The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf

by Martin Millar

  “We’ll know tomorrow, when I work the Fairy Queen’s spell. For a while I thought she wasn’t going to help me.”

  “Why not?” asked Dominil. “You’ve known her a long time.”

  “I haven’t paid her enough attention. She doesn’t like that.”

  Thrix picked up her glass. “To the Forests of the Werewolf Dead.”

  “To the Forests of the Werewolf Dead,” echoed Dominil. They drank their wine, and carried on with their planning.

  Kalix looked down at her small salad. She knew she couldn’t eat it. Manny was eating a vegetable lasagna, one of the specials on the café’s menu. Manny was cheerful, pleased with his new paint and pleased to see Kalix.

  “I wish I’d seen you modeling!” he enthused. “You must have been a great model.”

  “I was probably no good,” mumbled Kalix.

  Manny leaned over and touched her hand. “Of course you were good. You’ll probably get more offers.”

  Kalix managed a weak smile. “Someone else did ask me to model for them.”

  “You see?” Manny looked delighted. “You’re so pretty. Who wouldn’t want you modeling for them?”

  Kalix came to a sudden decision. She had to tell Manny the truth. With Manny touching her hand, and smiling, and being funny and encouraging, she thought she sensed a faint ray of optimism. It would be unpleasant, but perhaps it wouldn’t completely ruin everything. Manny might understand.

  “So what else happened at the ball?” he asked.

  “A clothes auction, and then a lot of people dancing.”

  “What were the debutantes like?”

  Kalix admitted she didn’t really know. She hadn’t talked to any of them. She leaned forward. “I have to tell you something.”

  Manny grinned. “Yes?”

  “After the ball I slept with my old boyfriend. I wish I hadn’t done it. I’m sorry.”

  Kalix had never seen anyone’s expression change so quickly. Manny’s grin disappeared to be replaced by an expression of anguish. Tears appeared in his eyes. “What?”

  “I didn’t mean it to happen. I thought I should tell you. I’m sorry.”

  The tears began rolling down Manny’s cheeks. He looked young and vulnerable, more like a schoolboy than a student. He stood up. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said.

  A few other diners looked round with interest.

  “Don’t ever talk to me again!” said Manny, and then ran out of the café.

  Kalix sat where she was, staring at the table. She could sense everyone looking at her. She looked at her uneaten salad and Manny’s vegetable lasagna. She felt frozen, incapable of movement. She couldn’t even lift her head. She sat quite still for a long time. Manny’s reaction had been worse than she’d feared. She’d thought he’d abuse her, and she’d take the abuse, and maybe manage to make it all right afterward. She hadn’t thought he’d just burst into tears and run out the café.

  Kalix wanted to leave but didn’t think she had the strength. She was still frozen. Her mind went blank for a moment or two, then an image of Dominil came to her.

  I wonder if she’s found the Guild’s headquarters? Kalix imagined herself running into the building as a werewolf, tearing and rending hunters, killing them in droves before they finally shot her. She looked down at her chest, and imagined a silver bullet piercing her heart.

  That’s what’s going to happen, she thought. She was quite certain of it. That’s what my whole life’s been about. I kill the hunters and they kill me.

  Kalix nodded. She found herself looking forward to the attack, and hoping it would be soon.

  CHAPTER 118

  “I’m sure this will cause a terrible scandal,” said the Fire Queen. “Whatever induced my abominable niece to invite Beau DeMortalis to my private wing? Iskiline, has there been much talk among the servants?”

  “They talk of nothing else,” said Iskiline.

  “We must make sure we give them no more to gossip about. The visit is merely an indication that the Duke is now in good standing in the nation. There shall be none of the drunken revelry, gambling, wenching or dueling with which the Duke is regrettably associated. I’ve instructed my chief steward to lay on a very simple repast. We will dine lightly, in a civilized manner, with polite conversation.”

  The Duke of the Black Castle arrived exactly on time, which pleased the Queen, though she made him wait for half an hour while she finalized her makeup.

  “You’re looking well, DeMortalis.”

