After completing their tour of Scottish sites they’d flown south to complete their vacation in London. Here they’d visited the Tower where William James MacRinnalch had been imprisoned after the suppression of the Scottish rebellion of 1745. William MacRinnalch had fortunately not been held in prison for long, and his werewolf identity had not been discovered. The MacRinnalchs had not been enthusiastic supporters of Bonnie Prince Charlie, deeming his rebellion to have little chance of success. William’s involvement had been very minor, but he’d written a poem about his time in the tower of London which was still well known in the clan.
From Trafalgar Square they walked along the Strand to Waterloo Bridge then turned south. Between Waterloo Brigade and the South Bank Centre there were a series of underground passages, slightly confusing for visitors. They stopped to study the signs.
“I think we have to go through this tunnel and - ”
The werewolf stopped, and looked troubled.
“What’s the matter?” said his wife.
“Just felt funny for a moment, it’s - ”
He stopped again, and this time his wife did not speak, because she too was feeling strange. As if the world around her was muffled somehow. She shook her head, trying to clear it. It was the last thing she ever did. Mr Mikulanec stepped out up behind them and slashed down with his Begravar knife, cutting the back of her shoulder. Though it was a deep wound it should not have been fatal for a werewolf, but she fell down dead on the spot. Her husband tried to defend himself but his actions were unnaturally slow. Something was making it difficult to move. The last thing he saw was Mr Mikulanec’s knife heading for his chest then he too fell down dead.
Mr Mikulanec turned on his heel and disappeared up the next flight of stairs. Two werewolves located, and two werewolves killed. He was satisfied. He’d come across them by chance while prowling the streets looking for Kalix. Though there was nothing in their appearance to give them away as werewolves, the knife had told him. In the presence of a werewolf it would hum and vibrate. Then the power in the knife would confuse their senses, and the unnatural blade would kill them.
Mr Mikulanec reported his success to the Guild, and continued to hunt for Kalix.
97
Kalix declined Moonglow’s invitation to the party. She didn’t feel she could cope with mingling with so many people. Kalix was feeling unwell again. After the full moon she’d stopped eating and had suffered from some attacks of anxiety. Not as serious as those which had driven her in terror out onto the streets, but unpleasant enough. She suppressed them with diazepam and laudanum, and fell into a semi-stupor in which she dreamed about Gawain. Around midnight, as the laudanum wore off, she felt slightly more active. Daniel had showed her how to programme the small CD player. Kalix could quickly pick up anything she was taught, and now knew how to set the machine to play her favourites tracks over and over again. Moonglow and Daniel had burned a CD of her favourite songs. She put it on, then lay on her small bed and stared at the ceiling.
She tried to work out how she was feeling. Better, she thought. After eight days in this house she was already used to being warm and clean, which she liked. It still felt strange to be living with humans but her suspicions of them were lessening, though they hadn’t disappeared. Kalix still found it difficult to believe that anyone would help her without some ulterior motive.
She thought about Gawain and became unhappy. She knew she would never see him again. So no matter what happened, there would be no point to her life. She took out her journal and wrote this down. There is no point to my life. When she put her journal back in her bag she noticed her knife and wondered if she should cut herself. She usually did this when she thought there was no point to her life. She considered it for a while, as the Runaways and Transvision Vamp played endlessly on. Finally deciding that it would be a good idea, she took out the knife and made a long cut on her arm and watched it bleed.
Kalix heard the front door open. It was Moonglow, who came up the stairs very noisily.
“Kalix? Are you there?”
Kalix thrust her arm quickly under her quilt as Moonglow entered her room.
“Guess what happened at the party?”
Moonglow was clearly suffering, or enjoying, the effects of alcohol. Kalix was surprised. Moonglow sat down on the edge of the bed.
“A really beautiful girl picked Daniel up!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean this beautiful girl that nobody knew just walked up to Daniel and asked him to dance! She was so pretty. She had a sort of foreign accent. And she had on this green make-up which was quite strange but she was really beautiful. She wouldn’t let Daniel go, she practically dragged him onto the dance floor and then into the kitchen to get drinks and everybody was like, well, amazed, because you know, it was Daniel, and here was this girl throwing herself at him.”
Kalix was surprised to find Moonglow on the side of her bed, gossiping. It wasn’t something she was used to.
“So I just left them to it,” enthused Moonglow. “I got a taxi back myself, I didn’t even ask Daniel if he wanted to leave because obviously he wouldn’t want some other girl butting in when he was onto a good thing. What’s that stain?”
Moonglow stared in alarm at Kalix’s quilt which was turning red.
“Nothing,” said Kalix, quickly.
“What is it?” demanded Moonglow. She reached to pull down the quilt. Kalix moved swiftly to prevent her. She growled. Moonglow looked Kalix straight in the eye.
“Let me see,” she demanded.
Kalix scowled, but let go of Moonglow’s hand. Moonglow drew back the quilt. Blood was seeping out of the long cut in Kalix’s arm.
“Did you do that?” asked Moonglow.
“Yes,” said Kalix, defiantly. “So what?”
