the crumpled suit, it was possible to make out his muscles rippling and expanding. When he finally looked up, his face was covered in grey hair, his teeth were pointed and canine, and his eyes burned with rage. He was no longer a man, but a beast.
Bracketâs men paused momentarily, before mounting a screaming charge. Carnegie bellowed in response, and hurled his chair at the men, hitting one of them dead in the chest and knocking him off his feet. Jonathan felt the platform wobble, and clutched a cable for support. Looking down, he could see the denizens of the Casino Sanguino continuing their infernal dealings, unaware of the drama taking place far above their heads.
If Bracketâs plan had been to encircle Carnegie, he hadnât counted on the speed of the detective when in his wolf form. As the men closed in, the beast threw a shuddering body block at one of the henchmen, sending both of them rolling away from the rest of the players. Using the momentum of their tumbling bodies, Carnegie kicked out with his legs and sent the henchman up into the air and off the edge of the platform. Seeing his companion so summarily despatched, the other man paused. It was a fatal error. The beast was up and on him in a flash, teeth bared, his claws slicing through the air. The henchman ducked and weaved, but there was nothing he could do in the face of such an onslaught: a thumping cuff from a paw propelled him, screaming, towards the casino floor.
Bracket swore and backed away from Carnegie, keeping his sword-stick trained on him. As the wereman advanced, Jonathan noticed that the henchman who had been hit by the chair had managed to get back to his feet. Creeping round Carnegieâs blindside, the man raised his cosh high above his head and prepared to strike. Almost without thinking, Jonathan lowered his head and charged. The collision took the henchman by complete surprise, knocking the wind out of him and sending him staggering towards the platform edge. There was a look of shock in his eyes as his foot trod down on thin air, and then he was gone. A few seconds later there was an almighty crash from the casino floor, and a howl of pain.
Carnegie whirled round at the commotion, and stared down at Jonathan. For a second there was no recognition in the beastâs eyes, only blank hatred, then he spun back towards Bracket. The conman aimed a nervous swipe with his sword-stick, which the wereman coolly knocked aside. He seized Bracket by the waistcoat, lifted him up, and held him out over the edge of the platform.
âPlease . . . donât let me fall!â stuttered the man.
âYou know what I want. Give me the ring.â
Bracket blanched. Carnegie sighed, and held him further out over the hall. âYouâre a heavy man. Canât hold you for ever.â
âWait!â His hands scrabbling desperately through his pockets, Bracket pulled out a small diamond ring and tossed it in Jonathanâs direction.
âThat the one, boy?â
âLooks like it.â
âGood.â
The private detective gave Bracket a final wolfish grin, and then let go of his waistcoat. With a scream the man hurtled towards the ground, legs and arms flailing like a drowning swimmer, before crash-landing on to the Ruelette table. The danger over, the beast in Carnegie began to recede. He dusted his hands off, and turned back to Jonathan.
âThanks for the helping hand there, boy.â He cast an appraising eye over Jonathanâs blood-soaked appearance. âBeen having fun?â
âLoads. Can we go now, please?â
The platform had completed a circuit of the hallâs ceiling, and was trundling back towards the spiral staircase. A relieved Jonathan hopped back on to the top step and relative safety. He turned to see the wereman grinning.
âHang on a minute.â
Carnegie stooped down and lifted up the tablecloth, revealing the quivering form of the dealer.
âLooks like thereâs
Jeremy Bishop, Robert Swartwood