Martin Millar - Lonely Werewolf Girl (48 page)

Dominil sagged onto the small bed in the cell. She was now
feel-ing very unwell. She'd expended a great deal of energy in trying
to break out. Worse, she needed laudanum. Lack of the opiate was
starting to make her feverish. She sat on the bed and tried to compose
herself. If she couldn't have laudanum then she would just have to do
without it. Dominil would not allow Sarapen to see that she was
suffering.

Madrigal had arrived upstairs. A thin, non-descript sort of
man of average height, thirty years old, with light brown hair. Not a
man to stand out anywhere. He told Sarapen of Gawain's encounter with
the hunters, how he'd tossed them aside as if they were nothing, before
going on to visit Thrix.

"After that he travelled east to Limehouse."

Sarapen nodded. "The premises of the Young MacDoig. No need to
wonder why Gawain searched for news of Kalix there. And then?"

"He returned to Thrix's establishment in Soho. But after
that…" Madrigal paused. "I lost him."

Sarapen frowned. "How?"

"I can't explain. It was as if I became disorientated. As
Gawain left Thrix's I suddenly couldn't track him. I don't know why it
happened."

Madrigal looked abashed. He was good at his job, and not used
to failure. He shifted uncomfortably. Madrigal had worked for Sarapen
often enough to know that he was not a werewolf with an even temper.
Sarapen frowned deeply, pondering this. Though displeased, he knew his
agent well enough to appreciate that he didn't lose concentration for
no reason. He was exceptionally reliable, and he had good reason for
serving Sarapen well. Madrigal wanted to be a werewolf. He'd grown up
in the region of Castle MacRinnalch and had played with the young
MacRinnalchs and MacAndrises when he was a child. Though the young
werewolves took care not to divulge their secret to humans, it so
happened that Madrigal had learned of it. Now he wanted to be a
werewolf, which was not impossible, if a werewolf like Sarapen agreed
to make it happen.

"Could you have been entranced by sorcery?"

"Sorcery? I didn't feel anything."

"The Enchantress may have been responsible for your
disorientation. She could have placed some spell on Gawain as he left
the building, rendering him impossible to follow."

Sarapen didn't like the way he was being forced to encounter
sorcery. Not just from Thrix. There was the Queen of the Hiyasta to
con-tend with as well.

"Keep looking for Gawain," he instructed. "When you find him,
keep following. He'll lead us to Kalix. Have you reported your findings
to the Douglas-MacPhees?"

"I have."

From his tone, Sarapen knew that Madrigal did not care for the
Douglas-MacPhees. That was not surprising. Few humans would.

130

Sarapen sat all night alone on the upstairs balcony, sipping
whisky from a glass. Sometimes at night he'd change into werewolf form
and roam in the park. It was a poor substitute for his own lands in
Scotland. Here the air wasn't clean and even on the clearest night,
there were few stars in the sky. His thoughts turned again to Dominil.
What was she thinking, helping the detestable twins? It was bad enough
supporting Markus without becoming involved with Butix and Delix. Was
she conniving with them, encouraging them to vote for Markus? Sarapen
didn't believe there was any chance of the twins ever returning to the
castle to vote, but perhaps the Mistress of the Werewolves thought
otherwise. Perhaps that was exactly what Verasa and Dominil were
plotting. Sarapen was suddenly filled with loathing for the twins. He
should make it clear to them just how unwise it would be to get in his
way.

The great werewolf scowled, suddenly remembering the jealousy
he'd felt at Dominil taking other lovers. He couldn't go on like this,
indecisive and uncertain.

"She's going to join with me or I'm going to kill her," he
muttered.

Sarapen drained his glass then headed towards the basement.
Dominil was slumped on the bed in her cell but as Sarapen entered she
rose to her feet and glared defiantly at him.

"Release me," she demanded.

Sarapen glared back at her.

"Were this door not between us I'd kill you now, dog," spat
Dominil.

'Who else would dare to call me a dog to my face?' thought
Sara-pen. Dominil had not threatened to complain to the Mistress of the
Werewolves about her abduction, as might have been expected. She simply
stated her intention of killing him. She was a fine werewolf.

"Join me," he said, abruptly.

"What?"

