CHAPTER 145
The Fire Queen put down the scroll in front of her, and sighed. “I have lost confidence, First Minister.”
“Lost confidence, mighty Queen?”
“Yes, Xakthan. I know you will find it difficult to believe. My splendid rule continues, my frocks are unmatched and my subjects continue to revere me.”
“That is true,” said the loyal Xakthan. The Fire Queen’s reign was continuing in splendid fashion, and her subjects did adore her. As for her frocks, he was prepared to take the Queen’s word for it.
“Is there something in the new drainage scheme you’re not certain of?”
Malveria scowled. “My knowledge of drainage schemes is slight. If you say it is satisfactory, I’ll sign the order. But it is not drainage that troubles me. Ever since the malevolent Kabachetka was photographed for the ‘fashionable party people’ page in Vogue, I have felt matters slipping away from me. What if she were to truly overtake me in matters of fashion?”
“That seems very unlikely.”
“Is it? Perhaps Vogue is trying to tell me something. Perhaps it is time for me to retire from matters of style, and spend my days wrapped in one of these dreadful old garments my mother used to wear, may she walk peacefully in the warm flames of the afterlife.”
First Minister Xakthan had never understood fashion, but did his best to reassure the Queen. “Does not Thrix MacRinnalch keep you ahead of the Empress?”
“She did. But Thrix has been too busy with werewolf affairs. And I fear she may die soon.”
“Die soon? Is she ill?”
“In a way. She is ill inside. She is obsessed with revenge, and has used much difficult and harmful sorcery in an effort to attain it. It is burning her up. But that is not what will kill her.”
The Fire Queen gave her first minister a short account of recent events on Earth concerning the MacRinnalchs. “It is a very dangerous mission they embark on. I fear for Thrix. I would go with her but I cannot enter a dwelling of the stone dwarves. I have never regretted that before, but I do now. I wish they had not cursed me.”
“But the curse was worthwhile,” said Xakthan. “It happened because we destroyed their army. How we chased them from the field!”
First Minister Xakthan had fought that day, and he was proud of the memory.
“We did. But I wish I had not killed Gasanda. It has always been a source of regret.”
“You had no choice,” said Xakthan. “She was an invader.”
The Fire Queen sighed, and looked morose. “We had such fun when we were children.”
Xakthan was silent, unable to think of anything that might cheer her.
“So now I can’t accompany Thrix. The worry has been affecting me. And this, added to the Vogue disaster, has quite drained my confidence. It has never struck me before, First Minister, but perhaps the reason I have not produced an heir is because no one would want to produce one with me.”
Xakthan was astonished to hear this, and would have rushed to reassure the Queen, had he not always found it both difficult and inappropriate to comment on the Queen’s personal life. “I am sure that’s not true at all,” was all he could manage and, even at that, he felt embarrassed.
“Really? There must be something wrong with me. Do you know that my dismal niece’s efforts to find me a partner now extend to the Duke of the Black Castle?”
“I suspected as much.”
“You did? How?”
“I’m not quite as unobservant as you think.”
The Fire Queen managed a small smile. “I suppose you are not. One is tempted to throw Agrivex in the volcano for her impudence, and yet . . .” The Fire Queen raised her palms. “Is it so ridiculous? I suppose I must have some sort of consort if I am ever to produce an heir.”
“How about Duke Garfire?” suggested Xakthan. “He’s very respectable.”
The Fire Queen shuddered. “Please, First Minister. Were I to marry Garfire, I would soon be obliged to kill him before fleeing from an outraged populace. And the same goes for Stratov and all the rest. What is it about my aristocracy that makes them all so tedious?”
“Is DeMortalis tedious?”
“No. He is witty, handsome, charming and even rather exciting. But he is not respectable, and I just do not see him as a consort. The population would not like it. Or perhaps they would. I can no longer tell. This worry is affecting my judgment. And it is quite ruining my encounter with Donatella.”
“Donatella?”
“Versace,” explained the Fire Queen. “She is involved in the launch of Mr. Takahashi’s new fashion line.
“Mr. Takahashi?”
