The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf (46 page)

Thrix appeared in front of her. “You're on,” said Thrix.

“I can't do it!” cried Kalix.

“Why not?”

“I'm going to change into a werewolf!”

“Don't be ridiculous. Why would you do that?”

“It's Daniel's fault! Don't send me out!” cried Kalix.

“Get out there and model these clothes!” said Thrix, and pushed Kalix through the curtain.

Kalix emerged into the spotlight, still cursing Daniel for his foolish chatter. If he hadn't suggested she might get the urge to transform it would never have occurred to her. Now she couldn't think of anything else.

I can't stop myself, she thought. It's going to happen.

Now she was on the runway, there was nothing to do but carry on. Kalix clenched her fists. Her face froze into her fiercest scowl as she tried to hold the panic at bay. She could barely see the spot she was heading for, and marched toward it with her head bowed. The audience looked on with amazement. So far they'd been treated to a rather anodyne collection of wholesome young debutantes in light summer outfits. Kalix took them by surprise. She stormed down the runway with her black clothes and pale face, her abnormally long hair streaming down her back in a tangled mess. Her slender legs, bare from ankle to thigh, looked as if they'd never seen sunlight, or even daylight. Her expression was murderous. Most dramatic of all, blood was now seeping from one of the scars on her arm where she'd rubbed too vigorously.

Kalix arrived at the end of the runway and realized she didn't know what to do next. She glared through the spotlights at the people in the front row with loathing, and looked for a moment as if she might leap from the catwalk and attack them. Her wide red mouth twisted into an ugly snarl, accentuated by her heavy dark lip gloss. She growled, loudly enough to be heard over the music, then turned on her heel and stormed back up the runway. The audience, previously silent, began to show their appreciation. By the time Kalix stumbled back through the curtain, she was being loudly applauded.

“I must say, the crowd liked you,” said the Fire Queen.

“I thought they would,” said Thrix. “Nice job, Kalix, you really sold that outfit.”

“I can't go out again,” said Kalix urgently.

“Yes, you can. Get these clothes off and get into the new outfit.”

“I'm going to turn into a werewolf!”

Thrix brushed this off. “No, you won't. Now hurry, there's not much time for the turnaround. Malveria, help me get these boots off.”

Kalix stood rigidly as she was undressed and dressed again. Though she was suffering, her sister seemed to think that everything was going well.

“This time, pause a little longer in front of the editors at the end of the runway.”

“Should someone wipe the blood from her arm?” asked the Fire Queen.

“Just leave it,” said Thrix.

“I'm going to have a panic attack!” yelled Kalix.

“You can do that later. Right now, get out there and model.”

“I hate you all,” said Kalix as they prepared to push her through the curtain again.

Kalix was thrust onto the catwalk, to the sound of more applause.

“You know, dearest friend,” said the Fire Queen to Thrix. “All the things that people have written in disapproval of models, you seem to have rolled up into one package and sent down the catwalk.”

“I know. If I'm lucky someone will complain.”

“That would be splendid publicity,” agreed the Fire Queen. “I must say, Enchantress, it has been a novel experience for me, acting as your assistant.”

“I appreciate it,” said Thrix with a straight face, though Malveria had lent almost no help. “Dominil, you're on.”

Dominil, bored by the proceedings, was now listening to music on her iPod. Thrix tapped her shoulder. Dominil removed the headphones.

“What are you listening to?”

“Schoenberg's orchestration of Brahms.”

“Of course. What else? It's time for you to make your debut.”

Dominil placed her iPhone carefully in her bag and stood up just as Kalix crashed back through the curtain. The young werewolf stumbled toward a chair and sat down heavily.

“Modeling is terrible,” she moaned.

“It's my turn again!” cried Vex, and sprinted through the curtain. Vex had also proved popular with the audience, being slender, beautiful, well dressed and, unlike Kalix, showing no sign of psychopathic rage. She completely ignored the instructions Thrix had given her, and walked down the runway smiling and waving at people, turning back occasionally to wave some more. She halted at the end of the catwalk and peered over at the front row.

“Are you the editor of
Vogue
? Really? My aunt loves you! You'll probably meet her later. Bye!”

Vex tripped back up the runway, leaving the front row laughing. Only the Empress was unamused.

“I still cannot believe that Thrix MacRinnalch has invaded my event,” she hissed in Distikka's ear. “And sent out the loathsome Kalix and the appalling Agrivex as models. The effrontery is incredible!”

The Empress controlled herself, sat up straight and looked dignified. “I will have my revenge,” she muttered.

CHAPTER 86

Dominil strode coolly down the runway with a look of disdain on her face. When she reached the far end of the catwalk she paused for a few seconds, as if studying someone in the audience. After this brief hesitation, she retreated elegantly up the runway, to great applause. There was by this time a certain buzz in the audience about Thrix MacRinnalch. Her designs had been well received, but it was her models that had really drawn attention. She'd certainly sent some unusual young women down the catwalk. Kalix and Vex had both been extremely notable, and Dominil's long, snow-white white hair and frozen beauty would have captivated any crowd. Thrix thanked them all sincerely, even Kalix. When Daniel arrived back from his trip down the runway with a look of fear still etched on his face, she thanked him too.

“You did well.”

“It was so scary walking in front of all these people!”

“You were good. Thanks for being a model.”

Daniel hadn't expected any gratitude from Thrix, and felt his spirits revive.

“I did do all right didn't I?”

