'The laundry chute,' Lyra explained once they were safely ensconced in the wolves' den and had taken the edge off their hunger with fruit and beef sandwiches. 'The staff use it all the time – well, those that can fit. It's great for making a quick getaway, or if you need to sneak in somewhere. I scaled it up to the top floor and got into the suite that way.'

Lee laughed, impressed.

'And here was me thinking you might get caught,' he smiled.

'Not me,' Lyra answered. 'I got into the suite no problem. The tricky part was trying to find something useful. I wasn't sure what to look for. So, I just rooted through papers and things. Most of it was dull. Lots of research papers and hotel bills. But I did find one thing.'

She extracted a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Lee. He smoothed it over his knee and examined it. The paper was a receipt for the renting of a house.

'The house is on Gooding Street,' Lyra explained. 'I know that area, and it's all derelict. There used to be a chemical factory there, years ago, but there was a big fire, and everyone had to move away. It's been abandoned since I can remember. I didn't go there much – a few dodgy people hang round there.'

'So, Mrs Coulter is renting a house in an abandoned neighbourhood,' Lee mused. 'Not many neighbours to spy or overhear things, and those that do won't give a damn. Sounds worth checking out.'

'Tonight!' Lyra stated eagerly. 'We can go as wolves.'

Lee felt Hester's warmth against his leg, knew she was trying to draw his attention, but he was wounded and angry and ignored her.

'You think I'll turn again tonight?' he asked. Lyra nodded.

'We'll be safer as wolves around there,' she said. 'A man and a girl would attract attention, but wolves… we can stick to the shadows, and even if someone sees us, they'll probably think we're dogs or something.'

Lee nodded, seeing the wisdom in this.

'Will the pack be okay without you?' he asked, half-hoping to persuade Lyra to remain behind.

'They'll be fine,' Lyra nodded. 'They won't bother hunting tonight, not after that deer yesterday. They'll stay close to home and hide from the hunters.'

'I guess we've got a plan then,' Lee remarked. 'Let's get some dinner and then bed down. Busy night ahead.'

He managed to get through the rest of dinner and cleaning up without having to address Hester more than was strictly necessary. But when he had unrolled the sleeping pack and climbed in, she jumped up onto this chest and nestled there, as she always had done.

Lee raised his hand, intending to – what? Stroke her? Push her away? His hand hovered, until at last he lowered it onto his beloved daemon, and let his palm cover her. They lay like that for a long moment, Hester trembling a little, Lee rigid with tension.

'Lee – what I said this afternoon –' Hester began.

'You made yourself clear,' Lee muttered. 'I'm a beast. A beast who feels nothing toward you. Thanks a bunch, Hester.'

He turned his face away from her, seething with fury and melancholy. Self-pity rose up in him, but he forced it away ruthlessly. He'd always loathed people who felt sorry for themselves, and he wasn't about to give into the useless emotion. But the pain, the unbearable pain of having the other half of your heart despise you –

Hester nibbled at his chin.

'Lee, you're not a beast,' she murmured. 'I was hurt, and I was mad, and there was you, running through the woods and having a rare old time without me…'

'Missing you like crazy,' he muttered. 'Like someone had punched a hole in my chest and taken my heart from me. You had no damn right to accuse me of anything else, Hester. No right at all.'

He felt her quiver.

'Lee… I never thought I could abide to be away from you for an instant. But now I've spent a night away from you, from the most important part of you, and I hated it. You had the pack, you had Lyra, but I was on my own. I never want to go through that ever again.'

'Then don't,' Lee retorted, finally turning to face her. 'Come with us tonight.'

'You want me out there with you?'

'Hester, don't be a jackass. That's my job.'

They lay in uncomfortable silence for few minutes.

'You think you're going to turn into a wolf again?' Hester asked.

'I'm not sure. Probably.'

'Is this gonna be a permanent arrangement? A man when you're awake, a wolf when you're asleep?'

'Now we're in unchartered territory. I have no idea, Hester. All I know is, I can't do any of this unless you're with me. So, if you're not, tell me now and then put me out of my misery.'

Hester pressed her proud self against him, as soft and needy as a leveret.

'I'm with you, Lee,' she whispered. 'Tonight, and all the nights after. You need me to look after you, and don't you forget it.'

