The Curse of the Wolf Girl

by Martin Millar

  Markus stayed in Edinburgh during the week, returning to the castle only on weekends. He was still spending his nights there with Beatrice, the assistant curator of the castle relics. While not an exciting relationship, it was comfortable. Comfortable enough for Markus to now tell her about his fondness for cross-dressing, which had gone smoothly enough. Markus was relieved, though he hadn’t really expected it to go that badly. Markus had had many lovers, and it was rare that any, human or werewolf, had objected to his liking for female clothes. It still wasn’t something he’d have liked to be known throughout the clan—the barons certainly wouldn’t have approved—but he was comfortable with Beatrice knowing. She was sympathetic, and though she was too small for most of her clothes to fit Markus, she did let him try on a few blouses that he liked in the privacy of her rooms at the castle.

  Chapter 110

  Merchant MacDoig was fatigued after his day’s work. “I’m not as young as I was, Son.” He sank into his favorite leather armchair in the rooms above his shop. “It takes a powerful amount of concentration to send papers through the dimensions.”

  His son looked at him with some concern as he placed a teapot on the huge mantel above the old-fashioned fireplace that warmed the merchant’s feet. It was illegal to burn coal in London these days, but the merchant liked his fireplace. The furnishings in the shop were as antiquated as his dress coat and embroidered waistcoat. The merchant had lived an unnaturally long life and had no wish to change. The teacup that the Young MacDoig handed to his father was an exquisite piece of antique Staffordshire china, part of a set from the display cabinet that was itself a valuable piece of furniture. Merchant MacDoig had never consciously surrounded himself with luxuries, but it pleased him that the ancient furnishings he’d taken good care of were now priceless artifacts. It showed it wasn’t always a good idea to modernize.

  “So what does the princess want with copies of pages from a book of moon spells?”

  “Something bad, no doubt, probably concerning Thrix MacRinnalch. She still hates her.”

  The merchant sipped his tea, holding the small cup quite gracefully in his large hand. He looked thoughtful. “I remember when the old clippers sailed into London carrying tea in chests all the way from China. I saw the Cutty Sark coming in on her maiden voyage. Must have been 1872 or thereabouts.” The Cutty Sark was still preserved, a floating museum piece in Greenwich. The merchant had a notion to visit it sometime. He’d always liked the sight of a ship in full sail, bringing goods from distant lands. Now they arrived by air. It wasn’t the same. “I don’t know what the princess hopes to achieve, but if it concerns the moon, it’s bound to be bad for werewolves.”

  The merchant had done a lot of business with the MacRinnalchs. They were good customers. Verasa MacRinnalch, for instance, was a fine woman; no one could deny it. But business was business, and if Princess Kabachetka had been prepared to offer him such a substantial sum of money to obtain photocopies from a book in Castle MacRinnalch and transport it to her dimension, he wasn’t going turn it down.

  “It’s lucky for us that Kertal still has gambling debts.” Kertal, a cousin of the Thane, still lived in the castle. He was always in need of money. “I doubt he’s given that much consideration to what the princess might do with the information.”

  The merchant drank his tea, relaxing into his armchair, and wondered if it was too early for a dram. He liked his drop of whisky in the evenings but never let it interfere with work.

  “We’ve an order for silver bullets,” said Young MacDoig.

  The merchant nodded. “Aye, I saw that. The guild’s made a quicker recovery than I thought they would. Best check the warehouse, son, you never know how many silver bullets we’ll be selling in the next few weeks. If Princess Kabachetka’s got some plot afoot against the MacRinnalchs, the Avenaris Guild will probably try and get in on it somehow.”

  Chapter 111

  Vex managed to persuade a not-too-reluctant household that the best way to celebrate Daniel’s recovery from his illness would be a shopping expedition. Moonglow liked the idea. Though she was still worried about money, Daniel’s sickness had been stressful, and she’d been working hard at college recently. Daniel was keen to leave the house after several days on the couch. They were all surprised when Kalix agreed to accompany them.

  “She needs more comics for her assignment,” explained Vex. “Curse of the Wolf Girl.”

