“We won,” said Dominil, and swayed unsteadily. “Take care of Kalix.”
Delicious surveyed the wreckage.
“For a first gig, that wasn’t bad,” she said.
“You’re right,” agreed Beauty. “Yum Yum Sugary Snacks are really going places.”
Dominil ushered the twins out. Gawain was no longer in the room, though no one had noticed him leave. The Enchantress vanished, leaving Daniel and Moonglow alone with Kalix.
“Are you hurt?”
Kalix didn’t acknowledge them. Vex appeared from behind the remains of a speaker stack.
“She’s okay. She had a bit of a shock. Somebody probably said something tactless. You know how over-sensitive she is.”
They led Kalix towards the door.
“Perhaps you should change back to human?” suggested Moonglow. “We’re going outside now.”
Kalix didn’t change. She didn’t reply. She seemed to have been shocked beyond worlds.
“So what have you been arguing about?” asked Vex.
Daniel and Moonglow looked at her, both puzzled.
“I’ve been practising my auras,” explained Vex.
Daniel and Moonglow trudged down the stairs, shepherding Kalix along. Vex hopped along behind, talking excitedly about the nights events. Daniel and Moonglow were silent. They hadn’t yet made up their argument. As they turned the corner of the narrow stairs they came to an abrupt halt. Standing there was a man whose brawny frame almost filled the staircase. It was Mr Mikulanec. He hadn’t died at the warehouse, and he’d not been completely baffled by Thrix and Malveria’s spells. He had too much experience of werewolf hunting to be put off forever.
“The werewolf princess,” he said, observing Kalix. “I’ve been looking for you for some time.”
Mikulanec took out his knife, and spoke the words to make it glow.
227
Eskandor MacRinnalch rode into Baron MacGregor’s camp while the Baron was conferring with Baron MacAllister, Euan MacPhee, and Red Ruraich MacAndris. They were debating what to do in the aftermath of Wallace’s defeat by Markus. The MacAllisters, MacPhees and MacAndrises all wanted to press ahead with the assault on the castle but Baron MacGregor insisted that after asking for his son’s life to be spared, he could no longer continue with hostilities. They could reach no agreement, but as young Baron MacAllister pointed out, it made little difference. When Sarapen arrived he’d lead them against the castle, with or without the MacGregors.
Eskandor MacRinnalch was a respected member of the MacRinnalch Clan and was greeted courteously by the Barons. He politely accepted the proffered whisky, and sipped from the goblet.
“What brings you riding through the snow to our camp?”
“A message from the Mistress of the Werewolves. Sarapen MacRinnalch is dead. The Mistress invites you to a meeting of the Great Council, to continue with the business of choosing a new Thane.”
The Barons gaped.
“Sarapen? Dead?”
“He was killed last night in London, in battle.”
“You mean Verasa had him murdered?” roared Douglas MacAllister.
Eskandor MacRinnalch shook his head.
“He was not murdered. He died while carrying out an assault on an event at which members of the Great Council were present.”
As Eskandor made his way back to Castle MacRinnalch, the Barons called for their lieutenants, instructing them to contact London immediately, and find out if the report was true.
228
As Mikulanec brandished the Begravar knife, his eyes glinted with cruel pleasure. He knew that Kalix could not stand against it. Kalix abruptly changed from werewolf to human. Blood trickled from her mouth where Sarapen had torn her flesh. Her face was deathly pale and there was no life in her eyes.
“Can you feel the knife, werewolf?” said Mr Mikulanec. He took a step forward. Daniel instinctively tried to block his way but the hunter was far too strong. He grabbed Daniel’s shoulder and pushed him down the stairs. Then he raised the knife till it was inches away from Kalix’s face.
“Are you ready to die?” he said.
Kalix gazed at the knife.
“Yes,” she said, softly. “I’m ready to die. But you’re not going to kill me.”
Mr Mikulanec frowned. The werewolf should be showing signs of confusion. Kalix did not seem to be confused. When he next spoke, there was the slightest tinge of doubt in his voice.
