The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf

by Martin Millar

  Vex poured milk on her cereal and covered it with sugar. “Maybe I should take on a difficult challenge. Like finding a girlfriend for Daniel.”

  Vex stopped. She noticed that both Kalix and Moonglow were looking uncomfortable.

  “Why are you looking weird? OK, Daniel would be difficult, but—”

  “Good morning, Agrivex.”

  Vex turned around. The Fire Queen was standing in the kitchen doorway. Both Moonglow and Kalix sensed that she was not in the best of moods.

  “Morning, Aunt Malvie. I’ve just been helping Kalix get a boyfriend.”

  Vex dug her spoon into the cereal bowl and didn’t notice a tiny flicker of flame emerging from her aunt’s eye. Kalix and Moonglow began edging their way out of the kitchen.

  “You’ve been helping Kalix find a boyfriend, have you, most adorable niece?” purred Malveria.

  Vex nodded.

  “Something you have a talent for?”

  “It looks like it.”

  “How splendid. Do you have enough cereal in that bowl?”

  “I think so, Aunty.”

  “More sugar?”

  “Maybe a little,” said Vex, who liked a lot of sugar on her cereal.

  The Fire Queen graciously picked up the sugar bowl and sprinkled some on Vex’s cereal.

  “Thanks, Aunty.”

  Kalix and Moonglow had by now managed to wriggle their way out of the tiny kitchen and stood hesitantly at the door to the living room, not quite certain whether to stay or flee.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” the Fire Queen asked her niece. “I have been thinking I owe you a favor, Agrivex.”

  “Have you?” Vex looked pleased. “I’ve been thinking the same, now that you mention it. What with me doing so well at college and then helping Kalix and generally making a big success of everything.”

  “Yes,” said Malveria. “You have made a great success of everything. You have managed to do what seven armies, four hostile nations, several dragons and an invasion of Stone Dwarves failed to do.”

  Vex looked puzzled. “Uh . . . what was that?”

  “You have managed to drive me out of my palace, you imbecile!” roared the Fire Queen. She slammed her fist on the counter, breaking it in two.

  “Not again,” sighed Moonglow from the safety of the hallway.

  “Thanks to you, dismal, abominable, dreadful niece, whom I should have sacrificed at birth, I have been put to flight by a horde of slavering suitors comprising every unmarried duke, earl and lord in the country. What were you thinking? Answer at once, Agrivex, or face a swift trip to the Great Volcano, which is primed and ready to receive you.”

  “Hey!” protested Agrivex. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You most certainly do! For weeks I have been beset with suitors on all sides and I have finally realized that you are responsible.”

  Agrivex looked defiant. “It had nothing to do with me.”

  “I know you are lying!”

  “I am not! I might have mentioned to the Honorable Gloria that you used to be keen on Lord Stratov, but that’s all.”

  “You said that to the Honorable Gloria?” yelled the Fire Queen. “How dare you! I was never keen on the man, he is a profound bore! What did you say to the family of Duke Garfire?”

  “Absolutely nothing. If he thinks you called him handsome and attractive it didn’t come from me.”

  “I have never called Duke Garfire handsome and attractive!”

  “I’m sure I heard you mention it one time,” said Vex. “But I didn’t say it anyway.”

  “Stop making up this nonsense!” The Fire Queen glared at her niece with loathing. “And the Earl of Flamineau? Can you account for his sudden interest in the Royal Personage?”

  “I completely deny everything,” said Vex.

  “Do I have to keep reminding you that I can read your aura, dismal niece? Guilt is written all over you. Do you realize the damage you have inflicted on my status as ruler? The entire country is awash with gossip that the Fire Queen is begging for a date!”

  “Really, I’m sure you’re overreacting.”

  Kalix and Moonglow winced as they heard another piece of kitchen furniture disintegrate under the Queen’s fury.

  “We’ll have no furniture left,” said Moonglow mournfully.

  Vex looked at the kitchen cabinet lying in splinters at her feet. “This isn’t very polite to Moonglow and Daniel, you know. You’ve really got to control yourself when you visit.”

