Lonely Werewolf Girl

by Martin Millar

  “Tea?” said Moonglow.

  Malveria managed to dry her eyes sufficiently to take the cup though she remained lying on Daniel’s lap, which wasn’t the easiest position in which to drink. For a while there was only the sound of Malveria sipping her tea in between sobs. It was quite a pathetic scene. Eventually Malveria looked up.

  “I must look terrible,” she said, and indeed her face was heavily smeared with make-up. Her eyeliner had not been able withstand the burning tears of a hysterical Fire Queen.

  “Bring me servants and a mirror.”

  “I’m afraid we don’t have any servants,” Moonglow told her.

  “How do you live in this hell?” cried the Queen, and prepared to start crying again. Moonglow quickly volunteered to take her to the bathroom and help her wash her face.

  “Thank you,” said Malveria, in a trembling voice. “Though no amount of face washing will remove the utter disgrace I have just suffered.”

  “Is this another clothes-related disaster?” enquired Moonglow, kindly.

  “A catastrophe. Do you have mascara?”

  “Plenty of mascara,” said Moonglow, reassuringly, and helped Malveria to her feet. She led her from the room like a rescue worker helping a victim away from a serious disaster, steering her gently but firmly towards the bathroom. Kalix and Daniel watched them go.

  “She’s a strange woman,” said Daniel.

  Kalix shrugged.

  “Can we stop playing Kate Bush now?” she said. “I want to hear the Runaways.”

  “You really love the Runaways.”

  “They’re the best band ever,” said Kalix.

  Daniel changed the music and turned down the gas fire, which was overheating the room.

  “Have you met the Fire Queen often?” asked Daniel.

  “A few times. When I was younger.”

  “Does she really have any power?” said Daniel, who was curious.

  “She brought me back from almost dead,” Kalix pointed out.

  “I suppose so. But every time we meet her she’s crying about some ridiculous thing. The same ridiculous thing in fact. If she’s so powerful why does she get so upset about clothes?”

  Kalix shrugged.

  “I don’t know. But she is powerful. Once when I went to see Thrix, Malveria was there and she was celebrating some anniversary when she’d defeated the neighbouring Kingdom’s army. She bought shoes and a coat.”

  Daniel mused on this. He supposed she must be powerful, if she was defeating neighbouring kingdoms. It all seemed strange to him.

  After a very long time in the bathroom, Moonglow and Malveria reappeared. The Fire Queen had washed her face and re-applied her make-up. Her spirits were a little revived due to Moonglow’s fine new mascara. With its extra powers of thickening and lengthening eyelashes it was, Malveria said, a much finer product than the one she had been using. Even so she was far from happy, and was again muttering about Thrix’s treachery.

  “But maybe Empress Asaratanti’s daughter just happens to have similar tastes?” Moonglow was saying.

  Malveria sat down heavily. The heels of her shoes were so pencil thin it was difficult to stand on them for long.

  “Impossible. Princess Kabachetka has no taste. Someone is dressing her and it must be Thrix. The Werewolf Enchantress is selling me clothes and then selling them to the cursed Princess as well. It is foul behaviour beyond all standards of decency and I am now going to destroy the Enchantress.”

  Daniel glanced at Kalix but if the young werewolf was upset at the prospect of her older sister being destroyed, she didn’t show it.

  “What’s going on?” asked Daniel.

  “What is going on?” said Malveria, her voice rising. “I will tell you what is going on, young Daniel. I have been subject to the most abject treachery. Kingdoms have fallen through less perfidious acts of treason than the shameful one that I have suffered. Have you washed your hair recently? I thought not. It is in poor condition. Really, you should let Moonglow guide you in these matters. She is a knowledgeable woman on all aspects of hair care.”

  Daniel hadn’t quite followed this explanation. He looked to Moonglow for guidance.

  “Every time the Queen turns up at some event in a new outfit she finds that Princess Kabachetka has beaten her to it,” explained Moonglow, who had heard the whole story at length, upstairs in the bathroom.

