The Curse of the Wolf Girl (47 page)

“I’ve been living with this curse for months. I don’t know what would have happened without it. Maybe we should just not talk about it.”

Daniel felt his spirit drain. “Fine. We’ll not talk about it. I almost die of some deadly disease after kissing you, but you don’t want to talk about it.”

“You didn’t have a deadly disease. It was a cold or one of those sudden viruses.”

“A severe one. Probably made worse by Malveria’s sorcery. If I keel over and die because I was overcome with passion, the least you can do is talk about it.”

“Will you stop saying you were overcome with passion? You just drank too much.”

“It’s the same thing. So how about it? Without the curse, would we be going out?” Daniel hadn’t intended to pursue the subject so relentlessly, but Moonglow’s failure to address it was irritating him.

“I keep telling you, I don’t know!” protested Moonglow. “Have you noticed how annoying you’ve been recently? Always angry about something?”

“That’s only because you were being unreasonable. Which I now forgive you for. Obviously, you were concerned about my health.”

“Well, it was annoying anyway. It’s been stressful enough in the house without you being angry and playing loud music all the time. If I hear We Slaughtered Them and Laughed one more time, I’m going to grind their CD under a spiky heel.”

Daniel was wounded. “I thought you liked them.”

“No one likes them apart from you. A world without the grim sound of We Slaughtered Them and Laughed would be an improvement.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m obsessed.”

“You are.”

Daniel pondered this. “So what you’re really saying is if I didn’t spend so much time listening to We Slaughtered Them and Laughed, then you’d go out with me?”

“That’s not what I said at all! What’s the point of discussing it anyway? Malveria’s curse won’t go away. We’re stuck with it.”

“Maybe we could get the curse lifted? Malveria’s not so intractable really.”

Moonglow went silent again, and whether she was thinking that it would be a good idea to get the curse lifted or not, Daniel couldn’t tell.

At that moment, Vex appeared. “Are you hiding behind the giant robot? Can I hide too? Kalix got three more comics. Now she’s got eight.”

Kalix was deep in conversation with the large assistant, who was pointing out something in one of her new comics. Kalix looked interested and actually laughed at something he said.

The atmosphere was strained between Moonglow and Daniel as they left the shop. Fortunately Vex was preoccupied with a
Tokyo Top Pop Boom-Boom Girl
action figure she’d bought and ceased tormenting them about their relationship.

“You were a long time talking to the assistant, Kalix.”

“He liked my hair.”

Daniel looked concerned. “Your hair? What’s he talking about your hair for? Did he try to pick you up? Was it creepy?”

Kalix shook her head. “He wasn’t creepy. He just said my hair was so long it reminded him of some woman he knew. She’s Scottish too. He was okay.”

“He’s called Albermarle,” said Vex. “He’s really interesting. He knows loads about comics and games and manga.”

Moonglow turned towards Daniel. “Is
manga
those comics you have with the Japanese schoolgirls in really short skirts?”

“I told you before, they were secret agents. The short skirts were just a disguise.”

“And the tiny little halter tops?”

“Also a disguise.”

“Wouldn’t a really short skirt and a tiny little top be a really bad disguise? Everyone would look at you.”

“You just don’t understand comics,” said Daniel.

“Why not just admit you were leering at pictures of girls in short skirts?”

“Who’s been leering?” said Vex, brightly.

“Daniel.”

“Ignore everything Moonglow says. She knows nothing about comics.”

The Fire Queen rode out in her silver carriage, a light and wondrously elegant vehicle she used for social engagements. “I do much prefer this to the official state carriage. One never feels entirely comfortable in that huge golden edifice.”

“The population loves to see you in your golden carriage, Your Highness.”

“Very true, Gruselvere. And I do appreciate the cheering.”

The silver carriage made its way through the outskirts of the fashionable area that surrounded the palace, part of a small procession that included palace dignitaries and Malveria’s retinue of guards and servants. Distikka was riding in the carriage in front.

“I thought the Vulcanalia went well.”

Gruselvere nodded. “I have never heard such a roar as when you led them through the Great Volcano. The ceremony was magnificent.”

