Martin Millar - Lonely Werewolf Girl (9 page)

Daniel looked at Moonglow in amazement. Thrix was obviously
angered. She spoke into the intercom.

"Hold my calls."

25

The MacRinnalchs had two conflicting myths about their
origins. One story said that the werewolf clan had been started by
Gavur Rinnal at the time of the Roman occupation of Britain, two
thousand years ago. According to this story, Gavur, after being badly
wounded in battle with the Romans during their northernmost expedition
into Scotland, at Cree, had ridden back to the hills and hidden in a
cave, while the victorious Roman army combed the area. While hiding in
the cave he had been visited by a Pictish medicine woman. She told him
that she could save his life, though his life would never be the same
again.

Gavur accepted her offer. His tribe had been all but wiped out
at the battle of Cree and he yearned to take revenge. The Pictish
healer put herbs on his wounds, and chanted a spell over him. Gavur
Rinnal fell asleep. When he woke, he felt refreshed. At that moment two
Roman soldiers entered the cave. Gavur flew at them and to his
amazement he found himself rending their throats with his jaws. He had
been transformed into a wolf. Gavur killed many of his enemies in the
hills, and ever afterwards he retained the power of transforming into a
wolflike creature at will. From Gavur Rinnal and his wife, the whole
MacRinnalch Clan was descended.

But another story said that the MacRinnalchs had come
originally from Sumeria, from the same plains that saw the rise of the
first cities ever built by men. They had emerged from the mists of
prehistory among the people of Ur, formed by some strange mingling of
beasts and men, when supernatural powers still walked the earth. From
Ur the werewolves had spread through Mesopotamia, travelling west and
north. Many had settled in Turkey and Southern France, but a few had
travelled on, eventually crossing the English Channel and migrating
northwards towards the isolated mountains and forests of Scotland.
While werewolves had died out in many of the areas they used to
inhabit, the MacRinnalch Clan had remained strong in the north.

No one knew which, if either, of these stories was true.
However, it was certainly true that the MacRinnalchs could trace their
historical ancestors as far back as the Great Grey Wolf himself, Avreg
MacRinnalch, who fought against the Viking invaders in the latter part
of the ninth century. Avreg was buried in Colburn Wood, and his
broadsword was preserved in the museum at Castle MacRinnalch.

26

Thrix studied the young couple in front of her. She'd
encountered humans before who seemed fascinated by her kind. Were these
two like the others, looking to add some excitement to their lives by
mingling with werewolves? Worse, might they be the type who actually
wished to be transformed? Thrix hoped not. Such people usually had
strange ideas about werewolves; romantic notions about prowling through
forests and suchlike. Thrix had no interest in prowling through
forests. Nor did she feel particularly in tune with nature. In London,
nature rarely entered her life and that was fine with the cosmopolitan
fashion designer.

Thrix had once killed a man who had threatened to expose her
as a werewolf. It wasn't a memory she was proud of, if only because it
reminded her of her carelessness in letting him find out her secret in
the first place. Since then she had been very careful. As far as Thrix
knew, the only human who knew she was a werewolf was her personal
assistant Ann. Now these two were here, having been alerted to her
existence by her aggravating sister Kalix. Ever since Kalix arrived in
London Thrix had feared that this would happen. Really, that was why
she had provided Kalix with the pendant. More to stop her from causing
bother than to protect her. The Enchantress was putting all her efforts
into building a fashion empire and did not want to be distracted by the
werewolf madness that always surrounded her young sister.

"You gave her a bath?"

"Yes. And she was filthy and skinny and - "

Thrix waved Moonglow quiet.

"I heard you the first time."

Thrix's lipstick was bright red, accentuating the width of her
mouth; it made Daniel worry about the size of her jaws should she
transform into a werewolf. Already the light outside was starting to
fade. He was eager to leave and tried to hurry things along.

"We can see you're busy. So could we have a new pendant and
we'll be on our way?"

He smiled brightly as if he'd solved all their problems.
Daniel had an attractive smile. The Enchantress didn't notice.

