The Curse of the Wolf Girl (28 page)

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. You probably bribed Decembrius to make me eat. And now you’re talking about how fat I am.”

“No one called you fat,” cried Daniel. “I was talking about Moonglow!”

“What? So you do think I’m fat!” yelled Moonglow.

In the babble of angry voices, no one noticed that the Fire Queen had materialized among them. Malveria watched with interest for a few moments before Vex appeared alongside her.

“Whoa!” Vex was surprised at the commotion. “What’s going on?”

“Daniel has called everyone fat, and now there is tremendous chaos,” said Malveria.

“Well, he’s not going to impress her like that,” said Vex. “Daniel, if you think Moonglow’s fat, you should be tactful about it.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Malveria. “If you object to Moonglow’s weight, you should be encouraging, not critical. Suggest some enjoyable exercise, for instance.”

“I don’t object to Moonglow’s weight! We were talking about Kalix!”

“I knew it!” cried Kalix, and she ran from the room in a state of agitation.

“This is ridiculous,” began Daniel, but his voice trailed off as Moonglow departed angrily, with the air of a woman who might never want to talk to him again. He stood looking hopeless, not entirely understanding how his compliment had gone so badly wrong.

Malveria and Vex looked at him accusingly.

“Well, Daniel,” said Malveria. “I came to consult with Moonglow on a matter of great importance, but it may be difficult now you have infuriated her with a barrage of calculated insults.”

“Kalix too,” added Vex. “He insulted her as well.”

The Fire Queen nodded. “It shows a new side to his personality, I must say. Daniel, what moves you to torment your flatmates? Surely as the man of the house you could at least pretend to be gallant?”

“I didn’t torment anyone!”

“I’ve got comics for Kalix,” said Vex. “I’ll try and cheer her up.”

“A wise plan, almost-adopted niece. Meanwhile, I will attempt to repair the damage that Daniel has inflicted on Moonglow.”

As they left the living room, Daniel kicked a CD on the floor in frustration. The plastic case splintered, and he regretted it immediately. Taking what remained of his beer collection from the fridge, he went upstairs to his room to listen to music, in a foul mood.

“I hate everyone,” he thought, angrily, “especially Moonglow. And Kalix. And Vex and the Fire Queen. I need new friends.”

* * *

Upstairs Malveria was consoling Moonglow. “I’m sorry that Daniel’s endless stream of aggressive insults has reduced you to hysterical tears. There was no need for it.”

“Thanks,” said Moonglow.

“Perhaps it would take your mind off of your misery—”

“It’s okay, I’m not miserable.”

“I admire your bravery! Never let a man know he has severely wounded you with his intolerable cruelty.”

The Fire Queen rather liked being in Moonglow’s room. Moonglow had decorated it darkly, and the black walls reminded Malveria of the caves she’d lived in in her youth.

“I wanted to tell you, Moonglow, that Agrivex has completed the pre-adoption ceremony at the palace. She is now only a brief step away from becoming my lawful niece. As such, she has certain obligations.”

“What obligations?”

“Not to outrage the population. Could you possibly ensure she does not become intoxicated, miss college, insult her tutors, or do anything else that may lead to disgrace?”

“I’ll do my best,” said Moonglow.

“Thank you. Incidentally, is there any chance of Kalix finding a boyfriend?”

Moonglow was startled by the question. “Why?”

“No reason.” Malveria fingered her necklace. “I am just curious.”

“Decembrius has been hanging round. But I don’t think she likes him.”

* * *

In Kalix’s room, Vex was showing Kalix the new werewolf comics.

“Look! In this one, Bella bites a robber!”

Kalix wished that she could bite Vex. But she felt groggy from laudanum and knew Vex would dematerialize before she could reach her.

“These are good comics,” enthused Vex. “No wonder you like them so much!”

Albermarle sat on the rowing machine in the gymnasium beneath the apartment block, working his muscles methodically. There had been a time when he’d felt hopelessly out of place among the surprisingly well-toned professionals who made up the gym’s clientele. Not anymore. Now he was in good shape. His performance on the exercise machines wasn’t much behind that of Captain Easterly.

