Curse of the Wolf Girl

by Martin Millar

  His small flat in Camden had begun to seem dingy and unpleasant of late. Normally comfortable on his own, Decembrius realized he was lonely. He felt around in his coat pockets until he found a scrap of paper with a number on it, and then he phoned Elizabeth, a woman he’d met last week in a bar. Decembrius had been drinking at the time, but as far as he remembered, she was pleasant enough. He hadn’t planned on taking it any further but had changed his mind.

  Elizabeth seemed pleased to hear from him; more than pleased, she sounded excited. Decembrius had fine cheekbones, deep blue eyes, interesting hair, a slender and powerful physique, and his werewolf nature lent something extra to his aura. Decembrius had made no particular effort to impress her, but she was impressed anyway. He knew he didn’t normally have to try very hard. Perhaps that was one reason he felt so depressed about Kalix. Now, when he did have to try, he’d failed.

  He arranged to meet Elizabeth in the same pub and ended the call.

  * * *

  As soon as he arrived, Decembrius knew he’d made a mistake. Though she was pretty enough, they had nothing in common. He regretted making the arrangement. A certain gallantry on his part prevented him from allowing her to see he wasn’t keen, and they left the bar together some time before it closed.

  Decembrius lived in an old Victorian villa. Like many of the houses in the side streets of Camden, it had long ago been divided up into small apartments. As Decembrius approached the front door, he was shocked to find Kalix there. It was difficult to get used to a werewolf who didn’t have any scent. There was no light outside the door, and for a moment they stared at each other in darkness. Kalix turned her head to Elizabeth and bared her teeth.

  “Go away,” she said.

  “Who’s she?” demanded Elizabeth. “Your girlfriend?”

  “No,” replied Decembrius. He wasn’t displeased to see Kalix, but he didn’t like her ordering his companion around. Kalix took a step towards Elizabeth, and Decembrius saw the look of utter fury on her face. She looked like a girl who was going to explode into violence any second.

  “I think you’d better go,” said Decembrius to Elizabeth, apologetically. “I’ll call you.”

  “Don’t bother,” said Elizabeth, and walked off.

  Decembrius frowned at Kalix. He could smell blood when he knew he shouldn’t be able to. He glanced down. There was a trickle of red coming out from under the sleeve of Kalix’s coat.

  “What’s that?”

  “Never you mind,” said Kalix. She had an open wound on her arm, the result of past cuts she’d inflicted on herself now reopened through scratching. She could smell the blood too. She liked that.

  “Thanks for spoiling my date. What’s the matter? Jealous?” Decembrius’s attempted lightness of tone was wasted on Kalix.

  “You’ve been working for the Douglas-MacPhees. You’re helping them find me.”

  Sensing that Kalix was about to transform, Decembrius hurried to put his key in the lock. “I’m not helping them find you.” He opened the door and walked swiftly inside, followed by Kalix.

  Kalix transformed. Though they were now indoors, it was still risky. The villa held eight apartments. Many of the tenants would arrive home around this time. Decembrius had no choice but to lead Kalix upstairs to his own small flat.

  “Want a drink?”

  Kalix dashed the glass from his hand, and it shattered against the wall. Her jaws opened wide, and at that moment, Decembrius remembered Thrix’s warning. “Kalix will kill you.” It seemed like she might already be about to try. Decembrius transformed, taking on his dark red werewolf shape, and prepared to defend himself. “I helped the Douglas-MacPhees sell some things to the merchant, that’s all.”

  Kalix seemed certain that Decembrius intended to betray her. “I heard them say you’d find me.”

  “I never agreed to that.”

  A rather maniacal light shone in Kalix’s eyes. “I’d like them to find me. At night, when I can change. Then I’ll kill them all. But I’ll kill you first.”

