Martin Millar - Lonely Werewolf Girl (74 page)

Dominil put on her long black leather coat. She checked her
hair in the mirror, brushing it down around her shoulders, then strode
silently out of the house. Outside it was snowing, and the streets were
quiet save for a few determined beggars around the tube station.
Dominil walked past them without a glance. She crossed over Camden High
Street and carried on up the road.

Pete, guitarist in Yum Yum Sugary Snacks, was surprised to
find Dominil at his door in the early hours of the morning.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Dominil.

There was snow on her shoulders and some flakes rested on her
brow, unmelted. With her mass of pure white hair she looked like a
mythical snow queen who'd strode out of legend to bury London under a
new ice age. Pete felt discomfited at the sight, and more uncomfortable
at the way her black eyes stared deep into him.

"Are you alone?" asked Dominil.

"Yes. But I was about to go to sleep… you know… gig tomorrow."

Dominil walked in, uninvited. She put her hand behind Pete's
head and dragged his face to within an inch of her own.

"I grow bored in the twins' house," she said.

Dominil drew Pete forward further till their lips almost met.
Her touch was cold, still frozen from the snow.

"So I would like to spend this night here with you," continued
Dominil. "Tomorrow you will not mention it to anyone. Do you
understand?"

Pete said that he did.

"Very well," said Dominil. "Let us proceed. I trust your
bedroom is not in the same deplorable state as the rest of your flat."

201

Unusually among the MacRinnalchs, Markus was not a great
whisky drinker. He sat alone in his chambers, sipping water from the
castle's well, and brooding over Verasa's rejection of his plan to
attack the Barons. He'd started to feel that his mother did not have as
much faith in him as she should. Every time he made a proposal she
would overrule it. Markus began to wonder what was said about him
behind his back. Might there be whispers that he was completely under
his mother's thumb? He bridled at the thought.

Markus was wearing a peach coloured blouse, the same one in
which he had once dazzled Moonglow. Here in the castle he took care to
limit his penchant for female attire. Even a garment like the blouse,
which didn't stray too far over the boundaries of normality, he would
only wear in the privacy of his chambers.

He tapped his foot on the dark stone floor. Captivity in the
castle was as irksome to him as the rest of the MacRinnalchs. He
removed the blouse, replacing it with a black shirt, and draped his
fur-trimmed cloak over his shoulders before heading out to the
courtyard. From there he climbed to the walls, greeting the werewolves
on guard duty.

Despite the respectful greetings he received in return, Markus
couldn't help feeling suspicious. Did these werewolves really respect
him? Might they all wish that Eskandor was still captain of the guard?

The courtyard below was busy, as the castle's occupants sought
relief from the confinement of their living quarters. Markus glanced
downwards. In a dark recess on one of the stairs he noticed two
werewolves in the shadows. They whispered together, and kissed briefly.
Markus grinned. He had no doubt there were a great many secret
relationships of this sort going on, in the prelude to war.

Markus almost laughed when the female werewolf stepped out of
the shadows and hurried down the stairs. It was Buvalis MacGregor,
employed by his mother as head of her household. He could imagine why
young Buvalis might want to keep any relationship away from the eyes of
the Mistress of the Werewolves. Verasa always liked to know more than
she should about the private lives of her employees. Markus was not so
amused when the other werewolf stepped into the light. It was Kertal
MacRinnalch, a supporter of Sarapen and a prime suspect for acts of
treachery. Markus's suspicious were aroused.

He followed Kertal at a discreet distance as he made his way
to the western chambers where Buvalis had her living quarters. By the
time Markus reached Buvalis's rooms the door was closed. Suddenly he
felt ridiculous. What would people say if they knew he was going round
the castle spying on illicit lovers? He was about to move on when he
heard an unusual sound coming from the room. A sort of tearing noise,
like metal being wrenched from stone. Markus's suspicions were
re-ignited. He hesitated for a second longer. 'If it turns out that
Kertal and Buvalis are merely enjoying an energetic lovemaking session,
this is going to be very embarrassing,' he thought, then took hold of
the door handle, and pushed. The door was locked. Markus applied his
shoulder and it burst open. Buvalis and Kertal looked round, startled.
Markus was startled as well, because the tearing noise he'd heard had
been the sound of the metal grate that covered Buvalis's window being
removed. Markus stared at the open window, and then down at Buvalis's
feet, where a very long coil of rope lay in readiness.

