Martin Millar - Lonely Werewolf Girl (25 page)

"The same how?"

"Vomiting and attacking us."

"I hope not," replied Moonglow, dubiously. "I can't go through
all that again."

Despite her doubts, Moonglow was delighted that Kalix had
returned.

"I really hope she stays this time."

Daniel arrived back downstairs just in time to prevent the
werewolf Kalix from answering the door to the pizza delivery man. When
the food was paid for she grabbed it eagerly and hurried back to the
television.

"What's the rush?"

"This is the best programme ever," said Kalix, "I never knew
they made such a good programme."

She crawled even closer to the screen.

"What is it?" asked Daniel.

"Sabrina the Teenage Witch."

Daniel sat down on the couch.

"Also one of my favourites. Move over, you're blocking my
view."

70

The morning after the funeral Gawain was brought before
Verasa. She stared at him coldly. This young werewolf had caused her a
great deal of trouble. Indeed, it would not be stretching things too
far to say that his affair with Kalix had directly contributed to
Kalix's subsequent attack on the Thane. It was after Gawain's
banishment that Kalix's madness had really become severe.

Verasa was surprised to find the thought floating into her
mind that Gawain was in fact very handsome. Such a thought would not
normally have occurred to her. She had seen too many young werewolves
grow up to pay any particular note to their looks any more. Yet there
was something about Gawain. Something brooding. Something poetic
perhaps, though he was a strong young wolf. She could see why her
youngest daughter had fallen for him. Perhaps if she had noticed
Gawain's attractiveness before she'd have taken care not to let Kalix
be alone with him, though as his family were so respectable, she
couldn't really have prevented them from visiting the castle. It was
Gawain's great-great-grandfather who had brought the Begravar knife to
the clan. This was one of the MacRinnalchs' most treasured possessions
and the tale of its finding was among their legendary exploits.

"I could have you killed."

It was true. Gawain remained silent.

"Under the terms of your banishment you were forbidden to
return to the castle. Why did you come?"

Gawain looked the Mistress of the Werewolves straight in the
eye.

"I wanted to see Kalix," he said.

"How very romantic," retorted Verasa. "Unfortunately my
daughter has no wish to see you."

"I'd like to hear her say that herself."

"What you would like is of no consequence," said Verasa,
harshly, and rose from her chair. It was rare for the Mistress of the
Werewolves to give vent to her anger but when she did she was an
intimidating woman. Verasa swiftly brought her temper under control.
She had less time than she would have liked to deal with Gawain. There
were many werewolves to see before they left the castle, and much to be
done in the matter of strengthening support for Markus.

"Are you here looking for your sentence to be commuted? Do you
regret your behaviour?"

Gawain took a step forward, again meeting Verasa's eye.

"The only thing I regret is that I accepted the banishment. I
should have taken Kalix away from the castle. When I find her, I'll
take her away with me and no one will stop me."

"Such bravado," said Verasa dryly. "Had I time to talk to you,
I might be impressed. But probably not."

She motioned to her guards.

"Put him in the small cell beneath my chambers. I'll question
him later."

Gawain was led off to the cell. While not as dank and gloomy
as the dungeon, it was not a comfortable place. The key turned in the
lock and Gawain was once more incarcerated.

71

Thrix arrived back in her offices like a woman with a mission.
She had work to do and a spy to find.

"Ann. I need to see our designers and our marketing people.
Have them in my office in thirty minutes. Get Milan on the phone and
then place a call to the agency in New York. We have a new show to do
and not much time to prepare. Then bring me the personal files of
everyone that works here."

Ann nodded and went off to organise the schedule. Thrix hoped
that the spy didn't turn out to be Ann. Ann was the most efficient
personal assistant she'd ever had. If she was the traitor it would be a
crushing blow. At the castle it had been hard to concentrate on her
business. The meetings of the Great Council had been fraught and the
atmosphere afterwards had been worse. Thrix cursed the whole sorry
business and hoped that it might no longer affect her. She knew this
hope to be in vain. Sarapen wasn't going to roll over and let their
mother manoeuvre him out of the Thaneship. There would be trouble.