"Join me. I'll be Thane and you'll be Mistress of the
Werewolves."

Dominil was astonished.

"Sarapen," she said, speaking slowly. "You are a dog who
deserves to be put down. As a man and a werewolf you're a brute and as
a lover you were a failure. I'd rather dally with a farm-hand on the
MacRinnalch estates than spend a minute in your company."

Sarapen roared with fury and threw open the cell door. Before
Dominil could move he struck her full in the face and she tumbled to
the ground. As soon as she hit the floor she transformed into her
werewolf shape but even as she leapt for Sarapen's throat she could
feel the sapping of her strength brought on by the lack of laudanum.
Her jaws were still a long way from Sarapen's neck when he transformed
and stuck her again, harder this time. Dominil hurled herself once more
at her captor but Sarapen, furious and no longer in control of his
actions, fastened his jaws around her neck and wrestled her to the
ground. He inflicted savage wounds on her with his teeth and claws,
biting and striking her again and again till the white werewolf's coat
was a mass of bloodied fur.

Sarapen might have killed her had he not been interrupted by
Andris arriving in the basement. Thinking that Sarapen would regret
killing Dominil when he regained his senses, Andris called out in
alarm, but made ready to flee in case Sarapen's rage was such that he
turned on him as well. Sarapen looked round. For a moment he seemed
undecided. He looked down at Dominil's broken body, unconscious at his
feet, then rushed from he cell.

"Lock the door," he ordered, then left the basement.

Sarapen's fury had subsided just enough to prevent him from
killing Dominil but it flared up again when he found the three
Douglas-MacPhees waiting for him upstairs.

"Well?" demanded Sarapen. "Have you found Kalix?"

"No," responded Duncan Douglas-MacPhee, shaking his head so
the black feather earring that hung from his right ear touched his chin.

"So what are you doing here?"

"We need money."

"I gave you money," said Sarapen.

"It's expensive in London," said Rhona. "You expect us to live
like dogs?"

Sarapen roared and snatched Duncan and Rhona from their
chairs, lifting them into the air, one in each hand.

"I expect you to do as I tell you!"

He flung them from him and they skidded over the wooden floor
to clatter into the far wall.

"You bunch of petty thieves. Show me results or you'll regret
it."

"It's not our fault," protested Duncan, picking himself off
the floor. "She's hidden. She doesn't even have a scent."

"You haven't been looking hard enough!" roared Sarapen. "Kalix
skulks in alleys and so do you. Find her for me!"

The Douglas-MacPhees backed away. Sarapen held up his hand,
halting them.

"Listen well. Before you resume your hunt for Kalix, I have
another task for you. Do it, and you'll be paid. I want you to visit
someone."

Outside, the air was cold, and the winter rain was threatening
to turn into sleet. In Camden, Butix and Delix shivered, and turned up
the heating. They had quickly relapsed into their old ways. Beauty lay
on the couch with a bottle of the MacRinnalch whisky in one hand and a
large joint in the other.

"So much for the great musical revival," she muttered.

"It's all over," agreed Delicious.

Pete called up to ask about their next rehearsal.

"No rehearsal ever," Delicious told him. "We'll never play
again."

She put the phone down with a heavy sigh. After the initial
excitement, Yum Yum Sugary Snacks were now heading the way of all the
twins' other bands, rapidly into oblivion. The cousins about whom the
family did not speak had come to rely completely on Dominil. Now she
was gone they had no idea what to do, apart from curse all the
MacRinnalchs for their ridiculous family feuds.

They watched TV till they passed into unconsciousness in a
haze of marihuana and whisky. Both would have slumbered late into the
day had they not been wakened before dawn by an extremely loud banging.
Wondering if it might be Dominil, Beauty struggled to her feet and made
her way unsteadily to the door.

It wasn't Dominil. It was the Douglas-MacPhees. They marched
into the front room, pushing Beauty before them. Delicious tried to
rise but Rhona MacPhee kicked her back onto the couch. Beauty attempted
to help her sister but was clubbed to the floor by Duncan.

"A message from Sarapen," he said.

The Douglas-MacPhees changed into werewolf shape and began to
wreck the house. The sisters were powerless to prevent them. They
couldn't transform. Their protests were met with violence and in a
space of only a few seconds Beauty and Delicious lay battered on the
floor and the MacPhees were smashing furniture and hurling guitars
around the room. The destruction was swift and thorough.