"You think I can give you a new pendant just like that? Do you
think it was easy to find an object which could mask my sister's
presence from her hunters? It wasn't easy. What happened to it anyway?"

"I think she lost it," said Moonglow.

"Sold it more likely," said Thrix, angrily. She could hardly
believe she was having this conversation. It was taboo for a member of
the MacRinnalch Clan to discuss werewolf affairs with any human. She
rose from her desk. Despite his discomfort Daniel was impressed at her
slender elegance. The sight of Thrix's long blonde hair tumbling over
her shoulders made him a little more enthusiastic about the whole
subject of werewolves. Take away the savage eating part and they were
undeniably attractive.

"I'll think about this in private," said Thrix.

"There's no time to think," protested Moonglow. "Kalix is too
weak. The next time anyone attacks her she'll die for sure."

Thrix stared Moonglow straight in the eye and told her the
matter was not open for discussion.

"You have to help," said Moonglow, stubbornly. The Enchantress
looked annoyed. It crossed her mind that it might be best to use a
little sorcery to confuse these humans' memories.

"I don't have to do anything. I'm extremely busy and you have
no idea what you're dealing with. It's time for you to leave."

Moonglow had come this far and didn't intend to give up so
easily. Trying to show no fear, she faced up to the werewolf.

"You should help your sister. She's in bad trouble. And she
looks up to you. She kept the coat you gave her. If you don't help her
then I'll always know that werewolves are weak and dishonourable
creatures."

Thrix gaped. It wasn't what she was expecting to hear. No
werewolf of the MacRinnalch ruling family, no matter how
self-controlled or integrated with human society, could tolerate abuse
like this from a human. Thrix debated whether to blast the girl with a
spell or simply use her own strength to pick her up and throw her out
on the street. Before she could make up her mind the door burst open.
Thrix whirled round, enraged because she had asked not to be disturbed.

It was the Fire Queen. Even Ann couldn't keep her out when she
had made up her mind to enter.

"Enchantress!" she screamed. "The slippers were a disaster!
You won't get away with this!"

The Fire Queen burst into a series of unintelligible oaths,
then broke down in hysterical tears.

Daniel and Moonglow looked on, quite astonished.

"This really isn't the best time - " said Thrix.

"Everyone's against me," sobbed the Fire Queen. "Princess
Kaba-chetka, all the other elementals, all fashion designers, everyone.
It is tremendously unfair!" Tears poured from her eyes.

'How am I ever meant to get my Spring collection together in
these circumstances?' wondered Thrix, and cursed Kalix for making her
life difficult.

27

Sarapen MacRinnalch flew from Inverness to London with
Decem-brius at his side. Decembrius was the son of Lucia, Verasa's
younger sister, who was a member of the Great Council. At thirty years
old Decembrius was young in werewolf terms, and looked no older than
twenty-one. He was pleased to be doing important work for the next
Thane of the clan.

Decembrius had more than just good connections and
intelligence to recommend him to Sarapen. From a young age he had
demonstrated powers of prescience. Occasionally, he could see into the
future. These powers were limited but he had a way of learning things
that could not otherwise be known. It was enough to make him useful to
Sarapen, though Sarapen had not yet admitted him into his inner circle.
There were things about Decembrius that annoyed him. His appearance
mainly. Decembrius had red hair, which he couldn't help, but he swept
it back in a mannered way. He had an irritating tendency to wear
sunglasses at inappropriate times, and an earring, discreet but
noticeable. Sarapen MacRinnalch was the most traditional of werewolves.
Until Decembrius grew out of his youthful vanity, he would not be fully
accepted.

Decembrius admired Sarapen and tried not to let it show that
Sarapen made him feel nervous. The large werewolf smouldered with such
power that it was difficult to feel otherwise. Even the airline
stewardesses, used to dealing with the most awkward of customers,
didn't seem entirely comfortable in his presence.

"When we reach London you must locate Kalix quickly," Sarapen
said. "The Douglas-MacPhees have lost track of her."

