Cunningham led half of the men into the back alley to prevent any escape. The constables carried the same magazine-fed, bolt-action, Lee–Enfield repeating rifles recently introduced into the army. The Inspector was armed with his .500 caliber, Holland double-barreled breech-loading shotgun and McDonaugh’s .577 caliber, short barrel percussion revolver. Signaling the ten men at his back to hold their position, the Inspector walked up the steps and knocked loudly. No one came to the door.
“Lady Wotton, this is Detective Inspector Clarke with Scotland Yard. I am here to place you under arrest. Please come out and surrender yourself peaceably.”
Stony silence greeted them. After a moment, the Inspector gestured for two men to take up position alongside the door. He loaded his shotgun and took aim at the door hinges. The door swung open suddenly and Eleanor stepped out. She stared down the barrel of his shotgun, which had swung to point straight at her face.
“Tsk, tsk, such manners,” Eleanor scolded.
“In the name of Her Majesty, the Queen,” began the Inspector as drops of sweat began to appear on his forehead, “I remand you into custody.”
“How uncivilized.” She raised her hands in submission. “Is there really a need for that elephant rifle?”
“Do I know you?” The Inspector thought there was something familiar about that voice.
It then became painfully clear that Lady Wotton was only partially dressed. She was clothed only in her undergarments, which left little to the imagination. The constables moved to spare her embarrassment by lowering their weapons and turning sideways. It was a chivalrous gesture, which also allowed them to get a sideways glance at the voluptuous curves.
His face turning red, the Inspector partially lowered his shotgun as well—that was when she attacked. In the blink of an eye, Eleanor slammed into him, ripping the gun from his grasp and shoving him back to tumble down the stairs. The two men closest to the door immediately charged her. Eleanor caught the butt of the first man’s rifle mid-swing. Baring her teeth, she pivoted to throw him into the second man. As they crashed into the wall, she vaulted the stairs, landing with a grunt in the pile of constables gathered there.
Ducking under the first shot fired, the errant bullet took a constable in the temple. Eleanor rolled, knocking another man’s legs from under him as she rose to her feet. The Inspector lurched upright and fired his revolver from behind her, the bullet exploding through her chest and spraying three of the men in front with blood.
She looked down in curious surprise at the gaping hole. The constables froze as they expected her to drop. Batting her long lashes flirtatiously, she slowly raised her chin. “Taking a lady from behind? How discourteous.” Her lips curled in a savage grin. Then she snarled like a dog.
Eleanor was moving again by the time the hammer clicked on the Inspector’s second round. It clipped her in the shoulder, but did little to stop her from grabbing a constable by the neck and smashing the back of his head open on the cobblestone ground. She slurped the blood from her hand.
One man drew a curved knife, lunging in an attempt to bury it in her ribs. Eleanor caught the blade in her hand, her other fist slamming into the attacker’s elbow. She shattered the bone, easily turning the weapon to sink it into its owner’s eye.
Two other constables tackled her and held her down, while a third fired his rifle repeatedly into Eleanor’s stomach. With a scream, she head-butted the first man restraining her. As he fell back bloodied, she flung the second man forward like a rag doll. She surged to her feet, but staggered backwards as she took a point-blank shot to the chest from the third man’s rifle. His victorious smirk faded as the gun jammed and Eleanor drove him to the ground landing one furious blow after another. The man gurgled blood as she stood, leaving his face mashed to a pulp. She picked up another rifle and aimed at the two men still near the door who had finally risen. She casually shot them in the head as they were charging down the steps. Another constable knocked the weapon from her hands while using his as a club. She turned, her mouth wide, and bit into his throat. Despite her human teeth she still managed to tear the flesh out like an animal.
The Inspector fired when he had a clear shot, but his men were dying. Eleanor’s wounds seemed to heal instantly. There was no stopping her. He limped backward, out of ammunition and the only man left on his feet.
“What a clever boy you are.” She approached with the blood of his men staining her teeth and face. “So you figured out my little secret. What a shame you didn’t bring more men for me to play with.”