The Enchantress shook her head, trying to banish all thoughts
of her family. She wondered if the Fire Queen might be exaggerating her
recent experiences of fashion piracy. Might Princess Kabachetka have
simply been turning up to events in clothes of which Malveria was
envious? It was possible. When it came to fashion Malveria was very
passionate and jealous, and might mistake another's good dress sense
for theft of her own style.

Thrix took a small silver bowl from her drawer, dropped some
herbs into it and waved her hand, causing the herbs to ignite. She was
sending a message to Malveria's realm and she hoped that the Fire Queen
would not be too busy to answer. She began to mutter the words of the
spell.

"I call thee, Malver - "

"You're back!" cried the Fire Queen, instantly materialising
in front of the desk. "Splendid! I've been waiting for your call. How
was the gloomy castle?"

"Gloomier than ever, and very stressful. Mother managed to
make sure Sarapen wasn't elected."

"Then who is the new Thane?"

"Still undecided. Sarapen or Markus."

"Ah," said Malveria. "Then there will be a war. Do you want me
to bring troops?"

"No, Malveria. If there's a war I'm staying well out of it."

Malveria perched herself elegantly on the edge of Thrix's
desk, checking herself in the wall mirror as she did so. She was
particularly pleased with the area of stocking beneath her skirt which
showed between her knee and ankle. Stockings had until quite recently
been unknown among the Hiyasta. The Queen had taken some back to her
realm where they were examined by elemental tailors who then
sub-contacted the work out to fairy weavers. The result was some
fabulously sheer stockings, finer than could be found anywhere in
London.

"Did you pick up any fashion ideas? But no, they are all
tartan-clad barbarians at your Scottish castle, yes? Were you obliged
to wear a kilt?"

The Fire Queen knew perfectly well that this was not the case
but liked to pretend that Thrix had escaped from a land of barbarians
before making her way south.

"Malveria, on those recent occasions when you've arrived here
in tears - "

"In tears? Surely you exaggerate. A slight moistening of the
eyes, perhaps."

"Yes, well, have you giving me an accurate description of
events? Was there really someone there in an exact copy of the clothes
I designed for you?"

"Absolutely. In a percent. How many percent is absolutely?"

"One hundred."

"Then it is one hundred percent. Copies, every item. The blue
dress, the silver slippers, the little yellow shawl with the beautiful
stitching which you swore had come that day from your own embroiderer."

"It had. Malveria, this is very serious. And not just for you.
If my designs are being copied by someone with enough connections to
get them into your dimension what chance do I have here in this world?
I'm meant to be showing clothes in Milan and New York soon. If this
carries on it'll ruin my business."

"What will you do?"

Thrix wasn't entirely sure.

"It would help if we knew where Princess Kabachetka gets her
clothes. Presumably her designer is the person who's stealing my ideas.
We might find a link between her designer and some spy in my operation."

The Fire Queen was following this closely. When it came to
planning and strategy, Malveria had a lot of experience. Her frivolous
manner entirely forgotten for the moment, she considered Thrix's words.

"It would be difficult for me to learn this. I have no easy
way of obtaining information about the Princess. Relations between
myself and her mother the Empress Asaratanti are not good."

"I thought everything was peaceful in your realms these days?"

"We will not go to war. But we do not like each other. The
Empress heard that I had been casting doubts on the naturalness of her
figure -she went to Los Angeles to have her breasts lifted, you know -
and since then relations have been very cool. But really, I do not
understand how she thought she could get away with it undetected. The
Empress is two thousand years old if she's a day and now she has the
breasts of a teenager. One could not help but notice. As for her
whor-ish little daughter Kabachetka, she has never forgiven me for
stealing three of the five lovers she was scheduled to meet on the last
solstice."

Thrix looked at Malveria pointedly.

"What? I left her two. That was more than enough for a woman
like her. I doubt very much if even these two were satisfied."

The Enchantress smiled.

"So you can't find out anything about the Princess's clothes
designer?"

