Caste, Verne and Giordi looked up as Judd stumbled down the steps from the baths, his armour discarded and in dry clothes Verne had the presence of mind to bring him.

“How is she?” Verne asked.

“In the care of Her Ladyship’s servants.” Judd shivered, rubbing his arms. “It was kind of her to send them.”

“She sent the guards to help us too.” Verne agreed.

“We’d be dead if not for them.” Giordi folded his arms. “What now?”

“I want a soft bed and twelve hours sleep,” Judd picked up his sword, “but first, I want a word with Lord LeMewn and that wretched Clariet.”

“And…him?” Giordi jerked his head towards the dark skinned man who listened to their conversation from where he rested on the ground.

“I think he wants a word with LeMewn as well.” Judd tilted his head. The man said nothing but nodded, standing to his full height which dwarfed Judd’s considerably. “Your name is Suvau?”

“It is.”

“Judd LaMogre.” Judd held out his hand and Suvau grasped it, Judd’s fingers disappearing in his large grip.

“After you.” He said. Judd wondered if he realised just how intimidating he was.

“Ah, Judd?” Caste hovered on the opposite side of Judd to where Suvau was. “He’s still a possible criminal…what about his shackles?”

“I think he’s had enough of those.”

All five of them turned and walked out of the main square. The moon had reached its apex. There were at least three hours before the dawn but it was at least coming. Still, Judd wasn’t about to wait until ‘calling hours’ to bang on the door of the manor house.

“Aren’t you going to tell me to mind my manners?” He said to Giordi as they approached the house.

“Manners? The guy pushed you from a cliff into a dam,” Giordi exclaimed, “sure you emerged as a swamp monster which scared the living Maul out of Verne,” which evoked a grumble from the archer, “but I think manners have gone by the wayside.”

“Oh, good.” Judd kicked open the front door and marched in. “LeMewn!”

The foyer was deserted. Under any other circumstance, Judd might not have thought it suspicious as turning up at a house in the middle of the night never warranted a big welcome. But given that no one in Quarre had probably slept a wink, he was surprised that there was no one minding the door.

"LeMewn!"

"Judd, listen." Giordi held up his hand. “I can hear whimpering…” He pointed. “That way.”

Judd led the way, out of the foyer into the dining room of the manor house where Lady LeMewn was held in the clutches of her husband with a hand around her throat while the other twisted her arm behind her back. He ducked his head down, panting as he glowered at them from over Lia’s shoulder. Her eyes were wide with fright and she was unable to stifle her sobs.

“Well, LaMogre…I must congratulate you on being an excellent climber.”

“Lord LeMewn,” Judd addressed him as he hid behind his wife, “you cannot hide from what you’ve done. Let Her Ladyship go…”

“Never.” Judd frowned, LeMewn’s usually cultured tone somewhat ragged and savage. “You were supposed to die. You were all supposed to die!”

“To cover your atrocious management of this city? Well, when you’ve killed so many, what’s a few more?”

“Oh no, not a few more…just you.”

“Judd,” Verne whispered, “look at his hand.”

LeMewn’s hand flexed over Lia’s throat and Judd felt a prickle of horror. There were hairs on the back of it and his nails had sharpened into claws.

“LeMewn…let me look at you.”

He ducked his head and gave a rasping chuckle.

“Why?” Lia gasped, his grasp tightening.

“Uh…no reason.” Judd hastened to excuse.

“But,” Giordi cleared his throat, “you might want to take a look at your reflection, Lord LeMewn…it seems you are in need of a shave.”

“What are you talking,” LeMewn turned to the reflective surface of a candelabra, “about…” He peered at it. “No…no this is a trick!” He let go of Lia’s arm to pick up a platter from the table, its flat surface without flattery. “No…it cannot be!” Suddenly he saw his clawed hand and dropped the platter, horrified by his changing form. “I…no…I…”

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“You were bitten by the werewolf,” Caste said quietly, “in rare cases, when the werewolf does not feast…it is recorded that the victim, by way of transformation from the toxin in their teeth, becomes a werewolf.”

“No, no, no, no, no…” LeMewn clutched at his face. “No!”

“It’s already happening…”

“No…it cannot be! I cannot be one of hers!”

“Her? Her who?”

“The werewolf?” Giordi whispered.

Lord LeMewn was sobbing now, wretched cries interspersed with growling. “This is my curse! My punishment! I welcomed monsters into Quarre and now I am one!”

Lia was shaking, LeMewn’s grip becoming so tight it was crushing her throat…when he suddenly thrust her away from him. She stumbled to the floor, Giordi kneeling by her. Judd stepped forward.

“LeMewn,” he howled into his hands, unable to hear Judd’s cry, “LeMewn!”

“I can feel my power growing…I can feel it!” The transformation was taking him over as hair sprouted across his body, his clothing tearing apart at the seams. “I…I hear her voice! She calls to me!”

“Who?” Judd demanded, stepping forward once more. He was suddenly grabbed by the scruff of his shirt, pulled close to LeMewn whose eyes were turning amber and pointed teeth appeared, piercing his lips.

