Vincent lifted his lip in a snarl as he took his seat by Scale. How he hated him. The brothers had been reluctant converts to lycanthropy, and still detested Lucas Scale for being responsible. Five years ago, just one bite of Scale’s jagged, blackened teeth had converted them both into werewolves and changed their lives forever. However, because they were experts at controlling their changes and far classier than most of the other werewolves in the Halt, they were personal favorites of Gabriel Gruber’s, and had quickly become his bodyguards.

An air of expectancy throbbed in the chilly, air-conditioned room.

“I know you will appreciate it if I come straight to the point.” Gabriel beamed. “Contrary to the expectations of our doubting friends at the Whitehall Home Office in London, we have achieved our goal. We have the Wolven.”

Angelo and Vincent joined in with the usual cheers and pats on the back that they knew were expected of them.

Gabriel held up his hands to quell the applause.

“I am afraid none of you can take any credit,” he said, his smile now ancient history, “because, of course, although I am pleased, HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN FOUND MONTHS AGO.”

Even Lucas Scale sat up straight, the smirk wiped from his face.

Vincent hid a grin and nudged his twin. Oh, boy, he thought, here we go again.

They watched in mute embarrassment as Gabriel Gruber stood up and expressed his displeasure through the medium of dance. Face flushed, he pranced around the room, quivering with temper, knocking files from the shelves in fury. He swept the espresso machine off the glass table, pausing only long enough to watch as it smashed into expensive smithereens. Gabriel’s tantrum gained momentum as he pirouetted over to Lucas Scale and thrashed him soundly with a rolled-up copy of the day’s North Somerset Reveille newspaper. Eventually he stopped and got his breath back, then carried on ranting.

“The pathetic attempts of my colleague here, with his supposedly ‘enhanced awareness,’ failed miserably. IF I HADN’T READ THIS BLASTED LOCAL RAG, I WOULDN’T BE ANY THE WISER!”

The three still sitting at the round table bowed their heads like chastened schoolchildren. Gabriel Gruber was right; if the Wolven had been in Temple Gurney all this time, he had successfully outwitted them all. Lucas Scale had even dragged Lady Iona to Helleborine Halt for interrogation, but in the two days he’d been questioning her she had denied any knowledge of the whereabouts of the Wolven.

“You said you had the Wolven,” said Vincent bravely. “So where is he?”

Gabriel flashed his perfect white teeth.

“We take him this evening,” he said. “There were one or two little details that needed to be taken care of first.” He glanced at Scale, who nodded.