The Curse of the Wolf Girl (30 page)

Kalix abandoned hope and sat back in her chair, concentrating for the moment on not succumbing to an anxiety attack. Though her anxiety had never gone away, it had been less severe in recent months. Since Gawain’s death, she’d felt it worsening. Now Kalix felt anxious about becoming anxious. That made her more anxious. Kalix tried to divert her attention by returning her gaze to the computer screen, but by now, she could barely read any of the words. Abruptly, she felt her chest tighten, and she struggled to breathe. The walls of the classroom started to advance. Kalix gave way to panic.

She stood up and fled from the room, running through the corridor and down the stairs till she was outside the building where she stood gasping in the courtyard, trying to catch her breath. She glared at the old college building and swore she’d never go in there again.

Kalix noticed she was attracting attention from students coming though the front gates. Unwilling to be stared at while still trembling from panic, she slunk into one of the old wooden benches beside the wall, out of sight of the front gate, intending to gather herself for the journey home. That in itself would be difficult. She didn’t enjoy traveling while gripped with anxiety.

Suddenly a familiar werewolf scent appeared. More than one scent. The Douglas-MacPhees were close. Kalix flattened herself onto the bench and peered out through the slats. Duncan Douglas-MacPhee appeared at the college gate.

“Maybe this one?” he said.

His sister Rhona appeared beside him. “I’m sick of checking these colleges. How are we supposed to find her? She has no scent.”

“Morag hopes we might just run into her.”

“Then let Morag walk around every college in London,” growled Rhona. “I’m tired of looking in classrooms.”

“I’m tired of arguing with doormen,” added William, appearing behind his cousins.

The trio looked at the building, blocking the gates, forcing students to detour past them.

“We’ve done enough for today,” said Rhona. “We know where the likely colleges are. It’s time for Decembrius to do his share. He should be able to tell us which one she’s at.”

The Douglas-MacPhees turned and walked off, disappearing back through the gate towards the black transit van they’d parked outside. After they’d gone, Kalix remained hidden on the bench for some time, thinking about what she’d heard.

The enchantress glared balefully at her computer screen.

“I hate this woman.”

Ann peered over her shoulder. “Susi Surmata?”

“How did she get to be the most influential fashion writer in the country? Her writing is hopeless. No insight. And the blog has a silly name. ‘I Miss Susi.’ What sort of name is that?” Thrix had failed to elicit any response from Susi and was frustrated and annoyed at the whole affair. “She obviously changed her mind about writing about my clothes and doesn’t even have the courage to tell me.”

“How may times did you email her?”

“Once or twice. Maybe three times. Five or six times. No more than eight.”

“I make it twelve,” said Ann.

“Well, you shouldn’t be counting! No wonder she hates me. How pathetic is it to keep emailing some anonymous blogger begging for a review? Now I look like a complete idiot.”

Ann studied the blog. “She doesn’t seem to update it as often as she used to.”

“Probably after seeing my designs, she decided to leave the country.” Thrix drummed her fingers on the desk. “It’s not good, Ann. I was relying on selling to Eldridges. My company is in trouble if that doesn’t happen.”

“Any progress with their buyer?”

“None at all. I think they actually hate me there. I can’t even get through to Kirsten Merkel anymore. I know why. The woman’s got a grudge against me because I’ve got an Abukenti handbag and she hasn’t. She just can’t stand it. These clothes buyers hate designers anyway. They’re jealous because we’ve got all the talent. Merkel’s probably been brooding about the handbag, and now she’s taking revenge. She’s lucky I don’t use a spell on her.”

Ann looked alarmed at the thought of her employer carrying out a sorcerous attack on an important clothes buyer.

Thrix banged her fist on her table, her considerable strength making the computer bounce and rattle. And with that, the enchantress changed into her golden werewolf shape, raised her snout towards the ceiling, and roared.

Ann rushed to lock the door. “Don’t do that!” she exclaimed. “Do you want everybody in the office to know?”

Thrix snarled. She was the only werewolf in the clan who could transform during daylight, a result of the rigorous training she’d received from her sorcery teacher, old Minerva.

The scent of jasmine suddenly appeared in the air, there was a gentle flash of light, and the Fire Queen stood among them. She was smiling happily when she arrived, but her expression changed to one of consternation as she saw Thrix as a werewolf.

