The Curse of the Wolf Girl (3 page)

“Duncan and Rhona won’t be quite so sanguine about it,” mused Decembrius, and he wondered if they might be seeking Kalix, looking for revenge. The thought troubled him, and he resolved to find out from them if they had any clue as to her whereabouts.

Moonglow’s anxiety over Kalix’s debut at college persisted throughout the day. No amount of entreaties from Daniel could ease her concern.

“Should we pick her up after class?” Kalix’s college wasn’t far from their university building, just south of the river.

Daniel was against the idea. “If we meet her at the gate, she might think we’re treating her like a kid. It’ll just annoy her. Stop worrying. Everything will be fine.”

Moonglow was unconvinced. As she traveled home with Daniel, she was too preoccupied to listen to anything he had to say. His eternal campaign to persuade Moonglow to go out with him was proving even less successful than usual. He’d tried to explain to her how he’d powered his way through level nine of Grimcat, his current favorite game, but she hardly seemed to listen, even though Daniel was sure the story reflected well on him. Level nine was notably difficult.

When they arrived home, Moonglow hurried up the stairs to their small flat above the empty shop.

“I’ll make tea for them. It’ll be welcoming. And maybe I should light a scented candle. Something soothing.”

A few minutes later, the downstairs front door banged heavily, and there was the sound of two pairs of booted feet ascending the stairs. The living room door opened, and Kalix trudged into the room. As Moonglow greeted her brightly, she kept on trudging, an obviously unhappy werewolf.

“Stupid college,” she muttered and disappeared upstairs to her room.

Vex bounded into the living room behind her.

“I got a gold star!” she shrieked and leapt around, brandishing a notebook that, Moonglow noted, she had already decorated with luminous, colored inks. “I got a gold star for my poem!”

Daniel and Moonglow were puzzled. They knew the college Vex was attending did cater to people with poor reading skills, but it was for adults, not children. They hadn’t expected it would be handing out gold stars.

“Look!” yelled Vex, happily. Moonglow looked. On the first page there was a very short poem, and beneath it Vex had written “goldd starr.”

“Eh…did the teacher give you that?”

“Yes! She told the whole class how great it was! So obviously it was worth a gold star. Do you want to read it?”

Moonglow smiled at the young Fire Elemental’s enthusiasm and took the proffered book.

I wish I had a hedgehog.

I’d take it for walks up the Great Volcano

which is close to the palace.

I live in a golden palace.

“The teacher said it was really imaginative!” explained Vex, still very excited. “Isn’t it great? I got a gold star on my first day at college!”

“It is imaginative,” agreed Moonglow, sincerely. Almost every word was misspelled, but English, after all, was not Vex’s first language. She noticed that Vex had taken the notion of decorating each letter to great extremes. Having started out by putting little hearts over each “i,” she’d decided that the idea could be expanded. Now every letter seemed to have some colorful decoration. It made for a bright and confusing page.

“Do you want to read my poem too?”

“I already—eh, yes, of course,” said Daniel, looking at her eager face.

“How did Kalix get on?” asked Moonglow.

Vex stopped smiling. “I don’t think she liked it so much.”

“I better go and see,” said Moonglow, and she departed the living room to the sound of Vex reciting her poem.

* * *

Upstairs in her tiny room, Kalix lay on her bed, mildly intoxicated from laudanum. Recently she’d been taking less of the opiate, but she still used it regularly. While laudanum was rarely found in the world these days, as humans had moved on to other drugs, a few werewolves still preferred it. Every week Kalix would make the long journey over to Merchant MacDoig’s premises in East London to replenish her supply. The merchant had introduced her to the opium derivative at a young age. Now the young werewolf was dependent on it. It was expensive, which was a continual problem for Kalix.

The young werewolf hadn’t enjoyed her first day at college at all. She’d been surrounded by people she didn’t know. Kalix was never comfortable with strangers. While Vex had talked cheerfully to anyone who came within range, Kalix had resisted all efforts to engage her in conversation, maintaining a hostile silence all day. Unlike Vex, who was eager to throw herself into college life, Kalix had no such ambitions. Though it frustrated and embarrassed her that she was practically illiterate, she had no desire to sit in a classroom and display her ignorance to everyone.

