Lonely Werewolf Girl

by Martin Millar

  “I have no idea. But unless you talk to him, you’ll certainly never find out.”

  Kalix fell silent, thinking about this. She supposed it was true. She took a sip from her bottle of laudanum.

  “Please keep a clear head,” said Dominil.

  “Okay,” said Kalix, and put the bottle away.

  179

  Verasa’s confidence that the Barons would not attack the castle was misplaced. Sarapen was already planning the assault, though he knew it would be difficult. The walls were high and strongly guarded. Humans could never scale them; werewolves might, but not in the face of determined opposition.

  “There are two well-tested means of taking a castle,” he pointed out to Decembrius. “Through siege, or through treachery. As a siege would be difficult and time-consuming, I prefer the latter.”

  Marwanis had left the castle but her father and brother remained. Kurian was old, and not well, but his son Kertal was a supporter of Sarapen’s. The Mistress of the Werewolves would probably be having him watched, but even so, it might be possible for Kertal to provide the necessary help from inside.

  It was fortunate for Decembrius that his stock was high with Sarapen at the moment, due to the information he’d gathered about Dominil, and the twins’ gig. Had it not been, Sarapen might well have reprimanded him more severely for the affair in Kennington Park. He was very unimpressed by Decembrius firing a silver bullet into Fergus. For a werewolf to fire a silver bullet was taboo. In different circumstances Sarapen might have punished Decembrius. As it was, in time of war, there were some traditions which could perhaps be overlooked.

  Sarapen didn’t waste much sympathy on the injured werewolf, even though Fergus Douglas-MacPhee had endured great pain. The silver bullet, penetrating his shoulder, had burned like acid. The MacRinnalchs in London did have a werewolf doctor on whose services they could call but he was busy operating on a human patient when Fergus was shot, so it took some time for him to attend. Fergus had not taken the pain well. Sarapen had left him with his brother and sister, contemptuous of the injured werewolf’s unseemly howling. He’d be better soon enough.

  Sarapen was far more interested in Decembrius’s latest piece of information. Markus had returned to Scotland and was now captain of the castle guard. On hearing this, Sarapen laughed. His delicate brother, head of a force of fighting MacRinnalchs.

  “It becomes ever more ridiculous,” he said. “When the guard learns what sort of werewolf they’ve got for a leader they’ll probably throw him over the walls.”

  At least his younger brother was no longer in hiding. He’d gone to the castle to save it but he’d find that he was trapped there, and Sarapen would make sure he never left it alive.

  180

  Dominil drew up outside the twins’ house. Kalix had been feeling more and more agitated as they approached, and now she quailed.

  “I can’t help them,” she blurted out. “They’ll just laugh at me.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure your presence will have a beneficial effect.”

  Kalix was very dubious. She knew if the twins thought she was there to help cure their stage fright they’d mock her and refuse to listen to anything she said.

  “The twins won’t know you’re there to help them,” said Dominil. “Just observe them for a while, and perhaps later you can suggest to me some means of making them calmer.”

  “You promise not to say anything to them about me trying to help them?”

  “Certainly,” said Dominil.

  Kalix trudged up the path with her coat pulled tightly around her and her shoulders hunched, feeling very awkward. Already she regretted the lack of willpower that had allowed Dominil to coerce her into coming here. They entered the house, which smelled of whisky.

  “I’ve brought a visitor,” announced Dominil. Kalix shrank backwards but Dominil propelled her into the room.

  “I have informed Kalix that you are both suffering from serious anxiety,” said Dominil. “She is an expert in the subject and will tell you what to do about it.”

  Kalix reeled in shock, and turned her eyes in horror on the treacherous Dominil. The twins were staring at her in surprise, wondering what this was about.

  “I don’t - ” spluttered Kalix, and ground to a halt.

  “I have some arrangements to make for the gig,” said Dominil. “So I’ll leave you for a while. Now remember, listen to Kalix. She’ll tell you how to get over your stage fright.”

  With that, Dominil strode out of the room and out of the house. Kalix watched her go with gritted teeth. She turned back towards the twins. They were staring at her with hostile expressions.