  “Who’s Princess Kabachetka?”

  “A trollop from the Kingdom of the Hainusta, who are inferior elementals in every way,” explained the Fire Queen. “She is daughter of the Empress Asaratanti, not that that counts for anything. Asaratanti has many children and one dreads to think who the fathers may be. But this so-called Princess has trumped my outfit on so many occasions recently that it cannot be co-incidence. Look at this blue dress. Have you ever seen anything so fine?”

  Daniel was not a connoisseur of women’s clothing but even so he had to admit that the dress, long, silky and clinging, was very fine, and rather unusual.

  “Thrix swore she had designed it exclusively for me. Yet the whorish Princess Kabachetka was wearing one exactly the same when I turned up to the cocktail party thrown by the Sorceress Livia to celebrate the death of her third-born son. I did not know what to do with myself. I am sure everyone was talking about me behind my back. I simply had to flee.”

  The Fire Queen sighed.

  “Soon I will be the laughing stock of all kingdoms.” Her face set in a malevolent expression. “But Queen Malveria will not accept treachery from werewolf enchantresses. I will destroy her.”

  Moonglow was troubled. While Thrix had not exactly been friendly towards her, she was Kalix’s sister, and she had provided the original pendant which had kept her safe.

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, there might be another explanation. I don’t get the impression that Thrix would commit treachery against you.”

  “What other explanation could there be?”

  “Maybe a spy.”

  “A spy?”

  Moonglow nodded.

  “It’s quite common in the fashion world. I read about it in Elle.”

  Malveria looked interested.

  “The edition with Ellie MacPherson on the cover?”

  “I think it was Kate Moss. The article said that some fashion houses were taking on extra security because other designers were spying on them. Maybe this Princess has sent a spy into Thrix Fashions?”

  The Fire Queen considered this, concentrating deeply for a while.

  “This is possible. Such filthy and deplorable behaviour would be entirely in keeping with Princess Kabachetka’s character. I must contact Thrix immediately. I will summon a spirit to take my words to her. Although a messenger from the Hiyasta will not be welcome at this time, when there is a funeral at Castle MacRinnalch.”

  Malveria rolled the word MacRinnalch round her tongue in her exotic way, making it sound quite magical.

  “You could just email her,” suggested Moonglow.

  “I do not understand this process.”

  “I’ll show you if you like,” said Moonglow.

  As a fire elemental, Malveria was never comfortable with human technology, but such was the crisis she agreed to Moonglow’s suggestion, and followed her upstairs to her room. She looked around Moonglow’s small bedroom with interest. Dark posters, and a great deal of beads, candles, feathers, concert tickets, and other ephemera hung on the walls or covered the table. The small dark space reminded Malveria of a cave.

  “You do not like the light?”

  Moonglow shrugged.

  “It feels comfy.”

  The Fire Queen could understand this. In her younger days, as a fugitive, she had often slept in caves for safety.

  “I’m sorry Kalix didn’t say thank you,” said Moonglow, suddenly.

  “Pardon?”

  “She didn’t say thank you for saving her life. Or for the new pendant. Which is quite rude, I know, but she’s not really herself yet.”

 
; The Fire Queen waved this away.

  “I did not suppose she would thank me. I know what Kalix is like. She has always been troubled. Often when I am visiting Thrix her mother phones her and there is some bother about Kalix. Thrix does not care but the mother will not realise this. Do you have a mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she an enemy?”

  “Definitely not,” replied Moonglow. “We get on really well.”

  “Really?” said Malveria. “I was at war with my mother for almost twenty years. You would not believe the stratagems and alliances it took to defeat her.”

  She looked slightly wistful.

  “Of course, my dimension was a more exciting place in those days. At one point there were six armies competing for control. Volcanoes threw flame all over the land. My younger brother, what a warrior he was. Before I overcame him he had killed almost all of my bodyguard, and they were all great fighters. Since I wiped out my enemies, things have been quiet. Apart from…” Malveria’s lip trembled. “Apart from… Princess Kabachetka… she keeps stealing…”

  The Fire Queen was unable to go on.

