Lonely Werewolf Girl

by Martin Millar

  Twenty minutes later she knocked heavily on the bathroom door.

  “It’s time to go. Finish your hair. We’re only going to the rehearsal studio. Have you considered the matter of a name for your band yet? If I’m to book you gigs you need a name.”

  Dominil noticed a familiar aroma.

  “Are you drinking whisky in there?”

  “Yes. And we’re almost finished our hair. We haven’t thought of a name yet. What was that stupid one you suggested?”

  “Yum Yum Sugary Snacks. I still like it. It employs irony, and also alliteration. Alliteration has been a powerful poetic tool for a long time. The Anglo-Saxon poets - ”

  “Will you shut up?” yelled Beauty.

  “We’ll call the band anything just so long as you don’t go on about these damned Anglo-Saxon poets again,” added Delicious.

  When the twins were finally ready Dominil bundled them into her car and set off. They were late, though it probably wouldn’t matter. The others would also be late. No matter how scared everyone was of Dominil - and they were all scared of her - it seemed that no power on earth could get musicians to turn up anywhere on time.

  Dominil drove down to London Bridge with a lot on her mind. She would have had a great deal more on her mind if she’d known that the owner of the studio, having recognised them as werewolves due to his previous association with the Guild, had already alerted Mr Carmichael. The hunters were waiting for Yum Yum Sugary Snacks.

  109

  Gawain’s next destination was the lair of the Young MacDoig. If Kalix was using laudanum it could only have come from the MacDoigs. There was no other known source. The night was cold and the rain was coming down heavily by the time Gawain arrived at the narrow alleyway in Limehouse.

  “Who is it?”

  “Gawain MacRinnalch. Here to see the Young MacDoig.”

  “The Young MacDoig is not here,” came the reply.

  Gawain called back loudly. “Open this door or I’ll remove it from its hinges.”

  There was a pause. Gawain prepared to transform into his werewolf shape but before he could tear the door down it swung open and he found himself confronted not by the Young MacDoig but his father, the Merchant himself. The Merchant beamed at him.

  “Gawain MacRinnalch! An unexpected pleasure. Come in man, and have a glass!”

  Gawain entered the shop. He paid no heed to the clutter of artefacts, and shook his head at the offer of a drink.

  “What brings you round these parts?” asked the Merchant. He smiled jovially, as if nothing could have pleased him more than a visit from Gawain. Despite being indoors he still wore his black hat and even though Gawain was fixated on his task he could not help but notice that MacDoig, with his side-whiskers and cane, was a notably strange figure. Micawber come to life perhaps, or Mr Pickwick.

  “I’m looking for Kalix.”

  “Kalix MacRinnalch? I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place, young Gawain. I’ve not seen Kalix for many a long year. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

  The Merchant looked at Gawain, a benevolent expression on his red, cheerful face. MacDoig knew well that the Mistress of the Werewolves had banished Gawain, and he didn’t intend to do anything which might upset the clan. He might have been prevailed upon to sell information but he surmised, quite correctly, that Gawain had no money to spare.

  “I think you must have some knowledge of her,” declared Gawain. “I was told that Kalix has been taking laudanum. No one sells laudanum these days but you and your son.”

  “Laudanum? It’s a fine product, I grant you that. It suits the temperament of the poetic man, and indeed the poetic werewolf. I’m not one to partake of it myself, of course, but I believe it has fuelled the imagination of many an artist. Are you sure you won’t take a glass of whisky with me?”

  “Never mind the whisky,” growled Gawain. “Where’s Kalix?”

  The Merchant chuckled, and placed his thumbs in the pockets of his pattered waistcoat.

  “Not been here, Gawain, not been here at all.”

  “You’re lying,” said Gawain. “Her scent is in this room.”

  The Merchant chuckled again.

  “There’s no scent of any werewolf in this room, not even yours.”

  MacDoig the Merchant was telling the truth. Though he was not a sorcerer, MacDoig had a great deal of esoteric knowledge. He had traded for many spells from various realms. There was one in place here which prevented anyone from sensing who might have visited recently. Gawain was bluffing. He couldn’t sense Kalix. Gawain gave a long low snarl and transformed into a werewolf.

