The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf

by Martin Millar

  CHAPTER 174

  Markus had argued with his mother in the past, but he’d never raged against her the way he did now.

  “Everyone is saying I cheated against Wallace! They say you drugged him! Is it true?”

  “Of course it’s not true, Markus. I’d never do that.”

  “If it’s not true how did the rumor get started?”

  “I don’t know how,” said his mother. “Just one of those foolish things that people say. Just ignore it, people will forget about it.”

  “No one is going to forget about it because everyone believes it! They don’t think I could have beaten Wallace in a fair fight.”

  “But you did,” insisted Verasa. “Everyone saw it.”

  Markus’s face was glistening with perspiration. The fever had not yet left his body, and he should still have been resting. “This is a nightmare! I was supposed to lead the clan into battle and instead fell ill! Did you have something to do with that?”

  “Please, dear, don’t be ridiculous. How could I make you ill?”

  Markus glared at his mother suspiciously. He didn’t know how she could have made him ill but he wouldn’t put it past her.

  “Instead of postponing the attack, they’ve gone ahead without me! They couldn’t even wait a few days till I was better. Why didn’t you stop them?”

  “I tried to—”

  “And Wallace has gone with them!” Markus found this particularly galling. “No doubt he’s telling everyone I cheated. Why did you poison him?”

  “I didn’t,” insisted the Mistress of the Werewolves.

  “I don’t believe you!” said Markus.

  “Markus, are you accusing me of lying?”

  “Yes! And now I’m disgraced!”

  “Really, Markus, you’re making far too much of a silly rumor—”

  The Mistress of the Werewolves’ phone rang. It was Dominil. There was a short conversation during which the Mistress of the Werewolves quickly became agitated. When the call ended, she stared at the phone as if she couldn’t believe what she’d heard.

  “Sarapen isn’t dead,” she said.

  “If course he is, we buried him.”

  “Whoever we buried it wasn’t Sarapen. Empress Kabachetka kept him alive. He joined in the attack in London.”

  It was an astonishing piece of news. Nothing could have been more disturbing. Markus and his mother had fought a civil war to defeat Sarapen and now he was back.

  “What happened in the attack?” asked Marcus.

  “Dominil says they defeated the Guild and destroyed all their records. But Wallace MacGregor is dead, and so are Eskandor and Barra and Feargan, and Morag Macallister. Decembrius is badly hurt. They’re taking him to Doctor Angus.”

  The Mistress of the Werewolves sat down, shaken by the news. Markus did the same. He felt light-headed from his fever, and could hardly grasp what had happened. “Wallace is dead? And Eskandor? And Sarapen is back?”

  Verasa could barely imagine how Baron MacGregor would react to the death of his eldest son. Young Baron MacAllister would be equally outraged at the death of his sister.

  “They shouldn’t have gone ahead,” she muttered. “They should have waited.”

  The Mistress of the Werewolves left Markus in her chambers as she hurried off to tell her sister Lucia the bad news about her son Decembrius.

  CHAPTER 175

  Distikka looked around her small cell. It was, she reflected, a very poor place to spend the last few hours of her life. The walls were hard black stone, as was the bed. The prison beneath the palace was not a comfortable place. She had been sent there after a summary trial, presided over by the Empress.

  “Distikka. Your scheming has ended in disaster. Thrix MacRinnalch still lives, as does her sister Kalix. My agents report that they inflicted a defeat on the werewolf hunters. Furthermore, Sarapen has escaped. Worst of all, my spy in the offices of Vogue informs me that the Fire Queen has somehow managed to inveigle her way into the next edition of the magazine, clutching a repulsive plastic handbag. There is even talk of a pleasant little lunch with Donatella Versace. For all this, I hold you responsible.”

  The Empress looked down at Distikka from her throne. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

  “Really,” began Distikka,” I don’t think—”

  “The court has heard enough!” cried the Empress. “You are guilty of everything and will be executed at noon tomorrow. Adviser Bakmer, please ensure a suitable crowd is gathered to see Distikka thrown into the Eternal Volcano.”

