Read The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf Online
Authors: Martin Millar
Kalix was pleased. She'd started to feel anxious, but now that they were definitely going to fight, calmness descended again.
Decembrius arrived back from the kitchen with a mug of tea. “What's happening?”
“We've got nine werewolves. We're going to attack,” said Thrix.
“Good. Did you know you're out of milk?”
“There's another pint on the bottom shelf in the fridge,” said Thrix, whose mood had dramatically improved. She snapped her fingers, and a few seconds later the pint of milk floated into the room. It was rare for the Enchantress to use her sorcery for any minor reason in front of other werewolves, perhaps because the clan had a tendency to look down on it. Now she was in too good a mood to worry about such things.
“I hope the building isn't completely empty,” she said. “If there aren't at least a couple of hunters there, I'll be disappointed.”
The Fire Queen was in a poor temper. She'd felt herself to be on the defensive ever since Kabachetka had ingratiated herself with the editor of
Vogue
by sponsoring the ball. Thrix's designs may have been a success on the night, but the overall effect had still been to boost the Empress's profile. Kabachetka was receiving more invitations to events than she ever had before.
It would not have been so bad had she not appeared in the “fashionable party people” pages, thought the Fire Queen. But it gave her confidence, and boosted what Thrix calls her “credibility.” Now the awful woman is everywhere. One simply dreads the Versace event tomorrow. If she is seated more favorably than me, I shall simply die.
Donatella Versace was sponsoring her new partnership with Takahashi, a young Japanese designer who'd been creating waves in the fashion world for some time. His arrival in Europe was an important event.
The Fire Queen's thoughts carried on in the same gloomy train.
One is fortunate to even have a decent frock to wear. I practically had to beg Thrix's assistant Ann to have the designers finish it for me
.
Malveria shook her head, and drank heavily from her wine glass. Thrix had promised to design more for her when she rejoined her business, but Malveria had no confidence that this would ever happen.
“Thrix is more likely to be dead than back in business.”
The Fire Queen looked up, sensing that her niece had just arrived in the palace. Vex hurried in to the Fire Queen's chambers.
“Hello, Aunt Malvie.”
“Do not call me âAunt Malvie,' snapped the Fire Queen. “You may as well bring me a woollen blanket and drape it around my aging shoulders. What do you want?”
“Kalix is going to get killed on some mission.”
“I am aware of this.”
“Oh.” Vex was surprised. “Aren't you going to do something about it?”
“The Queen of the Hiyasta does not spend her time protecting
werewolves, no matter what you may think,” said Malveria, grandly.
“Come on, Aunty, you can't just let her get killed.”
The Fire Queen shook her head. “There is nothing I can do. They are going to a place I cannot enter.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Maynista curse, which you would know about had you ever paid the slightest attention in your history class.”
“So you really can't help?” Vex was deflated. She'd assumed that her aunt would be able to do something. “I don't like this at all.”
“I don't like it either, Agrivex. But such is life.”
“Could I do anything to help? Does the curse affect me?”
The Fire Queen shook her head. “No. But you should not get involved. And neither should Daniel or Moonglow.”
“Where is this building they're going to?”
“I don't know. Only someone with prior knowledge of its location can find it.”
“Well, this is no good,” said Vex. “Kalix might get killed.”
“Thrix may also die. But we can't help.”
“But you always manage to help.”
“Usually I do,” agreed the Fire Queen. “But we all have our limits, including me. It's time you appreciated that.”
“I suppose so,” said Vex, gloomily. It had never previously occurred to Vex that her aunt had limits. She was thoughtful for a few moments. “Was it difficult for you to become Queen? What with all the fighting and so on?”
“It was. Did you not realize that?”
“I never thought about it much.”
They sat in silence for a few more minutes.
“Agrivex, while we cannot directly help, there is one thing we may do. While the werewolves are fighting, both myself and Kabachetka will be in London. The werewolves attack is secret, and Kabachetka should not know. But I worry about that. If Kabachetka does know, she may assist the Guild, and that would be disastrous. Unlike myself, she can enter their building, and even without sorcery she has great elemental power. So come with me to the event, and keep an eye on Kabachetka. We can at least make sure she does not add her power to that of the hunters.”
“OK.” Vex brightened a little at the prospect of helping in some way. She looked down at her bag, which resembled a green plastic shopping basket. “Do you like my new bag?”
“It's the vilest thing I have ever seen.”
“Isn't it great? I got it on eBay with some manga.”
The Fire Queen shuddered. “Kindly keep it well away from Donatella's fashion show.”
“I bet it will be a big hit at the show!” enthused Vex.
“Green plastic is rarely a fashion winner, dismal niece.”
“How could anyone not like it?” said Vex. “I love my green plastic bag.”
While Morag MacAllister, Wallace MacGregor and the three MacRinnalchs were still en route to London, Distikka visited the Guild's headquarters. She was allowed through the front door but no further. She waited as Mr. Carmichael was summoned. He took quite a long time to arrive and when he did he appeared distracted.
“Sorry we can't let you in. We're on high security alert. We're anticipating the attack any day now.”
Distikka nodded. “It will be tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
“The Empress's spies have observed unusual movement around the castle. We think they have set out. Are you prepared?”
“We are,” said Mr. Carmichael.
“Good,” said Distikka. “That is all I came to say.”
“Do you have any reason to believe the werewolves know we're expecting them?”