The Inspector tripped over a body and fell to his back. He cried out in pain as he landed. “I should have kissed my wife goodbye,” he muttered.
Eleanor paused at that. “And if you could speak to her now, what would you say to her?”
“That I am sorry. That she was right all those years ago. I should have left the service and given her children.”
She stomped on the head of a man to her left as he tried to gain his feet. “A pity you won’t have the chance.”
“We will stop you, Eleanor. If not me, a better man will.”
“My name isn’t Eleanor. It’s Luna.” She wiped the blood from her face with her hand and stared at it. “And no man can stop me.” She licked her fingers clean in an alarmingly sensual way. “Time to die.”
The Inspector rolled to the side, grabbing a rifle and raising it to fire, but Eleanor knocked it calmly out of his hand. She raised her clenched fist as she stood over him—and faltered as a bullet cut a line across her cheek. Another sunk into her calf, causing the leg to partially buckle.
“Keep firing!” Cunningham had returned from the back alley and had his men in an infantry line. More shots hit their mark than missed as Eleanor was flung backward in a barrage of bullets. She tried to push herself forward towards the Inspector, but a second volley riddled her flesh with grisly wounds and she was forced to retreat. With a snarl, she gave ground. Turning to flee, she heaved her body over a low wall. Cunningham’s men advanced, but Luna was already gone, making her escape down a sheltered passageway.
Cunningham helped the Inspector to his feet as they checked for survivors. “What in da ‘ell was that?”
The Inspector winced as he cradled his broken arm. “That, Constable, is our werewolf, disguised in the flesh of a young lady with no clothes on.”
CHAPTER 18.
T
HE KISS OF LIFE
It had taken hours for Lucious to dig out all of the bullets that had healed inside Luna’s body. He was handy enough with the pliers, but digging through the flesh of his temperamental mistress was a good way to get killed. While she was in her human form, the two had taken to hiding in a different inn each night, which put her in a bad mood. Now that Scotland Yard was searching for them, they were cut off from any of the comfortable places she would have preferred to stay.
They spent the next few weeks avoiding notice as Luna funneled as much of her wealth as possible into foreign bank accounts outside of the reach of Scotland Yard. Lucious acted as a go-between, obtaining promissory notes which could then be kept safe in various safe deposit boxes. She had several confidantes whom she dealt with regularly. They could be counted on not to betray her trust nor ask too many questions. At last, the day before the full moon came once more.
As the sun set, Lucious looked at his pocket watch for the fifteenth time. “Ah will juist deliver yer letters tae Mr. Morenstein.”
“I’d rather you stayed, Lucious.” Luna’s eyes revealed it as a command rather than a request.
His eyes flicked about the cramped room. There was only one bed, which his mistress had naturally taken. He didn’t mind sleeping on the floor and had positioned himself protectively between her and the door—not that she needed any protection.
“Aye,” Lucious nodded, “but wilnae th' moon be rising soon?”
“It will indeed.” Luna stood and walked over towards him. “I want to thank you for your loyalty.” She took his hand in hers. “It is
time that I fulfilled my promise to you.”
“Ah dinnae need a reward.” He tried to pull his hand away, but she held it firmly. “Mibbie now's nae th' best time.”
“Nonsense.” She released his hand and he cradled the bruised fingers. “Tonight you will see me as I change into my true form.” She walked behind him and dead bolted the door.
Lucious swallowed, turning to face her as she approached once more. She looked more beautiful than ever. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as her face stopped just in front of his. Fear and arousal mixed together as she kissed him fiercely.
With a shove, she pushed him back onto the bed. “I insist.”
She began disrobing slowly, loosening the straps of her dress and letting it fall to the ground. She pulled her shift over her head, revealing her silk undergarments below. He had envisioned this moment so many times before in his dreams. Luna released her round breasts with a gentle bounce, the small pink nipples the very definition of perfection.
