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There was a reason Quill Kipps kept his own apartment.
Once the mourner’s veil had been lifted from Jessica’s old room - Lockwood’s memories from within sifted and sorted and stashed for safe-keeping - the space, once an altar frozen in time, actually held the potential for something new. Or someone new. Still, George was surprised to hear Lockwood offer it so freely to Kipps when opportunity arose. He was less surprised to hear Kipps turn him down, despite his frequent complaints about commuting to Portland Row.
He wasn’t surprised, because Quill Kipps had a secret. And George knew what it was.
It wasn’t exactly a difficult secret to surmise. George hadn’t even been trying. It wasn’t his fault he’d simply noticed the pattern - the days when Kipps was unavailable to take on a job, or begged out of an ongoing hunt, claiming sickness. What he didn’t understand was why Kipps felt the need to keep it a secret. But George could be discreet. He could follow Kipps’ lead.
Until it all blew up in his face.
“Shit,” Lockwood said, looking up at the train schedule as their own ride back into London switched from Delayed over to Cancelled. Today was only supposed to be a reconnaissance day. They were getting local information about their new haunting, scouting the grounds for potential sources before going back home. The actual job would be done over the weekend, once George had had time to compare the local records with what he could find at the Archives. They’d discussed staying the night, but with the location only an hour out by train, Lockwood preferred not to waste money on the accommodation. Now, it looked like he didn’t have a choice.
“Looks like we’re booking a room at the inn, afterall,” Lockwood sighed.
“No,” Kipps said. “We can’t - there must be another way back into town. A bus or a car rental - something.” He strode over to the man working the information desk, looking ready to sprint home if that was the only way. George had his doubts about other forms of transport - the town they were in was desperately small. They were lucky the train even stopped here.
“What’s with him?” Lucy wondered aloud, and George had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying anything.
“Probably doesn’t want to share a bed with one of us,” Lockwood speculated. “Honestly, the feeling’s mutual. He seems the type to hog the covers.”
“Put a lot of thought into sharing a bed with Kipps, have you?” Lucy asked, expression plainly curious.
“What? No. Of course not,” Lockwood huffed, and as he sputtered, George recognized Lucy’s “trying not to laugh” face. Her teasing was cut short as Kipps returned to them, face pale and panicked.
“Any luck?” Lockwood asked, happy for a change in topic.
Kipps shook his head, eyes shifting as though hoping to find the answer to a life-and-death question floating in the air in front of him.
“I can’t stay here tonight,” he muttered.
“Kipps, what is it?” Lucy reached out, resting a gentle hand on his arm like she was calming a skittish animal.
“I can’t-“ Kipps cut himself off with a frustrated grunt, tugging at his hair and pacing.
“Do you need something taken care of at your flat?” Lucy guessed. She probably thought he’d left the oven on or took in a stray cat. “Maybe we could call Holly, see if she can stop by-“
“No, that’s not it.”
“Ok…”
They all stood, silently waiting for Kipps to fill them in. Which he did not do. George decided he’d had enough. “Christ, Quill, just tell them.”
“Tell us what?” Lucy and Lockwood asked in unison.
“You know?” Kipps stared at George with wide eyes.
“Of course I know. I’m a little offended that you thought you had to keep it a secret.”
“I’m not keeping it a secret, it’s just no one else’s business.”
“I’m just saying, it would be easier to be honest. Are you embarrassed or something? It could happen to anyone.”
“What’s embarrassing?” Lockwood asked, and George was pleased to see Lucy smack him in the shoulder for the eagerness with which he asked the question.
Kipps glared at George as though it was his fault he was in these circumstances, which felt more than a little unfair. George was simply cutting to the chase - there was no way around it now, they all needed to be informed if they were going to get him through this.
Kipps shook his head, muttering angrily, as though the words were being dragged out of him. “Made it through my entire career as an agent without being ghost touched once, only to have everything thrown off the rails by one bloody bite.”
Lucy and Lockwood exchanged a look, still unsure of exactly what Kipps was confessing. “Bite?” Lucy asked. “You mean you…oh my God, Quill, are you a -“ her voice fell away, as though she felt it impolite to continue.
“The preferred term is ‘lycanthrope’,” George finished for her, and Kipps sighed as though the weight of George’s many reference books on cryptozoology held him down.
Quill Kipps was a werewolf.
And tonight was a full moon.
…
“I can’t believe you’re a bloody dog,” Lockwood said as he locked the chain into place around the post.
