No Such Thing As Werewolves by Chris Fox

this insolence.”  
    He lunged for Blair, hissing like a snake. There was nothing left of the man he’d known, only a shell of rage and madness. Blair stumbled backward, shielding himself with his arms. Then Jordan glided forward, jerking the butt of his pistol down on the back of Steve’s skull. He collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut, falling limply at Blair’s feet.
    “Steve,” Bridget shrieked, her headlamp bobbing as she hurried down the ramp. She knelt next to Steve, raising two fingers to his throat. She turned a glare at Jordan. “He’ll live, but I’m betting he’s got a concussion. We should carry him up. He’ll need medical attention.”
    “He’s dying of radiation poisoning. A concussion is the least of his worries. Yuri, restrain the man in case he’s still agitated when he wakes,” Jordan ordered, dismissing Bridget with a wave as he holstered his pistol. Sheila gave a squawk of protest as she finally entered the room, but Jordan silenced her with a look. “I’m not in the habit of explaining myself, but as I still need your cooperation, I will make a final exception. We’ve entered a combat situation. Doctor Galk was a threat to Professor Smith. Professor Smith is our best chance of finding this secret chamber, so I eliminated the threat. I will do the same to any other threat without hesitation. Now, let’s get in and out as quickly as possible. Unless you all want to end up just like the poor doctor.”
    Yuri knelt next to Steve, rolling him onto his stomach. The Russian gave a snort of disgust, removing a white zip tie from his pocket and binding Steve’s wrists together. He repeated the process with the ankles leaving Steve trussed and bleeding on the marble. Part of Blair was horrified, but he mostly felt relieved. Whatever Steve had become terrified him.  
    Blair moved to the floodlights that had been carted in, flipping the heavy red lever to crank the generator from medium to high. It read Aziz in bright green letters, shiny enough that the thing could have been made yesterday. Light flooded the chamber as the generator roared to life. The stench of gasoline and carbon monoxide belched from the motor, but the chamber was large enough that airflow wasn’t a problem.
    The light didn’t quite banish the shadows, but it did reveal the reason they’d come. A nine-foot statue stood at the far side of the room near the south wall, its right hand extended in a gesture that might have been friendly had it not been for the statue’s bestial countenance. The nobility, the exquisite detail with which the obviously feminine features had been crafted, once again struck Blair. It made the Egyptians’ finest work look like the macaroni pictures hung on your fridge. The statue also confirmed his earlier observation. Except for the gender, this was Wepwawet. An indisputable connection to ancient Egypt, on a continent thousands of miles away.
    Blair strode through the lingering darkness, standing beneath the magnificent statue. He glanced behind himself as booted steps echoed dully. Jordan stepped up next to him, with Bridget and Sheila just a few paces behind. Yuri scanned the darkness, rifle in a death grip.
    “So how do we activate it?” Jordan asked. He stood coiled, like some snake ready to strike. Blair was strangely comforted by his presence, though he doubted anything he did here would require armed intervention from the soldiers.
    “I don’t know,” Blair said. He placed his palm against the statue’s. “There might be a lever or a way t—“
    The statue’s hand tightened around his, locking it in an implacable grip. The hand didn’t grind or move like stone. The way it twisted had been just like a living person’s.  
    “Smith?” Jordan asked, raising an eyebrow as he inspected the statue.
    “The grip isn’t painful, but my hand is stuck. Hold on a sec; the stone is getting warm,” he explained. An odd blend of curiosity and unease settled over him.