  “Very good, Your Excellency,” said Adviser Bakmer, and bowed very low, to hide his inappropriately broad smile.

  Distikka sat in her cell. What a loathsome creature the Empress is, she thought.

  She looked up at the sound of footsteps outside her cell. “At last. I wondered when you were going to get here.”

  Ex-adviser Tarentia appeared very anxious. “I don’t like this at all,” he whispered. “Do you know how dangerous this is for me?”

  “I’m the one who’s about to be executed,” said Distikka.

  “As will I be, most horribly, if the Empress discovers I’m helping you escape.”

  Distikka smiled, and even in her desperate circumstance, she looked young and boyish, with her short dark hair. “It’s your only chance of getting back into the throne room, Tarentia.”

  “Do you have the documents?”

  “When you get me out of here,” said Distikka.

  Tarentia opened the cell. “Hurry, I couldn’t get rid of the guards for long.”

  Distikka slipped out of the cell, and followed the aging ex-adviser along the corridor. He opened a rarely used door, to which only he had the key. “Once you’re above ground you’ll be out of range of the prison’s dampening field and you’ll be able to travel anywhere.”

  “Good,” said Distikka. She drew a small key from her pocket and handed it to Tarentia. “There’s a hidden drawer beneath the bottom drawer in the dresser next to my bed. In there you’ll find details of every piece of embezzlement carried out by Bakmer. There’s a lot of it. More than enough to see him ousted, and you back in favor.”

  “Are you sure it’s accurate?”

  “I keep very good records,” said Distikka. “Be thankful it’s not you I’m turning in.”

  “Goodbye, Distikka. Never come back.”

  Distikka slipped out of the underground caverns, and looked up at the Eternal Volcano. “I never really liked the Hainusta,” she mused. “I’ll be pleased to leave.”

  CHAPTER 176

  It took eighteen hours before Daniel and Moonglow felt well enough to leave Thrix’s apartment. Kalix was too weak to walk and had to be helped into the lift. Vex was still unwell after her emergency healing duties. Daniel felt too weak to drive, so they were returning home in a taxi. They made for a sorry sight as they waited on the curb. The Enchantress herself was recovering, though Dominil was still unable to rise. Sarapen was healing quickly. He’d been badly injured, but his enormous strength had flooded back in no time.

  Vex’s shoulders were drooping as she stood on the pavement in Knightsbridge. “I never realized how difficult healing people was. I thought Aunt Malvie was making a big fuss about nothing. I feel awful.”

  When the taxi arrived Daniel helped Kalix inside.

  “I still can’t get warm,” said Moonglow. She’d been shivering for eighteen hours. When they reached their flat in Kennington it took an effort to climb the stairs. Daniel switched on the gas fire in the living room, then lay down in front of it.

  “I can’t go another step,” he said.

  Malveria taking his energy had left him not only physically frozen, but mentally numbed. For hours he’d been sure that he was either going to die or else be permanently crippled. Only now, having reached his own flat, was he starting to think he might recover.

  Vex sprawled in front of the fire. “I can’t make it to my room,” she mumbled. “Stupid healing.”

&nb
sp; Kalix tumbled down beside her. The cat, thinking that this bundle of bodies looked inviting, jumped on top of Kalix, purring contentedly. They all lay in front of the fire for a few minutes, then felt themselves being covered by something soft and warm. Moonglow, showing some determination, had made it upstairs, where she’d taken both hers and Kalix’s duvets. She covered Kalix, Daniel and Vex, took a cushion for a pillow, then lay down herself.

  “We seem to be doing a lot of lying on floors these days,” said Daniel. “Are you feeling any better?”

  “Not really,” said Moonglow. “I’m still freezing.”

  “Could you change into a werewolf?” Daniel asked Kalix. “Then you’ll be warm and furry.”

  “I’m not a hot-water bottle,” said Kalix. “Anyway, it’s daylight.”