  “Why does that white-haired bitch keep saying we’re anxious?” demanded Delicious.

  “And what do you think you’re going to do about it?” demanded Beauty.

  “Eh…” said Kalix, who wished she might be swallowed up by an earthquake.

  “So you just felt like paying a visit and lecturing us?”

  “As if Dominil isn’t lecturing us enough?”

  Kalix sighed. She felt weak, and had to sit down.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Dominil tricked me. I didn’t know she was going to say that.”

  The twins weren’t listening. They seemed convinced that Kalix had insisted on coming to their house and lecturing them.

  “Where do these werewolves get off?” raged Delicious. “Barging into other people’s homes and lecturing them about stuff?”

  “What do you think this is?” shouted Beauty. “A support group for unhappy werewolves?”

  Kalix flinched under the verbal assault. It was quite prolonged and seemed far more hostile than necessary. Obviously her presence had touched some nerve.

  “How does Dominil think you’re going to help anyway?” said Beauty. “You’re the one with problems.”

  She took a drink straight from her whisky bottle.

  “I’m not worried about the gig.”

  “Neither am I,” declared Delicious. “We don’t need any stressed-out junior MacRinnalchs coming here and lecturing us.”

  Kalix felt that this was going too far. She hadn’t wanted to come in the first place.

  “I didn’t come here to lecture you,” she said, more forcibly. “I just came because Dominil insisted. I don’t even care if you’re anxious.”

  “Well, we’re not.”

  “Yes you are,” said Kalix. “But I don’t care.”

  “No we’re not and it’s none of your business anyway.”

  “You’re the most stressed werewolves in London,” sad Kalix, now angry. “You can’t fool me, I can sense it.”

  “Well, so what if we are!” screamed Delicious. “Stop going on about it! No one asked you to stick your nose in!”

  “That’s fine!” yelled Kalix. “I don’t care if you get so drunk you fall off the stage and everyone laughs at you again.”

  “We never fell off the stage,” objected Beauty.

  “Yes you did,” said Kalix. “Dominil read me the review. It said the audience all laughed at you.”

  She stood up.

  “Anyway I don’t care. I’m leaving and I’m not even coming to your stupid gig. If you’re as frightened as a pair of sissy little puppies that’s your problem.”

  “What did you call us?”

  “Sissy little puppies.”

  Beauty and Delicious were stunned by the insult. They raged at Kalix, trying to insult her back, but nothing they could say stung like Kalix’s juvenile taunt.

  The door opened and Dominil came in. None of them had heard her enter the house. There was an odd expression on her face. Almost as if she was about to laugh. She controlled it.

  “Sissy little puppies,” she said, appreciatively. “Such a perfect phrase.”

  “I want to go,” said Kalix.

  “But why? You’re doing such a fine job.”

  “We’re just arguing.”

  “That’s good,” said Dominil. “Beauty and Delicious would neve
r argue with me. They simply refused to speak.”

  Kalix was confused.

  “Did you just bring me here to start an argument?”

  “I wanted Beauty and Delicious to acknowledge the problem. Which they now seem to have done.”

  “You tricked me,” said Kalix. “That’s not very nice.”

  “I am not very nice,” replied Dominil. “As everyone knows.”

  She turned to Beauty and Delicious.

  “So. Now you admit there is a problem. Good. That is progress. You have nineteen days to get over your stage fright. I suggest you talk sensibly to Kalix. If you stop trying to insult her and have a rational discussion instead, you’ll find it helpful.”

  This time when Dominil left them alone, they did manage to have a more rational discussion. Kalix had some suggestions for coping with anxiety, strategies she’d learned over the years, either from her therapist or by herself. The sisters were never going to radically change their lifestyle, but were impressed by her simple suggestion that each time they found themselves anxious, they took a series of deep breaths from their abdomen.

  “And some time every day, imagine yourself walking confidently on to the stage and playing really well.”

  Delicious and Beauty looked at each other.

  “We could probably do that. You think it will help?”