  “How many more do you need? Six?”

  “Seven.”

  “I thought you had six issues already?”

  “I chewed up number four because it was so annoying.” Kalix scowled. “I’m going to denounce them to the whole class. I’m going to let them know you can’t write rubbish like that about werewolves.”

  They took the Northern line from Kennington to Tottenham Court Road. Unlike some other underground routes, the Northern line hadn’t been renovated recently, and the carriages were still old, rickety, and not very clean.

  “So,” announced Vex in her loudest voice, “you never really talked about this curse thing.”

  “What curse thing?”

  “You know. You and Daniel not being able to get together.”

  “This probably isn’t the time—”

  “It’s quite difficult really,” said Vex, “what with Daniel practically risking his life for passion. What are you going to do about it? Why’s everyone gone quiet?”

  Daniel and Moonglow were staring at their feet, and even Kalix looked uncomfortable.

  “What’s the matter? It’s no use just ignoring it. We should be thinking of a plan to get the curse lifted. I’m good with plans. Daniel, if you’re ever going to succeed with Moonglow, we have to think of a plan.”

  Moonglow went bright red and studied her shoes with even more interest.

  “Would you just be quiet?” urged Daniel.

  As soon as the train rolled into Tottenham Court Road, Daniel and Moonglow hurried to the doors, eager to escape from Vex’s terrible lack of tact.

  She pursued them relentlessly along the platform. “How about if Daniel pretends to be dead for a while? That might get the curse lifted. No good? Okay, what about if Moonglow pretends to go mad?”

  Outside the station, they passed a busker who was performing a spirited medley of early Elvis Costello hits. Daniel, always sympathetic to musicians, dropped some coins into his hat.

  “I know,” cried Vex. “How about if—oww! Kalix just punched me in the arm. Why did you do that?”

  “Because you’re being tactless and stupid.”

  “How?”

  “Moonglow and Daniel don’t want to discuss the curse. You’re embarrassing them.”

  Vex was puzzled. “I’m sure you’re wrong. Daniel, is Kalix right? Am I embarrassing you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But don’t you want to—”

  “Here’s the comic shop,” interrupted a relieved Moonglow.

  “Thank God,” sighed Daniel, and hurried inside.

  “This way!” shouted Vex, leading them downstairs. “Hey look, it’s the friendly assistant who likes manga.”

  Agrivex approached a large man in a baggy T-shirt at the counter and then, to general surprise, burst into the theme song for Tokyo Top Pop Boom-Boom Girl. Customers looked round in amusement while the assistant greeted Vex cheerfully.

  “She really has a talent for making friends,” observed Daniel.

  As Vex introduced Kalix to her friend at the counter—“She’s a really big Curse of the Wolf Girl fan”—Daniel adroitly drew Moonglow aside, into a section of the shop that sold toys.

  “Why are we hiding behind a giant model robot?” asked Moonglow.

  “We’re not hiding. I just wanted a quiet place to talk.”

  “What about?”

  Daniel hesitated then plunged in. “Malveria’s curse. What if it wasn’t there? Would we being going out?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Daniel sensed Moonglow’s reluctance but persiste
d anyway. “I think we would be. I mean, why not?”

  “I’ve been living with this curse for months. I don’t know what would have happened without it. Maybe we should just not talk about it.”

  Daniel felt his spirit drain. “Fine. We’ll not talk about it. I almost die of some deadly disease after kissing you, but you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You didn’t have a deadly disease. It was a cold or one of those sudden viruses.”

  “A severe one. Probably made worse by Malveria’s sorcery. If I keel over and die because I was overcome with passion, the least you can do is talk about it.”

  “Will you stop saying you were overcome with passion? You just drank too much.”

  “It’s the same thing. So how about it? Without the curse, would we be going out?” Daniel hadn’t intended to pursue the subject so relentlessly, but Moonglow’s failure to address it was irritating him.

  “I keep telling you, I don’t know!” protested Moonglow. “Have you noticed how annoying you’ve been recently? Always angry about something?”