Fergus put his foot through the twins' DVD player and kicked
the remnants at Beauty's head.

"Don't vote against Sarapen," he said. "Don't do anything that
might annoy him. If you do we'll kill you."

"Dominil won't be coming back to protect you," added Rhona.
"The white bitch is dead and so will you be if you misbehave."

The Douglas-MacPhees marched out of the house, slipping into
their filthy black transit van and driving off.

Beauty and Delicious helped each other to the couch. Neither
of them had wanted to cry while the Douglas-MacPhees were there but now
they gave in to the urge. Finally Beauty rose. She locked all the doors
and windows and phoned Castle MacRinnalch.

"The Mistress of the Werewolves. Quickly. We're in trouble."

131

Andris MacAndris looked dubiously at Dominil. She was lying
motionless on the concrete floor. Was she dead? He entered the cell and
leant over her carefully.

Dominil was still in her werewolf shape. She wasn't
unconscious. She'd passed out briefly under Sarapen's terrible assault
but had regained consciousness in time to hear him leave. She lay
still, aware that Andris was entering the cell. Dominil ached. Her
body, already weakened by the laudanum withdrawal, had been severely
damaged by the cruel talons and fangs of Sarapen. She felt as if her
life was draining away. Dominil banished this thought. As she sensed
Andris bending over her, she sprang. She clamped her jaws round his
throat, lifted him from the ground and threw him against the wall. She
followed up with a crashing blow to the head that rendered him
senseless.

She slung her coat over her werewolf shoulders and limped from
the cell. She could hardly walk. Sarapen's jaws had torn a great gash
in her leg, ripping her thigh muscles. Despite her poor physical state,
Dominil was now thinking clearly. At the foot of the stairs she sniffed
the air. There were many werewolves upstairs, but not Sarapen. Dominil
made her way painfully up the stairs and crept through the door. The
corridor was empty. She swiftly advanced, entering the first empty room
she came to. Dominil had to escape without encountering anyone because
she knew she didn't have the strength to fight again. Blood continued
to seep from her wounds, and her white coat was stained red in many
places.

She found herself in a small room overlooking the park. The
window was locked. Dominil swayed. Her injured leg would barely support
her.

'This,' she thought in her calm way, 'is difficult.'

It would have been better to leave quietly but Dominil had no
time to work on the window fastenings. She picked up a heavy chair,
smashed the window, leapt through the ragged gap, and fled into the
park. The moon above gave her strength and she struggled on for as long
as she could before her damaged leg gave way. She sank into a clump of
bushes. Her strength was almost gone. Dominil summoned her last
reserves. She hadn't put enough distance between herself and Sarapen's
mansion. She gritted her teeth and began to crawl. At this moment,
though she had troubles enough, a terrible craving for laudanum washed
over her, followed by a feverish heat that brought sweat oozing from
her pores. She felt that if she didn't have laudanum soon she would
burn up and die. Dominil wiped the sweat from her eyes and kept on
crawling.

132

Daniel couldn't find Moonglow. Thrix was not
at her office, and no one else who knew
Moonglow had seen her. "No sign of her?"
asked Vex.

"No. And I think I've managed to panic her parents."

"What now?"

Daniel didn't know. Once he'd looked in the obvious places he
had no inspiration about what to do next. Vex was now feeling bored.

"Maybe we should just go home and wait for Aunt Malvie and
Thrix to come back," she suggested. "They know spells and stuff.
They'll find her."

"They're busy looking for Dominil. They don't care about
Moon-glow."

"I suppose you're right," said Vex. "Could we go back and play
on the pinball machine? It looked really entertaining."

Daniel was aghast.

"We have to keep looking," he said, sternly.

Vex shrugged, and ran her fingers through her spiky blonde
hair, pushing some strands back into vertical position.

"Okay."

She looked at her feet.

"I'm not completely satisfied with these boots."

Elsewhere in London the hunt for Dominil continued. The
Enchantress and the Fire Queen were interrupted several times by
anxious calls from the Mistress of the Werewolves. Thrix told her that
she was on her way to Sarapen's mansion.