The Curse of the Wolf Girl (46 page)

“I’d asked to see it,” said Dominil. “Gawain probably thought he could defeat me if I tried to take it. He didn’t know that I could activate the knife. I learned when I was trying to kill Sarapen. Gawain lunged at me, and I spoke the words to bring the knife to life. I hoped that Gawain would become confused, and I could leave. You know the confusion the Begravar knife causes in werewolves. Unfortunately, he was too strong to be put off completely. He still managed to rush at me. I was also confused.”

“But not too confused to stab him?”

“That’s right.”

The enchantress gazed at Dominil, amazed at her lack of emotion as she described Gawain’s death. “What happened then?”

“I took the knife to Scotland and handed it over to Markus, who paid me as agreed.”

“I can see why you didn’t want to help Kalix investigate.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t like this at all,” muttered Thrix. “Gawain might have hated the clan, but there was no reason to kill him.”

“He attacked me,” said Dominil. “With my mind affected by the knife’s power, I wasn’t in a position to do anything clever.” Dominil sipped the last of her whisky and refilled her glass. “I believe it’s possible he did intend to sell the knife to the guild. When Kalix visited the flat, she encountered hunters. Possibly they’d simply tracked down a werewolf and moved in for the kill. But it’s possible that they might have been there to do business.”

“How did you even know where he lived?”

“The address was on the letter Kalix showed me.”

Thrix didn’t need to say how Kalix would feel if she ever learned that Dominil had killed Gawain after taking his address from the love letter he’d written to her. She looked at Dominil, wondering about her story. Dominil wasn’t known for telling lies. But she wasn’t known for her patience either. Thrix wondered if Dominil might simply have attacked Gawain when she became tired of negotiating. “You know that Kalix won’t let the matter drop?”

“I was acting within the parameters of clan law.”

Thrix laughed. “That won’t save you if she finds out. Kalix doesn’t pay a lot of attention to clan law.”

“I doubt she’ll learn what happened.”

“How do you know I won’t tell her?”

“Why would you? I protected the clan. I was working for the Thane.”

Thrix shook her head. “I’m not pleased at any of this. I won’t tell Kalix. But I wouldn’t bet against her finding out, somehow or other.”

“If she does, I’ll explain things to her,” said Dominil, evenly.

“A lot of good that will do. Kalix is a psychopath.”

“You exaggerate.”

“Haven’t you noticed how many people she’s killed? And werewolves?”

“That doesn’t make her a psychopath,” objected Dominil. “She’s been forced into violence. There was the clan feud and hunters pursuing her. Every werewolf will kill to protect itself in the right circumstances.”

“True. But not as eagerly as Kalix. Her so-called battle madness is no more than an excuse for her bloodthirsty nature, if you ask me. Kalix can’t hold back once she gets started. She has to kill.”

“Perhaps no one ever taught her to hold back,” suggested Dominil. “She spent much of her childhood alone. She was neglected in the castle.”

Thrix looked momentarily uncomfortable. “I’d left the castle long before she was born.”

“Your parents were both there. So were Sarapen and Markus. I don’t believe Kalix was on the receiving end of much affection. Quite the opposite in fact.”

“Since when do you care about affection? You appear to have no emotions.”

“I have emotions. I just keep them to myself. And my father, while not warm, did care for me as a child.”

“Well, maybe you should have taken Kalix into your family,” said Thrix, sarcastically.

“I did care for her, occasionally. Small things, when she was lonely.”

Thrix was skeptical. “If you were a surrogate mother to Kalix, it’s the first I’ve heard about it.”

“I don’t claim I was a surrogate mother. But I looked after her a few times, when she was very young and the rest of your family was busy elsewhere.”

“That’s not going to prevent her attacking you if she learns you killed Gawain,” said Thrix.

Markus was busy at Andamair House. He’d hired contractors to prepare the galleries for the audience and the stage for Felicori, who would be singing a selection of well-known arias from Verdi and Puccini along with some lesser-known songs selected from his own favorites. Markus intended that he should perform in front of a suitable backdrop and hired a set designer from Edinburgh who’d had great success last year with his designs for
Othello
. Trucks carrying equipment rolled into the grounds of the mansion followed by teams of Theater workers, all supervised by Markus. He was happier than he’d been at any time since being elected Thane. The Mistress of the Werewolves left him mostly alone, trusting his taste, and even those MacRinnalchs who didn’t regard him as a particularly suitable head of the clan acknowledged that if anyone was to make a success of the affair, it was Markus.

