Bunny and Anju wandered around Jim Penderry's study, exploring the many strange knick-knacks on display. Shelves housed foreign artefacts, glass jars filled with peculiar things, and books; one of which Mr Westman was reading by the window. On the walls, Bunny discovered maps, masks and a straw doll.

An ageing woman in an apron traipsed into the room, looking as mild-tempered as a Bulldog chewing a wasp. She stopped where Jim sat at his desk and clapped a wet compress over his bruised eye.

Jim sucked in a surprised breath. "Ow! Esme."

The servant, Esme, mumbled something about taking down the swelling then walked out. Anju went back to peering into a crystal ball while Bunny picked up a jar of murky red liquid.

Jim held the cold cloth over his eye and leaned back in his chair. "That's blood rain from the Isle of Wight."

She placed down the jar and examined a bundle of talismans on chains. "So, this is what you do?"

"Fascinating, isn't it? There's a whole other world existing alongside us. The world of the supernatural."

"This is quite a curious collection."

"I've travelled around the country a bit. This is my latest acquisition." He indicated to a phial on his desk.

Bunny picked up the little bottle of hair and her brow furrowed. "Is this..?"

"Found at the scene of the crime, so-to-speak," said Westman. He didn't glance up from the open book in his hands.

Jim nodded. "Werewolf fur. I have a theory that the colour of that fur will match the attacker's human hair."

Bunny lifted the specimen into a shaft of dusty daylight. "A dark-haired individual. But not young. I see a lot of grey."

The servant with the eye-patch entered the study, the sleeves of his great coat swishing at his sides. His face glowed pink from the cold. "I've brought the carriage round like you wanted, Mr Westman, sir."

"Thank you, Blinks. Take the young ladies home and then return for me directly."

Surprised, Bunny turned to Westman. "Oh, we don't wish to impose. We can walk home."

Westman closed the book and looked at her. "Walk? All the way to Hammersmith with a heavy trunk?"

"Trunk?"

"Yes. Didn't Mr Penderry tell you? Your luggage is found."

"Found?" Her spirits lifted, and she exchanged a smile with Anju. "Oh, thank you. Thank you, both."

"Not at all." Jim stood and went to a rack of tincture bottles in a cabinet. He sifted through them one-handed, checking the labels before selecting one. "I'll show you to the door."

Blinks went ahead and Jim led Bunny and Anju along the hallway. He kept one white shirtsleeve raised, his elbow jutting out, and a hand clamped to the compress on his face.

"You know, back home we put ghee, I mean butter, on bruises," Bunny told him. "It stops them turning a nasty shade."

Jim paused and peered into a mirror on the wall. He lifted the cloth and grimaced. "I'll try it."

Bunny let Anju continue to the carriage while she joined Jim in front of the mirror. A split in his lip glistened, and the skin covering his brow bone and the tip of his cheek blazed deep red. But the swelling was minimal, thank goodness.

"Hm. It's not too bad. I've seen worse," said Bunny.

It was true. She'd seen wounded soldiers return from combat.

Jim pivoted to face her, his good brow muscle lifting. "Not bad? I look like I've gone a round with gentleman Jackson."

"Who?"

"John Jackson. Pugilist champion."

She'd never heard of him.

"Never mind." He gave up trying to explain and smiled. "Were you offering to apply the butter personally?"

The suggestion made her imagine stroking his face, and damselflies awoke in her stomach. His smile stretched as though he knew her thought, and warmth flooded her cheeks. The last time a young man had flirted with her, her father had twisted the poor lance-corporal's arm behind his back, much to her chagrin. A hammer-armlock, he'd called it. Although Papa wasn't with her now, his wise words remained engrained in her mind.

A good girl doesn't encourage the advances of silly young men.

"I think you can manage it yourself," she said.

"But you have the hands of a nurse, look." He picked up her hand and raised it level with his face.

For a moment it seemed he might kiss her fingertips, and she tried to disguise her shortened breath.

"My, you are very forward, sir." She tugged her hand from his grip.

