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The other man smirked, flicking his gaze from his fellow werewolf back to Paige. “Don’t worry, Jacob. She’s just trying to make us fight amongst ourselves to save her own life.”
They each took a few steps toward her.
Paige lifted one shoulder in the air, swaying from side to side. “Not really. I could care less about my own life. It’s only temporary anyway. What I wanted was to draw you into the room a little bit farther.”
The men’s foreheads crinkled as they exchanged a glance.
“Now, my fake friends!” Paige called.
Two iterations of Dewey flew from the darkened corners of the room, a rope stretched between them. They circled round and round the two men, binding them tightly together.
Paige whipped the board Dewey had used earlier to hit Helen and cracked them each across the skull. Their heads lolled as they lost consciousness.
“Let’s go!” the real Paige shouted, leaping from behind the mirror and grabbing hold of it.
Dewey flew into the air, clutching the key fob for the rental. “Go, Paige army, go!”
An army of ten duplicate Paiges hurried to the mirror and lifted it, then they raced from the room with the real Paige and Dewey following behind. Paige gave one glance over her shoulder at the eleventh copy and the two copies of Dewey guarding the incapacitated wolves.
Her copy gave her a nod, and the two Deweys offered thumbs-up. Paige returned the gesture before hurrying behind the small army of copies carrying the mirror from the hidden chamber.
A dark heap lay in front of them as they continued up toward the library. Dewey waved the flashlight over it. Paige recognized Helen’s lifeless form. She darted toward the woman and stuck her fingers to her throat, feeling for a pulse.
She offered the woman a rueful glance as she slid her eyelids closed with her fingertips. “You shouldn’t have trusted them, Helen.”
A roar sounded from the secret room. Then a shriek sounded from within, coming from the copy of Paige.
“Run!” her voice gurgled from inside the chamber.
“Come on, Paige,” Dewey shouted, waving her along.
Paige rose from her crouch as one of the men stumbled to the doorway, doubling over as he pushed his body to transform into wolf form.
“Run, Paige,” Dewey screamed.
With wide eyes, Paige spun on her heel and raced up the passage behind the flying dragon. The claws of the wolf scratched at the stone floor behind them as he charged toward them.
They skidded out of the passage and into the library. Dewey rammed into the bookshelf, trying to push it closed. Paige leaned her weight against it. It scraped its way across the floor, the gap to the passage closing.
Before it shut all the way, a wolf’s paw stuck from inside. Yellowed claws dug into the wood, and his bulk pushed back against them.
“Push, Paige,” Dewey shouted.
Paige spun, pushing her back against the bookcase and bracing her feet. As the large wolf slammed his shoulder into the back of the shelf again, her feet slid on the floor. She winced as she tried to push back.
“Dewey,” she spat out, “get the poker and hit him!”
Dewey glanced across the room at the poker lying on the floor in front of the splintered entry doors. He flitted across the room, snatched the metal rod from the hardwood, and returned. He swung and smacked the wolf’s paw with it.
The wolf howled but did not let go of his hold on the shelf.
“Hit him,” Paige screeched.
Dewey struck him again and again, but the wolf maintained his grip. The gap began to widen as he pushed Paige farther into the room.
“It’s not working,” Dewey shouted over the wolf’s growl.
Paige’s feet slipped and slid as she struggled to maintain her footing.