  “I’ll kill you if you don’t stop accusing me,” said Decembrius, his voice raising. He wasn’t noted for his patience, and now, in werewolf form, he wasn’t quite so inclined to be kind to Kalix. “I’ve been trying to protect you. The Douglas-MacPhees have been talking to Morag and Marwanis. They’re all looking for you.”

  “Good,” said Kalix. “I’m looking for them too. Where can I find them?”

  “They’re meeting at the hotel in Church Street. Morag’s got a room there. They asked me to go, but I’ve finished working with them.”

  “Liar,” growled Kalix. “Everyone in the clan knows you’re a liar.”

  Kalix stepped forward and swung her taloned paw hard and fast. Decembrius didn’t see it coming. It smashed into the larger werewolf’s cheekbone, sending him crashing to the floor. Decembrius rose, howling with rage, and prepared to throw himself at Kalix. At that moment, there was a furious banging on the door.

  “Keep the noise down! I’ve warned you before.”

  Decembrius paused, looking uncomfortable. “Mrs. Morrison, from upstairs. She has to get up for work early in the morning.”

  Kalix growled in fury.

  “And stop that growling!” shouted Mrs. Morrison.

  The unexpected interruption seemed to shake Kalix back towards rationality. She closed her jaws, though she still stared at Decembrius with loathing.

  “I really wasn’t trying to betray you, Kalix. I just needed some money. It was either work for the Douglas-MacPhees or go back to the castle. I won’t meet them again. You should stay away from them too.”

  “I’m going to their meeting,” snarled Kalix. “I want to talk to Duncan. Morag and Marwanis as well.”

  “Why?”

  “To see what they know about Gawain.”

  “They’ll try to take you back to Scotland. If they don’t just kill you first.”

  Kalix laughed. “That won’t happen.”

  “You can’t go to that meeting. It’s—”

  Kalix was no longer listening. She moved towards the door, transforming on the way, and left without another word.

  Decembrius followed after her and had a brief glimpse of his disapproving upstairs neighbor in the hallway before he slammed the door in frustration and sat down heavily on the one armchair in the room. He felt angry at Kalix and at himself and at the Douglas-MacPhees. How could Kalix have imagined he’d sell information about her? But perhaps it wasn’t such a strange thing for her to think. He’d known all along that Kalix would take it badly if she were to learn that he’d been working with them.

  Decembrius’s anger faded into depression and suddenly a shaft of worry shot through him. Kalix wouldn’t really go to the meeting, would she? She surely couldn’t be mad enough to walk into a roomful of her enemies on the night of the lunar eclipse?

  Without warning, Decembrius found himself plunged into one of the strongest and most terrifying visions of the future he’d ever experienced. He saw the bodies of Kalix, Dominil, and Thrix lying dead on the grass, with tendrils of fog trailing around their bodies. There was blood on the grass, and the smell of it was all around. Such was the strength of the vision that Decembrius for a moment believed himself to be there, and he looked around savagely for the assailants. When he looked back, he saw his own body on top of the pile, and though this was terrifying too, it reminded him that it was some sort of vision, and not reality. He backed away, shaking his head to clear it, but before he could banish the vision, he was overcome by darkness as his consciousness faded, and he collapsed to the floor.

  Chapter 72

  As the afternoon turned into evening, Castle MacRinnalch was home to many unhappy werewolves. Few ventured outside to see the endless gray clouds that stretched from horizon to horizon, and the courtyard, normally alive with the raucous laughter of werewolf children, was uncommonly quiet. In her chambers, the Mistress of the Werewolves tried to concentrate on a magazine, but dropped it with a sigh.

&nbs
p; “I’m almost two hundred and fifty years old,” she mused. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

  A lunar eclipse never passed easily. It was a profoundly depressing experience for werewolves. As the Earth’s shadow hid the moon, even the most pureblooded were unable to transform. It brought on feelings of emptiness and despair that were almost impossible to alleviate. There was nothing to do but wait it out. The MacRinnalchs could feel the eclipse approaching, and in the hours preceding the event, a great sadness descended on their homelands. From the barons’ keeps to Castle MacRinnalch, and in the farmhouses and dwellings in between, the Scottish werewolves sat indoors, some with their loved ones, but many of them alone, waiting for it to pass.