“A young Japanese designer. I’ve been keenly looking forward to this event, but now I shrink from the affair. Kabachetka will be there, in the company of those fashion editors she has managed to fool with her charitable pretensions. Worse, it is on the very night that the MacRinnalchs are planning their attack. I cannot be charming and beautiful when I’m worried that Thrix may be on the receiving end of a silver bullet.”
“Werewolves are hardy creatures,” said Xakthan. “She’ll survive a silver bullet, unless it pierces her heart.”
“That is not very reassuring, First Minister. I fear there will be many silver bullets, and one of them will find her heart. I also fear that Kabachetka may be involved.”
“Why would she be?”
“She still assists the werewolf hunters. Thrix does not fear this. She insists the Empress does not know of the attack. But I am suspicious, Xakthan. I will watch her on the night, and make sure she does not leave to assist the hunters. Which reminds me, is there word from our spies in the Empress’s palace?”
“There was an attempt on Sarapen’s life. He survived it.”
“Have we managed to give him the means of escape?”
“Not yet. The Empress’s agents watch him at all times.”
“Keep trying. I have made a promise to Dominil MacRinnalch.”
“Very good, mighty Queen.”
CHAPTER 146
Thrix and Kalix drove home in silence. Dominil followed them, arriving moments later.
“How did it go?” she asked, in the lift.
“Good. I hid it under the carpet,” said Kalix.
They walked along the corridor to Thrix’s apartment.
“Describe the foyer to me,” said Dominil. “We need to know what to expect.”
Kalix told Dominil everything she could remember about the interior of the Guild’s headquarters.
“There wasn’t much space. There was some old furniture.”
“Did you see any computers?”
“There was one behind the counter.”
“Good. I may be able to get access to their system from there.”
“Not if you have hunters shooting at you,” said Thrix.
“There might be only a single person at the desk in the middle of the night. We may be able to dispose of him quickly without being observed.”
“Are we going to destroy the building as well?” asked Kalix.
“Yes,” said Thrix.
“No,” said Dominil.
“We should set it on fire.” Thrix was insistent. “Why risk leaving anything?”
“We can’t burn it down without endangering everyone in the buildings around.”
“The fire brigade will arrive, won’t they? They can rescue the neighbors.”
Dominil took out her phone. “I need to let Markus know that we’ve planted our marker.”
She talked to Markus on the phone for some time. Kalix and Thrix sat in uncomfortable silence. The werewolf sisters had no light conversation to share with each other.
Dominil ended her call. “Everything is in place at the castle. They’ll all travel down tomorrow. We attack the night after.”
Dominil asked Kalix if she needed a lift home. Kalix was about to accept the offer when Thrix interrupted.
“Could you stay here for a moment? I need to talk to you about something.”
Kalix eyed Thrix suspiciously. “About what?”
“A private family matter.”
Kalix scowled. She didn’t want to be left alone with Thrix. “OK. If I must.”
Dominil left them alone.
“Now I won’t get a lift home,” said Kalix.
“When you met your ex-boyfriend in the street, who was with him?”
“Why?”
“I’m curious.”
“It was his brother.”
Thrix stared at Kalix. “His brother? Have you met him before?”
“No. Why?”
“Do you know what he does?”
“Stop asking annoying questions!” cried Kalix.
“I’ve a good idea what he does,” said Thrix. “He’s a werewolf hunter.”
Kalix’s eyes opened wide. “What?”
“He’s a werewolf hunter. I saw him go into their building.”
“You’re making it up.”
“Of course I’m not making it up. Why would I? When you cycled off your ex-boyfriend walked back down the street and his brother went straight into the Guild’s building. I saw him take some sort of identity card from his pocket as he went inside.”
“Maybe he was just delivering something.”
“Did he look like a delivery boy?” said Thrix. “You’ve been going out with the brother of a werewolf hunter!”
“Stop talking rubbish,” said Kalix, angrily. It was ridiculous. How could Manny be related to a werewolf hunter?
“Have you ever asked him what his family does?” asked Thrix.
“No. Why would I?”
“Did you ever tell Manny you were a werewolf?”
“Of course not.”
“Was he ever curious about werewolves?”