  The Fire Queen gasped, temporarily rendered speechless by the effrontery of this.

  “Anyway,” said Vex. “Isn’t it time you got married? Xakthan’s always saying it.”

  The Fire Queen held up her hand. “Enough, vile niece. I will hear no more stupidity from you. Have you made progress with your fire, as I instructed?”

  Vex looked uncomfortable.

  “Have you been preparing for your next year at college?” demanded Malveria.

  “Well . . .”

  “No, you have not!” roared the Queen. “Instead you have been wasting time with your so-called boyfriend.”

  “He’s so nice,” said Vex. “Would you like to meet him?”

  “No, I would not. I am not a great admirer of itinerant musicians.”

  Agrivex looked annoyed. “He’s a great guitarist!”

  “Highly unlikely,” said the Queen witheringly. “Given the intoxicated incompetence of his band. No doubt his conversation is of an equally low standard.”

  “You’re being really mean!” cried Vex.

  “There is nothing mean about the Queen of the Hiyasta requiring her niece to gain a basic competence in the ways of the Hiyasta,” thundered Malveria. “Your inability to produce flames is the talk of the servants’ quarters. My reputation is currently being destroyed by your ineptitude.” The Fire Queen leaned forward. “When I was your age I was already laying waste to my enemies with my fire. I am losing patience with you, wretched girl. You are to spend less time with your boyfriend and more time practicing.”

  “I won’t.”

  Malveria’s face began to glow. “Agrivex. You will do as I say.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  The Fire Queen and her niece glared at each other.

  “I will give you till the end of the month to improve your fire powers,” said the Queen. “If by then you cannot produce a steady stream of flames from your fingers, I shall send you to a fire tutor.”

  Vex’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “You heard me. You will go for tutoring on the slopes of the Great Volcano with Arch-wizard Krathrank.”

  Agrivex was aghast. “Arch-wizard Krabby? He’s ten thousand years old!”

  “Do not exaggerate. He is three thousand at most. And do not call him Arch-wizard Krabby, it’s disrespectful. He runs a harsh and disciplined school; it will do you good.”

  Vex stamped her foot on the ground, making the floorboards vibrate. “I’m not going to study with old Krabby. I won’t be able to see Pete.”

  Malveria smiled, rather cruelly. “So it would appear.”

  “You’re destroying my relationship!”

  “Again, so it would appear.”

  “I hate you!” cried Agrivex.

  “Nonetheless, that is my decision. Learn to control your fire, if you wish to avoid an extended period under the stern regime of Arch-wizard Krathrank.”

  The Fire Queen swept through to the living room, her expression still thunderous. Seeing Moonglow and Kalix, she made an effort to rein in her temper.

  “Moonglow. You may possibly have heard a slight altercation. I apologize for some unfortunate breakages.” Malveria produced a soft leather purse, apparently plucking it from thin air. She handed it to Moonglow. “This gold should cover the damage.”

  With that the Fire Queen vanished, dematerializing in an angry orange swirl.

  Moonglow loosened the drawstring and peered into the purse. “Do kitchen repairers take g
old as payment?”

  Vex appeared in the living room. “I’m not going to study at old Krabby’s place,” she declared loudly. “It’s a like a prison camp.”

  “Maybe you should just learn to make fire like your aunt wants,” suggested Moonglow. “Is it difficult?”

  Vex pointed her index finger toward the fireplace. Her face took on a strained expression. Nothing happened. “Quite difficult,” she said.

  “I think your finger’s gone a little orange,” said Kalix.

  “That’s a start,” said Moonglow encouragingly.

  Vex shrugged. “I don’t care. Who wants to make fire anyway?”

  Vex disappeared upstairs, humming loudly, apparently unconcerned. Neither Moonglow nor Kalix were quite as relaxed.

  “I can see this ending badly,” said Kalix.

  Moonglow nodded. “I’ll start phoning up people about the kitchen.”

  CHAPTER 63

  Employees at the Avenaris Guild often worked irregular hours. On those days their hours coincided, Mr. Carmichael and his son John would usually visit the wine bar at the end of the street after work, sharing a bottle of wine before going their separate ways. Mr. Carmichael lived in the center of the city and could walk home. His son John lived farther out, in Primrose Hill, and commuted by tube.