'I never could,' he whispered back, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. Sleep was creeping up on him like cobwebs in an abandoned house, little by little, light and delicate but strong, so strong…

'Hester, don't go…'

Lee felt himself dragged into slumber. And it seemed only a moment later that he felt himself pulling free of the weight of his human body. It was easier this time, one strong tug and he was changed, standing in the den on four legs, regarding a wide-eyed, wild-eyed daemon who was sitting atop his sleeping form.

'My stars and garters,' she murmured. 'That was a sight worth seeing!'

What was it like? Lee asked curiously.

'It was like… the outline of a wolf. A drawing in the air, made out of golden thread. Rising out of you, and then it solidified, and here you are. I think it's you. Those eyes are darn familiar.'

Lee nuzzled at Hester, and his daemon batted at him with her strong front legs but didn't try to push him away.

Mr Scoresby! It's happened again!

Lyra came bounding out of her sleeping area in wolf-form, Pantalaimon running alongside her as a fox. The wolf-girl was obviously delighted, though she paused when she saw Hester watching.

'Relax, kid,' Hester said gruffly. 'I'm not going to tell you off tonight. I'm coming with you all on this crazy scouting mission and trying to keep you all from doing anything too stupid.'

Lyra didn't respond, but her entire demeanour changed. Her ears perked up and her jaws opened in a grin. Pantalaimon turned himself into a hare and cavorted around Lyra, before jumping onto Lee's sleeping form and snuggling against Hester.

'Show-off,' Hester grumbled. But Lee could tell she didn't mind.

Let's get this show on the road, Lee said. Lyra, you'll have to lead the way. Let's cut across country if we can – avoid the built-up areas.

No problem, Mr Scoresby, Lyra answered. Follow me!

She sped for the tunnel, Pantalaimon still in hare shape as he ran with her. Lee took one last look around the den, the wolves watching them solemnly, his body sleeping peacefully. Then he too bolted for the exit, after Lyra. Except this time, Hester was running alongside him, through the dark tunnel and the smell of cold stone, and out into the cool, glittering, whispering night.

#

The journey was longer than the direct route back to Oxford, and made longer by the indirect route they had to take through fields, over streams and around farmsteads and hamlets, but as wolves they had speed and stamina beyond even the most athletic human. And Hester… well, she was in her element.

Lee chased after his daemon, watching her running full tilt, the slightest inclination of her shoulders or shift in her weight altering her course, so subtly and swiftly it was as if she had been transfigured into water and was flowing across the land. Pantalaimon stayed as a hare, too, and Lyra chased after him, laughing as she did so. It was almost disappointing when the country began to give way to boarded up old houses and derelict streets.

It took a bit of searching to find 56 Gooding Street, the house rented by Mrs Coulter, and anyone who might have been wandering around the old neighbourhood that night would have been confronted with the remarkable sight of two wolves with daemons reading street signs. Happily, the area was deserted save for a few drunks and men who disappeared into the shadows the instant they heard someone approaching, and Lee and Lyra made their way to their destination unseen.

Number 56 looked almost exactly like numbers 54 and 58. It was a modest detached house in a state of disrepair that had long ago progressed to decay. The garden was a jungle of brambles, rhododendrons and sundry bits of rubbish. The roof had more holes than tiles and half the gutters were missing. All the windows were boarded over, and the brickwork was crumbling. There was nothing to indicate that anything at all was lurking in the house save mice and spiders.

At least, nothing that would alert a human. But the two wolves and the two daemons could easily hear low, rough voices talking, somewhere inside the building.

Let's get closer and eavesdrop, said Lyra, and they crept into the wild garden, and followed the sounds until they found the room they were emanating from, round the back of the house. The window was boarded over, but the tiniest sliver of anbaric light was seeping through the crevices between the window frame and the hoarding. And the conversation could be heard distinctly. Men, two of them, with coarse voices roughed by alcohol and tobacco.

At first their talk was mundane: the weather, the local beer, an illegal boxing match one them had placed a bet on. Chat any street hoodlum might have indulged in, interspersed with the slosh of beer in bottles and the scrape of chair legs against lino, which meant they were probably in what used to be the kitchen. Until:

'How long are we keeping them here, then?'

'Not sure. Till the lady tells us otherwise.'

'What then? Disposal, I suppose. I hate them kind of jobs. Gets messy.'

'Perhaps not. She wants 'em alive for now. Maybe she'll let 'em go.'

'Nah, can't see it. They might rat on her.'

'You seriously fink gyptians could say anything to hurt her?'

