The Curse of the Wolf Girl (63 page)

Kalix half-dreamed and half-imagined that she was Baby Wolf in the forest and Robber Wolf rescued her from the huntsmen who’d captured her. She woke up startled, looking around for hunters, then realized it was a dream. The thought of Baby Wolf being rescued by Robber Wolf brought a brief ray of sunshine into her troubled soul. A moment later, a cart from the buffet car was pushed noisily through the carriage, with a caterer offering tea and coffee, and Kalix snarled angrily at the woman, confusing her for a second with Moonglow, who was always trying to force her to eat. The travelers around Kalix tried to ignore this further piece of antisocial behavior and checked their watches, longing to arrive in Edinburgh and be free of their uncongenial traveling companion.

* * *

When the train finally pulled into Waverly Station in Edinburgh, Kalix rose swiftly. As she headed towards the door, people stepped out of the way as if she might be contagious. Kalix walked through the turnstile, handing her crumpled ticket to a bored-looking attendant, then walked swiftly through the concourse. She had to push her way through a crowd who’d gathered round a stall offering free cupcakes, advertising a local bakery. Someone actually thrust a small cake into her hand. Kalix mangled it in her palm and dropped it on the concourse. Several pigeons, wheeling about in the space below the great transparent panels of the station roof, descended swiftly to squabble over the crumbs. Kalix ignored them and picked up her pace, barging through the crowd. Two transport policemen looked at her curiously but didn’t interfere.

As she emerged from the station, night was falling, and the fog was thickening. She pulled a scrap of paper from the deep pockets of her coat. The flier gave the location of the gig where she’d find Dominil. Kalix had been in Edinburgh several times as a girl and knew where she was going. She marched swiftly through the city, looking neither left nor right, snarling occasionally at pedestrians who blocked her way on the street. Blood now dripped from inside the sleeve of her coat onto her hand, the result of the wounds she’d self-inflicted and scratched again on the journey. The letter “N” on her arm was now completely obliterated. Kalix had given up pretending to be normal.

Decembrius made a strong recovery. His sleep had cost him an hour in journey time, but the bold move of taking on his werewolf form completely revived him. He felt well. Promising himself that he’d be revenged on the Douglas-MacPhees sometime, he put his car into gear and rejoined the freeway.

“Time to rescue that idiot Kalix,” he muttered and grinned. He liked the idea of rescuing Kalix.

He presumed that she’d be heading for the Yum Yum Sugary Snacks gig. That’s where Dominil would be. There might be a few younger werewolves at the gig, Decembrius supposed, but no one who was senior in the clan. Any of the older werewolves who’d chosen to leave their homelands for Edinburgh this weekend would most probably have gone to Andamair House to support the Mistress of the Werewolves. That was fortunate for Kalix. If she did run into any senior members of the clan, they’d certainly attempt to detain her and take her back to the castle. Kalix might be allowed, through the influence of her mother, to exist quietly in London, but they wouldn’t put up with her impudence in appearing back in Scotland.

As a member of the Great Council, Decembrius himself might find himself criticized for going to the gig rather than the opera, but he didn’t care. What could they do? Expel him from the council? Decembrius knew he was unsuitable to be on the council anyway. Let them expel him. His bravado was temporarily reduced by the thought of what his mother would say. Decembrius didn’t exactly fear Lucia but hated it when she lectured him, as she undoubtedly would were he banished from the council. She’d never let him hear the end of it. Decembrius dismissed thoughts of his mother and drove on, as fast as he dared, without attracting unwanted attention from the occasional police car that sat on the shoulder. Being pulled over for speeding was the last thing he needed. He wasn’t sure what time Kalix had caught the train, but he’d be lucky if he reached the gig in time.

“Don’t kill Dominil, Kalix,” he muttered. “The MacRinnalchs will never forgive you. You’ll have to flee the country.”

Musing that fleeing the country with Kalix didn’t seem like that bad an idea, he pulled out into the right-hand lane, sped past several articulated trucks, and found himself now only eighty miles from Edinburgh, and making good time.

