London Shadows (#1 Penderry's Bizarre)

Chapter Seven

Nails sealed the lid of the crate, but - between the two of them - Westman and Blinks managed to prize it open. For a moment, another flash of lightning filled the hallway, followed by a clap of thunder, and the three of them peered into the box. George drew a sharp breath and stepped back.

"Cats and dogs," Blinks murmured, horrified.

From the depths of the crate stared the mounted head of the biggest and ugliest werewolf Westman had ever seen. It had long, silver fur, fiery yellow glass eyes and a snarling muzzle that revealed an incredible set of large, pointed teeth. George ventured forward again and looked with eyes as round as sovereigns.

"Jim's recent report on werewolves. Good grief."

"You won't meet one of those in London Zoo," said Blinks.

"I shouldn't wish to meet one at all," George assured him.

Westman replaced the lid and turned to Blinks. "Let's move this somewhere safe."

***

A draught sneaked in through the study window, passing through Sophie's damp dress and making her shiver. She put down the magazine - which she had almost completed from cover to cover – and gazed once more at the photograph on the desk.

Jim. Where are you, brother?

Taking great care, she flipped the frame over and turned the clasps. The back lifted away and she peeled the photograph from the glass. Jim clearly valued this picture, but she was certain he would understand her borrowing it. She had no painting or photograph of him, other than the image of him that she kept in her mind. In this anxious time, she needed to see his face.

She tucked the photograph in her bag and rose from the chair to close the drapes. The smell of a newly lit fire tickled her nostrils. Had they found fuel after all? She picked up the paraffin lamp and made her way back through the dark corridor.

Light and voices drifted down the stairs and she followed them to Jim's small library. In the room, she found the wall lamps lit and Blinks stoking the blazing coals in the hearth. The dog, Jack, stretched out in front of the fireplace.

"We have fuel?"

Mr Westman rose from his seat at the table when she entered. "Ah, Miss Penderry. I was just about to send George down to retrieve you. The library is far more comfortable than Jim's office, don't you agree?"

She glanced around the room. "Well, yes." It certainly had more seating than the study.

George peered around a high-backed armchair facing the fire. "Hello, Sophie. It was a pair of fellows from next door knocking."

"They were asking after your brother," added Westman. "They also provided us with the fuel."

George snorted. "I can't believe how much they wanted for it. They robbed you blind, Mr Westman."

There was a note of warning in Mr Westman's voice. "Never mind that. It was a small price to pay to keep the pair of you from freezing to death. As tempting as that may be, Jim would have my neck if I allowed it."

"If I didn't know better, I might think you cared about us, Mr Westman," Sophie teased. She wandered over to the fireplace and enjoyed the warmth on her cold hands. What she wished, however, was to go home, shed the rain-ruined day dress and climb into her nice warm bed.

Mr Westman glanced up at her through his lashes and she saw the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. "Please have a seat. We're likely to be here for some time. Blinks informs me that we can't travel in this storm."