  “I won’t ask you politely again,” he said. “Tell me about Kalix.”

  “Gawain, you are fine young werewolf. One of the finest, I’ve always said. I knew your father well. What a warrior, and his father before him. I was always sorry you found yourself in trouble with the clan. My advice - ”

  He broke off as Gawain hurled himself towards him. Before he reached the Merchant, Gawain was flung backwards with great force. He crashed against the wall and found himself looking rather foolishly at the MacDoig, who continued to grin affably.

  “Ah, Gawain, you always did have a streak of impatience in you. You know, young sir, that the MacDoigs are valued trading partners in many places, and when a man goes to some of these places, he picks up a thing of two. I wear a charm that will protect me from any werewolf. Not that I expect any werewolf to attack me. After all I’m a great friend of the MacRinnalchs.”

  MacDoig picked up a bottle and a glass from a table nearby.

  “Are you sure you won’t have a drink?”

  Gawain growled, and shook his head.

  “Then I suppose it’s time for you to leave,” said the Merchant, and opened the door.

  Later the Merchant chuckled to himself. Gawain. An impetuous wolf. Heading for a bad end, he was sure. To whom would it most profit him to transmit news of Gawain? The Mistress of the Werewolves? Or her son Sarapen? Both perhaps? Like any good business-man, MacDoig was always keen to keep in with his customers, and if in doing so he could turn a profit, that was all to the good.

  110

  Kalix woke up the next day a little vague about what had happened the night before. Feeling thirsty, she dressed quickly and went downstairs. When Kalix crossed through the living room she was surprised to see Moonglow and Jay huddled together on the floor, under a quilt. They were still asleep but somehow they didn’t look comfortable. The young werewolf crept past silently, took water from the kitchen and went back upstairs. As she reached her room, Daniel’s bedroom door opened and he peered out.

  “Are they awake yet?” he whispered.

  Kalix shook her head. Daniel tiptoed along the corridor with exaggerated stealth and slipped into Kalix’s small room.

  “Good,” he said. “I’m leaving the house before Moonglow gets up.”

  “Why?” said Kalix, puzzled.

  “After last night’s debacle I figure she might need a few hours to cool off.”

  “What’s a debacle?”

  “A general disaster in which everything goes wrong. You don’t remember?”

  Kalix shook her head.

  “What went wrong?”

  “Well, there was you collapsing all over her boyfriend for one thing.”

  Daniel looked pointedly at Kalix’s bag.

  “So the mysterious werewolf herbal concoction turns out to be laudanum. Powerful stuff, by all accounts. Yes, well may you hang your head in shame, Kalix, the way you plummeted to the ground, upsetting Moonglow’s carefully laid dinner arrangements.”

  Noticing that this had made Kalix much more agitated than he intended, Daniel hurried to reassure her.

  “Don’t worry about it. Your collapse was no more than a side show compared to my performance.”

  “What did you do?”

  It was Daniel’s turn to look ashamed.

  “Started an argument with Jay and, quite possibly, tried to pick a fight with him.”


  “You tried to pick a fight?” said Kalix, quite astonished at the thought. She couldn’t imagine Daniel fighting with anyone.

  “I was severely provoked. He criticised Motorhead. You can’t do that in this house. Not when I’ve been drinking cider, anyway. I guess I didn’t really try to fight him. Just abused him verbally for a while…”

  Kalix looked sympathetically at Daniel.

  “Is this all because you’re in love with Moonglow?”

  “How did you know that?” cried Daniel, agitated.

  “It’s the most obvious thing in the world.”

  “Is it? I suppose it is. Well, maybe that was why. But it’s not just me that doesn’t like Jay. Malveria really took against him. They had an argument about astrology and then when he had the nerve to spout some rubbish about Stonehenge she put him pretty soundly in his place. You can’t argue with Malveria about Stonehenge, her grandmother knew the people who built it.”