“Not as far as I know,” said Distikka. “They still think they'll take you by surprise.”
Distikka departed.
Mr. Carmichael returned to his task of preparing for the attack. All four members of Group Sixteen were gathered in the foyer, standing behind a makeshift but sturdy barrier that had been erected overnight. Another barrier, similar in size, had been put up on the other side of the foyer.
“We can fit eight hunters in this space,” said Braid. “All with guns trained on the werewolves' point of arrival. There's space for another three or four on the stairs. The rest will have to wait on the first floor.”
The old building was full of narrow corridors and small rooms. It
wasn't the ideal location for fighting a prolonged battle with werewolves. There were too many corners to hide around, and not enough clear space for uninterrupted fire. Mr. Carmichael hoped that the fighting would not extend to other parts of the building. The plan was to cut the werewolves down the moment they arrived. With the firepower at his command he was confident of success.
Distikka returned to the Empress's palace. Though she had become used to the journey between dimensions, the cold, gray voyage still left her fatigued. It would have been hard to tell as she entered the throne room. Distikka walked very erect, with her head high.
“The hunters are ready,” she informed the Empress.
Empress Kabachetka was busy with her dressmakers who were making some final adjustments to her gown. Also in attendance were three servants, laying out shoes for her approval. The Empress wasn't satisfied with any of them.
“Bring me more shoes,” she commanded. Her servants hurried off to bring more shoes.
“Do you trust the hunters to finish the task?” she asked Distikka.
“They should succeed.”
“You sound as if you have some doubts.”
“Not really. The werewolves will be surprised. They should all die. But the Avenaris Guild has failed in the past. And they're facing Dominil. I have a high regard for her abilities.”
The Empress looked at her adviser with some annoyance. “I deplore your high regard for this werewolf. Just because you share a taste in art does not mean she can defeat a volley of silver bullets. Is the Guild well supplied with silver bullets?”
“I believe so.”
“Good. Where is Bakmer? I need advice. This hemline is making my ankles look thick.” The Empress turned this way and that in front of a mirror. “Have you news of Sarapen?”
“The army is still in pursuit.”
“You certainly failed in this, Distikka. It should have been done by now.”
“I didn't appreciate your soldiers were so inefficient,” said Distikka. “I have assigned more to the task. They'll find him soon.”
The Empress wasn't listening. “Where is Bakmer? I need him imme
diately. And who is responsible for my nails? Distikka, find whoever is responsible for my nails, admonish them severely, then send them to me.”
There were nine werewolves in Thrix's apartment. Eight of them were eating quietly in the seldom-used dining room. Kalix had sneaked off to the bedroom to call Manny. She'd agonized over it, fearing rejection. It would be terrible if she called him and he didn't want to speak to her. Realizing that it might be her last ever opportunity, she gathered up her courage and dialed his number. It was a surprise when he answered.
“It's Alex. I just thought I'd call you . . . You know . . . you said I should . . .”
There was silence at the other end of the line.
“I'm sorry I messed everything up,” said Kalix. Her voice faltered. She didn't know what she could add to that. Her eyes became moist, much to her annoyance.
“It's OK,” said Manny. “I'm glad you called. Maybe I got too upset about it anyway.”
Kalix still had no idea what to say next. Another long silence ensued. She gathered up her courage. “Do you want to meet?” she said, finally.
“OK,” said Manny. “When? Tonight?”
“I'm busy tonight,” said Kalix. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“OK. You should call me.”
“OK.”
The phone call ended. Kalix's heart was pounding. It had taken all her effort to make the call. If Manny had been rude to her she wouldn't have been able to bear it. Now it was done, Kalix felt pleased with herself for making the effort. Her pleasure was quickly dispelled by a very hostile growl behind her. She spun round to find Thrix glaring at her.
“Were you just talking to Manny?” cried Thrix. “I can't believe this! I told you he was connected to the Guild and you've just gone and told him you're busy tonight! Why not just send them a message that we're about to attack? You moronic, pathetic excuse for a MacRinnalch.”
“He doesn't have anything to do with the hunters!” yelled Kalix.
“His brother works in the building!” yelled Thrix. “I already knew
you were selfish and inconsiderate, but I didn't know just how stupid you were. You know what would happen if I told anyone about this? They'd cancel the mission. And the only reason I'm not going to tell is because I'm so crazy for revenge I don't care if the Guild knows I'm coming. I just want to kill hunters. But if everything goes wrong tonight, it will be your fault.”
Thrix's eyes blazed as she shouted at her sister. “Never speak to me again. Just forget we're sisters. I'm finished with you, for good.”
Thrix wrenched open the bedroom door. Decembrius was outside. “What's going on?”
“Nothing,” snapped Thrix. “Just an argument.” She stormed off.
“What was that about?” Decembrius asked Kalix.
“Nothing,” mumbled Kalix. “Just sisters arguing.”
“It's almost time to leave. Are you ready for a fight?”
“Very ready,” said Kalix, and looked savage as she spoke.
Kalix followed Decembrius back into the main room where the attackers were assembled. Thrix, Dominil, Kalix, Decembrius, Eskandor, Feargan, Barra, Wallace and Morag looked at each other. Thrix produced an unopened bottle of the MacRinnalch whisky and nine crystal goblets, previously unused.
“Nice glasses,” said Decembrius.
“Edinburgh crystal, eighteen seventy-five,” said Thrix. “A present from my mother.”