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Jamie, in a low voice. “I didn’t believe him. Not really.”

      Morris pulled the Glock pistol from his belt, then darted towards the wounded animal. He placed the muzzle of the pistol beside its one remaining eye, and pulled the trigger. There was a dull thud, and the wolf lay still.

      Then as Jamie watched, it began to change.

      The fur began to thin, and seemed to withdraw into the creature’s flesh. There was a horrible series of cracking noises, and angular shapes emerged beneath the thick grey skin. The snout shortened, drawing back and flattening, the nostrils narrowing, the teeth pulling up into the gums. The lower legs straightened in a series of crunches, and the colour of the animal began to shift, from grey to pale pink. Jamie’s mouth hung open; less than a minute after the transformation had begun, the wolf was gone. Lying on the grass where it had been was a naked man, his body twisted and broken. His arms were in tatters, his eyes were missing, and his torso was covered in holes, from which blood began to ooze.

      “Believe him now?” asked Morris, placing his pistol in its holster.

      Jamie nodded, slowly.

      “There aren’t many of them,” said Morris. “Most of them live in isolation in the forests, but a few act as hired muscle. Alexandru must be serious.”

      Larissa and Kate appeared at Jamie’s shoulder, and he jumped. They looked down at the broken body, identical expressions of disgust on their faces. Then McBride shouted that Stevenson was still alive, and they ran over to where he was lying.

      The Operator was convulsing on the ground when Jamie reached him. McBride was holding the sides of his head, trying to steady him; his arms and legs beat the grass, his body jerked and twisted despite McBride’s strong grip.

      “What’s wrong with him?” cried Kate.

      “The change is coming,” replied Morris, his face ashen.

      A terrible crunching noise emerged from Stevenson’s body, and Jamie saw his forearms break. They folded on themselves, until they were almost at right angles. The Operator opened his mouth and screamed, a high, terrible wail of agony. Then the noise came again, and his shins snapped. This time the scream was so loud it was like an ice pick through Jamie’s head. Stevenson thumped against the ground, his body rocking back and forth, foam frothing from his mouth, blood squirting from his injured neck. Then, as his helpless companions watched, his jaw began to stretch, the bones grinding against each other, and his scream turned into a howl.

      Thick black hair began to sprout from Stevenson’s skin, bursting through his pores and tearing through his uniform. His eyes turned yellow, and his shaking became so frenzied that McBride was thrown loose.

      “Somebody help him!” cried Kate, her voice high and anguished.

      Morris pulled the Glock from his belt for a second time, and knelt down next to Stevenson’s head. The man, if he still was a man, was twitching and shaking on the grass, apparently oblivious to the small crowd gathered around him. Morris cocked the gun, and placed the barrel against Stevenson’s temple.

      Larissa turned Kate away from the stricken Operator and held the teenage girl’s face tightly against her shoulder, covering her eyes. Jamie watched, unable to tear himself away, as Morris pulled the trigger.

      A spray of blood and brain flew in the dark air, and then Stevenson was still. The change, which was less than half complete, reverted quickly, and within thirty seconds the Operator was lying motionless on the grass, the coarse black hair gone, his limbs straight and human again.

      *

      They dragged him under the shelter of a tangled bush, and left him. There was nothing else they could do for him; time was becoming short, and they needed to keep moving. After a few minutes, in which time Kate composed herself and McBride said a silent goodbye to his friend, they walked down the slope, towards the monastery.

      Chapter 44

      IN THE HOUSE OF GOD

      Jamie stepped into the monastery’s courtyard, and stopped dead, his breath caught in his throat. He didn’t believe in God, and therefore didn’t believe in Hell, but he doubted that even if it was real it could be any worse than what he was looking at now.

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