While Decembrius located Kalix it was Sarapen's intention to
visit his sister Thrix. Possibly he could learn something of Kalix's
whereabouts from her. Sarapen did not look forward to the encounter. He
disliked his sister and he disapproved of her lifestyle.

"Do you want me to visit - " Decembrius broke off, feeling the
matter to be rather delicate.

"The cousins about whom the family does not speak?" said
Sarapen, finishing the sentence for him. Sarapen had not made up his
mind. He felt that it would be as well if he made the visit in person
but he barely trusted himself to control his actions were he actually
to be brought face to face with the twins. If Sarapen could have had
his way they would have been cut off entirely from the clan, never to
be admitted again. Sadly, this was not possible. Tradition forbade it.
As the daughters of the Thane's brother, they could not be cut off.
They were members of the Great Council, the highest governing body of
the MacRinnalch Clan. Technically, at least. In practice they had not
been to a meeting of the council for many years.

Decembrius felt that the Thane had not long to live. That
worried Sarapen. When he died the council must meet to elect a new
Thane. This should be a formality. Sarapen, as eldest son, was the
natural successor. However, it was a situation that demanded careful
handling. Another werewolf might make a bid for power. Tupan, one of
the Thane's brothers, had long been manoeuvring for influence. Sarapen
did not intend to have two potential council votes adrift in an
intoxicated haze in London. What if Tupan were to attempt to bribe the
twins with drugs or alcohol? They must be visited. Perhaps it would be
better to send Decembrius.

As for Kalix, she must be brought back to face justice. Hard
as it was to believe, Kalix had also been entitled to a seat on the
Great Council though she'd never taken up her position. Since the
attack on the Thane, she'd been suspended from the council. She had
been declared guilty, and would have been sentenced already had she not
fled the castle. The council had issued an order for her to be brought
back. This order, while not exactly sanctioning her death, could be
construed as reason enough for a member of the family to take extreme
measures against her if she refused to return. There were historical
precedents.

Any member of the family who did either kill her or drag her
back would gain credit with the Great Council. Dulupina wasn't the only
werewolf who was furious at Kalix's continuing freedom. The three
Barons who sat on the council were all steeped in tradition, and they
wanted to see Kalix punished.

Sarapen frowned. Anyone who tried to deny him his rightful
position as Thane had better take care. His Uncle Tupan, for instance.
Sarapen would remove him if necessary. And Tupan's vile daughter
Dominil. Sarapen's mouth flickered in the slightest of smiles. He would
not be adverse to getting rid of her, white-haired bitch with the
frozen soul that she was.

28

When the library closed Kalix didn't know what to do with
herself. She'd looked at pictures of fairies and then she'd tried to
find things about the Runaways in the Encyclopaedia Britannica but
there didn't seem to be anything there. She wasn't sure if she was
reading the index correctly and was too embarrassed to ask for help.
She wondered what she should do now. She wished she could go back to
the warehouse but the Douglas-MacPhees might be waiting for her. Duncan
and Rhona would probably have been joined by their brother Fergus, and
he was even stronger than his siblings.

Perhaps she should just go there anyway. She wasn't scared of
the Douglas-MacPhees. It might be good to die in combat. But the
warehouse was a long way away. She couldn't face the journey. She
couldn't face anything.

The light faded quickly in the winter afternoon. As Kalix
walked down the street she was hit by a sudden wave of depression as
powerful as any she'd ever felt before. It poured down like a heavy
black rain, covering her till she staggered under its weight. Kalix
tried to keep on walking but it was difficult. The tide of depression
was frightening in its intensity. Kalix realised that this was the
final attack which was going to kill her. The thought flashed through
her mind that it was happening now because she had dropped her guard
for an instant. She had accepted help from the two young students and
now that moment of weakness would destroy her. Ever since Gawain left,
she'd cut herself off from her emotions but in Moonglow's house she'd
felt a flicker of gratitude, the tiniest spark of contact with another
creature. The moment of contact had brought home to Kalix that she was
the loneliest, most hopeless creature on the planet, without friends,
hopes, or purpose. As a consequence of this she was about to fall down
and die.