“Do you feel the knife’s power?”
“No.”
“How can you not feel it?” demanded Mikulanec.
Kalix shrugged.
“I suppose I’m just too crazy.”
With that Kalix transformed back into werewolf shape, and grabbed the hunter’s wrist. She dragged Mikulanec’s bulky frame up the stairs towards her then fastened her jaws around his neck, moving so swiftly that the hunter had no time to react. Kalix broke his neck with one bite, and let his body slide to the ground. Mr Mikulanec, who had hunted and killed werewolves all over Europe, had finally been defeated.
Daniel picked himself up and hobbled back up the stairs. Moonglow sagged.
“I’m going to be sick,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”
229
The Enchantress did not have the strength to lavish much attention on the MacRinnalch guard. She was in too much pain herself. She did at least make sure he’d live, boosting his energy and preventing any further loss of blood. He’d wake up battered and bruised, but on the way to recovery.
Thrix was anxious about Malveria’s clothes. Could Princess Kabachetka really have located them? Thrix fervently hoped that she hadn’t. Despite her weariness, she planned to return to Moonglow’s flat to find out. Kalix would be there, and Kalix now knew about Thrix’s entanglement with Gawain. The Enchantress anticipated more trouble, but didn’t really care. If her young sister felt like making trouble the Enchantress was quite capable of defending herself.
Thrix rarely teleported, not being as gifted at this as Malveria, but now she muttered the appropriate spell to transport herself. The void through which she travelled seemed cold and hostile, and she shivered as she stepped out into the street in Kennington. A cab was drawing up. Daniel, Moonglow, Kalix and Vex emerged. No one spoke. Thrix looked suspiciously at Kalix but the young werewolf hardly seemed to notice her. She was hidden behind her dark glasses, and staring at the ground. Moonglow fumbled with her keys, opened the door and they all trooped up the stairs, in darkness.
“Is that sobbing?” asked Daniel, as they reached the top.
The Fire Queen was huddled on the couch in the living room, and sobbing did not do justice to the depths of her grief. Not only her face was wet, but her blouse too, where tears mingled with the blood that still caked her clothes. The couch showed some signs of singeing, as if Malveria had flared up in grief, but the flames were now gone, drowned in her tears. Thrix went to her side and placed her hand on her arm. The Fire Queen looked up.
“They’re all gone,” she gasped.
“All of them?”
“Burned,” moaned Malveria, and was too grief-stricken to say any more. The Enchantress withdrew and hurried upstairs to the loft. Inside there was nothing left. The walls were scorched and the clothes rails were empty. Princess Kabachetka had destroyed all of the Queen’s garments. Thrix’s work had been for nothing. The Enchantress picked up the charred remnants of an empty hat box, and fought back the tears. She loved the clothes she made. It was more than a commercial enterprise. She could have killed the Princess for doing this.
Thrix remembered how Malveria had recently come to her aid. Feeling that it was her duty to comfort her friend in her hour of grief, she left the attic, though her heart was so heavy, and Malveria’s grief so great, that she didn’t know what she could possibly say to make things better.
Daniel and Moonglow were sitting in silence. Moonglow was very pale. The sight of Kalix killing Mikulanec had made her sick. It was something she wished she hadn’t seen. Kalix had disappeared to
her room. Only Vex was animated. The excitement of the gig had not worn off and she was still eager to share it with everyone. Oblivious to the gloom that pervaded the flat, she burbled on about her favourite songs from the evening. Eventually Malveria raised her head.
“Please, Agrivex. For once in your life, be quiet.”
Moonglow went off to Kalix’s room to see how she was. She feared that she young werewolf might now be cutting her own arm, as if she didn’t have enough injuries already. The Enchantress arrived downstairs and put her arm round Malveria.
“I’ll design you the most fabulous outfits for the next occasion,” she said.
“There will be no next occasion,” sobbed Malveria. “I am ruined. I can never leave my palace again.”
