The Curious Case of the Werewolf Read Online Free PDF Page A

clutched in his hand.
    He fired, hitting the un-werewolf in the shoulder. The shot wasn't deadly, but it did cause the man to drop his own gun in surprise.
    Mr. Tarabotti lunged for the fallen weapon at the same time as the un-werewolf, and the two of them scrabbled through the ancient offerings. Alessandro struck out viciously at his opponent, connecting where the shoulder wound seeped old blood, groping for the fallen gun with his other hand.
    The un-werewolf backhanded Mr. Tarabotti, handicapped with only one working arm, and that odd British distaste for kicking in a fight.
    Mr. Tarabotti had no such compunctions. Crawling as they both were after the fallen weapon, Alessandro kicked out with one foot and managed to shove the man over. Grabbing the gun, he came up triumphant, pointing the weapon at the un-werewolf, who now crouched amongst the wreckage looking as savage as he might have in his lupine state.
    Mr. Tarabotti shot the last bullet. But the man was fast, even without supernatural speed, and managed to dodge. Frustrated, Alessandro threw the gun petulantly aside and pulled the flask of turpentine from his jacket.
    He scattered it liberally about, making sure to coat the mummy in particular.
    The un-werewolf lunged for him, seizing him by the waist and hurling him back to the floor. Mr. Tarabotti pushed against the man's chin, trying to wrench his neck. His opponent howled, an animalistic sound coming from such a human face.
    "That was you howling earlier this evening?" Mr. Tarabotti panted out the question, clawing at the creature's eyes.
    "Staying in practice, even if I can't change," came the hissed reply, as the non-werewolf struggled to hold Alessandro in a one-armed grip.
    "That's rather perverse, you know that?" Mr. Tarabotti uppercut sharply with the palm of one hand, achieving just enough leverage to break the un-werewolf's nose.
    Alessandro squirmed away. Coming panting to his feet, he brushed off his burgundy coat with fierce disgusted movements. "Is such dusty combat strictly necessary?"
    The un-werewolf only bled at him.
    Feeling deeply put upon, Mr. Tarabotti reached once more inside his jacket, pulling out the tin of phosphorus matches. He backed away until he was at the doorway. There, he struck a match and threw it at the turpentine-covered mummy.
    Seeing this action, the un-werewolf decided on self-preservation and charged past him up the steps.
    The flammable liquid caught easily, the fire quickly spreading to burn away happily at the wooden furniture and textiles scattered about. From the amount of smoke and flames flaring up from within the sarcophagus, Alessandro had no doubt the mummy was ablaze as well. He whirled and ran up the stairs and out of the tomb, coughing delicately.
    Outside, things were not as they should be. The un-werewolf was getting away, dangling precariously off the edge of the gondola of a hot-air balloon, floating upwards. A tubby sort of personage was manning the balloon's thermotransmitter and cranking up the hydrodine engine to get a steering propeller moving – a familiar tubby sort of personage, wearing a long scarf wrapped about his throat.
    "Why, Baronet Phinkerlington. I see you do own more than one item of neck wear."
    "What ho, Mr. Tarabotti? Sad business, this. I did so hope it wasn't you."
    "Working for the Crown, are we, Baronet? How menial."
    "For the Glory of the Empire, Mr. Tarabotti. Can't expect a Templar's toady to understand. Now can I?" As he spoke, the baronet succeeded in getting the propeller in motion, and then waddled over to assist the un-werewolf in flopping, fishlike, into the safety of the gondola.
    The balloon began to rise upwards, its propeller whirling mighty gusts of steam. Soon it would be at sufficient height to set a steady course back to Luxor.
    Alessandro flicked the air with the back of his hand, gesturing the men away as if they were mere irritations that had been bothering his evening's stroll.
    No record and no witnesses.
    He