The muscles across Simon’s back seized as he returned to the ballroom. He paused, leaning heavily on a table for support as he caught his breath. The room itself was in utter disarray. Upturned tables greatly outnumbered those still upright. Broken chairs and shattered table legs mired amidst the wreckage like tangle foot, threatening to trip the Inquisitor as he made his way across the room.
“Luthor?” he called out.
He had left the apothecary on the side of the room nearest the ballroom’s grand entrance, crawling toward the equally injured Mattie, though it was impossible to see either from where he stood.
“Luthor, answer me,” Simon called out again.
An unsteady hand rose over the wreckage. “Here, sir. We’re here.”
Simon rushed as quickly as his body would allow, brushing aside chairs and debris as best he could as he hurried to Luthor’s side. As he rounded a tilted table, he came upon Luthor and Mattie laying side by side, their hands intertwined even in their prone position.
Mattie’s eyes were closed, but her breathing was strong and steady. Her naked flesh was covered by Luthor’s long coat.
Simon cleared his throat and wiped the dirt and sawdust from his eyes. “I was worried about the state in which I’d find you both.”
“As were we,” Luthor said. “It appears that whatever poison with which we were injected was short-lived, dissipating quickly in our blood. My strong constitution and Mattie’s werewolf physiology seem to have overcome the pronounced sickness.”
Simon wanted to eye them both warily, unsure of such a convenient answer, but he thought better and merely sat down heavily beside them both.
Mattie’s eyes fluttered open and she looked up at the Inquisitor. “Is it done, then?”
Simon nodded. “I certainly hope so. He seemed on the verge of death when he tumbled from the balcony. I have every intention of going downstairs and confirming his death myself momentarily, but couldn’t in good conscience depart without ensuring both of your safeties.”
The Inquisitor glanced toward his companion and noticed Luthor’s disapproving glare. He needn’t ask Luthor the problem, since he was most certainly aware of the apothecary’s complaint long before he arrived in the ballroom to face Gideon.
Simon shifted his position so that he was staring directly at his friend. “Luthor, I can’t apologize enough for my delayed arrival. It was clearly a necessary evil, but a position in which I regret having to place you.”
“Where did you go?” Luthor asked.
“Gideon searched our rooms, no doubt trying to find anything that could be used against us in our upcoming battle. In our haste to leave, I had packed abnormally lightly, even for someone like myself who travels with so little. I was unable to take my Inquisitor’s kit, so I hid it as best as possible, with the hopes that Gideon and his minions would be unable to locate it.”
Luthor furrowed his brow. “Your kit? Why your kit? It’s proven completely ineffective throughout our investigation.”
“It was because of something you said. It was you who told me that mythology showed silver as a demon’s weakness.”
“Yes, as it did for werewolves, which clearly proved to be a falsehood,” Luthor said, exasperated.
“Yet, it was clearly not incorrect against demons. It was the silver that overcame his defenses and led to Gideon Dosett’s demise.”
Luthor took as deep a breath as possible, though his body still ached from the residual toxins. “Had the silver proven ineffective, then what would you have done?”
Simon shrugged. “I clearly would have moved on to plan D, or are we now on E?”
Luthor laughed, despite himself. “And plan E consisted of what, exactly?”
Simon shrugged. “The kit was filled with dozens of other useful weapons capable of killing magical abominations regardless of their disposition and affinities.”
Luthor suddenly stopped laughing and arched an eyebrow inquisitively. “Your secondary plan was to merely overcome him with a massive assortment of weaponry?”
“Sometimes brawn truly is more effective than brains,” Simon said as he climbed to his feet. “Will you both be all right as I go recover Gideon’s body?”
Luthor craned his neck so that he could look at the weak and pale Mattie. “I believe we’re past the worst of it. Go, sir, and make sure this is over once and for all.”
Simon nodded to them both before ascending the few stairs to the ballroom’s main entrance. He glanced back once more before exiting and beginning the long walk down the staircases.
Once clear of Luthor and Mattie’s sight, Simon began walking with a much more pronounced limp. His lower back felt as though acid had been poured into both hips and every step sent pain rolling through his shoulders and neck. He knew he needed medical attention as much, if not more so, than his two companions upstairs, but he refused to succumb to his injuries until he saw Gideon’s corpse for himself.
After an eternity of descending stairs, he stepped onto the foyer’s hardwood floor and strode toward the front door. It was only as his hand closed on the door handle that he paused, realizing that if he were incorrect, that if Gideon somehow survived the silver bullets and the three-story fall, then the battle could very well be raging still beyond the doorway. Though he was a warrior at heart, he doubted his body could withstand much more fighting today.