Moonglow found Kalix asleep, still wrapped in her coat. The room smelled heavily of laudanum. Moonglow removed Kalix’s sunglasses and boots, and drew the quilt over her. Then, as she looked round, she saw something which made her smile. She hurried back to the front room where Daniel was helping Malveria lift a small cup of tea to her lips.
“Your clothes are in Kalix’s room,” said Moonglow. “They’re all lying on the floor.”
The Queen’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Kalix has my clothes? This does not seem likely.”
Moonglow and the Enchantress turned their eyes on Vex.
“Well, you know what Kalix is like,” said Vex. “Always taking things that don’t belong to her.”
Malveria rose imperiously to her full height.
“Miserable niece, this is your doing! How many of my clothes are there?”
“How would I know?” protested Vex. “I never went near them. Maybe a few outfits. Kalix made me do it.”
By this time Malveria was hurrying through to Kalix’s room, closely pursued by the Enchantress. When they got there they found the whole room strewn with dresses, shoes, hats, coats and accessories.
“What has my idiot niece been doing?” cried Malveria, sifting frantically through the crumpled garments.
“Stand back,” said Thrix, raising her arm. The Enchantress was a master of all clothes magic, and swiftly cast a spell separating each garment from the others and arranging them into their proper outfits.
“Most of it’s here,” said the Enchantress. “Vex must have been trying them on and not bothered to put them back.”
Malveria levitated several inches off the floor.
“It’s a miracle. But they are so creased and wrinkled…”
“Don’t worry,” said Thrix. “I can fix it.”
“Excellent,” replied Malveria, who now seemed rejuvenated. “While you do that, I am going to kill Agrivex.”
Malveria floated swiftly back into the living room, grabbed Vex by the throat and lifted her off the floor.
“Most miserable of never-to-be-adopted nieces! Even in the murky history of your past crimes, there is nothing to compare with this. You must die. The volcano awaits.”
“Stop!” cried Moonglow.
Malveria looked at her politely.
“Yes?”
“You can’t kill Vex.”
“Whyever not?”
“She saved your clothes.”
“It’s true,” said Thrix, returning to the room. “If she hadn’t moved them all, they’d have been destroyed by Kabachetka’s spell.”
“Exactly,” cried Vex, squirming free of the Queen’s grasp. “Which is the important point. I cunningly saved your clothes.”
“You did not cunningly save my clothes!”
“I did so! I knew they weren’t safe in the attic. I was protecting them. I should get a reward. New boots, maybe.”
“Pah!” snapped Malveria. “I shall deal with you later. In a harsh manner. Enchantress, what may be saved from the wreckage?”
“Most of it, I think.”
The Enchantress was surrounded by a carousel of floating clothes, and was busily checking each outfit.
“Most of your formal attire is here, and everything for the next two days. There are some things missing for day four, but the ball gown is undamaged. I can replace the missing clothes before you need them.”
“It is truly the most wonderful outcome!” exclaimed Malveria, still several inches off the ground. “Still I am the mistress of fashion. How Kabachetka will grieve when I appear - late, but not intolerably so - at Livia’s celebration, in the full glory of my new attire.”
The Enchantress pursed her lips.
“Except for one thing.”
“What thing could that be?”
“Your best formal coat. For your entrance. You’re wearing it. Or what’s left of it.”
Malveria looked down at her coat. It was ripped in six places and covered in blood. She descended to ground level, walked over to the couch, and buried her face in a cushion.
“Couldn’t you magic it better?” suggested Moonglow. The Enchantress shook her head. Fine tailoring was all-important. Only last week at Malveria’s palace, Beau DeMortalis had discarded a very good topcoat which had suffered the slightest of mishaps, no more than a tiny scratch from a thorn bush.
“One cannot go around with magically repaired clothes,” he’d said. “Like a common labourer.”
Malveria’s coat was ruined. Not only that, the Queen had kicked off her shoes before the fight began, and left them in Camden. Thrix frantically tried to come up with an idea.
“Perhaps I could find something at the warehouse?” she suggested.
“Ready made?” gasped Malveria, and began to weep.
