Lonely Werewolf Girl

by Martin Millar

  She looked in on the band occasionally and was pleased to find that they were busy. Dominil had wondered if the twins might indeed be nothing but talk but now, guitars in hand, microphones in front of them and a rhythm section behind them, they were working hard. Dominil didn’t find the sisters’ harsh music appealing but she hadn’t expected to. It didn’t matter. It only mattered that she could place it before the public in some way. She wondered what to do about finding gigs. No venue in the Camden area would let them play. There were other small venues around London but the twins weren’t keen.

  “It’s no use getting us a gig south of the river,” Beauty had said. “Who wants to go south of the river?”

  “There are a few places for bands to play in the west of the city.”

  “West London? Who goes there? You might as well get us a gig on the moon.”

  Dominil mulled over the problem. As most of the local venues only accepted bands through booking agencies, she wondered if she might find an agent who was willing to represent them. That was a possibility, but it might take a long time. Dominil needed to find them a gig soon. For now, it seemed best to keep looking by herself. As the Mistress of the Werewolves had suspected, she was taking to her task with something approaching enthusiasm. Dominil had spent far too many years doing nothing. Now, with something to accomplish, she was almost enjoying herself. She turned her mind to the matter of a name for the twins’ band. They’d last played gigs under the name of Urban Death Syndrome but wanted something new.

  “We want something aggressive,” said Delicious. “We want to let people know they’re in for a hard time.”

  The sisters’ four-hour rehearsal session was almost at an end. As Dominil sat with her notebook the owner of the studio arrived to confer with his staff. He looked at Dominil curiously as he passed by but did not speak. At seven o’clock Dominil put her head inside the thick, padded door of the rehearsal room to tell the band it was time to leave.

  “Did it go well?” she asked.

  “Really well!” enthused Beauty and Delicious. For the very first time Dominil felt some small amount of regard for the twins. They had worked hard and their faces were flushed with excitement. Here in the studio, with their bright pink and blue hair, and their guitars in their hands, they looked comfortable. Happy, and quite pretty, Dominil thought, in her objective way.

  Beauty hunted around in the large black bag she used to carry her book of lyrics.

  “Rehearsal tiring. Need sustenance.”

  “Also need sustenance,” said Delicious, and helped with the search. They brought out chocolate, ripping the wrapping paper off and cramming it in their mouths like children.

  “Yum yum,” said Beauty.

  “Sugary snacks,” said Delicious.

  Dominil paused. She watched the twins shoving chocolate into their mouths. Even by werewolf standards, it was an inelegant sight.

  “That’s what you should call your band,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Yum Yum Sugary Snacks.”

  Delicious nearly choked.

  “Are you serious?”

  “We were looking for something aggressive, remember?” said Beauty, scornfully.

  “There are too many doom-ridden and aggressive names already,” replied Dominil. “My suggestion would be ironic, and attractive.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?” demanded Delicious. Dominil had to admit she was treading in an area in which she had no experience. Nonetheless, she felt that it was a good suggestion. It suited the twin sisters, somehow. The sisters remained unconvinced.

  “Please Dominil, thanks for getting us to the studio but don’t come up with any more names.”

  Peter was carefully putting his guitar in its large black case.

  “I think it’s a good name,” he said.

  “That’s cos you’re lame-brained,” said Beauty.

  They carried their instruments out to the car. If the four young men noticed that Beauty, Delicious and Dominil were all unusually strong when it came to carrying things, they didn’t comment. They were pleased at the day’s events. None of them had ever expected to be rehearsing with the notorious twins again but now it had happened, it felt good. Already they could see that the sisters were right about Dominil. She wasn’t a lot of fun to be with but she did get things done.

  After they departed, the owner of the studio made a phone call. When the call was answered he spoke a password and was put through to the private switchboard of the Avenaris Guild.

  “I’d like to speak to Mr Carmichael. I have some information. About creatures who can change their shape, you understand?”

