closed quietly behind them.
'A werewolf,' said Dorimant slowly. 'I never really believed in such creatures.'
'I wasn't sure I believed in vampires,' said Fisher. 'Until I met one.'
'Werewolves are magical creatures,' said Stalker. 'And there's only one of us left with magical abilities. Interesting, that, isn't it?'
Hawk looked at him. 'Are you suggesting that Gaunt; ?'
'Why not?' said Stalker. 'I never did trust sorcerers. You heard how those people died in the Hook, didn't you?'
Hawk and Fisher looked at each other thoughtfully. Fisher raised an eyebrow, and Hawk shrugged slightly. He knew she was thinking of the succubus. Hawk tried to consider the point dispassionately. He'd assumed the succubus had been responsible for the deaths in the Hook, but they could just as easily have been the result of a werewolf on a killing spree. And Gaunt was an alchemist; he'd know about poisons. They only had his word that Blackstone's wine hadn't been poisoned. In fact, if the sorcerer was a werewolf he could probably have tasted poisoned wine and not taken any harm from it. And perhaps most important of all, Gaunt had been one of the last people in the parlor with Katherine;
Hawk scowled. It all made a kind of sense. He glanced at the closed parlor door and wondered if he should go after them. No, better not. Not yet, anyway. Hightower could look after himself, and it wasn't as if there was any real proof against Gaunt; Hawk sat back in is chair and silently cursed his indecision. He was a Guard, and he couldn't make a move without some kind of proof.
Lord and Lady Hightower waited impatiently in the library while Gaunt searched his laboratory for the silver dagger. Gaunt had politely but firmly refused to let them enter the laboratory with him. Lady Elaine understood. All men liked to have one room they could think of as their own; a private den they could retreat to when the world got a little too hard to cope with. Lady Elaine watched her husband pacing up and down, and wished she could say something to calm him. She'd never seen him so worried before. It was the werewolf, of course. Ever since Paul's death, Roderik had been obsessed with finding the creatures, and making them pay in blood. Despite his endless hunts he'd never found but one, and that one escaped, after killing three of his men. Now he finally had a chance to come face to face with a werewolf, and the odds were it was going to be one of his friends. No wonder he was torn;
Elaine sighed quietly. She was starting to feel some of the pressure herself. The unending heat was getting to her, and she jumped at every sudden noise. She was tired and her muscles ached, but she couldn't relax, even for a minute. It wasn't just the deaths. They were upsetting, of course, but it was the horrid feeling of helplessness that was most disturbing. No matter what anyone said or did, no matter what theories they came up with, people kept dying. No wonder her head ached unmercifully and Roderik's temper kept shortening by the minute. Elaine sighed again, a little louder this time, and sat down in one of the chairs. She tried to look calm and relaxed, in the hope that Roderik would follow her example, but he didn't.
Elaine hoped they'd got it right this time, and that the killer really was a werewolf. Roderik needed so badly to kill a werewolf. Perhaps when he saw the creature lying dead and broken at his feet he'd be able to forget about Paul's death and start thinking about his own life again. Perhaps;
Roderik suddenly stopped pacing, and stood very still. His shoulders were hunched and his head was bowed, and Elaine could see a faint sheen of sweat on his face. His hands were clenched into fists.
'Why doesn't he hurry up?' muttered Roderik. 'What's taking him so long?'
'It's only been a few minutes, my dear,' said Elaine. 'Give the man time.'
'It's hot,' said Roderik. He didn't look at her, and didn't even seem to have heard her. 'So damned hot. And close. I can't stand it. The rooms are all too small;'
'Rod?'
'I've got to get out of here. I've got to get out of this place.'
Elaine rose to her feet and moved quickly over to take his arm. Roderik looked at her frowningly, as though he knew her face but couldn't quite place it. And then recognition moved slowly in his eyes, and he reached across to gently pat her hand on his arm.
