The Curse of the Wolf Girl (8 page)

Decembrius leaned forward. He was short of money. Acting as go-between in a transaction with the merchant didn’t sound like such a bad thing to do.

“What are these items?” he asked.

“Books. Old books. Old enough to be valuable, we reckon. From one of London’s many institutes of learning. It wasn’t what we were looking for, but we don’t like to pass up an opportunity.”

Decembrius nodded his understanding. No doubt the Douglas-MacPhees could easily have gotten rid of the stolen electrical goods, or drugs, in which they normally traded, but antiquarian books were a different matter.

“I’ll do it,” he said, partly because he needed the money, and partly because he felt like he should keep in contact with the Douglas-MacPhees in case they did manage to find Gawain, who then would lead them to Kalix.

* * *

Decembrius walked home, deep in thought. Though he had no intention of helping the Douglas-MacPhees, he was already wondering how he might find Gawain. It irritated him that Gawain had access to Kalix and he didn’t. He wondered if he could discover where Gawain lived and force him to divulge information. Perhaps, if he really turned his mind to it, his old powers of seeing might reveal something about Gawain’s location.

When he arrived home, there was a message on his answering machine from his mother Lucia, urging him to come to Scotland for the next meeting of the Great Council. Decembrius ignored it. He poured himself a small glass of the clan whisky and drank it quickly then sat down to think some more about how to find Gawain.

As Daniel, Moonglow, and Kalix waited for their pizzas, there was a sudden flash of light. Queen Malveria appeared, bringing with her the aroma of jasmine. It was another potentially startling event to which they’d now become accustomed. The Queen of the Hiyasta Fire Elementals had been a frequent visitor to their house a few months ago.

“Greetings, young humans! How splendid to see you again. Excuse me for not ringing the bell, as is the polite custom, but I noticed a young man on a motorbike, with boxes, and suspected he was about to visit you with food. I did not wish to distress him by materializing suddenly. I have been interrogating Agrivex.”

Moonglow was alarmed at the thought of an interrogation. “She really hasn’t been doing anything wrong.”

“So she insists,” agreed the queen, “but I needed to satisfy myself as to her behavior. One does not wish to learn that she has caused any of her tutors to fling themselves out of windows in despair.”

“She seems to get on well at college,” said Moonglow.

The queen nodded. “So she tells me. Indeed she claims to have obtained a gold star for a poem. I understand that this is a good sign?”

“Eh…yes,” agreed Moonglow.

“Has she committed any outrages in your house? Destroyed items of value?”

Daniel and Moonglow assured the queen that Vex hadn’t destroyed anything.

“That is a surprise,” said the queen, “but perhaps the abominable niece will astonish us all and not create chaos. Very well.” She snapped her fingers, summoning Agrivex back from her dimension.

“Agrivex. The young humans inform me that you have behaved yourself. So you may continue with your program.”

“Fantastic!” yelled Vex. “Can I have—”

“You cannot have new boots. It will take more than a few days of good behavior to earn such a reward.”

Just then the doorbell rang, and Daniel went downstairs to collect their pizzas. Moonglow offered Malveria a cup of tea, which she accepted. The queen appreciated the care Moonglow took over her tea, making it in a pot, then serving it in delicate cups, with a small jar of milk and a jar of sugar on a tray.

“How have you been?” inquired the queen. “And have you noticed my most fabulous mid-evening ensemble?”

“It’s lovely,” said Moonglow. Despite her own preference for black clothes and dark makeup, Moonglow did appreciate the fashionable garments that Thrix created for Malveria. The queen could tell that Moonglow was sincere, and it pleased her.

“It was something of a triumph. The dress, shoes, hat, and matching bag were noted by all to be a remarkable achievement. But this is not the whole reason for my excellent mood. I have been to the opera!”

With that, the queen began humming an air, something neither Daniel nor Moonglow could remember happening before.

“It was such a splendid experience! I am amazed I have never been before! Such music and costume! Such glorious scenes!” The Fire Queen broke off to hum a little more. Moonglow had pulled out a seat at their small table, but Malveria showed no inclination to sit down.

