It had stopped raining, which McKenzie counted as a bit of a good omen. It was, however, dark - and it was still wet. After he had bounced off the eighteenth tree trunk, he slowed down a bit: there was enough light to see, but only really badly and unreliably.

The phone rang while he was crossing a small clearing. He dug it out.

"Big Bad Wolf Control Services," he said, affecting a rough accent. "Howling good service guaranteed. Talk to me."

"I cannot believe you seriously just answered your phone that way," Christine said.

"What's wrong with it? It's what people do on the phone."

"I mean 'talk to me'. It's a bit macho-macho-man, Crowbar," Christine said. "A little unreconstructed alpha male, y'know?"

"You keep calling me 'Crowbar', Christine, how do you expect someone with a name like that to answer the phone? We'll go again. Ready? Hi, this is McKenzie speaking, how may I help you today?" He said, in a sing song voice, noting the presence of three pairs of eyes in the trees ahead and a low growling. He slipped his fingers through the knuckledusters in his pocket.

"Much better," Christine said. "Just to say it's on for tomorrow, and give you some detail. The Fader says it'll look like a ring of blue fire, will appear within ten metres or so of wherever you are. He says in order to make sure it's above ground level it could be anywhere up to three metres in the air, though, but you can jump that, right? We'll send a pair of environment suits through first. You've got max six minutes from when it opens to when it closes. Jimmy wants to know how much your girlfriend weighs?"

"That's a bit of a personal question," McKenzie remarked. The wolves slipped out of the undergrowth, two of them with their teeth bared.

"Ha!" Christine said triumphantly.

"What do you mean, 'ha'? Shit. Hang on a moment. Ladies," he addressed the wolves, "I hate to be rude, but I've gotta finish this conversation. Can we do this in a couple of minutes time?"

"Ladies? Ladies plural?" Christine asked. "What are you in the middle of, Crowbar? You'd better not be cheating on your hot new hippy chick girlfriend. Which was the 'ha!' because you totally didn't deny it!"

"I don't cheat, and anyway she's not, well, yeah, actually yes she might be my girlfriend. It's complicated. You've seen her picture, she's slim, five-foot-nothing. Doesn't weigh much at all. Is there anything else? I have werewolf issues. Well, sort of werewolves."

"Werewolves? Holy shit, Crowbar!"

"Sort of werewolves. This might not even be a fight type situation, it's still resolving tactically," he put his hand over the receiver. "Thanks. Won't be a sec," he said to the wolves.

His only answer, though, was written. The lead wolf approached cautiously and dropped something on the ground a couple of metres from his feet. McKenzie picked it up - a small cylinder of leather.

McKenzie was confused. "Do you...do you want me to throw this for you?"

The wolf retreated back to the others and just stared.

McKenzie shook the cylinder, then discovered that one end opened. There was a letter inside.

"What's happening?" Christine asked frantically.

"I've got mail," McKenzie told her. He looked back at the wolves. "You want me to sign for this?" They melted back into the trees.

"Well, read it out!" Christine asked.

"It could be personal," McKenzie replied.

"It could be awesome!" Christine countered.

McKenzie sighed, dug the letter out, and unrolled it.

"It would appear that I have underestimated you. For this I apologise. Come to the castle tonight. Your friends will not be harmed as long as you comport yourself as a gentleman. Yours in anticipation, Lady H," McKenzie read out. "Happy now?"

"Absolutely. Which friends?"

"Anaharra - the princess," McKenzie replied. "Also the other two, but not the troll."

"Oh no! I get the idea that I'd like her."

"What, the troll? Trust me, you wouldn't. Shooting her's on my to-do list," McKenzie replied.

"Not the troll, doofus, the princess! I've never met any royalty," Christine corrected him.

"Yes you have," McKenzie said. "That Monaco thing. He pinched your bum so you flipped his Ferrari over with your mind. His security team shot me in the head because they assumed I did it. Never apologised, neither."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot that guy. Also it's hard for people to apologise to when you throw them off the harbourside into the sea," Christine said.

"They could've shouted an apology," McKenzie replied.

"Anyway, moving on. Obviously you should save them all, McKenzie, but-"

"Anaharra is my responsibility," McKenzie finished for her, as he set off walking again. He sighed, as he caught a glimpse of the castle. "I hate these posh dos - I never know which of the little knives it's polite to stab the bad guy with."

"You're hilarious. Go save your friends, funny man," Christine said. "The infradimentionable fireworks start at midday."

"I'll set a reminder," McKenzie said. "Laters, Christine. Book us all a table for lunch somewhere nice."

"You just robbed a bank, remember?" Christine reminded him.

"Oh yeah," McKenzie said. "Best order in then. How's the death ray supercomputer thing going, by the way?"

