The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf (81 page)

“Are you sure this is the wall that joins on to the Guild's building?” she asked.

“Quite sure,” said Dominil.

Decembrius was next to arrive, tapping discreetly on the door and slipping inside.

“Did you see anything unusual?” asked Dominil.

“Nothing. Just went to my room, waited, and came here. The whole place seems quiet.”

“Good.”

“Time for your revenge,” said Decembrius.

“I'm here on a mission, I'm not looking for revenge,” said Dominil.

“I am,” said Thrix.

There was another gentle tap on the door. Eskandor, Feargan and Barra strode into the room.

“The MacRinnalchs are here,” said Wallace. There was a gentle touch of mockery in his voice, but no one responded. Seconds later there was another knock. It was Kalix. She came in without saying anything and stood awkwardly at the side of the room. With the shortage of attackers, no one had objected to her presence, but it was still odd for her to be in the company of so many werewolves while she was still an outlaw.

“Everyone's here,” said Thrix.

“Does everyone remember their instructions?” asked Dominil. Using what little knowledge she had of the layout of the Guild's headquarters, garnered mainly from communications she'd intercepted in the past, Dominil had sketched out a plan of action, giving each attacker a specific target. “You do? Good. Then it's time to begin.”

Thrix took the purple flower from the antique purse and laid it on the floor. Outside the night was cold and dark and the moon had been in the
sky for some time. Thrix changed into her werewolf shape, and the others followed her.

A phone rang.

Thrix twisted her head and looked at them furiously. “I told you all to switch off your phones.”

“I left mine on in case of news from the castle,” said Dominil. She glanced at her phone. Her white werewolf brow wrinkled. “That's the fourth time Daniel has called me.”

“Don't answer it,” said Kalix, who didn't want her friends to make a fuss over her.

“If someone calls four times, perhaps they have something to say that needs listening to,” said Dominil.

Thrix paid no attention. She was already moving her hands over the purple bloom on the floor. She spoke several sentences in a language that no one in the room had ever heard before, repeating the spell of the long-dead Maynista princess. Immediately, the flower glowed with a soft light, before projecting a beam onto the wall.

“It's done,” said Thrix.

The assembled werewolves gazed at the large oval of purple light on the wall of the hotel room.

“We just step through that and we're in their headquarters,” said Thrix.

“Let's go,” said Wallace, stepping toward the wall. The others rose to follow.

“One moment,” said Dominil.

“What is it?” asked Thrix, frustrated at the delay.

“I've just listened to my messages from Daniel. We have a problem.”

CHAPTER 159

“My evening is blighted,” complained Empress Kabachetka. “Why does it happen so often that my evenings are blighted?”

“I'm sure you won't need the extra shoes,” said Alchet.

“One never knows when one will need extra shoes,” said Kabachetka. “These fashion shows are full of ruffians, treading on the feet of their betters.”

The Empress's new bag, crafted by her sorcerers to be capable of carrying clothes between dimensions, had mysteriously gone missing from her chambers.

“There will be executions, Alchet. Whoever has that bag will die very swiftly. Where are we?”

“Close to the store, I think,” said Alchet. She looked up nervously at the dark sky above. She hated being in this dimension, fearing that at any moment she might be rained on.

“Pick up the pace, Alchet, we must hurry.”

The search for the bag had delayed the Empress, much to her frustration. Arriving late was normally not a bad thing to do but the Empress had other affairs to take care of.

“Remember, Alchet, when we locate our seats, you are to guard mine with your life. If any interloper attempts to usurp my place, you are to kill them.”

“Kill them?” wailed Alchet.

“Yes. With great violence. Some of these fashion journalists understand nothing else.”

They entered the large store, making their way toward the space that had been cleared in the center of the ground floor for Takahashi's show.

“If you see me in conversation with Donatella Versace, don't let anyone interrupt us.”

“How will I do that?”

“Kill any who approach.”

“I'm really not very good at killing people,” protested Alchet. She was a very young Fire Elemental, and had never been to war.

“You are not much good at anything,” said the Empress, testily.

“I cannot agree with that,” said Malveria, appearing in front of them. “Alchet is renowned for her powers of emergency make-up repair, which is why the Empress so often requires her services. But the Empress cannot help having so many natural blemishes.”

The Empress glowered at the Fire Queen. “I have no natural blemishes. And what are you doing here?”

“Performing my duties as a leader of fashion, naturally.”

The Empress compressed her lips, wishing she could insult Malveria's outfit, but not being able to find fault with it.

“I am indeed looking splendid,” said the Fire Queen, reading her enemy's mind. “It is such a blessing to have Thrix MacRinnalch designing for me.”

“You think so? I have never been that impressed. But perhaps Thrix MacRinnalch will not be around forever.”

The Fire Queen and the Empress stared at each other, each striving to conceal their aura, while reading the other's.

“I see no prospect of her departure,” said the Fire Queen.

“You may be surprised,” said the Empress.

Both rulers searched for a crushing put-down, but were interrupted by Alchet.

“I like your boots,” she said to Vex.

“Thanks,” said Vex. “That's a nice necklace.”

“Stop exchanging pleasantries!” roared the Empress.

“My niece will exchange pleasantries if she wishes,” said the Fire Queen. “And really, Alchet is looking very youthful and pretty.”

Alchet was dressed in a frock plain enough not to draw attention away from the Empress, but she did look young and pretty.