He hummed the theme song to
Tokyo Top Pop Boom-Boom Girl
as he exercised and was so intent on his workout that he didn’t notice his much-disliked distant cousin approaching.

“Albermarle, did you submit a report criticizing the entire board of the guild for over-claiming on expenses?”

“What about it?”

“Well, did you?”

“I don’t see it’s any business of yours,” said Albermarle. “Part of my duties was to check all expense claims.”

“Maybe. But did you have to report Mr. Carmichael for claiming an extra night at the hotel in Brussels?”

“Why not? He did claim for an extra night. He wasn’t the only one. Every member of the board padded their expenses last year.”

“They were minor infractions,” said Easterly. “Nothing to get too worked up about.”

“When I’m asked to check expenses, I check expenses,” said Albermarle, stiffly.

“Even if it means reporting the entire board?”

“If they’ve all claimed too much, then yes.”

Easterly sighed. He was beginning to understand why the board of directors had agreed to let Albermarle go into active service as a werewolf hunter, despite his clear unsuitability for the task. “I doubt they’ll be attending your funeral,” he muttered and walked off, shaking his head.

* * *

Captain Easterly had come to the gym to clear his head. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he’d woken up with his mind completely fogged. He had a vague idea that he’d been on a date the night before, but he couldn’t remember anything about it. It was very strange. Had he drunk too much? Even if he had, it was very odd for his memory to be so affected.

If he had overindulged, his body felt no ill effects. His exercise went well, and the whole episode had almost disappeared from his mind by the time he returned to his apartment upstairs. He showered, shaved, cleaned his teeth, and was dressing when he opened his wardrobe to select a shirt. He was startled to see a picture of a woman staring out at him. An attractive woman, with a lot of blond hair. Who was it? Who put the picture there?

Easterly gazed at it, and his memory began to return. Not in a flood, but slowly. That was the woman he’d been on a date with. She was a werewolf. Her name was Thrix MacRinnalch. But she was a powerful sorceress as well as a werewolf. Her spells of bafflement were such that any hunter who got close found himself unable to retain any memories. Princess Kabachetka had given him the picture as an aide to his memory and had worked some sort of spell of her own, enabling him to penetrate the enchantress’s defenses.

Easterly stared at the picture, trying to recapture images of the night before. He’d gone out to dinner with her. Apart from that, he couldn’t remember much. Apparently the princess’s assistance wasn’t strong enough. He’d have to ask her to boost it. He stared at the picture and felt a great loathing well up inside him. He hated werewolves, and he hated this one more than any other. As he selected a shirt and closed the door of the wardrobe, he swore he’d kill her.

Sarapen’s funeral was a very quiet affair. Though he’d been the Thane’s eldest son and a notable werewolf, his last actions had been war and rebellion against the clan. He was due his plot in the family graveyard, but there was no reason for an elaborate ceremony. The Mistress of the Werewolves wanted the affair performed with due dignity, but quickly and quietly. The only other attendees, apart from the castle chaplain, were Thane Markus, Verasa’s sister Lucia, Kertal, and Kurian. Those were the council members currently residing at the castle. No one else was informed or invited.

Princes Kabachetka had delivered the body as promised but had withdrawn before the service. She waited in Verasa’s private chambers, in the west wing of the castle. It was an anxious wait. If it were to be discovered that the body currently being buried wasn’t Sarapen, it would be very awkward. The princess was prepared to fly at a moment’s notice, not relishing the prospect of fighting a gang of angry werewolves in their own castle. She had poured all her sorcerous knowledge and power into the altering of the body. It should stand up to examination. It might not have fooled Doctor Angus, the werewolves’ physician, if he were to examine it, but Angus was in Edinburgh, and Verasa had no desire for a medical examination. It probably wouldn’t have fooled Thrix, but she was far away in London. The princess knew the enchantress would never show enough interest in clan affairs to examine the body. Once it was interred, she was safe. Not only that, the princess would then be considered a valued friend of the MacRinnalchs, if Distikka’s calculations proved correct.

