Martin Millar - Lonely Werewolf Girl (52 page)

Sarapen wondered where Dominil was. Her escape had cost him
the lives of several of his guards but he admired her for her courage.
Kalix too, in a way. There was no denying her fighting spirit. But he
would certainly kill her now. No one could be allowed to live after
slaughtering his followers. If Sarapen did not exact vengeance his
status would suffer.

He arrived in Limehouse and made his way along the curiously
old-fashioned alleyway that led to MacDoig's. Rats scuttled away from
Sarapen, sensing that he was a creature to be avoided. If the rats
showed nervousness at Sarapen's approach, the MacDoig did not. Sarapen
was displeased to find himself once more confronting a human who was
aware of his reputation yet, like Zatek, showed no signs of unease.
Obviously the Merchant also believed himself to be well protected.

"Come in, Sarapen MacRinnalch. Will you have a drink with me?"

Sarapen shook his head. The Merchant seemed disappointed.

"Are you sure? You won't mind if I have one myself? It's a
shame my son has just stepped out on business, he'd have been pleased
to meet you. What can I do for you?"

"The protection you gave to Zatek. I want it."

MacDoig stopped grinning.

"Sorcerous protection? That's not a thing I ever expected to
hear from you, if you don't mind me saying so, Sarapen MacRinnalch."

Sarapen frowned. Already he was feeling that this was an
affront to his dignity and wished that Decembrius had been in London so
that he could have made the visit instead.

"I need something to protect me from prying eyes."

"Who's prying eyes, might I ask?" said the Merchant, and
sipped from a large tumbler of whisky. The MacDoig was as fond of
whisky as the MacRinnalchs, and though he had no access to the
werewolves' own excellent malt, he had a cellar full of other fine old
bottles.

"I am not here to discuss my business with you, Merchant."

"Of course, of course. But if you need some protection, I'll
need some idea of what you're up against."

Sarapen considered this. It probably wouldn't do any harm to
tell MacDoig. It was likely he knew most of the background to the
family feud already, unfortunately.

"The Enchantress. And the Hiyasta Queen."

"Ah." MacDoig nodded, and tapped his silver headed cane
lightly on the ancient floorboards of his shop. "The Enchantress. I did
hear some rumours that things were not altogether well between you.
Aye, she's a powerful woman, Thrix MacRinnalch. And the Hiyasta Queen,
she's another. It takes a lot of sorcery to protect a man from those
two."

A sly expression settled on MacDoig's face.

"A lot of expensive sorcery."

Sarapen took a purse from inside his great black coat. The
purse contained gold, to which the Merchant was very partial. Even
though his business now encompassed the modern world of the stock
market and the internet, MacDoig was old enough to remember when all
transactions were done in coin of the realm. Gold had never lost its
attraction for him.

"Let's talk about sorcery," said Sarapen.

139

Realising that she had rather neglected affairs of state
recently, the Fire Queen summoned First Minister Xakthan to her throne
room. He arrived wearing his finest blue robe and carrying the silver
mace that denoted his rank. Thanks to the application of some sorcerous
surgery, flames no longer rose from one ear. He looked a good deal more
symmetrical. Malveria was pleased with the result, and so would Xakthan
be, when it all healed properly, and the pain subsided.

Xakthan was surprised to be asked for a detailed description
of the state of the nation. Queen Malveria was being rather
inconsistent these days, he noted, though he did not disapprove.
Xakthan was far too loyal to disapprove of anything Malveria did. She
had saved his life on numerous occasions during the wars, and rewarded
him very handsomely afterwards. Malveria listened intently while he
described the affairs of each of her ministries. When he finished,
Malveria nodded, though Xakthan noted that the Queen did not look
particularly happy.

"Does this not please you?"

"It pleases me well, Xakthan. But you know, I am occasionally
bored by the lack of stirring events. We grew up fighting, and
sometimes it does not sit so well, these long years of peace."

"It is a consequence of your excellent rule, Mighty Queen."

"It is. And of your excellent ministry. I apologise for
shouting at you recently."

