Martin Millar - Lonely Werewolf Girl (17 page)

Verasa had been to see Dulupina.

"She's still concise when she wants to be, despite her age,
I'll grant her that," reported Verasa. "Anyway, we can discount her
vote."

Markus looked pointedly at the Mistress of the Werewolves.

"I repeat, we can discount her vote. I will not go along with
her wishes. I'll find another way to get the votes we need."

Great Mother Dulupina had informed Verasa that she was
outraged the clan had not brought Kalix to justice. Although the Great
Council had decided that the young werewolf should be brought back to
Castle MacRinnalch, nothing had been done about it.

"She killed my son," stated Dulupina. "I won't vote for anyone
as Thane until Kalix has been dealt with."

"In other words," said Markus to his mother. "Whoever brings
back her heart gets Dulupina's vote."

"That's about it," replied Verasa.

Again feeling that her son was looking at her a little
questioningly, Verasa spoke angrily.

"I won't sanction the killing of my youngest daughter."

"I've heard you wish her dead," said Markus.

"Maybe in a moment of anger. But I will not have Great Mother
Dulupina or anyone else tell me that my daughter must be killed."

Verasa could see a positive side.

"At least she's not going to vote for Sarapen. She'll abstain
again which makes it impossible for Sarapen to get the nine votes he
needs."

Markus was doubtful about his mother's calculations.

"What if Sarapen promises Dulupina he will kill Kalix? Might
she not cast her vote for him?"

"I don't think so. Even if she did, he'd still be one vote
short and the only free vote now belongs to Thrix. Yes, well may you
scowl, Markus. A great shame you get on so badly with your sister.
Fortunately for us she's getting on equally badly with Sarapen. Did you
know he swept her designs onto the floor?"

"I was there when it happened mother, or just after."

"Then you should have picked them up. Thrix will not tolerate
interference in her business, for which I respect her."

"I thought her fashion business annoyed you?"

"It only annoys me that she must distance herself from the
family so. Now you must try and make things up with her."

Markus promised to do what he could, without much conviction.
As tonight was the night before the full moon, Markus was expecting the
council meeting to be a good deal stormier than the last one. Verasa
saw that her son was troubled.

"Don't worry. Even if Dulupina and Thrix decide to vote
against you, Sarapen will still not get his nine votes. Baron
MacAllister won't be at the meeting. He has unexpectedly fallen ill."

"How did you manage that?"

Verasa and Baron MacAllister had come to terms on the loan
that he required. The Baron was heading back to his own keep, claiming
illness. If the election was not resolved and another meeting was
called next month, he would then vote for Markus. The Mistress of the
Werewolves was already swinging things in favour of her younger son.
She asked him if he'd found out anything about the twins.

"As far as I can see they don't have a band any more. I read a
message on a music forum wondering where they'd disappeared to. I also
found a review of one of their last gigs. Apparently it was a shamble.
Both sisters kept falling over, and one of them broke her guitar."

"Broke her guitar? How?"

"She jumped on it."

Verasa was perplexed.

"Was she annoyed with her guitar? Had it failed to function?"

"I don't think so."

"Then why would she destroy it?"

"Part of her stage act, perhaps."

"How odd," said Verasa, who couldn't imagine destroying a
perfectly good instrument. "Of course they do have a great deal of
money. She can buy a new one. But it sounds like they're making no real
progress. Broken guitars and falling over onstage do not amount to
much, I imagine. Presuming they wish to be successful, what would you
say they most needed?"

Markus considered this.

"A responsible adviser, perhaps, to manage their affairs?
Someone who knows the business and doesn't get intoxicated?"

The Mistress of the Werewolves nodded.

"Yes, I agree. A manager might be just what they need. Rather
awkward, given that it would really not be safe for anyone who isn't a
werewolf to be closely involved with them. I do worry terribly about
them giving themselves away, and bringing the Avenaris Guild down on
their heads. But I'll think about it, and see who might be suitable."