  100

  Gawain arrived at Thrix’s building at the same time as a motorbike courier delivering documents. As the door was opened for the courier Gawain strode in and made for the stairs. The receptionist called after him angrily and the security guard rushed to intercept him. Gawain brushed the guard aside and ran up the stairs.

  Thrix was waiting for him. She had been alerted by the security guard that an intruder was heading her way. She hoped it wasn’t Sarapen. If it was, her staff were going to see her displaying a lot of power she’d rather they didn’t know she had. It was a surprise when the invader turned out to be not Sarapen but Gawain. He halted when he saw her.

  “You couldn’t phone for an appointment?”

  “My business is very urgent,” said Gawain.

  “Or course,” retorted Thrix. “Everyone’s business is urgent, apart from mine. This way.”

  The Enchantress turned and led Gawain towards her office. She was extremely displeased to have her premises invaded by an uninvited werewolf.

  “Congratulations on breaking out of the cell. They should’ve kept you in the dungeon.”

  She crossed over to her cabinet and took out a bottle of the MacRinnalch malt. This, she felt, was ridiculous. She had no reason to welcome Gawain and had no desire whatsoever to offer him any hospitality. But he was a MacRinnalch, and the tradition of offering a guest from the clan a drink was too deeply embedded in her to break. Gawain accepted the whisky.

  “I want to know where Kalix is,” he said.

  Thrix placed the bottle on her desk and sat down.

  “I may be missing something here Gawain, but weren’t you banished? I don’t give out information to banished werewolves.”

  Gawain was not intimidated by the Enchantress and didn’t intend to bandy words with her.

  “Where is Kalix?” he asked, again.

  “I’ve no idea,” said Thrix.

  Gawain looked at her for a few seconds, as if considering his next words carefully.

  “Thrix. I once appealed to you for help. You told me then you didn’t know where your sister was. I doubt that was true. This time I know Kalix is in London. I was told by a reliable family source.”

  “Marwanis, no doubt,” said Thrix, surprising Gawain. “No one else at the castle would tell you anything. You should have stayed with Marwanis. She’d have been a much better partner than my underage sister.”

  Gawain scowled but did not respond to the jibe.

  “If Kalix is in London you know where she is. So kindly tell me.”

  Gawain’s voice had risen a fraction. Thrix knew that he would not easily be put off. She was momentarily uncertain of what to do. While she hadn’t exactly approved of his association with Kalix, neither had she been as outraged by it as the rest of the family. Indeed, as it had seemed to make Kalix happy, Thrix had occasionally thought it may have been better to let it continue. It crossed her mind to simply tell Gawain where Kalix was. It would get him out of her office. But would that really be for the best? Verasa wouldn’t like it and it would mean endless recriminations. Besides, Gawain might simply lead Sarapen to Kalix.

  “She was in London but she’s gone,” said Thrix, coolly. “I gave her a new pendant to hide her and she left the city. I think she intended to go to France.”

  “France? Why?”


  “Who knows? With you out of the picture, there hasn’t been much here for her.”

  “I will not be put off by lies. I’ll find Kalix.”

  “Good luck,” said Thrix.

  “If you’re lying to me I’ll be back.”

  “Are you attempting to threaten me?”

  “I am threatening you,” said Gawain, menacingly. “Nothing will keep me from Kalix.”

  “Yes fine, you’re a romantic hero,” said Thrix. “So go find your heroine. Shut the door on your way out.”

  Gawain rose to his feet and strode swiftly from the room. Behind him the Enchantress was thoughtful. Thoughtful and displeased. Another insolent werewolf who felt free to threaten her in her own domain.

  “If I didn’t have a business to run I’d blast them all to hell,” she muttered. She reached for the phone, intending to inform the Mistress of the Werewolves of her encounter but before she could pick it up Ann buzzed through from outside.

  “Who was the handsome stranger?” she asked.

