"The data confirm it, Steed. There is a ninety-eight point nine six chance of another attack tonight," Humphrey Ellis of the ministry's research department pointed to a graph projected on the wall. Steed stood up and moved closer, peering at it from the side so as not to block the projector.
"Ninety-eight point nine six," he repeated, his head snapping around toward Ellis.
"The graph shows the pattern. The frequency of attacks has steadily increased, but only within five day windows around the full moon each month. The attack two nights ago was at the apex of the lunar cycle. Tonight is the outer range of this window."
"And there was no attack last night," Steed added, moving away from the wall so he could see the big picture. Not, in any case, in St. James's.
"And," Ellis paused until Steed turned his head to look at him, "Tonight is Halloween. No self-respecting werewolf could resist."
ooooo
Steed tucked the wolf mask into his trouser pocket, adjusted his flowing black cape around his shoulders, and tapped the head of his walking stick on Mrs. Peel's front door. It opened an instant later and he caught a glimpse of bare arm and leg before she spun on away on her heels, her own black cloak swishing into place to conceal the rest of her costume. She paused and looked back over her shoulder at him with a flirtatious smile.
"Ready Mrs. Peel?" he asked with a sense of anticipation. He suspected that he knew what she was wearing. He was surprised on several levels – that she would put it on again considering its source, that she actually still had it – and beneath his surprise was an undeniable buzz of excitement.
Emma turned slowly, grasping the sides of the cloak near her waist to hold it open. It was just as he remembered it when she'd worn it at the Hellfire Club: bare shoulders and décolletage drew his eye to the deceptively sheer black merrrywidow that clung to her curves. A small fringe around her hips implied modesty that was belied by the sexy, elbow-length gloves and sleek boots.
"Vixen," he muttered with a salacious grin. She smiled victoriously and stepped closer to him, lifting her chin defiantly. The gesture drew his eye to the three-inch spikes on the dog-collar around her neck. He lifted one careful finger and touched the tip of one and then even more carefully reached over it to caress the side of her face.
"We have work to do, Steed," she said, her voice full of mirth. His mouth curled in a crooked, wistful smile as he lowered his hand and offered her his arm.
"More than you know, my dear," he replied.
"What do you mean?"
"After the party, we're needed in the park. Our analysts insist that tonight is the night. Our man will attack, and I intend to be there."
Emma stopped them at her apartment door. "In that case I'll need to bring a change of clothes."
"Must you?" he asked wistfully as her stiletto-heeled boots tapped across the floor toward her bedroom.
ooooo
"Oh -- oh – almost there. Yes! Yes! Oh Yes. Perfect Mrs. Peel. Incredible! Who would have suspected such a lovely lady capable of such knife work?"
Emma set aside the paring knife and held up the peel that she had removed, on a dare, in one long strip from an apple. The party guests standing around the sofa where she was seated clapped politely as Dr. Neff's strange yellow eyes met hers over the cocktail table.
"Judging by her costume keen knife work is exactly what I'd expect," one of the other guests said.
Emma smiled impishly and took a bite out of the peeled apple.
"No no my dear, the peel," Neff said with a chuckle. "Toss the peel over your shoulder and the spirits will make it will land in the shape of your beloved's initial. That's the tradition."
Emma arched one brow skeptically, setting the peeled apple on a paper napkin on the table. She gathered the length of peel into one hand and stood up. "Just toss it on the floor?" she asked.
Neff nodded, an encouraging grin splitting his long face. Emma could not help noticing that his teeth seemed unnaturally large.
She squared her shoulders, tried for the sort of serious expression that seemed appropriate for this mystical rite, and tossed the peel over her shoulder.
"Hello? Is this the party?" a new crowd of guests tumbled from the entry hall through the parlor doorway. Emma turned around at the sound just as Steed came from the other direction carrying mugs of mulled wine. He held them high, rotating in place as the newcomers split to pass around him and make their way to greet their host.