“None of them are really sad over Sarapen anyway,” thought the princess, as she waited. “His family members were his enemies.”

Given the princess’s own feelings towards Sarapen, which were still strong, it didn’t endear them to her. The Mistress of the Werewolves was obviously a calculating woman. As for Markus, the princess’s impressions of him had been very unfavorable. Good-looking, in a feminine sort of way, but that was hardly an attribute for a leader. “It’s amazing that this clan could select him ahead of Sarapen,” she mused, her opinion of werewolves lowering even further.

* * *

The midnight funeral did not last long. No music played. The clan bagpipes were not called for, nor was the procession of torchbearers. Sarapen was buried quietly in the plot of land reserved for the Thane’s family, and Verasa and Markus returned to the castle with the air of werewolves who had performed a necessary task satisfactorily. Sarapen had been decently buried. Clan honor was secured.

As they entered the castle, Verasa was somber, but if Markus felt the slightest sadness over the interment of his brother, he didn’t show it. They were both sincere in their thanks to the princess for the return of the body. Both had been impressed by the princess’s manners, charm, and sincerity.

“Perhaps I’ve been too harsh in my opinion of Fire Elementals,” Verasa confided to her son. “The Hainusta may not be as objectionable as the Hiyasta.”

Markus didn’t regard Queen Malveria nearly as poorly as did his mother, but even so, he was charmed by the princess. Though her blond hair falling over her dark skin was unusual, she was soberly attired and had an air of respectability about her. She told them she was interested to find herself in Scotland for the first time and admired the castle building.

“Its strong lines remind me of home. Tell, me what are your great cities like? I’ve heard much of the beauty of Edinburgh.”

“It’s a fine city,” Markus assured her. “I was there just last week, making preparations for our opera.”

“
Opera?
” asked the princess. “What is this?”

“A charitable event my mother is hosting.”

“It sounds fascinating,” exclaimed the princess. “Please tell me more.”

Is that all she told you?”

After Decembrius’s encounter with Thrix, Kalix was dissatisfied. Decembrius didn’t seem to have learned anything at all. “She examined the place. She must have found out something.”

Decembrius spread his arms. “She says not. She thought it was probably the guild. Maybe a Begravar knife. And maybe there were werewolves there sometime, though she seemed evasive about that.” Decembrius suddenly turned east out of Soho.

“Where are we going?” asked Kalix.

“I found an interesting place. You’ll like it.”

Though it was close to midnight, the center of town was still busy. Decembrius led them through the crowds and across Regent Street, where it became quieter. They walked past several small shops with men’s suits in the windows. Tailor’s shops, Kalix thought, though she couldn’t read the signs.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Savile Row.”

Decembrius surprised Kalix by abruptly changing into his werewolf shape and leaping up to a narrow window ledge far above them.

“Come on,” he called down. “Before anyone sees us.”

Kalix transformed and leapt after him. The two werewolves scrambled agilely up the side of the building, climbing several stories before finally coming to a metal fence. Decembrius clambered over it, followed by Kalix. She found herself on a flat rooftop, three stories above the ground.

“You like it?” asked Decembrius.

Kalix shrugged. She’d been on a lot of rooftops. There didn’t seem anything to distinguish this one.

“This is the roof of the old Apple Building.” Decembrius looked pleased with himself. “This is where the Beatles played their last live gig.”

If Decembrius was expecting Kalix to be impressed, he was disappointed.

“It’s a funny place to play,” she said. “Couldn’t they find anywhere better?”

“It was a famous event.”

“Oh,” said Kalix, sounding even less impressed.

It began to rain, quite gently, and Kalix noticed the temperature had dropped. As a werewolf child, Kalix had been completely impervious to the weather. She’d run through the valleys around Castle MacRinnalch in deep snow and hardly noticed it. These days she wasn’t so immune to the climate.

“I thought you were taking me somewhere good.”

“This is good,” said Decembrius.

“I think it’s stupid,” said Kalix, and she decided that she didn’t like Decembrius at all, which she’d known all along anyway. “I’m going home.”

“Don’t you want to discuss what Thrix said?”