  “That’s only because you were being unreasonable. Which I now forgive you for. Obviously, you were concerned about my health.”

  “Well, it was annoying anyway. It’s been stressful enough in the house without you being angry and playing loud music all the time. If I hear We Slaughtered Them and Laughed one more time, I’m going to grind their CD under a spiky heel.”

  Daniel was wounded. “I thought you liked them.”

  “No one likes them apart from you. A world without the grim sound of We Slaughtered Them and Laughed would be an improvement.”

  “You’re making it sound like I’m obsessed.”

  “You are.”

  Daniel pondered this. “So what you’re really saying is if I didn’t spend so much time listening to We Slaughtered Them and Laughed, then you’d go out with me?”

  “That’s not what I said at all! What’s the point of discussing it anyway? Malveria’s curse won’t go away. We’re stuck with it.”

  “Maybe we could get the curse lifted? Malveria’s not so intractable really.”

  Moonglow went silent again, and whether she was thinking that it would be a good idea to get the curse lifted or not, Daniel couldn’t tell.

  At that moment, Vex appeared. “Are you hiding behind the giant robot? Can I hide too? Kalix got three more comics. Now she’s got eight.”

  Kalix was deep in conversation with the large assistant, who was pointing out something in one of her new comics. Kalix looked interested and actually laughed at something he said.

  The atmosphere was strained between Moonglow and Daniel as they left the shop. Fortunately Vex was preoccupied with a Tokyo Top Pop Boom-Boom Girl action figure she’d bought and ceased tormenting them about their relationship.

  “You were a long time talking to the assistant, Kalix.”

  “He liked my hair.”

  Daniel looked concerned. “Your hair? What’s he talking about your hair for? Did he try to pick you up? Was it creepy?”

  Kalix shook her head. “He wasn’t creepy. He just said my hair was so long it reminded him of some woman he knew. She’s Scottish too. He was okay.”

  “He’s called Albermarle,” said Vex. “He’s really interesting. He knows loads about comics and games and manga.”

  Moonglow turned towards Daniel. “Is manga those comics you have with the Japanese schoolgirls in really short skirts?”

  “I told you before, they were secret agents. The short skirts were just a disguise.”

  “And the tiny little halter tops?”

  “Also a disguise.”

  “Wouldn’t a really short skirt and a tiny little top be a really bad disguise? Everyone would look at you.”

  “You just don’t understand comics,” said Daniel.

  “Why not just admit you were leering at pictures of girls in short skirts?”

  “Who’s been leering?” said Vex, brightly.

  “Daniel.”

  “Ignore everything Moonglow says. She knows nothing about comics.”

  Chapter 112

  The Fire Queen rode out in her silver carriage, a light and wondrously elegant vehicle she used for social engagements. “I do much prefer this to the official state carriage. One never feels entirely comfortable in that huge golden edifice.”

  “The population loves to see you in your golden carriage, Your Highness.”

  “Very true, Gruselvere. And I do appreciate the cheering.”

  The silver carriage made its way through the outskirts of the fashionable area that surrounded the palace, part of a small procession that included palace dignitaries and Malveria’s retinue of guards and servants. Distikka was riding in the carriage in front.

  “I thought the Vulcanalia went well.”

  Gruselvere nodded. “I have never heard such a roar as when you led them through the Great Volcano. The ceremony was magnificent.”

  Malveria smiled. It had indeed been magnificent. The new alterations to her state robes, as recently tailored by Thrix MacRinnalch, had been widely admired. Admittedly, several members of her council had chafed at the alterations, pointing out that they were the most traditional of Hiyasta garments and had remained unchanged for hundreds of years. But as Malveria pointed out, she was far more slender than previous occupants of the throne, and there was no point having state robes that hid her figure.

  The two other occupants of the carriage, young handmaidens, suddenly giggled and hid their faces behind their fans.

  “Will you stop this interminable giggling?” the queen demanded with mock severity. She turned to Gruselvere. “They think I’m unaware of their current obsession with the handsome young valet currently employed by Duke DeMortalis. I am well aware of it, ladies. Nothing in the palace escapes my attention.”