"Oops, what's this?" Steed asked, looking down when the crowd had thinned. Before Emma could react he switched both mugs to one hand and scooped up the apple peel. "Dangerous," he tsked. "Someone could slip."
Emma's mouth curled into a smile as he straightened and handed her one of the mugs. "Silly tradition," he murmured near her ear.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Dr. Neff had moved to the hearth. "Friends, it's time for the costume contest," his gaze drifted across the room and came to rest on Emma. "In keeping with tradition, I shall be the judge.
"Hardly seems fair," Steed whispered, observing Neff's gaze.
"Shhhh," Emma hissed.
"Please take a moment to adjust your costumes – if you need it," Neff went on, glancing over the room and returning to Emma, his expression indicating that he could not find anything about her that needed fixing.
Around the room guests adjusted collars and checked one another's wigs, props, and makeup. Steed pulled the wolf mask from his pocket, unfolded it, and pulled it on over his head. Emma watched with interest as Neff's roving gaze returned to her – as she'd known it would – and then darted to Steed by her side. He visibly stiffened, his hands plunging into his pockets and then back out. Emma could see his jaw grind beneath his dense beard.
A crash in the hall drew her attention away from their host. She rotated on the balls of her booted feet, balanced for action. Steed, she saw, was already facing the hallway. Beyond him a figure in the hall dressed as Count Dracula stood with a shattered glass in a puddle of red wine at his feet, his gaze frozen on Steed's mask.
"Bela?" Neff's voice was strained. Emma's eyes flicked to Steed and although she could not see his eyes behind the wolf mask she knew he had shot her a victorious look.
"Forgive me Crispin," Bela the vampire took a step back and hit the far wall, his eyes riveted to the shattered glass. "I am very clumsy."
"Never mind!" Neff replied with unnatural good cheer. "Someone mop up that mess. Let the contest begin!"
ooooo
"The contest was rigged," Steed grumbled a bit later as he opened the passenger side door of the Bentley. Emma patted him on the cheek before she climbed in. While he rounded the car she reached behind his seat for her bag.
"It was perfectly fair," she replied when he was in his seat.
"Of course you would say that," he quipped, starting the engine. Emma produced her black catsuit from the bag, then lifted one foot to unzip her boot. "What are you doing?"
"Changing into my 'patrolling the park' kit," she replied, reaching for the other boot. "Besides, who would you have awarded the prize for best costume to?"
Steed glanced over at her, his gaze lingering on her too long as she wiggled around, working her legs into the catsuit over the lacy merrywidow. He looked back at the road just in time to maneuver around a curve.
"Steed?" Emma prompted.
"Perhaps it was fair," he replied, glancing at her again to see her smoothing the left sleeve over her arm. She gave him a fond smile, then wiggled her right arm into the other sleeve.
ooooo
Steed had arranged for Sir Lionel to meet them at the park with equipment for their vigil. He was pacing the sidewalk along side a camouflage green Range Rover with his hands resting on a rifle slung across his shoulders when they drove up. Steed parked the stately old Bentley in front of the rough-and-tumble all-terrain vehicle.
Emma had finished donning her catsuit and put on rubber-soled ankle boots during the drive. She stepped out the car, leaving her cloak on the seat. Steed tossed his cape on the back seat, the wolf mask on top of it. Emma smiled inwardly as she realized that his remaining attire – a neatly tailored black suit with a crimson ascot and stylish black ankle boots – was not a costume at all, but attire he might wear on any day.
Steed introduced Emma to Sir Lionel, whose eyes widened in appreciation when she inquired about the make and model of his rifle. He responded to her interest, then shot Steed an impressed look. Steed smiled genially, proud, as usual, of Emma's competence in any situation and with any kind of person. Then he turned his attention to the Range Rover and their equipment.
ooooo
"Use your best judgment about where to patrol, Sir Lionel, but please try to wound, not kill." Steed said as they walked along a path into the forested part of the park. "Mrs. Peel will be at location alpha and I will be at beta. We will check in via radio every fifteen minutes."
