Martin Millar - Lonely Werewolf Girl (6 page)

The laudanum dulled the pain in her body but it wasn't enough
to take away her misery. She took another of her diazepam capsules. It
still wasn't enough. The depression led, as it often did, to a terrible
feeling of anxiety which she hated. Once the anxiety really set in
Kalix always feared that she would soon be insane. When it had her in
its grip, she always felt it would never go away. Finally, unable to
take any more, Kalix took out the small kitchen knife she carried in
her bag. She stared at her forearm for a few seconds then made a cut
just above her elbow. Blood flowed down her arm. Kalix immediately felt
a little better. She didn't really know why, but this always helped.
Comforted, she managed to drift off to sleep.

She slept fitfully, with bad dreams. She had terrifying images
of her family and distressing memories of Gawain.

"I will always love you," said Gawain, in her dream.

Kalix woke in tears because she knew it wasn't true. Gawain
was far away; no one knew where. The Thane had banished him for his
involvement with his daughter, an involvement that had started far too
young for the Thane's liking. Not that the Thane would have allowed
them to be together in any case. Gawain was not of a suitable class to
be allowed a relationship with the Thane's daughter. He came from a
respected werewolf family but even so he was not pure-blooded enough.
Gawain had one wholly human grandparent. It made him an unsuitable
partner for an aristocratic werewolf girl.

Gawain was strong, impervious to the elements, a skilled
hunter and frightened of no one. Kalix had always felt safe with him.
Yet hadn't he agreed to leave her too easily? Had he protested enough
when the Thane sent him away? Kalix stirred uncomfortably in her
drugged, stuporous state. Could he not have come back and rescued her
when she needed him?

Her mother Verasa told Kalix she should forget Gawain because
he would forget her soon enough. Kalix couldn't forget him. She loved
him madly, and always would.

The wound on her arm bled for a long time. Kalix had noticed
recently that her blood didn't seem to clot as quickly as it used to.
Some symptom of her poor health she supposed. Kalix didn't care. She
wished she might just bleed to death where she lay.

16

In the late evening the Mistress of the Werewolves and her
youngest son walked through Verasa's art gallery. Verasa had a very
fine collection of pictures, accumulated over the past two hundred
years. Markus noticed an empty space on the wall.

"Where's the Vermeer?"

"I lent it to the National Gallery."

Markus was surprised.

"Just because I'm Mistress of the Werewolves doesn't mean I
have no sense of duty to the wider public. It's the modern world dear,
we all have to make a contribution."

Markus was distracted from the paintings by the family
situation.

"If I bring Kalix back to the castle there will be trouble.
She's so unstable. What if she breaks free and attacks the Thane again?"

The Mistress of the Werewolves came very close to smiling.

"That would be very unfortunate…"

Verasa had let it be known, to those members of the clan from
whom the severity of the Thane's injuries could not be concealed, that
Kalix had pushed her father down a flight of stairs, while under the
influence of alcohol. The incident was supposed to have happened in
daylight while they were both in human form. This was a terrible
disgrace but the truth was worse. In reality Kalix had defeated the
Thane at night when they were both in werewolf form. She'd have killed
him if Sarapen and two of his servants had not come to his rescue. The
full shocking circumstances could never be revealed to the clan. The
Thane had to be respected, which he would not be if it were learned
that his youngest daughter had defeated him in combat.

The Thane, though old, was an extremely powerful werewolf.
Neither of his sons would have relished fighting him. Verasa was at a
loss to explain Kalix's abnormal strength. Of course, Kalix was the
only one of her children to be born at the time of the full moon, when
Verasa was herself in werewolf shape. This was unusual. Werewolf
mothers almost always gave birth while in human form. As a consequence
of Verasa being werewolf at the time, Kalix had actually been born in
her own werewolf shape, which was again extremely rare. Born as a
werewolf by a werewolf, under a full moon. Perhaps this had contributed
to her strength, though Verasa thought it was more probably a product
of her insanity. This, Verasa swore, did not come from her side of the
family.