  At forty-one, John was the eldest of Mr. Carmichael’s four sons. He’d been a good hunter. Though Mr. Carmichael had been proud of him for that, he’d been relieved when John retired from hunting to take an administrative job. Fighting werewolves had a high mortality rate. None of his other sons was involved with the Guild, though the two closest to John’s age were aware of the nature of their father’s business.

  Sitting in the wine bar, they kept their voices low as they discussed Guild affairs. John thought that Group Sixteen might be the best team of hunters they’d ever had. Mr. Carmichael was cautious.

  “We’ll have to wait and see. A lot of hunters start off well.”

  “They’ve disposed of Minerva MacRinnalch and three Douglas-MacPhees,” said his son. “That’s quite a start. They’re looking for a new target.”

  “Not yet,” said Mr. Carmichael.

  “They need more training. ”They think they’ve done enough.”

  Mr. Carmichael smiled rather coldly. “They don’t realize what some of these MacRinnalchs are like. They think they know it all just because they shot an elderly woman and three outcasts?”

  Mr. Carmichael sipped from his glass. The wine bar was full of city workers in suits, talking business and sending emails on their phones.

  “Wait till they meet someone like Kalix.”

  John nodded. He knew as well as his father what Kalix MacRinnalch was capable of. “Still no sign of her. We’ve had scouts all around Kennington where she was last reported, but there’s never any trace.”

  “What about Merchant MacDoig?”

  “He claims not to have seen her. But he says whatever’s convenient for him to say, you know that.”

  Mr. Carmichael nodded. He’d been acquainted with Merchant MacDoig for a long time. He was aware of his untrustworthy nature.

  “I was up there last week,” continued John. “Perhaps we should keep watch on his shop. There’s bound to be werewolf activity there at some point.”

  “It’s difficult,” replied his father. “It takes up a lot of man-hours, watching somewhere twenty-four hours a day. We still don’t have the staff.”

  “I saw Manny when I was there.”

  Mr. Carmichael looked alarmed. “What do you mean you saw Manny? At the Merchant’s?”

  “Of course not. He was just in the area, doing his bike courier work, so I asked him to bring me a sandwich.”

  Mr. Carmichael still looked troubled. “Don’t do that. You shouldn’t have any contact with Manny while you’re on duty.”

  “Relax, it was only a sandwich, I didn’t ask him to start hunting.”

  “Don’t even joke about it, John, it makes me uncomfortable.”

  Mr. Carmichael’s son Manny was the baby of the family. He knew nothing of the Avenaris Guild, or werewolves. Mr. Carmichael hoped he never did. “I dread to think of Manny ever becoming involved.”

  “I know,” said John.

  “I was pleased when he turned out to be the artist in the family. It will keep him out of trouble.”

  Mr. Carmichael’s eldest son almost laughed. At one time, his father wouldn’t have admitted he was pleased to have an artist for a son. But Manny was indulged in a way his three elder brothers had never been. He was much younger than his siblings, and his mother had died soon after he was born.

  “Are you going to his show at college next week?” asked John.

  Mr. Carmichael sighed. His pleasure at his son’s line of work didn’t extend to visiting his art shows more often than he had to. “I might. I missed the last one. But the sort of places he exhibits his paintings . . .”

  “This one’s at his college. A proper gallery. I promised I’d go.”

  “Well, I may show up,” said Mr. Carmichael. “But really, does any twenty-year-old student actually want his father turning up? I’d probably just embarrass him in front of his friends.”

  Their conversation turned back to the MacRinnalchs, Group Sixteen, the state of the Guild and whether anything might come of Princess Kabachetka’s grand promises to assist them.

  CHAPTER 64

  The Fire Queen was in a thoroughly bad temper as she hovered between dimensions. She had been abandoned by Thrix, oppressed by suitors, humiliated by Kabachetka and insulted by Agrivex.