  “It might. Sometimes it works for me. And maybe you might feel better now anyway, now you’ve talked about it.”

  Delicious nodded.

  “How come we don’t have therapists?” she asked her sister.

  “We just never thought of it before,” replied Beauty. “We should get some. Rock stars need therapists, it’s part of the deal. “

  Dominil arrived back in the room. Kalix scowled. She had not forgiven Dominil for tricking her. The white-haired werewolf, impervious to Kalix’s glare, calmly asked the twins if they’d been making progress. Beauty and Delicious said that they had.

  “Very well,” said Dominil. “I will trust you both to carry out your relaxation exercises as recommended by Kalix.”

  In Dominil’s mind, the problem was already solved, which was a mistake. Kalix knew that they wouldn’t completely get rid of their nerves before the gig. They’d still need encouragement, probably from a bottle of the MacRinnalch whisky. But Dominil was at least correct in believing they’d made progress. The gig was coming closer, and she was busy with fliers, posters, mailing lists, equipment checks, rehearsals and various other things. The werewolf knew that her methodical preparation was somewhat out of the ordinary. The other unknown bands playing that night would very likely turn up having done a minimum of preparation. Dominil however, could not arrive for any event unprepared. It didn’t matter if it was a small gig of little importance. Yum Yum Sugary Snacks would be ready.

  Dominil had a feeling that Sarapen might come to the gig. If that happened she too would be ready. She looked forward to plunging the Begravar knife deep into her former lover’s heart.

  181

  “Agrivex will drive me into an early grave. Her sulking is pervading the palace.”

  “Aren’t you used to it by now?” wondered Thrix.

  The Fire Queen frowned darkly.

  “It has taken on an alarming new dimension. Previously the abominable niece has sulked only about clothes, make-up and lessons. Now she has also decided to sulk about boys. It is wearing me quite to a shadow. I swear I can go nowhere in my palace without bumping into some part of Agrivex’s miserable aura which she has left behind. The Hiyasta aura does tend to fragment, when misery strikes.”

  Thrix and Malveria were transporting the latest batch of clothes to Moonglow’s house. There were many of them, too many for Malveria to whisk through space, so they were using Thrix’s car. The car was well protected by spells but even so she drove quickly, keen to escape from Zatek’s prying eyes.

  “I made a profound mistake when I halted the sacrifice of Agrivex at a young age. I set in motion a tragic chain of circumstances which now threatens to engulf us all. Empires may crumble.”

  “Malveria, you’re exaggerating.”

  “Perhaps a smidgen. Is smidgen correct? It sounds like a peculiar word.”

  “It’ll do.”

  “Empires may not crumble but the inhabitants of the palace are suffering. My pastry chef has been complaining that Agrivex’s gloom is pervading the kitchen and affecting the balance of his finest creations. I don’t want my pastry chef to be unhappy. It took me a long time to find a fire elemental with such a light touch at the mixing bowl.”

  Thrix waited impatiently at traffic lights and sped away as soon as they changed. Malveria nodded appreciatively. She enjoyed Thrix’s impatient driving.

  “Which boy is she sulking about?”

  “Daniel.”

  “Daniel? I didn’t know she liked him.”

  “I am convinced she does not,” said Malveria. “However, she wanted to stay with him after she had the effrontery to try on my new shoes. Most probably she only wished to avoid returning to the palace and facing me. I understand there was a scene of some embarrassment involving Moonglow, Kalix and Daniel all feeling awkward. Daniel told her she should probably not stay. Now Agrivex has managed to persuade herself that she has been rejected by the boy she loves most in all the world.”

  “Well,” said Thrix. “You know, young love, it’s always difficult.”

  “Agreed. But there are limits, and I will not allow my idiotic niece to upset my pastry chef over some boy she never cared for at all only two days ago. The almost-adopted niece of the Hiyasta Queen does not sob like a little girl when perplexed in matters of love. This is beneath the dignity of the Hiyasta Royalty. I ejected her from the palace with instructions either to either make Daniel love her, or else forget about him.”

