The Curse of the Wolf Girl (36 page)

Kalix seemed on the verge of snarling at her companion but stopped herself. Vex had done her best.

“Thanks for helping,” Kalix said.

“Okay. Can we go to a café now? I need tea. And maybe an egg sandwich.”

They walked out of the shabby old building, Vex still feeling weary and Kalix deep in thought. It had started to rain, and they hurried towards the nearest small café. Kalix wondered if Vex’s information could be relied on. If she was right, several werewolves had been at Gawain’s flat before he was murdered, and none of them had been forthcoming about it.

“Let’s talk about our assignments,” said Vex, halfway through her sandwich.

“Do we have to?”

“It’ll be fun. I’ve already got lots of pictures of Tokyo Top Pop Boom-Boom Girl. I can’t wait to stick them in a big book. What are you going to do?”

“I can’t talk to the class about anything.”

“How about ‘My Life s a Werewolf’? You’d be great at that.”

“It’s supposed to be a secret.”

“Oh. Well, what about ‘I Have a Good Friend Who’s a Werewolf’?”

Kalix felt like screaming. “We’re not supposed to mention werewolves at all!”

“I suppose you’re right. Maybe
Sabrina the Teenage Witch
? You like that.”

Kalix wasn’t keen. She did like
Sabrina
but felt the rest of the class might laugh at her for doing an assignment on what was really a children’s program. Vex, a regular viewer of cartoons aimed at four-year-olds, found this difficult to understand.

“I still think you could talk about
Curse of the Wolf Girl
.”

“Only if I can tell everyone how much I hate it.”

“Why not?” asked Vex. “We can pick anything. You don’t have to like it.”

Kalix was surprised. She hadn’t realized that. The notion of strongly denouncing
Curse of the Wolf Girl
as an anti-werewolf piece of propaganda seemed vaguely attractive. She shook her head. “Stop distracting me. I want to think about Gawain.”

Dominil stepped out of the bookshop on Charing Cross Road carrying a plastic bag containing the complete letters of Cicero. It was a weighty volume. Cicero had been a prolific letter-writer. She intended to walk back to her flat, which was a mile or so away. Dominil had once spent a lot of time walking through the fields and glens that surrounded the castle in Scotland, and here in London, she enjoyed walking the streets. Her phone rang. She took it from the pocket of her long leather coat.

“Dominil?”

“Yes.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Buying a book.”

“Anything interesting?”

“The complete letters of Cicero.”

“The last great statesman of the Roman Republic.”

“I’ve always admired him.” Dominil turned a corner onto a street with several small shops selling fabrics from India.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d have much time for reading these days.”

“Why not?” asked Dominil.

“Well, there’s the twins’ gig. That must be taking some of your time? Making them rehearse. And keeping them safe.”

“I’m quite sure they’re safe.”

“I hope so. You never know what might happen to a werewolf band in London these days.”

“I wouldn’t describe them strictly as a werewolf band,” said Dominil. “Werewolf-fronted perhaps.”

The caller laughed. “That’s enough to get them into trouble. He came to a bad end, of course.”

“Who?”

“Cicero?”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Not only murdered by Mark Anthony, but decapitated as well, and his hand cut off and nailed up in the Roman Forum as a warning to others.”

Dominil waited at a crossing for the cars to stop then crossed the road carefully. The day was gloomy with intermittent rain, slightly dampening her long, white hair.

“Have you been to the museum recently?”

“Yes,” said Dominil, “though my last visit was interrupted before I could fully appreciate it.”

The caller laughed again. “I’m sorry about that.”

Dominil looked around carefully at the next corner. She didn’t know how Albermarle had obtained her phone number, though she wasn’t surprised that he had. He was an intelligent foe, and he had the resources of the guild behind him. She wondered if this call was an attempt to trace her location.

“I always liked you at Oxford,” said Albermarle.

“I know. I never gave you a second thought.”

“Well, perhaps you should have,” said Albermarle, angrily, losing his composure for the first time in the conversation.

“You weren’t worth it,” said Dominil, with her customary lack of tact.

