A soft light glowed from a desk in the corner. There appeared to be a great many podlike capsules suspended by some unseen means, looking as if they were hanging unsupported in midair. The pods were made of a clear material that allowed you to view what was inside, but Nat didn’t think it was glass. He peered into one and recoiled in shock when he realized what it was. He tried to drag Woody away before he, too, could see what horrors the pods contained, but it was too late.

In the nearest capsule was a tiny Wolven, barely the size of a cat. Its white fur floated dully, its face drawn into a frozen snarl as if it had died in pain.

Nat and Woody walked in sickened silence through the rows of pods. The poor, tortured creatures inside revealed the real story behind the Proteus project, and how badly it had failed.

“Is … is this how I will end up?” whispered Woody. “If they catch us, will I end up in one of those j … jars?”

“No!” cried Nat. “That’s not going to happen. They won’t get the chance.”

“The werewolves who chased us,” said Woody dully, “they’ll know the tunnel leads here.”

“Stop it,” said Nat angrily. “Get a grip. If Proteus is beyond the police and the government, we’ll go to the press. We’ll get out of here and …”

“Sssh!” interrupted Woody.

“What?”

“Someone … someone’s coming!”

BANG! BANG! BANG! The overhead lighting snapped on and the dim room filled with eye-wateringly bright halogen lights.

“Someone,” said a harsh, guttural voice, “is already HERE!”

Nat’s nightmares about Lucas Scale and the image Iona had shown them on the computer had not prepared him for the reality. Scale had appeared like a pantomime demon, seemingly from thin air. Nat’s eyes were wide with disgust and horror at the sight of the rank creature that now stood before them: a vile werewolf hybrid walking upright, against all laws of nature.

“How wonderful to meet you at last,” Scale purred, eyes glowing like two malevolent coals. “I have waited so long for this moment.”

“Don’t look at his eyes!” shouted Woody.

The expression on Scale’s raddled face, still pitted and bloody from the magpie attack, looked uncertain for a moment; then he smiled.

“You’ve hurt my feelings,” he simpered. “I never had any intention of harming you, Woody. We just did what we needed to, to get you back safely into our fold.”

Nat stood rooted to the spot, still trying to believe this was for real. Scale had haunted his dreams for so long it was almost a relief to see him for what he really was: a vile, arrogant murderer. Nat made a bargain with himself: Whatever happened tonight, he wasn’t going to be terrorized by this nightmare creature anymore.

“Cat got your tongue, boy?” Scale asked Nat. “Anything you’d like to say?”