They’d decided to see the night through in an abandoned barn on their client’s property. They’d brought one kit bag with them, so they had chains, but they’d had to stop by a supply store for some locks, wolfsbane oil, and a taser, just in case.
It was taking everything in George not to pepper Kipps with a thousand questions. Werewolves were extraordinarily rare. So much so that many people were still convinced they were a hoax. Every agent had a rudimentary education of them, though. Rumors of relic hunters trading in werewolf furs also ran rampant in agent circles. As some of the only people likely to be out after curfew, they were the most likely to run into such creatures of the night.
“He’s not a dog, Lockwood. God, no wonder he didn’t want to tell us,” Lucy reprimanded, adjusting the chain around Kipps’ neck.
“I’m right here, you know. Still in human form,” Kipps said.
“Sorry,” Lucy mumbled, cheeks turning a bit pink. “How’s this?”
Kipps reached up to feel the loop of chain around his neck. “Bit tighter,” he instructed. “Don’t want to be able to slip out.”
“Well, we don’t want to choke you,” George worried, helping Lucy adjust the chain.
“You won’t,” Kipps dismissed. “How much time until sunset?”
George checked his watch. “About five minutes.”
Kipps nodded, back straight as a soldier. “Alright. Just lock the door behind you. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Lucy balked. “We’re not just going to leave you here.”
“I’m sorry, what exactly have we been preparing for, then?”
“What if you get loose?” George asked. “Some backwoods hunter out here would probably love to bag a werewolf for the black market.”
“I could hurt you. My first full moon, I nearly tore the door to pieces trying to get out. There’s a reason I had a steel cage installed.”
“And there’s a reason we picked this up,” Lockwood held the taser aloft, pressing the button so that it crackled menacingly with electricity. “We’ll stay here and make sure the restraints hold,” he decided.
“I don’t want you here.”
“Well, unfortunately for you, you’re chained up, so I’m not sure what you’ll be able to do about it,” said Lockwood.
Kipps growled in a way that had George double checking the time. But as he took in the three determined faces before him, his shoulders dropped with resignation. “Fine,” he said, and began unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing?” Lockwood asked.
“I'd rather leave here tomorrow with clothes on. They’ll be destroyed if I’m wearing them when I change. Turn away if it embarrasses you,” he replied with a shrug.
“Lockwood’s uncomfortable with nudity,” George commented as he watched Kipps undress.
“What? No, I’m not.”
“After the yoga incident you wouldn’t meet my eyes for two days.”
“I thought you were uncomfortable.”
“Why would I have been practicing yoga in the nude with my door unlocked if I was uncomfortable with someone seeing?”
“Boys,” Lucy admonished tiredly. “Here, Kipps, I’ll keep those for you,” she reached a hand out for his clothes, keeping her gaze determinedly above the waist. “How much time?” She asked George, but it was Kipps who answered.
“Not long,” he said, fingers flexing like there was some electricity sparkling in the air that only he could feel.
“Does it hurt?” George asked softly. He’d been eager to see a werewolf transformation first hand, but the reality of watching Quill go through it was leaving him with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.
Kipps grimaced. “Not for long,” he answered honestly. “I might-” he shifted uneasily on his feet. “I haven’t done this in front of someone before. I don’t know how I’ll react once I’m…”
“In dog form?” Lockwood finished for him.
“I might try to attack. Please get out and keep yourselves safe if you need to. I’d rather take my chances with the small town hunters than be responsible for hurting one of you.”
“You won’t,” Lucy dismissed.
“You don’t know that. Hell, I don’t know that.”
Kipps met each of their eyes in turn, silently impressing his point upon them. For the first time, his nervousness seemed edged with a sharp stab of fear.
“We’ll be safe,” Lockwood said. “I promise.”
Kipps’ posture eased slightly with his words. George wished he knew what else they could say to help allay his concern, but comforting words were never his strong suit. Before he could even try, the light from the barn window dimmed, casting them all in a soft blue.
“Sunset,” George said, turning back to Kipps. “Are you-?”
Kipps grunted under some unseen physical strain. “Get back,” he warned.
The three of them obediently took a step back, but George found himself wanting to reach for Kipps as he bent over in pain.
“Kipps?” Lucy asked, eyes filled with the same worry George felt.
Kipps' eyes flashed inhumanly bright. He let loose a very human howl of pain that morphed into an animalistic growl. His hands clenched on the ground as his muscles pulsed, rippling down his back and along his limbs like another being was taking hold of his body.