Dumbfounded, he let his gaze sweep across her narrow waist and the pair of shapely hips. His eyes slowly traveled lower to the soft outline of her pelvic bone ending in the narrow ‘v’ of her sex. It was more sensuous than he could have imagined. He hardened as she approached the bed.
That was when the change began. Her arms dislocated and expanded as they darkened with thick hair. The delicate pelvic bone momentarily cut through the skin like a bloody fin breaching the surface of the water before slipping back down beneath the expanding torso and healing. Her beautiful face contorted and ripped apart before reforming into a wolf’s muzzle. He loosed a strangled scream and scuttled back like a crab. Still, she came forward.
Lucious tried to rise, but the creature leapt on top of him, pushing him back down onto the bed. Newly formed canines gnashed above his face.
The groundskeeper froze. “Please, dinnae murdurr me.”
“Nooo.” Luna chuckled deep in the back of her throat. “Nooottt murrrdeeerrr, buuuttt thhheee kkkiiisss ooofff liiifffeee.”
Making a fist, Lucious tried to steady himself. His mistress had explained the process for passing the werewolf gift. But would it actually work?
A single claw passed down the center of his twill shirt. When the cut was made, she ripped his shirt apart exposing his chest and arms. His hair hid most of the scars of the lean but still muscular upper body. Gently, as a mother grasping the scruff of her cub’s neck, she bit down into his shoulder. The sharp teeth punctured deep into the flesh and he restrained a scream. Blood flowed out and a wild look appeared in Luna’s eyes. She bit down harder. For a moment, Lucious thought she would rip his arm off, but she finally released her jaws. Licking her lips, Luna kept her muzzle above the wound as a pool of drool slowly fell and mixed with his blood.
She crawled off him then, and relief flooded in. Despite her promise, Lucious sensed that she had almost killed him anyways. He grabbed the bed sheet and wrapped it around the wound.
Lucious rose as Luna moved towards the door. She arched her back and flexed her claws. “Ssstttaaay herrre wwwhiiillleee Iii huuunnnt.”
“Aye, mistress.” He unlocked the door and closed it behind the werewolf as she padded down the hallway. Lucious pulled out a wooden trunk under the bed and removed his Thomas Caddell pistol. He loaded it and went to stand in front of the mirror. Gazing at his reflection, he put the pistol in his mouth and prepared to fire. His hand began to shake. After what seemed like ages, he slowly removed the pistol without firing and returned it to the trunk. He would live with this curse if it meant they could finally be together as equals.
CHAPTER 19.
W
EREWOLF PANDEMIC
Inspector Clarke groaned as Nurse Joy helped him sit up in bed. Despite his annoyance at needing assistance, the staff at St. Thomas’ Hospital held warm smiles and gentle natures. After the encounter with “Luna”, he didn’t mind having some time to recover. Aside from a broken arm and a pulled muscle in his back, several of his fingers had been dislocated and he had a deep gash on his forehead. Many of his men had fared worse. Cunningham had taken the lead admirably, but the Inspector needed to be on his feet as quickly as possible—if only to deliver an explanation to the newly widowed wives and their children.
He had received word from Van Helsing on some new developments and had requested they meet in person at once. The Hunter claimed to have a new ally that could help them in what was quickly becoming an unholy war waged in the streets of London.
“Enough, woman.” It would not do for him to be seen being coddled by the nurse.
The nurse frowned. “I am not one of your constables that you can order around.” She propped a pillow behind his head and placed another one under the sling protecting his arm. “It’s bad enough you insisted on visitors at this late hour.”
“Yard business,” he said peevishly. That did not seem to mollify her, so he tried another approach. “I’m sorry, Nurse.” He struggled to find a comfortable angle for his back. “Thank you for arranging this. But I am fine, so please return to your family and enjoy your evening.”
Joy gave him a doubtful look. “If your guests disturb the other patients, I’ll have them thrown out of this ward faster than a bed pan hitting the floor.”
