Martin Millar - Lonely Werewolf Girl (70 page)

"I think he'll be there," said Dominil. "He's been watching
you closely enough. I'll speak to him."

Kalix was grateful. Dominil turned her head sharply. She'd
sensed another werewolf entering the bar. It was Decembrius. He caught
sight of them and walked to their table. His red hair was wet, though
slicked back as it was, the style remained unaffected. He wore
sunglasses like Kalix's and a long black leather coat not unlike
Dominil's.

"May I sit down?" he said, politely.

Kalix bared her teeth. The last time she'd seen Decembrius
he'd been pointing a gun at her.

"But I avoided shooting you," said Decembrius, as if reading
her thoughts.

He took off his shades. Dominil observed that Decembrius's
pupils were slightly enlarged. That, and something about his manner,
made her think for a moment that he was attracted to her. Dominil was
interested in the notion. Decembrius was not unattractive. Even a hint
of a relationship with him would outrage Sarapen. As she continued to
study him, Dominil quickly perceived that she was not the object of his
desire. Decembrius was doing his best to conceal it, but he was
attracted to Kalix. Dominil felt mildly irritated, but dismissed it
quickly.

Kalix sat in silent discomfort. Dominil asked Decembrius what
he was doing here.

"Looking for entertainment," replied Decembrius. He took one
of their leaflets from his pocket. "I found this on the pavement."

"Then you'd better run home and report it to your master,"
said Dominil.

"Sarapen already knows about the gig," said Decembrius.

"I do not imagine the music would be to his taste."

"No, I don't see him spending a lot of time listening to Yum
Yum Sugary Snacks," agreed Decembrius. "Are they any good?"

"They are excellent," replied Dominil. "But your presence here
is unwelcome. Leave."

Decembrius showed no inclination to leave. He put his hand in
his pocket.

"If you're intending to produce a gun, I'll break your neck
before you can use it," said Dominil, calmly.

Decembrius drew out a packet of cigarettes with an expression
of exaggerated innocence, and lit one.

"Maybe you should cancel the gig," he said.

"Why?"

"You won't be safe."

"Are you concerned for our safety?"

Decembrius shrugged.

"There's no real need to fight. Sarapen will be Thane soon
enough, whatever happens in London."

"If Sarapen comes to the gig I'll kill him!" exploded Kalix,
so loudly that the people at the next table looked over with interest.

"Or he might kill you," said Decembrius, and gazed at her.
Kalix glared back at him angrily. She hadn't forgotten his mocking
words when he'd interrupted her encounter with Gawain. If he made
another sneering remark like that she'd attack him. Though Decembrius
didn't seem to be here to mock her. She didn't know why he was here. He
stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and rose smoothly to his feet.

"I don't think you should go to the gig," he said, to Kalix.
"It's not safe."

With that he departed, leaving Kalix puzzled.

"Why did he come here?" she wondered.

"The poor way you treat yourself has dulled your werewolf
senses," answered Dominil.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Decembrius doesn't want you killed, apparently.
Couldn't you sense his attraction to you?"

Kalix was bewildered. It was always puzzling to Kalix that
anyone would find her attractive.

"I don't think you're right," she ventured.

Dominil almost smiled.

"I am right. Congratulations. You've made a conquest."

Not liking that her hair had gone stringy from the rain,
Dominil went off to brush it before they handed out more leaflets,
leaving Kalix perplexed, and not at all pleased that Decembrius found
her attractive.

189

Moonglow dragged herself into college. For the first time in
her life she was behind with her work. Only two weeks ago she couldn't
have imagined this happening. Now, with her intense misery over Markus,
she found it almost impossible to study. The freezing rain and sleet
that assailed her on her way to college was nearly enough to send her
home again, and she had to summon all her reserves of energy just to
reach the building.

Moonglow's life seemed to be getting worse. The pain over
Markus was not diminishing and now Jay hated her as well. He had
finally called round to her flat, demanding to know why Moonglow hadn't
been phoning him. Moonglow told Jay the truth. She was in no state to
lie convincingly. Anyway, Moonglow didn't really want to lie. She tried
to say she was sorry but Jay was too irate to listen. He shouted at
her, calling her names which Moonglow was surprised to hear from her
once gentle boyfriend. Then he marched furiously out of her life.