“Stop asking stupid questions!” yelled Kalix.
“I wouldn’t say they were stupid questions!” Thrix yelled back. “Manny’s probably been spying on you all along. How could you be so stupid?”
“I didn’t tell him anything! He doesn’t know anything about werewolves. It’s ridiculous.”
“You’ve put the whole mission in danger,” said Thrix. “Do you know why I didn’t mention this to Dominil? Because she’d have told the council and the mission would have been cancelled. They’d have said it was too dangerous after you’ve been spied on.”
“I haven’t been spied on.”
“That’s what you think. I think you’ve been going out with a werewolf hunter.”
The sisters glared at each other with loathing.
“You’re the one who goes out with werewolf hunters,” said Kalix.
Thrix smiled malevolently. “And look what happened to him.”
Thrix’s unfortunate affair with the werewolf hunter Captain Easterly had ended when Kalix killed him.
“You’d better hope your boyfriend doesn’t show up during the attack,” said Thrix.
“Don’t you do anything to him!”
“Why not? If he’s been spying for the Guild, are you just going to let him off?”
Kalix became confused, and was stuck for an answer. She didn’t know what she’d do if it turned out to be true. When the MacRinnalchs confronted a werewolf hunter, they killed him. There were no exceptions.
“I don’t believe any of it,” said Kalix. “I’m leaving now.”
She stormed out of Thrix’s apartment, slamming the door. Thrix poured herself a drink. “Young Manny better not have been spying on us,” she muttered. She sipped her whisky, then laughed. “Maybe it’s not so bad. I owe Kalix a dead boyfriend.”
CHAPTER 147
Daniel and Moonglow were shopping in the small supermarket close to their flat.
“Do you think they ever notice our weird shopping patterns when it comes to meat?” asked Moonglow.
“What do you mean?”
“Most of the time we hardly buy any. But around the full moon we always load up with pounds of beef and lamb for Kalix.”
“She does have a powerful appetite when she’s a werewolf. But they probably don’t notice. When we were working in that supermarket I was struggling just to get through the day.”
Moonglow put a bottle of bleach in her basket, and a packet of four sponge-scrubbers for the kitchen.
“Do we need milk?” she asked.
“Yes. And what’s this I hear about William being gay?” said Daniel.
“He’s gay,” said Moonglow. “What of it?”
“Aha!” said Daniel, inappropriately loudly. “So you admit it!”
“I was never hiding it.”
“Yes, you were! You deliberately pretended he was Mr. Ideal Boyfriend.”
“He is Mr. Ideal Boyfriend,” said Moonglow.
“Apart from being gay.”
“I suppose so. I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem is you’ve been pretending to go out with him and he’s gay!”
“I wasn’t ‘pretending to go out with him.’ I just helped him out at the ball. He hasn’t come out to his parents yet.”
“But you’ve seen him loads of times after that!”
“Because we get on well. What’s wrong with that?”
Daniel came to a halt. “It’s no use putting milk in your basket like nothing’s wrong. You know you’ve been pretending to go out with him and deliberately not telling me he was gay.”
“Nonsense,” said Moonglow. “I thought you knew.”
“How would I know?”
“At college he wears badges saying ‘I’m Gay.’”
“Who reads badges?”
Moonglow shook her head, amazed at Daniel’s lack of observation. “What about his T-shirt, you know, the pink one with “Queer” on the front?”
“I thought that was ironic.”
“How would it be ironic?”
“I don’t know. Stop obsessing about T-shirts. The point is you’ve been pretending to go out with someone who’s actually gay.”
CHAPTER 148
Mr. Hofmann, head of security at the Avenaris Guild, studied the purple flower suspiciously. He’d been called down to the foyer by Marshall and Braid from Group Sixteen. While thoroughly examining every inch of the Guild’s headquarters, they’d found the flower under the carpet. Mr. Evans from Intelligence arrived a few moments later.
“What is it?”
“A flower. Someone hid it under the carpet.”
“Why would anyone do that?” asked Mr. Evans.
“I don’t know,” replied Mr. Hofmann. “But I don’t like it.”
They stared at the purple bloom. The lift opened behind them and Mr. Carmichael stepped out.
