The Curse of the Wolf Girl (53 page)

Upstairs Kalix greeted Decembrius without any show of pleasure. “Don’t try kissing on me again.”

“Why would I want to? You think I’m short of girlfriends?”

“Then go visit them.”

“You asked me to come and help you.”

“No, I didn’t. You wanted to come.”

“No, I didn’t. I just came because Dominil suggested it.”

They eyed each other with dislike. Kalix thrust a few papers at Decembrius. “This is what I’m supposed to be learning.”

Decembrius looked at the papers. None of it seemed too difficult. He couldn’t see why Kalix was having such trouble.

“Let’s make a start,” he suggested.

“Is Ruraich dead?”

“Yes.”

“I wonder how the hunters found us.”

“Who knows? Let’s study. None of this arithmetic is very hard. You can do it.”

Kalix didn’t seem keen to start. “It’s strange the way the hunters seem to find us more easily these days. Why is that?”

“Are you going to study or not?”

“We should kill them all. And their dogs.”

“Right. Maybe after you’ve passed your exam. And that dog you killed wasn’t a hunting dog, it was a family pet.”

“How do you know?”

“I met the family.”

Kalix shrugged. “I hate dogs. And sharks.”

“Sharks? What do sharks have to do with anything?”

“I saw them on TV. I don’t like them.”

Decembrius felt exasperated. “Well, if we meet any sharks, I’ll bear it in mind. Meanwhile are you going to look at this test paper?”

“I could beat a shark,” said Kalix.

“Let’s look at some fractions.”

“If you try and kiss me again, there’s going to be trouble.”

“I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last werewolf on the planet.”

“Good. I wouldn’t let you anyway.”

“Fine. As long as we’re clear.”

“And you should shave,” said Kalix, looking at the stubble on Decembrius’s chin. “You look stupid like that.”

Decembrius scowled. “Do you want to do these fractions or not?”

“No.”

“Well, we’re going to anyway.” Decembrius opened the book and sat down.

Kalix leaned over and closed the book. “I need you to help me. Not with studying. With Gawain.”

“Gawain?”

“I need to know who killed him. But I don’t know how to investigate properly. Everyone just denies everything.”

“You want me to visit some people with you?”

“No. It won’t get me anywhere. I need you to see something. You’ve got powers, right? You can see things that are hidden? That’s what people say.”

“It’s not easy…I don’t really have much control over it.”

“You could try.” Kalix looked into Decembrius’s eyes, seeming very earnest.

Decembrius was about to lie but abandoned it abruptly. “I can’t. My powers disappeared months ago. They don’t work anymore.”

“But you had a vision…you said you saw everyone dead.”

“That was a one-time thing. I’ve no control over it.” He stared at the carpet. “I haven’t been keen for anyone to find out.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for a while.

Decembrius sighed very heavily. “Sometimes I wake up so depressed about it I can’t get out of bed.”

Princess Kabachetka could hardly remember when she’d been in such a fine mood. Not since being mistaken for a model at the Milan fashion show, certainly. The head of her intelligence services had managed to infiltrate the Abukenti organization and locate the anniversary shoes. Any day now, a pair should be illicitly on their way to her. It was the best news she could have hoped for. Let Thrix and Malveria strut around with their Abukenti bags. She would outshine them at the charity event.

Not only that, the princess’s comprehensive victory at the card table was the talk of her court. How angry the Fire Queen had been! Of course, Malveria had tried to conceal her dismay, but news had quickly spread.

“Afterwards she raged at Duchess Gargamond for her poor play! Duchess Gargamond has gone back to her own castle, taking her regiment with her.” The princess laughed. “Malveria is storming around the palace shouting at kitchen maids.”

Alchet, Kabachetka’s handmaiden, laughed at the image, but only briefly. The unfortunate girl knew that the princess had called her here for another of her dreadful experiments. “Please don’t strand me on Earth,” she pleaded. “Water will fall from the sky, and I’ll be extinguished.”

“Will you stop complaining? You will not be extinguished. Wet maybe, but not extinguished. And I’ll only strand you there for a moment or two.”

“I don’t want to die on that wet planet!”