“Kill me,” he hissed, “quickly! Before it takes me completely!”

Judd faltered, his hand on his sword but unable to strike.

There was no heat in battle.

No monster to be slain.

LeMewn was still a man…and Judd could not kill in cold blood.

“Hurry! Before I forget who I am, use silver to sever man from monster before the monster is all I am!”

Judd gulped. “I…can’t…”

“Kill me now or I swear, I will tear your throat out!”

Suddenly Judd was yanked aside as the man of Maul lunged forward, plunging the silver seal opener into LeMewn’s heart. And at the same time, he put his hand out, catching LeMewn as he fell, laying him gently to the floor. Judd was stunned, unable to fully comprehend the speed or savagery of the attack. Suvau knelt by LeMewn’s side. The werewolf features were fading, the hair falling away and the pointed teeth were receding. He looked at his killer with human eyes and gratitude was his expression.

“Thank you…” He breathed, closed his eyes and died.

Judd slumped against the table.

“Is it over?” Giordi asked, looking up from where Lady LeMewn was half fainted in his arms.

“Not yet,” Judd turned to Caste, “where is Clariet?”

“I don’t know,” Caste had to wrest his eyes away from the corpse of Lord LeMewn, “maybe in his chambers?”

“Bring him here.”

“On my own?” Caste trembled. Judd was too tired to notice the fear on his face but Verne did.

“I’ll go with.” He said and he and Caste left the dining room as servants began to enter. There were a great deal of exclamations and concern over the death of Lord LeMewn. The steward even went to call for the guards.

“That will not be necessary,” Lady LeMewn said weakly as Giordi helped her rise, “my husband, Lord LeMewn, was bitten by a werewolf and in danger of killing us all. These brave souls saved us and their requests are to be adhered to. Please, provide refreshments as soon as cook is able.”

The steward bowed and hastened to the kitchen, probably to rouse the cook from his slumber if he hadn’t woken from the chaos. He returned with a white sheet which he laid over the body of Lord LeMewn. Suvau stood up and stepped back, standing by Judd’s side.

“Was there no other way?” Judd asked softly.

“The madness of Maul is undeniable.” Suvau said sorrowfully. “There is no escape.” Judd sighed and rubbed his face. He was exhausted and close to collapse. He turned to the door, wondering where Clariet was. “Perhaps he has run?” Suvau remarked.

“He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who can defend himself in the wild,” Judd paused, “although he might be able to talk himself out of any situation.” A moment later Verne appeared. “Where is Clariet?”

“Uh…upstairs, in his sitting room.”

“Well? Bring him down.”

“Judd,” Verne’s face was drawn, “for the sake of Lady LeMewn, I think you should come…and bring your sword.”

Judd forced himself upright and he and Suvau and followed Verne into the foyer then up the stairs.

“He’s only as big as Caste. Even if he protested, couldn’t you have just picked him up by the scruff and dragged him down?”

“Uh…”

Judd huffed and strode down the corridor to where Caste was waiting outside a room with the door partially open.

“Caste, what is going on?”

“He…it…” Caste was pale. “Just…look, please.”

Judd put his hand on the door and pushed it inwards…

…revealing a stone statue in the middle of the room dressed in a pure white tunic, twisted as though attempting to run from something in the room. The statue was grey and cracked as though it was made of poor stone and badly constructed. But even the crumbling nature of the statue was not enough to disguise the wide eyed horror, the contorted features of a man who had seen the futility of his own folly a split second before it killed him.

“Is that…”

“Clariet.” Caste nodded.

“But…he’s…”

“Stone. A statue.”

Judd pushed his hand through his hair. “The basilisk?” Caste nodded. “You said he blinded it. How could its gaze do that?”

Caste closed his eyes. “I didn’t realise it at the time when I entered the room…but Clariet must have gotten the basilisk out of the cage to…pet it…”

“There were eggshell fragments on the ground.” Verne explained.

“Eggshell…a baby?”

“Caste thinks the blinded basilisk hid the egg in the straw and when it hatched, Clariet was taken by surprise.”

Judd closed his eyes. “Wha…where is it?”

“It couldn’t get out of the cage. When I realised…”

“Verne grabbed Clariet’s cappa clausa and covered the cage.” Caste shuddered. “If not for his quick thinking…”

“What about the adult?”

“It was huddled in a corner, unable to escape in its blindness. I caught it and put it in there with the baby.” Verne swallowed. “You have a basilisk on your monster list.”

Judd cringed. “That’s…is that really…it’s already in a cage.”

“Judd, if you don’t, eventually curiosity will override better judgement and it’ll do this,” Verne gestured to the statue of Clariet, “to others.”

Judd swallowed. “Let’s take it outside.”

They carried the cage gingerly to the courtyard. Judd picked up his sword, feeling sick. He braced himself, grasped the sword tightly and brought it down on the cage over and over until it was a shattered, green bloodstained mess. Caste dabbed up some of the blood and applied it to his parchment, securing one of the claws that had broken off. Then, without removing the cappa clausa, the cage was taken to the household furnace where it and the red hooded cape were thrown into the flames.