The Curse of the Wolf Girl (34 page)

“What’s wrong?” she mumbled.

Marwanis looked at Kalix with utter contempt. “Only you could be stupid enough not to even know about the lunar eclipse.”

Kalix was perplexed and so troubled by her unexpected loss of werewolf shape that she carelessly allowed Ruraich to creep up behind her. He picked up a table lamp and struck her across the back of the neck. Kalix fell unconscious to the floor.

“It looks like the Douglas-MacPhees won’t have to search very hard to find her after all.”

Ruraich, Marwanis, and Morag sat down to gather their strength, marveling at Kalix’s ignorance. It was hard to believe that any werewolf could be completely unaware of a lunar eclipse.

“She’s even more ignorant than I thought,” said Marwanis, and the others nodded in agreement.

Poor Wolf and Baby Wolf lived in a tiny shack in the forest. A cold wind blew through the flimsy walls and rain seeped through the ancient thatched roof. Every night Poor Wolf would go hunting for food to feed Baby Wolf, but there were few stags in the forest, and hunting was bad. In the great winter there was no food to be had, and Poor Wolf and Baby Wolf were hungry all the time. Baby Wolf cried with hunger and cold, and Poor Wolf fretted and wished that he might makes things better.

One night when Baby Wolf was crying with hunger, there was a terrible blizzard outside. Poor Wolf looked out the window and saw the snow.

“Perhaps I can pick up a stag’s tracks in the snow,” he thought. “Then I can hunt it and bring it home to feed Baby Wolf.” And though there had been no stag seen in the woods for months, and not even a rabbit, he ventured out into the terrible blizzard, leaving Baby Wolf wrapped in their only blanket, huddled in front of the embers of the fire made from the last of their wood.

Baby Wolf lay shivering and waited for his father to return and hoped he might bring a great stag, or even a rabbit, so that he could eat and feel better. He heard a noise and thought it was his father returning, but when he looked up, he saw that it was Robber Wolf. Baby Wolf was terrified. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep so that Robber Wolf might not kill and eat him. Robber Wolf shivered from the cold and looked around for something to steal, but there was nothing worth stealing. He bent down in front of the dying embers of the fire to warm his paws before going back out into the storm. Suddenly Poor Wolf arrived home. He opened his jaws wide, ready to attack Robber Wolf, but Robber Wolf bowed politely and excused himself.

“I sought shelter when the terrible wind and snow became too much for even my thick coat.” (Robber Wolf had a magnificent coat, much finer that Poor Wolf’s.)

“Very well,” said Poor Wolf. “You’re welcome to shelter.”

Baby Wolf was very pleased to see his father home and was even more pleased when father emptied his bag and there was a rabbit and some dry wood.

“I caught the rabbit, lost in the storm, and then as I returned home, the terrible lightning split a tree open and dry wood fell to the ground.”

Poor Wolf stoked up the fire and then cooked the rabbit, giving the best part to Baby Wolf and sharing the rest with Robber Wolf. After they’d eaten, Poor Wolf took a flagon of whisky from the cupboard. In it there was only half an inch of liquid, but he poured the tiny amount into two glasses and shared it with Robber Wolf, which was the polite thing to do.

That night Baby Wolf slept soundly for the first time in months, with his belly full and his paws nice and warm. Robber Wolf left as the storm died down and thanked his host very politely for the food and shelter.

But soon Poor Wolf and Baby Wolf were cold and starving again, because the winter was long and cruel. Baby Wolf became so weak that he cried himself to sleep. Poor Wolf became increasingly anxious and hunted for food and warmth for his child, in case he might die. Finally there came another great storm. Poor Wolf looked out the window at the rain and snow and the wind whipping through the trees, and he prepared to go out to hunt, though he knew it was useless. There would be nothing to eat in the cold forest, and Baby Wolf would go hungry again.

There was a knock at the door. It was Robber Wolf. He had a stag around his shoulders and a great sack of dry wood in his hands. He came in with a grin and laid the stag on the table.

“I brought this for you,” he said, “because you were so hospitable all these cold months ago.”

In no time at all, they were all warm and well fed, and Poor Wolf and Baby Wolf had enough food to last them till spring arrived and hunting was better.