There was still some unhappiness at the prospect of so many humans invading MacRinnalch territory. The great mansion of Andamair House was located on the outskirts of Edinburgh, a long way from Castle MacRinnalch, but, even so, it had never hosted a human gathering. There were mutterings of discontent and some dark jokes about what might happen to the Mayor of Edinburgh if he stayed too long on their grounds. On the other hand, the refurbishment provided work, much of which Markus gave to werewolves from the clan, and the income was appreciated. The complaints of those werewolves who didn’t like the thought of humans visiting their mansion were mitigated by the money that flowed into their pockets. Flora MacRinnalch, who ran a business selling timber not far from the castle, had been badly hit by a downturn in the construction industry, but as Markus sent in another order for wood and her trucks headed south, fully laden, she found herself warming to the whole project. Business was business after all. As a clan, the MacRinnalchs had never felt shy about making money.

Markus stayed in Edinburgh during the week, returning to the castle only on weekends. He was still spending his nights there with Beatrice, the assistant curator of the castle relics. While not an exciting relationship, it was comfortable. Comfortable enough for Markus to now tell her about his fondness for cross-dressing, which had gone smoothly enough. Markus was relieved, though he hadn’t really expected it to go that badly. Markus had had many lovers, and it was rare that any, human or werewolf, had objected to his liking for female clothes. It still wasn’t something he’d have liked to be known throughout the clan—the barons certainly wouldn’t have approved—but he was comfortable with Beatrice knowing. She was sympathetic, and though she was too small for most of her clothes to fit Markus, she did let him try on a few blouses that he liked in the privacy of her rooms at the castle.

Merchant MacDoig was fatigued after his day’s work. “I’m not as young as I was, Son.” He sank into his favorite leather armchair in the rooms above his shop. “It takes a powerful amount of concentration to send papers through the dimensions.”

His son looked at him with some concern as he placed a teapot on the huge mantel above the old-fashioned fireplace that warmed the merchant’s feet. It was illegal to burn coal in London these days, but the merchant liked his fireplace. The furnishings in the shop were as antiquated as his dress coat and embroidered waistcoat. The merchant had lived an unnaturally long life and had no wish to change. The teacup that the Young MacDoig handed to his father was an exquisite piece of antique Staffordshire china, part of a set from the display cabinet that was itself a valuable piece of furniture. Merchant MacDoig had never consciously surrounded himself with luxuries, but it pleased him that the ancient furnishings he’d taken good care of were now priceless artifacts. It showed it wasn’t always a good idea to modernize.

“So what does the princess want with copies of pages from a book of moon spells?”

“Something bad, no doubt, probably concerning Thrix MacRinnalch. She still hates her.”

The merchant sipped his tea, holding the small cup quite gracefully in his large hand. He looked thoughtful. “I remember when the old clippers sailed into London carrying tea in chests all the way from China. I saw the
Cutty Sark
coming in on her maiden voyage. Must have been 1872 or thereabouts.” The
Cutty Sark
was still preserved, a floating museum piece in Greenwich. The merchant had a notion to visit it sometime. He’d always liked the sight of a ship in full sail, bringing goods from distant lands. Now they arrived by air. It wasn’t the same. “I don’t know what the princess hopes to achieve, but if it concerns the moon, it’s bound to be bad for werewolves.”

The merchant had done a lot of business with the MacRinnalchs. They were good customers. Verasa MacRinnalch, for instance, was a fine woman; no one could deny it. But business was business, and if Princess Kabachetka had been prepared to offer him such a substantial sum of money to obtain photocopies from a book in Castle MacRinnalch and transport it to her dimension, he wasn’t going turn it down.

“It’s lucky for us that Kertal still has gambling debts.” Kertal, a cousin of the Thane, still lived in the castle. He was always in need of money. “I doubt he’s given that much consideration to what the princess might do with the information.”