'I'm sorry, my dear. It's the heat, and the waiting. I hate being cooped up in here, in this house.'
'It's only until the morning, dear. Then the spell will be gone and we can leave.'
'I don't think I can wait that long,' said Roderik. He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes tender but strangely distant. 'Elaine, my dear, whatever happens, I love you. Never doubt it.'
'And I love you, Rod. But don't talk anymore. It's just the heat upsetting you.'
'No,' said Roderik. 'It's not just the heat.'
His face twisted suddenly and his eyes squeezed shut. He bent sharply forward, and wrapped his arms around himself. Elaine grabbed him by the shoulders to stop him falling.
'Rod? What is it? Do you have a pain?'
He pushed her away from him, and she staggered back a step. Hightower swayed from side to side, bent almost double. 'Get out of here! Get away from me! Please!'
'Rod! What's the matter?'
'It hurts; it hurts, Elaine! The moonlight's in my mind! Run, Elaine, run!'
'No! I can't leave you like this, Rod;'
And then he turned his shaggy head and looked at her. Elaine's eyes widened and her throat went dry. He growled, deep in his throat. The air was heavy with the smell of musk and hair. Elaine turned to run. The werewolf caught her long before she got to the door.
In the parlor, Stalker poured himself another glass of wine, and looked thoughtfully at the clock on the mantelpiece.
'They're taking their time, aren't they? How long does it take to find one dagger and some herbs in a jar?'
Hawk nodded slowly. 'Not this long. We'll give them a few more minutes, but if they're not back then, I think we'd better go and take a look for ourselves.'
Stalker nodded and sipped at his wine. Fisher continued to pace up and down before the closed parlor door. Hawk smiled slightly. Fisher never had cared much for waiting. Dorimant was sitting slumped in a chair, as far away from Katherine as he could get. His hands were clasped tightly together in his lap, and every now and again he would look quickly at the tablecloth covering Katherine's body, and then look away. Hawk frowned. Dorimant wasn't holding together too well, but you couldn't really blame him. The tension and the uncertainty were getting to everyone, and the night seemed to be never-ending. It was only to be expected that someone would start to crack. Hawk looked at the clock on the mantelpiece and chewed worriedly at his lower lip. Gaunt was taking too long.
'All right,' he said sharply. 'That's it. Let's go and find out what the hell's happening. Everyone stick together. No one is to go off on their own, no matter what.'
Stalker reached for his sword before getting to his feet. Hawk started to say something, and then decided against it. If the others had been attacked, he was going to need Stalker's expertise with a sword to back him up. Hawk headed for the door, and Fisher opened it for him. He smiled slightly as he saw she'd already drawn her sword. He drew his axe and stepped cautiously out into the hall. The library door stood slightly ajar, and the hall was empty. Hawk crossed over to the library, the others close behind him. He pushed the library door open. Lady Elaine Hightower lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Her throat had bee torn out. There was no sign of Gaunt or Roderik.
Hawk moved cautiously forward into the library, glaring about him. Fisher moved silently at his side, the lamplight shining golden on her sword blade. Stalker and Dorimant moved quickly in behind them. Hawk moved over to the laboratory door, and felt his hackles rise as he realized the door was standing slightly ajar. Gaunt would never have left that door open, for any reason; A wolfs howl sounded suddenly from inside the laboratory, followed by the sound of breaking glass and rending wood. Hawk ran forward, kicked the door open, and burst into the laboratory.
The werewolf threw himself at the succubus's throat, and they fell sprawling to the floor, snarling and clawing. They slammed up against a wooden bench and overturned it. Alchemical equipment fell to the floor and shattered. Hawk looked quickly at the pentacle on the far side of the room. Its blue chalk lines were smudged and broken. Gaunt lay unmoving on the floor, not far away. Hawk hurried over to crouch beside him, keeping a careful eye on the werewolf and the succubus as they raged back and forth across the laboratory. Fisher and Stalker stood