* * *

Kalix woke with a jolt and looked up to see if Robber Wolf was in the room and wondered if it was still harsh winter outside. It had been a very long time since Kalix had dreamed about Poor Wolf and Robber Wolf, an old MacRinnalch story, told to werewolf children in the castle. Kalix had forgotten all about it until now.

She came back fully to consciousness to find herself tied to a chair. Morag MacAllister was standing over her.

The young werewolf immediately tried to transform but couldn’t. Kalix looked down at her own limbs, wondering why the change wasn’t happening. Marwanis watched her struggle.

“You don’t even know about the lunar eclipse, do you?”

Kalix glared at her and said nothing.

“How could you be so stupid?” Marwanis seemed offended by Kalix’s ignorance. “What sort of MacRinnalch are you?”

“I’ll kill you,” snarled Kalix.

“You’re going back to the castle. The council is going to sentence you.”

Morag MacAllister suppressed a sneer. “Why bother dragging her back to Scotland? The Douglas-MacPhees will be here soon. That will end the problem.”

Marwanis ignored her and spoke to Kalix. “So what was it like, killing Sarapen?”

“It was good,” said Kalix. “I wish I could do it again.”

Marwanis slapped Kalix hard. Kalix didn’t react.

“Maybe I should just kill you now,” said Marwanis.

“I’ll kill you first,” snarled Kalix, and she struggled with her bonds, but they were too strong to break.

Blood still trickled down Kalix’s arm, the result of her scratching her own wound. The smell was unsettling to the werewolves who, with the moon still in hiding, found it difficult to interpret their emotions. All of them were pale under the electric light, and their skins glistened with nervous perspiration.

Marwanis suddenly lost her energy and sat down heavily. “I’ll take her out to my car in a minute.”

There was a short silence, interrupted by Kalix. “Who killed Gawain?”

Marwanis looked puzzled. She swept back a few damp strands of her long dark hair. “Why do you keep asking that? How would I know?”

“He was your lover before he left you for me,” said Kalix. “Then he fought Sarapen. So you hated him.”

“All true,” admitted Marwanis, “though I’m not sure I could be bothered to hate him. But I didn’t kill him.”

“Neither did I,” said Morag, “not that I miss him.”

Kalix struggled again with her bonds, but her strength was gone and she couldn’t break free. She felt hot and nauseous, and alongside the discomfort caused by the eclipse, she felt a powerful need for laudanum, which increased her misery and confusion. She bared her teeth and growled in frustration, while her captors lapsed into a depressed silence. If Marwanis really planned to take Kalix back to the castle, she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to do it, and the Douglas-MacPhees would be here soon.

So, Captain Easterly. Tell me what you’ve learned about Thrix MacRinnalch.”

“She’s an unusually powerful werewolf who guards herself with sorcery. Without your help, I wouldn’t even be able to remember she was a werewolf.”

Princess Kabachetka was unimpressed. “I know this already. Tell me something new. How will you defeat her?”

“Well—” he began, but the princess held up her hand. Captain Easterly had quickly learned that the princess was a quirky and moody woman. He found her arrogant and impatient.

“One moment.” She crossed the floor of his living room to the mirror on the wall and studied her reflection. “Is this jacket satisfactory? I am not wholly convinced by the cut around the shoulders.”

“Yes, it’s not quite right,” agreed the captain.

Princess Kabachetka looked displeased. She hadn’t expected him to agree with her. “Instead of criticizing my clothes, perhaps you could tell me something useful and justify the effort I’m expending to help you?”

“No standard attack will work against her,” said Easterly. “She’s woven a series of spells that can’t be broken. Not by me or any werewolf hunter I know anyway. Silver can’t touch her. I tried sliding a silver teaspoon near her fingers while we ate, and it slid away of its own volition. Probably a silver bullet would do the same. The spells of confusion that prevent her from being tracked are very clever. If a journalist wants to write about her for a fashion magazine, that’s not a problem, but if I try to enter any details of her in guild records, it just can’t be done. Computer files get wiped and papers mysteriously disappear. Once I’m back at the guild, I can hardly remember anything about her. I’ll need you to boost the spell you’re using on me if I’m to keep pursuing her.”

“That might be dangerous.”

“I’ll risk it.”

The princess smiled. She rather liked the idea of Easterly risking his life. Perhaps he would kill Thrix and die in the process. That would be amusing.

