The Curse of the Wolf Girl (32 page)

* * *

Markus sat in his chamber, wrapped in the scarlet cloak that had belonged to the wife of Thane Murdo centuries ago. The garment brought him some comfort, but not enough. All of Markus’s problems rose to the surface, and he felt bored and frustrated with life. He spent most of his nights with Beatrice MacRinnalch, the assistant curator of the castle relics, who was a pleasant enough werewolf but not really sparkling company. Markus had had many girlfriends and lovers, mainly in London, away from the prying eyes of his family, and had finally fallen in love with Talixia. She’d been killed in the feud, and he still missed her. Were his life different, Markus would have relieved his boredom by taking more lovers—with his extraordinary looks, women had always thrown themselves at him—but that wasn’t easy in the castle. Now he was Thane, he was expected to behave in a sober fashion. Neither his mother nor the Great Council would approve of him philandering.

He faced almost the same problem with clothes. Markus had long held a liking for female attire. That hadn’t been too hard to accommodate while he was free to go where he pleased. Here in the castle, it was more difficult. Though he’d shared his secret with a few women in his life, he didn’t think that Beatrice would take the information well, and he couldn’t risk the news becoming known in the clan. The MacRinnalch werewolves may well have caught up with the modern world in some respects, but Markus wasn’t under any illusion that they were prepared to accept a Thane who dressed in women’s clothes.

“They’d probably throw me off the walls,” he thought, feeling even more depressed. He sipped from a glass of wine and wished the eclipse was over.

* * *

In London the werewolves weren’t faring any better. Beauty and Delicious attempted to drink themselves through the crisis, but despite their boasting to Dominil, the eclipse affected them as much as everyone else. As it approached, their normally raucous conversation became more subdued. They found themselves sitting in front of the TV, watching music stations, unable to find anything they liked, too gloomy even to hurl abuse at the screen. They eventually put on an old DVD of Joy Division playing one of their early gigs and sat miserably in front of it, feeling that the tortured lyrics suited their mood.

“Shame he killed himself,” muttered Beauty, drinking deeply from a bottle of whisky as a closeup of Ian Curtis filled the screen.

“Doesn’t seem like such a bad idea at the moment,” muttered Delicious. “I hate these eclipses. Pass me the bottle.”

* * *

Dominil had purposely stayed away from the twins, knowing that if she encountered them during the eclipse, she’d probably be moved to attack them. She tried to ward off the malevolent effects of the disappearing moon by force of her willpower alone, telling herself that she just had to keep working and it would pass, but it was difficult. As the moon began to disappear, even her iron willpower sagged. For a moment she was overwhelmed with feelings of loss and sadness. Her mind was flooded with memories of past lovers and past disappointments. The unbreachable wall she’d erected, which had always protected her from the scorn directed at her because of her strangeness, began to crumble. For a few minutes, she felt something not far from despair about being so different from everybody else. She gritted her teeth then returned to her computer with a determined air and tried to carry on with her work.

* * *

At her office, Thrix was even more irritable than usual. She was forced to apologize to Ann after quite unjustifiably blaming her for losing a contract.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” said Thrix. “And I shouldn’t have thrown the stapler.”

“It’s okay. It’s only a small bruise.”

“I feel terrible. I shouldn’t have come into work today. Why did I?”

“I think your exact words were ‘the eclipse doesn’t bother me, I’m not like other werewolves, I’m a sorceress, I can handle it easily.’”

“Did I really say that? I’m a fool.” Thrix stared glumly at her computer, sighed deeply, and put it to sleep. “What’s the point in working? I’ll never sell any clothes. No one will ever review my clothes. They’re not worth reviewing anyway. I’ve never designed anything that was any good. I’ve got to get out of the fashion business, I’m hopeless at it.”

“Does this eclipse last long?” asked Ann, alarmed by Thrix’s abrupt descent into misery.

“Only a few hours. But we can feel it coming on. I should go home.”

“You can’t. You have a date.”

“How can I have a date? Werewolves don’t go out on dates when there’s a lunar eclipse.”

“Your exact words were ‘Of course I can go out with Easterly, I’m a sorceress, the eclipse won’t bother me.’”