“I heard there’s a security alert. What’s happened?”
Mr. Hofmann showed him the flower. “We’re wondering if it might be more than just a flower.”
Mr. Carmichael nodded. “Who found it?”
“Marshall and Braid.”
“Good work.”
Mr. Carmichael carefully took the flower from Hofmann and examined it. He was the oldest member of the board, the oldest serving member of the Avenaris Guild. In his lifetime of hunting werewolves, he’d seen things that few of the others had.
“Looks normal. But I doubt that it is. Ask Ms. Leclair to come here at once.”
Nicole Leclair, a Frenchwoman, was currently employed as esoteric adviser to the Avenaris Guild. The Guild did not have much recourse to sorcery, but in their business of hunting werewolves, they did encounter it on occasion. Ms. Leclair was not a sorceress herself, but she claimed to have knowledge of the magical arts. Where she had obtained this knowledge was not widely known. Ms. Leclair arrived, dressed in a black business suit, the fashionable cut of which rather emphasized the lack of style exhibited by the senior members of the board. She declined to touch the flower, but had Mr. Carmichael place it back on the floor, then knelt to examine it. The examination went on for quite a long time, leading to some frustration from Mr. Hofmann and Mr. Evans, neither of whom were sympathetic to sorcery, and w
ho both privately suspected that Ms. Leclair made it up as she went along.
“It’s a portal,” she announced, finally. “A means of opening a pathway.”
There were some skeptical looks exchanged among the men around her. Mr. Carmichael, however, was not skeptical.
“A pathway? From where?”
“I can’t tell. It could be placed anywhere nearby.”
“Can people walk through this pathway?”
“I believe so.”
“But that’s impossible,” protested Mr. Evans. “You can’t use sorcery in this building, everyone knows that.”
“This is a very unusual piece of sorcery,” said Ms. Leclair. “It’s different to anything I’ve encountered before. I think it might penetrate even the walls of this building.”
“Ridiculous,” said Mr. Hofmann.
“Not ridiculous,” said Mr. Carmichael. “This is exactly the sort of thing I was expecting. Gentlemen, this is the point of attack. The MacRinnalch werewolves are going to walk into this foyer.”
“When?” said Mr. Hofmann.
“I don’t know. At night presumably, when they’re strongest. It will be soon, we can be sure of that. Maybe tonight.”
Mr. Carmichael noticed the expressions of dismay on his fellow board members’ faces.
“I don’t see why you’re all looking so worried. This is perfect. We already knew the werewolves were going to attack, and now we know exactly where they’re going to attack. We’ll be ready for them.”
Mr. Carmichael eased the flower back under the carpet.
“From now on, no one leaves the building. All other business is cancelled. Mr. Hofmann, maintain security here, while I organize the rest of the Guild members and make sure we’re ready.”
CHAPTER 149
After the assassins’ attack, Sarapen walked around openly, refusing to hide. Though the Empress shunned him, and everyone in the palace avoided him, knowing he was marked for death, Sarapen refused to show fear. If the Empress wanted him dead, he wasn’t going to end his days skulking in the shadows.
He walked to the palace kitchens and picked up food from the serving trolleys. Kitchen staff lowered their eyes, and moved to avoid him. Sarapen regarded them with scorn, and filled his plate with no sign of discomfort. There was whispering all around but he ignored that too. He put the silver plate on one of the fine palace trays made from thinly sliced black volcanic rock, and strode back through the palace toward the chamber he’d inhabited since his arrival. The corridor was lined with the distinctive black and red marble that the Hainusta used for their grandest buildings, and the light from the torches on the walls reflected brightly from the polished surface. The Empress’s palace was far brighter than Castle MacRinnalch. Sarapen had no difficulty in spotting the three elementals who waited for him outside his chamber. All three were fully armored. Soldiers, rather than assassins, thought Sarapen. Experienced fighters from the looks of them. Each carried a sword and a meldrava, the slingshot favored by the Empress’s troops. They were loaded with still-burning lava from the Eternal Volcano, sometimes mixed with other deadly substances. Silver, in this case, Sarapen felt certain.
The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf Page 54
