The Curse of the Wolf Girl (37 page)

“We’re going to see Yum Yum Sugary Snacks!” screamed Vex from the back seat, a completely unnecessary comment in Daniel’s opinion, particularly as he’d just worked himself into a good position for complimenting Moonglow.

“I wish I could study like you,” he continued. “I’ve really started to work harder as a result of—”

“I can’t wait to see them again!” screamed Vex. “Last time was the best thing ever!”

Daniel abandoned his compliment and concentrated on driving.

Kalix wasn’t with them. She’d chosen not to come. She had things to do, though she wouldn’t specify what they were.

“Maybe she’d be better just letting it go,” said Moonglow, thinking aloud.

“What?”

“Kalix. Maybe she should just forget about trying to find out who killed Gawain. It will end badly.”

“Of course it will end badly,” said Daniel, seriously, “but there’s nothing we can do about it. No human power can prevent Kalix from doing what she wants. Unless we dosed her with more laudanum, maybe.”

Moonglow frowned. She was sure Kalix had been taking more laudanum recently, which was another worry. And she’d stopped eating too. Probably she was cutting herself as well, though she was careful to conceal it if she was. Moonglow’s worries about Kalix prevented her from looking forward to the gig, and she barely heard Daniel as he talked to her about something or other as they passed through the center of town.

Mighty Queen,” began Xakthan, “there is some disquiet among your advisory council.”

“Really Xakthan? Why is that?”

Though he was normally quite at home in the pleasant red glow of the Fire Queen’s throne room, First Minister Xakthan seemed uncomfortable. As a loyal supporter of such a long-standing monarch, Xakthan was secure in his position. Even if he offended her, Malveria was not suddenly going to dismiss him. That didn’t mean he was secure against her wrath. The Fire Queen in a rage could be a fearsome sight. With the full power of the Great Volcano at her fingertips, she could erupt in a quite spectacular manner. Only last month, when a careless handmaiden misplaced her favorite nail polish right before a reception for the ambassador from the Air Elementals, the Fire Queen’s temper had exploded, taking much of the southern wing of the palace with it. Builders were still making repairs. “Which may be,” thought Xakthan, “part of the problem.” While the queen had flown into a terrible rage over nail polish, it was a long time since he’d seen her show any passion over the state of the nation.

“There was some…disappointment at your failure to calculate the date for the festival, great Queen.”

“Didn’t Distikka do it?”

“Yes, but it is a task that traditionally belongs to the reigning monarch. The volcano is of such importance, and you are the only one of royal blood who can harness its power.”

Malveria waved this away. “If Distikka is intelligent enough to calculate the date, let her get on with it.”

“The council also feels they’re being shut out of your affairs. And the fighting in the western desert is not going well.”

“It’s a trifling affair. A few rebels.”

“Even so, it’s troubling that it’s taking so long to wipe them out. I’m not certain why Commander Agripath hasn’t acted more decisively—”

“Is this another of your rivalries, Xakthan?”

Her first minister protested that it wasn’t, but Malveria knew Xakthan and Agripath had never gotten along well. Quite possibly Xakthan was simply trying to discredit his rival.

“Mighty Queen, your leadership may be questioned if—”

“Distikka!” The Fire Queen greeted her assistant’s arrival far too warmly for Xakthan’s liking. “You have everything?”

Distikka nodded and handed Malveria an elegantly woven bag. The contents clanked lightly as the Fire Queen took it in hand.

“Xakthan, I must depart.”

“But—”

“Important matters call. Take care of affairs while I’m away.”

And with that, Malveria was gone, snapping her fingers to send herself hurtling through the dimensions.

She materialized outside Thrix’s apartment in Knightsbridge and knocked lightly on the door. Thrix answered right away.

“Enchantress!” the queen greeted her friend with a kiss on both cheeks. “I bring gifts.” Malveria swept inside.

The enchantress, used to Malveria’s volatile temper, wasn’t surprised to find that their argument was now apparently forgotten. “What gifts?”