“If you die, you will have the satisfaction of knowing you were of great assistance to me. Now kindly stand still while I transport you to the human dimension. Once there, attempt to bring yourself back.”

The young handmaiden gloomily did as she was told, standing with her arms wrapped around herself for protection, already glancing anxiously above her as if expecting water to start cascading onto her at any moment. The princess spoke a few words, and Alchet dematerialized.

Princess Kabachetka drew some papers from her bag. Not a roll of the parchment on which spells were customarily written, but a few sheets of photocopied paper, sent by Merchant MacDoig.

“Well, Minerva,” muttered the princess. “Let us see if your sorcery is as good as people have claimed.”

The princess intoned a few long sentences then waited. Nothing happened, which was good. She took out a small mirror and checked her makeup. It was satisfactory, though she was not entirely convinced by her lipstick. The princess tucked the mirror away then muttered another word. Immediately Alchet crashed back into the room, wailing in terror and falling to the ground.

“I was trapped between worlds! Oh, it was terrible.” The handmaiden broke down in tears.

“Excellent,” muttered the princess. “I can now strand a Fire Elemental between the dimensions.”

* * *

“How long for?” wondered Distikka, later in the day, in the privacy of Kabachetka’s underground chamber.

“With Alchet, as long as I like. For such a powerful Elemental as Queen Malveria, I’m not sure. Probably no longer than a few minutes.”

“That should be enough. She’ll be stranded long enough for you to work the moon spell, creating the eclipse. I take it you can now do that?”

The princess believed she could. “Minerva could shift the effects of the moon. I am forced to admit that she was a powerful and ingenious werewolf. I think I can use her writings to produce the equivalent of an eclipse of the moon.”

“Very good. Malveria will be stranded. Thrix will lose power and can then be killed. I’ll take control of the volcano and dispose of Malveria when she returns. Prince Esarax, too, can be disposed of, if you succeed in making him travel. In less than two weeks, I’ll be Queen of the Hiyasta and you will be heir to the throne of the Hainusta.”

* * *

After Distikka had departed, Kabachetka walked through to the chamber where the dimensions met and time stood still. She laid her hand on Sarapen’s cold body.

“Kalix will die too,” she said, as if he could hear her. “I’ll have vengeance for you as well.”

As was customary, most of the werewolves on the Great Council took on their werewolf shape for the council meeting. They gathered around the circular table, a huge old piece of oak in the great stone chamber at the heart of Castle MacRinnalch. Though electricity had long flowed into the castle, the meetings of the council were illuminated by torchlight, as they always had been, and a great log fire blazed at one end of the room.

Present at the meeting were Markus, Verasa, Dulupina, Tupan, Dominil, Baron MacAllister, Baron MacPhee, Baron MacGregor, Thrix, Decembrius, Lucia, Kertal, and Kurian.

“Council members missing are Marwanis, Butix, and Delix,” announced Clan Secretary Rainal. “And Kalix,” he added, to general discomfort. It was an awkward matter that the youngest daughter of Verasa and the old Thane was still technically a member of the council though unable to travel to the castle without being arrested. She had been condemned for her assault on the old Thane and escaped before sentencing. The council had so far been unable to resolve the anomaly, either by expelling Kalix from the council or by quashing the judgment against her. So many council members loathed Kalix that dropping the condemnation seemed impossible. Nor could she be easily expelled, with the Mistress of the Werewolves unwilling to give up on her daughter.

“I take it everyone is aware of the bad news from London?” asked Markus.

Word of Red Ruraich’s death had quickly spread throughout the MacRinnalch lands. The death of such a prominent werewolf was a grim piece of news, though perhaps not a shock. Ruraich had been in London after all. The Avenaris Guild had its headquarters there. It wasn’t just the Mistress of the Werewolves that thought it far safer for the clan to stay close to their ancestral homelands. The barons regarded the modern trend of young werewolves traveling south as a dangerous practice that should be discouraged. Red Ruraich hadn’t been young, but he’d chosen to travel, and now he was dead.