“In daylight? What’s the matter? Are you under attack?” Malveria’s eyes narrowed and began to glow. Flames flickered from her fingertips, instantly transforming her from a fashionable lady of leisure into a warrior awaiting the enemy.

Thrix sighed, a deep throaty sound that rolled over her long tongue and sharp teeth. She changed back to human and sat down heavily. “No, no attack. But I can’t find Susi Surmata, and Kirsten Merkel won’t talk to me.”

“Ah,” the Fire Queen said, nodding, and she perched on the corner of Thrix’s desk. “Still you suspect the terrible handbag jealousy?”

“I do.”

Malveria clutched her own Abukenti handbag, an item that had brought her great pleasure. It was the season’s most fashionable bag, and there were many disappointed women who still coveted one. “So you plan to take on werewolf shape and rip her to pieces?”

“There will be no ripping to pieces!” cried Ann, hastily.

Malveria looked fierce. “The woman is an enemy and must be torn apart.”

“Would you stop acting like you’re both insane?” said Ann. “So Thrix didn’t get a review she was hoping for, and now a buyer won’t take her clothes. It happens. This is the fashion business, most people struggle. We just have to deal with it as best we can. Without ripping anyone to pieces.”

Malveria looked disappointed. “I still feel it’s a viable option.”

“If the buyer wanted the handbag so badly, you could try bribing her with your own,” suggested Ann.

Thrix’s eyes widened in amazement. “I love my handbag. I’m not giving it up.”

“It’s an outrageous suggestion not fitting of the esteemed personal assistant to my dearest Thrix,” chided Malveria. “A woman does not give up her favorite bag. Particularly when it is the most fashionable item of the season. I would lead my nation to war rather than surrender mine.” She glanced at her bag. “It’s just so stylish and practical.”

Ann sighed. “Well, you’ll have to think of another plan then. One that doesn’t involve any blood. I’ll ask around again about this blogger woman. Someone in London must know how to contact her. Maybe I can find out something from my friend in Vogue’s payroll department. They must have sent her a check some time.”

As Ann departed, Malveria made a quick examination of her makeup and outfit in the large wall mirror and nodded approvingly. “Our dinner went well, yes?”

Thrix agreed that it had gone well.

The queen looked on expectantly. “So?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know very well what I mean. How was your subsequent date with Captain Easterly?”

“It went quite well.”

“Excellent. Was there sex and debauchery?”

“No.”

Malveria looked disappointed. “Might there be in the near future?”

“Probably not, with my track record. But we had a nice meal, and we managed not to bore each other. That’s an improvement on any other date I’ve had recently.”

“I knew he would be suitable!” Malveria was triumphant. “The Fire Queen does not send her esteemed friend Thrix on a date with just anyone. The moment I encountered him at the opera, I knew he would make you an excellent companion. Admittedly Distikka pointed him out to me, though I still claim full credit for the match.”

“He was a good choice. But don’t get your hopes up, there are still plenty of opportunities for it all to go wrong.”

“Abandon all such thoughts, Enchantress. Since your meeting, he has doubtless spent every waking hour thinking of you. Really, Enchantress, I feel we may be entering a golden age.”

“I don’t think I’d go that far, Malveria.”

“Why not? You have found a suitable man, your mother is pleased at you for securing the services of Mr. Felicori, your hair is golden and splendid, and your clothes designing becomes better than ever. If we can just solve the minor problem of procuring a substantial sale of your clothes to Eldridges, everything will be excellent.”

Thrix didn’t feel that everything was going quite as well as the Fire Queen suggested, but Malveria brushed aside her objections.

“And as for my own life, it is equally promising. With Agrivex now frequently absent from the palace, I’m free to concentrate on dressing well and impressing the aristocracy with my operatic knowledge. It has gone down very well, you know. It’s being said everywhere that Malveria, besides being best-dressed queen in all the nations, also has excellent taste in music and culture.” She smiled very broadly, showing her perfect white teeth to good advantage.

“What about your advisory council?”

“Even there, there has been an improvement. Distikka protects me like a great wall of flame. At this moment she is completing the rather tedious calculations concerning the date for the Fire Festival, and that should keep the council quiet for a while.”