Malveria produced several bottles with a flourish. “Inspired by cocktail dresses you are making me. As I may have mentioned, cocktails are unknown in my world. But Distikka has secured these supplies, which she assures me are a simple introduction to something called
martini
.” The queen smiled broadly. “I believe you mix the contents of the bottles and…” She paused. “Enchantress, while I am not entirely clear on the cocktail instructions, I did receive the clear impression one is not supposed to swig directly from the bottle of gin.”

“I’m under stress,” said Thrix, and she shuddered as she swallowed the spirits.

“Problems?”

“My bank manager wants to see me. And Abukenti are bringing out a new range of shoes.”

The Fire Queen gasped. “Shoes from Abukenti? To match their fabulous bag? But this is wonderful!”

“It’s not so wonderful if we can’t get them,” said Thrix. “Look at this.”

She handed a sheet of paper to Malveria, a press release from Abukenti.

To mark the fiftieth anniversary of the Abukenti Fashion House, Abukenti has created a new and exclusive range of shoes to match this year’s design classic, the Abukenti bag. Abukenti will make only one hundred pairs of these shoes, to be distributed to our most valued customers.

Underneath the writing, there was a picture of a pair of shoes, silver high heels, very delicately crafted, a perfect match for the handbag.

Malveria reeled in shock as she read the press release, stunned by both the beauty of the shoes and the possibility that she might not get a pair. “Only one hundred pairs? But this is monstrous!” She turned the paper over as if seeking further enlightenment on the subject, but there was no more. She used the paper to fan herself briefly then sat down, feeling faint. “Are we among their most valued customers?” she asked, hopefully.

“I doubt it,” replied Thrix with a pained expression. “Not that the shoes will go to valued customers anyway. Abukenti have had such a runaway success with the bag that they’re using this shoe thing as a way of grabbing more publicity. They’ll hand them out to movie stars, supermodels, and the editors of fashion magazines.”

“But I
must
have the shoes,” said Malveria.

“Me too,” said Thrix, “but we’re not going to get them.”

The Fire Queen was distraught. “How could we possibly turn up for the
Vogue
fashion awards and not be wearing these shoes? We will be disgraced. Banished to the far corner for people with inferior shoes. Models will point at us and laugh.”

Thrix and the Fire Queen looked at each other in despair, contemplating the awfulness of this prospect.

“I feel faint, Enchantress. Pass me the gin.” Malveria drank, winced at the taste, then drank again. “We must think of a plan to obtain the shoes.”

Thrix sat on the couch beside her. “We don’t have much time. They didn’t even send this press release to me. I’m not important enough, apparently. I only got it because Easterly sent me a copy. The shoes will probably be on their way to their intended recipients in a few days.”

Malveria placed the bottle on the floor. Some color had returned to her cheeks, and there was a determined glint in her eye.

“Then we must cope with the crisis. I waded through a river of blood to kill the Three-Headed Dragon of Despair. I won’t give up these shoes without a fight.”

“We’ll be facing stiff competition. I’m sure we’re not the only women wondering how to get their hands on a pair.”

Malveria nodded, looking quite fierce. “Indeed. Already in New York, Moscow, and Milan, our rivals will be plotting and scheming. We must use all our resources. Surely with the cunning of our sorcery, we can obtain the shoes?”

“It hasn’t brought us any closer to Susi Surmata, has it?” said Thrix, reflecting on another of her current failures. “I still can’t get in touch with her.”

“No matter, Enchantress. We must continue with that campaign while opening a new front. These people will not defeat us.”

Thrix was bolstered by the Fire Queen’s spirited optimism. “We need more information. Where the shoes are, and who’s getting them. When we know that, we’ll know what to do. We might be able to bribe someone. Or failing that, steal a pair.”

“I will suspend all government business while we manage the crisis. We must have these shoes, and quickly.” Malveria shuddered. “I have this continual nightmare that that Princess Kabachetka may appear on
Vogue
’s Fashionable Party People page before me. The injustice of it chills me to the bone. Enchantress, please stop hogging the gin. I am in need of some strengthening.”

