Free Imprudence by Gail Carriger

already over the edge. Whatever cliff it was that tumbled werewolves into animal, he had fallen to the bottom of it.
    Rue spoke carefully, trying to pull him back to her with the firmness of her voice. “Paw, are you able to speak?”
    He didn’t answer, simply stared at Quesnel. Had it been night, he would most certainly be a wolf. But the sun kept him human. Well, human-
looking
.
    â€œDon’t run,” Rue advised her chief engineer. “He’ll only chase.”
    â€œMmm-hmm.” Quesnel sounded as though he, too, might be losing the ability to speak.
    â€œAre you tarnished?”
    Quesnel inclined his head.
    â€œCan you pull? Slowly?”
    Quesnel moved with liquid grace, reaching with his right hand to scrunch back the cuff on his left arm. This revealed a dart emitter on his wrist. He made a tapping flick to load it, no doubt with silver. Not big enough to do serious damage, but if applied to the right area it could certainly slow a werewolf down.
    Rue let out a shaky breath and returned her focus to her father.
    â€œPaw, look at me. Please.”
    He didn’t move.
    Instinct, this is all instinct. I have to play on that.
    She gave Quesnel a wink to let him know she wasn’t serious and then gave a small whimpering sigh. “Oh.” She put a hand to her head in the manner of Aunt Ivy. “I feel faint. I feel dizzy.” She stumbled slightly to one side.
    And he was there, big arms scooping her up. So reassuring, usually, Paw carrying her like she was a child again, but his grip was too tight.
    Rue tried a light touch to his bristled cheek. Finally, their eyes met. Yellow-to-yellow, grave and worried to glassy and… absent.
    Rue could think of only one thing that might help this situation – Lady Maccon. “Where’s Mother, Paw? Where’s your wife?”
    Lord Maccon twitched, maybe hearing her, maybe not.
    Rue tamped down on the realisation that the London Pack had been drunk and out of control last night, not for some bumbling adorable werewolf reason, but because their Alpha was out of control.
    â€œAlexia, where is she?”
Instinct
, Rue instructed herself,
activate instinct.
“I’m fine, Paw. Everything is well. You need to find your wife. She needs you.”
You need her.
    Alphas who lost their control went mad. They were put down like dogs, for the good of society. Her Paw was, more than ever before, a walking corpse.
    Something Rue said went in and stuck.
    Lord Maccon blinked and for one second he was back – her big gruff softy of a Paw. “Rue? What are you doing—?”
    She took that moment of lucidity and ran with it. “Paw, find Mother. You
must
find Mother. Now.”
    He tilted his head at her. “But?”
    â€œI’m safe.” She did not mention Quesnel. He was standing as still as could be, dart pointed, barely breathing. No need to remind Paw of what he had interrupted; it may have sent him back to that place of the glassy eyes.
    â€œI’m a modern woman, remember? Dama trained me.”
    Paw sneered automatically. “That vampire.”
    That was good. That was a normal reaction. “But, Paw, I think Mother needs you now. You should go to her.”
    He blinked again, like a small sleep-addled child. “Alexia? I should?”
    â€œYes, at once. Please?”
    â€œIf you think that necessary, little one. Is there trouble?” He set her down; huge hands still gripped her shoulders firmly.
    â€œYes, there’s trouble.” It was true enough, even if the trouble was him.
    â€œThen I’ll go.” He whirled and ran.
    Rue spared a moment to be grateful he was wearing clothing; the state he was in, it could have gone either way. She regretted that even in sunlight he could move faster than most humans. She should set a deckling to track him, but even if she was willing to risk the life of one of her crew, it was too late. He’d vanished.
    The horror of it