The Curse of the Wolf Girl (24 page)

“You appreciate the value of this necklace? It dates back more than three-and-a-half-thousand years,” Malveria told the Fairy Queen. “It was made from the flaming elements of the volcanic eruption at Santorini, captured in mid-flight by my ancestor Queen Malmardi. Who had rather encouraged the explosion, so the family legend goes. It contains the living fire of a previous era and is quite priceless.”

“I admire the way it glitters. I always have.”

The Fire Queen grappled with emotion. She really shouldn’t be betting her Santorini necklace. But she really wanted the Fairy Queen’s lipstick.

“Very well,” said Malveria at last. “It’s a bet. Provided you extend our parameters somewhat. Shall we say that if any of the MacRinnalch women engage in a happy romance in the next four months, I shall be the winner?”

“Three months.”

“Dithean, you drive a hard bargain, as fairies often do. Very well, three months.”

Vex’s enthusiasm for college had not dimmed. She infuriated Kalix by rushing into her room, demanding to know why Kalix wasn’t ready yet. Kalix regarded the morning with bleary eyes. She wished it was still dark so she might turn into a werewolf and kill Vex on the spot. Instead, she rose slowly from her bed, pulled on some old clothes, and trooped miserably downstairs. Moonglow was up already, making tea and yawning. Moonglow wasn’t at her best in the early morning, which was some relief to Kalix. At least it spared her the annoyance of having to listen to an encouraging lecture.

Daniel and Moonglow both had classes at university, and Daniel drove them all into the center of town. As they moved slowly through the morning traffic, hemmed in by buses and a great fleet of parental vehicles carrying children to school, the mood in the car settled into a familiar pattern. Daniel was morose, Moonglow was thoughtful, Kalix was in a bad mood, and Vex was agog with excitement.

“Isn’t this great! We’re going to college again! We’re going to learn math today!”

Vex’s long-suffering tutors in her own dimension would have been amazed at the enthusiasm she now displayed for studying mathematics. Vex had proved herself resistant to their best efforts. Now, liberated from the constraints of the imperial palace, she showed almost as much enthusiasm for college as she did for Camden Market.

“Good luck,” said Moonglow, sincerely. Moonglow had been impressed by Vex’s enthusiasm, though she knew that Vex and Kalix’s math class was nothing more than a simple entry-level affair, designed to bring them up to the level of numeracy shown by eight- or nine-year-olds.

“Do you think we should be cheerleaders?” screamed Vex, and began to make up a cheer.

“There aren’t any cheerleaders,” said Kalix, angrily.

“There must be.”

“We’re not going to school in California, you idiot,” said Kalix. “It’s just some small college for stupid people. There aren’t any cheerleaders.”

“Are you sure about that?” asked Vex. “I’ve never seen any college on TV where they don’t have cheerleaders.”

Agrivex’s entire experience of education had been formed from television, most of it American. The fact that the shabby old building they now attended bore no relation to anything ever shown on television hadn’t disturbed her illusions.

“Do you have cheerleaders at your university?” she asked Moonglow.

“No. I don’t even know if there’s any sports.”

Daniel didn’t know either. Neither he nor Moonglow had ever paid any attention to sports, either at school or university. It had never been an important subject at any institute they’d attended.

“Look, I’ve got new paper and a pencil and a marker pen!”

Vex brandished her college supplies enthusiastically. Kalix sunk down in the back seat and wished that she were somewhere else. It was bad enough having to display her ignorance in front of strangers without Agrivex making the whole thing intolerable. When Daniel dropped them off just south of the river, Vex leapt from the car.

“I am so ready to learn things!”

Catching sight of Kalix’s unhappy face, Moonglow was again moved to pity. “Poor Kalix,” she said as they drove off. “If the lessons don’t kill her, Vex might.”

Daniel didn’t reply. In recent days, his conversation had dropped to a series of grunts. His demeanor was now so hostile that Moonglow felt they couldn’t go on like this. It was too much of a strain. Moonglow regretted that she couldn’t go out with him, but there was nothing to be done about it. “Although,” thought Moonglow, “even if it wasn’t for the curse, he’s not exactly showing himself in an attractive light anyway.”