Xakthan was overwhelmed to hear Malveria apologise to him, and
hardly knew how to respond.

"I have been spending time in the human realm," said Malveria.
"Too much time perhaps, but I find it diverting. They are often amusing
creatures."

Xakthan, with his fire elemental's traditional dislike of
humans, couldn't quite understand this. The only humans he ever
encountered were Malveria's devotees, and they never seemed amusing.
Always very serious, and far too fond of chanting.

"I don't mean my devotees," explained Malveria. "I have
encountered some other young humans who I find very funny, and even
charming. And the MacRinnalch werewolves, who are not funny or
charming, but are full of intrigue, stratagems, and violence."

Xakthan was troubled.

"I admire intrigue, stratagems and violence, Mighty Queen. But I've never regarded werewolves as honourable creatures,
particularly the MacRinnalchs. They would stab you in the back, every
last one."

"Well, our last battle with the MacRinnalchs was some hundreds
of years ago," Malveria pointed out. "The world in which they live has
changed substantially in that time. Really, Xakthan, you would hardly
recognise it these days. The humans have such machines, machines of
doing and machines of thinking. And such weapons, and such
entertainments, and such clothes. I do not understand how a race which
lives for such a short time makes such changes, but they do. As if each
human, living for only a few years, must invent something to make their
world different."

"And do the werewolves invent things?"

"No," said Malveria. "They do not. That is part of their
problem. Some of the MacRinnalchs want to join in with the modern
world, and some of them don't. There is strife between the modern and
the old."

"Are you involved in this strife?" enquired Xakthan.

"To some degree. But only because of my liking for the
Werewolf Enchantress. Do not wrinkle your brow, First Minister. You
know that the Enchantress has provided me with wonderful clothes which
have brought me great happiness, and increased my status."

Malveria described the struggle for the Thaneship of the
MacRinnalchs. Her First Minister listened intently.

"If you had no involvement, Queen, who would win?"

"Sarapen," replied Malveria. "His enemies have underestimated
his power, particularly his mother. Sarapen is not a werewolf who can
be put off by the vote of a council."

Malveria paused.

"Which is interesting. Sarapen is, after all, the werewolf who
sets most store by tradition, and clan law. MacRinnalch law dictates
that the decision of their Great Council is final."

"But he will not accept it," said Xakthan. "Neither would we,
in his position."

"Indeed we would not," agreed Malveria, and smiled,
remembering all the pronouncements and judgements that had been handed
down against her when she was an outlaw princess.

"It all comes down to power in the end, I suppose. As it is
with the Hiyasta, so it is with the MacRinnalchs."

"I don't like the sound of this younger son Markus," said
Xakthan. "He seems an unsuitable leader. You say he dresses in fancy
clothes?"

"I dress in fancy clothes, First Minister."

"It is appropriate now you're Queen. When we slept in caves by
day and fought by night, we wore whatever rags we had left after
battle."

Xakthan's eyes showed some fondness for his memories.

"You are right," agreed Malveria. "But his mother believes
Markus is better suited to leading the clan in the modern age, and she
might have a point."

Xakthan wondered if Malveria cared about the MacRinnalchs. She
admitted that she didn't care a great deal, as long as Thrix was safe.

"Though I have some interest in another. Thrix's sister Kalix,
the youngest of the ruling family. I saved her life."

"Why?"

"As a favour to Thrix."

Malveria halted.

"No, that is not quite true. It was more as a favour to a
young girl, Moonglow by name. And I did extract an entertaining price
from her."

Malveria explained her price to Xakthan, who nodded his
understanding. A tormented human was always entertaining, he had to
agree.

"But will this Moonglow ever really love Daniel? He sounds
quite unappealing."

"He is appealing in his own way, I think. Moonglow may yet
fall in love with him, and then of course she will be tormented, as I
have forbidden her ever to have him."

"Of course," continued Malveria, frowning deeply. "My scheme
has not been helped by the appalling Agrivex."

