The Curse of the Wolf Girl (58 page)

“Woohoo, it’s Slade!” cried Beauty, clambering over onto the front seat from the back of the van, a maneuver that caused her mass of pink hair to temporarily blind Dominil.

Dominil angrily brushed it from her face. “Do you have to keep playing that?” she said, with irritation. Her worlds were mostly lost beneath the music and the noise of the van, which was quite elderly, and didn’t run smoothly.

“What’s that?” yelled Beauty. “You want to hear it again?”

Dominil gritted her teeth and kept on driving. She was determined to complete the journey as quickly as possible. So far she’d resisted the frequent requests from the twins to pull over into a gas station, where they could fill themselves up with whatever food and sweets were on offer. Dominil had other things on her mind. Albermarle had sent her many text messages over the past few days. He’d phoned her up, and he’d emailed her. His infantile campaign of psychological harassment did not in itself worry Dominil, but it made her wary of what might happen next. Presumably at some stage, he was planning to take action. Dominil thought it unlikely that he’d dare to stage an attack on Edinburgh, but she was on her guard.

Something else troubled her. Thrix’s report that someone might have been copying Minerva’s spells in the castle library. Why would that be? Apart from Thrix, there were no other sorcerers in the clan. There seemed no reason for anyone to copy Minerva’s spells. Unless, as Dominil suggested, they were to be transmitted to someone outside the clan.

“It’s unlikely, but not impossible,” she thought. “We’ve had clan members sell information before.”

Dominil’s thoughts were interrupted by an outbreak of laughter so loud as to almost drown out The Sweet, another of the twins’ glam-rock favorites.

“Dominil,” cried Beauty, turning down the music to let herself be heard. “Did you really dress up as Wonder Woman for a party at university?”

Dominil’s lips compressed to the thinnest of lines. She drove on without replying.

Delicious’s head appeared over the back of the seat. “Someone just sent us a text saying you dressed up as Wonder Woman. Is that true?”

Dominil pretended not to hear and kept on driving. She hoped that Albermarle did show up in Edinburgh. If he did, she would certainly kill him.

Albermarle’s assistants, Orion and Pictor, were dubious about his plan. It seemed rash to travel to Scotland to confront a strong werewolf like Dominil in her own territory. Orion hadn’t fully recovered from the mauling Dominil had given him and still wore bandages over his damaged shoulder.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Albermarle told them, rather condescendingly. “For one thing, she won’t be in her own territory. She’ll be in Edinburgh. Dominil comes from some place in the Highlands, a long way north. She’ll be just as out of place in the city as us. Besides, when we confront her, she’ll be powerless.”

“Why?”

“She won’t be able to turn into a werewolf. It’s part of a plan I’ve worked out with Easterly. Don’t worry, it’s all in hand.”

Albermarle was distorting the truth. He knew about Captain Easterly’s scheme for removing werewolf powers by way of Princess Kabachetka’s sorcery but hadn’t learned of it through any shared planning. Albermarle had been listening in to Easterly’s phone calls. Had Easterly known, he’d have been livid. Nonetheless, Albermarle’s assistants were reassured by the mention of Easterly. He was a very respected hunter. If Albermarle was collaborating with him, it must be part of a well-organized enterprise.

“We’ll soon see who’s the smartest,” said Albermarle.

“What?”

Albermarle faltered. He hadn’t really meant to say that out loud. “Just be ready to leave tonight. And bring plenty of bullets.” With that, he left his companions to make final preparations for their journey and headed back to the comic shop.

* * *

Albermarle was standing behind the counter downstairs when Kalix came in. He smiled at her. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Kalix nodded. Daniel had received an alert from the comic shop that the missing issue of
Curse of the Wolf Girl
had come in, and he had told Kalix immediately.

Albermarle noted that Kalix seemed to have deteriorated. Her hair, once shiny, was again lank, and there were dark circles around her eyes. Her cheeks had sunk a fraction, and her frame, always slight, was completely swamped by her old coat. There was a hint of a stain on her hand that might have been blood, as if it had dripped there from her arm and been carelessly wiped off.

Albermarle reached below the counter and produced a comic. “Last issue of
Curse of the Wolf Girl
.”