"About to go off big style - thanks for asking. I'm supposed to be apprehending the criminal mastermind in like ten minutes or something," Christine told him.

"Okay. Hope it goes well, have fun. Bye for now. Tell Jimmy and Susie thanks again," McKenzie said.

"See you tomorrow, you mean! Hopefully without fur. You could never rock a fur coat, Crowbar, let alone a permanent one - be careful. Now go be a hero! Bye!" Christine hung up. McKenzie pocketed the phone.

It didn't take quite as long as he expected to reach the castle, but he still had time to reload the gun. His spare cartridge only had six rounds in it now, but at least he could count on the full ten shots in the first cartridge if he needed them in a hurry.

There was a single wolf waiting for him at the foot of a narrow set of stairs cut into the rock of the castle's crag, leading up the side in a fashion not designed to instil confidence in any potential stair-climbers. The wolf looked at him, then scurried up the steps.

"Yeah, I get the hint," McKenzie muttered to himself, then started up.

It didn't take him long – he took the stairs about ten at a time. They terminated in an open door, which allowed a dim square of light to illuminate the top step. It flickered: the wind was starting to get up again, and a couple of sullen, distant rumbles and the occasional pinpoint of rain told McKenzie that he'd timed his walk through the woods quite well.

"Mr McKenzie, I presume?" A voice enquired from within. Male, and deferential. It belonged to a tall man with a lined face, dressed in a black robe, who was holding the door in one hand and a lantern in the other.

"Yep," McKenzie confirmed.

"I am Marn. My mistress sends her apologies for the stairs, Mr McKenzie. We thought that you would prefer a direct route from the town side rather than the main entrance, which, although an easier climb, faces the other direction," the man said. "Please, come in."

McKenzie did so. "Nice of you to be so thoughtful. Unusual in kidnappers."

"By ancient usage, Mr McKenzie, all travellers through this forest are required to wait upon the mistress of the castle should she so desire it. We have not exceeded the law in this respect," the man explained as he closed the door.

"Oh okay. That's just fine then," McKenzie snorted.

"If you would care to follow me, sir, her ladyship has ordered a late repast for yourself and your travelling companions. I regret that we will be unable to permit your troll companion to join us," Marn said, as he reached out and slid a tiny bolt across.

"That might not do the job, mate," McKenzie said.

Marn's expression did not change as eleven wrist-thick iron bars slid out from recesses around the door and thunked into place.

"That probably will though mind," McKenzie admitted. "She'll be gutted: she's already eaten three of your wolf-things tonight."

"Typically trollish behaviour," Marn said, as he turned and started walking along the corridor. "A great pity. Elsa, Helda and Arva were three of her ladyship's earliest subjects and had been part of her pack for a long time."

He didn't sound particularly regretful. McKenzie didn't reply. He followed Marn through the castle for a short distance.

McKenzie felt the presence of seriously hardcore magic a good minute before they actually got to the large pair of wooden doors. When they opened it hit him full force. Marn gestured him forward into a hall which was brightly lit by four globes floating in midair. A dinner table had been set with places for four. Danandra and Sharinta were seated at two of the places, giving off their usual auras of power, but the main signal in the room was coming from the woman he could only presume to be Lady H. He could tell this because she was half-wolf, half-human: she stood upright as he entered, but her hands were tipped with claws, she was seven feet tall and covered in wolf hair, and her mouth was halfway between muzzle and face.

"Grandma, what big teeth you have," McKenzie muttered to himself.

The room was absolutely packed with huge wolves: dozens of them lay down around the huge fire burning in the hearth, or sat on their haunches in groups regarding him curiously.

One of them immediately came rushing over, whimpering. McKenzie didn't draw his pistol or pull out his knuckledusters: he knew who she was.

Narra put her head against his chest and whined. McKenzie felt the sullen, cold anger he had been harbouring start to burn very hot.

"I am, so, so sorry," he told Narra: in lieu of a hug, he patted her side somewhat awkwardly. "I swear to you I'll make this right."

Narra lay down and placed her muzzle on the cold floor. Her coat was purest white.

"Right after I'm done with Lady Fur Fetish here, in fact," McKenzie said, louder, and looked up. He very deliberately drew out the knuckledusters and placed them firmly on his right fist "You're about to wish you'd never fucking set eyes on me."

"McKenzie, wait!" It was Sharinta who spoke, which surprised him.

"Why." McKenzie didn't phrase it as a question.

"Because if we want our friend to walk on two legs again, we're going to need her help," Danandra said. "I don't like it either, but there it is. Calm down."

"Please sit down, Mr McKenzie," the wolf-woman said, in a light, friendly tone completely at odds with her appearance. "If my suspicions are correct - and I believe them to be - then not only will your friend be absolutely fine come morning, but both of us will be greatly improved."