He laughed, his eyes sparkling. "I was joking, Miss Spencer. Don't look so alarmed."

"Alarmed? You must have forgotten where I was raised." Unable to suppress her smile, she whipped out her handkerchief to stem his bleeding lip. "This cut will never heal if you keep grinning in that manner."

"You see? Your inner nurse can't resist tending the wounded." His playful blue eyes were hard to ignore.

"Here, keep pressure on it."

He took over the task, then appeared to remember something. "Oh, before you go, take this with you."

He slipped a finger and thumb into his waistcoat pocket and found the tincture bottle. A label identified the pale brown liquid as Wolfsbane.

"Wolfsbane?"

"A tincture of dried aconite root and water. Be careful, it's poisonous to humans. It won't kill a werewolf, but it will incapacitate one."

She frowned. "Do you think I'll need it?"

"I hope not. But just in case, eh? It's better to be prepared. It will work if absorbed through the skin, or ingested."

She closed her hand around the bottle. "Thank you, for everything."

"It's all part of the Penderry's Bizarre service."

He extended the bloodied handkerchief to her, but she lifted a hand in protest.

"Er – keep it for now and take rest. Goodbye, Mr Penderry."

"Goodbye."

She tucked the tincture inside a pocket in her dress, and his gaze followed her out the front door. Hopefully her ordeal with the werewolf was over. If this was an end to the incident, she should be glad, but instead her spirits deflated. She'd just begun to make a new friend. Now she wondered if she would ever see the journalists of Penderry's Bizarre again.

***

When they arrived outside Appleby's house, barking dogs raced to the sitting-room window. It appeared to be a customary greeting to all who stepped foot on the property. Blinks helped carry the trunk up the footpath and deposited it at the front door.

"There you go, miss." He smiled and adjusted his tri-corn hat. "I'd better be getting back now."

Bunny thanked him before he headed up the snowy garden path.

"Do you think your uncle is still angry?" asked Anju.

"If he is, pay his temper no mind. Something has changed in him, but I have to hope the old Appleby is still in there somewhere. You might find it hard to believe but he was once a kindly man, always smiling and making us laugh." She tested the door handle and found it unlocked. "Come on."

They entered the passage and a tide of flapping tails and lolling tongues rushed up to them. Apart from the panting dogs and the scrape of the trunk on the floor, the house was quiet.

"We're back, Uncle." She peered around the doorframe and found him where she'd left him. "Good news, I have my luggage."

A little fire burned in the hearth, filling the room with warmth and the smell of smoky coal. Her uncle stared into the flames, no longer angry. Instead, his expression was slack, his eyebrows slanted with misery. Perhaps kindness would coax out his good side.

She took off her cloak and draped it over her arm. "Would you like a cup of tea? I'll make some." She hesitated at the threshold, waiting for an answer that never came. "Shall I see what's in the larder? I'm a hopeless cook, but Anju could make one of her delicious recipes this evening. We were all a little tired yesterday, and it will be nice to catch up over dinner. You must tell us about life in London. I'd love to hear everything. We'll go and unpack."

She and Anju dragged the trunk past the sitting-room, leaving tracks in the dust.

"Has your uncle never heard of a broom?" muttered Anju.

"It must be difficult to clean when you have a limp," Bunny whispered. Then she called out, "The hallway needs a sweep, Uncle Appleby. Don't worry, we'll start cleaning tomorrow. Life will be easier for you now we're here."

"Wait," he said.

Bunny released her end of the trunk and approached him. "Yes?"

He held a sheet of creased paper in his hand and dragged his gaze from the flames. Doleful eyes settled on her. "A telegram arrived from India."

She dismissed his pitiful expression and allowed excitement to bubble in her chest. "Papa? Really? What does he say?"

Did her father want her to come back?

"It's not from your father. It's from one of his men. I'm afraid it's not good news."

Her excitement fizzled out, suffocated by a cool swathe of dread. "What's happened?"

"The cantonment fell under attack. Many lives were lost."

