Martin Millar - Lonely Werewolf Girl (21 page)

"You do not like the light?"

Moonglow shrugged.

"It feels comfy."

The Fire Queen could understand this. In her younger days, as
a fugitive, she had often slept in caves for safety.

"I'm sorry Kalix didn't say thank you," said Moonglow,
suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"She didn't say thank you for saving her life. Or for the new
pendant. Which is quite rude, I know, but she's not really herself yet."

The Fire Queen waved this away.

"I did not suppose she would thank me. I know what Kalix is
like. She has always been troubled. Often when I am visiting Thrix her
mother phones her and there is some bother about Kalix. Thrix does not
care but the mother will not realise this. Do you have a mother?"

"Yes."

"Is she an enemy?"

"Definitely not," replied Moonglow. "We get on really well."

"Really?" said Malveria. "I was at war with my mother for
almost twenty years. You would not believe the stratagems and alliances
it took to defeat her."

She looked slightly wistful.

"Of course, my dimension was a more exciting place in those
days. At one point there were six armies competing for control.
Volcanoes threw flame all over the land. My younger brother, what a
warrior he was. Before I overcame him he had killed almost all of my
bodyguard, and they were all great fighters. Since I wiped out my
enemies, things have been quiet. Apart from…" Malveria's lip trembled.
"Apart from… Princess Kabachetka… she keeps stealing…"

The Fire Queen was unable to go on.

"Don't worry," said Moonglow, and tried her best to be
reassuring. "We'll send an email to Thrix now."

"You are very kind," said the Fire Queen, and bravely wiped
away her tears. She noticed a postcard that was stuck onto Moonglow's
large mirror. It showed a fairy resting on a flower.

"She looks familiar. Do you know the fairies?"

"Are there really fairies?"

Malveria looked at her with surprise. Humans, they were so
strange.

"Of course there are fairies. Why else would there be pictures
of them?"

Malveria studied the picture.

"It looks like one of the MacKenzie Wallace MacLouds. We
Hiyastas know them well. It was partly because of a regrettable
incident at the wedding of Florazel MacLoud that the Hiyastas and the
MacRinnalchs get on so badly today."

"Really?" Moonglow was fascinated. "What happened?"

"The Thane at the time, Murdo MacRinnalch - who would be
Kalix's great-grandfather, I think - became shockingly drunk and
insulted the great Queen Malgravane, my grandmother - may she happily
walk the pathways of eternal flame."

"What did he say?"

"It was rather what he did not say. He left her out while
toasting the beauty of those at the bride's table. My grandmother was a
famous beauty and it was a terrible insult for Murdo MacRinnalch to
ignore her. Had it not been a fairy wedding, where good behaviour is
essential unless you want your cattle to start dying, Malgravane would
have taken immediate revenge. But she got her revenge later."

"What did she do?"

"She waited till the wedding was over then turned all the
whisky at Castle MacRinnalch into water." The Fire Queen laughed. "The
poor werewolves! How they suffered. Because the werewolves are very
particular about their whisky, and do not like having to drink any
other type than their own. And of course, this was nine hundred years
ago, a time when the situation around the castle was confused, with
warfare between the human kings of Scotland and England. One could not
simply visit the nearest shop to replenish supplies. Really, it was a
very funny revenge by Malgravane."

Malveria frowned. "But it did lead to some deaths later, when
Hiyastas and werewolves encountered each other and started to fight. We
are both hot tempered peoples, and never friends."

"Apart from you and Thrix?"

"Indeed. But you can see why a messenger from me would not be
welcome at the castle."

Moonglow opened up her laptop and got on with the job of
composing Malveria's email.

59

A repeated knocking and ringing on the doorbell eventually
brought Beauty out of her slumber. It was close to midday and the
werewolf was annoyed to have been woken so early. It couldn't be
anything good. No friend would disturb them before midday.