  Daniel paused, and looked troubled.

  “It all seemed funny at the time but I don’t think Moonglow was very pleased. No girl likes to see her boyfriend harassed from every direction.”

  “Why are they sleeping downstairs?”

  “Because Malveria accepted Moonglow’s offer of a bed for the night. Not that Moonglow actually made the offer. Malveria just said she was tired and she much appreciated Moonglow’s hospitality. Then she disappeared up to Moonglow’s room. Jay was surprised.”

  Daniel stood up.

  “I’m actually planning to arrive at university two hours before my first lecture, so you’ll appreciate how much I don’t want to meet Moonglow right now.”

  Daniel crept away and soon afterward Kalix heard him going as quietly as he could down the stairs and out of the house. She smiled. It sounded as if last night had been fun. She was sorry she couldn’t remember it very well.

  ‘But now they know about the laudanum,’ she thought, and became worried. ‘And Moonglow will be angry at me for collapsing on her boyfriend.’ She wondered if she should follow Daniel’s example and vacate the flat for a while. Deciding it would be a good idea, she put on her ragged coat, slung her bag over her shoulder and slipped out silently. She had nowhere to go, but, remembering how she had enjoyed looking at the boats, she decided to head for the river.

  As Kalix walked swiftly northwards she attracted plenty of attention, though not the sort that she’d attracted recently. Then people had wondered who the sick, trembling girl might be. Now they looked at her with admiration. She was still very pale, but she was healthier, and clean. With her large dark eyes, her perfect cheekbones and her incredibly long dark glossy hair, she looked like a teenage model walking down the catwalk to exhibit some new collection of ragged urban clothing. Kalix was exceptionally beautiful, the most beautiful of the ruling family of the MacRinnalchs, who were, as everyone acknowledged, a notably beautiful family.

  111

  Wary in case hunters from the Avenaris Guild were patrolling the same area, Kalix took a different route towards the river. She turned north east, became slightly lost, and ended up heading towards London Bridge. It was now well into the afternoon and the rain began to come down heavily. Kalix pulled her coat around her and put on her sunglasses. She still enjoyed wearing shades at inappropriate times.

  A hundred yards from the river, she stopped, and sniffed the air. She could smell werewolves. Who was it? Someone whose scent she hadn’t encountered for a long time. She sniffed again. More than one werewolf. There were too many other scents around for her to distinguish them properly. She walked on, intrigued. As she neared London Bridge and the scents became clearer she realised with surprise that it was her cousin Dominil. What could she be doing here?

  Kalix halted, and wondered if she should turn back. Dominil had never tried to pursue her before but why else would she be here? Kalix’s mother must have sent her. Kalix scowled and was about to go back when she suddenly recognised the other werewolf scents. Butix and Delix. Kalix remembered them with more fondness that any other members of her family. They had always been creating havoc in the castle and it was they who’d given Kalix her first taste of whisky. Kalix was sure that Beauty and Delicious wouldn’t be in pursuit of her. ‘Perhaps,’ she thought, ‘They’ve fled from the clan and that horrible white wolf Dominil has come to attack them.’ Dominil had always treated Kalix with contempt and Kalix could believe anything bad about her. She trotted forward, prepared to rescue Beauty and Delicious from the evil Dominil.

  Kalix found herself in a small back street full of shabby looking premises. A builders yard, a boarded up cafe, a few empty shops in a bad state of repair. She concealed herself behind a white van and looked on curiously as several young men came out of a building nearby carrying instruments. They loaded them into a car. Kalix managed to catch a few of their words.

  “That white-haired maniac never gives us a break.”

  “She’s insane. She belongs in an asylum.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it,” said the third young man. “She got us back in the studio didn’t she?”

  The rest of their words were lost as they drove off. So they were musicians. And Dominil was helping them. Kalix stood on her own on the pavement in the rain, wondering if she should go inside. It would be good to see Beauty and Delicious, perhaps. Kalix suddenly remembered that even though the twins had given her whisky at the castle, they hadn’t really been her friends. They had been too involved in their own affairs to pay her much attention. Sometimes when they’d been up to some mischief and Kalix had wanted to go along, they’d sent her away, telling her she was too young.