  * * *

  Markus sat in his chamber, wrapped in the scarlet cloak that had belonged to the wife of Thane Murdo centuries ago. The garment brought him some comfort, but not enough. All of Markus’s problems rose to the surface, and he felt bored and frustrated with life. He spent most of his nights with Beatrice MacRinnalch, the assistant curator of the castle relics, who was a pleasant enough werewolf but not really sparkling company. Markus had had many girlfriends and lovers, mainly in London, away from the prying eyes of his family, and had finally fallen in love with Talixia. She’d been killed in the feud, and he still missed her. Were his life different, Markus would have relieved his boredom by taking more lovers—with his extraordinary looks, women had always thrown themselves at him—but that wasn’t easy in the castle. Now he was Thane, he was expected to behave in a sober fashion. Neither his mother nor the Great Council would approve of him philandering.

  He faced almost the same problem with clothes. Markus had long held a liking for female attire. That hadn’t been too hard to accommodate while he was free to go where he pleased. Here in the castle, it was more difficult. Though he’d shared his secret with a few women in his life, he didn’t think that Beatrice would take the information well, and he couldn’t risk the news becoming known in the clan. The MacRinnalch werewolves may well have caught up with the modern world in some respects, but Markus wasn’t under any illusion that they were prepared to accept a Thane who dressed in women’s clothes.

  “They’d probably throw me off the walls,” he thought, feeling even more depressed. He sipped from a glass of wine and wished the eclipse was over.

  * * *

  In London the werewolves weren’t faring any better. Beauty and Delicious attempted to drink themselves through the crisis, but despite their boasting to Dominil, the eclipse affected them as much as everyone else. As it approached, their normally raucous conversation became more subdued. They found themselves sitting in front of the TV, watching music stations, unable to find anything they liked, too gloomy even to hurl abuse at the screen. They eventually put on an old DVD of Joy Division playing one of their early gigs and sat miserably in front of it, feeling that the tortured lyrics suited their mood.

  “Shame he killed himself,” muttered Beauty, drinking deeply from a bottle of whisky as a closeup of Ian Curtis filled the screen.

  “Doesn’t seem like such a bad idea at the moment,” muttered Delicious. “I hate these eclipses. Pass me the bottle.”

  * * *

  Dominil had purposely stayed away from the twins, knowing that if she encountered them during the eclipse, she’d probably be moved to attack them. She tried to ward off the malevolent effects of the disappearing moon by force of her willpower alone, telling herself that she just had to keep working and it would pass, but it was difficult. As the moon began to disappear, even her iron willpower sagged. For a moment she was overwhelmed with feelings of loss and sadness. Her mind was flooded with memories of past lovers and past disappointments. The unbreachable wall she’d erected, which had always protected her from the scorn directed at her because of her strangeness, began to crumble. For a few minutes, she felt something not far from despair about being so different from everybody else. She gritted her teeth then returned to her computer with a determined air and tried to carry on with her work.

  * * *

  At her office, Thrix was even more irritable than usual. She was forced to apologize to Ann after quite unjustifiably blaming her for losing a contract.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” said Thrix. “And I shouldn’t have thrown the stapler.”

  “It’s okay. It’s only a small bruise.”

  “I feel terrible. I shouldn’t have come into work today. Why did I?”

  “I think your exact words were ‘the eclipse doesn’t bother me, I’m not like other werewolves, I’m a sorceress, I can handle it easily.’”

  “Did I really say that? I’m a fool.” Thrix stared glumly at her computer, sighed deeply, and put it to sleep. “What’s the point in working? I’ll never sell any clothes. No one will ever review my clothes. They’re not worth reviewing anyway. I’ve never designed anything that was any good. I’ve got to get out of the fashion business, I’m hopeless at it.”

