Dimity giggled.
The man, apparently tired of Monique’s tales, came to join them.
The older girl trailed behind him and finally remembered her manners. “Girls, this is Captain Niall.”
Dimity bobbed a curtsy. “Captain.”
Sophronia followed suit a second later with a much less tidy curtsy and a much less pleasant “Captain.”
Monique said, “Miss Dimity Plumleigh-Teignmott, full credentials, and Miss Sophronia Angelina Temminnick, covert recruit.” Her lip curled.
The man touched the brim of his top hat and bowed to each in turn.
Captain Niall had a nice smile, and Sophronia liked his boneless way of moving. But she had a sinking suspicion he wasn’t wearing a cravat under the greatcoat. Also, it looked as if his top hat was tied under his chin like a baby’s bonnet. Since she figured it might be rude to point out the man’s deficiencies in attire to his face, she said instead, “I do hope the coachman finds his way back to civilization safely.”
“Commendable conscientiousness, Miss Temminnick, but I shouldn’t trouble yourself.”
Behind them, the sun had completely set. The airship, drifting away, began to fade into the misty, purpled sky, becoming increasingly difficult to see.
“Back in a jiff.” The young captain ambled down a little gulley, disappearing behind a large rock.
The ladies could still see his top hat bobbing, but nothing else, and that only for a moment. The hat began to melt down and out of sight. Was he crouching? It was difficult to hear anything above the wind, and Sophronia’s ears were already starting to ache from exposure, but she thought she could detect a moan of pain.
Then, out from behind the rock, trotting up the gulley, came a massive wolf. A rangy beast with dark, mottled, black-and-brown fur and a fluffy, white-tipped tail.
Dimity let out of a squeak of alarm.
Sophronia froze, but only for a moment. Werewolf! said her brain, putting everything together in one split second. The lack of shoes. The full greatcoat. Now he was coming at them.
She turned and ran straight for the nearest coppice of trees, thinking only in terms of safety. She ignored Monique’s instructions for her to stop. She didn’t even think of poor Dimity. Her only instinct was that of prey: to scurry and hide, to escape the predator.
The werewolf leapt after her far faster than any normal wolf ever could. Not that Sophronia had ever met such a monster before. She had heard the rumors about supernatural speed and strength, but she had hardly given them credence. This werewolf proved all the fairy tales true. Before she had gone more than a few paces, he caught up to her and jumped over her head, twisting in midair and coming to rest facing her and blocking her path.
Sophronia crashed right into him and fell to her back on the rough grass, winded.
Before she could rise, a massive paw descended onto her chest, and a vicious wolf face appeared above her—black nose damp and teeth bared. The face descended and… nothing.
Sophronia screwed her eyes shut and turned her head away, waiting for the deathblow to come from his other massive paw, or for those glistening canines to close about her neck.
Still nothing.
I guess I’m not dead. She cautiously opened her eyes to look up into the wolf’s yellow ones. They crinkled at her, and the beast lolled out his tongue, grinning. His massive, sweeping tail brushed back and forth behind him. She noticed then, much to her shock, that the top hat was still tied securely to his head.
This incongruity served to calm her as nothing else could have. Later, Sophronia was to wonder if this was the reason Captain Niall always wore a top hat, even when he changed—to put people at ease. Or if he believed that, whatever the form, a gentleman should never be without his hat.
She made to sit up. When he refused to let her, she said, “I won’t run again. I’m sorry. You startled me. I’ve never met a werewolf before.”
With a small nod, he backed away.
Dimity offered Sophronia a helping hand up. “Sophronia’s parents are conservatives,” she explained to the creature. She moved cautiously, suggesting that she, too, was unfamiliar with werewolves, for all her progressive upbringing. Or perhaps that is the way one is supposed to behave around them. Sophronia decided to take her cues from her new friend, and stood very slowly.
Monique minced over. “If you are quite done making a fool of yourself, Covert?”
Sophronia snapped back, “I wouldn’t want to make a promise I couldn’t keep.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. I’d better go first, Captain. Show them how it’s done.”
The wolf nodded his furry, top-hatted head.
Then Monique de Pelouse did the most remarkable thing. She sat down sidesaddle on top of the werewolf’s back, as though he were a Shetland pony.
“One holds on, like so,” she explained officiously, burying her hands in the wolf’s thick neck ruff. “Then one leans forward as much as possible.”
Sophronia thought she heard the girl’s stays creak.
The werewolf trotted off, gaining speed until he was nothing but a blur racing across the heath toward the floating school.
Sophronia squinted, trying to follow his movements. He leapt impossibly high into the air, toward the ship. He was a supernatural creature, and clearly very powerful, but even werewolves couldn’t fly. It became clear, however, that he didn’t intend to, for he appeared to have landed midair.
“Must be some kind of platform,” said Dimity.
Sophronia nodded. “Suspended on long cords, perhaps?”
Monique dismounted, and Captain Niall jumped down and came racing back to them.
He looked expectantly at Dimity.
Dimity glanced at Sophronia and said, “Oh, dear.”
Sophronia smiled. “If you’re afraid of falling, you could ride astride. It’s much easier to hang on to a horse that way.”
Dimity looked affronted at the very idea.
“It was only a suggestion.”
“You’re very calm.”
Sophronia shrugged. “I’m overburdened by strange occurrences at the moment. I’ll go next, if you like.”
Dimity looked relieved and gestured expansively with one hand.
Sophronia climbed onto the werewolf. Her mother would have had hysterics—leaving aside the whole werewolf steed aspect—at the very idea that a daughter of hers would ride astride! Sophronia merely wrapped both her arms and legs about the wolf. “I’m ready.” His fur smelled of hay, sandalwood, and pork sausages.
He started slowly, accustoming her to his gait—which was not at all like that of a horse!—then picked up speed. Sophronia hunkered down, watching the grass and rocks rush by beneath them. They neared the airship, and with a tremendous bunching of haunches and a surge of power, Captain Niall leapt into the air.
For a brief, glorious moment, Sophronia felt as close to flying as she ever would. The wind lifted her hair and dress; the emptiness of space surrounded her; the ground was far below. Then the werewolf touched down lightly onto a small platform beside a bored-looking Monique.
Sophronia climbed off. “Thank you, sir, most enjoyable.”
Captain Niall jumped back down to collect Dimity.
As Monique was ignoring her, Sophronia examined the workings of the platform. It was made of thick glass, hollowed on the inside like a box, and hung on four chains. These were looped about pulleys at each corner, which meant the whole thing could be raised and lowered as one unit.
She craned her neck, but saw neither hole nor docking structure in the underside of the airship.
A distant shrieking, getting louder and louder, heralded Dimity’s arrival.
As soon as they landed, Dimity stopped screaming—embarrassed—and dismounted. Then she sat down on the platform abruptly.