There was a knock on the door and a servant announced that
Dominil was here. Verasa noticed how her son drew himself up to his
full height as Dominil entered the room. It was natural enough. Few
male werewolves could resist the impulse to show themselves off to
their best advantage when the icily beautiful Dominil arrived.

50

Tupan's daughter Dominil had a powerful intellect and a cold
demeanour. Her voice was not harsh but it was no longer warmed by the
clan's Scottish accent. Dominil had discarded her accent at Oxford
university some years ago, where she gained a double first in Classics
and Philosophy. The neutral tone of her voice made her stand out at the
castle, but Dominil would have stood out anywhere, with her high
cheekbones, large dark eyes and long snow-white hair. She was slender
like the rest of her generation of werewolves, but a little taller, and
a good deal colder. Verasa still remembered the day when Dominil, then
seven years old, had broken her leg in a fall in the woods and
resolutely refused to cry, not even wincing while Dr Angus MacRinnalch
examined the fracture though it surely must have been painful.

Dominil had followed this pattern through the rest of her
life. She showed no pleasure on her admittance to Oxford and neither
did she appear particularly pleased when she graduated with honour.
Nothing seemed to excite her emotions. The younger female werewolves
would routinely be stared at in the street because of their beauty but
Dominil suffered this in extremis. As she strode along the pavement,
tall, white-haired and dazzlingly beautiful, everyone would turn to
stare. What Dominil thought of this, or if she even noticed, no one
knew. No one really knew much of what Dominil thought. She had spent
her youth at the castle, left for Oxford, returned four years later and
now passed most of her time in her chambers in the east wing, with her
books and her computers. She had no friends that anyone knew of. She
seemed close to her father Tupan but if this closeness involved
anything like warmth, it was hidden from outside eyes.

It was rumoured that she had an affair, or at least a liaison,
with Sarapen. They now disliked each other but Dominil never showed any
sign of discomfort when Sarapen made one of his frequent visits to the
castle.

Verasa was not entirely ignorant of Dominil's tastes. Few
goings on in or around the castle were hidden from her. Verasa knew,
for instance, that Dominil had taken various human lovers while at
Oxford and had carried on the practice since returning home. Dominil
had formed temporary associations with several young men in the
neighbouring towns. She kept this to herself, and it was almost a
secret, save for Verasa's inquisitiveness. The Mistress of the
Werewolves could not help wondering about the nature of Dominil's
relationships with the young men. As far as she knew, none of them had
actually died, but several of them were no longer around. Their
families believed that they had left the district but Verasa wondered
if their bones might be lying at the bottom of a peat marsh on the
MacRinnalch estates.

Markus was a few years older than Dominil. Though not close
they were on reasonably good terms. He greeted her politely, inquired
after her health, then left the chamber to visit Thrix, as his mother
had requested. Though Markus was not overly pleased to be ordered out
of a meeting, he was nonetheless not too displeased to be excused from
making small talk with Dominil. There was something about her company
that he found very wearing. He sometimes got the impression she looked
down on him. But there again, Dominil might look down on everyone.

Verasa offered Dominil wine which she accepted. Dominil had a
liking for wine, and the clan whisky.

"I am so pleased you nominated Markus for Thane," began
Verasa. "I'm sure you agree that Markus will make a - "

Dominil held up her hand.

"Please, let us not pretend I am a supporter of Markus. I
regard him as quite unsuitable for Thane. But I'll continue to oppose
Sarapen."

"So at least we know where we stand," said Verasa dryly.
Already she could feel the oncoming full moon and she was trying not to
let the excitement interfere with her judgement. She wondered if
Dominil felt the same thrill when the wolf nights arrived. Possibly
not. It would be no great surprise to learn that the werewolf state
left her unmoved.

When Dominil transformed she remained white, with the mane of
a great snow wolf. It was a spectacular sight, one that had rarely been
seen in the clan. Verasa could remember the first time it happened,
when Dominil was no more than three weeks old. When she had first
transformed into a baby werewolf and her coat turned out to be white,
the whole family had been entranced. Tupan had been delighted. There
was nothing unlucky about a white-haired werewolf. On the contrary, it
was so rare as to be regarded as a good omen. But if Dominil was a good
omen for anything, that thing had yet to arrive.