With a deep breath, he pulled the door open. The estate beyond the door was blanketed in silence. There were bodies strewn across the snow-covered courtyard, both humans and werewolves. Red blood was smeared across the roadway directly in front of the mansion. Amidst the bodies, however, werewolves padded softly through the snow. The humans still on their feet milled about confusedly, as though unsure of how they had come to be on the estate in the first place, much less embroiled in a battle with fur-covered monstrosities.
Simon smiled and stepped onto the covered porch. One of the larger werewolves broke from its pack and strode over to the base of the stairs. It looked up at him and shivered as it began its transformation. The fur fell away in droves, crashing to the ground in gelatinous chunks that dissolved on the ground. With a final sturdy shake, the last vestiges of the werewolf disappeared, replaced by a short-haired, naked woman.
“Chieftain Kidnip,” Simon remarked.
He glanced over his shoulder and noted a winter jacket hanging from a peg just inside the estate’s doorway. He retrieved it and offered it to the woman, who quickly covered herself.
“It seems that it’s finally over, Inquisitor,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to where a small group of werewolves huddled around a fallen form.
“It would appear that you know far better than I,” Simon remarked as he walked gingerly down the last couple stairs that led to the road beyond.
Despite the pain, he stood upright as he walked toward the throng of wolves. Sensing his approach, they quickly parted, allowing Simon his first view of the deceased demon. Gideon’s dark skin remained as it had been before his fall, though its surface was marred with hundreds of the silvery tendrils, extending as far as his neck and face. One horn had shattered in his fall and pieces of the curved bone were strewn across the roadway. His eyes remained open, though a droplet of liquid silver pooled in the corners like tears.
“Then it’s finally done,” he remarked.
He turned toward the stupefied humans wandering the ground and pointed at a pair of burly men.
“Come here,” he ordered. As they approached, they paused nervously before the demon’s body. “Find a wagon and collect this body. I’ll give you disposition instructions once that task is complete.”
The two men stared at one another before glancing down, once again, at the vile darkness of the demon at their feet. Neither man seemed keen to move, as though frozen in place now that Gideon’s spell was broken.
“For God’s sake,” Simon chided, “act like men instead of schoolyard children. It’s dead and not likely to rise from its grave. Treat it as a corpse
instead of what it once was and go find me my wagon!”
The two men nodded quickly and hurried off. With their departure, Simon could sense other eyes upon him, boring into his back even as he examined the corpse. He turned slowly and found himself facing the chieftain. A number of her werewolves were behind her, having never transformed back into human appearances.
“What of us now, Inquisitor?” Kidnip asked, a tinge of threat staining her words. “We formed an uneasy truce so that we could bring down a much larger threat.”
“Now that the demon is dead, our truce is at an end,” Simon surmised. “Is that what concerns you?”
“You called more of your kind to Haversham. The mention of both werewolves and demons will bring them in droves. What of the werewolves now, Inquisitor?” Every mention of his title was said with slightly more vitriol.
“Now nothing,” Simon replied cryptically. “Now you return to your villages or even roam the streets of Haversham in your human forms for all I care. I ask only one thing of you—allow me to keep the two autopsied werewolves.”
Kidnip bristled at the request. “Those are our kinsmen. Is it not vile enough that you cut them apart for your examination? Now you want to deny them a proper burial amongst their own kind?”
Simon raised his hand to calm her ire. “I understand your hesitation far more than you would believe. Had I known the truth of your kind at the time of my autopsy, I would have never proceeded. However, those droves of Inquisitors that you mentioned will need to be placated. They expect werewolves and demons. I have a corpse of a demon to satisfy their curiosity but if they arrive and there is not a werewolf to be seen, they will march their army across this land, from mountain range to mountain range searching for you and your kind.”
He stepped forward and lowered his voice so that only Kidnip could hear him. “I offer you a choice, albeit a difficult one to make. Say your farewells to your two fallen comrades and let me present their bodies as an appeasement to the Inquisitors, or risk bringing the full wrath of not just the Inquisitors, but the Order of Kinder Pel down on Haversham and all your kind.”
Chieftain Kidnip blanched at the thought of the Pellites, whose reputation for brutality had spread to all corners of the kingdom, no matter how remote. She swallowed hard before replying.
“Let me consult with the rest of the tribe. You’ll have my answer by morning.”
Simon nodded. “I would expect nothing less. Thank you, for everything you’ve done here.”
Kidnip stripped away the winter coat and transformed into a werewolf once more. She turned and howled, the other wolves echoing her call as they ran toward the exit to the estate.
Simon watched them depart before turning his attention back to the deceased demon at his feet. He frowned at Gideon’s body before rearing back and kicking it painfully in the ribs for good measure.