"Well planned Steed. I shall begin at the willow tree," Sir Lionel replied, and then turned off of the trail and started through the underbrush making remarkably little noise.
"Be careful," Emma called after him softly.
Steed touched her hand and looked up the path, indicating that they should keep moving. She followed, stepping quickly to catch up and lean her head close to his.
"You should be at position alpha Steed," she teased.
"No no, my dear. I always reserve that position for you," he countered with a flirtatious smile. She returned it, then focused her attention on their surroundings.
A few minutes later Steed left her at "position alpha" – a bend in the path that offered a good view in both directions for a long distance. He kept going, and Emma caught herself thinking about Iris Mallon, who'd been attacked near here the night before last. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms to ward off a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature and paced her stretch of path. The night was pitch black, with the moon not due to rise for another thirty minutes. High tree limbs rustled in a light, autumn breeze. Small creatures made small creature noises in the woods. Just going about their business, she assured herself.
And then, finally, her radio crackled and Steed's velvety voice brought her back to the middle of London.
"Everything secure, Mrs. Peel?" he asked.
"Quite, Steed. And Sir Lionel?"
"I'm here," the hunter's voice sounded surprisingly hollow over the radio. "The willow is all clear. Nobody here. I'm commencing a search grid."
"Very well. Standing by," Steed replied. And then there was just the quiet of the forest again.
ooooo
Steed settled on a large rock at the edge of the path and opened the small valise he'd brought with him. He was surprised Emma hadn't questioned it – she had probably guessed that it wasn't surveillance equipment. He took out a small Thermos and unscrewed the cup from the top. He smiled in anticipation at the rich aroma of the steam seeping out as he removed the pressure cap.
"Check in please," Steed's voice crackled in Emma's ear.
"All's quiet here," she replied.
"Working my way toward your positions," Sir Lionel's voice was barely more than a whisper. "I'm not alone out here."
"Sir Lionel, do you need assistance?"
Emma could hear the excitement rising in Steed's voice and it made her smile. His unswerving devotion to his work – and the courageous way he went about it – never failed to bolster her own bravery.
"Just radio silence if you please, Steed," the hunter whispered back.
"Standing by."
Emma focused on the forest along the side of the path, listening for sounds made by something larger than a vole. She paced a few yards in one direction, and then back around the bend the other way. Gradually she realized that she could see more details in the trees. The moon had risen and although it was still low on the horizon it was illuminating her surroundings.
By the time the next fifteen minutes had passed she could make out the trunks of trees several yards into the forest and the path seemed as bright as daylight.
"Check in," Steed's request came right on schedule.
"All quiet, but brighter," Emma replied.
"Yes. But you know what moonrise means, Mrs. Peel."
Emma rolled her eyes, unwilling to admit any possibility of a real werewolf roaming the park. Before she could formulate a response, Sir Lionel broke in.
"Keep a sharp eye," he whispered. "It's heading your way."
"Is it our wolf?" Steed asked.
"Yes – I think so. It's on the move. I haven't been able to get a clear shot."
Emma paced her stretch of path again scanning the forest for the first sign of a four-legged attacker.
"My eyes are as sharp as they can --." The man who lunged out of the trees from the other side of the path took her completely by surprise. She dropped her radio -- the earpiece popping out as it clattered to the ground – and raised her hands to fend him off. But he had already moved inside her guard and now he wrapped his arms around her torso. She locked her hands on his shoulders at the base of his neck and used her considerable strength to push him away, at the same time landing a sharp kick on his shin. And then she recognized him – not that his identity was a surprise. It was Bela, the vampire from Dr. Neff's party.
Her kick was effective. Unfortunately, as Bela lost his balance he carried her down with him. They rolled across the path, Emma kicking relentlessly as she slipped her hand from his shoulder to his face. Her hand cupped his chin and she pushed with all her might, forcing his head back at an uncomfortable angle.
