Lonely Werewolf Girl

by Martin Millar

  “I need to give out more fliers,” she said.

  “I’ll help,” said Kalix.

  “Good. I appreciate your assistance.”

  Kalix was pleased. She felt important. As they inched through the congested streets in the centre of town, heading towards Lambeth Bridge, she noticed that Dominil was examining her.

  “You are thinner,” said Dominil.

  “I don’t think so,” replied Kalix.

  “You are. I can tell.”

  “I really don’t think I’m any thinner,” protested Kalix, who had in fact been feeling fat, due to eating half a pizza yesterday.

  “I have a photographic memory,” said Dominil. “You are thinner.”

  “All right,” said Kalix, and felt uncomfortable.

  “I want you to eat,” said Dominil.

  Kalix squirmed at the unexpected assault. She didn’t reply.

  “If you are to help me it’s necessary for you to be healthy,” continued Dominil. “So you’ll have to eat.”

  “Okay I’ll eat,” said Kalix, keen to bring the subject to a close.

  Dominil turned towards her.

  “I agree that you may be better off dead,” she said.

  “What?” said Kalix, startled.

  “You may be better off dead. Which I presume is your ultimate aim in starving and cutting yourself. As you are so determinedly unhappy all the time, you may be right. There is little point hanging around just to be miserable.”

  Kalix was offended and bewildered. One minute Dominil was telling her to eat, the next she was saying that she would be better off dead.

  “Make your mind up,” she snarled. “Do you want me to be dead or healthy?”

  “I want you to be healthy till the gig is over,” said Dominil, calmly. “Can you manage that?”

  “I expect so,” muttered Kalix, scowling.

  “Good. After that you can do whatever you please.”

  They drove over Lambeth Bridge into the narrower South London streets that led to Kennington. The road was busy, as it generally was, and the car crawled along.

  “There’s another reason why you should be healthy for the gig,” said Dominil. “I suspect that Sarapen may attend.”

  This got Kalix’s full attention.

  “It would be an ideal opportunity for him to attack. There will be four members of the Great Council there, five if Thrix comes.”

  “Does Sarapen even know they’re playing?” asked Kalix.

  “Decembrius is with him, and Decembrius usually learns things his master wants to know.”

  Dominil advised Kalix not to mention her suspicions to anyone. There was no point in worrying Moonglow or Daniel unnecessarily, or the twins. They drove in silence for a while. Kalix watched the rain streaming down the windshield, and was amused when they splashed some pedestrians.

  “Do you really think I might be better off dead?” she said, finally.

  “I don’t care,” replied Dominil. “As long as it’s not till after the gig.”

  Kalix scanned Dominil’s face for some trace of humour, or irony. There didn’t seem to be any.

  When they reached their destination Dominil strode into the flat. There she managed to further appal Kalix by informing Moonglow that she had made an agreement with the young werewolf.

  “Kalix agrees to eat regularly to preserve her health until the gig.”

  Kalix thought that this was stretching things. Moonglow was surprised at the news, but pleased.

  “I’ll feed her well,” she said, and smiled at Kalix. Kalix scowled. She was heartily sick of all this talk about food.

  “Have you heard anything about Markus?” asked Moonglow, unexpectedly.

  “He is back at the castle,” replied Dominil.

  “Oh,” said Moonglow, and looked sad. Dominil regarded her without emotion.

  “Make sure Kalix eats,” she said, and strode briskly from the house, ready for the next part of her campaign.

  Moonglow’s misery over Markus had not diminished. As Dominil left she began to cry. She turned to Kalix for support but Kalix was gone. Kalix couldn’t understand why Moonglow had fallen in love with her hated brother Markus, and felt very little sympathy for her. In her room Kalix sipped laudanum, and took out her journal. She painstakingly wrote an account of the day’s events at the twins’ house. After recording her efforts to help them, Kalix wrote I like Dominil. The she wrote Dominil doesn’t care if I die.