'Maybe not, but they'd be a loose end. She don't strike me as the type to leave loose ends. Which means we got to be extra careful.'

A pause. The glug-glug of beer being swallowed.

'Why'd we take this on, then?'

'Good money, remember?'

'Oh, yeah.'

Lee frowned inwardly. Those missing gyptians had almost certainly been kidnapped on Coulter's orders, judging by the conversation. Probably as blackmail, to force their families to transport the captured wolfwalker to somewhere Mrs Coulter had in mind. So, what now? Alerting the Council that Mrs Coulter was making off with their prize behind their backs would take too long and there was no guarantee they'd take an anonymous tip-off seriously…

Mr Scoresby? Over here!

He realised Lyra was sniffing by a back door, Pantalaimon as a terrier beside her. He trotted over, dodging an impressive pile of empty beer bottles on the way, and surveyed the entrance. It was a battered old piece of timber but looked sturdy enough.

No, don't look at it! Lyra said, and he refocused his attention. Use your ears, and your nose if you can. There's more than two people in there.

'She's right,' Hester whispered. 'I can hear movement, upstairs.'

Lee listened, tuning out the mumblings from downstairs, and to his astonishment he could hear something upstairs: creaking floorboards, indistinct murmurings, the scuffling of someone or something moving around – or trying to. His nose was picking up a multitude of scents too: damp, dust, the yeasty smell of beer, the savoury smell of a fish and chip supper, the stink of unwashed bodies… and the sour tang of sweat and fear.

Let me go in a take a look, he said.

We'll both go, said Lyra, and Lee was about to protest when he realised, he had no way of making her stay outside. With a sigh, he examined the door.

Let's try this door and hope it's unlocked, he said. Lyra immediately stood on her hind legs and pressed the handle downwards. Lee held his breath in case the door creaked and alerted the occupants, but luck was with them, and the door swung open easily. Lyra dropped back to all fours.

You've done that before, Lee remarked, and before Lyra could confirm or deny it, crept past her into the ruined house.

There was a matted old carpet in the hall, which Lee was immensely thankful for – he realised he now had claws that could be heard on wooden floors. The two ne'er-do-wells were in a room off to the left. There was a set of stairs at the far end of the hall, and he led the way, Hester loping alongside him and Lyra and Pantalaimon close behind.

Pantalaimon turned himself into a tawny owl and flew down the hall to perch on the bannister. He peered upwards, then looked down at the wolves and winked. Lee took this as a sign to proceed and went to the base of the high, narrow stairs. They were uncarpeted, and he proceeded slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible (and trying to work out how to climb stairs with four legs).

They all made it to the landing without incident (aside from a tense moment when one step creaked under Lee's weight) and followed the muffled sounds to another door. Lyra rose up again to test the handle – locked.

Rats, she said, dropping back down. Can we break it open? You're probably strong enough, Mr Scoresby.

I probably am, answered Lee, wondering just how strong he'd become. But it'd bring those two thugs upstairs, guns blazing. No, we need to keep quiet. I wish I had my fingers right now. I'd pick the lock.

Hester glanced at him askance but made no comment about also wishing Lee had his fingers. Lyra gazed at him admiringly.

Will you teach me to pick locks? She enquired.

Ah… we'll consider that at a less urgent time. We need to either retreat or find the keys to this door.

'Keys will be downstairs in the kitchen,' Hester whispered. 'I suggest one of you tries nabbing them and the other acts as decoy. Unless one of those guards has 'em, in which case it's fighting time.'

Let's try and avoid that, Lee said firmly. Hester, you and me will be the decoy. Lyra and Pan can creep into the kitchen and look for the keys. All right, back downstairs, and be quiet.

Going down was considerably harder than going up. Lee very nearly went head over tail more than once. But they made it down, and he told Lyra to wait by the foot of the stairs while he crept outside and raised a ruckus.

He made it outside with Hester, only to find himself at a loss about what to do next. As man, he'd have thrown a stone at the boarded-up windows or tipped something over.

What now? He asked Hester.

'Howl.'

Huh?

'Howl. You're a wolf tonight, ain't you? So, howl. You'll have them charging out here to find out what's making the noise. Just make sure you're hidden before you start making a racket.'

You're getting good at this wolfwalker business, Hester, he said, and before she could voice any objections, dodged behind a leylandii bush. He briefly wondered what howling involved, how to do it, then shrugged mentally and decided to just try it and see what happened. He tilted his head back and howled.