"I did not say that. It will be difficult, but for a woman who
once defeated the three-headed crimson dragon alone and unaided,
nothing is impossible. Still they sing songs of that incredible
exploit. Do you like my stockings?"

"They're beautiful," said Thrix, appreciatively.

"Each pair costs three pieces of gold. The fairies, they do
not work for nothing. But it is worth three pieces of gold to make each
leg look fabulous. Even Agrivex complimented them, and Agrivex, as a
rule, does not care for stockings."

"Agrivex? Who's that?"

"My niece. Have I never mentioned her to you?"

"I thought you'd done away with all your family?" said Thrix.

"I have. Really Agrivex is not related to me. But I've come to
regard her as a niece and may even one day adopt her in some way. She
would be, I suppose, around seventeen in human terms, though our years
are somewhat different as you know."

The Enchantress was surprised to hear Malveria speak with
warmth about any of her subjects. Normally when she talked of her
realm, she just sounded bored.

"She was an orphan, the illegitimate - is that the right word?
-daughter of a fire temple prostitute who died in childbirth. Around
ten years ago, when Agrivex was seven, she was due to be sacrificed in
the normal way. And yet, while the other children were queuing in an
orderly fashion, prior to be thrown into the small volcano, which is
considered quite an honour, she attracted my attention by marching
around in an angry fashion, stamping her feet and saying over and over
that we could not sacrifice her, as she was a
little princess
.
She was very insistent, and refused absolutely to co-operate, calling
me some very bad names and threatening terrible revenge. For instance,
she said that if she was sacrificed she would never speak to me again.
Naturally I was attracted to a child of such spirit, and spared her
life. Since when she has moved into the palace where she plagues
everyone, including me. I fear that she may one day attempt to steal my
fine clothes, but she is at present going through a phase which
involves wearing only the shabbiest of apparel. Yes, I am fond of young
Agrivex's spirit, though I was obliged to punish her for wearing ripped
trousers to my last banquet. One has one's limits, after all."

The Fire Queen rose lightly to her feet.

"I now depart to consider the matter of the evil Princess and
her filthy spy."

Malveria smiled, waved her hand, and disappeared, leaving
behind the scent of jasmine. Thrix had been meaning to ask her what
happened with Kalix but she'd forgotten. She had more important things
to think about. She used her intercom and asked Ann about the personnel
files and Ann said she'd be right in with them.

72

Dominil put on the black leather coat which reached down to
her ankles, packed a few extra clothes in one bag, her Latin poetry and
her laptop in another, and flew to London. Her mission was to protect
and assist the cousins about whom the family did not speak. She was not
sure what to expect. At twenty-eight she was only six years older than
the twins but Dominil had never had much to do with them. She mainly
remembered them as a noisy pair of cubs who went around the castle
wearing headphones all the time, listening to music and playing air
guitar. Verasa believed that if Dominil could help the twins' musical
career, it might be enough to persuade them to vote for Markus. Dominil
had agreed to the mission, partly because she was bored, and partly to
help thwart Sarapen.

Dominil and Sarapen had fallen into a passionate relationship
the year after she returned from Oxford. After being surrounded by
students Dominil was surprised to find herself suddenly so attracted to
the large, forceful werewolf. Their clandestine affair had been so
intense that it was not uncommon for them both to wake up with their
human bodies scarred from the attentions of their werewolf claws the
night before. Then Sarapen had found out about an affair she was having
with a young man in a neighbouring town. The young man had subsequently
gone missing. Sarapen denied all involvement but Dominil was certain
Sarapen had killed him. Dominil would never forgive Sarapen for that.
She would have her revenge.

Dominil had not been in London for several years, not since
Verasa had sponsored an exhibition of Byzantine art at the Courtauld
Gallery. Dominil had liked the early religious paintings with their
austere saints; liked them enough to later buy something similar from
Merchant MacDoig and hang it in her chambers. It was one of the very
few decorative items she possessed. Dominil was not fond of colourful
trinkets. Under her black leather coat she wore black trousers and a
black shirt, and no jewellery.