"Do you feel any concern about remaining at Castle
MacRinnalch?" Verasa asked Dominil.

"Why should I?"

"It may be uncomfortable now that you've come out in
opposition to Sarapen."

"I do not fear Sarapen," replied Dominil. "Besides my father
will remain close to the castle."

Verasa wondered if he would. Tupan had his own affairs to look
after. The Mistress of the Werewolves realised she was not as confident
about there being no violence as she had claimed when speaking to
Markus. It would suit her cause very badly if Sarapen were to dispose
of Dominil.

"Sarapen will kill Kalix," said Dominil, abruptly.

"Kalix has proved remarkably hard to kill so far."

"He was not so concerned before. Now that Dulupina has made
her thoughts clear he'll certainly kill her."

"Kalix is his own sister," pointed out Verasa.

"Sarapen won't let that stop him. He wants Dulupina's vote.
Your eldest son is quite without feelings."

Verasa was tempted to point out that in comparison to Dominil,
Sarapen had plenty of feelings, but she remained silent. She wondered
what motivated Dominil. One of the very few things she could ever
remember Dominil saying about her herself was that she was bored. That
had been some years ago, during a vacation from university. Was it
possible, wondered Verasa, that this most intelligent and beautiful
werewolf still suffered from boredom? There was a knock at the door.
One of Verasa's servants entered.

"Gawain MacRinnalch has been sighted on the outlying estates,
Mistress."

"Gawain?"

This was most unexpected. Gawain? Ex-lover of Kalix? No one
had seen Gawain for three years. He had been banished by the Thane from
all the lands of the MacRinnalchs. By appearing anywhere near the
castle he ran the risk of death at the hands of the clan.

"Has he been approached?"

"No Mistress. We await your instructions."

"Keep him under observation," ordered the Mistress of the
Werewolves, calmly. "But don't approach him. On such a sombre occasion,
it will not do to have any unpleasantness."

51

Thrix was not surprised to find Markus at her door.

"Come in," she said. "I doubt you can offer me anything mother
hasn't already."

Thrix's laptop was open on the desk. She'd been busy writing
email to her office in London. She trusted her assistant Ann to look
after business for a few days but even so Thrix had to keep in touch.
She hadn't spent all these years building up her business to have it
interrupted by a funeral, even the Thane's.

Markus stood silently in the room, long enough for the silence
to become uncomfortable.

"Probably you should say something," said Thrix, eventually.

Markus remained silent. The Enchantress noted that her brother
was looking rather well. He was dressed in a black suit, finely
tailored. The severity of the suit against his slightly feminine
features made for an attractive contrast. She might have complimented
him on it, but clothing was something of a sensitive subject between
them.

"It's bright in here," said Markus, eventually.

"I used an illumination spell," replied Thrix. "I don't know
how you live in this gloomy place."

"The clan wouldn't like you using sorcery in the castle," said
Markus.

Thrix raised one eyebrow.

"Is that really the best you can do?"

"I was merely pointing out - "

"You were searching for some criticism which is what you
always do when I'm around. Really Markus, this is not what mother had
in mind when she sent you here."

"I'm not mother's servant," responded Markus, angrily. "And
you don't frighten me with your childish spells. If you think I've come
here to beg for your vote you're mistaken. I'm quite capable of
managing my life without help from you, golden-haired sister who is so
keen to abandon her family."

"I might be keen to abandon them but at least I don't assault
them. I heard about you attacking Kalix in daylight when she was weak.
That's a fine way of showing your regard for the family."

"I have good reason to dislike Kalix. And you helped her to
hide, contrary to the wishes of your family. You've never have had any
regard for us, Thrix."

Markus's voice was full of anger. Thrix shook her head.

"Markus. Will you stop this? I've told you often enough I
don't care a damn about what clothes you wear."