  “Don’t worry,” said Moonglow, and tried her best to be reassuring. “We’ll send an email to Thrix now.”

  “You are very kind,” said the Fire Queen, and bravely wiped away her tears. She noticed a postcard that was stuck onto Moonglow’s large mirror. It showed a fairy resting on a flower.

  “She looks familiar. Do you know the fairies?”

  “Are there really fairies?”

  Malveria looked at her with surprise. Humans, they were so strange.

  “Of course there are fairies. Why else would there be pictures of them?”

  Malveria studied the picture.

  “It looks like one of the MacKenzie Wallace MacLouds. We Hiyastas know them well. It was partly because of a regrettable incident at the wedding of Florazel MacLoud that the Hiyastas and the MacRinnalchs get on so badly today.

  “Really?” Moonglow was fascinated. “What happened?”

  “The Thane at the time, Murdo MacRinnalch - who would be Kalix’s great-grandfather, I think - became shockingly drunk and insulted the great Queen Malgravane, my grandmother - may she happily walk the pathways of eternal flame.”

  “What did he say?”

  “It was rather what he did not say. He left her out while toasting the beauty of those at the bride’s table. My grandmother was a famous beauty and it was a terrible insult for Murdo MacRinnalch to ignore her. Had it not been a fairy wedding, where good behaviour is essential unless you want your cattle to start dying, Malgravane would have taken immediate revenge. But she got her revenge later.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She waited till the wedding was over then turned all the whisky at Castle MacRinnalch into water.” The Fire Queen laughed. “The poor werewolves! How they suffered. Because the werewolves are very particular about their whisky, and do not like having to drink any other type than their own. And of course, this was nine hundred years ago, a time when the situation around the castle was confused, with warfare between the human kings of Scotland and England. One could not simply visit the nearest shop to replenish supplies. Really, it was a very funny revenge by Malgravane.”

  Malveria frowned. “But it did lead to some deaths later, when Hiyastas and werewolves encountered each other and started to fight. We are both hot tempered peoples, and never friends.”

  “Apart from you and Thrix?”

  “Indeed. But you can see why a messenger from me would not be welcome at the castle.”

  Moonglow opened up her laptop and got on with the job of composing Malveria’s email.

  59

  A repeated knocking and ringing on the doorbell eventually brought Beauty out of her slumber. It was close to midday and the werewolf was annoyed to have been woken so early. It couldn’t be anything good. No friend would disturb them before midday.

  Despite the earliness of the hour, and the astonishing amount of wine she had consumed last night, Beauty was feeling exceptionally well. Last night she had transformed into a werewolf and this always gave her a lift. No matter what deprivations Beauty and Delicious carried out on their own bodies they were always restored to health by the monthly werewolf event. It was really convenient.

  She wrapped her dressing gown around her and headed for the door. The ringing continued. Someone was keen to get their attention.

  That someone was a delivery man, and part of the instructions on his delivery sheet were continue ringing bell until you get an answer. This had been specially instructed by the customer. Eventually the door was yanked open by a young woman with a lot of blue hair and a dressing gown that had seen better days.

  “What is it?”

  “Special delivery.”

  Beauty studied the delivery sheet suspiciously. Her experience of taking things in at the door was that it was always some bill or other she’d forgotten to pay. This however, was a large box. Maybe her sister Delicious had ordered something and forgotten to tell her. She signed the sheet, and took the box from the courier, hoisting it easily with one hand though the courier had struggled to carry it.

  Delicious arrived in the living room a few minutes later.

  “What’s for breakfast?” she asked.

  “Whisky,” replied her sister.

  “Really? Why?”

  “The Mistress of the Werewolves just sent us an extra large crate.”