* * *

At the remedial college, Vex was rushing into class, exchanging greetings with everyone. She was already a well-known figure, both for her extravagant appearance and for her outgoing personality. She exchanged friendly smiles with two young Chinese students, here to improve their English skills, and with a rather sinister-looking middle-aged man with dark tattoos on his arms. He was a prisoner nearing the end of his sentence, now on day-release to improve his education. Their teacher for the day stood in front of the class. A prematurely aged man in a gray suit that had seen better days, he had the air of a man who was disappointed with his lot.

“We’re about to learn the basics of long division,” he began.

“I have a new marker pen!” came a voice from the middle of the class.

The teacher looked up in surprise. “Pardon?”

“Bright yellow!” said Vex, waving the pen. “I can really highlight things now.”

“Very good,” said the teacher, dryly. “Now if you’ll look at the example on—”

“Will there be a lot of stuff to highlight?”

“I’m sure you’ll find plenty of opportunities.”

“I like highlighting,” said Vex, and beamed at the teacher.

A few people in the class giggled. The teacher seemed to shrink a little. Attempting to gather himself, he directed the attention of his students towards the blackboard and continued to speak. “As you can see—”

“Kalix, do you need to borrow a highlighter?” cried Vex, loudly. “I have some spare ones—green and pink and yellow. I like yellow best.”

“Please pay attention,” said the teacher, firmly. The young Fire Elemental smiled at him broadly to show she was paying attention.

The two Chinese students next to her frowned at her, wanting to get on with the lesson. Vex beamed at them too. Kalix slumped in her chair and wondered if this would ever end.

The enchantress relaxed on her couch. There was a bottle of wine on the table next to her, and two glasses hovering in the air. She made the wine bottle float, filled the two glasses, and snapped her fingers to bring one towards her, leaving the other hovering in the air.

The Fire Queen materialized beside her on the couch. “Am I on time?”

“Just about to begin.”

“Excellent. I do so love the Japanese fashion cable network.” Malveria drew the other glass of wine towards her and then sat contentedly beside the enchantress, watching their favorite program.

“These shoes are not good at all,” said the Fire Queen, after ten minutes or so. “I have many better pairs. Nor do I like her handbag. Though I have some liking for the cocktail dress.”

Thrix agreed with Malveria. “It’s nice. Not too much like the one I’ll show you tomorrow though.”

The queen smiled in anticipation of the new range of cocktail dresses the enchantress had prepared for her. “I am expecting many triumphs at my upcoming social events. My subjects may ever after speak with awe of the fabulous age of Malveria’s splendid cocktail dresses.” She smiled warmly and picked her bag off of the floor to cradle it in her lap. “Ever since I obtained this bag, life has felt good.”

The enchantress nodded. Her own bag, a match for the Fire Queen’s, rested on the floor beside the couch. Since the enchantress had secured two advance copies of the Abukenti handbag, a bag that had rapidly become the number one item that the fashionable woman must have, both Malveria and Thrix had felt themselves enveloped in the warm glow that only having the most wanted handbag on the planet could produce. There were important people in the fashion world—editors, billionaires’ wives, princesses—who would have done anything to get hold of an Abukenti bag but couldn’t. The range had sold out immediately. It was a great triumph for Thrix that she’d secured them, and one that had brought both herself and the Fire Queen much happiness.

“There’s nothing like a really good handbag,” sighed Malveria, during the commercial break. “It gets one through all sorts of crises.” She sipped her wine. “Have you located Susi Surmata, the reluctant fashion writer?”

Thrix frowned and brought her own bag from the floor on to her lap for comfort. “No. I’ve emailed the woman five more times, and she still hasn’t gotten back to me. She obviously hated my clothes and decided not to write about them. Leaving me looking foolish in the eyes of the fashion buyer at Eldridges who will now never buy any clothes from me. Leading to debt, failure, and bankruptcy.”

“Perhaps you exaggerate a little?”

“Not much. Damn Susi Surmata.”

“We must find her. Bring forth all the information you have on her, and we will work great sorcery. Did I tell you that I recently tricked the vile Princess Kabachetka? My intelligence services managed to convince her that she was turning up merely for some daytime event when it was in fact an evening soiree, and the poor woman had to remain for hours, incorrectly dressed! Such hilarity has not been seen in my realm for years.” The Fire Queen paused and looked puzzled. “What were we talking about?”