  It was true. The Duke was looking well. He’d put on his best dark-blue topcoat, the cut and color of which had been copied by aristocrats all over the realm. Beau DeMortalis was a leader of fashion. Less flamboyant than the Queen, but elegant, and precise in his attention to detail. He was handsome too, with thick dark hair and warm brown eyes.

  “How is the Black Castle,” asked the Queen, referring to the Duke’s ancestral home.

  “Ugly as ever.”

  The Fire Queen laughed. “It is a remarkably ugly building. But functional of course, as a castle.”

  The Fire Queen spoke to her chief steward. “Is Gargamond here? Excellent.”

  Malveria had invited the Duchess to join them. The Queen, while prepared to receive the Duke in her private wing, was not prepared to dine alone with him. That really would have caused a scandal.

  “I hope you are in good form tonight, DeMortalis,” said the Fire Queen, “With wit and pleasantries. I could do with relief from weighty matters.”

  “Affairs of state?”

  “No, werewolves.”

  “Ah.”

  “From your aura, Duke, you do not approve of werewolves.”

  “The MacRinnalchs are historical enemies, mighty Queen.”

  “Please, you sound like Xakthan. You know perfectly well you were enamored of Thrix MacRinnalch when she visited. One wondered if the compliments on her blonde hair would ever end.”

  “The werewolf Enchantress has a certain allure. And she has dressed Your Majesty beautifully. But the others . . .”

  “The others are engaged in a war. I have become involved in this war because Kabachetka is supporting their enemies. I cannot let her kill my clothes designer. Tell me DeMortalis, have you encountered Dominil MacRinnalch?”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “You would remember if you had. I admire her intellect. And her looks, though she takes little enough care of them.”

  Dominil had been much on the Fire Queen’s mind. She had talked to First Minister Xakthan, and to her intelligence minister, ordering them to attempt to contact an unknown werewolf in the Empress Kabachetka’s palace.

  “But Dominil is cold and superior,” continued Malveria to the Duke. “She requires a great favor from me, and I am therefore entitled to ask a price. I may take her down a peg or two.”

  The Fire Queen smiled. “I will ask for something very troublesome, I assure you. Ah, Gargamond, how pleasant to see you. Without your brother.”

  Duchess Gargamond’s suggestion that she invite her brother, Duke Garfire, to the meal, had been quickly squashed by the Queen.

  “We are dining in the Azure Suite,” the Fire Queen informed her guests. “One of my smaller chambers. But you may find us boring, DeMortalis, I have no entertainment planned. I know you favor banqueting to the accompaniment of music and dance, but we have a simpler life here at the palace. If you are expecting your usual fare of raucous debauchery, you will be disappointed.”

  CHAPTER 119

  Thrix visited her office for the first time in a week. “I can’t stay long,” she told Ann. “Just picking up mail. Any problems?”

  “There are problems everywhere,” said her assistant. “I’ve been calling you all week.”

  “Sorry, I’m still busy.”

  “Why don’t you just sell the place if you don’t want to run it any more?” Ann’s customary good humor had vanished under the strain of keeping the fashion house going.

  “Stop being dramat
ic,” retorted Thrix. “You can cope.”

  “No, I can’t. And I’m not being paid to.”

  “So I’ll pay you more,” said Thrix curtly. She swept out of her office, leaving an angry assistant behind her.

  Thrix put on her sunglasses as she left her building. The late summer sun wasn’t that powerful but Thrix was feeling delicate. Her eyes were red and she looked tired. She glanced at her watch. Late again. Dominil will complain.

  Thrix had been spending a lot of time with Dominil and it was starting to grate. Dominil was not Thrix’s idea of an ideal companion.

  It’s lucky we’re both werewolves or we’d have nothing to talk about.

  Thrix had not quite forgiven her for her role in Minerva’s death, though she did appreciate that without Dominil they wouldn’t now be on the verge of discovering the Guild.

  “If she’s wearing that same pair of black boots today I think I’ll scream. Doesn’t she ever change them? I’m fed up with her coat too.”