  The four flatmates fell asleep in the living room, under their duvets, waiting for their health to recover.

  Kalix slept well enough to revitalize her strength, but she was troubled by bad dreams. She woke up thinking about Decembrius, and felt confused, not knowing if he were alive or not. She wondered if she might have done more to prevent him from being so badly hurt. She remembered all the other werewolves who’d died.

  “They probably deserved to live more than me. Maybe I could have helped them more.”

  But from the moment she’d run into the Guild’s headquarters till the moment she’d been carried out, Kalix had hardly been aware of anything around her. She’d been completely taken over by her battle madness. All she could do was attack her enemies. She looked down at her fresh scars. It was a miracle she’d survived.

  She thought about Sarapen. It was hard to comprehend that he was actually alive. They’d always loathed each other. If they’d encountered each other in any other circumstances, Kalix would have attacked him. Now they’d fought together. Kalix wondered if that made things different. She didn’t really know. Any strong emotion could bring on Kalix’s anxiety, and the combination of guilt and confusion began to make her feel bad. She rose quietly and headed upstairs to her bedroom. She reached for her laudanum, but paused. She opened the cupboard, where she had several small blades hidden for cutting herself. Again she hesitated. She realized she probably shouldn’t be cutting herself, or taking laudanum, so soon after being badly injured.

  She wondered if drawing might take her mind off her anxiety, but that made her think of Manny.

  Did he really betray us?

  Kalix could hardly imagine that Manny would have betrayed them. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing he would do.

  “But Thrix is sure he did. And he was related to the hunters. I might have said something that gave him a warning. Because I’m stupid like that.”

  She wondered why Manny had asked her to call him again. It might really have been because he’d forgiven her for sleeping with someone else. That didn’t seem likely to Kalix. Perhaps Manny just had wanted to talk to her so he could find out more about werewolves.

  “And if he didn’t betray us, how did the Guild know we were coming?”

  Kalix shook her head. She didn’t know what to think. She was more troubled now, and ended up taking some laudanum to ease her mind.

  CHAPTER 177

  Baron MacGregor was beside himself with grief over the loss of his eldest son, and neither of his other children nor his trusted advisor Lachlan could say anything to comfort him. He cursed the MacRinnalchs for their pride and stupidity in persisting with the attack. It was bad enough that the Mistress of the Werewolves had cheated Wallace out of his reputation. Now the insufferable arrogance of Thrix and Dominil had carried him off to his death.

  The next day the Baron traveled to Castle MacRinnalch to confront the Thane and his mother. He arrived in a fury, and the guards who led him to the Thane’s reception chamber did so quite nervously, wondering if they’d be called on to restrain and eject the furious werewolf. It was many years since a baron had been forcibly ejected from the castle.

  MacGregor wasted no time in letting Markus and his mother know what he thought of them.

  “I’ve come to tell you to your face that I blame you for the death of Wallace. It was your daughter Thrix’s arrogance that led to this doomed attack. And Dominil’s too.”

  “The attack happened because the Guild killed Minerva,” said Markus.

  “And we’d have been revenged in time! There was no need to act rashly. I told you it would end in misery and now my son is dead.”

  Verasa made sympathetic noises, but Markus, lacking his mother’s tact, pointed out that the attack had been a success. The Avenaris Guild had all but been destroyed.

  “So what!” roared the Baron. “There will always be more hunters! But I’ve lost my son!” He looked at them with furious contempt. “I know you cheated Wallace in single combat.”

  “The rumors are quite untrue,” said the Mistress of the Werewolves, calmly.

  “Really? I always wondered how Markus defeated Wallace, and now I know. You drugged my son. And then you sent him off to his death.”

  The Baron drew out an ancient piece of parchment from his cloak. “This is the original oath of fealty, sworn by my ancestor Baron Murdo MacGregor, pledging his loyalty to the Thane of the MacRinnalchs.”

  The Baron ripped the parchment in half and threw it contemptuously at Markus’s feet. “You’re not fit to be Thane, and the MacRinnalchs aren’t worthy of my loyalty. You will see us no more at your castle.”