"So. Kertal. Buvalis. I see you are about to throw open the
castle to the Barons."

202

Deep into the night Thrix and Malveria arrived at Moonglow's
with the final batch of clothes. Thrix sensed immediately that while
the pendant was here, Kalix was not.

"She's gone out without it. Now of all times."

"Do you want to hunt for her?" asked the Fire Queen.

"No," said Thrix. "I don't care if she dies or not."

"You are not serious?"

Thrix was. She was too fatigued to care about anything except
depositing the last of Malveria's clothes and going home to sleep. If
Kalix got herself killed through her own foolishness that was her
affair.

They sat in the attic, awaiting the arrival of Malveria's
chief dresser. For the next five days Malveria would be shuttling back
and forth between her palace, this attic, and Livia's celebration.
Thrix had given specific instructions as to the wearing of her clothes
and accessories, and some advice about the appropriate make-up for each
event.

"I wish you could attend to all this yourself," said Malveria.
"I trust you so much more than my dresser."

"Don't worry, I'll be around most of the time," said Thrix.
"But I can't be here for your opening night, I have to watch the twins
play."

The Enchantress was rather worried about the gig. She really
didn't know what to wear, and dreaded turning up in the wrong outfit.
Thrix studied her hair in one of the many sorcerous mirrors that hung
in the attic. It was a mess. She was about to hunt for a brush, but
abandoned the effort. A quick brush was not going to repair the damage.
She changed into her wolf form, a shape that was more comfortable for
lying on the floor, and drifted off to sleep. Malveria busied herself
trying on clothes, and was so absorbed that she barely sensed the door
opening downstairs.

Gawain was carrying Kalix up the stairs. He took her to her
room and laid her on the bed. Kalix opened her eyes.

"Don't leave me," she said.

Gawain nodded. He wouldn't leave her.

Upstairs, the Enchantress woke to find the Fire Queen in
consultation with her chief dresser, a middle aged Hiyasta who emitted
an orange glow.

"Ah, Enchantress, you are awake. We are discussing the order
in which my clothes must be put on for my grand entrance. The entrance
is so important. The imperial carriage has been newly plated with gold,
and fresh blood sprinkled on the wheels."

When it was finally time to leave, Thrix bid farewell to
Malveria. As soon as she descended from the attic she sensed Gawain.
She walked to Kalix's room and stood outside the door. She knew that
Gawain was inside with Kalix. Thrix stared at the bedroom door for a
while.

"To hell with you both," she muttered, finally. She arrived
home in a foul temper, and despite her previous exhaustion, required a
large shot of the MacRinnalch whisky before she could sleep.

203

Baron MacGregor's son Wallace received a message from Markus
MacRinnalch informing him that his scheme for entering the castle by
treachery had been discovered. There would be no surreptitious ascent
by rope ladder into Buvalis's chambers. But if Wallace had the stomach
for an honourable battle, Markus challenged him to single combat in
front of the castle gates, the following night. Wallace snarled,
insulted by the suggestion that he might not have the stomach for it.
He would be there. He only wished it could be now, instead of
twenty-four hours hence.

Lachlan MacGregor was astonished when he heard the news. He
couldn't believe the Mistress of the Werewolves had allowed her
favourite son to challenge Wallace. Wallace had never been defeated in
combat. He was a huge werewolf, the strongest in his clan. It was
unfathomable that Markus would engage in solo combat with him.

"Why would he do it?" said Lachlan. "I can't see us even
getting over the walls now that Kertal and Buvalis have been
discovered. They can sit tight and wait till we go away. Why would
Verasa let Markus do this?"

"Perhaps she doesn't know about it," suggested Marwanis.