He shuddered and growled, so deep and loud the sound reverberated in George’s own chest. Everything was happening so fast. Bones creaked as they shifted, fur sprouted from his face down his neck and the rest of his body. Jesus, when did the tail get there?
Kipps jerked against the chains with a yowl and Lockwood jumped in front of George and Lucy, his arm held out like he was worried they’d try to get around him. He needn’t worry, it was taking everything in George not to go running for the door - it certainly seemed like the smarter move at the moment. But his academic interest and his concern for Quill kept him in place.
After what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have been longer than a minute, the transformation stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving them all winded and in awe of the being in front of them who no longer resembled their friend. Aside from the strangely familiar blue eyes staring out at them, he was indistinguishable from a wild animal. Large paws, sharp teeth and coarse, grayish brown fur covered a large muscular frame.
George would be tempted to call his long muzzle of a face cute if it weren’t currently fixed in a menacing snarl. A low growl emanated from his throat and he crouched as though ready to pounce. Something about the stance looked familiar on Kipps, the creature's sharp teeth serving as a replacement for the steady threat of a rapier by his side.
They waited for several seconds, hoping that the wolf would calm, but it seemed to be ready to have this stand-off all night.
“Kipps?” Lucy said, taking a tentative step forward. Lockwood grasped her arm to halt her progress.
“Luce.”
“It’s ok,” she said, and George wasn’t sure if she was talking to Lockwood or the animal. Neither of them seemed reassured.
She held out her hand, palm down in a non-threatening manner, and even George had to prevent himself from grabbing her and pulling her back. He’d learned long ago not to question Lucy’s methods, so he reminded himself that, even if she were bit, they had the wolfsbane oil to prevent transference.
“You know me,” she whispered to Kipps. His growling intensified as she stepped closer, but he made no move to attack. Eventually, her hand was close enough for him to scent, and his growling shifted lower in volume. Finally, she was close enough to touch. Lockwood kept one hand on her arm, ready to yank her back at a moment’s notice. His other held the taser, finger poised over the button.
Kipps finally quieted as he snuffled along her wrist. Lucy grinned and he licked tentatively at her fingers. Slowly, she reached back to pet along his neck. A soft whine escaped his throat as her fingers sank into his fur.
“Jesus Christ,” Lockwood muttered as he let out a breath. He dropped Lucy’s arm as George stepped forward, hand held aloft just like Lucy had done. Kipps granted George permission to approach even faster, and George reached up to scratch behind his ears.
“I am so going to give you shit for this when you’re human again,” George told the animal. He huffed a low bark and jumped up, knocking George off his feet.
“George!” Lockwood cried with worry, but before he could even brandish the taser, the wolf was licking at George’s face like an overactive housepet. George cried out in disgust, his face covered in dog saliva, as Lucy’s lilting laughter fell over them. She dropped to her knees as she continued scratching along the ruff of his neck.
“You guys are crazy,” Lockwood shook his head as he stepped forward to join them. But as soon as he got close, Kipps' lip curled with another low growl.
“Seriously?” Lockwood said. “It’s me, Kipps.”
“Oh, I think he knows,” Lucy said, laughter coloring her voice.
“Try the hand thing,” George directed.
“Fine,” Lockwood sighed, holding a hand out for the snarling Kipps. “May I approach, your highness?’ Kipps sniffed curiously, gave him a cursory lick, and directed his attention back to George. Lockwood joined them on the ground as he pet along the wolf’s right flank.
“Not very soft, is he?” Lockwood noted.
“He’s sweet, though,” Lucy smiled as Kipps turned to lick at her face.
“He’s definitely turning the werewolf reputation on its head,” George agreed, and the three of them settled in to spend a long night keeping their friend company.
…
The morning after Kipps’ first transformation, he’d awoken alone in his apartment, naked on a cold floor covered in wood chips, furniture in pieces and a nearly destroyed door in front of him.
That morning, in the barn, yellow sunlight filtered in through the old wood slats, scratchy hay softened his resting place, and warm bodies surrounded him. His head rested on a jean-clad thigh - Lucy. The person laying next to him curled an arm around his shoulder - George. And a hand rested carded in his hair as though it were still petting him - Lockwood. He was definitely giving him shit for that later.
He stretched tiredly, luxuriating in feeling the muscles of his very human body back where they belonged. As he looked around at his friends’ sleeping faces, he tried to remember why he’d been so determined to keep this secret from them in the first place. It seemed so unnecessary now. He let his eyes fall shut again, trusting that they would wake him when it was time to finally head home.
Quill Kipps was a werewolf, but he was no longer alone.