“You were great!” enthused Vex. “You didn't look like you were going to fall off at all, hardly anyway.”

The fashion show was coming to an end. Soon it would be time to auction the clothes. The room backstage was still crowded and noisy, though the air of panic had now passed. Dominil drew the party close to talk to them privately.

“I've identified our targets. Listen carefully. Queen Malveria, please take care of the Empress Kabachetka, at least for the early part of the evening. We need freedom to operate, and I don't want her to interfere by way of sorcery. Can you do that?”

“Block her sorcery? Yes. But it will be tedious, remaining in her company. There are several men here whose acquaintance I was hoping to cultivate.”

“There will be time for that later. Thrix—a representative from the Avenaris Guild will be turning up soon. Deal with him. By which I mean see what you can learn, not kill him. Your sorcerous protection will make sure he doesn't know you're a werewolf.”

“How do you know he's coming?” asked Thrix.

Dominil tapped her iPad. “I've accessed the hotel's system. I know all the rooms the Empress has hired. Distikka has booked a meeting with a Mr. Eggers. I recognize the name.”

Thrix smiled, quite grimly. She seemed satisfied with her task.

Dominil turned to Daniel. “I saw several Fire Elementals in the audience. One of those was, I believe, Lady Gezinka, her secretary. Gezinka may know the location of the Guild. She is your target.”

“My target?” said Daniel. “What am I meant to do?”

“Use your initiative.”

“I'm not really that good with my initiative.”

“Engage her in conversation and do what you can. That is, after all, why you are here. Kalix and Vex, I want you to target the Empress's other adviser, Bakmer. From the few seconds I saw him, I judge him to be young and insecure. He may be susceptible to the attentions of two young models.”

Dominil looked around at her companions. “I will engage with Distikka. I doubt she'll give anything away. But I will at least keep her occupied, giving the others a chance.”

She looked down at her feet. “These high heels are uncomfortable and impractical. Now, is everyone clear on their mission?”

CHAPTER 87

The Fire Queen made her first foray into the room outside, where she immediately encountered her rival.

“Kabachetka! How splendid to see you here. I had no idea you would be attending.”

“Really?” replied the Empress very civilly. “I am the sponsor, you know.”

“I had not noticed.”

“Perhaps the Queen is tired these days, and does not notice things so well.”

Malveria kept smiling. “I do notice that my former adviser is lurking behind you, Empress, though I hardly recognize her in a dress. How fare you, Distikka? Have you been busy since you tried to overthrow me?”

Distikka bowed to the Fire Queen. “Greetings, Fire Queen. The
attempted coup was terrible, was it not? An insane idea by General Agripath. I tried my best to dissuade him.”

“Very likely, I'm sure. Despite having no involvement, you felt the need to flee to Kabachetka?”

“No doubt because I am more generous,” said the Empress.

“The Fire Queen is famous for her lavish generosity,” said Malveria.

“Generosity of her hips, perhaps.”

“What did you say? Why, I'll . . .” The Fire Queen stepped forward angrily. She felt herself delicately restrained by a hand on her shoulder. Dominil stepped forward, not wanting a fight to erupt that would interfere with her plans for espionage.

“Ah,” said the Empress. “One of Thrix's singular models.”

“Thrix's show was a great triumph, was it not?” said the Queen.

“I favored another designer,” said the Empress sniffily.

“But the audience did not.”

“The audience may have been swayed by the collection of strange and freakish models. The clothes were very ordinary.”

“Thrix's clothes are most superior, as you have learned to your cost.”

“I believe I've seen you before,” said Dominil to Distikka, interrupting the Fire Queen and the Empress.

“That is unlikely,” replied Distikka.

“In the Courtauld Gallery.”

“Ah. That would be possible. And you are?”

“Dominil MacRinnalch.”

Distikka nodded, as if recognizing the name.

Dominil indicated a vacant table. “Would you care to discuss the gallery?”

Distikka looked carefully at Dominil for a moment or two. “Why not?” she replied. They sat down together, leaving the Fire Queen and the Empress to insult each other in their politest voices.

“So you are Dominil MacRinnalch,” said Distikka. “I've heard several things about you. I understand you're not the most popular of werewolves.”

“That's true.”

“And you're intelligent and scientific.”

“Yes.”

They paused while a waiter arrived. Distikka accepted two glasses of champagne from his tray and gave one to Dominil. Around there was a bustle of activity as preparations were made to auction the clothes that had been on display.

“Isn't it strange, being scientific and also being a werewolf?” asked Distikka.

“What do you mean?”

“As I understand science on your planet, it doesn't believe in werewolves.”

“It does not,” agreed Dominil. “But no doubt there is a scientific explanation. We just haven't found it yet.”

“And Fire Elementals?”

“Likewise.”

Distikka laughed. “I doubt that the scientists at CERN are ever going to find an explanation for the Empress Kabachetka and Queen Malveria.”

“No doubt all these beings can eventually be explained,” said Dominil.

“Perhaps as part of a grand unification theory,” said Distikka.

“I didn't expect to meet a Fire Elemental with a knowledge of particle physics.”

“I like to read. I have wide interests. But so do you, Dominil. From computers to Latin poetry.”

Dominil looked at her companion carefully. “You seem to know a great deal about me.”

“Our intelligence services are very efficient. You're quite a talented artist too.”

“What of it?”

“It's unusual for one person to have all these attributes. And here you are as a model. Another talent.”