* * *

Distikka had indeed made the complicated calculations to ascertain the correct date for the celebration of the Vulcanalia and presented them to the advisory council. The council was still unhappy that the Fire Queen hadn’t done it herself, as was traditional, but were pleased to have the matter settled. Distikka grew in their esteem. As it was becoming ever more difficult to see the Fire Queen without Distikka’s approval, ministers now found it necessary to seek favor with her, no matter how lowborn she was.

Afterwards Distikka returned to her private chambers, awaiting the arrival of her lover, General Agripath. She’d started an affair with a captain and, showing her usual determination, swiftly worked her way up, procuring higher-ranked suitors as her status grew. Now she was having an affair with a general who, it was said, might soon be promoted to head of the army. Distikka let him understand that with her influence behind him, he would be, so it was a favorable alliance for both of them.

Around midday on Saturday, Kalix appeared in the living room. Daniel and Moonglow were eating breakfast cereal.

“You have a cat on your shoulder,” said Daniel.

Kalix sighed. “I can’t get rid of it.” She twisted her neck to study the small bundle of fur. “Is this normal?”

“I’ve never seen a cat ride around on anyone’s shoulder before,” admitted Moonglow, “but it’s cute.”

She leaned forward to stroke the cat’s ear. The cat hissed. Moonglow looked mortified. All her life, she’d gotten along well with cats, but this one didn’t seem to like her. It didn’t seem to like Daniel much either, though it tolerated Vex.

“You’d think a normal cat would be friendly to humans and maybe suspicious about werewolves, not the other way around,” said Daniel.

“Why?” asked Moonglow.

“Because of the danger of being eaten, obviously.”

“Hey!” protested Kalix. “I don’t eat cats.”

“Come on, you know it would make a tasty little mouthful,” said Daniel.

Kalix, whose fragile nature meant she was often unable to tell when Daniel was teasing her, looked mortally offended.

Moonglow tried to smooth things over. “I think it’s sweet, the way it likes you so much.”

“Maybe it thinks you’re its mother,” suggested Daniel.

“Why would the cat think Kalix was its mother?”

“I’ve seen it happen in cartoons.”

“What? With a werewolf?”

“Well, no. But ducks and things. You know, they hatch out of their eggs and then they meet an elephant or something and they think it’s their mother.”

Moonglow stared at Daniel.

“It happens all the time in cartoons,” said Daniel, defensively.

“If you say so.”

“You really need to watch more TV. Then you’d know things like that.”

Kalix was still scowling. “I can’t get rid of the stupid thing. And it takes up the whole bed.”

“You better be careful,” said Daniel, directing his words to the cat, “in case she eats you.”

“I don’t eat cats!”

“We never thought you did!” said Moonglow, looking furiously at Daniel.

“Has Kalix been eating cats again?” asked Vex, brightly, appearing in the room in a gaudy yellow dressing gown.

“I never ate any cats!”

“Okay. Except I thought you said you did. When you were living in that warehouse. Or was that rats? Did you eat rats?”

“No!”

“Dogs? No? I’m sure you ate something strange. Maybe the postman?”

Kalix scowled furiously, offended by the whole conversation.

Agrivex grinned at the cat. “Don’t worry, Kabby, Kalix won’t eat you, she has plenty of food here.” Vex loaded up a cereal bowl with an enormous amount of cornflakes and poured sugar on top. In contrast to Kalix, Vex had a very healthy appetite.

“Why did you just call the cat Kabby?” asked Moonglow.

“Because that’s its name.”

“How do you know?”

“The cat told me, of course,” said Vex.

Kalix, Daniel, and Moonglow regarded Vex with some skepticism.

“The cat told you?”

“Of course.” Vex paused, noticing the odd looks that were being directed towards her. “What’s the matter?”

“Cats can’t talk, you idiot,” said Kalix.

“Yes, they can.”

“No, they can’t.”

“Well, I can talk to cats,” said Vex, amiably. “She says her name is Kabby, and she’s pleased to be here, except she wouldn’t mind if you brought her a bit of fish every now and again instead of that cheap cat food. Also, a few cat toys wouldn’t go amiss.”