Just take it. This is no time for games.

Hell with this, thought William. Spinning on his heels, he swung a fist into Pretorius' jaw, carrying the old kook off his feet. Then he pounced, and by the time he picked Pretorius up again he had transformed, snarling and baring fangs at the old man. Pretorius looked dazed, and his head was bleeding. His eyes widened as William raised a claw--

And was carried off his feet. Something grabbed him from behind and swung with all its might, slamming him straight into the wall. Pain lanced through him. He dropped like a stone but rolled back to his feet right away, shaking his head, confused. Pretorius' monster woman stood between him and the doctor now. Pretorius chuckled. "Oh my, dear boy, I think you may have bitten off rather more than you can chew this time."

William snarled. The monster hissed. The two squared off, circling each other. She was slower, but William didn't have much room to maneuver. Another hit like the one he just took might be all she needed to finish him. She stood her ground, protecting the doctor, who was practically rubbing his hands with glee. "This is even better than I'd asked for: How often will I have a chance to see how my creation fares against a genuine werewolf? I'll be sorry to see you go, William, but at least you'll know you made a contribution to my studies in the end."

William leaped, claws extended, hoping to catch her off balance, but she batted him aside with a swing of her powerful arms. William tried to roll with the blow and came to a stop at Pretorius' feet. The old man actually put a foot on the side of his head and kicked him. Furious, William jumped up again, jaws slavering, straining to rip the doctor's throat out, but the monster was behind him and he knew the final attack was coming. He had to get out of the way--

William ducked, and Pretorius had just enough time to see the fatal blow coming before the monster's sweeping arm clouted him and he snapped against the wall, slumping over, motionless and inert. William braced himself to receive one just like it, but it didn't come. Turning, he found that the woman was merely standing there, staring without blinking, looking down at the body of her creator, crumpled like an old scarecrow on the dungeon floor. William edged away, but nothing happened. Eventually he became human again. The monster didn't move. Was she in shock? Or was it that, with Pretorius dead, she was no longer obligated to follow his commands? He wasn't about to stick around and find out.

He barricaded the dungeon door as best he could and went back to the lab. He expected an arduous search, but in the end found what he was looking for almost right away: A small wooden chest with three or four phials of white liquid, just like the Countess' notes described. He sniffed one to be sure: The smell was heady and potent, like ambergris. He tucked the box under his arm and headed back out into the storm, with the thunder and the lightning to keep him company. Maybe he should tell the villagers what was going on up here? Perhaps it would be better if they burned the place. Then again, maybe he should just let the poor creature be. He had something of a soft spot for monsters...