Knock. Knock. Knock.

“No callers,” Viktor groaned from beneath his pillow.

The door opened anyways. “That was yesterday,” Jaq said.

“And today.”

“They’re already here,” she informed. He threw off the pillow and dragged himself out of bed. The corridor smelled like fresh paint.

Mrs. Wroll, Thomas, and Sir Owensby waited in his study. “Finally taking leave seriously, are you?” the latter greeted. “Need I remind you that bodies begin to stink?”

“Where is it?” Viktor asked reluctantly. He had not slept well.

“In my laboratory,” Owensby replied. “He’s on ice but hair is everywhere. I would have you examine the poor beast and be done with him!”

Viktor turned to call his butler, but she was already beside him with his shoes and coat. As they were piling into Sir Owensby’s carriage, Jaq stopped him with another parcel. “I’m not hungry.”

“This will help your stomach,” she insisted softly. He took it and sat with the driver. He refused to be caged with the three of them inside a stuffy, rocking box.

Sir Owensby’s home was more laboratory than house, with clean, white marble floors, white banisters, and silver or steel was favoured over gold and brass. His actual laboratory was his cellar, where the temperature was significantly cooler. Viktor crunched on cucumbers drizzled lightly with a vinegar reduction before he went into the lab. He was surprised that the nettles in his stomach did vanish.

He was also glad he ate beforehand because he would never have been able to stomach anything afterwards. Viktor donned gloves and Thomas assisted in hoisting the creature out of the ice tub. It was frozen stiff by rigor mortis. At first look, the body was a massive wolf, but the hind legs were longer and the chest broader, flatter like a man’s. The eyes were also human and the thumb claw showed abnormalities indicative of a man’s opposable thumb.

Viktor scratched these observations into one of the notebooks provided by Owensby. Thomas was a chatty assistant; the doctor had to insist that he leave the room. He wrote:

Homo sapiens male sex organs. Thirty-two teeth. Canines two inches in length. Jaw structure narrow like a wolf’s. Intricate muscle structure and low fat content. Twenty-four ribs.

Everything internally was human, only the proportions were inaccurate. The cardiovascular system was largely distorted. The chords of muscle in the legs were lean and lush from blood flow. Strong. The blood vessels were larger as well, tunnels for the heart to push blood through, although they were sensitive. The walls of the arteries were thin like paper, flexible to allow more blood through but easily damaged.

Cleaning himself off and exiting the lab, the others stood up expectantly. Viktor handed the notebook to Owensby. “He was half man, half wolf, just as described. Perhaps you will find more information in his blood, but all I can offer you is that merely shooting these creatures does nothing. Their bodies are made for speed and strength. You must injure a vital part in them. They bleed out easily, if you are able to do so.”

Thomas was looking over Owensby’s shoulder at the doctor’s notes while Mrs. Wroll inquired, “What of its brain?”

Viktor considered before speaking. “The brain was, for all proportions and shape, a man’s, but it was bruised.”

“Like it was forced into a different creature’s skull?” she suggested.

“Transformative properties,” Sir Owensby chimed. “I have noticed the same effects in the creature’s blood. When I first put them under microscope, I may as well have been looking at a dog’s blood. This morning, I wondered if I had mistakenly switched the samples to one of my human patient’s.”

Thomas stood erect. “So these things are men walking around, until they morph into wolves?”

“The madness they exhibit could be due to the stress on their brains,” Viktor commented.

“But this creature intelligently broke into your house,” Mrs. Wroll reminded. “There must be conscious thought and goals in them.”

“You will only understand the mind if you capture a living one,” Viktor stated. “Best of luck with that. Don’t invite me. Good day.”

He was nearly to the white door when Mrs. Wroll stopped him. “Sir Teagan. I must impose on you once more.”

Viktor raised his chin, stretching his neck. All he wanted was a sandwich and a large pot of tea. Or something stronger. “Yes, Mrs. Wroll?”

