The Curse of the Wolf Girl (27 page)

Vex, having received her allowance from her aunt, skipped down Tottenham Court quite cheerfully, a large plastic bag in each hand. The day had started off well when she put on her new
Tokyo Top Pop Boom-Boom Girl
T-shirt and had improved even further when she found a great new pair of boots in Camden Market. They were of the huge, gothic variety she favored, and Vex, wise to the potential skin-chafing problems new boots could bring, had also purchased some new Hello Kitty ankle socks to wear underneath them. Life, she thought, could hardly be better.

She paused in front of a large computer store to check her reflection. Completely oblivious to passersby, she adjusted several of her blond spikes, forcing them back into the golden sphere that now encompassed her features.

As she turned the corner onto Oxford Street, her thoughts turned to Kalix. It was unfortunate that her werewolf friend seemed so unhappy. Suddenly she spied a comic shop.

“Ah,” thought Vex. “The very thing. Nothing will cheer Kalix up like some new werewolf comics.”

The young Fire Elemental rushed enthusiastically into the shop but was momentarily confused to find it packed with everything except comics. Vex looked around with wonder at the huge array of models, T-shirts, figurines, posters, and DVDs. It all looked like it was worth investigating, but she stuck to her task and approached the counter. “I’m looking for comics.”

“Downstairs,” said the assistant, a rather surly looking young woman in an
X-Men
T-shirt.

Vex hurried downstairs, but once there she looked in bewilderment at the huge array of comics in boxes and on racks on the walls. At the counter, there was another gloomy-looking assistant.

“I’m looking for
Curse of the Wolf Girl
,” she said to him.

“What for?”

“I want to buy it.”

The assistant looked at her with contempt. “Waste of money. Terrible comic. Try under C.”

Vex looked again at the boxes of comics. “Could you show me?”

The assistant frowned. “In a minute; I’m busy.”

Vex was puzzled. When she went to buy T-shirts and boots, the assistants were usually friendlier. She wandered over to the comics, where a large man was flicking through a box with a determined air. Vex wasn’t sure if he was an assistant or a customer.

“Is there any
Curse of the Wolf Girl
?” she asked, hopefully. The man looked at Agrivex with interest, taking in her dark complexion, odd makeup, spiky blond hair, and cheerful grin. He smiled down at her.

“
Curse of the Wolf Girl
? That was a good comic.”

“The assistant said it was terrible.”

“He knows nothing. He’s an idiot. He has no taste in comics whatsoever.”

Vex was slightly alarmed at the large man’s apparent vehement dislike of the assistant. “
Curse of the Wolf Girl
?” she repeated hopefully.

“Yes, that was a good comic. Early artwork by Nathaniel Smith-Morris, as you probably remember. Of course,
Curse
only ran for twelve issues before it was canceled, back in the seventies, so there’s not that many of them around these days.”

Vex looked on expectantly as the large man rifled through another box.

“Here we are!” he said triumphantly. “Issues three, seven, and eight. Not bad condition.”

Vex’s face lit up. She thanked him sincerely. She liked this helpful stranger, even though he wore a rather shabby gray shirt, draped loosely over a Batman T-shirt, and his hair hung over his pudgy face in quite an odd manner. To her surprise, he took the comics to the counter, went behind the cash register, and rung them up himself. Apparently he worked here too, despite his contempt for his fellow assistant.

“Are there any more?”

“Not right now. We get a few old issues in every now and then. If you come in again, ask for me, and not any other dim-witted assistant who might work here. I’m Albermarle.”

Vex thanked him and left the shop feeling happy. Now she had new boots, new socks, new makeup, and three comics that were bound to cheer Kalix up. It really had been a good day’s shopping.

Is that red hair natural? Does it stay red when he’s a werewolf?”

Thrix frowned at her assistant. Decembrius was sitting in her waiting room, and she didn’t feel like discussing his hair.

“He was very insistent about seeing you,” Ann explained.

“Of course,” muttered Thrix. “Every MacRinnalch is insistent about seeing me. It never occurs to them I might not want to see them.”

Despite her persistent attempts to separate herself from the clan, the past few months had brought visits to her London office by Sarapen, Markus, her mother, Dominil, Kalix, Gawain, and now Decembrius.

