The Curse of the Wolf Girl (15 page)

Queen Malveria strolled through the Garden of Small Blue Flames in the company of her old friend and ally Duchess Gargamond. The garden was one of her favorite spots in the palace grounds. The tiny burning flowers were restful, and she had taken to walking there after her council meetings.

“You would not believe how my ministers of state badger me about producing an heir. One would think they might show more respect.”

“You do need an heir,” said the duchess, rather mischievously.

The Fire Queen shuddered. “Really Gargamond, you would be astonished by some of the suggestions they’ve put forward for marriage. One simply can’t help but wince. But enough of these tedious matters. Tell me, Duchess, are you really convinced by these slippers?”

The duchess smiled. She was well aware of Malveria’s penchant for clothes. She complimented Malveria’s new shoes, pink court slippers with a delicate three-inch heel and the imperial motif picked out in silver thread. The queen accepted the compliment graciously. It was wonderful the way Thrix MacRinnalch could breathe new life into even a relatively mundane item of clothing like court slippers. Once more she found herself profoundly grateful to the enchantress’s powers of fashion design. As for the duchess, it was a mark of her loyal friendship that she could be relied on to offer a compliment when required.

Unfortunately, the duchess’s status as loyal friend was proving to be a problem. Her whist playing had not improved, and the queen desperately wanted a new partner. It was a delicate matter. Duchess Gargamond would be mortally offended if the queen were to discard her. Badly handled, it might even lead to a scandal in court circles, with gossip, whispering, and angry reports of the affair being transmitted from one end of the realm to the other. The great ladies of Malveria’s court were very prone to gossip, whispering, and angry reports.

Malveria was the absolute ruler of the Hiyasta nation. In theory, she could do whatever she liked. However, in reality there were many social constraints. The duchess could not be treated badly. It was still remembered by the population that, on one famous occasion, the duchess had ridden to the queen’s assistance at the head of a troop of cavalry, bringing much-needed relief when the queen’s forces were in danger of being outflanked. She remained a popular figure among the mass of ordinary Fire Elementals. Were the queen to treat her unfairly, the population wouldn’t like it.

The queen smiled at the duchess, opened her mouth, then closed it again. She really didn’t know how to broach the subject. She turned away, ostensibly to look at a small flower of blue flame. The depressing thought struck her that she might be stuck with the duchess as her card partner forever, no matter how many foolish plays the duchess made. She would find herself always on the losing side, forever having to accept the sympathies of her victorious opponents. Eventually Beau DeMortalis would make some comment. DeMortalis, the Duke of the Black Castle, was an infamous dandy and an equally infamous wit. Though he hadn’t yet said anything cruel about the queen’s card playing, it was surely only a matter of time. And when he did, his comment was bound to be repeated endlessly. Malveria felt herself flushing with annoyance. She refused to let her card playing be a subject of mirth among her subjects.

The queen was gathering her energies for another assault on the tricky subject when there was a sudden interruption. There was the sound of the swift patter of feet and of a few plants being trampled, then Agrivex rushed into view, breathing heavily.

“Aunt Malvie!” she called.

Queen Malveria drew herself up to her full height and cast her most ferocious stare at her niece. She had told her a thousand times not to call her
Aunt Malvie
, particularly in company.

“What do you mean by interrupting my pleasant walk, dismal niece?”

“Kalix has been shot by a silver bullet! You have to come and help her!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kalix!” yelled Vex, obviously agitated. “I just went to her house, and she was lying there all shot and groaning and stuff. Moonglow’s really worried, and the enchantress is in Scotland so she needs some help right away!”

The Fire Queen blanched. She could feel the duchess and the duchess’s handmaiden staring at them with interest. Though it had apparently escaped Vex’s notice, werewolves were regarded as inferior creatures by the Elementals. Not only that, the MacRinnalchs were historical enemies. The idea that the Fire Queen should drop everything and rush to their assistance was quite bizarre. Attempting to draw herself up further and finding that she was already at full height, Malveria levitated a few inches off of the ground. “If Kalix MacRinnalch is in distress, I’m quite sure her clan can assist her. Why you imagine I would trouble myself is beyond me, foolish girl.”

The queen turned to the duchess and smiled pleasantly. “Agrivex is prone to these ridiculous fancies.”