  “Just another werewolf I didn’t want to see.”

  “Was he looking for a date?”

  “Sorry Ann,” said Thrix. “He’s already got an obsession.”

  “Your brother is on line one.”

  “Which brother?”

  “Markus.”

  Thrix shook her head as she took the call. There seemed to be no end to her family’s interference in her life.

  “Markus? What do you want? I’m busy.”

  “Talixia is dead.”

  “What?”

  “She’s dead. She’s been murdered.”

  “Who by?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll be right there,” said the Enchantress.

  101

  Thrix found Markus sitting in the hallway, numb with shock. Talixia lay dead on the floor. She had suffered a cut across her ribs and some blood had congealed around her body. It was a serious wound but Thrix saw immediately it shouldn’t have been fatal for a werewolf. She knelt down over the body.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Markus spoke with some difficulty. He’d arrived at the flat around an hour ago and the first thing he encountered was his lover’s dead body lying in the hallway. He was profoundly shocked and could say little more. When Thrix asked him if the body had been cold when he arrived he nodded and tears formed in his eyes.

  “This wound,” said Thrix. “It shouldn’t have killed her.”

  She checked the body for any other injuries but found none. She sniffed the air, then concentrated on the area around the body for a few moments, trying to discern if sorcery might have been involved. She couldn’t say for sure but she thought she could sense something not entirely of this world.

  “She’s been killed by the Begravar knife,” said Markus.

  Thrix shook her head. That was impossible. The Begravar knife was locked away in the vaults of Castle MacRinnalch.

  “It’s not,” said Markus. “It’s missing.”

  “Missing? Since when?”

  “Mother noticed it was gone a few days ago. She thinks Sarapen took it.”

  Thrix frowned, very deeply.

  “Sarapen couldn’t have done this.”

  “Why could he not?”

  Thrix struggled to find an answer. Was it possible? Could Sarapen have gone so far as to murder his brother’s girlfriend? A werewolf who had no say in the struggle for the Thaneship? If he had it was a far more shocking occurrence than anything Thrix was expecting.

  “I don’t believe he’s responsible,” she said, but there was uncertainty in her voice.

  “You think not?” Markus suddenly became animated. “Who else could it have been? Only the Begravar knife could have killed her. Sarapen has the knife! My brother has murdered her to get at me! I’ll kill him!”

  Markus rose to his feet and let out a dreadful howl. His face was contorted with rage and hatred.

  “Markus. We don’t know for sure what happened. We must speak to mother and - ”

  Markus wasn’t listening. He ran to the front door and rushed from the building. Thrix sighed. There was no point pursuing him. It would not be possible to reason with Markus just now. Thrix wasn’t certain that he should be reasoned with. If he was now seeking bloody revenge, what member of the MacRinnalch Clan could say he didn’t have the right to do so?

  It was as well that she was here. Someone had to clear up the mess. The murder couldn’t be reported to the police. They must not become involved in the internal feuding of the MacRinnalchs. The body would have to be taken discreetly to Scotland for the clan and Talixia’s family to deal with, as was fitting. The Enchantress, with her powers, could see that this was done without outside interference.

  She took out her phone and called the Mistress of the Werewolves. While waiting for Verasa to answer, Thrix sniffed out Talixia’s supply of the clan whisky and poured herself a large glass. The battle for the Thaneship was already spiralling out of control and there was no saying what the final consequences would be.

  102

  Moonglow had already transformed the small bathroom in their new flat into a pleasant space. The shelves were full of natural beauty products, there was a warm rug on the floor and a cheerful poster of dolphins on the wall. Kalix perched on the edge of the bath while Moonglow washed the werewolf’s self-inflicted wound.

  “Why do you do this?” she asked.

  “It makes me feel better,” said Kalix.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It just does.”

  Moonglow didn’t press the point. When the wound was clean and dry she led Kalix back into the living room and offered to make her some tea, which Kalix accepted.

