It’s in the can! It’ll show up on Patreon in a few days.
When we got close enough, I could smell the ghost chilis, and my nose and eyes started to water a little. Gloria made a couple of strangled sounds like she was stopping a sneeze, which she probably was. At least it meant the bartop around Bucko was clear; he himself was too drunk to care — or maybe too halfling. I’m not saying that the sagas are true, but there’s no denying that halflings can pretty much eat or drink anything.
“All right,” said Gloria, “how we’ll do this is…” and right then, I set off the smoke bomb. It did what I wanted: lots of confusion, lots of scrambling and fleeing — and a sudden spike of mental alarm from the werewolf. I heard it say, What the hells? in my head, and that was all I needed. The needle was out of my sleeve and in my hand in a trice (whatever that is); and another trice later one of my hands was grabbing the werewolf’s hair, and the other was driving the needle into its head, up through the back of the neck where the spine meets the skull.
Yeah, that’s an assassin’s blow. If you’re going to learn a trick, learn from the best. Werewolves are faster and stronger than we are; it ain’t never gonna be a fair fight. I’m not here to die just for the look of the thing.