  Delicious whooped with glee and dived towards the crate of MacRinnalch whisky. Seventy-two bottles. The MacRinnalch, a very select malt, was drunk mainly on the clan estates and none was ever made available to the public. It was one of the few things from home the twins truly missed.

  “Why would Verasa be sending us presents?” wondered Beauty.

  “Who cares?” replied Delicious, who was already drinking. “It’s a good present.”

  “Certainly is,” agreed Beauty. “An excellent present. I missed this.”

  The sisters got down to drinking. Had Verasa been there to witness the scene, she would have been gratified to see how much the twins appreciated her gift.

  60

  The Enchantress was utterly astonished to receive an email from the Fire Queen. Malveria? At a computer? It defied belief. What crisis could possibly have driven her to such measures?

  From Malveria, Fire Queen of the Hiyasta, Mistress of the Volcanoes, Protector of the Flame, Lady of the Inferno, Ruler of the Burning Element, Persecutor of Mankind, Conqueror of the Ice Dwarves, Destroyer of the Iron Giants…

  Thrix skipped ahead. Malveria’s full list of names and titles could be quite daunting.

  Dearest Thrix, most celebrated of werewolves, most revered and trusted friend. You have once more led me into the paths of damnation by sending me into the halls of mockery and derision where Princess Kabachetka rules supreme. I have again suffered the unquenchable agonies of finding myself not the leader of fashion, but a mere follower of the Princess…

  The email went on like this for a while, but the gist of it was, as Thrix soon realised, that Malveria had again arrived at some important social event to find Princess Kabachetka wearing the same outfit. Thrix frowned, very deeply. This was serious. Perhaps not quite as disastrous as the Fire Queen made out, but serious nonetheless. Thrix provided original designs for Malveria and it was inexplicable that they were being copied.

  My young human friend suggests that you may have a spy in your fashion house, continued Malveria. I trust you will root out this deplorable, despicable, treacherous, malicious vermin at the earliest opportunity. Have you met a nice werewolf at the castle my dear? I do worry about you being lonely.

  Thrix’s reading was interrupted by the sound of someone attempting to forcibly enter her room. She swiftly put her laptop to sleep and crossed over to the great wooden door which she had treated with a locking spell.

  “Yes, brother?” she called.

  “Open this door,” demanded Sarapen.

  “Ha
ve you forgotten how to knock?”

  “Open this door or I’ll tear it from its hinges.”

  It was an hour or so before dawn. Thrix and Sarapen were both in werewolf form. Thrix didn’t think that Sarapen could break through her locking spell but she couldn’t be sure. She brought a few other spells into her mind, in case she was forced to defend herself.

  “Are you ashamed to face me after voting for my brother?”

  “I’m not ashamed of anything I do,” replied Thrix, and muttered the word which ended the locking spell. The door flew open and Sarapen marched into the room.

  “How nice to see you, brother. Anything on your mind?”

  “How dare you conspire against me, Enchantress.”

  “I didn’t conspire. I voted. I’m free to vote any way I want.”

  Sarapen bent down to place his face close enough to Thrix’s for their snouts to touch. Thrix stood her ground.

  “Were it not for the entreaties of my advisors,” growled Sarapen. “The Great Council would already be short of several members. I warn you sister, I will not allow my mother to cheat me of my birthright. She may feel herself invulnerable to my wrath but you are not.”

  “Get your snout out of my face, Sarapen, or I’ll send you out of here with such force that the castle walls will buckle.”

  “You think your small magicks can affect me?” roared Sarapen.

  “You think your threats can change my mind?” countered Thrix.

  “I do not come to change your mind, sister. I come to warn you. The Council will meet again at the next full moon. And they will elect me as Thane. You would be wise to remember that.”

  Sarapen took a step backwards.

  “You admit that you have no interest in the family.”

  Thrix remained silent.

  “So will it not be easier for you to simply vote for me? After I am Thane I assure you that we will not trouble you.”

  In other circumstance Thrix might have smiled. It was so like her brother to leave his diplomacy until after he’d made his threats.