Though no one was impolite enough to castigate Ruraich so soon after his death, Baron MacPhee expressed the commonly held opinion that it had been almost bound to happen. “I don’t see why Ruraich was in London anyway. Was there not enough music for him here to play?”

There was some agreement around the table, but Dominil protested. “Ruraich wasn’t the only werewolf in London. There are others, including council members, whose business has taken them there—myself, the twins, Thrix, and Kalix.”

“Kalix is not a member of this council.”

“Yes, she is. She hasn’t been removed.”

There was another moment of awkward silence.

“Decembrius has also been in London recently,” continued Dominil.

“But he doesn’t live there!” exclaimed Lucia sharply, annoyed at the suggestion that her son had deserted them. Eyes turned towards Decembrius, curious as to where the red-haired werewolf would claim to live. This was his first visit to a council meeting. Decembrius remained silent.

“Perhaps,” said Dominil, “instead of retreating every time we suffer some blow from the guild, we should seek to advance.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean take the fight to them. Go where they’re strongest, and destroy them.”

“You want to send werewolves flooding down to London to take on the guild?” asked Baron MacPhee. The baron was a very large werewolf, particularly in girth, who spent most of his time at council meetings wishing they were over so he could get around to eating the stags that were roasting in the kitchens. “That’s a sure way to get us killed and probably discovered by the rest of the world. We’ve depended on our discretion for centuries, and I don’t see any reason to change it just because that idiot Ruraich got himself killed.” Ruraich hadn’t been that popular with the barons. The MacPhees, MacGregors, and MacAllisters had never liked the way the head of the MacAndrises had continually pushed for more influence.

“I’m damned if I’ll risk my clan in London for the sake of Ruraich MacAndris,” agreed Baron MacAllister.

“If the guild keeps growing in strength, who’s to say they won’t attack us here?” asked Dominil.

“Do you expect them to grow in strength?” asked Markus.

Dominil did. Everything she’d seen of the guild’s files and records led her to believe that they were still recruiting. “There are a lot of werewolf hunters in Europe who are looking for employment. The guild will pay them well and give them the opportunity to fight against the MacRinnalchs. That’s a powerful incentive. If we don’t take care, we’ll find ourselves faced with a strong opponent right on our doorstep. We should stop them now.”

Dominil found little support. Though Markus seemed interested—to the annoyance of his mother—few others were prepared to countenance such a plan of action.

“The hunters will never come here,” said Lucia. “They’d die if they did, and they know it.”

There was general agreement round the table. Dominil looked in vain to her fellow London-dweller Thrix for support. Thrix had her mind on other things, mostly Captain Easterly, who’d succeeded in sweeping her off her feet with his cartons of takeout food and the single, battered flower. Thrix felt a glow of happiness that even a visit to Castle MacRinnalch couldn’t extinguish.

I’m fed up chasing Kalix all over London,” complained William, lowering his vast bulk onto the old couch. “It’s impossible. She’s got no scent, and when you get near the place she lives, you get lost. Face it, unless we just happen to run into her in the street, we’ll never catch her.” William seemed almost willing to give up the chase. Rhona was also wavering.

Duncan, the eldest, railed at them. “What sort of werewolves are you? We’re not giving up. She killed Fergus. When your brother is killed, you don’t ignore it, you take revenge. And if that’s not enough for you, Marwanis is still offering her reward.” Duncan cursed his siblings, and Decembrius for betraying them. “He should have led us to her. Now he’s trailing around after her like a puppy.”

“Maybe Marwanis will find out something,” said Rhona. Marwanis had hired an investigator to check the entry rolls of London colleges, thinking that Kalix might be found that way.

“We tried looking at colleges. We couldn’t find her,” protested William.

“We got bored halfway through. Maybe Marwanis will do better,” said Duncan.

There was a heavy knocking at the door. The Douglas-MacPhees paused and looked at each other. They received few visitors and were suspicious of callers. William tramped through the hallway to see who it was, while Duncan and Rhona prepared for trouble. Recently they’d become more involved in the criminal underworld in London, and that inevitably brought enemies.

William arrived back with a parcel in his hand.

“What is it?”

“Our Deep Purple boxed set from Amazon.”