The First Minister was surprised. He knew Vex well. Only last
week she had stormed into a meeting of the ministers of state,
demanding they pass a law to substantially increase her clothes
allowance, and another law to have her history tutor thrown into the
great volcano. Neither had been approved. Agrivex had then stormed out
with threats and curses, spoiling the effect by tripping over a small
table, banging her elbow quite painfully and bursting into tears.

"You asked Agrivex to help in your scheme?"

"Yes. And I know what you're thinking. Any plan which involves
the foolish young Agrivex is doomed to failure. But in the human world,
she does not seem so unsuitable a candidate for turning Daniel's head.
I will tell her to keep trying. Once Daniel is involved with another,
Moonglow will become jealous, I am sure of it."

The Queen gazed into the distance for a while.

"When I saw Vex and Kalix together I felt old. Do I look old
to you?"

Xakthan had fielded this question many times in the past.

"Mighty Queen, you look like the fresh-faced daughter of a
wealthy nobleman, a young girl who has never suffered a care in the
world."

Malveria was pleased.

"Really?"

"I promise."

"Good. But be sure to tell the gatherers of my rejuvenating
water to take extra care. With the MacRinnalch Clan in such uproar,
they must use great caution when entering Colburn Wood."

140

Dominil spent only one night at Moonglow's. On hearing news of
the attack on the twins' house she insisted on returning there as soon
as possible. Verasa had called both Thrix and Dominil, informing them
of events.

"These vile creatures," raged the Mistress of the Werewolves.
"The Douglas-MacPhees should have been put down long ago. Their father
was an evil werewolf and they are no better."

Apparently the twins were unharmed, but were shaken and
intimidated. Dominil knew she had to get back there immediately. Her
injuries were severe and Thrix was convinced that she should rest for
longer but Dominil wouldn't hear of it.

"I will recover swiftly."

Thrix herself was too busy to look after the twins so she
dropped the subject. Moonglow was more concerned. She really didn't
think that Dominil was in a fit state to return home.

"Let her go," said Daniel to his friend, privately. "She's a
werewolf. They recover fast. Anyway Dominil makes me nervous."

Moonglow knew what he meant. There was something unsettling
about Dominil. She didn't smile. Her dark eyes bored into a person and
never seemed to soften. If she was in pain from her injuries she wasn't
admitting it. She spent the night on the couch in her werewolf form,
renewing her strength, then limped into Daniel's car to be driven back
to Camden. Before she left, she spoke to Kalix, quite formally.

"Thank you for your assistance, cousin. I appreciate it."

With that she departed.

"Thank you for your assistance?" said Moonglow. "Is that all
she could say?"

"She was never chatty," explained Kalix.

After being congratulated by everyone for rescuing Dominil,
Kalix had seemed pleased, but embarrassed, unsure how to react. She'd
never been the hero before. It was good but it made her feel
self-conscious so she retreated to her room to write in her journal.

Dominil had been spending part of her time in the apartment
provided by Verasa. She decided it would be better if she now moved in
with the twins to protect them, even though this didn't sit that well
with her. Dominil found it trying to be with them for too long. Nothing
she could do could make them act like civilised werewolves.

The house in Camden was still a shambles after the attack.
Beauty and Delicious had made half-hearted attempts to clear up the
mess, but had become depressed and given up. When Dominil returned, the
sisters' gloom lifted and they greeted her enthusiastically.

"We thought Sarapen was going to kill you."

"I am fine," said Dominil. "Were you hurt by the
Douglas-MacPhees?"

"No, but they wrecked a lot of stuff."

"So I can see."

"Can you organise a cleaner again?"

Dominil said she would. She was relieved to see the twins
apparently unharmed. Not in as poor a state as she had expected, given
what had happened. Beauty picked up her guitar and posed dramatically
on top of an armchair.

"We're back. Yum Yum Sugary Snacks rise like a - " she halted.
"What is it things rise like?"

"A phoenix from the ashes, usually," said Dominil.

"Excellent. Like a phoenix from the ashes. We wrote a new
song. Want to hear it?"

Dominil sighed. Musicians were always writing new songs and
they always seemed to think you wanted to hear them.

141