  Thrix walked west along Great Marlborough Street, crossing over Regent Street, heading for Hanover Square. Dominil was waiting, her coat draped over her arm.

  “Sorry I’m late,” said Thrix.

  Dominil wore a plain black T-shirt. Thrix noticed how well defined the muscles of her shoulders and arms were and felt jealous. They walked into Hanover Square, a small patch of greenery. There were a few benches under the trees, and one or two pedestrians.

  “Why aren’t there any flowers?” said Thrix.

  “I don’t know. I thought there would be.”

  They had arranged to meet at the park, presuming it would contain a flower bed.

  “So much for that,” said Thrix.

  “Could we buy the flowers?” asked Dominil.

  “No. The Fairy Queen says they have to be grown locally. We can try Cavendish Square, that’s on the way.”

  They crossed Oxford Street in silence. To their disappointment Cavendish Square was closed to the public. They stood outside the locked metal gate.

  “There are flowers in there,” said Thrix. “I can see them.”

  She looked round to check that she was unobserved, then placed her hand on the padlock. It crackled and glowed, then fell to the ground. They walked in.

  “We need twelve petals from twelve different flowers,” said Thrix. “And we have to ask politely before we take them.

  Dominil pursed her lips. “I am aware of Queen Dithean’s power,” she said, “but this is straining my credulity.”

  Dominil and Thrix disappeared from public view under the thick trees, and halted at a small patch of wild purple flowers.

  “Do you know what sort of flowers these are?”

  “Harebell,” said Dominil. “Why?”

  “If we’re asking permission, it’s polite to know their names.”

  Thrix addressed the flowers. “Pretty harebell flowers, we’re here to borrow twelve petals. Queen Dithean NicRinnalch sends her best regards from Scotland and promises to take care of your brethren in her woods.”

  With that, Thrix plucked twelve petals from twelve different flowers. She placed them carefully in a small plastic bag. They carried on walking west, heading for the hotel in Gloucester Place.

  “We’re early,” said Thrix. “We can’t work the spell until after dark.”

  “We can wait in the hotel.”

  “Or we can wait in a pub.”

  Thrix disappeared into the nearest bar before Dominil could protest. By the time she caught up, Thrix was studying a list of wines chalked up on a board.

  “What’ll you have?” asked Thrix.

  Dominil asked for a glass of water.

  “Dominil. We’re about to walk into a hotel that might be full of hunters. This could be the last thing we ever do. Show some proper Scottish werewolf spirit, and drink something.”

  Dominil smiled, which surprised Thrix. “Perhaps you’re right. Our forefathers would not have gone into battle on spring water.”

  Dominil took a glass of whisky, refusing the barman’s offer of ice. “Why are these people so keen to spoil whisky with ice?”

  They drank. Both sensed the moment when the sun dipped below the horizon.

  “Time to go.”

  They left the bar and walked on until they reached the hotel in Gloucester Place. The young receptionist in the foyer greeted them without much interest.

  “Miss Theodota,” said Dominil. “I have a room booked.”

  The receptionist produced a passkey, which Dominil signed for. The hotel was fairly small, but from the appearance of the lobby, comfortable and expensive.

  “Theodota?” said Thrix as they took the lift to the second floor.

  “An ancient Athenian prostitute.”

  Thrix and Dominil stepped calmly out of the elevator though both were tense inside.

  “I didn’t sense anything strange when we came in,” said Thrix. “Which doesn’t mean the clerk isn’t phoning his friends at the Guild right now.”

  “It’s possible the Guild avoids this hotel. They might not want to use somewhere so close to their headquarters.”

  At the far end of the corridor Dominil slipped the passkey into the door. They entered the room. Dominil studied the far wall.

  “We’re at the end of the building. If we’re right, the Guild is on the other side of that wall.”

  Thrix stood facing the wall, staring at it intently. After a moment she muttered a few words, too softly for Dominil to catch. She shook her head.

  “Nothing. As far as my sorcerous investigation is concerned, that’s a perfectly ordinary building.”

  Thrix fished in her handbag for the flower petals. “So let’s see what the fairies say.”