“Why don’t they just organize their damned council meetings here and have done with it?” she grunted, putting her computer to sleep. “You might as well show him in and get it over with.”

The last time Thrix had seen Decembrius, he’d been slinking out of the wreckage after the great battle in which Sarapen had died. Though the feud was supposedly over now, Thrix readied herself with a defensive spell, just in case.

Decembrius walked into her office with a self-assured air.

“What do you want?” asked Thrix, making no attempt to sound friendly.

“The normal token of MacRinnalch hospitality?” said Decembrius, grinning.

Thrix wasn’t amused, but she took her bottle of whisky from the cabinet and poured two glasses. There were times when she found the need to offer this token of hospitality intensely annoying. “Here. Now what do you want?”

“Kalix wants to know who killed Gawain.”

“So?”

“We thought you might have some ideas.”

“Why isn’t she asking me herself?”

Decembrius shrugged. “I suppose she doesn’t feel like visiting.”

“So you thought you’d come instead?”

Decembrius smoothly ignored her irritation. “Do you have any idea who killed Gawain?”

“Why should I? Does Kalix think I killed him?” The enchantress shook her head. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she did. I still don’t see what it’s got to do with you.”

“What’s so strange about me wondering about the murder of a fellow werewolf?” asked Decembrius.

“The fact that you don’t care whether Gawain is alive or dead, for one thing. Is this your way of trying to win Kalix over?” Dominil had once told Thrix that she believed Decembrius was very attracted to Kalix. “Try taking her a bottle of laudanum. She’ll like that better.”

“You studied the crime scene, Thrix. You sent the body back to Scotland. You might have picked up some clues.”

The enchantress stared at Decembrius with dislike, taking in his longer and brighter hair and his new piercings. “When did you turn into Ziggy Stardust anyway? It’s a bit late for your teenage rebellion.”

Decembrius hadn’t expected the enchantress to be pleased to see him, but he was surprised by the level of her hostility. He endeavored to remain calm, though that was never the easiest thing for a MacRinnalch to do while being insulted by a fellow member of the clan.

“What about your famous second sight? Learned anything with that?” asked Thrix, witheringly. She had a feeling that Decembrius’s much vaunted powers of extra-perception might not be working so well these days. Not that she had ever held them in high regard anyway.

The intercom buzzed. “You’ve got a meeting in ten minutes,” said Ann.

“I’ll tell you what I know if it will get you out of my office quickly. I work for my living, unlike certain other MacRinnalchs. Gawain was killed by a huge wound in his heart. I’m not certain what caused the wound because, when I visited his bedsit, he’d been dead for days and the body had gone. When I saw it later at the morgue, it had already been touched by a lot of people. I couldn’t learn that much. It’s possible the wound was caused by a Begravar knife, but I can’t be certain.”

“I thought the knife was back at the castle?”

“There were two Begravar knives. One is at the castle, but we don’t know where the other one is. It’s possible it was picked up by a hunter. Or the wound might have been caused by a silver knife. A human wouldn’t have been able to drive it through Gawain’s chest, but a werewolf might. As for a silver bullet, it didn’t seem like a bullet wound to me, but I’m not an expert on ballistics. It might have been.” Thrix paused. “It’s hard to kill a werewolf, but I couldn’t say exactly how it was done.”

“What about a spell?” asked Decembrius.

“A spell might have done it. Though I doubt that any hunter in London would have been able to do that.”

“Who else might have used a spell?”

“Me. Except I didn’t. Some anti-werewolf sorcerer we don’t know about. A Fire Elemental, maybe.”

“Like Princess Kabachetka?”

“Possibly. She can bring a lot of sorcery to this world. But I don’t know of any reason why she’d attack Gawain.”

Decembrius looked thoughtful. “The princess probably hates Kalix for killing Sarapen,” he mused. “Might she have attacked Gawain for revenge?”

“It doesn’t seem that likely.”

“When you went to Gawain’s flat, did you sense any other werewolves had been there?”

Thrix hesitated. “Maybe. Kalix’s scent was still there. If there were others, it was some time before I was there. I couldn’t say for sure.”

“You couldn’t say for sure?” Decembrius sounded skeptical. “Is that because you don’t want to?”