In Sumerian history the Professor noticed her lack of
concentration. Thinking it might be a good idea to encourage her, he
asked Moonglow a simple question about the city of Nineveh. Moonglow
didn't answer. Instead she picked up her bag and ran out of the room in
tears. The Professor was embarrassed as his other students looked
accusingly at him, as if it was his fault for picking on Moonglow.

The canteen was quiet. Moonglow sat on a chair by the window
that looked out onto the Thames and tried to compose herself. Other
people coped with unhappy love affairs. She should be able to as well.
Moonglow tried to make it easier by hating Markus but it was useless.
She couldn't hate him. She kept thinking how glorious he'd been as they
walked round the art gallery, and afterwards when he took her home.

"Yes, it is very sad," came a voice Moonglow didn't recognise.
She looked up. Facing her was a very striking woman, a little older
than her, perhaps twenty-one or so. She had dazzling blonde hair and
her eyes were deep green, quite startling in their way.

"What?" mumbled Moonglow.

"It is very sad to be discarded," said the glamourous woman.
Her accent was peculiar, not one that Moonglow had ever heard before.

"What do you mean?"

"To be left by a lover. It is the most tragic thing in this
world, or any world."

Moonglow stared at her.

"Who are you?"

"You may call me Kabachetka," replied the woman, rather
grandly. "Would you like him back?"

"Who?"

Princess Kabachetka chuckled, though her laugh was so low and
muted it sounded almost like the purring of a cat.

"You know who I mean. Markus MacRinnalch."

"How do you know about him?" demanded Moonglow.

"I know a great deal about the MacRinnalchs. A most vigorous
clan of werewolves. And I would agree that Markus is one of the most
beautiful. Would you like him back?"

Moonglow should have stood up and left. She'd had enough
experience of the MacRinnalchs by now to realise that it wasn't a good
idea to discuss their affairs with a stranger. Somehow she didn't feel
like leaving.

"Could you bring him back?"

The Princess leaned forward, and smiled seductively at
Moonglow.

"Yes. I could. But first, please tell me about Malveria's
clothes."

190

The Fire Queen presented the Enchantress with a small cedar
box, inlaid with gold.

"I thought you might like this. A good receptacle for those
sorcerous herbs which need to breathe."

It was a beautiful item. The Enchantress was rather surprised.
Gift-giving was not something that Malveria often did.

"From the realm of the Hiyasta?"

"No, Camden Market," said Malveria. "Though the place is full
of unpleasant stalls selling quite shocking garments, I discovered that
there were several more agreeable shops in the side streets. Do you
like it?"

"It's lovely. Thank you."

"I was shamed into the purchase by my idiot niece," admitted
Malveria. "She seemed to think it necessary to buy presents."

Malveria's frankness made Thrix smile.

"I was rather taken aback by her eagerness to purchase gifts.
A most un-Hiyasta like quality, though only to be expected from the
sort of dismal girl who is now experimenting with thirty shades of nail
varnish, and wondering if it might be a good idea to grow more fingers.
She bought presents for the daughter of the First Minister, for Kalix,
and for me. As I was paying for all this, it was perhaps not the most
unexpected gift one has ever received, but I appreciated the thought."

"What did she buy you?" asked Thrix.

"A most unsuitable necklace comprising several small axes on a
chain. However, I count myself fortunate to have escaped without
receiving a sturdy pair of motorcycle boots."

"It sounds like you had a good day," said Thrix, smiling.

"A good day?" Malveria shuddered. "You quite misunderstand me.
Walking around that endless market with Agrivex was most exhausting, I
assure you. And do not forget the additional stress caused by the
knowledge that every time she halted, it was to buy some even more
appalling garment or vile trinket."

Malveria winced at the memory, and gratefully accepted both
coffee and whisky from Thrix, who took the bottle from her office
cupboard and poured large shots for them both. Thrix had taken her
share of large shots in the past few days.

"Agrivex further embarrassed me by her chosen apparel,"
continued Malveria. "I know it is hard to believe, but she went out for
the day dressed in pyjamas and boots, barely covered by an elderly
jacket."

