Jim awoke to the low hum of electricity. Two blurred figures stood in front of him, one leaning down to peer at his eyes. Singh and his assistant snapped into focus and Jim tensed.

"Awake at last, Mr Penderry," said Singh, standing straight.

The prince's hair was a mess, and he wore an Indian suit, torn at the shoulder; quite different to the neat English clothes he'd worn back in London. It struck home that Jim was in Singh's domain now. Midday sun seeped through the shuttered windows, casting patterns of light across the science classroom. Jim assumed they were in an empty part of the college. His satchel and rifle were on the floor in the corner, along with Westman's pistol. He tried to rub his sore head, but discovered his wrists bound with electrical wire and tied to the armrests of a chair. A cable across his chest ensured his chair remained back to back with Westman's. But most daunting of all were the wires and spring-loaded clamps attached to his and Freddie's fingers.

"I won't lie," said Singh, "I'm surprised to see you both here, thousands of miles from home. You must have really enjoyed my lecture at the science fair."

"Your lecture was mediocre," replied Westman. "Without a lovely assistant you would have lost the crowd."

Singh smirked. "Did you hear that, Gupta? I think he likes you."

Gupta grunted.

"I was referring to Miss Penderry," said Westman.

"Of course, of course. I remember her. She looked good enough to eat." Singh rolled a stick of chalk between his fingers. "Since you're both returning patrons, I've planned a special demonstration for you. The effects of electricity on the human body."

Jim flexed his fingers, trying to wriggle out of the clamps, but it was futile.

Singh placed a stool beside them and sat. "I was very disappointed to learn that you came here with the British military. Gupta took a peek outside just now. Your two friends are running around the bazaar as we speak, searching for us. But I think we are quite safe in here. Now, I'm going to ask you some questions, and if you lie or refuse to answer you will receive an electric shock."

Gupta moved to stand by a control box covered with switches and dials, and the hum of electrical current rose when he turned a dial. His fingers hovered over a switch.

Singh leaned forward, his eyes in shadow. "You know what we are, don't you?" His irises glowed yellow. "I don't mind which of you answers. Please don't be coy."

Jim was reluctant to answer a single one of Singh's questions, but it occurred to him he could pry information from his captor. "You're a werewolf."

"Yes," said Singh. "If you know this, I must assume your friends from the British army do too. Correct?"

"They're aware that your family have hidden their true nature for a long time, offering false protection to the people of Shamki village in exchange for their wealth. You've robbed them for years and killed countless innocent people. Yes, they're aware of your secret, and your horrifying crimes."

"I see." Singh, rubbed his chin. "And what are the military planning to do about it?"

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you've harmed Miss Spencer and Anju."

Singh regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "So that's why you're here. Of course, I should have realised. Miss Spencer. You had her handkerchief that evening and kindly led me to her house. She's a friend of yours."

Jim's calm evaporated. "Where is she?" he snapped.

"She's alive, for now. Tell me about the army. Are they arranging an assault?"

"Tell me why you're holding her prisoner."

Singh nodded at his servant. "Gupta, like I showed you."

Gupta flicked a switch and electricity surged into Jim's fingers, making his arm muscles clench and cramp with pain. He locked his jaw and waited for the shock to end. It was only brief, but a strong message.

Singh laced his fingers. "Mr Westman. I remember you from the Valentine soiree. That is to say, I remember you throwing me into a garden wall."

"I like to make an impression."

"As do I. I promised you both a special lecture, didn't I?" He rose from the stool and went to the blackboard at the front of the classroom. Chalk in hand, he wrote across the board. "There are two things you need to learn about electricity. One is voltage, the other is amps. A man can receive a ten thousand volt shock and survive if the amperage is low. Amps, also known as current, make all the difference between life and death."

He paused and turned to face his captives.

"The shock Mr Penderry received was set to a current of two milliamps, enough to be felt. But if we increase the current, a man will feel intense pain. Higher still, he cannot move and his muscles contract enough to break bones." He shuddered and wrote numbers on the board. "And beyond that, at this current, the heart cannot function, leading to death."

He set down the chalk and came back to stand in front of them.

"Don't worry, I don't want to kill either of you. Of course, there is a third thing you should know about electricity. These figures are all theories. Electricity is unpredictable."