Moonglow sighed.
“You really shouldn’t,” she said. And then, trying not to make too much of it, she suggested to Kalix that they go to the bathroom and treat the wound.
98
Malveria drifted ethereally on the fringes of the world. She floated over the rooftops of London, not quite fully merged with the human dimension. When she found Alan Zatek’s offices in Constitution Street, not too far from Thrix’s own headquarters, she sank through the roof, materialising silently in an upstairs storeroom. She had masked herself very carefully by sorcery, and could not be observed. The security cameras in the corridors would not see her as she passed. Malveria was searching for Zatek’s private office. Once there she would examine his files. And possibly his computer, although this might be a problem. Malveria would not be able to search on a computer. However, if there were discs she could steal them and let the Enchantress examine them. She paused. There were voices coming from a room nearby.
“You were born to wear this dress.”
Someone was discussing clothes. Malveria boosted the power of her masking spells and slipped inside.
‘I am the Mistress of Stealth,’ she thought, with satisfaction. As soon as she entered the room Malveria came to an abrupt halt. Princess Kabachetka was there, talking to a small man with a shaved head who wore a black T-shirt and an earring in each ear. Forgetting that she was meant to be the mistress of stealth, the Fire Queen immediately cast off her spells of concealment.
“Aha!” she cried. “So here you are, you disgraceful fashion thief. I have caught you red handed in the act of piracy!”
“Malveria!” exclaimed the Princess, very surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Kabachetka looked like she had just stepped off the cover of Vogue. She was beautifully dressed, beautifully made up, and pencil thin, all of which increased Malveria’s irritation. The Fire Queen eyed her with loathing.
“Have you had liposuction?”
“Certainly not! The Princess Kabachetka does not need to resort to such procedures. I repeat, what are you going here?”
“I am confronting you about the disgraceful thefts of my fashion you have been carrying out.”
Queen Malveria pointed at Alan Zatek and there were flames flickering around her fingers.
“You cannot deny that you have been stealing designs from Thrix and giving them to this… this…” Malveria struggled to find words that were bad enough to describe Princess Kabachetka.
The Princess turned to Zatek and spoke apologetically.
“You must excuse the Queen. She has been upset since I began eclipsing her on the social calendar.”
“Eclipsing me? The day you eclipse me will be the day the moon runs backwards!”
Princess Kabachetka was a fire elemental, like Malveria, though from a different race, the Hainusta. Her hair was golden blonde, which made her the only blonde in her kingdom. Malveria knew that she went every week to have her roots dyed, to which she could make no objection, but the Princess then blatantly misled her followers into believing it was natural.
“Admit it, you have been stealing clothes that were intended for me!”
“Kabachetka does not require clothes that were made for you,” sniffed the Princess. “One hardly imagines that they would fit at all well, given the Queen’s generous proportions.”
“You dare call my proportions generous? Compared to you I am the slender willow beside the over-stuffed dragon. And I would not be at all surprised to find traces of rhinoplasty around your nose were I to examine it with a spell.”
“You will leave my nose alone!”
Princess Kabachetka, who was not short of power herself, stepped forward to confront Malveria and an ugly scene seemed inevitable till Alan Zatek held his hands up and screeched in a loud voice.
“Please! Stop this! How can I be expected to work in these conditions?”
Queen Malveria and Princess Kabachetka drew back, abashed. It was, after all, very bad form to cause a scene in front of a fashion designer. They were notoriously delicate. Even a designer like Alan Zatek, an enemy, should not be upset unnecessarily. If word got round, Malveria might find herself missing from the guest list at several important fashion shows.
“Perhaps there has been some misunderstanding?” said the designer.
“There is no misunderstanding,” replied Malveria. “This so-called Princess has been stealing my fashions and I strongly suspect that you have been copying them from Thrix.”
“From Thrix? Thrix Fashions?” Zatek laughed. “Please. Why would I need to do that?”
“Because this slut will stoop to any depths to get the better of me.”
“I’ve never stolen a design from you,” stated Kabachetka, emphatically. “They would be quite unsuitable for my slender frame.”
“You dare to once more imply that I am overweight, you daughter of a troll? You wish you were as slender as Malveria!”
“Please. Do not try to pretend you are not at this moment using several powerful spells to hide the rest of your bulk in another dimension.”
Malveria realised that her mission was a failure. She had meant to carry out her reconnaissance in secret and instead had ended up trading insults with her enemy.
“Well, Kabachetka. We shall see who is the best dressed at the Sorceress Livia’s 500th birthday celebration!”
“We shall indeed,” retorted Kabachetka. “And it will be me.”
“It will be me,” said Malveria, and dematerialised before the Princess could reply.
The Fire Queen flew back to her own dimension in an exceedingly bad temper. To have actually met the Princess while she tried on clothes was unbearable. And she had called her fat! Malveria would have her revenge. As soon as she entered her throne room her First Minister Xakthan hurried in.
