Martin Millar - Lonely Werewolf Girl (78 page)

"Good," said Sarapen. "You've done well. You have always done
well for me, Madrigal."

Madrigal stepped forward. He had been waiting for this moment
all his life. He was going to be werewolf. The great Sarapen himself
was going to share his blood and transform him. Sarapen changed into
his werewolf shape. He bent down, took Madrigal in his jaws, and
snapped his neck. Madrigal fell down dead. Sarapen looked at the corpse
with contempt.

"I would never make a werewolf from a spy such as you," he
growled.

"Quite," said Princess Kabachetka. "But could we get on now?
I'm planning a late arrival at the Sorceress Livia's but even so, time
is pressing."

"We will - " began Sarapen, but halted as the Hainusta
Princess held up her hand. She had sensed something.

"Is there any reason for twenty men to be creeping into this
warehouse?"

Sarapen reacted instantly.

"Hunters," he hissed. "Everyone get out of sight."

Sarapen's troops melted into the shadows. The hunters from the
Guild, confused by the Fire Queen's sorcery, had come further south
than they intended. When they reached King's Cross, the one among them
with powers of seeing detected the presence of werewolves. The hunters
drew their weapons, and advanced.

217

Markus had fought valiantly but Wallace's superior strength
was now starting to tell. The Barons' wolves roared encouragement while
the MacRinnalchs looked on in mournful silence. Markus was now down on
one knee, desperately fending off blows. Blood ran freely down his mane
from ten or more cuts. Rainal glanced over at the Mistress of the
Werewolves, looking for a signal that he should intervene. If Markus
surrendered, his life could still be spared. Verasa remained impassive,
and gave no signal. She stood quite still, not even brushing off the
snow that settled on her werewolf snout.

Wallace finally succeeded in dragging Markus to the ground,
crushing him with his weight, and fixing his jaws around Markus's
throat. "Stop the fight!" hissed Rainal to Verasa. "Tell Markus to
yield!" Up on the battlements, Beatrice MacRinnalch moaned in torment
as she watched her lover being savagely mauled, but there was no sound
from Verasa. She stood in silence, and watched the fight.

Markus writhed under the jaws of Wallace. His arms flailed but
his blows were becoming weaker, unable to hurt his opponent. Or so it
seemed, right up till the moment when Wallace dragged Markus's head
back to snap his neck. Markus connected with a blow to the side of
Wallace's face. It was no stronger than any of the other blows which
Wallace had shrugged off, but it seemed to have more effect. Wallace
sagged. Markus hit him again, and Wallace sat back, loosening his grip.
Markus was able to hurl him off and scramble to his feet. Sensing his
opportunity, he threw himself at Wallace, reigning blows on him and
tearing at him with his claws. Wallace reeled backwards through the
snow, fending him off as best he could.

"His strength has gone," said Verasa, calmly. "I knew it
would." Now Wallace's supporters fell silent as cheering erupted from
the MacRinnalchs on the castle walls. Markus continued to pound
Wallace. Though he had been all but spent, the scent of victory renewed
his vigour and when Wallace himself sank to one knee, exhausted, Markus
leapt on him and fastened his jaws round his neck. Wallace collapsed.
His resistance was gone. Abruptly Verasa stepped forward. She hurried
across the trampled, blood-stained snow and put her hand on her son's
shoulder, then looked up at Baron MacGregor.

"Do you admit defeat?" she called.

Her question was heard by the hundreds of silent werewolves
who surrounded the Baron. If the Baron accepted mercy from the Mistress
of the Werewolves, the MacGregors could no longer continue to besiege
the castle. Everyone knew it. Baron MacGregor walked forward.

"Stop the fight," he said.

Markus allowed Verasa to draw him away. He was satisfied with
his victory. He didn't have to kill Wallace. Verasa signalled to her
assistant Erenx and she led Markus back into the castle where Verasa's
doctor was waiting to attend to his wounds. The Mistress of the
Werewolves nodded courteously to Baron MacGregor, turned on her heel,
and followed Markus back into the castle.

"That was far too close," muttered Rainal, at her side.

"I had confidence in my son," said Verasa.

"Would you have let him die?"

"Markus would not have wanted me to intervene on his behalf,"
replied Verasa. "It would have sullied his honour."

