The Curse of the Wolf Girl (40 page)

Moonglow was alarmed by the unexpected kiss and more alarmed when Daniel collapsed to the floor.

She cried out something that Daniel thought might have been to do with a curse, but it was noisy in the room, and he was too ill to concentrate.

Moonglow took his arm and helped him to his feet. They tried to make their way to the back of the room, through the great crowd of revelers who were currently jeering quite amiably at the stage. Delicious had taped the set list to the floor next to her mic stand and had now managed to destroy it with a spilled pint of beer.

“Does anyone know what song we’re playing next?” she asked, vaguely. There were several suggestions from the crowd, but none from the band.

Dominil lost all of her remaining patience. At this rate, Yum Yum Sugary Snacks would be the talk of Camden, famed for their shambling incompetence. Dominil didn’t intend to let that happen and advanced towards the stage, intent on dragging them off.

“Dominil,” came a voice, loudly, through the speakers.

Dominil froze, imagining at first that it was some ploy by Albermarle. It was worse than that. Pete the guitarist, almost as intoxicated as the twins, had made his way towards Beauty’s mic and was now pointing at Dominil. Several hundred heads turned towards her with interest.

“I love that woman!”

There were some raucous cheers.

“But since we slept together, she won’t speak to me again!”

The crowd erupted at the news. There was laughter, mingled with cries of “Shame!” and “Give him another chance!” Dominil found herself rooted to the spot, almost paralyzed by Pete’s unexpected announcement. In her Yum Yum Sugary Snacks T-shirt, she had the uncomfortable feeling that she looked like a groupie, and she didn’t know where to look as the crowd stared at her.

If the audience was hugely entertained by Pete’s antics, Beauty and Delicious were equally astonished.

“You slept with Dominil?” yelled Beauty at Pete.

“The one with the white hair?” added Delicious, helpfully.

“Yes,” wailed Pete.

“Is that why you’ve been miserable?” shouted Beauty, her voice booming through the amplifier. “We thought it was because of that slutty barmaid at the Rose and Crown.”

“Hey!” came a voice from the crowd. “Who are you calling slutty?”

Dominil, who was afraid of nothing, found herself unable to cope with public ridicule. She turned on her heel and barged the people behind her out of the way, leaving the room pursued by a great deal of laughter and a few more anguished cries from Pete. At the door, Dominil ran into Moonglow, who was helping a semi-conscious Daniel out of the warehouse.

“He’s not very well. Can you help me get him outside?”

Without speaking, Dominil stretched out one hand, lifted Daniel in the air, brushed some onlookers aside, and carried him outside. Dominil deposited Daniel on the pavement, then looked sharply at Moonglow.

“Does everyone have to drink so much?” she demanded then turned and walked swiftly away, her expression still dark with anger.

Moonglow called after her to tell Vex what had happened, but Dominil didn’t acknowledge her.

Moonglow helped Daniel, who was sweating freely and looked very ill, into the car, took his car keys out of his pocket, got behind the wheel, and started the car. She kept sneaking anxious glances at him as she drove, wondering if this was really the result of Malveria’s curse. Had Daniel triggered it by kissing her? She wasn’t quite sure what form the curse might take and wouldn’t have been that surprised to see Daniel turning into molten lava or something else equally horrible. She fretted over his health and blamed herself for not making it clearer that kissing was quite out of the question.

“Perhaps it’s just flu,” she thought, as they headed south over the River Thames, which was black under the night sky. “Or some sort of norovirus. They can make you ill really quickly.”

* * *

Hundreds of miles to the north, in Colburn Woods, Queen Malveria turned her head to gaze intently into the distance.

“What is taking Distikka so long?” she muttered. “I really fear the werewolves have eaten her.”

“Can a Fire Elemental be eaten by werewolves?” wondered Dithean aloud.

“Of course. And we make for a very wholesome feast.”

“I’m not certain of that. Elementals are much like fairies, and no werewolf could devour me.”

“Please, dear Dithean, the fairy legends that the Elementals are merely a branch of the fairy line are quite mistaken.”

Dithean laughed. It was the fairies’ belief that the Elementals were indeed merely a type of fairy, but Malveria would never allow this to be true, claiming for herself a quite different heritage.