“Maybe if you had, I wouldn’t be a werewolf hunter now.”

“I suggest you look for other employment.”

A group of Japanese tourists studied Dominil with interest. Dominil walked by without paying them any attention, though she was taking a careful interest in her surroundings. Albermarle had caught her by surprise at the museum, and she didn’t intend to let it happen again.

“You stole my place on the quiz team.”

“You were sick. I was asked to deputize.”

“I was better by the time of the competition. I should have won that trophy!”

“And yet you didn’t.”

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Dominil.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Next time I’ll kill you,” said Albermarle.

“On the contrary,” replied Dominil, “next time I’ll kill you.”

The festival in honor of the Southern Volcano was a small affair in comparison to other Hainusta festivals. Even so, Princess Kabachetka surprised the empress by participating with a show of enthusiasm. Her brother Prince Esarax was there, being fawned over by the masses, and the princess had decided that she’d better start improving her own profile. Much as it bored her to stand around the rim of a volcano, clapping politely while local dignitaries made speeches and threw a few sacrificed victims into the volcano, she did her best to smile and wave graciously to the crowds. Though it was far from comfortable wandering around a volcano in high heels—a problem suffered by many of the Elemental aristocracy these days—she managed to make it through the ceremony without yawning or scowling.

Afterwards, the empress was impressed, and she remarked to her minister in charge of volcanoes that the princess had looked well.

* * *

Princess Kabachetka, meanwhile, was racing back to the capital, heading for the cavern to meet Distikka. She hurried in, her heels clicking on the black basalt floor, to find Distikka sitting on a shelf of rock, a look of disapproval on her face.

The princess held up her hand. “Do not start with your lectures on timekeeping. I have been pandering to the masses, as recommended by yourself. These provincial Elementals are quite dreadful. I thought their speeches would never end. How is the Fire Queen?”

Distikka rose, which made her chain-mail clank slightly. “Malveria is beside herself with rage that you managed to secure an invitation. She can talk of nothing else and plots feverishly to secure an invitation herself. The foolish woman is now so bound up in the opera, her clothes, and her status among the aristocracy that she’s completely alienated her Council of Ministers. Some of them now wonder openly if she is fit to be Queen.”

Princess Kabachetka glowed with pleasure at the news. “And General Agripath?”

“The promotion to Commander has gone through.”

“Excellent. With the council turning against her and the head of the army under your thrall—he is under your thrall, I take it?”

“Yes.”

The princess stared at Distikka for a few moments, wondering if the small figure had what it took to bring the head of the Hiyasta army under her thrall. She hoped so. “Then you have every chance of succeeding to the throne when we remove the queen.” Flames of happiness radiated from the princess’s eyes at the thought of Malveria being deposed.

“Have you made any progress with a spell to attack the enchantress?” asked Distikka.

“Very little,” admitted the princess. “Replicating a lunar eclipse is a difficult concept. I’ve asked my agents on Earth to search out a particular book, which may have some guidance on the subject.”

“We’ll fail if you don’t manage to negate her powers,” warned Distikka.

“I’m aware of that. And I’m also aware that while we are busy deposing Queen Malveria and destroying Thrix MacRinnalch, it will do me no good if the empress suddenly decides to die and my brother accedes to the throne.”

“Just make sure he attends the charity event, and we can take care of him at the same time.”

The princess frowned. “That’s not so easy. How can I persuade him to attend?”

“Does he have a wife?”

“He’s unmarried. He has a mistress, a quite dreadful woman who keeps forcing her way into fashionable gatherings where she doesn’t belong.”

“You should cultivate her. If you can make her want to go to the opera, he’ll follow along.”

The princess shuddered at the thought of cultivating her brother’s mistress but acknowledged it was a worthwhile idea.

Distikka rose and walked to the center of the cavern. The princess stood next to her and held out her arms, placing one palm on each of Distikka’s shoulders. Flames flowed between them, pink in color, traveling from Kabachetka’s body into Distikka’s. Distikka had been finding it difficult to completely guard her aura recently, under the eyes of so many Hiyasta Elementals. Were her treachery to be glimpsed or her ancestry to be guessed at, Queen Malveria would execute her in an instant. The extra power from Princess Kabachetka was an important means of buffering the false aura she maintained at all times.

