Mallory shuddered. She took a step back, knocking Armand against the banister that stood above the entryway. He caughther, pulling her closer to him, but she wasn’t sure if he meant to support her or himself.
“That,” he whispered, his breath grazing the back of her ear, “is not a rat.”
The beast growled, then charged so suddenly Mallory’s mind went white with surprise.
It was Armand who reacted first—shoving Mallory against a wall, making a shield of himself.
The beast’s jaws clamped onto his raised forearm. He cried out in pain.
Mallory lunged forward with the knife—aiming for the creature’s eye, but catching its ear as it lurched backward, dragging Armand with it. Armand dug his heels into the worn carpet. Mallory thrust forward with the knife again, driving the blade into the beast’s side. It released Armand as Mallory yanked the knife back from its flesh. Blood splattered across her skirt.
The beast pivoted toward her, and Mallory lifted a leg and shoved her boot into the beast’s stomach, sending it hurtling down the staircase. One claw caught on the mannequin of Triphine, knocking it askew on the metal rail. The body form struck the wall. Its head popped off its neck and toppled over, bouncing down the rest of the steps into the foyer.
The sight of the rolling, bumping head brought the beast to a halt. It stared after the head, as transfixed as a dog with a discus. It leaned back on its haunches, muscles twitching, and pounced—clearing the staircase in one leap and landing on the mannequin’s head with a ferocious snarl. Its teeth dug into the papier-mâché shell, cracking into it like an egg.
The real Triphine had drifted from behind the curtains, andwas partially hidden behind the parlor door, watching the scene with repugnance. “Why, of all the indignities…”
Mallory grabbed Armand’s uninjured arm and dragged him down the hallway, throwing open a bedroom door. It was empty of furniture, but the wall sconces still held wax candles with half-burned wicks. Mallory slammed the door shut, and she and Armand stumbled over themselves to back away from it.
“Silver,” Armand panted, clutching his bleeding arm. “Voirloups are repelled by silver, if I recall correctly.”
Mallory gaped at him. “You recognized the creature?”
“I’ve dealt with my share of monsters,” he snapped. But then his expression pinched with guilt. “Apologies. This is not how I imagined the night going. That was very impressive back there, with the knife and the…” He mimed kicking the voirloup in the stomach.
It was so comical, with his fine blood-soaked jacket and mussed hair, that a bewildered laugh tumbled out of Mallory before she could stop it. “Yes, well, luckily I had the help of a buffoon making a human shield of himself first.”
“So youdoappreciate my heroics.”
A thunder of footsteps brought their attention back to the door.
“As I was saying,” said Armand. “Those candlesticks aren’t silver, are they?”
“Brass,” she said, pulling a matchbox from her pocket. The beast crashed into the door—but the wood held. “Voirloups are also afraid of fire.” With her shaking hands, it took four scratches of the match for it to light.
Another crash into the door. The wood began to splinter.
She lit one of the half-burned candles.
Armand appeared increasingly distressed. “You can’t possibly think a little flame will frighten…that.” He pointed at the door.
“Unless you have a silver-plated sword, I don’t know that we have many options.”
He glanced around. “The window.”
“What about the window?”
“It might be unlocked.”
She squinted at him in disbelief. “I amnotjumping out a window. I’d rather take my chances with the evil half-dead wolf thing.” She pried the candlestick from the sconce. The weak flame flickered out as she did.
The door crashed inward. They both yelped and scrambled against the far wall. The old plaster cracked and dusted their backs. Armand grabbed the candlestick from her and held it aloft, brandishing it like one might a silver-plated sword.
The voirloup snarled.
Panicking, Armand threw the candlestick, hitting the creature in the leg. It bounced off, landing on the carpet with a dull thud.
Mallory scowled at Armand, who had the sense to look chagrined.