The sound that emerged could never have come from a human throat. It was low, penetrating, harsh but with a wild loveliness that human music could never capture. And it must have lasted for a good ten seconds before he needed to draw breath, longer than any average human could have managed.

'Yikes,' murmured Hester. 'That was beautiful. Scary, but beautiful. You might actually be able to sing like this, Lee.'

I can sing as a man, Hester.

'Sure, just not in key – get down, they're coming!'

Lee flattened himself against the ground as the two hired thugs emerged, one with a revolver in hand, the other with a bulky club.

They stood, side by side in the dark, overgrown garden, eyes scanning the impenetrable murk… well, impenetrable to them. Lee smirked inwardly. He might not have fingers, but he had a wolf's eyes. And so, he watched as they stood out there for a good five minutes, searching for the source of the disturbance.

'It's spooky,' said one, a great hulk of a man with a placid countenance and a skink daemon curled round his neck. 'This whole job is scary. That wolf the lady mentioned… it's bad luck to trap a wolf round 'ere. You're cursed if you hurt a wolf. That were a warning, I'm telling you.'

'Bollocks,' snarled the other, a skinny man with a narrow face and a brown rat for a daemon. 'Moonshine! They're just kids' tales, about the wolves. Dumb animals, the lot of 'em… happen it were a dog or summing. Come inside, and make sure you close the door this time. You left it open.'

'I never,' the big man protested, his daemon nodding for emphasis, but the smaller man ignored him. They went back inside, the big man carefully closing the door behind them.

Lee counted down two minutes, and then ran over to the back door. He reared up on his haunches and tested the handle with a great forepaw.

The door opened easily, and Lee slid inside. He could hear the two guards, back in the kitchen. He flicked his ears from side to side, searching for Lyra and Pantalaimon.

She emerged from the shadows at the foot of the stairs, a set of keys in her mouth and a glint in her eyes. Pantalaimon was an owl still, keeping a lookout from the mouldering bannister.

Nice work, Lyra, Lee said as he trotted forward to meet her.

They were on the table, she answered, tail wagging. Easy as a wink to get them. These men aren't very clever. I'd want clever henchmen.

These guys must be all Mrs Coulter could get at short notice, kid. Works to our advantage. Come on, back upstairs.

They made their way back up cautiously, but once again they managed it without incident, Lee taking care to avoid the creaky step. They made it to the door imprisoning someone or something, and Pantalaimon swooped down and turned into a black and white furred monkey. He took the keys from Lyra's mouth, inspected them one by one, before choosing one to insert in the lock. He leapt on Lyra's back and pushed it in. He heaved and strained but managed to turn it.

The lock opened with a snick.

Lyra stood on two legs to manipulate the handle, and the door opened with a low whine of abused hinges that made the wolfwalkers cringe. But no-one came pounding upstairs from the kitchen. After a moment of waiting, they peered into the room.

Staring back at them, trussed up like pigs for the slaughter and with gags stuffed in their mouths, were two Gyptians. Their dumbfounded expressions would have been very amusing in less dire circumstances.

Tony Costa! Lyra exclaimed, looking at the dark-haired young man on the left. Bernie was right! But where's his daemon?

Lee glanced around the room and espied a burlap sack hanging from a hook on the far wall. It was jumping and twisting as something inside fought for escape.

Over there, he said. Lyra, you go get that sack and get their daemons out, I'll try and get these fellas free.

Lee walked over to the captive men while Hester waited discreetly in the hallway. They were terrified – he could smell it on them, along with the unwelcome savour of fresh blood. But neither moved away, probably in an attempt not to provoke him. Their feet were bound with coarse rope, and he walked behind them to inspect their hands. These were bound with narrow cord, so tightly it had to be restricting blood flow. Their wrists were scraped raw and bloodied from their efforts to escape their ties.

Lee inspected the knots – good work. He'd never untie them as a wolf, and he suspect even a dextrous human would struggle. He lowered his jaw to the bound wrists of Tony Costa and began biting at the cords.

The poor man nearly leapt out of his skin with fright and tried to pull away. But Lee was persistent and kept up his work. After a few moments, Tony stopped fidgeting and kept his hands and arms motionless.

There was a squawk, and a hawk daemon landed on the floor besides Lee, inspecting what he was doing.

'Tony, hold still, he's trying to set you free,' she instructed.