Though the princess and Distikka were too different ever to be friends, they’d settled quite comfortably into a working partnership. Each thought, sincerely enough, that when they took power in their respective kingdoms, they could get on equitably enough with each other.

Daniel was agog when he learned about Dominil’s rescue of Kalix. “She exploded a smoke bomb? A smoke bomb? Who has a smoke bomb?” Though Daniel had never previously displayed any liking for Dominil, news of the daring escapade seemed to completely change his opinion about her. “She’s like a werewolf secret agent! Or a ninja! Did she swarm up the wall on a rope? Did she have hidden weapons?”

“You’re getting carried away,” said Moonglow.

“She’s like a superhero! Do you think she has special powers?”

“Of course she has special powers. She’s a werewolf.”

“I mean extra over-and-above-normal werewolf powers.”

Moonglow smiled at Daniel’s enthusiasm. He couldn’t help being impressed at anything that smacked of superheroes and secret agents. Moonglow had been just as impressed by the rescue but found the whole incident very worrying. Kalix had apparently blundered into an extremely dangerous situation and would probably have been killed had it not been for Dominil’s timely arrival.

“I’m looking at Dominil in a whole new light,” said Daniel. “She probably does have some hidden weapons. Maybe ninja throwing stars.” He pretended to throw a secret ninja weapon, which drew a protest from Moonglow, who told him to concentrate on the road.

She glanced at her watch. They were driving into the center of London and wanted to make sure they didn’t arrive in the congestion-zone while it was still active. If they did, they’d have to pay the toll, which they were anxious to avoid. Daniel slowed down a little, just in case.

They were on their way to see Yum Yum Sugary Snacks. The invitation had arrived at the last minute. Beauty had phoned to let Kalix know they were playing at a private party in a warehouse just north of Camden, near Kentish Town tube station. Daniel would rather not have driven, but they had college tomorrow, and didn’t feel like arriving home too late on a night bus. Moonglow had been dubious about going at all but was swept up in Vex’s uncontrollable enthusiasm. At Yum Yum Sugary Snacks’s first and only gig, Vex had been overwhelmed with excitement and immediately became their biggest fan.

Others who’d been there, mainly the MacRinnalchs, remembered the night for the vicious fight that had ensued, leading to the deaths of many werewolves; Vex just remembered what a good time she’d had.

“They’re strange creatures, these werewolves,” mused Daniel as they edged through the traffic.

Moonglow gave him a funny look, thinking that this was stating the blindingly obvious.

“I mean apart from being werewolves, which is strange enough in the first place, I admit. But that doesn’t seem enough for some of them. Look at Dominil. She’s the only white-haired werewolf in the clan, but she wasn’t satisfied with that. She went away to Oxford where she got a first-class degree and spent her time translating Latin poetry, and then she learned to be some computer genius, and now she’s running around London, rescuing people and exploding smoke bombs.

“And what about Thrix?” he continued, warming to his theme. “She seems to be the only blond werewolf, and you’d think that might be enough for anyone. You know, she could go around saying ‘I’m the only blond werewolf, what do you think about that?’ But she wasn’t satisfied either. She had to go off and learn to be a sorceress as well. How difficult was that? Very difficult, I’d imagine. Must have taken years. And then she still wasn’t satisfied. She went and started her own fashion business, and now she’s got this lust-for-success thing going on. You can tell just by looking at her. She’s positively scary. Overachiever of the century, I’d say. And you know how I hate overachievers.”

“Like me, for instance?” asked Moonglow.

Daniel had to run a quick mental check to see if he was currently attempting to be kind and supportive to Moonglow or to be harsh and critical. He’d changed so many times over the past few weeks that he’d started to confuse himself.

“I don’t think you’re an overachiever,” he said, deciding he was still in his supportive phase. “Just a girl who likes to do well at college. A good example to us all, really.”