As the doors to the auditorium opened and the crowd in the outside rooms began to file in to hear the performance, Princess Kabachetka managed to isolate Captain Easterly for a few moments of snatched conversation. “Easterly, is everything in order?”

“Yes.”

“You must be sure to strike quickly. At the start of the performance, I will cause Queen Malveria to be stranded between dimensions. Soon afterwards the enchantress will lose her powers. You must kill her quickly, in case the queen returns.”

“I know the plan.”

The princess smiled and looked happier than Easterly had ever seen her.

“Do you require more of my power?”

Easterly shook his head. “I have enough.”

The princess touched his arm anyway, and he felt some heat flow into his body. “Just in case. It would not do for the enchantress to discover you at the last minute. It is fortunate you encountered me, Easterly. Without my powers, you could not have concealed yourself from her sorcery. You would have been discovered as a hunter and killed.”

“I suppose so.”

“You know the enchantress would kill you instantly were she to discover the truth?”

Easterly made no reply.

Princess Kabachetka’s eyes narrowed. She still had her doubts about Easterly. “When I am heir to the Hainusta throne and Distikka is ruler of the Hiyasta, you will have many powerful friends. Or many powerful enemies, if you get things wrong.”

“I won’t get things wrong. And who do you think you’re threatening anyway? You think you scare me, Princess?”

The princess laughed. “Not as much as I should. But that’s because you don’t fully appreciate my power. Kill the enchantress when the chance arrives, Easterly, and we shall all be happy. Now excuse me, my ridiculous brother and his appalling consort are approaching, and I must take them into the auditorium. I trust that my appearance in these splendid shoes had the desired effect on the enchantress and the Fire Queen?”

“They were upset.”

The princess laughed once more. She’d known that securing the Abukenti shoes and scoring such a fashion triumph would wound Thrix and Malveria deeply. She’d accurately predicted that both would resort to wine to bolster their crushed spirits and consequently let down their guards even further. Which, she observed, they had. Neither Thrix nor Malveria could be said to be at their brightest at the moment.

The princess disappeared in the crush, and Easterly found himself beside the Mistress of the Werewolves as he entered the auditorium. She greeted him stiffly.

“My daughter’s companion,” she said to a woman Easterly didn’t recognize. Probably a MacRinnalch, from the cast of her features.

Easterly felt a sudden thrill, knowing that he was in the presence of many werewolves, and here under the unwitting protection of one of their number. How many MacRinnalchs might be in the audience tonight? In amongst the crowd of wealthy patrons of the arts, Easterly was sure he’d spotted at least five or six probable werewolves. He’d have to be very careful to dispose of Thrix in some private way to allow himself a chance of escape. It was a task only the most expert of werewolf hunters could manage. He wondered where that most inexpert of werewolf hunters Albermarle was. In London, he hoped. If he followed up on his plan to attack Dominil tonight, he would surely die. Albermarle and his junior associates just didn’t have the strength to cope with Dominil, particularly as there was every likelihood of other werewolves being around her at the gig. These werewolves would be unaffected by the princess’s spell. When she brought on the eclipse of the moon to steal the enchantress’s powers, it would only work in a small area. Anyone outside of Andamair House would be unaffected. If Albermarle chose that moment to attack Dominil, he’d undoubtedly be defeated.

The Thane was not at his best. He greeted guests and charmed benefactors while sharing hosting duties with his mother but seemed, for some reason, distracted.

“Are you all right?” asked Beatrice, not for the first time.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You keep looking over your shoulder.”

Markus brushed the question aside, claiming to be merely concerned that their guests were all being properly looked after. But Markus was indeed distracted. He was here with Beatrice at his side, while Heather was, as far as he knew, currently working backstage. If Heather appeared in the reception hall while he was with Beatrice, there was going to be an embarrassing scene.

“I really should have organized things better,” he told himself. “I am Thane, after all.”

Just before the assembled crowd was due to filter into the auditorium, the Mistress of the Werewolves approached him, embraced him, and thanked him warmly for his support. “I really couldn’t have organized this without you.”