  How did my once-splendid life come to this sorry ruin? she thought. I am forced to hide in shame in a small room in London, and even there I have no peace while Agrivex is around. Meanwhile, Empress Kabachetka is bragging about her photograph in Vogue to anyone who will listen. It is all so unfair I could simply cry.

  The Fire Queen drifted slowly through space.

  “Who is responsible?” she said out loud, though her words sounded twisted and eerie in the void between the dimensions. “Thrix MacRinnalch, of course. Without the new outfit she promised me, I was unable to attend the fashion reception. If I had, Kabachetka would never have got her picture in Vogue. I would have outshone her, and they would have photographed me. Devastated by this, I have been unable to resist these dreadful dukes. It is no wonder I became ill and was forced to seek refuge with Moonglow.”

  The Fire Queen’s lips compressed tightly together. I have been too lenient in this matter, she told herself. Simply breaking contact with the Enchantress was not enough. There must be a reckoning.

  The Fire Queen slipped back into the earthly dimension and headed down a familiar path. Remembering that Thrix had recently increased her sorcerous security, Malveria did not attempt to materialize inside her flat. Instead, she entered the block and approached her door from the outside. The Fire Queen halted, examining the space around her.

  “Thrix is home. I can feel her. And I can feel her new spells, protecting the apartment. But I am not just a sorcerer like you, Enchantress. I am the all-powerful Queen of the Hiyasta!”

  The Fire Queen struck the door a great, flaming blow with her forearm and it buckled inwards. Malveria marched in triumphantly.

  “Enchantress!” she cried. “I am here to make you account for your treachery, perfidious behavior and failure to provide me with a summer frock as promised. What do you have to say for yourself, cursèd werewolf?”

  Malveria stood in the smoldering doorway, arms raised to cast spells and deal destruction. Thrix was in the room, lying on her couch.

  “Well?” demanded Malveria.

  Thrix didn’t look up. She lay with her head half hidden by a fashionable jacket, which, rather shockingly, she was using as a pillow. Malveria felt a little foolish, waving her arms in the air. She lowered them and marched over to the couch in a fury.

  “I demand you look at me, wretched Enchantress, and prepare to pay for your numerous crimes!”

  Thr
ix raised her head and gazed blankly at the Fire Queen. Malveria yelled and took a step back. “Thrix, what have you done?”

  Thrix had cropped off her hair, very roughly. It was short and jagged, clipped hurriedly and carelessly with scissors. The Fire Queen was horrified. Adding to her horror was the sight of Thrix’s long golden tresses stuffed into a plastic carrier bag on the floor. Nothing could have affected the Fire Queen more. Thrix had obviously gone insane. Malveria’s anger instantly disappeared, to be replaced with distress for her friend.

  “Thrix, what has happened?” she cried, and knelt down beside her friend. “Speak to me.”

  There was a vacant expression on Thrix’s face. “I can’t do it,” she mumbled.

  “Can’t do it? Do what? What has happened? Have you been attacked with spells of madness?”

  Malveria studied Thrix’s aura. She had been drinking wine, but that didn’t account for the poor state she was in. She was weak, both physically and mentally, and her spirit, usually bright, was flickering unsteadily.

  “I will revive you,” cried the Fire Queen. “You must not worry about the frock outrage, you could not help it, having lost your senses!”

  Malveria placed a hand on Thrix’s forehead and another on the back of her neck, and let some of her fire flow into the Enchantress. Thrix’s cold body began to heat up. After a few minutes, she began to stir and dragged herself into a sitting position. Her physical strength was returning, but the Fire Queen still didn’t like the look of her aura. It was deranged.

  “I will bring my strongest potions. They can restore sanity even in the worst cases.”

  Thrix managed to focus her eyes on the Fire Queen. “I don’t need potions, Malveria. I haven’t gone mad. I’m just defeated.”

  “What?”

  “I’m defeated. The Guild killed my teacher and I can’t find them. I’ve tried everything I know and it’s no use. I can’t find the Guild. They’ve beaten me.”

  The Fire Queen was perplexed. She realized she might have overreacted by assuming Thrix had completely lost her senses, but when she looked at her aura, there did seem to be a touch of madness there.