“Susi Surmata not writing about me.”

“Ah yes. And indeed, I’ve learned that this Susi woman does indeed have great power. Every magazine I read seems to quote her, and fashion editors hang on her words. It is most strange that she has let you down.”

The two friends drank more wine and watched the next segment of the program together.

“Were we speaking of your love life?” asked Malveria after a while.

“No.”

“I’m sure it was mentioned somewhere.”

“It definitely wasn’t,” declared Thrix.

“Ah,” mused Malveria, “a sure sign that it’s going badly. The terrifying lack of romance in your life may have destructive consequences, Enchantress. Something has to be done.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does. Now I know, Enchantress, that you do not enjoy outsiders meddling, and I would never dream of doing such a thing. However, I have been searching for a suitable partner for you.”

“How is that not meddling?”

“A little help hardly counts as meddling. Anyway, I have met the perfect man, at the opera. I’ve arranged for you to have dinner with him tomorrow night.”

“What?” Thrix’s blue eyes widened in alarm. “You’ve set me up on a blind date? For tomorrow night?”

“Is it not splendid?”

“No! I’m busy. And besides, blind dates are always a disaster.”

“But all your dates are disasters, dearest friend. You may at least try this one. Really, he is a most suitable man, employed in the fashion industry, with a keen eye for a good frock. I found him charming and attractive.”

Thrix felt an urgent need to fill up her wine glass. “How am I supposed to make conversation with a man I don’t know?”

“Enchantress, a woman who masterminded the defeat of the terrible Three-Headed Dragon of Despair does not just send her friend out on a date without planning in advance. I will be there to move things along. I’ve arranged for you, your date, myself, and Mr. Felicori to eat together in that splendid restaurant near to the opera house. Do not worry about piling on surplus pounds; Mr. Felicori is a large man with a hearty appetite and can no doubt eat for both of us.”

Thrix was by this time staring at the queen open-mouthed. “You’re having dinner with Felicori? The opera singer?”

“Is it not excellent? I have separated him from the herd of women who pursued him, and now we will have dinner. Your mother’s opera venture is now secure. Mr. Felicori will sing for her, not wishing to fail to do me a favor.”

Thrix, while not liking the sound of the plan at all, was forced to admit that the queen had done well if she’d persuaded Felicori to sing in Edinburgh. “Thanks, Malveria. Mother will be pleased. But did you really have to include me in your plans? I don’t want to go on a date.”

“Nonsense, Enchantress. Your body is screaming for sex.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Then it should be. I am so looking forward to our dinner together.”

Thrix sighed. There seemed no way out of it. “What’s this man’s name?”

“James. Or, if you wish to refer to him by his old military title—which some women do find thrilling—Captain Easterly.”

Verasa MacRinnalch, wife of the late Thane, mother of the new Thane, and still Mistress of the Werewolves, sat in her airy chamber in the castle and contemplated her forthcoming fundraising event with pleasure. Markus had proved to be a very able organizer, and she was delighted with the way he’d helped. Now it seemed almost certain that Felicori would sing at her event, so it was bound to garner a lot of attention. Verasa felt unusually warm towards Thrix. Verasa didn’t quite know how she’d done it, but Thrix had persuaded the notoriously difficult Felicori to sing for them. It was splendid news, even more satisfying than the letter she’d received recently from the moderator of the Church of Scotland, thanking her for her generous contribution to the restoration of the old church in Cromarty.

She took a few sips from her glass of red wine, savoring the drink and feeling more relaxed than she had for a long time. Her event was going to be successful. Markus was a good Thane. Life was satisfactory.

A servant knocked discreetly and entered her chambers. “There’s a woman at the castle gates asking to see you, Mistress.”

“At the gates? Someone we know?” Castle MacRinnalch was located in a very remote part of the Highlands. Strangers didn’t just appear at the gates.

“Apparently not. The guard would have dismissed her, but she introduced herself as Princess Kabachetka. Not wishing to offend a member of the royal family, he asks for advice.”