The Inspector held up his good hand. “You have my word on it that we will be as quiet as church mice.”
“You’d better.” Thankfully, she turned to leave. “I’ll be around with your medicine in a few hours. And you will swallow all of it this time.”
He grit his teeth, responding in the surest way to ensure her departure. “Yes, ma’am.” He could not stand being ordered around like a helpless child.
It was only a gulp of liquid and a few deep breaths later when Van Helsing strode in, followed by an enchanting young lady. “Er, you failed to mention this ally of yours was of the feminine variety.”
Taking in the Inspector’s current state of undress, Van Helsing offered only an apologetic grin.
“Don’t worry Inspector—” the newcomer winked “—it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. My name is Sage.”
The Inspector coughed. “A pleasure. Never mind that now. I have some disturbing news for you both.” Turning a deep shade of red, he struggled to turn the conversation towards the matter at hand. “With the exception of the male werewolf you killed, there is a reason we only see the creatures at night. They are in human form during the day, but are no less deadly.”
Van Helsing’s eyes narrowed. “That is new. You should have waited for me before confronting one. You say it was a female?”
“Yes. It seems you are in the right.” The Inspector bowed his head. “Many good men lost their lives because of my carelessness. I did not expect Lady Eleanor Wotton to be so strong.”
“I am sorry for the loss of your men, Inspector.” Sage went to the bedside and placed her hand on the injured arm. “If only I had met you both sooner. Eleanor is not who she appears to be. She was once my friend, Lady Helena. She is rejuvenated in her youth by the werewolf’s curse, but it has also poisoned her mind. She has chosen a dark path and taken a new persona as Luna.”
“Yes. I thought she looked familiar.” The Inspector scratched at the bald spot on the top of his head. “Van Helsing says you can help us, but what can a woman do against a monster like that? She broke ten of my best men as if it were nothing.”
Sage closed her eyes and began to whisper.
A tingling sensation shot up his impaired arm, “What the—” the bone mended itself as the pain faded.
He removed the arm from the sling and flexed it. “Perhaps I have underestimated you.”
“That’s not the half of it.” Van Helsing rolled his eyes. “She was the one who killed the male Vârcolac. With Sage’s help, we can end this plague before it spreads.”
The Inspector looked up in shock. “Spreads, what do you mean?”
“There is something infectious about the werewolf’s bite during the full moon.” Sage folded her arms tightly around
herself. “I have had a vision. If we don’t stop it, a plague of werewolves will sweep through London and destroy everything.” She looked out the window at the full moon. “Luna has already created one new werewolf. I saw the whole thing. We need to find her tonight…before she makes dozens more.”
* * *
Dorian was all alone, yet again. At least when the black werewolf had still been alive he had always felt the familiar presence. He would miss the raw emotions and animal passion they shared through their strange connection—despite how malevolent it had been. The agony of the creature’s death had not been as painful as the sudden absence of the second mind that had been a part of his own subconscious for so long. Robbed of being the one to kill the black werewolf, he faced a sudden void of meaning to his existence.
He had planned to weather the full moon hunting in the forest, but something drew him back into the city. It was a strange feeling. Now that the other male was destroyed, Dorian had the increasing urge to mark his territory. He was the dominant male now. London was his city, as were all of the females within it. He set out to find Luna, the one other person who understood him.
Tracking her scent to Hyde Park, Dorian loped along the edge of the Serpentine. The curving shape of the lake brought strange sounds from across the water; the rustling of transients bedding down for the night, the throaty moan of a harlot servicing a man on a park bench, and the wet crunch of bone marrow being sucked out from a femur—Luna was close.
Picking up speed, Dorian splashed through the shallow water until he approached the dark underbelly of a stone bridge. The smell of piss and feces hung just above the surface of the water, along with the coppery tang of blood. He came upon Luna as she was devouring her kill. A sudden rage filled him. These were his lands! She had no right to hunt without his permission.
Box Set: The Wolf of Dorian Gray Series: Books 1-3 Page 40
