‘You’re just a squib,’ he said, as if telling her something she didn’t know.
Mallory sniffed. ‘I can still look after myself.’
‘Stay,’ he urged. ‘I’ll walk you home in the morning before I leave the city.’
‘I am not staying out all night drinking, Salty. I’ve got things to do.’ She wobbled to her feet, wove her way to the door and opened it wide just as three snarling werewolves bounded past.
Mallory watched them thunder towards the end of Hirsel Street while behind them several high-pitched howls filled the street. She closed the door and turned to Salty. ‘Alright,’ she said with heavy reluctance. ‘Maybe I’ll stay.’
He raised his glass. ‘Wise choice.’
Mallory returned to the table and sat down. ‘This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?’
Salty grinned. ‘Don’t be cross. You know you’ll have fun. I’ll make it up to you at some point.’
‘Unless you’ve got a bellarmine jug tucked away in your coat, that’s not going to happen.’
There was a knowing glint in his eye. ‘You know I don’t.’ He leaned forward. ‘But let’s get some more drinks in and if anything comes to mind, or I think of anyone who might help you find a bellarmine jug, I’ll let you know.’
Mallory sighed. At this point, resistance was futile.
Dawn was lessthan thirty minutes away when Mallory finally stumbled out of Hirsel Street. Salty had stayed true to his word and declared that he would walk her to her flat but Mallory had declined forcefully and told him to get himself away. After all, he did have a long-haul flight from Glasgow to catch.
By this hour, most of the werewolves would have found their way back to their homes to sleep off the excesses of the full-moon furry extravaganza. Although some die-hards might still be enjoying the last hour before they returned to human form, even the most determined would be fading, and energy-sapped werewolves were both easier to avoid and easier to talk to. Their wilder inclinations would have subsided and their more rational sides would have returned. Which was just as well because Mallory’s own rational side had all but vanished.
She skipped, swayed and sang, happily belting out several of the songs that the occupants of the druid pub – including the gruff barman – had been singing not too long ago. It might not have been the night she had planned or wanted, but she couldn’t deny that she’d had a fabulous time.
‘Sometimes,’ she mumbled, ‘it’s definitely better to beat ’em when you can’t join ’em.’ She paused. ‘No. That’s not right. It’s better to join ’em when you beat ’em.’ She frowned. ‘If you can’t join ’em then…’
Her voice trailed off. Screw it; it didn’t matter. She launched instead into a belting rendition of ‘I Will Survive’but she’d barely managed the first few lines when a deep growl from the shadows to her right forced her to stop. ‘Wolfie?’ she asked.
There was another long growl.
‘You should be home in bed by now,’ she admonished. She stumbled slightly, only just managing to regain her balance before she collapsed in a heap on the cobbles. ‘Then again, so should I.’ She waved in the vague direction of the growl and spun around, ready to continue on her way.
Unfortunately it appeared that the wolf had other ideas. As it padded out of the shadows with its massive, furred body facing her head on, Mallory realised that she must be very drunk indeed.
She’d never seen such a huge werewolf before. Its dark fur was glossy and gold-tipped but that didn’t disguise the powerful muscles that rippled beneath. Intelligence blazed at her from narrowed golden eyes and, for the briefest second, the wolf pulled back its lips and offered her a brief silent snarl.
‘I’ve got wolfsbane,’ she warned loudly, ‘and I’m not afraid to use it.’ The werewolf huffed. She squinted and put her hands on her hips. ‘Did you just roll your eyes at me?’
It responded by drawing closer and a tingle of anxiety penetrated her drunken haze. The wolf had shown no signs of aggression except for the tiny snarl, but what if it wasn’t alone?
She glanced upwards. The sky was already lightening so it wouldn’t be long before whoever was locked inside those lupine eyes would be forced to become human again for another month. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that only creatures on four legs could do her damage – two-legged beasts were often far more dangerous – but shapeshifting took energy. Even the most powerful werewolves would be tired and need time to recover, time she could use.
Mallory reached into her pocket; it wouldn’t hurt to prove that she really was carrying wolfsbane. Before she could pull it out and wave it, however, the huge werewolf started to circle her. Uh-oh.
Unwilling to have a predator at her back, she spun with it, keeping its sharp teeth in sight. It wasn’t moving quickly but, given her inebriation, that didn’t matter. Before they’d both completed a single turn, she was feeling horrendously dizzy. When they were only halfway through their second spin, she knew with absolute certainty that she was about to either throw up or collapse. ‘Stop,’ she pleaded.
The werewolf tilted its head. She fumbled with the wolfsbane in her pocket and this time managed to grab a handful and pull it out. ‘I’ll throw it,’ she warned. She squared her shoulders and did her best to look threatening. ‘I will. I’ll throw it in your face and…’
The wolf lunged and for a heart-stopping moment, she was certain it would bite her – but all it did was brush the tip of its snout against her closed fist. It may not have been an attack but the surprise was enough to make her to drop the wolfsbane.
Mallory gasped and side-stepped. And the second she did, her foot slipped and she plummeted to the ground.
She braced for the impact but somehow it never happened. She found herself dangling face down, hovering an inch from the ground. For one stupid moment, she fancied that she was no longer a mere squib and, through dint of drinking whisky, had discovered magic residing with her that allowed her to fly. Then she felt the hot breath on the nape of her neck and realised that the werewolf had grabbed her and was holding the collar of her coat in its teeth.
As she twisted, the wolf released her onto the cobbles and she rolled onto her back. The damned werewolf was straddling her body. It – no,he– was staring at her with genuine fury. Her mouth dried. Then the werewolf’s muzzle split and fur melted into skin. Suddenly she was no longer looking into golden eyes but amber ones.