"And you're quite happy to risk our lives as though this were a game of dice?" asked Jim.

"Actually, you'll be the one gambling with Mr Westman's life. Let's try answering the question again, shall we? The military's plan?"

Jim didn't need to see Westman's face to gauge his reaction. His friend would tell him not to talk. He was a jolly good sort, who'd risk himself for anyone. But he couldn't allow Westman to be tortured. Unfortunately, he hesitated too long.

"Gupta," said Singh.

The assistant pressed the switch and Westman tensed as he took the shock.

"Increase the current," instructed Singh.

A wave of alarm passed through Jim's stomach. "Wait, wait! Stop this."

"Don't tell them anything," snapped Westman.

Each electric shock his friend opted to endure risked killing him. How far was Singh prepared to go? Gupta increased the power, and Westman growled through gritted teeth. Sparks crackled around the clamps and smoke rose from the rubber insulating the wires. The first round of torment stopped, and Westman slouched in his seat with a groan.

"That's enough!" said Jim. "I'll answer your question, but please tell me why you're doing this. I know you followed me in London to abduct Anju, but why take Miss Spencer? You don't need her."

Singh peered down at him. "My bride, Anju, was being a little resistant. Like you, she would do anything to avoid her friend being hurt. As soon as Anju and I are married, I intend to see Miss Spencer released. Now it's your turn."

"The military doesn't have a plan anymore," answered Jim.

"What do you mean?"

"This was it. Westman and I. We were supposed to apprehend you."

He sat on the stool, considering his words. "That's it? Just you two and the soldier in the marketplace? No grand army to take the palace and kill me and my father?"

"What army? Your people slaughtered almost everyone at the cantonment."

"That was my father's order." He stood and pulled the wire plugs from the power pack, then told Gupta, "Switch off the equipment. Keep them contained here until I send word that I'm married."

"But, highness. I cannot stay behind. Your father said-"

"You have no choice in the matter, Gupta. I can't risk them following me or alerting the military. I'll deal with them later. Now, excuse me, gentlemen. I've wasted too much time. As it is, I'm now forced to take a different route back to Purabad. And I don't want to be late for my wedding."

Singh strode to the door and left the room.

Westman twisted his wrists and peered at his hands. "Damnation. My fingers are black."

Jim turned his head to look. His friend was right. Thankfully it was only soot from the burnt rubber.

"And why did you go and tell him everything, Jim?"

"I'll explain later."

Gupta turned to the equipment and reconnected the cables.

"Oh, wonderful," muttered Westman.

"The prince has always been weak," said Gupta, turning on the control box. "But I follow orders from the maharaja."

Movement in the corner of the room caught Jim's eye. His satchel jiggled and Pikoo squeezed out of the opening. Jim's gaze widened.

What on earth?

The mongoose had stowed away in his bag.

Pikoo stood on his hind legs and sniffed the air, his whiskers twitching, then scampered across the floor towards Gupta's bare feet.

Gupta remained with his back to them, adjusting a series of dials. "As soon as the wedding is over, your Bunny will be no more. She knows too many secrets to be kept alive, just like the two of you."

"What are you going to do?" asked Jim, keeping Gupta talking while he wrenched against his bonds.

The cables were loosening, but not fast enough. Westman struggled against the binds with determination. Jim doubled his efforts.

This is hopeless.

Without sparing them a glance, Gupta moved his hand towards the switch. "I think you can guess the answer to that."

Jim squeezed his eyes shut, his heart sinking with resignation. There was no escape this time, no finding Bunny, and no leaving alive. His biggest regret was dragging his best friend into this mess.

"Sorry, Freddie."

A male shriek split the air, and Jim's eyes flew open in time to see a bushy tail disappear up Gupta's trouser leg. The royal servant yelled and spun, stamping his feet and shaking his leg. The distraction bought Jim enough time to twist one hand free of the knotted wire. He yanked the clamps from his fingers and wriggled under the cable. Pikoo darted down Gupta's leg and raced across the floor, chattering. Still bound to one armrest, Jim shot to his feet and swung the chair. Wood smashed into Gupta, knocking him to the floor at Westman's feet. He staggered to his hands and knees, snarling through sharp teeth. Yellow eyes locked onto Jim. Before Gupta could move, Westman kicked the werewolf in the face, sending him reeling backward.

