She always wove monkshood flowers into her hair the week of the full moon.
The bisclarvet were considered nothing more than myth and fancy.
But she had seen them. Had hunted and killed them. Had lost friends to them.
She asked Matt for one of the monkshood plants from his lab.
They were offensive to the senses of the bisclarvet, even in human form, especially when the moon waxed full.
Two days before the full moon, Sir James approached her.
He took one sniff then began to sneeze and cough violently.
Emily was glad she had kept her silver knife.