  It was becoming dark and Kalix didn’t like this gloomy street with the boarded up buildings. Deciding she didn’t want to meet three werewolves who’d probably not want to talk to her, she turned to leave. Then several things happened in quick succession. First Kalix caught the scent of Sarapen. Before she could move Sarapen dropped from the sky having apparently travelled over the rooftops. As he landed beside her he seemed surprised.

  “Kalix? It was not your scent I followed. Indeed, you seem to have no scent.”

  Sarapen took a step towards her, as darkness fell.

  “But it’s as good a place to meet you as anywhere, sister.”

  Kalix prepared to defend herself but they were interrupted by a great commotion as several vans raced into the street. A crowd of men with dogs emerged from the vehicles and swarmed into the rehearsal studios.

  “Dominil,” muttered Sarapen. He immediately changed into his immense werewolf form and sprinted towards the rehearsal studio. Kalix transformed and ran after him. Seeing members of her clan in peril she forgot about the danger she was in from Sarapen, and hurried to assist them.

  The two werewolves crashed through the front door of the studio to find the place in uproar. The corridor leading to the rehearsal rooms was full of men with snarling dogs who were heading for a room at the far end. The mighty Sarapen in his terrifying werewolf form fell on them with fury, sending one crushed body spinning away before picking up another and tossing it like a child’s doll onto the heads of the men in front. The hunters, surprised by the unexpected assault from behind, yelled as they turned to face their attackers. Kalix fixed her jaws to the neck of a hunter and her teeth tore great wounds on his throat. She tossed the body away and leapt for the next. Her battle-madness descended on her and she bit, clawed, kicked and beat her way down the corridor in a savage fury, arriving at the door of the rehearsal room over a pile of broken and bloody bodies.

  Sarapen was already there. He rushed into the rehearsal room where Dominil was disappearing under the weight of her attackers. There were men with guns, trying to get a clear shot at the savagely resisting werewolf, and dogs hanging on to her legs, snarling and barking. Beauty and Delicious, who for some reason had not transformed into their werewolf shape, were trying to beat off their attackers with their guitars. This was futile. The sisters were thrown back and hunters leapt to grab hold of them. Kalix jumped
across the rehearsal studio, tearing the gun from one hunter’s hand then smashing her taloned foot brutally into the face of another. A dog tried to sink its teeth into her leg and Kalix stamped downwards, breaking its neck.

  Sarapen leapt into the heaving mass of bodies around Dominil, dragging them from her and tossing them against the walls. Two shots rang out and he flinched slightly before his jaws were around the neck of the man who had fired them, almost decapitating him with the strength of his bite. Seizing the opportunity, Dominil leapt to her feet. Her white werewolf coat was stained with blood but she threw herself back into the fray, tearing and rending the men from the Guild. They began to fall back, finding themselves confronted by a great deal more werewolf strength than they’d been expecting. They had not anticipated the savage, bestial fury of Kalix, Sarapen and Dominil. When Kalix finished off the hunters who had been attacking the twins, and turned to fall upon the men confronting Sarapen and Dominil, they broke and ran.

  The rehearsal room was now a grim scene of destruction. Broken and bleeding bodies lay everywhere. Men and dogs moaned in pain among the smashed remains of the studio equipment. Ruined amplifiers and speakers littered the floor. Dominil wasted no time in examining the aftermath of the battle.

  “Outside,” she said. “My car.”

  Beauty and Delicious seemed shocked by the events. They were not warlike. Dominil grabbed them and dragged them from the building.

  “You drive,” she said, thrusting Delicious into the front seat. Delicious put the key in the ignition and pulled away from the kerb like a racing driver, and Dominil didn’t protest. There was no telling if reinforcements from the Guild might be on the way.

  In the back of the car Kalix found herself in the unusual position of being separated only by Dominil from her older brother. She remained in her werewolf form, ready to fight him off. Dominil turned her white head towards her.