Markus embraced his mother in return, unselfconsciously. Verasa smiled at Beatrice. She’d come to like the young castle-archivist more and more and now regarded her as a reasonably suitable partner for her son. While she was not from the most glorious of werewolf heritages—which would have been better, given that Markus was Thane—she was at least respectable. As far as Verasa had been able to find out, there were no skeletons in the young werewolf’s closet. Nothing that might bring disgrace on the clan. If only, thought Verasa, she could encourage Markus to settle down, the clan might finally settle into some sort of peace and sobriety. Though the scars of the recent feud had faded, they hadn’t disappeared. Nothing would unite the MacRinnalchs like a good wedding, particularly one that involved the Thane.

Verasa’s attention was claimed by a party of executives from a banking corporation who were very large sponsors of the event. She led them into the hall, leaving Markus and Beatrice behind.

Beatrice, who always felt a little tense in the presence of the Mistress of the Werewolves, relaxed. “I think she’s starting to like me.”

Markus smiled. “She always did like you. She just wasn’t sure if you were a suitable partner.”

“It’s a pity my family didn’t fight at Bannockburn.” The MacRinnalchs had a proud history. They had often marched to war in support of the kings of Scotland. Unfortunately, Beatrice’s family didn’t seem to include any illustrious ancestors.

“But no humans either.” Markus smiled. “That would really be the end.”

They kissed. A photographer took their picture, because Markus was so handsome, and they made an excellent couple.

“Hello, Markus.”

They stopped kissing and looked around. Heather MacAllister was smiling at them.

“Hello,” said Heather, brightly, to Beatrice. “I’m Markus’s girlfriend. Or I thought I was. And you would be?”

Cameron MacRinnalch’s previous gigs had been moderately successful without attracting a huge amount of interest. Cameron would have been surprised to learn of the efforts that were now being made by various people to get there. Kalix, fresh off the train from London, was marching through the foggy city, paying scant regard to traffic or pedestrians, eyes fixed on some point a few feet ahead of her on the pavement, her mouth hanging open. Decembrius was some way behind but not far from the city. He wondered if he should look for a parking space in the middle of town, which might be difficult, or abandon his car further out and hurry onwards on foot. Meanwhile Vex had popped up on a small island off the north coast of Scotland and was wondering why there was so much sea everywhere. Fierce breakers rumbled towards her on the shore.

“Hmm. This doesn’t look right.”

She attempted to ask a seal, rolling lazily on the beach, if she was anywhere near Edinburgh, but the seal didn’t seem in the mood for talking. Vex looked quizzically at her map, glanced at the sun, trying to gauge which direction she might be going in, then set off again, disappearing from view and leaving the seal in peace.

* * *

Inside the small venue, Dominil wasn’t impressed. “Having driven four hundred miles, I expected something better.”

Dominil regarded her surroundings with distaste. The club was little more than a cellar underneath a tattoo parlor, with a tiny stage, a small bar, and not much room for an audience. It was dark, smelled of damp, and the dressing room was the size of a cupboard.

“The warehouse was better than this.”

“Relax,” said Pete. “It’s rock and roll.”

“I hate it,” mumbled Beauty. Neither she nor her sister had yet embraced the spirit of rock and roll. Both were still suffering from nerves. Dominil suggested that they retire to the small dressing room and attend to their makeup, which, she knew, would occupy their attention. The twins did so, closing the door behind them, leaving Dominil and the others to set up their equipment.

“They’ll be fine once the gig starts,” said Dominil.

“Have you had a boyfriend recently?” asked Pete, trying and failing to sound casual.

“No, but I’ve had some stalkers,” muttered Dominil, and busied herself preparing for the soundcheck. It didn’t take long to set up. The stage was barely large enough for their amplifiers and speakers.

“Are the twins ready to soundcheck?”

Dominil went to check on them, hoping that the process of doing their makeup would have calmed them down. The other alternative was that they’d be lying on the floor in an advanced state of intoxication. She slipped into the tiny dressing room.

“What on Earth?”

Beauty, perched on a chair in front of a cracked mirror, was in her werewolf shape. That was a surprise, because neither of the twins could transform at will.