“All right,” said Hawk. “Everybody find a chair and sit down, but keep your hands in plain sight. Sir Stalker, lay your sword down on the floor by your feet, and don’t touch it again until I tell you to.”
Stalker studied him carefully a moment, and then nodded and followed Hawk’s instructions. Fisher watched unblinkingly until Stalker was sitting in his chair with his sword at his feet, and only then lowered her sword. Stalker didn’t even look in her direction. Soon everyone except Hawk and Fisher had found themselves a chair. The two Guards stood on either side of Katherine Blackstone.
“All right,” said Hawk. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. Lord and Lady Hightower were up on the landing with Visage. Stalker, Gaunt, Dorimant, and Katherine were all down here in the parlour. The Lady Elaine went into the bathroom, Lord Hightower went into his bedroom, and Visage was left alone on the landing. Shortly afterwards, she was attacked and killed. Fisher and I heard her screams just as we were leaving the kitchen. We ran up the stairs to find Visage already dead, and her attacker gone. Lord and Lady Hightower came out onto the landing to see what had happened, and those in the parlour came running out into the hall. While they were leaving the parlour, or shortly afterward, Katherine was stabbed to death.”
“We must have missed something,” said Fisher. “Put like that, the two murders couldn’t have happened. It just wasn’t possible.”
“It has to be possible!” Hawk hefted his axe angrily. “I don’t believe this. Four people have been murdered, in a house full of witnesses, and nobody sees anything!”
He glared round at Gaunt and his guests, and then turned disgustedly away to look at Katherine. He frowned slightly. He’d thought at first that she might have been stabbed somewhere else and then brought back and dumped in her chair, but while the front of her dress was soaked with blood, there were no bloodstains to be seen anywhere else. So, the killer must have struck no more than a few seconds after the others had left the parlour.... Hawk scowled. It was possible. Everyone had been so intent on what was happening on the landing that they wouldn’t have noticed someone sneaking into the parlour. But how the hell had the killer got down from the landing to the hall? Hawk shook his head and leaned over Katherine to get a closer look at the dagger that had killed her. The hilt jutted obscenely from between her breasts. Hawk noted that the blow had been struck with professional skill; just under the sternum and straight into the heart. The hilt itself was a standard metal grip wrapped in leather, with nothing to distinguish it from a thousand others just like it. Hawk straightened up and turned reluctantly back to the sorcerer and his guests.
“Some of you must have seen something, even if you don’t recognise it. Have any of you seen or heard anything out of the ordinary, no matter how silly or trivial it may sound?”
There was a long silence as they all looked at each other, and then Stalker stirred thoughtfully.
“It could be nothing,” he said slowly, “but up on the landing I could have sworn I smelt something.”
“You smelt something?” said Hawk. “What did it smell like?”
“I don’t know. It was a musky, animal smell.”
Fisher nodded slowly. “Visage said she smelt something earlier on, just after Bowman’s death. She wasn’t sure what it was.”
“I’m not sure either,” said Stalker. “But it was definitely some kind of animal....”
“Like a wolf?” said Hawk suddenly.
Stalker looked at him, and nodded grimly. “Yes ... like a wolf.”
“This is ridiculous,” said Gaunt. “There are no wolves in Haven. And anyway, how could a wolf have got into my house, past all my wards and defences?” .
“Quite simply,” said Hawk. “You invited him in.”
“Oh, my God,” said Lady Elaine. “A werewolf ...”
“Yes,” said Hawk. “A shapeshifter. It all makes sense now, if you think about it. What kind of murderer kills sometimes with a knife and sometimes like a wild animal? A man who is sometimes a wolf. A werewolf.”
“And there’s a full moon tonight,” said Fisher.
“You’ve had some experience in tracking down werewolves, haven’t you?” said Dorimant.
“Experience,” said Hightower bitterly. “Oh, yes, Hawk knows all about werewolves, don’t you, Captain? How many this time, Captain? How many more of us are going to die because of your incompetence?” His wife put a gentle hand on his arm, and he subsided reluctantly, still glaring at Hawk.
“I don’t understand,” said Gaunt. “Are you seriously suggesting that one of us is a werewolf?”
“Yes,” said Hawk flatly. “It’s the only answer that fits.”
They all looked at each other, as though expecting to see telltale fur and fangs and claws.
Dorimant looked at Gaunt. “Can’t your magic tell you which one of us is the werewolf?”
Gaunt stirred uncomfortably. “Not really. There are such spells, but they’re rather out of my field.”
“There are other means of detecting a werewolf,” said Hawk.
“Oh, of course,” said Gaunt quickly. “Wolfsbane, for example. A lycanthrope should react very strongly to wolfsbane.”
“I was thinking more of silver,” said Hawk. “Do you have any silver weapons in the house, sir sorcerer?”
“There’s a silver dagger somewhere in my laboratory,” said Gaunt. “At least, there used to be. I haven’t used it in a long time.”
“All right,” said Hawk patiently. “Go and look for it. No, wait a minute. I don’t want anyone going off on their own. Fisher and I will come with you.”
“No,” said Lord Hightower flatly. “I don’t trust you, Hawk. You were involved with a werewolf before. How do we know you didn’t get bitten and become infected with the werewolf curse?”
“That’s crazy!” said Fisher angrily. “Hawk’s no werewolf!”
“Take it easy,” said Hawk quickly. “Lord Hightower is right. Until we can prove otherwise, no one is above suspicion. Absolutely no one.”
Hightower stiffened slightly. “Are you suggesting ...”
“Why not?” said Hawk. “Anyone can become a werewolf.”
“How dare you,” said Hightower softly, furiously. “You of all people should remember what good cause I have to hate shapeshifters.”
For a moment, nobody said anything.
“Why don’t you come with me, Rod,” said Gaunt quietly. “I’m sure I’ll feel a lot safer with an old soldier like you along to watch my back.”
“Of course,” said Hightower gruffly. “You come along too, Elaine. You’ll be safer with us.”
Lady Elaine nodded, and she and her husband followed Gaunt out of the parlour and into the hall. The door 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 parlour with Katherine....
Hawk scowled. It all made a kind of sense. He glanced at the closed parlour 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 parlour, 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 parlour 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.