There was a stifled exclamation from Tony, and Lee chuckled inwardly. A few more nips with his sharp teeth and the cords fell away. Tony tugged his arms forward, groaning at the pain in his abused muscles, and ungagged himself.

Lee moved onto Tony's companion, and now he had help. Tony ungagged the other Gyptian and then began rubbing at his own wrists to restore circulation.

'What the hell is going on?' gasped the other man, flabbergasted.

'No idea, but they seem to be here to help,' Tony answered, as his daemon fluttered to land on his shoulder. 'Hold still, he's setting you free. Let me get my legs untied and I'll help.'

The other Gyptian's bindings came loose, and Lee walked around again to assist with the leg bindings, but Tony was ahead of him. He tugged the rope away from his feet and moved to help his companion.

Lyra, Pantalaimon a discreet brown moth balancing on her head, walked over to stand by Lee. The second freed daemon, a water vole, scampered to her human and clung to his leg.

Lee surveyed the men with a professional eye. They'd obviously been knocked around a bit and were probably half-starved, but neither seemed to have taken any great harm from their captivity. But they were probably weak and would need help fighting if their captors realised, they were free.

Let's escort them out, Lyra, he said. But if a fight breaks out, I want you to run for it.

What? No! We're pack! I can't just leave you!

You can and you will. You think I want to face your father when we rescue him and explain I let you come to harm?

Lyra grumbled to herself but didn't say anything else. Lee eyed her for a moment before turning to the door. He nudged Lyra with his muzzle, and she went on ahead of him. He walked to the door, and turned back to look at the two men, who were standing in the middle of the room, staring.

Lee looked out at the landing, then back at the two men. They took the hint and began making their cautious way forward. Lee paused for Hester at the door, and she ran on before him. He hoped his bulk would shield her from the curious gaze of the Gyptians and followed Lyra and Pan down the stairs.

Lee winced as the Gyptians crept downstairs – or tried to. Their footsteps sounded like military drums in his wolfish ears, but although he expected the guards to come charging out of the kitchen at any moment, there was no sign of them. Everyone made it downstairs undetected, and he and Lyra led the men towards the back door.

They sneaked along the hall, barely daring to breath. It had gone quiet inside the kitchen, the guards concentrating on drinking. Lyra went first, so light on her feet she seemed made of mist. Lee was much bigger and heavier but accomplished the journey successfully. Tony Costa was next, his hawk perched silently on his shoulder, and finally the second Gyptian, cradling his daemon close.

They all crept through the back door, sliding out sideways so as not to risk it making a sound. Lee was just looking round for a safe route to lead the Gyptians along when one of them crashed into the pile of empty bottles.

Ah, crap! Lee muttered, as the sounds of chairs scraping and feet pounding emanated from the kitchen. Lyra, get away! Go to the side of the house!

He turned back towards the house as the first guard – the placid-faced one with the club – came barging through the door, heedless of what might be waiting for him. Tony Costa, with admirable composure, snatched up one of the scattered bottles and cracked him over the head with it.

The man was built like a brick outhouse, but getting a bottle smashed over your head will shake even the toughest individual. He sank to his knees, dropping the club as his hands went to his head. Tony snatched the weapon up and waited for the second guard.

'Hold it, sunshine!' the skinny man bellowed as he stepped outside, revolver at the ready. Tony took a swing at him, but the man dodged, his rat daemon snarling from where it clung to his coat. He fired a shot.

Lee and Hester crouched low as the gunshot echoed around the deserted garden. The man hadn't taken time to aim, which probably saved Tony's life. As it was, the shot grazed his right arm. Tony swore and dropped the club, while his daemon screeched.

'Easy now!' the guard said, upper lip lifting in a sneer. 'No funny stuff! You can either come back in, nice and quiet, or I can shoot you both in the kneecaps and drag you back inside. Your choice.'

The Gyptians stood, unwilling to surrender, poised as they were on the very edge of freedom, but knowing this was no idle threat.

Can we take him, Hester? Lee asked his daemon.

'Too much chance of him getting a shot off,' Hester whispered back. 'Wait till he's shepherding them back in the house and then knock him flat.'

Tony! No!

Lyra! Lee gasped. Lyra, keep back!

It was too late. She came bolting towards Tony Costa, teeth bared and ready to inflict hurt. The guard reacted on instinct. He swung the gun toward Lyra and fired.

Author's Notes: I regret nothing!

Tony Costa - Daniel Frogmore

Till next time, dear readers...