  “But no milk or sugar.”

  While waiting for the kettle to boil Moonglow wondered what, if anything, she should do about Kalix’s self-cutting. It obviously wasn’t something she could be dissuaded from by a few kind words. Moonglow wondered if Kalix’s mental state might improve if she started to feel more secure in her surroundings.

  “Here’s your tea. Do you want anything to eat?”

  Kalix shook her head.

  “You should eat. You haven’t eaten all day.”

  “Don’t lecture me about it,” growled Kalix.

  “Okay,” said Moonglow.

  Kalix wanted to watch TV so they sat quietly in front of the screen for a while.

  “I wonder if Daniel went home with that girl?” said Moonglow, during the adverts. “She just homed in on Daniel. I’ve never seen such an instant attraction.”

  It was an odd thought, Daniel with a woman. Moonglow couldn’t quite picture it.

  “Why are there no good programmes on at night?” complained Kalix. “We need more channels. Can we get more TV channels?”

  “Definitely not,” said Moonglow.

  “I’ll stop cutting myself if we get more channels,” said Kalix.

  “Is that really true?” demanded Moonglow.

  “No,” admitted Kalix. Moonglow laughed. At four a.m. they heard the front door open. Daniel had returned. As he entered the room he found Moonglow and Kalix both eyeing him with unusual interest, and immediately felt uncomfortable.

  “What are you doing back here?” asked Moonglow. “I thought you’d gone off with Miss Dark Mysterious Stranger.”

  Daniel attempted to look casual.

  “Well, I thought about it. But, you know…”

  “What?”

  “I decided not to.”

  “Why not?”

  “What is this, an interrogation?” said Daniel, sounding exasperated. “Do I have to tell you every detail of my personal life? Is a man not entitled to the slightest bit of privacy round here?”

  Daniel went to the kitchen and hunted in the fridge, returning with a large plastic bottle of cheap lager purchased from the small supermarket on the corner, and they all sat watching TV and drinking from the bottle.

  “There’s nothing good on,” said Kalix, loo
king for support from Daniel. “Moonglow, if Daniel tells you all about his failure with the girl can we get cable TV?”

  “I did not have a failure!” said Daniel.

  “And no we can’t get cable TV,” said Moonglow. “But I’d like to hear about the failure.”

  “There was no failure. I simply decided to come home alone. Is there some law says I have to go home with any really attractive girl who asks me?”

  “You lost your nerve, didn’t you?” said Moonglow.

  “Completely. I mean, it was all too strange.”

  Daniel looked very unhappy.

  “Never mind,” said Moonglow soothingly. “It looked impressive anyway. Probably Alicia’s thinking about you in a whole new light, what with exotic girls pursuing you all over the party.”

  “You think so?”

  “Definitely.”

  Perhaps this was true. It couldn’t be denied that an exotic girl had pursued him all over the party. Daniel looked slightly less unhappy.

  It was very late the next day before any of them rose from their beds. Kalix arrived in the living room in the early afternoon to find Moonglow drinking her first cup of tea of the day. Moonglow was civilised in the matter of tea drinking, and had the tea pot, a small milk jug and a cup all placed neatly on a tray.

  “Tea?” she said to Kalix.

  “I’ve never drunk so much tea before,” said Kalix.

  They sat in silence for a little while. Kalix played with her nose ring. The gleaming piece of gold was the only jewellery she owned. The young werewolf looked better than she had for a long time. Her hair, still unusually long, was now thick and well conditioned due to liberal use of Moonglow’s hair products. Moonglow noticed how good Kalix looked, and hoped it would last. She had something to tell to Kalix that was going to be a little awkward. She didn’t want to offend her but it had to be said.

  “Kalix, I’ve invited my boyfriend Jay round tonight. He’s been wondering why I haven’t asked him over recently and it’s starting to look a bit odd. But there’s just one thing…”