“So great was my enthusiasm that I found myself in sympathy with a rather oversized man,” continued Malveria, “called Falstaff, I believe. Are you familiar with him?”

“Yes,” said Moonglow, who knew Falstaff from Shakespeare, though not from the opera.

“How I laughed at his antics! The scoundrel attempted most basely to seduce respectable women in a scandalous fashion, but I could not be completely out of sympathy with his efforts, as he had such a beautiful voice. And he was handsomely dressed, in a manner which made the best of a bad job, as it were. One wishes that he had been less generously proportioned, but even so I was prepared to support his endeavors.” The Fire Queen paused and looked thoughtful. “It has to be said that the women he was attempting to seduce were not of the most slender figures either and would have benefited from the strict regimen of diet and exercise with which Malveria continues to gladden the hearts of her subjects by remaining the slenderest of queens. Nonetheless, they also had most beautiful voices. After the performance, I went with Thrix to a place called ‘backstage,’ and I met the large singer who was Falstaff! He has a wonderful voice, that Mr. Felicori!”

“Felicori?”

“An Italian. Thrix’s mother is staging a singing event in Scotland, for charity, and wishes Mr. Felicori to appear there.”

Malveria sat down gracefully at their table, not displeased to rest her feet. The heels she was wearing, while extremely stylish, were far from comfortable, though that was something she would never have admitted. Daniel meanwhile was distributing pizza. Next to him, Kalix, in her werewolf form, ate hungrily. At the mention of her sister, a scowl had appeared on her face, but she remained silent.

“My dear friend the enchantress was supposed to impress and seduce Mr. Felicori. But impressing and seducing are not her strongest points. When a bold advance is called for, she has a tendency to hang back.”

“Did she really want to seduce him?” asked Moonglow, who, knowing Thrix, couldn’t quite imagine it.

“In the sense of forming a sexual relationship with him, no,” admitted the Fire Queen. “But in the sense of persuading him to oblige the Mistress of the Werewolves, yes. As I understand it, Mr. Felicori has many calls on his time, and it is not easy to make him agree to such an engagement. Fortunately for all, I took matters in hand, brushed his admirers out of the way, confronted the great singer, and made a strong case to him that he should agree to appear in Scotland.” The queen smiled at the memory. “Mr. Felicori was favorably impressed, I assure you. It was a service I was pleased to do for my good friend Thrix, even though—” Malveria’s expression clouded slightly. “Even though I, of course, will not be welcome at the event.”

Moonglow nodded. She remembered that the Hiyastas and the MacRinnalch werewolves were historical enemies and had fought each other in the past. No Hiyasta would be welcome at a MacRinnalch event.

“Would you like a Pop-Tart?” asked Moonglow, to cover Malveria’s disappointment.

“I would love a Pop-Tart,” replied Malveria. “Though only one, as I am on a strict health regime. I must look fabulous for next month’s important sacrifice on the Great Volcano. One cannot disappoint one’s adoring subjects by turning up with unwanted extra poundage. Word would reach Princess Kabachetka, and she would spread it around all the realms in no time.”

“Are you still rivals with Princess Kabachetka?” asked Moonglow.

“I am indeed. The ladies—I use the term loosely—of the Hainusta court are due to visit my realm shortly, and while I have no fears of being overwhelmed by Kabachetka’s shoddy attempts at fashion, my intelligence services tell me that she has been studying whist most assiduously. No doubt she hopes to embarrass me at the card table.” The queen looked troubled. “Embarrassment is a possibility. My partner, the Duchess Gargamond, has a tendency to reckless play, thereby leading us into ruin and catastrophe.”

The queen nibbled on her Pop-Tart and suddenly noticed Moonglow’s fingernails, which had been varnished matte black, overlaid with silver stars. “How very original!” she exclaimed. “Who is your nail polish assistant?”