Vex started to jump up and down, not an easy feat given the size and weight of her boots. “But you healed her before, Aunty! You’re great at healing werewolves! You have to come quickly!”

The tiniest flicker of flame appeared at the queen’s fingertips. “Should you not be in class, learning something?”

“How can I learn anything when Kalix has been shot? We need to hurry!”

Duchess Gargamond coughed tactfully. “Perhaps I should withdraw to allow you time to talk to your niece?”

“Niece is an honorary title,” growled Malveria. “I have not yet adopted her.”

She was about to abuse Vex further but halted. By now the damage was done. Like all Hiyasta nobility, Duchess Gargamond was a skillful reader of auras. The queen could successfully mask her own aura, but Vex couldn’t. To an experienced observer, it was quite obvious that Vex was telling the truth when she claimed that the queen had already healed werewolves. There was no point in pretending otherwise. Malveria nodded apologetically to the duchess, glanced rather ruefully at the duchess’s handmaiden—a gossipy young Elemental if ever she saw one—and apologized for cutting their meeting short. Gargamond and her attendant withdrew from the garden.

“Will I see you at the card table tonight?” called the duchess.

“Most certainly,” replied the queen, and she smiled frigidly. “I look forward to it.”

As she turned away, the flames that played around Malveria’s fingers grew longer. She glared at Vex with loathing. “Why you vile, irritating, annoying—”

“Can we go now?” cried Vex. “I really think we should get there quickly.”

The queen attempted to speak but abandoned the attempt, something she seemed to be doing a lot recently. She snapped her fingers angrily, transporting both herself and her tactless niece from the burning land of the Hiyasta to the dampness of South London where they materialized abruptly in Moonglow’s living room. There they found Kalix unconscious on the floor, Moonglow kneeling over her anxiously, and Daniel hovering around with a pot of tea in his hand.

“Would you like some tea?” asked Daniel.

“A cup of tea will not compensate for the dreadful indignity,” snapped the queen.

Moonglow looked up, relieved to see Malveria. Moonglow had great faith in her healing powers. “A werewolf hunter shot her through the hand.”

“Through the hand? That does not sound so serious.” Malveria glowered at Vex. “You brought me here for this, you foolish girl? Have you any idea how much embarrassment you’ve caused me? What possessed you to run into the garden and blurt out such a thing in front of Gargamond and her handmaiden?”

“Kalix needs help!” protested Vex.

“She needs to stop filling herself with cheap wine and laudanum,” retorted the Fire Queen, “which, I perceive, is more the cause of her current state of collapse than the minor wound.”

Moonglow rose to her feet, a bewildered look on her face. She couldn’t understand the queen’s hostility. “She probably needed some laudanum to dull the pain,” suggested Moonglow. “I think a silver bullet would be agony for her, even a minor wound.”

“Pah,” snapped Malveria. “As a young warrior, I suffered worse on countless occasions. I may have given assistance to this degenerate young werewolf in the past, but that does not mean you can send my niece rushing hither and thither to seek me out any time she has a minor scratch. I have a kingdom to run. Now if you will excuse me—” Malveria raised her hand to snap her fingers and dematerialize.

“I really think you should help,” said Moonglow, forcefully. “After all, we’re helping your niece go to college.”

The Fire Queen’s lips compressed in anger. “Are you implying that you may stop helping her?” She took a step towards Moonglow. In her high heels, she towered over the student. “You would be very unwise to think you can blackmail the Queen of the Hiyasta,” she snarled, sounding angrier than Moonglow or Daniel had ever heard her.

“Wooaahh,” said Daniel, stepping between Malveria and Moonglow. “Queen Malveria, we’re sorry if this is inconvenient. We didn’t send Vex to find you; she just shot off on her own. But now you’re here, could you take a look at the wound? Please? Everyone says silver is really bad for werewolves.”

Malveria glared at Daniel, though her expression softened a few degrees. She’d liked Daniel from the moment they’d met because he’d called her beautiful and then blushed, which amused her.

“Oh…very well,” she said.

Kalix’s skinny frame lay rag-like on the floor. Queen Malveria examined her wound. There was a lot of dried blood on the werewolf’s hand, and the flesh was torn where the bullet had passed through.