Malveria smiled. It had indeed been magnificent. The new alterations to her state robes, as recently tailored by Thrix MacRinnalch, had been widely admired. Admittedly, several members of her council had chafed at the alterations, pointing out that they were the most traditional of Hiyasta garments and had remained unchanged for hundreds of years. But as Malveria pointed out, she was far more slender than previous occupants of the throne, and there was no point having state robes that hid her figure.

The two other occupants of the carriage, young handmaidens, suddenly giggled and hid their faces behind their fans.

“Will you stop this interminable giggling?” the queen demanded with mock severity. She turned to Gruselvere. “They think I’m unaware of their current obsession with the handsome young valet currently employed by Duke DeMortalis. I am well aware of it, ladies. Nothing in the palace escapes my attention.”

The handmaidens giggled again. Beau DeMortalis’s new valet had been creating quite a stir among the servants, almost as much as the duke himself. As one of the nation’s richest and most eligible bachelors, the duke stirred hearts wherever he went. The Fire Queen had never regretted sparing his life, valuing both his wit and his dress sense.

Gruselvere shushed the handmaidens. “I packed another full outfit in an extra carriage.”

The queen nodded. The upcoming soiree at the townhouse of the Countess Rechen-Gaval was a relatively informal affair. Three outfits should be sufficient. Malveria, however, never liked to take risks and traveled with several spare outfits. Though her clothes were designed by Thrix and could be relied on to outshine her rivals, it was wise to have something in reserve. The finest dress could be ruined by a careless hand at the punch bowl.

“One really cannot trust the young countess’s servants. Not that I trust the countess either. I regret the death of her mother.”

“You despised her mother.”

“True,” admitted Malveria, “but at least you knew where you stood with her. Thanks to her unfortunate passing, I am now obliged to be civil to her daughter, at least till she proves herself unworthy. There is bad blood in the family. Fortunately the appalling Agrivex is not here to shame us.”

Gruselvere nodded. Though the wardrobe mistress could not really picture what Vex’s life on Earth was like, she understood that the Fire Queen was moderately pleased with her niece’s progress.

Malveria sighed. “But the tedium of greeting the new countess—have you noticed how sturdy her ankles are?—is as nothing compared to the misery of enduring Kabachetka’s company. I so regret having to invite these barbaric neighbors to our festival.”

“There’s no need to worry,” said Gruselvere. “These days she’s hardly even a rival.”

“True. I have laid her to waste on the battleground of style. Even so, I do hate to meet the princess. One is grateful that her appalling mother is indisposed.”

“What’s the matter with her?”

Malveria shrugged. “Who knows? Some minor complaint no doubt. The empress has always been a dreadful hypochondriac.” The queen frowned very deeply. “And there is always the matter of the card table.” A few flames flickered around her fingertips. She doused them quickly, knowing it was unbecoming to exhibit such emotion in front of young handmaidens, but she couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. “It’s intolerable that I’m doomed to defeat because of the duchess’s appalling play. Might not the queen be expected to have a competent partner at the card table? If Gargamond makes another foolish bid, I will certainly say something very harsh to her.”

“The duchess is an important ally,” ventured the queen’s dresser, who was not unaware of palace politics.

“I know. But does this give her the right to humiliate me in front of the assembled Hiyasta aristocracy? I think not.” Malveria snapped her fingers. “Handmaidens. Stop giggling and attend to my makeup. The terrible prospect of partnering Gargamond has caused me to glow and may have affected my eyeliner. Initiate repairs, and be quick about it. I’m also experiencing doubts about my lip coloring. Really, this is all very stressful.”

The Douglas-MacPhees were angry about Decembrius failing to meet them as arranged, particularly as he owed them money.

“Maybe we should pay him a visit,” suggested Rhona.

“Maybe we should,” agreed Duncan, and led his companions towards their dusty, old black van.

* * *

If the Douglas-MacPhees weren’t pleased with Decembrius, Kalix MacRinnalch was feeling a little more kindly towards him. He’d stood up to her mother. He hadn’t seemed intimidated by Thrix either. Kalix had long felt the need of an ally against her family. She still didn’t much like it that he was obviously attracted to her. She didn’t feel much attraction towards him. Now that Gawain was dead, Kalix didn’t feel like she’d ever be attracted to anyone again.