Moonglow didn’t have a nail polish assistant. She’d done it herself. The queen was impressed at the girl’s talent. Really, it all seemed like a trial, living in this small apartment without even a servant to make life easier, but the girl seemed to manage. The Fire Queen admired her for it. Moonglow was attractive, enterprising, and sympathetic. It was no wonder that young Daniel was so besotted with her. With her skill in reading auras, Malveria could tell quite easily that Daniel’s romantic hopes had been disappointed. His romance with Moonglow, which had once, unexpectedly, threatened to flare into life, was now dead. Malveria was satisfied. Though Daniel didn’t know it, Malveria herself had been instrumental in thwarting his hopes. The queen liked Daniel, but she didn’t see friendship in quite the same way that people did, and the Fire Elementals had never entirely lost their appetite for tormenting humans.

Malveria took a small mirror from her handbag and studied her lips. She sighed loudly. “Once more my lip gloss lets me down. Though this product absolutely swore that it would not fade, it is now wearing off. The bold crimson has dimmed to an unalluring pink. Do you have a solution to this, Moonglow?”

Moonglow didn’t. She’d suffered with fading lipstick herself, and she entered into a prolonged discussion with the queen about the iniquities of makeup manufacturers who falsely promised their lipstick would last all night.

Princess Kabachetka didn’t enjoy the state banquet given in honor of her brother Prince Esarax on his promotion from colonel to general. She was bored by the series of long speeches about her brother’s many fine qualities. As applause for Prince Esarax rang out around the stateroom, she turned to her lady in waiting, Alchet, and complained about the night’s events.

“It’s not like he’s just won a war or anything. All he did was get promoted. Hardly that difficult when your mother is the empress.”

“He’s very popular with the army,” said Alchet.

“Who cares about the army?”

“The people love him too.”

Princess Kabachetka frowned at her lady in waiting. “Must you keep praising my wretched brother?”

“I apologize, Princess.”

The princess had never liked her elder brother. They’d never gotten along well and had nothing in common. She counted it a blessing that he spent most of his time with his regiment. It amazed her that her mother, a woman who did understand the value of clothes, could value him so. Esarax had never been well dressed. Yet here he was, having banquets thrown in his honor just because he’d received another promotion.

The princess’s evening wasn’t improved by having to be polite to Lady Krimsich, her brother’s consort.

“What a dreadful woman she is, with her cheap shoes and arrogant laughter. Quite what the woman has to be arrogant about, I can’t imagine. She’s the sixth daughter of an impoverished earl! If she hadn’t gotten her hooks into my brother, she’d have been thrown in the volcano long ago.”

The evening worsened after the princess finally succeeded in gaining her mother’s attention.

“About my request for help with the werewolves,” began the princess. “I wondered if—”

“The answer is no,” said the empress.

“What?”

“No.”

“But I require your help.”

“And I’m not going to give it,” said the empress, sharply. “The whole notion is ridiculous. Leave those low creatures alone, and concentrate on being a proper princess for a change. You could learn some things from your elder brother.”

“Like how to dress poorly and drink too much at banquets?”

The empress glowered at her daughter. “Prince Esarax does not drink too much. He knows how to relate to our citizens. I’d like to see you making more of an effort to please the population instead of spending their taxes on endless new outfits.”

“But I don’t want to please the population,” protested the princess. “They are all such dreadful people.”

The princess was forced to break off while some tedious ambassadors offered the empress their congratulations on Esarax’s promotion. As they departed, she made a final attempt to win her mother over. “Think of how pleased the population will be if I outshine Queen Malveria! Which I will do if you lend me several powerful sorcerers to defeat Thrix MacRinnalch.”

“I will do no such thing. The imperial sorcerers are for the defense of the realm, not your foolish whims. If you hate this Thrix MacRinnalch so much, go down to Earth and hire some werewolf hunters.”

The princess felt momentarily faint. “Hire werewolf hunters? Where will it end? Soon you will be asking me to sweep the streets.”

The empress glared at her daughter, broke off the conversation, and swept across the room, taking Prince Esarax’s arm on the way. Princess Kabachetka stared after them with loathing.

“The way everyone fawns on my brother is just appalling. You’d think he was emperor.”

“Well, I expect he will be one day,” said Alchet, her lady in waiting.

The princess’s blood froze. “What did you say?”

“I said, I expect he will be emperor one day, Princess.”

“Why? The succession has not been decided.”

Alchet looked at the princess with something that might have been pity. “Everyone expects it will be Esarax. He would have the military on his side.”