  CHAPTER 120

  Kalix took the tube home. At Kennington Station she walked slowly up the staircase. She was jostled by two young men rudely barging past her but she didn’t react. The sun was setting as she emerged into the street, next to the cricket ground. She made her way toward her home, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the pavement.

  Kalix opened the front door. Her eyes adjusted automatically to the darkness in the hallway. Her flatmates regularly stumbled as they made their way up the dark stairs, but the lack of light never inconvenienced Kalix. She entered her flat and halted. Now that she’d arrived home she seemed unsure of her next step and stood in the corridor feeling confused. There was a tiny old table close to the door, left there for no real purpose. Kalix looked at it. Then she kicked it as hard as she could. It disintegrated with a loud crash. Kalix burst into tears, and stood in the hallway, crying.

  Daniel and Moonglow rushed to see what was happening.

  “What’s wrong? Did you bump into the table?”

  “Don’t cry, it’s just an old bit of furniture.”

  Moonglow and Daniel halted. They’d never seen Kalix crying like this before. She stood quite hopelessly, her long coat hanging off her skinny frame, sobbing in the hallway.

  Moonglow put her arm round her. “Come into the living room,” she said.

  Kalix allowed herself to be led into the living groom. Moonglow gently propelled her onto the couch.

  “Is this about Manny?” said Daniel.

  Kalix wailed and put her head in her hands. Daniel looked at her hopelessly. Confronted by a sobbing female friend, he felt quite useless. Moonglow sat down beside Kalix.

  “I’ll make tea,” said Daniel, thinking that it might help. As he filled the kettle he could picture what had happened. Kalix had told Manny about sleeping with Decembrius, and Manny hadn’t taken it well.

  I knew she should just have kept quiet. What’s the matter with Moonglow and her mania for telling the truth all the time? Now look what’s happened.

  Daniel remembered the first time he’d ever met Kalix. She’d been under attack, and had fought savagely. When she’d moved in with them she’d still been savage. He wouldn’t have imagined then that he’d ever see her sobbing over a boyfriend.

  Moonglow’s not as smart a
s she thinks she is about relationships, thought Daniel. A little lying never hurt anyone. It would have been better than this.

  As Daniel carried the tea tray into the living room he was worried about what Kalix might do when she stopped crying. Something crazy, perhaps. Moonglow had her arm round her shoulders, comforting her. That was unusual in itself. Kalix was normally not fond of being embraced. Daniel set the tray down. He remembered that he’d had a good idea when Kalix had been demented. He’d calmed her down with music. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the same. There was nothing in his huge music collection that was going to make Kalix feel better. So he poured tea for everyone, placed Moonglow and Kalix’s cups at their feet, then sat at the table, with no idea of what else he might do to be helpful, but not wanting to desert his friends.

  CHAPTER 121

  “We only get one shot at this,” said Thrix as she prepared the spell. “The Fairy Queen doesn’t like giving away magic. It will be a long time before she’ll do it again.”

  Dominil and Thrix turned into werewolves, which was necessary. The Fairy Queen’s sorcery could not be worked by humans. Thrix took the twelve petals from the plastic bag. She took another twelve petals from her handbag, these ones from Colburn Woods. Finally, she took out a small sheet of paper containing a diagram. She began to lay out the flower petals according to the diagram. This proved not to be easy. The tiny petals were hard to manipulate with her werewolf paws. Thrix’s hands trembled ever so slightly, and she swore as she dropped a petal in the wrong place. When it happened a second and third time Thrix clenched her fist, and seemed almost on the point of sweeping them all away. Dominil noted once more that it didn’t take long for Thrix to become upset these days.

  “Let me try,” she said.

  “I can manage!”

  “You obviously can’t.”

  “Just back off,” snarled Thrix. “I can do it.”

  She picked up another petal and glanced at the diagram. They had to be arranged in an arrow-like shape, pointing to their target. Thrix placed two petals successfully but then her hand trembled again and the next one went astray, fluttering under the bed. Thrix scrambled to retrieve it.