  The handmaidens giggled again. Beau DeMortalis’s new valet had been creating quite a stir among the servants, almost as much as the duke himself. As one of the nation’s richest and most eligible bachelors, the duke stirred hearts wherever he went. The Fire Queen had never regretted sparing his life, valuing both his wit and his dress sense.

  Gruselvere shushed the handmaidens. “I packed another full outfit in an extra carriage.”

  The queen nodded. The upcoming soiree at the townhouse of the Countess Rechen-Gaval was a relatively informal affair. Three outfits should be sufficient. Malveria, however, never liked to take risks and traveled with several spare outfits. Though her clothes were designed by Thrix and could be relied on to outshine her rivals, it was wise to have something in reserve. The finest dress could be ruined by a careless hand at the punch bowl.

  “One really cannot trust the young countess’s servants. Not that I trust the countess either. I regret the death of her mother.”

  “You despised her mother.”

  “True,” admitted Malveria, “but at least you knew where you stood with her. Thanks to her unfortunate passing, I am now obliged to be civil to her daughter, at least till she proves herself unworthy. There is bad blood in the family. Fortunately the appalling Agrivex is not here to shame us.”

  Gruselvere nodded. Though the wardrobe mistress could not really picture what Vex’s life on Earth was like, she understood that the Fire Queen was moderately pleased with her niece’s progress.

  Malveria sighed. “But the tedium of greeting the new countess—have you noticed how sturdy her ankles are?—is as nothing compared to the misery of enduring Kabachetka’s company. I so regret having to invite these barbaric neighbors to our festival.”

  “There’s no need to worry,” said Gruselvere. “These days she’s hardly even a rival.”

  “True. I have laid her to waste on the battleground of style. Even so, I do hate to meet the princess. One is grateful that her appalling mother is indisposed.”

  “What’s the matter with her?”

  Malveria shrugged. “Who knows? Some minor complaint no doubt. The empress has always been a dreadful hypochondria
c.” The queen frowned very deeply. “And there is always the matter of the card table.” A few flames flickered around her fingertips. She doused them quickly, knowing it was unbecoming to exhibit such emotion in front of young handmaidens, but she couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. “It’s intolerable that I’m doomed to defeat because of the duchess’s appalling play. Might not the queen be expected to have a competent partner at the card table? If Gargamond makes another foolish bid, I will certainly say something very harsh to her.”

  “The duchess is an important ally,” ventured the queen’s dresser, who was not unaware of palace politics.

  “I know. But does this give her the right to humiliate me in front of the assembled Hiyasta aristocracy? I think not.” Malveria snapped her fingers. “Handmaidens. Stop giggling and attend to my makeup. The terrible prospect of partnering Gargamond has caused me to glow and may have affected my eyeliner. Initiate repairs, and be quick about it. I’m also experiencing doubts about my lip coloring. Really, this is all very stressful.”

  Chapter 113

  The Douglas-MacPhees were angry about Decembrius failing to meet them as arranged, particularly as he owed them money.

  “Maybe we should pay him a visit,” suggested Rhona.

  “Maybe we should,” agreed Duncan, and led his companions towards their dusty, old black van.

  * * *

  If the Douglas-MacPhees weren’t pleased with Decembrius, Kalix MacRinnalch was feeling a little more kindly towards him. He’d stood up to her mother. He hadn’t seemed intimidated by Thrix either. Kalix had long felt the need of an ally against her family. She still didn’t much like it that he was obviously attracted to her. She didn’t feel much attraction towards him. Now that Gawain was dead, Kalix didn’t feel like she’d ever be attracted to anyone again.

  The young werewolf traveled north, sitting upstairs on a double-decker bus, doing her best to ignore a group of noisy schoolchildren who’d been screaming at each other from the moment they swarmed on board. She tried calling Decembrius, but he didn’t answer, which irritated her. He hadn’t answered his phone all day. She wondered if she might have gotten the arrangement wrong, though she was sure she hadn’t.