Rainal was again impressed at Verasa's coolness in the face of
danger. But Rainal was not privy to the Mistress of the Werewolves'
every secret. He didn't know, for instance, that Eskandor MacRinnalch
was hiding in a tower on the castle walls, with a sniper's rifle loaded
with silver bullets, under orders from Verasa to shoot Wallace dead if
he seemed to be on the verge of killing Markus. He didn't know that
Verasa herself had a small pistol hidden in her cloak, also loaded with
silver bullets, which she would have used if necessary. Rather than let
Markus die she would have broken all werewolf taboos by killing
Wallace, even as the clans looked on. And Rainal didn't know, and would
never know, that before the whisky was drunk at the start of the fight,
the Mistress of the Werewolves had arranged for the inside of Wallace's
goblet to be smeared with poison. The poison had slowly sapped his
strength, making it seem as if he was simply worn-out from fight-ing.
Verasa, observing the struggle, had felt a twinge of concern that she
might have used too little of the poison. As it turned out, it had done
its job perfectly. To those who saw the combat, Wallace had just burned
himself out, and the superior stamina and spirit of Markus had carried
the day. The poison was debilitating but not lethal. By the time
Wallace recovered from his injuries, the substance would have
disappeared from his body. No one would ever guess what had happened,
least of all Markus.

The Mistress of the Werewolves hadn't told her son of her
precautions. Despite this, he'd gone out to fight the fearsome Wallace,
and had not hesitated for an instant. Verasa felt proud of him. Few
werewolves who watched the single combat now believed he was unworthy
of the Thaneship. Many of them might still favour Sarapen, but it
couldn't be said that Markus's spirit was weak.

218

Yum Yum Sugary Snacks were finishing their set in fine style.
The twins rampaged around the stage, singing, screaming, and knocking
things over. The gig had been a great success; much better than anyone
previously acquainted with the sisters had anticipated. Dominil was
satisfied. In her detached way, she found herself disapproving of the
number of mistakes the band made, but she knew it didn't matter. The
sisters' raw talent and enthusiasm was enough for tonight.

'Though if I am ever responsible for a studio recording,' she
mused. 'I'll make sure it is a good deal more competent.'

Vex was glowing. She hadn't stopped dancing the entire night.
Daniel couldn't keep up, and now sat at a table nearby, occasionally
bringing her drinks. Further back, Malveria was perplexed. She was used
to the stately music played at Hiyasta ceremonies. The sounds emanating
from the stage didn't sound like music at all. The Enchantress wasn't
enjoying it any more than the Fire Queen. Thrashing guitars had never
been to her taste. Besides, she was on the alert for Sarapen or the
Guild, and continually scanned the surrounding area, checking that her
protection spells were all in place.

Gawain held on tightly to Kalix, and was surprised when he
felt someone trying to pull her from his lap. It was Vex.

"Stop being so boring," she was saying to Kalix. "You've been
sitting there all night. Come and dance."

"The band's finished," said Kalix.

"They're going to play an encore. Come and dance!"

Vex's eyes shone with enthusiasm. She started tugging at
Gawain. Gawain felt awkward.

"I don't dance," he said.

"What do you mean you don't dance?"

"I'm… eh…"

"Brooding and poetic," said Kalix, finishing his sentence for
him, and kissing his forehead. Vex looked disappointed.

"You go," said Gawain to Kalix.

Kalix allowed herself to be dragged forward by Vex, just as
Yum Yum Sugary Snacks were returning for their encore,
Vile
Werewolf Whore
, a particularly virulent denunciation of
anything to do with white-haired werewolves from Castle MacRinnalch.

Watching Kalix and Vex dance, the Fire Queen shook her head.
She was struck by the huge contrast between Vex's behaviour and her own
when she was that age. Then Malveria had been fighting a guerrilla war,
dressed in rags and sleeping in a cave with a sword in her hand. Vex
slept in a huge bed under a pink quilt and danced without a care in the
world. Tomorrow Malveria would scold her thoroughly for her foolish
behaviour, and make sure she attended all her lessons. But it was good
to see her niece happy.

Thrix glanced at Gawain. He was transfixed by the sight of
Kalix in motion. The Enchantress scowled, and snapped her fingers,
filling her glass with whisky. She drank it back quickly, then turned
her attention back to her protection spells. They were all in order. No
enemies were near.