The young werewolf traveled north, sitting upstairs on a double-decker bus, doing her best to ignore a group of noisy schoolchildren who’d been screaming at each other from the moment they swarmed on board. She tried calling Decembrius, but he didn’t answer, which irritated her. He hadn’t answered his phone all day. She wondered if she might have gotten the arrangement wrong, though she was sure she hadn’t.

The schoolchildren reminded Kalix of her upcoming exam, which brought on a larger jolt of anxiety than she was expecting. The thought of taking an exam was enough to make her palms sweat. She tried to put it to the back of her mind, but it was difficult. For some reason her life seemed to be revolving around the exam. Daniel and Moonglow kept talking about it. Vex wouldn’t shut up about it. Even her mother knew about it. If Kalix failed, then Moonglow would treacherously tell her mother, and then the whole family would know. Probably the whole clan. Kalix could imagine them talking far and wide in the Scottish werewolf community about how the Thane’s wayward daughter had once more shown herself to be a failure.

“I don’t even want to do the exam,” fumed Kalix, as the bus trundled north past Mornington Crescent. “I’m not going to do it. I’m not doing my assignment either. Why should I?”

As she thought this, she couldn’t help but feel the bottle of laudanum in her pocket, which was very light. She was running out and needed more. Her only source of income was the allowance from her mother, which would be withdrawn if she left college.

“I can’t pass the exam,” thought Kalix, quite miserably. “It’s just a huge humiliation waiting to happen. I can’t even do the test.”

According to Vex, the class had to take a small test to prepare them for the exam. Moonglow said this was a good idea, but to Kalix, it just meant more worry. The thought of tests and exams was extremely stressful for her and had been causing her almost continual anxiety. Acting on Decembrius’s advice that she pretend to be normal—though perhaps not in a way Decembrius would have anticipated—she’d given herself a permanent reminder. On her own in her room, Kalix had cut a small letter “N” into her upper arm. Sitting in the bus, she brushed her hand against the wound. It hurt, but the memory of what she’d done reassured her a little.

Kalix got off of the bus in Camden. As she walked through the streets, heading for Decembrius’s small apartment, she unexpectedly caught his scent, coming on the light breeze from the west. Scents were difficult to pick up in the polluted city, but his was quite clear. Decembrius wasn’t far away. She turned left down Gloucester Avenue to investigate, and she immediately caught the scent of other werewolves she recognized. The Douglas-MacPhees. Kalix came to an abrupt halt. What were they doing here, close to Decembrius? Decembrius had sworn he had nothing more to do with them. She glanced up at the sky. Though winter was coming to an end, the nights were still long, and there was only half an hour or so till dusk. Kalix didn’t mind meeting the Douglas-MacPhees again. She owed them something. But she’d rather be in her werewolf shape when she paid them back. Anxiety now forgotten, Kalix advanced slowly through the side streets, following the now-mingled scents of Decembrius and the Douglas-MacPhees.

Though Captain Easterly’s apartment block wasn’t quite as opulent as some in the neighborhood, it did offer its residents valet and maid services, personal shopping, and an in-house florist. Easterly didn’t use their cleaning services, not trusting strangers in his apartment, though he had used the florist to send flowers to Thrix. As for Albermarle, he used the personal shopping service to bring him pizza and Chinese food. As Easterly rang his bell, Albermarle opened the door in an oversized T-shirt with food stains on the front. He looked at Easterly suspiciously. “Well?”

“The code worked. I can listen to Thrix’s calls.”

Albermarle nodded and let his cousin in.

“Good work,” said Easterly. He almost added “If only you’d stick to intelligence gathering and stop trying to be a hunter” but refrained. They’d had that argument many times, and Albermarle wasn’t going to change his mind now.

Though Easterly was accustomed to his cousin’s habits, he couldn’t help noticing the clutter everywhere. He moved a model star-fighter on the table to put down the folder he was carrying.

“Don’t touch that!” cried Albermarle, and fussily put it back. He lined it up exactly with the models beside it.