, but then her features hardened with decision and she transformed. It was an agonizing process, the small form growing larger and darker, her flowery print dress shredding. Her flailing limbs grew longer and her face shifted horribly, reshaping its handsome pugnacious appearance into the fearsome countenance of a monster.
The beast that had been Charlotte answered the howls reverberating in the chamber, but instead of joining her brethren, she collided against them with her claws and teeth. She took advantage of their surprise, jumping from one target to another, tearing and ripping.
Simon lost sight of her in the chaos, barely dodging a sweep of claws. With a single hand, he grabbed the short, stiff bristles of a nearby werewolf and heaved the creature into the mouth of a tunnel. Then he caught sight of another long snout, filled with row upon row of sharp savage teeth, snapping inches from his head. Charlotte appeared at his side and fell on the werewolf with a tremendous ferocity beyond her smaller stature. She tore at its legs, hamstringing her opponent. Malcolm spun and stabbed the lame werewolf low in the back, twisting his knife. The wounded creature arched with a tremendous howl that made eardrums ache in the narrow confines.
The Lancaster in his other hand leveled at Charlotte, but Simon seized the barrel and shoved it aside. “No! It’s Charlotte!”
Another werewolf bowled into the hunter, and he fell prone to the ground. The beast towered over him, a vision of teeth and savagery. Simon slammed his stonelike fist into the side of its head. Blood spurted from its eye and it screamed an unholy sound before backhanding him. The blow hit Simon’s chest and sent him flying against a wall. The beast hurtled toward him, claws extended, vicious mouth agape. It crashed against the magician, but Simon spoke a word and brought both fists down atop the werewolf’s back, and, with a sickening snap, crushed its spine.
Gaining his feet, Malcolm widened his stance and kept fighting, his pistol firing, steam pouring from the barrels. Werewolves fell. He backed up until he was near Penny. She pulled a grenade and pressed the button. Then she sailed it over shaggy heads. The bomb whined shrilly and exploded. Hundreds of argent slivers hissed through the air, tearing into them from behind. Inhuman screams and chaos abounded.