Thrix rested her head on her desk and groaned.

“I’ll get you some coffee,” said Ann kindly.

Further west in London, Morag MacAllister, a fiery character at the best of times, was berating Marwanis MacRinnalch for organizing a meeting today of all days.

“What kind of werewolf makes an arrangement to meet on the night of the lunar eclipse? I’m liable to bite someone’s head off.”

“Not when you’re in human shape, I hope,” said Marwanis. “It’s the only evening I could get free when the Douglas-MacPhees could meet. They’re a busy little group.”

“Busy stealing no doubt,” said Morag. “I hate the Douglas-MacPhees.”

“You won’t hate them if they bring us Kalix.”

“Maybe not. Is Ruraich MacAndris coming too?”

“Yes.”

“I hate him as well.”

Marwanis almost smiled. Baron MacAllister’s sister was hardly diplomatic. But then, Marwanis didn’t care that much for Red Ruraich herself. He was always insinuating that as leader of the MacAndris Clan, he should be a baron too, with a seat on the Great Council.

* * *

Night was falling as Red Ruraich arrived at the hotel. He strode in, slammed the door, and immediately changed into his werewolf shape.

“Who’s idea was it to meet tonight?” he growled.

“Mine,” replied Marwanis, and she changed into a werewolf. They glared at each other. Morag MacAllister, not liking being the only human in the room, changed as well. The three ill-tempered werewolves stared at each other. Even in werewolf shape, they could feel their powers draining away as the Earth’s shadow came near to covering the moon. Finally Marwanis laughed, rather grimly, and changed back. “Just put up with it for a few hours. It will soon be over.”

“I never get used to it,” said Ruraich, harshly. “No werewolf feels right when the moon’s under attack. I feel like something’s gnawing my bones.”

Morag and Marwanis both sat down. Ruraich was right. No werewolf felt right at the time of the eclipse, and they shivered at its onset.

* * *

Not far away, Kalix MacRinnalch was stepping off the tube. She was completely oblivious to the onrushing eclipse and had no idea it was about to happen. The waves of depression and fatigue affecting her kin failed to make an impression on her. She always felt badly anyway and didn’t notice any difference.

She marched out of the station and hurried through the darkening streets. Kalix was eager to confront Morag, Marwanis, and anyone else who was there. She’d most likely be heavily outnumbered, but she didn’t care. As a werewolf, Kalix feared nobody, and she planned to burst into the hotel room, take on her werewolf shape, and start demanding answers about Gawain. If no answers were forthcoming, she’d savage them all until they felt like talking.

The Fire Queen materialized in the enchantress’s office with a flash of light that was far too bright for Thrix’s liking.

“No need to stare at me in such a manner, dearest Enchantress. I am aware that it is the time of the lunar eclipse. Distikka marked it in my diary. I now carry my diary everywhere, in my splendid Abukenti bag.” Malveria paused to admire her bag once more. “So I’ve come to bring you good cheer, while the moon hides its face, casting you into unbearable gloom. Is it unbearable?”

“It’s getting there,” growled Thrix.

“How fortunate I have arrived! I have come hither—is hither the correct word?”

“I expect so,” grunted Thrix.

“Then I have come hither from the home of Moonglow, where I was checking on the progress of my nefarious niece. Agrivex was late arriving back in our realm, thereby exposing herself to the risk of sudden death. She lacks the power to remain on Earth for more than a few days at a time.” Malveria paused, not looking too displeased at the notion of Vex meeting sudden death. “I suspected she may be hiding from me, but it turns out Agrivex is simply resting a sore foot, after a bad bouncy-castle accident.”

“Pardon?”

“An accident sustained while playing on a bouncy castle, according to Daniel. Though I’m not certain what a bouncy castle is. I have several castles, but none of them are bouncy. It’s hard to see the advantage of it.”

Thrix explained that a bouncy castle was a sort of children’s amusement, a large inflatable toy for children to play on.

“That would explain it. Unless Agrivex is using this bouncy castle story merely as a way of avoiding me?”

“Why would she be avoiding you? I thought she was doing well at college?”