Despite the earliness of the hour, and the astonishing amount
of wine she had consumed last night, Beauty was feeling exceptionally
well. Last night she had transformed into a werewolf and this always
gave her a lift. No matter what deprivations Beauty and Delicious
carried out on their own bodies they were always restored to health by
the monthly werewolf event. It was really convenient.

She wrapped her dressing gown around her and headed for the
door. The ringing continued. Someone was keen to get their attention.

That someone was a delivery man, and part of the instructions
on his delivery sheet were
continue ringing bell until you
get an answer
. This had been specially instructed by the
customer. Eventually the door was yanked open by a young woman with a
lot of blue hair and a dressing gown that had seen better days.

"What is it?"

"Special delivery."

Beauty studied the delivery sheet suspiciously. Her experience
of taking things in at the door was that it was always some bill or
other she'd forgotten to pay. This however, was a large box. Maybe her
sister Delicious had ordered something and forgotten to tell her. She
signed the sheet, and took the box from the courier, hoisting it easily
with one hand though the courier had struggled to carry it.

Delicious arrived in the living room a few minutes later.

"What's for breakfast?" she asked.

"Whisky," replied her sister.

"Really? Why?"

"The Mistress of the Werewolves just sent us an extra large
crate."

Delicious whooped with glee and dived towards the crate of
MacRinnalch whisky. Seventy-two bottles.
The MacRinnalch
,
a very select malt, was drunk mainly on the clan estates and none was
ever made available to the public. It was one of the few things from
home the twins truly missed.

"Why would Verasa be sending us presents?" wondered Beauty.

"Who cares?" replied Delicious, who was already drinking.
"It's a good present."

"Certainly is," agreed Beauty. "An excellent present. I missed
this."

The sisters got down to drinking. Had Verasa been there to
witness the scene, she would have been gratified to see how much the
twins appreciated her gift.

60

The Enchantress was utterly astonished to receive an email
from the Fire Queen. Malveria? At a computer? It defied belief. What
crisis could possibly have driven her to such measures?

From Malveria, Fire Queen of the Hiyasta, Mistress
of the Volcanoes, Protector of the Flame, Lady of the Inferno, Ruler of
the Burning Element, Persecutor of Mankind, Conqueror of the Ice
Dwarves, Destroyer of the Iron Giants…

Thrix skipped ahead. Malveria's full list of names and titles
could be quite daunting.

Dearest Thrix, most celebrated of werewolves, most
revered and trusted friend. You have once more led me into the paths of
damnation by sending me into the halls of mockery and derision where
Princess Kabachetka rules supreme. I have again suffered the
unquenchable

agonies of finding myself not the leader of fashion,
but a mere follower of the Princess…

The email went on like this for a while, but the gist of it
was, as Thrix soon realised, that Malveria had again arrived at some
important social event to find Princess Kabachetka wearing the same
outfit. Thrix frowned, very deeply. This was serious. Perhaps not quite
as disastrous as the Fire Queen made out, but serious nonetheless.
Thrix provided original designs for Malveria and it was inexplicable
that they were being copied.

My young human friend suggests that you may have a
spy in your fashion house
, continued Malveria.
I trust
you will root out this deplorable, despicable, treacherous, malicious
vermin at the earliest opportunity. Have you met a nice werewolf at the
castle my dear? I do worry about you being lonely
.

Thrix's reading was interrupted by the sound of someone
attempting to forcibly enter her room. She swiftly put her laptop to
sleep and crossed over to the great wooden door which she had treated
with a locking spell.

"Yes, brother?" she called.

"Open this door," demanded Sarapen.

"Have you forgotten how to knock?"

"Open this door or I'll tear it from its hinges."

It was an hour or so before dawn. Thrix and Sarapen were both
in werewolf form. Thrix didn't think that Sarapen could break through
her locking spell but she couldn't be sure. She brought a few other
spells into her mind, in case she was forced to defend herself.

"Are you ashamed to face me after voting for my brother?"

"I'm not ashamed of anything I do," replied Thrix, and
muttered the word which ended the locking spell. The door flew open and
Sarapen marched into the room.

"How nice to see you, brother. Anything on your mind?"