The days preceding the twins’ warehouse gig had been full of difficulties. Beauty and Delicious were keen to play but loath to rehearse. Dominil wouldn’t hear of them appearing on stage without preparing properly, no matter how small the gig. It led to arguments. Dominil got her way at the cost of bad feelings. Once again she found herself dragging the sisters from their beds and constantly phoning the other members of the band to make sure they arrived at rehearsals on time.

As the gig approached, the twins’ excitement grew, culminating, as Dominil accurately foresaw, in huge episodes of anxiety. It was something of a paradox that, while the twins were keen to succeed with their band, they were also scared of going on stage. Dominil was good at bullying them into rehearsing more but not so good at reassuring them about their anxieties. The twins’ standard response to their stage fright was to drink more, and as they drunk rather a lot in the first place, it wasn’t long before neither of them were capable of picking up a guitar or singing or even standing upright. Dominil sighed with frustration, picked them off of the floor, dragged them home to sleep, then dragged them out the next day to rehearse again.

Making everything worse, Pete was still acting foolishly. Though he managed to pick up his guitar again, he was still calling Dominil at all hours, leaving agonized messages on her answering machine, and behaving like a depressed lover at every opportunity. Dominil felt that if she caught him looking at her with sad, moody eyes one more time, she might suddenly transform and rip his head off. She was fed up with the whole thing and regretted ever sleeping with him. It was a small mercy that he at least hadn’t revealed the source of his unhappiness to anyone else.

As the twins’ house descended into chaos with the sisters rushing around trying on clothes, discussing set lists, and occasionally throwing up from nerves, Dominil remained in control. She was obliged to slightly increase her intake of laudanum—a problem she knew she’d have to deal with sometime—but she managed to organize everyone and everything for the gig, even though she had still had the distraction of Albermarle to deal with. She felt it quite likely that Albermarle would do something on the night of the gig. From the information she’d been able to gather, she didn’t think the Avenaris Guild would be making a large-scale attack, but she’d be surprised if Albermarle didn’t make an appearance. As it was a private party, it hadn’t been advertised anywhere, but Albermarle seemed capable of finding out anything he needed to know.

“Do you like these shades?” yelled Beauty, rushing into Dominil’s office. “Or these ones or these ones?” Beauty tried on three pairs in quick succession.

“The first ones,” said Dominil.

Beauty looked dubious and hurried out again. The sisters had a lot of sunglasses and a lot of clothes. Most of them were now strewn around the house as part of the three-day process of dressing for the gig.

Dominil noticed she had email. She opened it. It was from Albermarle. Dominil didn’t know how he’d learned her email address.

“Have fun at the gig, Dominil.”

Dominil closed the email. Her eyes narrowed slightly. If Albermarle thought he could unnerve her by waging psychological warfare, he was going to be disappointed. Dominil could not be unnerved. She could be angered, however, and she was now. Chasing her out of the British Museum was bad enough. No one sent threatening emails to Dominil. She’d make him regret it.

Kalix had decided not to go to the gig, but that didn’t prevent her from feeling annoyed about everyone going off without her. It didn’t seem that anyone had tried very hard to persuade her. “They didn’t really want me to go,” thought Kalix. “I could tell.”

The doorbell rang.

Kalix hurried downstairs. “If that’s them coming back to ask me again, I’m still not going,” she muttered. “I hate Yum Yum Sugary Snacks and Dominil too.”

It was Decembrius.

Kalix glowered at him. “How did you find me again?” she demanded, fingering her necklace. As far as she knew, its powers of hiding should still protect her, causing unwanted visitors to forget where she lived even if they’d visited before.

“I have powers of finding things,” said Decembrius.

“So you keep saying.”

“I found the meeting for you, didn’t I?”

“Then you deserted me.”

“Lucky for you I had the presence of mind to phone Dominil.”

“Why didn’t you come yourself?”

“I collapsed in a coma after I had vision of everyone being killed.”

Kalix stared at him. “Your visions are stupid. I don’t believe you even had one.”

“I did. It was powerful.”

“You’re lying,” said Kalix. “Go away.”

Decembrius, normally proud, seemed to sag a little in the doorway, and for a second, there was something vulnerable about him.

“Could I just come in for a while anyway? I’ve been…depressed.”

“Depressed? Why?”

“I don’t know. It just happens.”