Lindsay tore off his neckcloth and threw it aside, baring his throat. His shirt gaped. He held out his hand out to Cruikshank. Cruikshank glanced at Mercer, and at his nod, handed the silver circlet to Lindsay.
“What are you doing?” Drew’s voice sounded stronger now, edged with a note of panic.
Mercer licked his lips, his eyes gleaming. “Lindsay Somerville,” he murmured. “The things I’m going to do to you.”
Lindsay’s stomach turned at the avid look in his eyes.
Drew began trying to struggle to his feet.
“Stay where you are!” Mercer barked, but Drew fought him, staggering a little as he rose groggily. Mercer sent him back to his knees with a savage kick and set the sword at his throat. “If you move again, you die,” he hissed in Drew’s ear, his gaze on Lindsay. “As you for you, cur, get that collar on or I’m ending him.”
Gritting his teeth, and ignoring his burning hands, Lindsay raised the collar and unhinged the clasp, opening it up.
“Lindsay, what the hell are you doing?” Drew demanded. His gaze was clearing now, and he looked desperate.
“It’s my fault you’re here,” Lindsay said. “I’m getting you out.” For a moment, he just stared at the wide-open silver jaws of the circlet, terror and hopelessness churning in him. Then he set the collar about his throat and pressed the fastening closed with a soft click. Immediately, he gasped, both at the sucking burn of the metal on his skin and, worse, the imprisonment of his wolf. He felt his slavedom settle upon him, heavy and terrible and inevitable.
“Take it off!” Drew shouted. “What are you doing?”
“He’s returning to his master,” Mercer said with satisfaction. “Where he belongs.” He thrust Drew away from him and the man fell to the ground on his side, his bound arms behind him. “Go,” Mercer snapped. “Get out.” For a moment, Drew just stared at him, flinching when Mercer lifted his sword and brought it down, only realising a moment later that Mercer had severed the rope binding his hands.
Drew scrambled to his feet but he stayed where he was, glancing now at Lindsay, now at Mercer, or rather, Mercer’s sword.
“Lindsay,” he said. “Take that thing off your neck. Come with me.”
Lindsay met his gaze, his own calm. “I can’t. I have vouchsafed your freedom but in return, I must go with him.”
“What? No!” Drew cried.
“It’s time you left,” Mercer told him in a deadly voice, twirling his sword in lazy circles. “Cruikshank, open the door.”
“I c-c-can’t,” Cruikshank said. His voice was oddly thick and when Lindsay looked at him, his face was contorting strangely, as though he had some kind of palsy.
Mercer let out a bellow of rage. “Open itnow!”
Cruikshank dropped to his knees, head bent and began making retching noises. Something cracked and Cruikshank let out a howl of pain.
“What’s happening?” Drew whispered.
“I’m surprised the bite took with that one...
Mercer was laughing now, watching as Cruikshank writhed face down on the floor, whimpering and moaning. “I warned you you were too old,” he sneered, then advanced on Drew again, sword high, saying to Lindsay, “Get the keys and open the door, cur. Then we can let your lover go and be on our way.”
Lindsay obeyed, crossing the room to crouch beside Cruikshank, jerking his coat aside to find the key ring at his waist. As he fumbled through the folds of fabric, Cruikshank went still and quiet, the spasms that had been racking his body finally ceasing.
Lindsay grasped his shoulder and turned him over, only for Cruikshank—or what had once been Cruikshank—to launch itself at him, tackling Lindsay onto his back with an unholy growl that sounded like nothing Lindsay had ever heard before. Like an animal trying to speak human words, a horrible distortion of a voice.
Lindsay’s breath whooshed out of him, his landing winding him so badly he was gasping for air. The silver collar at his throat felt like a garotte and Cruikshank’s face looming over him was terrible. His nose and mouth had stretched into a half-formed, lopsided snout. A jumble of old and new teeth protruded from the misshapen jaws and drool fell from his stretched, cracked lips. His little round eyes bulged crookedly.
“Gaawrroo dunnnmmeeee.”
What have you done to me?
Gasping in air and cursing the collar at this throat imprisoning his wolf, Lindsay braced his hands against Cruikshank’s chest to shove him off, only for the man to be wrenched off him by someone else—Drew—and thrown to the ground again. Lindsay scrambled to his feet, taking in Drew’s horrified expression as he stared at Cruikshank’s monstrous face. “What is he?” he whispered, but before Lindsay could answer, Cruikshank was on his feet and throwing himself at Drew with unnatural agility, his deformed jaws wide to bite.
Drew fell back under the unexpected assault. Even as he toppled, Cruikshank covering him, Lindsay was launching himself into the fray, while Mercer stood watching, rage in his eyes, his sword raised to swing.
Drew landed on the floor with a crash, his head knocking hard into the solid wall. Cruikshank was at his throat immediately, growling and snapping and trying to bite. Lindsay grasped the old man’s hairless skull and yanked his snarling jaws away from Drew. Cruikshank snapped madly and let out more of those unholy animalised words, his aged body writhing with unnatural strength. He was not as strong as a normal wolf though. Even in his human skin, and collared, Lindsay was just able to hold him, adjusting his grip to pull him fully off Drew’s body and turn him to Mercer.