“Distikka, while small, would be very nourishing. But I really hope she hasn’t been eaten. I’m very keen to attend this opera.”

Albermarle’s subordinates, code-named Orion and Pictor, waited impatiently for their boss to arrive. They’d arranged to meet in the early evening, close to the warehouse in Kentish Town, but Albermarle hadn’t shown up. It was puzzling. Though Albermarle was an odd person and not popular in the guild, he was known to be punctual. They’d seen various revelers troop by on their way into the warehouse and had experienced a frisson of excitement when Dominil appeared: tall, white-haired, and distinctive. According to Albermarle, Dominil was a cousin of the Thane and held a seat on the Great Council of the MacRinnalchs. If they managed to kill her, their status in the Avenaris Guild would rise dramatically. Fellow hunters might talk about them in the same admiring way they talked of Easterly.

“Where
is
he?” muttered Orion. “If he doesn’t get here soon, we’ll miss our chance.”

His companion peered out the rear window of the white van that was parked half on the road, half on the pavement, anonymous among a long line of vehicles laid up for the night.

“Probably still eating.”

They laughed.

“Is it true he really used to weigh three hundred and fifty pounds?” Albermarle had lost weight since those days, but his appetite for junk food was still legendary. The hunters stopped laughing, remembering they were here on serious business. They were armed, and they’d both spent a lot of time in the shooting range beneath guild headquarters.

Kentish Town was quiet. The North London pubs had emptied, the kebab shops had closed, and the drinkers had gone home. Though the party at the warehouse was going on through the night, not many others were about. Minicabs drove by occasionally, and a double-decker night bus crawled up Highgate Road, but there were few pedestrians on the dark streets.

“What if she appears again and Albermarle isn’t here?”

“We follow orders. Observe, but don’t approach.”

They flattened themselves in their seats as a police car cruised by, not wanting to be noticed and asked awkward questions. As the police car disappeared from view, Pictor nudged his companion. “There she is.”

Dominil had reemerged from the warehouse, talked briefly to a young couple, then walked off alone. Orion engaged the engine and moved the van cautiously into the road. Ahead of them, Dominil took an abrupt turn and vanished down a side street.

Orion turned into the same street then halted. Dominil was nowhere in sight. “Where is she?”

The young hunters were unsure of what to do. Albermarle had instructed them to keep Dominil under observation until he arrived, but Albermarle hadn’t turned up, and now they were in danger of losing the werewolf. Orion, the senior of the pair, took control.

“I’m going to look.” He opened the door.

“We were told not to get out of the van,” protested his companion, but Orion slipped out and stood in the poorly illuminated street, straining for a sight or sound of Dominil.

“She must have—” he began but didn’t finish the sentence. A white werewolf appeared from seemingly nowhere, moving at tremendous speed. She clamped her jaws around Orion’s shoulder, crushing the bone. Then, too quickly for Pictor to prevent it, she grabbed the door of the van and wrenched it open. Pictor found himself dragged half out of the vehicle, his face only inches away from the terrifying white beast’s jaws, which dripped with the blood of his companion.

“I have a message for Albermarle,” growled Dominil, quite distinctly. Pictor shook with fear, terrified to actually hear a werewolf speak.

“What message?” he gasped.

Dominil picked up Orion’s unconscious body as easily as if it had been a doll and flung it into the van. “His attempts to frighten me aren’t working.”

The werewolf closed the door without slamming it. Pictor saw her transform back to human. Still shaking with fear, he fumbled with the ignition key, finally started the van, and sped off.

Dominil walked swiftly back to the warehouse. Two girls stumbled out of the entrance, clutching at each other for support.

“It’s Pete’s girlfriend!” they cried. Dominil gave them her fiercest scowl, but they were too inebriated to notice and were loudly wondering if Dominil’s long white hair was natural as she went silently back into the warehouse.

Moonglow was desperately anxious when she arrived home with Daniel. She’d driven them home, though she only had a provisional license and wasn’t insured to drive Daniel’s car. Normally a law-abiding woman, she’d only done it because of her concern that Daniel might be about to die. She wondered if she should take him to the hospital. Daniel thought he had food poisoning or perhaps the flu, but Daniel didn’t know about Malveria’s curse. They struggled upstairs.