  She studied that for a while, but didn’t know what to think about it. She drew another thick line and made another entry in her poor, ill-formed handwriting. Moonglow is sad about Markus. Daniel is sad about Moonglow. Kalix is sad about Gawain.

  Kalix put the journal away and crawled under her quilt, then stared at the ceiling till the laudanum made her drowsy enough to go to sleep.

  186

  Malveria was uneasy. Today was the day she planned to be nice to Agrivex. She knew it was going to be difficult. No matter what Malveria did, her niece would inevitably say something stupid, or do something foolish, and aggravate her beyond endurance. ‘Why,’ Malveria wondered, ‘am I even making the attempt? It is doomed to failure.’ She suddenly felt annoyed at the Enchantress. It was all very well for Thrix to lecture her about being nice to her family. The werewolf was in a perpetual state of warfare with her own.

  Malveria swept through her palace, halting outside Vex’s room. She forced a smile onto her face, and knocked lightly on the door. There was no reply. She opened the door and walked in, finding herself in the midst of an astonishing mess. Malveria blanched. It was some time since she had dared venture into Agrivex’s bedroom and she’d managed to blot out the memory of quite how bad it was. There was no inch of floor space not cluttered with clothes, toys or magazines. The dressing table sagged with make-up. The walls were covered by an incredible collection of pictures stuck on top of each other so that small pieces of Vex’s favourites stared out crazily from behind each other. The only free space was the ceiling, and Malveria was startled to see that it had recently been painted silver by a very inexpert hand.

  Vex was slumbering peacefully in bed, partially covered by a huge pink quilt, her fluffy dragon beside her on the pillow. Malveria coughed loudly. Vex opened her eyes.

  “Go away,” she said. “I’m not waking up yet.”

  Malveria was prepared for this. No matter how annoying Agrivex was today, Malveria intended to remain calm. It was an almost impossible task for a fire elemental but the Queen had decided to look on it as a test of character. Surely she could force herself not to yell at her niece for one day?

  Malveria sat on the bed.

  “Wake up. Today is a special day.”

  “No it’s not,” replied Vex. “It’s another boring day in this boring palace and I’m going back to sleep.”

  “I really want you to wake up,” urged the Fire Queen.

  Agrivex scowled, then pulled her quilt over her head. Malveria was surprised. She yanked the quilt down.

  “You dare ignore me you - ” She halted herself. What was it the Enchantress had advised her to do? Take a deep breath before sacrificing your niece. She took a deep breath.

  “Young niece. Today I’m going to take you shopping.”

  Agrivex opened her eyes. She was interested, but suspicious.

  “What do you mean shopping?”

  “Buying things.”

  “What things? Boring things? Like things for lessons?”

  “No. Pleasant things. For you to wear.”

  Vex sat up. Malveria was displeased to see she was wearing Hello Kitty pyjamas. The cute little pussy cat motif was quite unsuitable for any inhabitant of the Hiyasta palace. She let it pass without comment.

  “Things for me to wear? Why? Am I being sacrificed?”

  Malveria frowned.

  “Why do you always say that?”

  “Because you’re always threatening to sacrifice me.”

  “Well today I am not. Today I’m taking you shopping
.”

  “For new boots?”

  “Possibly…” replied Malveria.

  “What do you mean possibly?”

  “I thought it might be time for you to purchase some more presentable garments than those which you currently wear,” explained Malveria. “Some garments suitable for a young lady who has the status of almost-adopted niece to the Queen.”

  Vex scowled.

  “I see. You drag me out of bed in the middle of the night to tell me I have to wear some hideous dress with a matching handbag?”

  “That is not what I mean at all,” replied Malveria. “I am intending to treat you. I thought that you would enjoy being taken to some of the more elegant costumiers in the human realm. Surely you would like to see yourself elegantly attired for once?”

  Vex turned to her fluffy dragon.

  “She wants to stuff me into some hideous dress with a matching handbag.”

  Malveria took another deep breath. Already this was going wrong.

  “Are you incapable of responding positively to this kind overture?”