Kalix stared at it with dull eyes. “I don’t really like these comics. But…”

“But you had to complete the set.” Albermarle finished the sentence for her, sympathetically. He understood perfectly. Having eleven issues out of twelve would have made him uncomfortable too. He handed over the comic while Kalix fumbled for money in her pocket.

“It’s my lunch break,” said Albermarle. “I’m going to the café down the road. Do you want to come?”

Kalix was surprised to be asked. She wasn’t looking for company. But she quite liked Albermarle, and she appreciated him hunting out the last comic for her, so she agreed.

They walked out of the shop onto Oxford Street, and Albermarle led them down several backstreets to Lucia’s.

“This is the last traditional working-man’s café in the center of town,” he told Kalix.

Lucia’s had never been modernized. It still had tables covered in yellow formica, hard wooden chairs, and a steamy, friendly atmosphere. It was frequented by delivery drivers and students. A large woman behind the counter took orders on a tiny notepad and shouted through to the cook in the back. The café had made no concessions to modern ideas of healthy eating and proudly advertised its all-day English breakfast of bacon, fried eggs, beans, sausages, fried tomatoes, mushrooms, toast, and chips, with a few additional options. Albermarle was a frequent visitor, and the woman behind the counter greeted him cheerfully.

“Full English breakfast.”

Kalix felt slightly nauseous surrounded by the aroma of so much food. She struggled to read the menu but wasn’t hungry anyway. “Just a cup of tea, please.”

The waitress gave Kalix her tea at the counter, pouring it into a large blue mug from a huge urn that simmered constantly on the counter, meanwhile shouting through Albermarle’s order.

“I come here a lot,” said Albermarle as they sat down. “It’s one of my favorite cafés. There were a few like this in Oxford when I was there.”

There were two bottles of sauce on the table, a bottle of vinegar, a salt cellar, and some packets of sugar in a bowl. Albermarle absentmindedly arranged them in neat order.

“I do that too,” said Kalix.

“What?”

“Arrange things.”

A different waitress appeared and placed cutlery in front of each of them. Kalix straightened them out, as did Albermarle.

“So you don’t like the comics?” asked Albermarle.

“No. Every issue is stupid. Whoever wrote them doesn’t know anything about werewolves. I mean what werewolves would probably be like.”

Kalix sipped tea from her mug and glanced at her comic. Albermarle’s food arrived, a huge plate crammed to the edges, overhanging where the toast lay at the side. He ate a sausage and an egg then patted his lips with a paper napkin. “I know who killed Gawain,” he said.

Distikka materialized in Princess’s Kabachetka’s hotel room in Edinburgh. She took in her surroundings quickly, suspicious, as always, of this dimension. Distikka didn’t see what the Fire Queen found attractive about Earth and didn’t intend to visit again once she’d taken power. The luxury of Kabachetka’s hotel suite meant nothing to her. Distikka had grown up in a monastery dedicated to poverty and had no inclination to wealth.

“Distikka. Some wine? Would you care to visit the balcony? The view of Edinburgh Castle is rather attractive.”

Distikka waved away both offers. “I can only visit for a very short time. Is everything in order?”

“It is. Malveria attended the reception and was as ludicrous as ever in her attentions to Mr. Felicori. I let her have her way. It’s helpful that she’s distracted.”

“We should go through our plan one more time.”

“Please, Distikka.” The princess was irritated. “We’ve been through it a hundred times.”

“Then once more will do no harm.”

“Fine,” sighed the princess. “When the queen and the enchantress attend the opera tomorrow, we will tell the queen of an emergency at home, causing her to leave. Our spell will strand her between the dimensions. Once she’s out of the way, my spell to bring on a lunar eclipse will remove the enchantress’s powers. Boosted by the strength I’ve given him, Easterly will kill her. By the time the queen finally breaks through and returns to her palace, you will have taken control of the Great Volcano and will kill her. Nothing should go wrong. Unless you lack the power to defeat the queen.”

“Gargamond’s regiment no longer defends the palace. Nothing can prevent me from taking control of the volcano and the army.”

“Malveria has overcome great odds before.”