Kalix had to move sharply as Daniel slumped onto the couch.

“Good night then?” asked Decembrius, assuming Daniel was drunk.

Moonglow glared at him, not pleased to find him here. “He’s sick.” She paused. “Kalix, are you doing homework?”

“No,” said Kalix, and she tried to hide her book by sitting on it.

“It’s good that you’re doing homework!” said Moonglow, so excited by the development that she temporarily forgot Daniel.

Kalix mumbled something inaudible and looked embarrassed. “What’s wrong with Daniel?”

“I’m not sure. Help me lay him out on the couch.”

Decembrius made to assist, but Kalix shooed him away. “You should go now.”

“I thought I was helping you.”

“Daniel needs peace. Go away.”

“Fine,” growled Decembrius. “To hell with you.” Decembrius left swiftly, looking annoyed.

Daniel had now given up protesting that he didn’t feel too badly. Sweat poured from his forehead, though he was shivering as if from the cold. Moonglow took the old gray blanket from the back of the couch and placed it over him.

“I think he’s got the flu,” said Moonglow, dubiously. “I’ll get some paracetamol.”

As she hunted in the kitchen cabinet for some pills, Moonglow felt close to panic. Had the brief kiss really brought on Malveria’s curse? If it had, what would the result be? And what could she do about it? Should she tell Kalix? Kalix wouldn’t be able to help lift a Hiyasta curse, but perhaps Thrix could help. Moonglow resolved to watch Daniel closely. If he seemed to be getting worse, then she’d tell Kalix everything and apply to Thrix for assistance.

Moonglow felt furious at Malveria. Why had she placed them under such a ridiculous curse in the first place? It was unreasonable. Although, reflected Moonglow, she had acceded to it willingly enough at the time. It had saved Kalix’s life.

“Malveria could have just saved Kalix’s life anyway, without making up ridiculous curses,” she thought, angrily. “After all the help I’ve given her with makeup, not to mention comforting her after her fashion disasters.”

Moonglow resolved to have some harsh words with the Fire Queen. Or would that just make everything worse? Moonglow worried more and didn’t know what to do about anything.

Though Captain Easterly and Albermarle had never been friendly, the fight that erupted between them after Easterly bailed his cousin out of jail was their worst ever.

“How,” raged Easterly, “am I supposed to get close to Thrix MacRinnalch if I have to leave in the middle of a fashion show to rescue my idiot cousin after he’s been caught trying to rob Dominil’s apartment? What were you doing there anyway?”

“I needed to visit her flat while she was away.”

“What for?”

“It was part of my plan. But it went wrong. She moved out before I got there.”

Albermarle had been in the process of letting himself into the flat with a duplicate key when he found himself confronted by an angry family member who’d called the police. Arriving unusually rapidly, they’d apprehended Albermarle. His claim that he thought he’d been visiting a friend’s apartment had failed to convince.

On hearing the pitiful tale, Easterly came close to exploding. “You don’t need a plan to kill Dominil! You just shoot her with a silver bullet! Like you could have done tonight, except you decided to burgle her flat instead.”

Albermarle squirmed. He was already in trouble with the guild. After he’d failed to turn up to meet his subordinates, one of them had been quite badly injured. Pictor had disobeyed orders by leaving the van, but Albermarle hadn’t been there to supervise him.

“I’m amazed they haven’t thrown you out of the guild already. They probably will tomorrow when the board of directors meet.”

They stood in one of the plushly carpeted corridors in their apartment block. The air was tinged with the scent of the many large potted plants that surrounded the elevator, well-tended in moist earth. Albermarle had the remnants of a bowl of cereal in his hand, and his huge T-shirt flopped outside his trousers.

“I was gathering intelligence,” he mumbled defensively.

“No, you weren’t. You were trying to psych her out. What did you plan to do in her flat? Write a message on the wall saying ‘I know where you live, I’m coming to get you’?”

Albermarle’s face colored, but he didn’t reply.

“Do you have any idea how pathetic this is? Your job is to kill Dominil, not get revenge on her. So what if she ignored you at university? No one cares. Just get over it.”