She had been horrified when the teacher had announced that everyone was going to compose a poem. Though Kalix made an effort to record her own life and wrote every day in her private journal, she’d never written a poem. She had no idea how to do it, or even where to start. The teacher’s instructions that each student should just use their own imagination had seemed to her completely inadequate. While other students—some of them foreign, with hardly any grasp of the language at all—had grappled with the task, Kalix had sat quite still, head bowed, staring forlornly at her exercise book. She’d written nothing at all and found the whole experience very embarrassing, bordering on the traumatic. College was even worse than she’d expected. Vex, naturally, had been thrilled by the whole thing. On the tube ride home, she wouldn’t shut up about her poem; a poem that, as far as Kalix could see, was the most stupid thing ever written. By that time, all Kalix wanted to do was get home and fill herself with laudanum, which she’d now accomplished. She felt a brief nausea, then some welcome drowsiness. She pulled her quilt over her and wished she never had to go back to college.

Dulled by laudanum, Kalix drifted into an ugly dream. Misshapen trees loomed above her as she crept through a darkened wood, and though she thought she knew her way, she suddenly found her route blocked by bushes, bushes that crackled with a fierce array of thorns.

“I’m lost,” she whispered.

“Lost? You’ve been to the Forests of the Werewolf Dead before.”

Kalix cried out in alarm and tried to see who spoke, but the figure was hidden behind a huge tree, an ash that moved towards her, branches reaching out like long fingers. Kalix lashed out with her claws, and as she did so, she woke quite violently. Her body was covered with sweat. She’d fallen asleep fully dressed and had overheated beneath her quilt. Kalix threw off the cover and sat upright, shaking her head to clear it. It was the second time this week she’d dreamed of the Forests of the Werewolf Dead.

“I went there once already,” thought the young werewolf. “I’m not ready to go back.”

She stood up and was momentarily disoriented because she imagined herself to be in werewolf shape as she had been in the dream. But she was human at the moment: seventeen-and-a-half years old, attending college, and living in London. Much the same as thousands of others, except that she’d been born into the ruling family of the MacRinnalchs, the largest clan of werewolves in the country. For the first part of her life, she’d lived at Castle MacRinnalch in the Scottish Highlands. For much of the past two years, she’d been on the run, hiding from her family, hiding from werewolf hunters, living in alleyways and abandoned warehouses. Now she was no longer running, her life should be better. Kalix wasn’t sure that it was.

Her new domestic setting was more comfortable than sleeping rough, but she hadn’t yet become used to sharing her life with other people. It annoyed her that she had to moderate her behavior. When she’d lived on the streets, she had begged for money or stolen it. Now, she couldn’t do that. Moonglow wouldn’t like her to beg or steal, particularly to buy laudanum. Kalix frowned and felt angry. What did she care what Moonglow thought? She was Kalix MacRinnalch. Only three months ago, she’d slain her brother Sarapen in combat, and he’d been the most ferocious werewolf in the land. Kalix MacRinnalch shouldn’t have to worry about what Moonglow thought. And yet, it wasn’t really that simple. Moonglow had been kind. She’d given her a place to live when she had nowhere else to go. She’d bathed her wounds and provided her with food. Moonglow had saved her life. Kalix’s frown deepened. It was a strange feeling, being obligated to someone. She didn’t like it.

Kalix wondered, as she often did, whether she should leave. She didn’t have anywhere else to go. She had no other friends apart from Daniel and Moonglow, and she couldn’t return to the family home at Castle MacRinnalch. If she did, she’d be liable to punishment for her past crimes. The family still held her responsible for the death of her father.

Today’s experiences at college hadn’t brightened her mood. Kalix sighed and sipped from her bottle of laudanum. Though the opiate dulled the anxiety to which she was prone, it exacerbated her depression.