“Mighty Queen, I’ve been awaiting your return. Today there has been a most interesting development in the courts of justice. A case of such complexity has arisen that it will take all of your great wisdom to resolve the matter. It seems that - ”
“What is this?” yelled the Fire Queen. “You expect me to trouble myself with petty matters of justice? Do I not have people to do these things for me?”
“Well yes, Mighty Queen, but I thought you would be eager to - ”
“Enough!” roared Malveria. “Do not waste my time with these trivial affairs. Sort it out yourself! That’s what I pay you for. And have you ever considered doing something about the flames which emerge from one ear? Do you have any idea how strange it is? The lack of symmetry is quite appalling.”
The First Minister looked abashed.
“I am sorry, mighty Queen, I did not realise…”
“Go,” snapped Malveria, waving her hand. “And when you have gone, send me Agrivex.”
Shortly afterwards Vex appeared in the throne room.
“Hi,” said Vex.
“Hi?” said the Fire Queen. “Is that how you greet me? The ruler of this realm and your benefactor?”
“Sorry Aunt Malvie.”
“Do not refer to me as Aunt Malvie, miserable niece! It is high time you learned some respect for your Queen.”
Vex, seeing that Malveria was angry, began the appropriate bowing and curtseying.
“Will you please stop that?” said Malveria, crossly. “You look ridiculous. What happened at the human’s party?”
Vex looked apologetic.
“It didn’t go that well.”
“Not that well? What do you mean, not that well?”
“I met Daniel and did as you instructed, you know, threw myself at him basically, but well, it just didn’t work.”
The Fire Queen frowned ominously.
“Explain yourself, dismal niece. Why did it not work?”
“I tried my best,” said Vex, defiantly. “I did everything you instructed. I was fitting in really well at the party - have you noticed the humans have sparkly nail varnish? - how come we don’t have that?”
“It is rather attractive, isn’t it?” agreed Malveria. “Sadly, my fashion advisor maintains - stop diverting me with your nonsense, girl. Continue with your sorry tale of failure.”
“Well everything seemed to be going fine. I asked Daniel to dance - which he was very bad at - and then, following your instructions closely, I steered him towards the kitchen, poured drinks and prepared to listen to his conversation. But this wasn’t so easy. He’s not great at conversation. Have you ever had an awkward silence? It was a new experience for me. I mean, what is there to be silent about? Anyway, finally he began to speak about music and this was better. I nodded occasionally, and smiled. And what more can a girl do? Once you’ve got a boy on his favourite topic and you’re nodding and smiling you should be home and dry. That’s what it says in Cosmo Junior anyway, and if you can’t trust Cosmo Junior I don’t know what to think.”
Vex paused, and looked troubled.
“I thought it was in the bag. Any moment now he asks me home and it’s mission successful and Aunt Malvie buys me new boots. You remember you promised me new boots, right? Anyway, he still seemed hesitant so I said I’d never met any boy I liked so much as Daniel and then I told him how good looking he was. Then I looked into his eyes and asked him if he knew anywhere I could spend the night.”
“And what happened?” demanded Malveria.
“He ran away.”
“What do you mean, ran away?”
Agrivex looked puzzled. If her aunt didn’t know what ran away meant, it was difficult to know where to start.
“Well, you know, like walking, but much faster, in the opposite direction - ”
“Silence, imbecile!” roared Malveria. “I do not need an explanation!”
The Fire Queen frowned, very deeply.
“You’d didn’t go to the party with vivid orange skin, did you?”
Agrivex shook her head.
“Absolutely not. I was my normal alluring honey colour. He’s just a hopeless case.”
Malveria was bewildered. She couldn’t understand it. Of course Vex was not an accomplished seductress, but for a young man like Daniel, an accomplished seductress would have been quite unsuitable. Someone young and bright was wh
at was required. Agrivex should have been ideal.
Vex smiled brightly at the Fire Queen. She had a lovely smile. Her spiky blonde hair gave her a boyish look.
“So can I have my new boots now? I saw this fabulous pair at the party. Sort of clumpy but with these really nice silver buckles - ”
“The boots were a reward for success. You have failed.”
“But I did everything I could,” protested Vex.
“Foolish girl,” said the Fire Queen ominously. “Do not trouble me at this time.”
“It’s no trouble,” said Vex, brightly. “I just need the boots.”
“Begone!” roared the Fire Queen.
Vex looked hurt.
“But I want the boots.”
“Get out before I call the guards, dismal niece,” said Malveria.
“I hate you!” cried Vex, then stormed out of the throne room, complaining loudly that her life would have been better if she’d been thrown into the volcano when she was eight.
Malveria sighed. Today had been very unsatisfactory.
99
While the band rehearsed Dominil sat outside in the small reception room at the front of the studio. It was not a comfortable room, having only one ripped sofa and a coffee machine that had stopped working years ago. Dominil didn’t mind. She took a notebook from her pocket and jotted down a few phrases in Latin. For some time Dominil had been working on a new translation of the poetry of the Tibullus, a Roman poet from the first century BC. He was quite a minor poet, but Dominil liked his light style, and was amused by his tales of mistresses and prostitutes.
Lonely Werewolf Girl Page 27