“You told me that you’d once removed Thrix’s powers,” he said. “Can’t you do that again?”

“No. She will have learned how to counteract my spell, and at this moment I’m unable to bring more sorcery into this dimension that might be suitable. I need something new, as you seem to lack the initiative to simply put a silver bullet through her heart.”

“It wouldn’t work.”

The princess eyed him suspiciously. “Are you quite sure?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps you wouldn’t like to see the enchantress lying in a pool of blood with a bullet through her heart. Perhaps her blond hair has started to win you over.”

Easterly smiled. “I’m not about to fall for a werewolf.”

“Be sure that you don’t.” The princess glared at Easterly. Though she felt no attraction towards him, she had assumed that he would naturally fall in love with her. So far, he showed no signs of it. It was another mark against him.

“I did learn something useful, possibly.”

“Amaze me,” said the princess.

“Thrix suffers the effects of the lunar eclipse, the same as other werewolves. She can guard against it to an extent, but it still weakens her.”

“How could you tell?” demanded Kabachetka.

“Just a few things I picked up on when we had dinner. She was tired and not quite in control.”

“Perhaps you’re not a very interesting date,” suggested the princess. “A well-cut suit does not compensate for poor conversation. But supposing you are right, and Thrix suffers under the lunar eclipse, what of it? Is there another eclipse due soon?”

“No. But you asked me to find a weakness.”

“I asked you to kill her.”

“Or find a weakness that will enable you to kill her. Might it not be possible for you to work some sorcery that would replicate the effect of a lunar eclipse? If you could do that, she’d be vulnerable.”

The princess mused on this. It was worth considering. She rose to her feet, not quite as gracefully as she would have wished. She’d been several days on Earth, and her strength was fading. “I’ll consider the matter.” She glanced in the mirror. “You are quite wrong about this jacket. The cut is admirable and suits me perfectly.”

She snapped her fingers and dematerialized, whisking herself instantly back to her own realm, where she immediately burned her jacket. The interview with Easterly had left her in a poor temper. He wasn’t respectful enough, and his failure to fall in love with her was quite insulting. And as for his taste in clothes, it was obviously deficient. She pursed her lips. At least he was applying himself to his task and had suggested a weakness in Thrix that might be exploited.

“But how can I reproduce the effect of a lunar eclipse on Earth?” wondered the princess. “If such moon magic exists, it is not known to the Hainusta.”

Perhaps Distikka might have some ideas. She sent her a message asking her to meet and to help plan the destruction of Thrix MacRinnalch.

As the eclipse continued, Kalix felt like the life was being sucked from her body. Worse, she was feeling close to panic, which had never before happened in the presence of an enemy. Usually the prospect of fighting cleared her mind, leaving her calm. Now the eclipse was twisting her emotions, and everything was going wrong. She could feel the attack coming on and strove to keep it at bay, unable to bear the humiliation of panicking under the sneering eyes of Morag and Marwanis.

“So are you going to take her away or not?” asked Morag.

Before Marwanis could reply, footsteps sounded outside, loud steps, with a heavy tread. The door opened, and the Douglas-MacPhees trooped in.

“Well that ends the problem,” said Morag.

“Damn you for calling us out on this night—” began Duncan, crossly, before his eyes focused on Kalix. “But this does make up for it,” he said.

Duncan stepped towards Kalix, who writhed frantically in her bonds. As Duncan reached out, the moon finally emerged from out of the Earth’s shadow. Kalix was first to react, and she jumped to her feet, snapping ropes and destroying the chair. She faced her opponents, all of whom were now transforming. Kalix felt her battle madness enveloping her and had a brief moment of contentment. Duncan, William, Rhona, Ruraich, Marwanis, and Morag might be too much for her to defeat, but she could go down fighting, and she was satisfied with that. The young werewolf howled with rage and prepared to leap at Duncan when suddenly the door flew open again. Kalix had a brief glimpse of a lot of long white hair. Inexplicably, the room exploded in smoke, a thick choking gas that reduced visibility to almost zero and caused the werewolves to retch and to rub their eyes with their paws. Kalix felt herself being grabbed by the scruff of her neck and hauled away. Thoroughly confused, she was dragged from the room and found herself in a dark corridor under a flickering electric light.