The Thane's lack of emotion had alienated Verasa a long time
ago. Sensing the same nature in her oldest boy Sarapen, Verasa had
never warmed to him as she should. She had no qualms about planning to
have her younger son Markus declared Thane when it was time for the
succession. Succession to the Thaneship was rarely an entirely
straightforward affair. The history of the MacRinnalch Clan was full of
messy incidents.

It would take time for the Mistress of the Werewolves to bring
her plans to fruition. There were many votes on the Great Council that
would have to be won over before Markus could become Thane. Verasa
needed to be in control of as many elements as possible. A demented daughter running out of control in the streets of
London could not be tolerated.

"I'll look for her tonight," said Markus. "Is it absolutely
necessary that I bring her back alive?"

"It would be better," replied Verasa.

17

Thrix worked late into the night, preparing new outfits for
the Fire Queen. Models paraded before them and the Fire Queen squealed
with delight when she saw something she liked, which was often.

Thrix's regular models were by now used to some of her more
unconventional clients. They didn't mind. Thrix paid them very well,
and treated them civily. Possibly more civily than she treated most
people. The Enchantress had a sharp tongue and a somewhat impatient
nature. She rarely lost her temper with her own workforce, but there
were people in the industry who did not particularly like Thrix
MacRinnalch. She was too intelligent, too beautiful and too ambitious
to be universally popular.

Thrix's share of the family's great wealth was not nearly as
large as she would have liked. The family money was mostly under
Verasa's control and Verasa had never really supported her daughter's
ambitions in the fashion industry. For a long time Thrix had struggled
to pay the bills. In the last two years, this had changed. The business
was now beginning to pay dividends and with the extra income generated
by her work for Malveria, the Enchantress was no longer struggling. She
owned a comfortable apartment in the centre of town and had recently
made a down payment on a Mercedes.

Her wealth, beauty, and approaching success should have been
more than enough to land the Enchantress at least one good
relationship, but for some reason Thrix never managed to find a
boyfriend she liked.

"Can't you just kidnap someone?" suggested the Fire Queen.

"Not if I want to build a lasting relationship," explained
Thrix. The Fire Queen didn't really understand. There was much about
the human realm she didn't understand. As one of the great elemental
queens of nature, Malveria had human devotees all around the world, but
though the Queen appreciated their support, in reality she was almost
as vague about the norms of human relationships as she was about
plumbing.

"Is it because you are a werewolf and are required to go out
with another werewolf but find this difficult because you have always
tried to distance yourself from your clan?"

"That doesn't help," acknowledged the Enchantress. "But I'd
settle for a nice human who'd take me to dinner and not bore me by
talking about himself all the time."

Malveria nodded. This she could understand. Even in her realm,
the male fire spirits did tend to be full of themselves. Her
ladies-in-waiting were always complaining about it.

"Perhaps the more pleasant humans are intimidated by your
beauty," suggested the Fire Queen. "It is something I also suffer from,
naturally. My own fabulous attractiveness has often made suitors
tremble and shake but of course, I simply take whoever I please to be
my consort. You know, I had a visitor last week, a most handsome young
man, part elemental but with a little Elf in him, or possibly Fairy. He
had a glorious smile and some interesting tales of several realms.
Would you like to meet him?"

Thrix shook her head. Her experience of blind dates had never
been good. The conversation ended when Malveria was distracted by the
most beautiful pair of silver slippers and practically shot from her
chair with delight, a tiny flicker of flame appearing at the end of
each of her fingers. Thrix shot her a warning glance. It wouldn't do to
be upsetting the models by bursting into flames, and besides, there was
always the danger of damaging the clothes.

"I want a hundred pairs," yelled Malveria.

"I can give you four," said Thrix.

"Four will be satisfactory," said the Fire Queen.

18

Kalix was now dangerously weak. She almost never ate while in
human form but she was prevented from starving herself to death because
during the three nights around the full moon when she would change into
werewolf form whether she wanted to or not, the werewolf would eat.