The merchant drank his tea, relaxing into his armchair, and wondered if it was too early for a dram. He liked his drop of whisky in the evenings but never let it interfere with work.

“We’ve an order for silver bullets,” said Young MacDoig.

The merchant nodded. “Aye, I saw that. The guild’s made a quicker recovery than I thought they would. Best check the warehouse, son, you never know how many silver bullets we’ll be selling in the next few weeks. If Princess Kabachetka’s got some plot afoot against the MacRinnalchs, the Avenaris Guild will probably try and get in on it somehow.”

Vex managed to persuade a not-too-reluctant household that the best way to celebrate Daniel’s recovery from his illness would be a shopping expedition. Moonglow liked the idea. Though she was still worried about money, Daniel’s sickness had been stressful, and she’d been working hard at college recently. Daniel was keen to leave the house after several days on the couch. They were all surprised when Kalix agreed to accompany them.

“She needs more comics for her assignment,” explained Vex. “
Curse of the Wolf Girl
.”

“How many more do you need? Six?”

“Seven.”

“I thought you had six issues already?”

“I chewed up number four because it was so annoying.” Kalix scowled. “I’m going to denounce them to the whole class. I’m going to let them know you can’t write rubbish like that about werewolves.”

They took the Northern line from Kennington to Tottenham Court Road. Unlike some other underground routes, the Northern line hadn’t been renovated recently, and the carriages were still old, rickety, and not very clean.

“So,” announced Vex in her loudest voice, “you never really talked about this curse thing.”

“What curse thing?”

“You know. You and Daniel not being able to get together.”

“This probably isn’t the time—”

“It’s quite difficult really,” said Vex, “what with Daniel practically risking his life for passion. What are you going to do about it? Why’s everyone gone quiet?”

Daniel and Moonglow were staring at their feet, and even Kalix looked uncomfortable.

“What’s the matter? It’s no use just ignoring it. We should be thinking of a plan to get the curse lifted. I’m good with plans. Daniel, if you’re ever going to succeed with Moonglow, we have to think of a plan.”

Moonglow went bright red and studied her shoes with even more interest.

“Would you just be quiet?” urged Daniel.

As soon as the train rolled into Tottenham Court Road, Daniel and Moonglow hurried to the doors, eager to escape from Vex’s terrible lack of tact.

She pursued them relentlessly along the platform. “How about if Daniel pretends to be dead for a while? That might get the curse lifted. No good? Okay, what about if Moonglow pretends to go mad?”

Outside the station, they passed a busker who was performing a spirited medley of early Elvis Costello hits. Daniel, always sympathetic to musicians, dropped some coins into his hat.

“I know,” cried Vex. “How about if—oww! Kalix just punched me in the arm. Why did you do that?”

“Because you’re being tactless and stupid.”

“How?”

“Moonglow and Daniel don’t want to discuss the curse. You’re embarrassing them.”

Vex was puzzled. “I’m sure you’re wrong. Daniel, is Kalix right? Am I embarrassing you?”

“Yes.”

“But don’t you want to—”

“Here’s the comic shop,” interrupted a relieved Moonglow.

“Thank God,” sighed Daniel, and hurried inside.

“This way!” shouted Vex, leading them downstairs. “Hey look, it’s the friendly assistant who likes manga.”

Agrivex approached a large man in a baggy T-shirt at the counter and then, to general surprise, burst into the theme song for
Tokyo Top Pop Boom-Boom Girl
. Customers looked round in amusement while the assistant greeted Vex cheerfully.

“She really has a talent for making friends,” observed Daniel.

As Vex introduced Kalix to her friend at the counter—“She’s a really big
Curse of the Wolf Girl
fan”—Daniel adroitly drew Moonglow aside, into a section of the shop that sold toys.

“Why are we hiding behind a giant model robot?” asked Moonglow.

“We’re not hiding. I just wanted a quiet place to talk.”

“What about?”

Daniel hesitated then plunged in. “Malveria’s curse. What if it wasn’t there? Would we being going out?”

“I don’t know.”

Daniel sensed Moonglow’s reluctance but persisted anyway. “I think we would be. I mean, why not?”