Page 43 of The Wolf Professor

From the elevator, he gave them a wave before the doors closed and he was gone.

Leaving her alone with Max in the basement.

The whole day stretching ahead of them.

CHAPTER 17

Max’s mood had improved one hundred-fold.

As time wore on, he’d become totally engrossed in the historical gems he was uncovering, and less aware of Charlie. Gods, even he hadn’t realized how much valuable information was housed here.

Reading through Athelrose’s diaries, at times he’d almost felt tears forming. The young mothman had been forced to take the helm after the death of their commander in chief, an orc called Talbot Turgon, had left the monster army in disarray. Athelrose had been a mere private in the army, but he’d had an innate understanding of how to rally the monsters to pull together. He’d also possessed a ruthlessness when dealing with uprisings in those turbulent times.

As for Charlie, well, she was being the perfect research assistant, running around and finding him texts, taking down titles of books that might be of use to him and grouping them under headings on her laptop. “It’s all on my computer,” she explained.

He thanked her absent-mindedly. “Obviously, we’ll have to spend several days here in the near future, going over Athelrose and Amelia’s diaries,” he murmured, almost talking to himself.“Amelia’s account of severing all ties with her family and setting up in Motham, with only monster species as her allies, is riveting. Also, Charlie, if you can find anything about Selina, the first witch of Motham, that would be fantastic. She’s very under-represented in accounts so far, but I believe she opened the first apothecary.”

She’d nodded, her eyes sparkling, then dashed off to gather more volumes for him to check out, until he was practically buried under books, jotting down notes and headings frantically.

The Making of Mothamwas going to be a much longer book than he’d envisaged; already more chapters were taking shape in his head. He didn’t even think about lunch. Didn’t even consider that Charlie might need to eat. He was on a roll, and when Max Hunt was deeply engaged with his intellect, the rest of the world receded into the shadows.

It was mid-afternoon when he noticed she was standing in front of him with another dusty, leather-bound volume.

“I just found this.”

Max frowned, pulling himself out of an account of the early days of the Motham docklands, when humans had made monsters work for them in chains. Grueling stuff.

“What is it?” He raised a brow as she handed him the book.

“An account of the wolf mutiny.”

Max took it, frowning, and opened it to the first page, then looked at her in surprise. “This is an account of the wolf mutiny by Oliver Felcin himself. Gods, I didn’t have any idea it existed.”

She nodded, eyes shining. “Thought you’d like it.”

“Could you go check if there’s anything more about the mutiny?” Max asked, bracing himself for a shocking read.

“Sure, I found it at the top of one of the furthest shelves. I’ll go take another look.”

He made to stand, feeling suddenly ashamed he’d let her run around after him all day. “I can get it if it’s hard for you to reach.”

“Max, I’ve been up and down those ladders all morning, it’s great exercise,” she threw over her shoulder as she headed back along one of the rows.

Slowly, he opened the book, and started to read the words in spidery handwriting. It seemed like a confessional of sorts.

On the 18th of May, 48,351, I, Oliver Jeremiah Felkin, Colonel in the First Regiment of Motham City, did make an attempt with his men to overthrow our venerated leader, Athelrose Motham…

There was a sudden crackle, a blinking of the lights above Max’s head. He glanced up to the see the bulb sputter and then there was another, louder crack, and… darkness. Everywhere.

He waited, exasperated. Surely they had a generator?

Nothing happened.

Fuck.

Suddenly through the darkness, he heard a high, reedy call for help. “Max, I’m stuck.”

He jumped up, bumping into the desk, pushing his glasses up his nose as if that would help him see better. Which of course, it didn’t. “Where are you?” He fumbled for his phone, turned on the flashlight.

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