Lachlan dismissed this, feeling certain that nothing happened
in Castle MacRinnalch unless approved by the Mistress of the
Werewolves. But he was wrong, and Marwanis was right. Markus
MacRinnalch had not consulted his mother before issuing the challenge.
He hadn't consulted anyone. He'd simply told Kertal and Buvalis that
he'd have them killed unless they transmitted his challenge to Wallace.
Markus planned to show his mother, and the clan, that he was a werewolf
fit to be Thane.

204

Beauty woke at two o'clock in the afternoon and
went to rouse Delicious.

"I'm not getting up," said Delicious.

"Why not?"

"I can't remember any of the new songs and I've forgotten how
to play the old ones. Tell Dominil I'm sick."

"Dominil isn't here. We asked her to give us some peace to get
ready today."

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Though the twins
had almost reached a truce with Dominil they'd decided they didn't want
her hanging round as they made their final preparations. If Dominil
started lecturing them when they were putting on their make-up, it
could really set them back. Dominil had been a little reluctant to
leave them to their own devices but in view of their recent progress
had agreed to let them spend most of the day on their own.

Beauty made a further effort to rouse Delicious. They had to
leave for the gig around seven p.m. which only gave them five hours to
get ready, not a lot of time really, given that they still hadn't
decided on their outfits, and their hair would need a lot of attention.

"It's no use," said Delicious. "We can't play and we can't
sing and all our songs are really bad. I'm never going onstage again,
starting from tonight."

Beauty was depressed by her sister's pessimism. She became
disheartened, and went back to bed. When their drummer rang up to check
that everything was all right for tonight, they didn't answer the phone.

The cousins about whom the family did not used to speak were
not the only MacRinnalchs reluctant to rise that day. Kalix lay in
Gawain's arms and never wanted to get up again. She pressed herself
close to the still sleeping Gawain, and drifted in and out of
consciousness, drowsy and happy. She didn't care that Gawain had
temporarily taken another lover. He was back now and that was all that
mattered.

Thrix MacRinnalch slept very late, and would have slept longer
had she not been woken by a phone call from Ann.

"What's the matter? If the heating's gone again, close the
building, I'll deal with it tomorrow."

"You forgot one of Malveria's handbags."

Ann had found the handbag in Thrix's office. Apparently it had
been left behind in the excitement over the final batch of shoes.

"Which one?"

"Black leather, silver clasp, Hiyasta imperial motif."

Thrix groaned. That was one of the bags Malveria needed for
the first day of the celebration.

"Maybe she could just substitute another one?" suggested Ann.

"No," sighed the Enchantress. "If she doesn't have the right
handbag for each outfit the world will come to an end. Maybe literally.
Send it over on a bike, I'll get a message to her."

Thrix dragged herself out of bed. She felt better for her long
sleep, though not yet fully refreshed. A shower and perhaps a brisk
transformation into werewolf shape should bring her back to life. Thrix
was feeling angry. She tried to avoid acknowledging why she felt angry,
but gave up after a while and faced herself squarely in the mirror.

"You don't even like Gawain," she said to her reflection. "So
who gives a damn if he's currently snuggling up to your little sister,
who you don't much like either?"

Thrix had difficulty in selecting her outfit for the day.
She'd never been to a small rock gig before, and had to look long and
hard in her walk-in wardrobes before she found anything appropriate.

Dominil MacRinnalch had slept later than she intended. It was
some time since she'd had a lover and the release provided by sex, plus
the laudanum she'd take the night before, sent her into a deep slumber.
She awoke feeling calm and almost satisfied. Pete woke at the sound of
her dressing.

"Eh… do you want breakfast?" he ventured.

"No," said Dominil. She leaned over him. "I'd rather you did
not mention this to anyone."

For a brief moment the still bleary-eyed Pete had the strange
illusion that a great white wolf was standing over him. He blinked, and
it was only Dominil, but he felt quite shaken.

"Of course," he said, and he meant it. Dominil wasn't like
other women, and he wouldn't have dared go against her wishes.

"I'll see you tonight," he called, as Dominil walked out the
bedroom. She didn't reply.