A corpse-cold sensation crept over her skin, and nausea filled her stomach. The cantonment was her home. She knew the officers and their families well, and the servants she'd left behind at the bungalow.

My God.

The news couldn't be real. She was still asleep at home, and everything, from the sea voyage and Orson Carte, to the werewolf and the attack on the camp, was simply a nightmare.

"How can that be?" she asked, her voice unsteady. "Things were peaceful when I left. There was nothing to suggest an uprising or-"

"It was wolves."

She stiffened, the word wolves swirling in her mind. Her voice emerged in a whisper. "What do you mean wolves?"

Surely he meant the wild grey wolves that sometimes ventured out of the forests to steal a goat or two? They'd been known to attack children on summer evenings. But an entire cantonment of military men and civilians?

"Sergeant Dobbins says it was a rampage of fifteen to twenty wolves. Unlike anything he'd seen before. Monsters, he wrote. They're searching for survivors, but..." He leaned forward and dug his hands into his uncombed hair, gripping the greying tufts. "Your father is amongst the missing."

Her breaths grew short, panic rising. "Papa?"

With each breath, her corset seemed to tighten until the pain was too much. She bent over, gasping for air.

Anju stood in the doorway, her face wide with fear, then she hurried to Bunny's side. "Bunny?"

She leaned on her companion for support. "How can this be?"

***

Appetites were low after receiving the telegram. But Anju searched the bare cupboards until she found a meagre portion of bread and jam. Bunny brought Pikoo downstairs and unwrapped the leftover eel from lunch. The mongoose investigated the food warily, but soon snatched the eel between its sharp teeth and took it under the chair to devour. They ate in silence before the girls retired to the guest room.

Bunny sank onto a cushion and leaned against her trunk. Pikoo frolicked around the room, his grey fur – tipped with black – bristling when he darted under furniture and blankets. Little clawed paws grabbed her ankle and sharp teeth playfully bit her toe. The whiskers on his slim, pointed face tickled the sole of her foot. Usually, her pet's clowning brought a smile to her face, but not this evening. She was grateful when an arm slipped around her shoulder.

"They can't be dead," she murmured to Anju. "They can't be."

She was aware the news touched more lives than just her own. Uncle Appleby had never looked so depressed. And back home, the servants respected and cared for her father almost as much as she did. They'd all lived together at the cantonment bungalow for as long as she could remember. Her father's other servants were the closest thing Anju had to a family.

"Sergeant Dobbins said it was wolves." Bunny squeezed her eyes shut. "First, we're attacked in the park, and now the cantonment meets a similar misfortune. Such a tragic coincidence cannot happen, can it? There must be more to it."

Anju's voice was thick. "He said there were survivors."

"Yes, you're right." She drew a fortifying breath though it did little to ease the hurt and fear that clenched her heart. "We shouldn't lose hope. Not until we know more."

There was still a chance her father was alive. A miniscule chance, but a chance nonetheless. Now she would cling to that hope.

Anju stared at the floor quietly for a long moment. "You know, if we hadn't left when we did, we might be dead right now."

Bunny's stomach turned, and she peered at Anju's sad face. She was right. "I'm glad you're here, Anju."

The other girl tried to smile and reached down to rub Pikoo's head. "Me too. At least we have each other, eh? The three of us."

An unexpected howl thundered through the house, sending Pikoo running behind the trunk. Bunny and Anju clung to each other in fright, huddling against the luggage, their eyes fixed on the door. Then Appleby's voice rose through the floorboards, telling his dog to 'pipe down'. Both girls let out a pent up breath.

"My goodness, this whole business has put our nerves on edge," said Bunny.

Anju swallowed and looked at the snow blowing outside the window. "It's still out there somewhere."

Bunny followed her gaze. Pale moonlight seeped through the glass, casting a flurry of shadows on the walls. "If you're right, it could be anywhere. And it could be anyone." She remembered the wolfsbane Jim had given her and touched the bottle in her pocket. "Don't worry. We won't hide away like frightened squirrels. Let that thing come again, I say. We'll be ready."