Dreadful Company (Dr. Greta Helsing, #2)

by Vivian Shaw

Her fingers had just brushed the worn leather when something warm and solid covered in hair nudged itself firmly under her hand: something very like a head. Greta’s scream hit, and sustained, high C.

Now, with the faint light from the corridor falling into her cell, she was at least aware that the space around her was not closing in, that nothing was about to creep up on her in the blackness and tear off her head. At least, not without her getting a look at it first.