Malveria winced again, and sipped her whisky.

"The pyjamas have cats on them. I am informed that these cats
belong to an organisation called Hello Kitty. Where she obtained them I
do not know, but it ranks among the most perturbing things my niece has
ever done."

"Does Hello Kitty offend you? Isn't it rather cute?"

"Cuteness is not encouraged among the Hiyasta," explained
Malveria. "In fact, the concept is virtually unknown. One dreads to
think what the Empress Asaratanti would say were she to learn that my
niece is prancing around in Hello Kitty pyjamas. For a war-like nation,
it is most unsuitable."

The Fire Queen shook her head sadly.

"Truly, Agrivex must be the least war-like Hiyasta ever born.
No doubt it was profoundly misguided ever to consider adopting her as
niece, and will eventually lead me into disgrace with my subjects. When
they learn of her ridiculous pyjamas, they will express their outrage
by storming the palace."

Thrix laughed.

"But you had a good day with her?"

"I don't admit it was a good day. But the foolish niece was
certainly cheered. After I bought her a hideous T-shirt featuring some
frightful music band, she actually held my hand as we progressed to the
next market stall."

The Fire Queen sat upright in her chair with the air of a
woman throwing off her lesser cares to concentrate on more important
matters.

"Two days ago you said you hoped to be nearing completion…?"

"I'm still nearing it," said Thrix.

"I can tell you have been busy," said Malveria, pointedly. "So
busy you have neglected to properly attend to the spells you use to
conceal Gawain's aura. You have not managed to end the relationship?"

The Enchantress sighed, then shook her head, and looked close
to despair. Malveria struggled to be understanding.

"Dearest Enchantress, I can, with some strain, sympathise with
you. You have the terrible passion which cannot be denied. And though
it may lead you into any number of dreadful fates, there is perhaps
nothing to be done about it."

She looked Thrix in the eye.

"I'm serious about the dreadful fates. I do not just say this
because your rampant passion is delaying my clothes. If you continue
this dalliance with Gawain, it will end badly, of that you may be sure."

Thrix was uncomfortable, but didn't contradict Malveria. From
the first time she'd slept with Gawain she'd envisaged it coming to a
bad ending. Why she was still doing it, she couldn't explain. Not
wishing to dwell on the subject, the Enchantress told Malveria that her
ball gown was almost ready. The Queen leapt from her chair in
excitement.

"Let me see me the garment!"

Thrix buzzed for Ann, asking her to bring the dress. Malveria
exam-ined the gown. She pursed her lips. It was obvious she wasn't
satisfied.

"It is a beautifully cut dress. But is it not rather plain?"

The ball gown, though lavish in the way of hoops, layers and
lacing, was mainly white. Malveria had expected something more
extravagant.

"Wait till you try it on," said Thrix.

From the disappointed look on Malveria's face as she was laced
into the dress it was clear she thought that the Enchantress had let
her down. This was not the ball gown to dazzle her rivals. She turned
to the huge mirror on the wall.

"Well, Enchantress, it is pleasant enough, but - "

Thrix spoke the spell to activate the dress. It fluttered
gently, as if caught in a light breeze. It was a pleasing effect, but
even better were the large, shimmering fairy wings which appeared at
the back of the gown. The Fire Queen gasped as they folded themselves
gently around her, shimmering with every colour of the rainbow. They
were translucent, delicate, and utterly beautiful. Malveria's
appearance was suddenly transformed from cynical supermodel into
radiant fairy queen.

"It's… it's…" she gasped, but was unable to get her words out.
Abruptly she fell over. The Fire Queen had fainted from pleasure.

Ann looked down at her.

"Is that good?"

"I hope so," replied Thrix.

She bent down and gently rubbed Malveria's temples to bring
her round. As Malveria revived there was a quietly ecstatic expression
on her face. She hobbled to the mirror.

"It's so beautiful," she gasped, and fell over again.

Thrix frowned.

"She'd better get used to it before the ball. Unless fainting
with pleasure is acceptable at a Hiyasta social event. Which it might
be, I suppose."