“I have a mind for you to examine.” Her hesitation caused him to turn around. “But you must come with me.”

“A new fieldtrip?” Sir Owensby wondered cheerily. Thomas donned his bowler and curled his mustache. “Not like the last, I hope?”

“No, but just as secret,” she ordered.

The carriage stopped before a brick exterior tucked into a small square. “She has been moved to my home,” she explained to Viktor. Inside, a single housekeeper curtsied to them. Large rubber plants potted in urns decorated with filigree and enamel added colour to the interior. A mosaic of tiles was under their feet while the white walls spiraled with the staircase.

“Upstairs,” Mrs. Wroll said quietly. She led the way up the wide, dark wooded steps. A narrow chandelier hung from the high ceiling down through the spiral. Through a corridor, she gently knocked on a closed door. The patter of feet was heard, and the door whooshed open.

“Vanessa!” a girl no older than fifteen exclaimed happily. She hugged Mrs. Wroll around her corseted waist. She was a fair thing covered in freckles with long blond hair.

“Isabelle,” Mrs. Wroll gently disentangled her. “I’d like you to meet Sir Owensby, Mr. Cleaves, and Sir Teagan.”

Thomas tipped his hat. “Hello, little lady.”

“That’s quite a collection,” Owensby chuckled. Vanessa’s gaze lifted and saw the pile of Isabelle’s wardrobe strewn over her bed.

“Isabelle! What are you doing?” she demanded, opening her arms to the mess of the room.

“Choosing dresses!” she answered like it was obvious.

“What’s wrong with the one you have on?”

“Nothing.” The girl twirled in her jade dress. “This is for today. I want to choose one for tomorrow and the next day!”

She stopped twirling and looked right at Viktor. “Where’s Jacqueline?”

The room grew silent. Thomas was the one who spoke. “You know Miss Jaq, Miss Isabelle?”

The girl nodded, returning to her selection. She held up a blue piece and tossed it onto what might have been the discard pile. “She likes dresses. She likes trousers more. You should have brought her. I’d like to meet her.”

The three men shared glances. “Perhaps next time, she will come,” Vanessa offered. Isabelle threw another dress aside. “Why do you toss them about? Agatha will not be pleased to iron them all—”

“LEAVE THEM BE!” the girl shrieked when Vanessa tried to return one to the bureau. She let the garment fall to the floor.

“All right, darling,” she consoled.

“You never let me be!” Isabelle screamed. “You meddle with everything! You killed your husband! I won’t let you kill me!”

Thomas intercepted the brush thrown toward Mrs. Wroll. “Hey now, just calm down, little lady. We’ll get out of your hair—”

“You fuck children!” she pointed her finger accusingly. “Don’t even think about my cunt!”

Thomas visibly paled and Mrs. Wroll put authority in her voice. “Isabelle! Your parents taught you to speak better than that!”

“Right before they got rid of me!” the girl shrieked, throwing a brooch. “Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out!”

The door slammed behind them. Sir Owensby held a hand over his heart. “My word. Is that what they call dementia?”

“I must apologize,” Mrs. Wroll said. “She’s growing worse. These fits used to be rare but now every moment I am with her, I am counting how long it takes for her to react.”

“When did this begin?” Viktor uttered.

“Perhaps a year ago,” Mrs. Wroll considered. “I cannot precisely say.”

“How does she know Teagan’s butler?” Owensby wondered.

“She doesn’t,” the woman replied darkly. “I’ve never mentioned a word about Sir Teagan or any of you.”

Viktor noticed how quiet it had gotten in the girl’s room. “Does it just happen or does something initiate the change?”

“I couldn’t say,” she responded. “Sometimes I walk in, and she’s just staring out the window, ignorant of me. Other times she goes whole days in my company without an incident. This rage is sporadic and unpredictable.”

“She wanted to meet Jaq,” Owensby reiterated. “Perhaps she could get through to the girl better than us.”

They all turned to Viktor. “When is your butler available?” Sir Owensby requested.