“Do you realize how ridiculous you’re being?” asked the enchantress, her temper suddenly flaring up. “Padding around trying to do favors for Kalix? You’ll be lucky if you don’t end up dead.”

“Who’s going to kill me?”

“Kalix’s enemies. Or Kalix.”

“I don’t think that’s likely.”

Thrix laughed. “Look what happened to Gawain. He never really understood Kalix, and you don’t either. You think she’s some damaged little girl who needs rescuing. She’s not. She’s a killer.”

“Plenty of werewolves have been known to kill.”

“Not like Kalix. Once trouble starts, she can’t walk away. She goes insane. She has to kill her opponent. I’m in control when I’m a werewolf. So are you, probably. Even scum like the Douglas-MacPhees can keep themselves in check. Not Kalix. She can’t control herself. Probably because she was born on the full moon.”

Decembrius frowned. He’d heard rumors that Kalix had been born in her werewolf shape on the night of the full moon. He wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not. A werewolf mother would normally give birth while she was human, producing a human baby that would not experience its first werewolf change untill the next full moon. To actually be born in werewolf form was extremely rare. Kalix’s enemies in the clan whispered it was that that made her insane. Perhaps it was true. Decembrius had witnessed her terrifying speed and strength and had seen her defeat far larger opponents. “Is that why she’s so strong?”

“Probably,” said Thrix. “And so crazy. You should stay clear. One day you’ll find her teeth around your throat, and that will be the end of you.”

“I can defend myself.”

The enchantress laughed. “Plenty of werewolves thought they could defend themselves against Kalix, and they all ended up dead.” She rose to her feet, signifying that it was time for Decembrius to go. “The most likely thing is that the guild killed Gawain,” she said. “Dominil thinks it’s time we took the fight to them, and she might be right. Though we don’t even know where there headquarters is. They’re hidden, probably by sorcery.”

“Could you find it?” asked Decembrius.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried. Clan policy is to avoid offensive maneuvers. Now excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.”

It’s strange how smooth Kalix’s legs are,” said Moonglow.

“What?” Daniel asked.

“Don’t you think it’s strange? She’s a werewolf. You might expect she’d have a lot of extra hair. But her legs are really smooth. She never has to shave them.” Moonglow noticed a look of bewilderment on Daniel’s face. “Didn’t you know that?”

“How could I know?”

“By paying attention to what’s going on around you.”

“Aren’t Kalix’s legs her own business?”

“Maybe. But it’s still interesting. You probably never even noticed she doesn’t have periods either,” sniffed Moonglow.

“How could I possibly notice that?”

“From the lack of sanitary products in the bathroom? There’s only mine, even though there’s three girls living here. The Hiyasta don’t have periods. Different reproduction system entirely, according to Vex. Unwanted products get burned away. Well, I think they do, she wasn’t very clear about it.”

Daniel felt more bewildered. “Well, why doesn’t Kalix have periods? Are werewolves different too?”

“No, they’re the same. Kalix doesn’t have them because she’s too skinny from not eating enough and she’s abusing her body with laudanum. It’s very unhealthy. I’ve tried talking to her about it, but she won’t listen. Maybe you should try.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” said Daniel, “unless I want to get savaged by an angry werewolf who’s fed up with me asking a lot of intimate questions.”

“I just hate it that she never eats,” said Moonglow.

Daniel, who only moments ago had been planning on retreating upstairs, immediately saw an excellent opportunity to compliment Moonglow. “You’re right. Kalix is far too skinny. Not like you.”

Moonglow’s head turned, rather sharply. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not nearly as skinny as her.”

“Do you think I’m overweight?”

“Well, compared to Kalix…” began Daniel, then he hesitated, not liking the way this was going. He tried to reformulate his sentence. “You’ve got a very nice figure.”

“What, for someone who’s really fat compared to Kalix?”

“Who said anything about you being fat? I never mentioned anything about being fat,” Daniel attempted to protest his innocence but was interrupted by the arrival of Kalix, who seemed to have heard part of the conversation.

“Were you talking about me?” she demanded. “Were you calling me fat?” Kalix looked accusingly at Moonglow. “It’s your fault. You keep making me eat.”