“Does it need to be formal?” asked Daniel.
“Very. It is the most formal of formal entrances.”
“Oh. That’s a pity. Otherwise, what with the blood and everything, you could have made your entrance as Triumphant Warrior Queen.”
“Please do not babble,” said Malveria. “I have suffered enough from Agrivex.”
“But wouldn’t just having come back from combat sort of transcend fashion?”
“Nothing transcends fashion.”
“Well it might be seen as fashion pretending to transcend fashion,” suggested Daniel, who had for some reason been paying attention during his post-modern cultural identity lecture last week. “Act as if you meant to go there wearing a ripped coat.”
Thrix was not so dismissive of Daniel’s idea.
“It’s worth considering. Pretend you’ve chosen to arrive this way. Get in your coach wearing your blood stained coat and carrying your mace, and arrive as if you’re saying, Here is Malveria, triumphant warrior queen, deliberately dressed in the wreckage of her formal outfit, which is still more glorious than the clothes you’re wearing.”
Malveria wrinkled her brow.
“It is a risky strategy in the face of Beau DeMortalis and his merciless set-downs.”
She mused for a few moments.
“It might be possible. No one else could carry it off, certainly. But I am a triumphant warrior queen, am I not?”
“You were fabulous in battle,” said Thrix, reassuringly.
Malveria looked down at her torn coat with dissatisfaction.
“But the rips are all wrong. They do not match. And the blood stains are very poorly arranged.” She rose, rather nimbly. “Come, dearest Enchantress, you must help me bring some order to this chaos.”
Malveria kissed Daniel on the cheek, to thank him for his suggestion. He blushed, as he always did. Malveria laughed, then headed for the attic with Thrix, to re-arrange her clothing. There they set about adding to the damage in some areas to make it more aesthetically pleasing.
“We’re going to have to do something about your jewellery,” said Thrix. “The emeralds just don’t go with the blood.”
She thought for a moment.
“Do you still have the necklace Agrivex bought you?”
“The unpleasant trinket featuring axes? Not suitable, surely?”
“Do you have it?”
Malveria brought it out from her bag.
“It a
ppears to be still with me, by coincidence.”
Thrix fastened it round Malveria’s neck. The Fire Queen nodded. It would do.
“It was cunning of the Princess to construct such a powerful spell,” said Malveria. “But have you wondered how she located the clothes? She must have received information.”
“From who?”
“I regret to say this, but I can see traces of the vile Kabachetka’s aura on Moonglow.”
“That’s because she encountered Kabachetka outside the gig.”
Malveria was dubious. Though the traces were faint and very difficult to interpret, she believed that Moonglow may have met the Princess on more than one occasion.
“Surely you’d have noticed it earlier?” said Thrix.
“If they did meet before, Kabachetka herself may have taken care to remove all traces from the girl.”
The Enchantress found it hard to believe that Moonglow would have betrayed the Fire Queen. It would have been out of character.
“Moonglow has been out of character in recent days,” pointed out the Fire Queen.
Downstairs, Daniel and Moonglow were sitting next to each other on the couch.
“Do you still feel sick?” asked Daniel.
Moonglow nodded. Daniel put his arm round her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. They sat in front of the TV, and let the trauma of the evening fade away.
230
Two nights had passed since Markus’s fight with Wallace MacGregor. With the moon large in the sky, the MacRinnalchs in the castle had revelled as werewolves. News had spread that Sarapen was dead. The besieging forces had not withdrawn but no one now feared an attack; the war was surely over. The Mistress of the Werewolves called a meeting of the Great Council for the night after the full moon and the inhabitants of the castle waited eagerly to see which members of the council would arrive.
There was a wave of excitement when Dominil, Beauty and Delicious walked through the castle gates. Dominil was a familiar figure but the werewolves welcomed her back with increased respect. The story of her part in the battle in London was already well known. Dominil had never been well liked at the castle. Her manner made it difficult to warm to her. However, no werewolf from either side of the dispute could fail to show her respect after her endeavours.
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