  With that, he stormed out, vowing never to return.

  Thane Markus was upset. “That was worse than I was expecting.”

  “Let him grieve,” said Verasa. “He has four other sons and two daughters to comfort him. He’ll get over it.”

  Markus sat on a chair and stared at the floor. His fever was passing, though he hadn’t fully recovered.

  “No one forced Wallace to go to London,” Verasa pointed out. “It was his own choice.”

  “He went to London to show me up,” said Markus. “Because he knew I’d cheated him.”

  “I keep telling you, these stories are false.”

  Markus shook his head. He didn’t believe his mother. “And then I got sick when the clan needed me. I’m not much of a Thane.”

  The Mistress of the Werewolves put her arm on his shoulder. “Nonsense. Haven’t you presided over the destruction of the Avenaris Guild? You had the courage and authority to authorize the attack, and we destroyed them.”

  Markus would not be comforted, and spent the rest of the day alone in his room, turning away the attentions of all who sought him out, including Beatrice and Heather. They were distressed to be turned away. Neither of them believed the rumors about his victory over Wallace, and nor did they mind that Markus hadn’t taken part in the attack. Both were so in love with him that they were relieved he was still alive.

  There was much grief in the castle over the deaths of Eskandor, Feargan and Barra. Grief was felt throughout all the estates of the werewolves. The MacAllisters were proud of the warrior spirit shown by the baron’s sister Morag, but deeply shocked that she had been killed.

  It was a matter of opinion whether it had all been worthwhile. Some werewolves thought it had been, because they’d struck such a blow against the Avenaris Guild. But others thought it had not been, because the Guild was far away, and hadn’t had an impact on the lives of most werewolves in Scotland. So why send werewolves to die in London? Some thought that an attack had been justified, but it had all been too rushed, and blamed Thrix and Dominil for not planning it carefully enough.

  Preparations for the funerals were made, but they would not be glorious. They would be quiet, sad affairs and, at some of them, the Thane would not be welcome.

  CHAPTER 178

  Thrix had called her mother, asking about Decembrius. Verasa told her that Doctor Angus had operated on him, but the outcome was still uncertain. Decembrius was still hovering between life and death. The Mistress of the Werewolves had much more to say to her daughter, particularly about Sarapen, but Thrix e
nded the call abruptly. She was driving through London and had reached her destination. She emerged from her car with a scowl on her face.

  “Wallace, Morag, Eskandor, Feargan and Barra,” she muttered to herself. “And probably Decembrius.”

  Thrix climbed the stairs of the old, red-brick council block. On the top flight, she knocked sharply on the last door. Manny answered. He was surprised to see Thrix, though he recognized her as Kalix’s sister.

  “Alex isn’t here. We . . .”

  “You broke up. I know. May I come in?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Thrix entered Manny’s flat, which smelled strongly of oil paint. She looked around at his pictures of animals. She wasn’t that impressed, though there was something cheerful about his bright use of color.

  “Kalix told me what happened.”

  “Who’s Kalix?”

  “I mean Alex.”

  Manny pursed his lips. “I wish I hadn’t broken up with her.”

  “I don’t think you can blame yourself,” said Thrix. “She did sleep with an old boyfriend. A lot of people would break up over that.”

  “Maybe. But you know . . . I shouldn’t have got so mad.” Manny suddenly looked hopeful. “Did Alex ask you to come here?”

  “No. But I know she misses you a lot. She’s been unhappy ever since you broke up.”

  Manny looked unhappy in turn. “I didn’t mean to make her sad. I just . . . I was just so upset, you know.”

  Thrix nodded sympathetically. “Of course.”

  “I was quite mean to her. I’m sorry about that. I met her in the street and I asked her to call me, but she hasn’t.”

  “Alex is very shy. She’s probably just trying to work up the courage.”

  “Really?” Manny looked hopeful. “Thanks for telling me. I should call her.”