  “What kind overture? I refuse to be shovelled into a lot of boring dresses from haute-couture-for-the-aged. If we’re going shopping I want to go to Camden Market.”

  “To buy foolish boots and ragged T-shirts?” demanded Malveria.

  “Yes,” replied Vex, and looked her aunt in the eye. “I want foolish boots and ragged T-shirts.”

  “I will not waste my money on such things.”

  “Fine,” said Vex. “I’m going back to sleep.”

  Agrivex wrenched the quilt from Malveria’s hand and dragged it over her head. The Fire Queen had a strong urge to call her executioner and have her niece dragged immediately to the volcano. No one else in her realm would have dared to pull a quilt over their head while the Queen was talking.

  “Go ahead, get the executioner,” said Vex from beneath the quilt, as if reading her thoughts. “My life sucks so badly I’d be pleased to be thrown into the volcano. If you wait till I’m ready to get up I’ll walk there myself.”

  The Fire Queen stood up and strode round the room several times. Given the mess on the floor, this wasn’t easy. After a few more deep breaths, she again sat on the bed, but found herself distracted by the silver ceiling. Malveria’s palace was beautifully decorated throughout but this ceiling looked as it had been painted by a blind elemental in a great hurry.

  “What happened to your ceiling?” she demanded.

  “I spray-painted it,” replied Vex, from beneath the quilt.

  “What does spray-painted mean? No, do not tell me, it will no doubt distress me further.”

  There was a silence which quickly became oppressive. Malveria pursed her lips.

  “Very well, dismal niece. We will go to this Camden market you talk of. And we will buy whatever you wish.”

  Vex exploded from under the quilt, an eager look on her face.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “And you’ll buy me whatever I want?”

  “I will.”

  “Fantastic!” cried Vex, and bounded from the bed.

  “So if you will meet me after dressing - ”

  Vex stuffed her feet into her boots and pulled a ragged denim jacket over her Hello Kitty pyjamas.

  “I’m ready!” she yelled. “Let’s go!”

  187

  With Castle MacRinnalch now under siege, the twins’ gig only ten days away, and the Sorceress Livia’s celebration fast approaching, there were now many plots and stratagems among the MacRinnalchs, their associates and their enemies. The Mistress of the Werewolves hadn’t given up on securing enough votes for Markus, and was hopeful of persuading Kurian to change sides. Sarapen offered Kurian’s son Kertal a rich reward if he would help his werewolves enter the castle, and he promised to transform Madrigal into a werewolf once he’d carried out his part in attacking the gig. Meanwhile Marwanis was at the MacGregor’s keep, working on Wallace and Lachlan. Wallace was already won over, and Lachlan found it very hard to resist.

  Thrix MacRinnalch was in the midst of a crisis. Her shoe designs were delayed in Italy due to a problem obtaining the special dyes for the leather. Every day saw an agonised correspondence between London and Italy, and the Enchantress dreaded to think what Malveria would say if her shoes were not ready in time.

  The ball gown was another problem. Normally the great ladies of Malveria’s realm would not wear clothes which had been either sorcerously made or repaired. As Malveria said, fine tailoring was everything. One could not walk around in clothes which had been botched together by a spell. To do so would be very common. However, the ball gown was different. By ancient tradition, these fabulous dresses could have a touch of magic about them. Thrix was constructing a new spell to enhance the gown but it was a difficult piece of magic, and she struggled to bring the spell, and the garment, to fruition.

  The Fire Queen herself was plotting furiously. Malveria told Thrix, quite untruthfully, that Sarapen had offered her perpetual access to the water of Colburn Wood if she would agree to end her assistance to the Enchantress. The Enchantress was obliged to report this to her mother, and Verasa in turn was forced to consider making a counter offer to Malveria, allowing her access to the water in return for her continued support. Malveria was pleased. It hadn’t been too difficult a problem to sort out, to a Queen of her astuteness.

  In the affair of Moonglow and Daniel, Malveria felt that the tide was turning in her favour. Moonglow was unhappy and vulnerable, and Daniel was becoming more attractive. To help this along, Malveria asked the Sorceress Livia, who had power over dreams, to send a dream to Alicia, showing her great happiness if she went out with Daniel. That wasn’t breaking the rules of the bargain, or if it was, it was only a minor infringement.