“The damage is not great,” said Malveria, “though it will have been painful. The silver will indeed have burned her inside.”

She spoke a short sentence in an unknown language then pressed her lips to Kalix’s palm. Kalix’s hand glowed faintly orange for a second or two.

The queen rose gracefully. “I have repaired the damage. The bones will heal in a few days. I’ve removed what traces of silver remained, and the pain should be less. Now I must return to my palace and repair the terrible damage that Agrivex has done to my reputation.” The Fire Queen pointed at Vex. “You will return to class, and when that is finished, you will report to the throne room for whatever substantial punishment I decide on. Never bring such embarrassment on me again if you wish to remain alive.”

With barely a nod to Daniel, and without acknowledging Moonglow at all, Queen Malveria dematerialized, leaving the two students uncomfortable. They’d never seen Malveria quite so unfriendly before.

“Help me get Kalix into bed,” said Moonglow. “Her hand’s looking better. I suppose we should be grateful for that anyway.”

Marwanis MacRinnalch didn’t attend the council meeting, but after it was over, she visited Morag MacAllister, the baron’s young sister. Morag had received a full report of the proceedings, which she repeated to Marwanis.

Marwanis allowed herself a moment of sadness at the news of Gawain’s death. At one time, they’d been close.

“So Kalix was shot by a hunter? A shame she wasn’t killed.” Marwanis’s hatred for Kalix was uncompromising and had grown rather than faded in the few months since she’d killed Sarapen.

Morag clicked a button on her computer.

“You really expect this to work with the Douglas-MacPhees?” Marwanis asked.

“Videoconferencing isn’t hard,” said Morag.

Marwanis was skeptical. Werewolf children these days might be learning about the Internet at school, but the Douglas-MacPhees belonged to an earlier generation. She doubted any of them had any technical expertise. She was surprised when Duncan’s face appeared in a small window on the screen.

Duncan grinned and called over his shoulder, “Well done. Got the Wi-Fi working.”

“Any sign of Kalix?”

Duncan scowled. “No. And we’re fed up with looking for her.”

“The reward’s still on offer.”

Duncan nodded. Before his death, Sarapen had offered the fantastic prize of four gold nobles for Kalix’s head. A gold noble was an ancient Scottish coin, rare and extremely valuable, taken from the deepest vaults of the MacRinnalchs’ ancient wealth. It was a reward rich enough to tempt many werewolves.

“Have you met Ruraich?” asked Morag. Red Ruraich MacAndris was chieftain of the MacAndrises. He liked to think of himself as equal to the barons, though he wasn’t.

“He’s playing tonight.”

“Didn’t you tell him I wanted to talk to him?”

“Ruraich’s keen on his fiddle music. He wanted to go.”

Red Ruraich was a noted fiddler. While in London he’d find a pub with an open session and join in with the other musicians.

“Don’t worry, he took his phone.”

“What?”

There was a bleeping sound from the computer. Morag clicked the mouse, and Red Ruraich’s face appeared onscreen. He was a large man, and his thick, red hair hung down past his shoulders, giving him the unkempt look of a traveling musician. He greeted Morag and Marwanis, raising his voice to make himself heard over the noise in the background. Ruraich was apparently still at the music session in the pub and had withdrawn to one side of the room to call them.

“Shouldn’t you go somewhere private to talk about werewolf affairs?”

Ruraich shrugged. “If anyone overhears me, they’ll just think I’m crazy. So, has anyone found Kalix?”

“No,” said Duncan.

“Is anyone likely to?”

“I’m coming down to London with Morag,” said Marwanis. “Between us, we ought to be able to find her.”

Duncan Douglas-MacPhee was doubtful. “The enchantress hid her too well.”

An annoyed and confused conversation ensued about the iniquity of the enchantress hiding Kalix when she was an outlaw from the clan and of the Mistress of the Werewolves covering up for her. If clan law had been followed properly, Kalix would have been dragged back to the castle, not hidden by her relatives.

“It sickens me,” added Red Ruraich MacAndris. “I saw her kill Sarapen with my own eyes. For even using a weapon like a Begravar knife, she should be punished.”

The other werewolves nodded in agreement. The Begravar knife Kalix had used to kill Sarapen was an heirloom of the MacRinnalchs and had uniquely destructive powers. Its use was utterly forbidden.