As a werewolf, Kalix was still in control of her actions. She
did not lose her powers of rational thought. But there were
differences. In werewolf form, life never looked quite the same. Her
problems with eating would vanish and the wolf-Kalix would spend each
night gorging herself on whatever meat was available. Sometimes dogs
from alleys, sometimes the contents of butcher's shops which she would
enter by tearing the doors off. When she reverted back to her human
form, the memory of eating made her feel nauseated. She would make
herself vomit but it was too late to clear the food from her system.
The three night binge was always enough to give her the strength to
keep on living. The werewolf inside her was too strong to let her die.

Now, close to the full moon, Kalix had not eaten properly for
weeks. She was surviving on laudanum, tranquillisers, and the
occasional shot of alcohol, and her strength was almost gone.

Dawn filtered into the alley and Kalix woke with a start,
still struggling with her dreams. Without warning a hand gripped her
throat.

"Hello little sister."

It was Markus. Beautifully attired as always in a long
overcoat and a dark suit, his long curly chestnut hair tied back neatly
with a black ribbon. He picked Kalix up with one hand and threw her
across the alley. She crashed into the opposite wall and slumped
heavily to the ground. She attempted to rise but Markus was already
standing over her. He looked down at the skinny girl with contempt.

"Another bad day for the lonely werewolf girl," he said,
mockingly.

Kalix struggled to regain her feet. Markus put his foot on her
chest, crushing her to the ground.

"Should I take you back?" mused Markus, out loud, "What do you
think, lonely werewolf girl?"

"Don't call me that," snarled Kalix.

Markus laughed.

"Why not? Have you ever made a friend?"

He looked down, directly into her eyes. Kalix glared back at
him with loathing but she felt shame at his mockery.

"Is there a single werewolf or human who cares whether you're
alive or dead? Anyone to come to your rescue?"

Kalix still met his eyes, refusing to look away, but she had
no answer for her brother.

"The family wants you dead. The hunters want you dead. You
probably want yourself dead. Why are you still alive, lonely werewolf
girl?"

Markus leant on her more heavily and Kalix struggled to breath.

"Even your ill-bred lover doesn't care about you."

At the mention of Gawain, Kalix erupted in fury and managed to
heave herself free but as she scrambled to her feet Markus caught her
with a blow and she slumped once more to the ground. Her brother looked
at her with loathing.

"Do you realise the trouble you've caused us all, you foul
girl? I almost wish the Douglas-MacPhees had cut out your heart. I'd
cut it out myself if mother didn't want me to bring you back you alive."

Kalix, on her knees, sneered at him.

"And you always like to do what mother tells you, Markus."

Markus, angered, kicked out at her savagely, and Kalix fell to
the ground unconscious.

19

Daniel and Moonglow trundled slowly along the street in their
rented van. Moonglow was navigating; Daniel was driving. They halted at
a traffic light, where Moonglow struggled to read her map.

"Did that really happen today?" said Daniel, abruptly.

"It did."

"It was a startling experience."

"Very startling."

"I thought we coped well," said Daniel. "I mean, how many
people would have the presence of mind to offer a werewolf a pop-tart?"

Though meeting a werewolf had been an astonishing experience,
they hadn't discussed it as much as they might have, because, suffering
from the stress of packing and moving in secret, they'd had a prolonged
argument which left them barely talking to each other. Tense at the
thought of being caught by their landlord, Daniel had yet again found
himself criticising Moonglow's huge collection of scented candles. At
four in the morning it suddenly seemed unreasonable of her to own so
many.

"Who needs so much lavender scent?" he complained.

"I do," declared Moonglow, who was in no mood to take
criticism over a few candles. "The main reason for this experience
being hell on earth is your music collection."

Daniel had an enormous collection of CDs plus a healthy amount
of old records and tapes. He'd started collecting when he was nine and
never lost the habit.