His hold around her loosened slightly. And then a gunshot exploded nearby and they both froze.
ooooo
"Mrs. Peel?" Steed pressed the earpiece to his ear. "Mrs. Peel?"
He was already on the move, sprinting up the path toward her position.
ooooo
Emma took her other hand from his shoulder and chopped at the side of his head. The blow seemed to thaw him from his momentary freeze. He heaved up, loosening his grip with one arm in order to lift himself. Emma landed another blow, this time to his neck. His responding growl was drowned out by a much louder, eerier one emanating from somewhere behind him. And then he was off of her, bowled over by a dark, furry figure that catapulted across the path.
Emma scrambled away on her hands, feet, and butt, eyes riveted on the man and beast tangled into a single, wrestling mass. And then the beast was on top, forelegs stiffening over paws planted on the man's shoulders. The man lay still.
Emma found herself looking into familiar, weird yellow eyes. He blinked once, and Emma had the distinct impression of regret in its open-mouthed expression. And then he glanced into the forest, sniffing the air, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Suddenly he bounded off into the woods and vanished in a few strides. An instant later Sir Lionel stepped onto the path from the forest, his arrival nearly silent. He surveyed the tableau on the path – Emma's attacker lay unmoving while Emma herself was getting to her feet. She pointed after the wolf.
"He went that-a-way. Go on. I'm all right."
Sir Lionel nodded to her, then plunged into the trees after the wolf.
Emma stumbled over to Bela. He lay on his back, one arm stretched out to the side. The other lay across his chest, the skin and muscles of his forearm torn in a deep, bleeding wound. She crouched and pressed two fingers to his neck, feeling a weak pulse.
Running footsteps crunched along the path. She rose and spun around, relaxing her defensive posture when she saw Steed sprinting toward her. She met him with a warm smile as he stopped a few feet away, eyes darting from her down to Bela and back.
"Is he?"
"Alive, but bleeding. Sir Lionel went after the wolf."
"The wolf?"
"Here Steed," she held out a hand to him, "Do you have anything we can bandage him with? And did you bring some handcuffs?"
He frowned at her clumsy change of subject, but opened his case and removed a pristine cloth napkin. Then he dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out a set of handcuffs. As she crouched to bandage the wound and secure Bela's hands Steed's radio crackled to life.
"Steed?" Sir Lionel sounded out of breath.
"Here Sir Lionel."
"I lost it. I only had that one clear shot, but it went wide."
"It's all right, Sir Lionel. At least we've got Bela."
"I've never seen canis move that fast. Darned odd. I'll be there in a moment."
Steed pocketed his radio and watched Emma checking Bela's pockets.
"Anything?" he asked. She shook her head and stood up.
"Oh well. We have him for this attack, and we can have Miss Mallon identify him. I think we'll be able to prove that he's Bela Zeklos, and link him to Dr. Neff. Have some Irish coffee, Mrs. Peel?" Steed held out his Thermos to her.
Epilogue"Have a look at this, Mrs. Peel," Steed stepped into Emma's apartment and handed Emma a creamy white envelope.
Emma left him to shut the door while she strolled back across the room and examined it.
"Very good stationary, neat hand – the address is written with a fountain pen loaded with indigo ink. Very discerning."
"The note inside, Mrs. Peel," Steed urged, moving to the drinks tray to pour himself a sherry.
The envelope had been sealed with black wax impressed with the letter N. Emma's brows rose as she noted this before removing the note.
"My dear Bela, I have granted your wish at last," she read the letter aloud. "May your soul be saved from eternal damnation, for now mine is truly lost. C. Where did this come from?"
"It was mailed from a central London post box yesterday and delivered to Bela Zeklos in the hospital this morning. Any idea what it means?"
Emma returned the note to the envelope and looked again at the outside.
"No return address," she observed, then looked up at Steed. "Dr. Neff is claiming to be the alpha wolf. He bit Bela, making him the beta wolf. He's implying here that Bela's is the first human blood he's drawn. A werewolf is only eternally damned when it draws human blood, before that it has a chance of salvation. I did some research."