  Malveria promised Agrivex a speedy death if her niece ever dragged her round the whole of Camden market on a busy Saturday afternoon again. The entire affair had been very trying for Malveria. Each disreputable item of clothing that Vex purchased was like a dagger through the Queen’s heart, and she despaired as Vex enthusiastically loaded her shopping bags with endless T-shirts, boots, jeans, military clothing, psychedelic items and whatever else caught her eager eye. But though Malveria complained at length, in reality, her day had not been so bad. At one point Vex had taken her hand to lead her along, something she had never done before.

  It had been raining in Camden, adding to the Fire Queen’s discomfort. It was raining at Castle MacRinnalch too, and it was raining outside the Merchant’s shop when MacDoig opened a small portal to bring herbs, crystals and the blood of other-worldly animals into this dimension: tools which the Princess Kabachetka would need for her sorcery. It wasn’t easy to bring these things to earth and the Princess paid MacDoig well for his expert help. Princess Kabachetka was satisfied. If the Werewolf Enchantress thought she could protect her allies from Sarapen’s wrath on the night of the gig, she was in for an unpleasant surprise.

  There were other matters about which the Princess was less satisfied. For one thing, she had become unexpectedly attracted to Sarapen, yet sensed that the great werewolf would never consider any sort of dalliance. This mildly frustrated the Princess, and she wondered what she might do about it. Worse, and more pressing, neither she nor Zatek had succeeded in locating the Fire Queen’s clothes. The Princess fretted, and tried to think of a plan.

  Malveria was exhausted when she arrived back at her palace. It was raining there too, which was unusual, but despite the weather the palace had a more cheerful air. Agrivex had completely forgotten her unhappiness over Daniel and was busy dressing herself in a fantastic array of outlandish garments. All over the palace, ministers of state, handmaidens, and the staff of the royal kitchens sighed in relief as Vex’s misery dissipated, allowing them to get back to work without fear of envelopment in the grim aura of teenage Hiyasta gloom.

  188

  Dominil was waiting for Kalix in the small concourse at the top of the elevator at Camden
tube station. She leant against the wall, reading a book, ignoring the many stares from passers by. Sensing Kalix’s arrival, she looked up. Kalix glanced at the book.

  “Sulpicia,” said Dominil. “A contemporary of Tibullus. I have a bag of leaflets. Let’s get to work.”

  There were already people handing out fliers outside the tube and they had to walk some yards up the road to find a vacant position. It was cold and wet and the leafleters outside the tube station were having little success. Again however, Dominil and Kalix attracted a lot of attention. They handed out leaflets for an hour. By this time Kalix was soaked. Dominil’s long leather coat kept her dry, though her white hair hung limply over her collar. Finally Dominil announced that they’d done enough for now.

  “I am uncertain if this is beneficial or not,” she admitted to Kalix. “So many people hand out leaflets here. Does anyone ever read them?”

  She led Kalix across the road to the same pub they had visited before. At seventeen, Kalix was technically one year too young to drink alcohol in a public house, and she didn’t look any older than her real age. Younger perhaps, with her skinny frame and her pure unblemished skin. But if the barman thought anything about it, he wasn’t about to do anything which might drive away two such spectacularly beautiful women from his establishment.

  They sat in silence. Kalix toyed with her bottle of beer, scratching off the label. She shifted in her seat to avoid looking at the woman at the next table, who was very overweight, which upset her a little.

  “I ate lunch,” she said, suddenly.

  “Good,” said Dominil.

  They relapsed back into silence. Kalix drummed her fingers on the table. She wanted to ask Dominil a question, but felt embarrassed to speak.

  “If you have something to say, please say it,” said Dominil, with her customary lack of sympathy.

  “Could you speak to Gawain for me?” blurted Kalix, and winced, waiting for a crushing retort from the white-haired werewolf.