Gupta thrashed amongst the broken wood before finding his footing, then lunged at Jim. He slammed into him with the force of an express train, propelling him into the chalkboard. Pain erupted in his back and the air left his lungs, then he dropped to the hard floor. With a roar, Gupta turned on Westman and seized him by the front of his shirt, lifting him clean off the ground, chair and all.

The wires attached to his fingers snapped from their clamps, freeing Westman from danger. But he faced another peril – a werewolf in mid-transformation, threatening to throw him across the room.

Winded, Jim struggled to refill his lungs. He got to his knees and clutched the table for support. Electricity hummed from the control box in front of him, and an idea struck. If only he could get his breath back. The werewolf launched Westman through the air and he crashed into a row of desks. At that moment, Jim's body decided to start working again, and sweet oxygen filled his lungs.

Without a moment to lose, he grabbed the wired clamps from the floor and snapped them to Gupta's toes. Gupta swung around in time to see Jim throw himself at the controls and switch on the current. The wolfman howled, his half-transformed face contorting as electricity surged through his twisted body, making his frizzy hair smoke. Westman rose and charged, using the remains of his chair to ram the werewolf into the equipment. Gupta plunged into the apparatus, sparks exploding around him. The smell of smouldering fur curled into the air, and amidst the debris Gupta lay motionless.

Westman tossed away the chair.

At that moment, the door burst open and Blinks and Sergeant Dobbins appeared.

"Thank God," panted Dobbins. "We'd almost given up searching for you until a witness pointed us this way. But-" Dobbins paused and looked at the wrecked classroom. "What happened here?"

Blinks leaned his hands on his knees, puffing. "Are you all right, sir?"

Westman patted down his hair. "Just a little singed."

He started to walk, but stopped and clutched his back. Blinks rushed over to help his master onto a seat.

"It was the prince and his servant, Gupta." Jim pointed to the unconscious creature, half transformed. "They ambushed us and brought us here. Singh wanted to know the military's plans. I'm sorry, but Westman's life was at stake, I had to tell them why we came."

"Damn," muttered Dobbins.

"But you can use this to your advantage. When Singh reaches the palace, he'll tell his father the British aren't a threat, and that we have no manpower. Their guard will be down."

"That's no good to us. Even with their guard lowered, we don't have enough men to launch an assault."

"Not yet. But there's another fort nearby, correct? You can send for reinforcements. And if you're worried the other regiments won't believe your story about a werewolf threat, just show them Fluffy here." He kicked Gupta with the toe of his boot.

Dobbins nodded. "You and your friends should report back to Captain Spencer. Tell him I've gone for help."

"Very well." Jim retrieved his satchel and turned to his friends. "You two, head back when you're ready. Blinks, I'll need your rifle."

"All right, sir." Blinks handed him the weapon.

Westman eyed him with suspicion. "Where are you going?"

"After Singh. You heard Gupta. Miss Spencer's life is in immediate danger."

"Oh, no you're not." Westman followed him into the corridor.

Sooty fingers grabbed Jim's shirtfront.

"When are you going to stop being a dunderhead?" asked Westman. "If you do what I think you intend to do, you'll die. Is that what you want?"

Jim pried at the hands restraining him. "Let me go, Freddie."

"What would I tell your sister?"

"Miss Spencer needs my help."

His friend's face hardened with frustration. "Let the army will deal with this one."

"It could be too late by then. Bunny-"

"You hardly know the girl. Think straight for once before you get yourself killed."

Westman's words brought unbidden heat to his face. It was true he had known Bunny for a few short weeks, but that was long enough to notice a connection between them. She was passionate and brave, yet she'd come to him when she felt alone and unsure, and they'd made each other smile and laugh. He recognised something in her. Something powerful enough to compel him to travel halfway across the world.

His eyes widened with anger. "I know what you're thinking. But she's not just a whim. This is different. She has a spirit like no one I've ever met. She's different."

He held Westman's iron gaze, and his friend saw how serious he was. Reluctantly, Westman loosened his grip and released him. The frustration in his eyes turned to worry.

"Blast it, Freddie. Don't look at me like that. I'm not dead yet."

"You're still a dunderhead."

A smile ghosted across Jim's lips. "Take care of Pikoo for me."