"How dare you conspire against me, Enchantress."

"I didn't conspire. I voted. I'm free to vote any way I want."

Sarapen bent down to place his face close enough to Thrix's
for their snouts to touch. Thrix stood her ground.

"Were it not for the entreaties of my advisors," growled
Sarapen. "The Great Council would already be short of several members.
I warn you sister, I will not allow my mother to cheat me of my
birthright. She may feel herself invulnerable to my wrath but you are
not."

"Get your snout out of my face, Sarapen, or I'll send you out
of here with such force that the castle walls will buckle."

"You think your small magicks can affect me?" roared Sarapen.

"You think your threats can change my mind?" countered Thrix.

"I do not come to change your mind, sister. I come to warn
you. The Council will meet again at the next full moon. And they will
elect me as Thane. You would be wise to remember that."

Sarapen took a step backwards.

"You admit that you have no interest in the family."

Thrix remained silent.

"So will it not be easier for you to simply vote for me? After
I am Thane I assure you that we will not trouble you."

In other circumstance Thrix might have smiled. It was so like
her brother to leave his diplomacy until after he'd made his threats.

61

"I would like you to go to London and look after Butix and
Delix." Dominil stared at the Mistress of the Werewolves. "Look after
Beauty and Delicious? Why would I do that?" "They may need protecting.
While the vote is so delicately balanced, I fear for them," explained
Verasa.

It was mid-day. Castle MacRinnalch simmered with anger, anger
that couldn't be properly expressed because the Thane's funeral could
not be disrupted. Verasa had been busy making calculations. Sarapen
would very likely try to kill Kalix in order to secure Dulupina's vote.
Probably he would try to either bribe or intimidate Baron MacAllister
to realign himself with him. Verasa thought she could deal with that.
But the twins were a problem. Though she thought it extremely unlikely
that Sarapen could offer them anything which would make them come to
the next meeting of the Great Council and vote for him, it couldn't be
discounted altogether. Worse, though, was the prospect that he might
try to kill them.

The next position on the Great Council was Verasa's to choose,
and she had already promised her sister Lucia that her son Decembrius
could have the post. This had been an effective bribe, securing Lucia's
vote for Markus. Unfortunately the replacement for the next place to
fall vacant would be chosen by Dulupina and she would almost certainly
award the position to the third child of Kurian, brother of the late
Thane. Last night Sarapen had received six votes. If he succeeded in
killing Kalix he would receive the vote of Dulupina, which would make
seven. Once Kalix was dead her position on the council would be taken
by Decembrius. He would also vote for Sarapen, making eight. If Sarapen
managed to remove one of the twins, and Kurian's third child was
elevated to the council, he would have his nine votes.

"Why," enquired Dominil, "did you promise to appoint
Decembrius? He supports Sarapen."

"It was the only way I could ensure his mother Lucia voted for
Markus."

"Reasonable, I suppose. But I still don't see why I should
leave the castle to look after Beauty and Delicious. I've heard tales
of their degeneracy. I do not think I would enjoy the task."

"Do you enjoy your life at the castle?"

"No," admitted Dominil. "But it is a home."

"I thought you might appreciate the chance to put several
hundred miles between yourself and Sarapen."

"I don't fear Sarapen."

"I know. Part of the problem with this family is that no one
feels much fear, even when they should."

Dominil was surprised when the Mistress of the Werewolves
asked her if she knew anything about rock music.

"Very little."

"You know that Butix and Delix are musicians? They play
guitar, and sing. They have appeared onstage. But of course, they're
too disorganised to ever make anything of it. I know nothing of the
business but I'm sure there must be much to organise. Other musicians
to meet, places to play, publicity, matters of that sort."

"Are you suggesting I should manage their band?" said Dominil.

"Why not? You've been bored these past three years. You are
the most intelligent of the family. I've no doubt that you could
organise anything you put your mind to. At least you wouldn't be bored."

Dominil finished her wine and poured herself more, brushing
back her hair which reached almost to her waist; long, straight and as
white as snow.