"Trust me, we have no fuckin' choice in this," Sharinta said.

"Trust isn't something I have a great deal of, for you two," McKenzie said to Sharinta and Danandra. "I think maybe I'll just go with the kill everyone and deal with the mess afterwards option."

"McKenzie! Please!" Danandra appealed to him, in a tone markedly different from her usual acerbic declarations. "Not everyone has your advantages. You are proposing to take on a very powerful sorceress. We will be obliged to assist you and while you might survive, we might not."

McKenzie stared hard at the wolf-woman, then yanked the remaining chair away from the table and sat down in it roughly. "Explain," he said. "Make it good."

"Would you care for some wi-" Marn started to say, appearing at his shoulder.

"Fuck off," McKenzie told him flatly, and he did.

"I am Lady Hesk-" The wolf-woman began, sitting down.

"Irrelevant," McKenzie cut in. "I don't give a toss what you're called. Stick to how we get our friend back to being the correct species."

A snarl escaped the wolf-woman's lips. McKenzie glanced at his watch.

"You've got one minute before I return to plan A: and fuck the consequences for anyone," McKenzie said.

"Lady Heska, I do urge you to put aside your pride and just give him the facts. We did say he was as unpredictable as he is powerful. You are aware of the lore surrounding quintessence: please recall to mind it's dangers," Danandra interceded.

"Very well," Lady Heska said – the light tone was gone, now her voice was icy cold. "A hundred and thirty four years ago, Mr McKenzie, I was a beautiful young woman, powerful in magic. A hundred and fourteen years ago, in a foolish attempt to remain a beautiful woman, I arranged to be transformed into a werewolf. I was only partially pleased with the results: and thoroughly displeased with the fact that my werewolf master was able to exercise great power over me as one of his pack. A hundred and thirteen years ago I attempted to get rid of the 'wolf' part whilst retaining the advantages conferred by the 'were' part. I-"

"Looks like you fucked up good," McKenzie cut in.

"I do not care to be interrupted, Mr McKenzie," Lady Heska growled: literally.

"I reckon you're going to find this conversation quite hard work then," McKenzie told her.

Lady Heska gave him a stony glare. "As you can see I met with some success. I have been trying to complete the transformation ever since. You see around me the results of my most recent experiments."

"Lemme guess. You turn them into werewolves and then try and turn them back."

"Incorrect, Mr McKenzie. A werewolf could make another werewolf, but I am no longer quite a werewolf. I turn them into what I am, and then attempt to turn them back."

"Not really working out, is it? I can see quite a few wolves round the place."

"So far, I have only succeeded in making...lesser werewolves, one might say. Their form is fixed, but-"

"Wrong form, yeah, I can see. Quick question, why do you need more than one test-wolf? Is it a one-shot deal? 'Cos frankly all the kidnapping is a bit much," McKenzie said.

"If by 'one shot deal' you mean to say that I can only try and reverse the process of pseudolycanthropy once for each subject, then that is not quite true. The procedure is stressful for the individual, even one with a degree of werestrength. I require a sizable pool of volunteers so that I can repeat my experiments frequently."

"I think you've got a wildly different definition of 'volunteer' from most people's," McKenzie told her. "So how does it work and where do I come in?"

"I have perfected my process, but it lacks power. I summoned your friends here as they are both powerful practitioners - I transformed your other friend in order to focus their minds on helping me achieve my goals. By combining their powers with mine, the chances of success would have been increased. However, you control the quintessence, Mr McKenzie. With your assistance, I cannot fail."

"Or it gets off the leash - pun fully intended - and wipes your castle off the landscape," McKenzie told her. "This shit is dangerous with a capital oh-fuck-we-broke-the-space-time-continuum-again. You don't control the quintessence. If you're lucky, you survive it."

"Credit me with some wisdom, Mr. McKenzie. Control is not required. Merely power, channeled into a magical machine which will contain it and transform it safely into refined magical power."

McKenzie snorted, then turned to Danandra and Sharinta. "I've heard practic'ly nothing about quint-wotsit from anyone apart from variations on the theme of 'do not use it under any circumstances'," he said. "Care to let me know why we're making an exception this time?"

"I anticipated this question," Danandra said. "This time you will not be simply releasing the power in an uncontrolled, rushing, bur-" she paused, coughed and continued. "Uncontrolled fashion. Lady Heska has constructed magical machinery specifically designed to harness natural energy and both structured and unstructured magical energy. The danger under these particular circumstances should be less than usual. It is a calculated risk that we-"

"Okay, fine. What could possibly go wrong," McKenzie interrupted flatly. "Since it don't look like I got much choice, let's get the fuck on with it then."

Meanwhile, far away in the sparkling white halls of Vyrinios, a man was making a decision.