Distikka was unperturbed. “Malveria has grown soft. Even without the balance of forces in my favor, I’d still defeat her. Is Prince Esarax attending?”

The princess nodded. She had succeeded in luring her brother to the event, thanks to her wooing of his consort, Lady Krimsich. “I persuaded the foolish woman that her status at court would be greatly increased were she to attend. She is dragging my brother with her, much to his displeasure. Your agents will intercept him on his journey back and dispose of him?”

“That’s correct.”

“Are you sure that will happen?” demanded the princess. “If Esarax survives and I’m implicated, I’ll be executed.”

“It will happen. By this time tomorrow I’ll be ruler of the Hiyasta and you will be heir to the Hainusta throne.”

The princess smiled. How pleased she would be to be rid of Thrix and Malveria. With them out of the way, taking revenge on Kalix shouldn’t be too difficult. Her smile faded quickly. “I’m still worried about Malveria. If she senses anything amiss, she might warn Thrix.”

“I don’t think Malveria will sense anything,” said Distikka, confidently. She opened the rough military bag she carried and produced something that made the princess’s eyes glitter with desire.

“
The Abukenti shoes
,” the princess whispered in awe.

“Our intelligence services tracked them down. I imagine that when you turn up to the opera wearing these shoes, Malveria’s outrage will prevent her from sensing anything.” Distikka looked on dispassionately as the princess flung off her shoes to put on the Abukenti high heels.

“They are the most fabulous shoes ever made!” cried the princess. “Are they not the most fabulous shoes ever made?”

“They look flimsy and impractical.”

The princess bit back a retort. It was wearying sometimes being in partnership with a woman who wore chain-mail and seemed to disapprove of anything else. No matter what Distikka thought of them, the shoes would certainly distract Queen Malveria. Once Malveria saw the princess wearing them, she’d most probably be roused to such a fury that she’d be unable to think rationally.

* * *

The Fire Queen had had a splendid time at the reception, using her friendship with Mr. Felicori to good advantage. Even though the MacRinnalchs who were there clearly disapproved of her, her firm friendship with the singer meant that she couldn’t be ignored. Indeed she managed to dominate the event from start to finish, eclipsing Kabachetka, Verasa MacRinnalch, and every other rival for Mr. Felicori’s attention.

Verasa was obliged to answer questions about her, as friends and supporters of the charity wondered about the glamorous woman at Mr. Felicori’s side.

“I don’t know much about her,” said Verasa, maintaining her charm, though inside she was seething. “Yes, she is quite a beauty. And she made a very large donation to the charity.”

* * *

On the way back from the reception, Captain Easterly told Thrix he loved her. Thrix was taken by surprise, not expecting such a declaration at this stage, particularly as Easterly had been obliged to endure an evening of hostile suspicion from her relatives. But she wasn’t taken aback for long and found herself telling him she loved him too, as the elderly black cab took them from the reception to their hotel. Afterwards, in the hotel room with Easterly, she didn’t regret saying it.

Kalix’s low growl was barely audible over the noise in the café.

“How do you know about Gawain? Do you know—”

“Yes,” said Albermarle. “I know what you are.”

“Are you a hunter?”

“Certainly not,” said Albermarle, smoothly, “but I did do some computer work for them.”

“Then maybe I should just kill you now.”

“In daylight?”

“You think I haven’t killed hunters in daylight?”

It hadn’t occurred to Albermarle that she might have. He attempted to pacify her. “I’m not a hunter. My cousin is. I happened to learn a few things, that’s all. My cousin’s been listening in on some phone calls. A woman called Thrix? Is that right?”

Kalix stared at him. She hadn’t abandoned the idea of killing him right now, but she needed to learn what he knew. “What about Gawain?”

“Well, I don’t know much about him really, but when my cousin—”

“Get to the point,” growled Kalix. “Who killed him?”

Albermarle hesitated. He’d planned to lead up to this more gradually, building a convincing picture of himself as an innocent party, but he hadn’t bargained for Kalix’s instant ferocity. The muscles in her face were already twitching, and her body came an inch off the chair, as if she was ready to spring.

“Dominil,” said Albermarle. “Dominil killed him.”