Far above, the moon appeared, a small crescent. Kalix felt it. She considered changing into her werewolf shape for comfort. Like all the purest-blooded MacRinnalchs, Kalix didn’t need the full moon to change. She could do it under any moon, on any night. On the three nights around the full moon, the change came on automatically; other nights the MacRinnalchs were free to choose. On their remote Scottish estates, the werewolves would change very frequently. Though they were discreet about their true nature, they weren’t ashamed of it. Nor was Kalix. She was proud to be a werewolf. But here in London, she had to take more care to keep it secret. Daniel and Moonglow had accepted her as she was. That didn’t mean others would. Besides, there were the hunters to think about.

Kalix shook her head, still not completely over her nightmare. She felt the moon above her. It would be comforting to change, but she still hesitated. Being werewolf dulled her anxiety and depression, but it affected her in other ways she didn’t like. When she was in her werewolf shape, she’d gorge herself on almost anything. In her days of living on the streets, she’d killed and eaten dogs and wolfed down the contents of supermarket skips. Now she was well provided for by Daniel and Moonglow. The fridge was full of meat bought to satisfy her eager werewolf appetite. The werewolf feasting was good for her health, but the next day, when Kalix reverted to human, she’d remember how much she’d eaten and how much she disliked eating, and then she’d feel badly again. Sometimes she’d be sick, quite violently.

Moonglow knocked on the door.

“Go away,” said Kalix.

“Don’t you want to talk about your first day at college?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“College is stupid.”

Kalix felt an urge to add “and so is poetry” but refrained, not wanting to engage in conversation.

“There’s a letter here for you.”

Kalix blinked. In her semi-stupor, she wondered if she’d heard correctly. A letter? No one ever wrote to her. Hardly anyone knew where she lived. Her location was well hidden by spells provided by her sister Thrix.

“Who’s it from?”

“I don’t know,” called Moonglow through the door. “Should I bring it in?”

“No,” said Kalix, but it was too late. Moonglow came in anyway and smiled as she handed Kalix the letter. Kalix scowled at her. She took the envelope in her hand then buried it under her duvet as if pointedly telling Moonglow that whoever the letter came from, she wasn’t going to discuss it with her.

The air was thick with the smell of laudanum. Kalix remained silent, daring Moonglow to lecture her about it. Moonglow didn’t mention it, however, instead asking her brightly about her first day at college. Kalix, who quite clearly remembered telling Moonglow she’d hated it only a few moments ago, refused to discuss it.

Realizing that Kalix was intent on resisting all attempts at friendly communication, Moonglow began to withdraw, having satisfied herself that at least Kalix wasn’t cutting herself—which she was also prone to—or descending into the grip of an anxiety attack or dying of a laudanum overdose.

As Moonglow reached the door, Kalix, despite herself, suddenly burst out. “Wasn’t Vex’s poem the most stupid thing ever? How could the teacher like it?”

Moonglow paused. “Well, it was imaginative, I guess,” she answered.

“No, it wasn’t! It was awful. I hate her poem.”

“Did you write one as well?” asked Moonglow, brightly.

“No. And I hate college,” said Kalix, and she pulled her duvet over her head.

The Empress Asaratanti, a Fire Elemental of regal aspect and—since her recent trip to the cosmetic surgeon in Los Angeles—of a very good figure, still couldn’t understand why her daughter was so keen to punish a group of werewolves who lived in the human dimension. It was true that since the mania for high fashion had swept through the courts of both the Empress Asaratanti and her neighbor Queen Malveria, there had been rather more contact with the world of humans. The great ladies of their courts had hurried to make use of their fashion designers. They did have a way with clothes. But werewolves?

“Werewolves are low creatures, Princess. Beneath our notice. Why trouble yourself?”

“They assisted Queen Malveria!” exclaimed the princess. “Without the MacRinnalchs’ help I would have overshadowed her. Does it please you that your daughter now suffers mockery and derision from the ladies of Malveria’s court?”

The empress considered this. Though they were at peace these days, the Hainusta and the Hiyasta had never gotten along well. There was no denying that Malveria was very full of herself. Asaratanti couldn’t blame her daughter for disliking her.

Around the empress’s throne, her ministers and courtiers stood at a respectful distance, careful not to let any flames emerge from their bodies, something that was frowned on at court as rather common.

“So what, dearest daughter, do you want me to do?”