"Yes, I sense nothing out of order," agreed Malveria. "And now
it is time for me to go. Soon the appalling Princess Kabachetka will
know she has been defeated by the magnificent Malveria Maladisia."

"Maladisia?" said Thrix. She knew many of the Queens names,
but had never heard that one.

"One of my most secret names," said the Queen. "I give it to
you as a present, because of your tireless work on my behalf. With that
name, you can always call me to your side."

As the band's set ended, the audience clapped and cheered.
Dominil was gratified. She could report to the Mistress of the
Werewolves that her mission had been successful. But as Beauty and
Delicious left the stage, she turned towards the entrance and wondered
what had happened to Sarapen. She'd been sure he would arrive.

This part of the venue was now closing. Though the band could
remain while they packed up their equipment, everyone else had to go
downstairs. Dominil didn't want anyone to become separated so she
quickly gathered up every werewolf in the room.

"We're with the band," she said, to the bouncer who was asking
them to leave. The bouncer shrugged and turned his attention to
hurrying the other stragglers downstairs.

Sarapen and his werewolves drove from King's Cross towards
Camden. The fight in the warehouse had been brief. The hunters had
seemed disorientated as they arrived in the warehouse and they'd been
ambushed and slaughtered. The Guild's careful preparations had been
fatally disrupted by Malveria's intervention. They had expected to make
an attack on a small group of unprepared werewolf musicians. Instead
they'd found themselves surrounded by a superior force of trained
warriors. Sarapen's wolves had all but annihilated them, and few of the
hunters made it out of the warehouse alive.

In the brief melee Sarapen had lost five werewolves. The
hunters all had guns with silver bullets, and even the swiftness of the
ambush hadn't prevented them from firing a volley, many of them
shooting from close range. Inevitably some bullets found their targets.
Sara-pen's plan was unaffected; he still had plenty of wolves to
complete his task.

The rest of their musicians had already gone downstairs and
Beauty and Delicious were packing away their guitars. Dominil cast a
quizzical look towards Thrix, but Thrix shook her head. There were no
enemies nearby. Dominil was disappointed. Vex was still excited.

"Weren't the band great?" she screamed at her aunt.

Before Malveria could compose a suitably withering reply,
there was a low growl from the corridor outside. A huge wolf padded
into the room. Sarapen was here.

219

Markus's skin was lacerated in many places and he was covered
in bruises but he was so elated he hardly noticed the pain. He would
have remained in the courtyard, accepting the congratulations of the
MacRinnalchs, had Verasa not cut the celebration short, sending her son
to his chambers for medical treatment. At the sight of blood flowing
from her favourite son, she was moved almost to tears. She waited
anxiously outside her son's rooms while the doctor examined him.

"What is taking so long?"

"Doctor Angus is very thorough," replied Rainal. "Don't worry,
Markus is fine."

A tear rolled down Verasa's cheek which she wiped away
angrily. Rainal pretended not to notice. Finally the doctor emerged.
Angus MacRinnalch was grey-haired, old enough to be venerable, older
even than Verasa. His manner was slightly brusque, and he dismissed
Verasa's fears with a wave.

"Nothing wrong, a few cuts and bruises. Maybe a cracked rib,
I'll need an X-ray to be sure."

"A cracked rib?" Verasa was aghast.

"It's a minor injury. If your son insists on fighting Wallace
Mac-Gregor, it's fortunate he suffered nothing worse. Once he's rested
and had a few wolf changes under the moon he'll be as good as new."

The doctor was spared further anxious questioning from Verasa
by the unexpected appearance of Great Mother Dulupina. She moved slowly
along the corridor towards them. The old werewolf greeted Doctor Angus
before acknowledging Verasa. The doctor had ministered to Dulupina for
many years, and she had a high regard for him.

"How is the boy?" she enquired.

"Well enough."

"Well enough for me to see him?"

"For a little while. "

Great Mother Dulupina spoke to the Mistress the Werewolves.

"He did well."

Dulupina, who had never had much regard for Markus, went into
his chambers to congratulate him. Markus was lying on his bed. His
eyelids were starting to droop, but his head rose sharply as he scented
Dulupina. It was something out of the ordinary for her to visit. He
struggled to rise.