The Curious Case of the Werewolf Read Online Free PDF

searched around his feet for a sharp fragment of limestone. The blaze from the lower part of the tomb had extended into the open room at the top. It lit the ridge-side on which he stood with flickering orange. It seemed the dust, itself, was flammable, and fresh air only encouraged the conflagration. He could hear the faint "poof" sound of limestone spalling in the heat.
    He found a rock of adequate size. There was enough room on the hillside for him to run up his speed. Not exactly the perfect cricket pitch, but, then, one couldn't be too picky about such things. Mr. Tarabotti may have been born Italian, but he had bowled for New College, and been widely regarded as one of the fastest on record. The stone hit the balloon perfectly, tearing through the oiled canvas right above the engine feed, with immediate and catastrophic results.
    The hot gas leaked out, deflating the balloon from one side and causing the whole contraption to list dramatically. The un-werewolf let out a howl of mixed anger and distress and Mr. Phinkerlington swore, but there was nothing either man could do to salvage the situation. Moments later the balloon burst into flames, falling to the ground with a thudding crash.
    Mr. Tarabotti paused to light a cheroot with one of his remaining phosphorus matches and then walked towards the wreckage.
    Both men were lying face down in the sand. Mr. Tarabotti turned the un-werewolf over with his foot, puffing softly. Definitely dead. Then he heard a small moan.
    "Still alive, Mr. Phinkerlington?" He pulled out his garrote and tossed the end of the cheroot away.
    No record and no witnesses.
    The fallen baronet turned his head weakly and looked at Mr. Tarabotti.
    "Looking less and less likely, Sandy my man," he croaked. "Nice bowl, by-the-by, perfectly aimed and you even got a bit of spin on it."
    "I do what I can." Alessandro crouched over the fallen man and reached forward with the garrote.
    The baronet coughed, blood leaked out the side of his mouth. "No need, Sandy old chap, no need. Do me a bit of a turn would you? For old Eustace's sake, if not mine."
    Mr. Tarabotti sat back on his heels, surprised.
    "See Leticia safe home to England, would you? Doesn't know a thing about this business, I assure you. She's only a slip of a thing, good chit, really, can't have her wandering about Egypt on her lonesome. You understand?"
    Mr. Tarabotti considered. He'd have had to investigate the girl anyway. This gave him a good excuse to find out what she knew. He'd be terribly, terribly understanding and sympathetic. Tragic accident in the desert. What were they thinking, floating at night? He'd been out for a stroll and saw the balloon fall from afar. Dashed to the rescue but wasn't in time to save anyone. Old friend of the family, of course he'd be happy to escort her home.
    Phinkerlington's watery eyes bored into him. Alessandro pursed his lips and nodded curtly. The baronet sighed, closing his eyes. The sigh turned into a wet rattling gurgle, and then silence.
    Alessandro Tarabotti lit another small cheroot off burning balloon basket. What would he put in his report to the Templars? Such an incommodious bit of business. A dead un-werewolf was one thing, but a dead British aristocrat? He sighed, puffing out smoke. They'd not be pleased. Not pleased at all. And the mummy. Did his superiors need to know the truth of the mummy? For the truth was, that was no wolf's head at all. Alessandro Tarabotti had killed enough werewolves to know the difference, emaciated or fully fleshed. No, it had been far more dog-like, small, pointed. A jackal, perhaps?
    He smoked his cigar. On the walls of that burning tomb, the jackal-headed god, Anubis, had been depicted assisting a jackal-headed man into the afterlife.
    Werejackals? Surely not.
    Alessandro snorted. But some twinge of fancy reminded him of the un-werewolf's words. They worshipped us as gods. And Ancient Egyptian gods had other animal heads. Lots of other animal heads. No wonder the