Malveria nodded. “So she says. According to Agrivex, she’s the best student and will pass her exams with record scores and probably cheering crowds as well. I remain suspicious, but will await events.”

“Did you heal her sore foot?”

“My dearest Thrix, the Queen of the Hiyasta doesn’t waste her power healing an idiot niece who has no more sense than to bounce around on children’s inflatable devices. Her sore foot will heal itself, and may the pain be a salutary lesson to her.” Malveria smiled. “So, Enchantress, have I rescued you from the depths of misery?”

“No. I feel nauseous.”

“Oh.” Malveria was disappointed. “I trust this will not interfere with the splendid new outfit you’re designing for me?”

Thrix felt her forehead becoming moist as if from fever. She wanted to go home and lie on the couch, and she felt quite irritated by the Fire Queen’s good humor.

“I’ve got some news that might make you not feel quite so cheerful,” Thrix said. “About Princess Kabachetka.”

Malveria stiffened at the name. “What about her?”

“She’s been at Castle MacRinnalch.”

Malveria’s smile disappeared. “Kabachetka? What has that vile so-called princess been doing at Castle MacRinnalch? Attacking the werewolves?”

Thrix felt rather pleased to have disconcerted Malveria. That would teach her to be so cheerful during a lunar eclipse. “No. The princess brought Sarapen’s body back.”

“What? But how could this happen?”

Thrix had been almost as surprised as Malveria at the news. The Mistress of the Werewolves had phoned to tell her that not only had Princess Kabachetka returned Sarapen’s body, but also that a private funeral had already been held. “I thought it best to get it over with quietly,” her mother had said, probably implying that Thrix took so little notice of family affairs she didn’t deserve to be invited anyway.

Malveria sat down again and looked thoughtful. “Surprising news. Princess Kabachetka supported Sarapen against Markus. I didn’t expect her to make friends with your mother. And she has returned the body? Undoubtedly there is some cunning plan here.”

“I think the cunning plan might already have happened,” said Thrix. “Princess Kabachetka’s going to the fundraising event in Edinburgh. My mother invited her.”

“What!” Malveria again leapt from her chair, this time levitating several inches and staying there. “The princess is going to the opera? But this cannot happen! I am not allowed to go! And she cares nothing for the opera!”

“She does now,” said Thrix. “Mother seems to have taken quite a liking to her.”

Malveria slammed her fist on the table, which split in two. Thrix, who had been half-expecting this, immediately spoke a word of sorcery, repairing the table.

“The despicable princess has planned this all along! My fashion triumphs at the opera have been widely reported. Now she will attend this event to shame me. Enchantress, you must secure me an invitation.”

Thrix shook her head. “I can’t. Hiyastas and MacRinnalchs are still enemies, as you well know. Please don’t break my table again. If I have to use sorcery again, I think I’ll be sick.” Thrix glanced out of the window at the faltering moon. “And could you lower your voice, I have a terrible headache.”

Ann walked into Thrix’s office. She looked around questioningly. “Bad news?”

“The worst,” groaned Malveria. “Defeat and disgrace at the hands of Kabachetka.” She rounded on Thrix. “You must stop this immediately. Kabachetka cannot attend.”

“It’s nothing to do with me,” protested Thrix. “Ask my mother.”

“You know very well I cannot ask your mother! It seems to me, Enchantress, that you’re not taking this seriously enough. Do you realize the shame and humiliation that confronts me in this matter?”

Thrix’s nausea was increasing as the eclipse neared. “I can’t think about your shame and humiliation at the moment, I’ve got other things on my mind.”

The Fire Queen’s eyes began to smolder. “What other things?”

“A business that’s going rapidly downhill and a date with Easterly in the middle of the lunar eclipse. Which I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t insisted on setting me up with him. Did I ask you to set me up with anybody?”

“No, but you spent endless hours talking in an irritating tone about your poor love life.”

“What irritating tone?”

“The one you use when complaining of your poor love life.”

Thrix rose to her feet, too quickly, and clutched the desk for support. “Maybe you should concentrate on your own love instead of interfering with mine. I’m sick of hearing about your heir. Just have one. Or don’t have one. But don’t keep going on about it all the time.”