“It's rather a contrast to those making too much effort,” continued Malveria.

The Empress drew herself up and only just prevented herself from levitating for extra height. Faced with the infuriating Fire Queen, it was a struggle to keep pretending she was human. The Empress longed to blast her with a stream of flame, something she felt capable of doing, with her increased power.

“Alchet, follow me. It is time for us to take our superior seats. We must not keep Donatella waiting.”

With that, the Empress departed, sweeping her handmaiden along with her.

“Poor Alchet,” said Vex. “I'd hate to work for the Empress. She's so mean. Probably she's mean enough to send Alchet to some horrible crabby old sorcerer as a punishment. You wouldn't want to be like that, would you?”

“Abandon these futile efforts, scheming niece. You are going to the Arch-wizard as promised. Now accompany me to the restroom. I must check my make-up, and then we will present ourselves as ladies of superior fashion.” The Fire Queen looked at her niece. “I mean one lady of superior fashion and her eccentric student niece. Please stop waving that plastic handbag around, it is a terrible embarrassment to people of good taste.”

CHAPTER 160

“The Guild know we're coming,” said Dominil. “They're waiting for us.”

Dominil's revelation caused extreme consternation.

“How do you know that?” cried Thrix. “What was the message?”

“Daniel was contacted by a Fire Elemental called Gezinka whom he met at St. Amelia's Ball. She informed him that the Empress of the Hainusta and the Avenaris Guild know our plans.”

“How can they know?” asked Decembrius. “You said it was secret.”

“Perhaps I overestimated our discretion.” Dominil swept her gaze around the room. “Someone may have talked.”

There were cries of anger and outrage at the notion. Who could possibly have been so careless? Thrix took a step toward Kalix.

“Manny,” she said.

Kalix looked at the floor, and didn't reply.

“Who's Manny?” asked Eskandor. The Captain of the Castle Guard was not so surprised that their plans had been discovered. In common with his companions Feargan and Barra, he didn't have total faith in the discretion or competence of the werewolves in London.

“An informer, probably,” said Thrix. “It doesn't matter now. We need to decide what to do. Dominil, is Daniel reliable?”

“He wouldn't make it up. But he might be misinformed.”

There was a silence, and a shared feeling of confusion, bordering on unreality. They were right next door to the Guild. The pathway was open. All they had to do was step through. But now, they didn't know what they would find when they arrived.

“I'm going anyway,” said Thrix.

“I'm not certain that's wise,” said Dominil.

“I'm going,” said Kalix, stepping toward the purple light on the wall. Assuming that Manny had betrayed them, making her responsible, she was now determined to fling herself into battle and die. “I'm sorry if I've given us away.”

Dominil caught her by the collar and dragged her back. “Wait,” she said. She crossed the crowded room and stood beside the door. “If the Guild really knows we're coming, there might be some sign of them outside.”

Dominil opened the door and looked out. A shot rang out, and wood splintered as a bullet slammed into the doorframe.

“I'd say that's a sign,” said Decembrius.

Dominil hastily shut the door. Thrix raised one hand and spoke a spell she'd prepared, sealing the entrance.

“That'll keep them out for a while. What now?”

“I knew you'd mess it all up,” said Wallace. “MacRinnalchs, you can't get anything right.” He looked around the room. “Might as well carry on. We're that close it would be a shame not to attack.”

There was a general movement toward the wall.

“This may not be the only alternative,” said Dominil. “We could investigate means of escape. There's a window to the courtyard.”

“The hunters will be there too,” said Thrix.

Dominil nodded. “You're right. Let's go.”

Kalix, now slipping into her state of battle madness, was eager to begin. She stepped toward the wall, ready to launch herself through. Once more she was prevented, this time by a most unexpected event. Another large oval of light flickered into existence in the middle of the room. Out of it stepped Sarapen. Even in the midst of such a crisis, it was a startling occurrence. Most of the werewolves in the room had attended his funeral.

“What—?” cried Thrix.

“Sarapen!” Decembrius gasped in amazement. “You're dead!”

Kalix jumped in alarm and began yelping, confused and distressed to see her hated elder brother return.

“What's going on?” demanded Wallace. “Have you come from the Forests of the Werewolf Dead?”

Sarapen, dark and massive in his werewolf form, looked around him. “What's happening?”

Two shots were fired outside the room, and bullets slammed into the door.

“We're about to attack the Guild,” said Dominil. “But they've been warned of our coming.”

“How are you alive?” demanded Thrix. “And why isn't Dominil surprised?”

“The knife didn't kill me. The Hainusta Empress saved me. I've been trapped in her palace. I asked Dominil to rescue me.”

“And no one thought to tell me about this?”

Another shot slammed into the door.

“Explanations can wait,” said Morag MacAllister.

“Tell me your situation,” said Sarapen, who seemed untroubled to have arrived back in the midst of such desperate circumstances.

“We're about to go through that purple light, directly into the Guild's headquarters,” explained Dominil. “We hoped to surprise them but now they've got us surrounded.”

“Is this all the werewolves you could muster?”

“There have been problems,” said Dominil. “I take responsibility.”

“We're still going ahead,” said Thrix.

“Good,” said Sarapen. “Perhaps we can surprise them anyway.”

Sarapen lifted the bag he carried. It was made of soft yellow leather and looked incongruous in his massive grasp.