"Mrs. Peel, are you suggesting that you believe Dr. Neff is a werewolf?"
Emma took a deep breath and tried for the hundredth time since the events in the park two nights ago to reconcile her understanding of reality with what she'd seen. The supernatural, no matter how compelling, simply could not win out in her mind.
"No. Perhaps he has a trained wolf. Perhaps it was a costume and the darkness and eeriness of the night affected my judgment. I thought I saw a wolf. But I do not believe in werewolves. However, Dr. Neff clearly does."
Steed studied her through her speech, her inner conflict clear on her face – at least to him. He knew she'd soon overcome her doubts and stand fully on the side of science. He was rather pleased to see this moment of weakness, this suggestion that she was capable of indulging in a flight of fancy. He could think of several flights he'd like to take her on.
"I was thinking of paying a visit to Dr. Neff. Want to come along?"
"I wouldn't miss it," she replied.
"Afterwards I was thinking of a hearty game dinner at a remote little inn. Someplace with two or three rooms to let and an inviting hearth."
Emma nodded. "And how long do you imagine staying at this delightful location?"
"A day or two?"
She smiled and turned on her heel, heading for her bedroom. Steed sipped his sherry and enjoyed the combined warmth of the beverage and his anticipation of the next few days.
She packed a small bag and secured her apartment in a quick thirty minutes. She had learned the art of being able to go on very short notice from him.
The afternoon was waning as the Bentley rolled to a stop on the road in front of Dr. Neff's cottage. Emma frowned as she looked at it. Overnight the idyllic garden had gone from autumn bounty to dreary winter. The summer perennials and fall blooms had faded, and the evergreens seemed to have paled in mourning for their loss. Shaking her head to clear it of such notions, Emma climbed out of the car stood by Steed's side. The same thing had caught both their eyes. A pert red and white sign planted in the lawn near the front door.
"For Lease," Steed read it.
"He's gone."
"Indeed."
They examined the house, gaining entry once again through Emma's quick lock picking. It was empty.
"I'm a bit disappointed," Emma said when they met near the front door. "Not even a note."
"You were hoping for a love letter?"
"Stop it Steed. I will admit that he was flirting with me. But honestly, you can't think he left on my account. In any case, he's obviously mad. It's ignoble of you to be jealous."
"Jealous!" Steed's eyes widened in apparent horror. Emma smirked at him, then turned to the front door.
"Will you have him found, do you think?" she asked.
Steed followed her out, checking to be sure the door was secure, and tapping his hat firmly onto his head. Jealous indeed.
"For questioning," he confirmed.
ooooo
Steed settled back down onto the settee next to Emma, stretching his legs out toward the fire as he handed her a fresh hot buttered rum from the bar in the other room.
"Ummmm," she sighed as she sipped it. As she did he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, his body's warmth combining with that of the fire and the drink to make her deliciously, drowsily content. They had the inn to themselves, except for the innkeeper, and he seemed extremely discrete. "This is a delightful place, Steed," she said, turning her face to him. He turned his as well, their lips meeting in a light, lingering kiss that presaged much more to come.
"I did think I might have to defend your honor the other night, Mrs. Peel," he said softly, watching her reaction. He had neither admitted nor denied the jealousy that she'd accused him of earlier.
"You know I'm quite capable of defending myself," she pointed out, the hint of playfulness in her tone assuring him that she was not insulted.
"But it's a gentleman's duty. Won't you allow me, should the need arise?"
"You will always be my knight in shining armor, Steed," her mouth curled in a fond, indulgent smile that drew him back into their kiss.
ooooo
On a chilly heath in southern Scotland a dark form paused to sniff the air, then ran on four legs to the top of a hill. The gigantic, near perfect orb of the waning moon hung low in the sky. The wolf's haunches dropped to the cold ground and it raised its muzzle to its sovereign, howling out its loneliness and pain in a single, sustained note.