  “And how did that go?” asked Thrix, successfully cutting in front of a taxi that was going far too slowly for her liking.

  Malveria pursed her lips.

  “Very badly. Vex has now retreated to her room and refuses to communicate for any reason.”

  “What happened?”

  “Daniel tried to explain the rules of - ” Malveria paused. “What is the human game that requires white clothes and a great deal of time?”

  “Cricket?”

  “That is it. Cricket. Apparently the rules of this game are most puzzling and complex. Daniel tried to explain these rules to Vex. As a consequence of this I understand she almost lost consciousness, and had to be helped to a chair, in a very poor state of mind. It was some time before she could summon enough energy to return to her own dimension. She has subsequently refused to leave her room, and has only her favourite cuddly toy for comfort.”

  “Her favourite cuddly toy?”

  “A fluffy dragon.”

  “It sounds comforting,” said Thrix.

  “Yes,” agreed Malveria. “She has always found it to be a tremendous comfort. Perhaps because it is so very fluffy. A present from the First Minister on her eighth birthday, and a great favourite ever since.”

  Thrix was puzzled. “Did Vex want to know about cricket? I wouldn’t have taken her for the sporting type.”

  “Indeed she is not. The Hiyasta are not great players of sport, as a rule, and Agrivex less so than anyone. Vex will trip over her own feet at the slightest excuse. But she was following her standard procedure for attracting boys. She has read these procedures in Cosmo Junior and sticks to them religiously. One of them is to find out the boy’s interests and ask him about them. It was just Vex’s grave misfortune that Daniel turned out to be interested in cricket. Apparently the game has a great many complicated rules and many peculiar names.”

  “Does it?” said Thrix, who knew nothing at all about cricket.

  “So Agrivex claims. But she is prone to hysteria, and may have misunderstood some of Daniel’s words. It’s hard to believe that any game could involve a silly mid-wicket, though Vex swears that Daniel said exactly that.”

  Malveria sighed. />
  “Now things are worse than ever. Agrivex still pines for Daniel but is convinced he is mocking her with false stories about cricket. I think the whole affair may have shaken her belief in Cosmo Junior, and that is a serious matter. It’s never let her down before. She’s currently hunting through back issues to see if there is some loophole in the matter of asking boys about their interests.”

  182

  Fifteen days before the full moon, the Barons marched. The MacPhees and the MacAllisters came from the south and the east while Red Ruraich MacAndris occupied the land to the west. They did not yet come near to the castle, but guarded all roads and trails then settled down to wait.

  Sarapen was losing patience with Baron MacGregor. It would lend legitimacy to the rebellion if it was supported by all the Barons but MacGregor had not yet indicated if he would join them. Sarapen’s natural inclination was to send a thinly veiled threat. Decembrius disagreed, and urged Sarapen to make further efforts to win the Baron’s support through diplomacy.

  “Time grows short,” growled Sarapen.

  “There are fourteen days till we attack the twins’ gig. Fifteen days till the first night of the full moon and our assault on the castle. The MacGregors would need only a few days to make ready.”

  Sarapen was again irritated by Decembrius’s appearance. His swept-back red hair, pale skin and angular features were somehow annoying. Decembrius’s appearance had degenerated recently, in Sarapen’s eyes. He had a new earring, which Sarapen didn’t like at all, and a pair of overly-fancy motorbike boots.

  “What would persuade the Baron?” asked Sarapen.

  “Marwanis.”

  “Marwanis? Has she influence with Baron MacGregor?”

  “No. But she has influence with his son Wallace.”

  Sarapen frowned. It was the first he’d heard of it. Wallace MacGregor, eldest son of the Baron, was a huge werewolf and a noted champion, but he was not, by all accounts, the smartest wolf in the clan.

  “Why does Marwanis have influence with Wallace?”

  “Because he’s crazy about her.”

  Decembrius immediately regretted his choice of words. Crazy about her sounded very out of place in the context of planning a war. It was accurate however. Everyone knew that the Baron’s eldest son was enamoured of Marwanis MacRinnalch. Everyone except Sarapen, who was above noticing this sort of thing.