  “Does this eclipse last long?” asked Ann, alarmed by Thrix’s abrupt descent into misery.

  “Only a few hours. But we can feel it coming on. I should go home.”

  “You can’t. You have a date.”

  “How can I have a date? Werewolves don’t go out on dates when there’s a lunar eclipse.”

  “Your exact words were ‘Of course I can go out with Easterly, I’m a sorceress, the eclipse won’t bother me.’”

  Thrix rested her head on her desk and groaned.

  “I’ll get you some coffee,” said Ann kindly.

  Chapter 73

  Further west in London, Morag MacAllister, a fiery character at the best of times, was berating Marwanis MacRinnalch for organizing a meeting today of all days.

  “What kind of werewolf makes an arrangement to meet on the night of the lunar eclipse? I’m liable to bite someone’s head off.”

  “Not when you’re in human shape, I hope,” said Marwanis. “It’s the only evening I could get free when the Douglas-MacPhees could meet. They’re a busy little group.”

  “Busy stealing no doubt,” said Morag. “I hate the Douglas-MacPhees.”

  “You won’t hate them if they bring us Kalix.”

  “Maybe not. Is Ruraich MacAndris coming too?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hate him as well.”

  Marwanis almost smiled. Baron MacAllister’s sister was hardly diplomatic. But then, Marwanis didn’t care that much for Red Ruraich herself. He was always insinuating that as leader of the MacAndris Clan, he should be a baron too, with a seat on the Great Council.

  * * *

  Night was falling as Red Ruraich arrived at the hotel. He strode in, slammed the door, and immediately changed into his werewolf shape.

  “Who’s idea was it to meet tonight?” he growled.

  “Mine,” replied Marwanis, and she changed into a werewolf. They glared at each other. Morag MacAllister, not liking being the only human in the room, changed as well. The three ill-tempered werewolves stared at each other. Even in werewolf shape, they could feel their powers draining away as the Earth’s shadow came near to covering the moon. Finally Marwanis laughed, rather grimly, and changed back. “Just put up with it for a few hours. It will soon be over.”

  “I never get used to it,” said Ruraich, harshly. “No werewolf feels right when the moon’s under attack. I feel like something’s gnawing my bones.”

  Morag and Marwanis both sat down. Ruraich was right. No werewolf felt right at the time of the eclipse, and they shivered at its onset.

  * * *

  Not far away, Kalix MacRinnalch was stepping off the tube. She was completely oblivious to the onrushing eclipse and had no idea it was about to happen. The waves of depression and fatigue affecting her kin failed to make an impression on her. She always felt badly anyway and didn’t notice any difference.

  She marched out of the station and hurried through the darkening streets. Kalix was eager to confront Morag, Marwanis, and anyone else who was there. She’d mo
st likely be heavily outnumbered, but she didn’t care. As a werewolf, Kalix feared nobody, and she planned to burst into the hotel room, take on her werewolf shape, and start demanding answers about Gawain. If no answers were forthcoming, she’d savage them all until they felt like talking.

  Chapter 74

  The Fire Queen materialized in the enchantress’s office with a flash of light that was far too bright for Thrix’s liking.

  “No need to stare at me in such a manner, dearest Enchantress. I am aware that it is the time of the lunar eclipse. Distikka marked it in my diary. I now carry my diary everywhere, in my splendid Abukenti bag.” Malveria paused to admire her bag once more. “So I’ve come to bring you good cheer, while the moon hides its face, casting you into unbearable gloom. Is it unbearable?”

  “It’s getting there,” growled Thrix.

  “How fortunate I have arrived! I have come hither—is hither the correct word?”

  “I expect so,” grunted Thrix.

  “Then I have come hither from the home of Moonglow, where I was checking on the progress of my nefarious niece. Agrivex was late arriving back in our realm, thereby exposing herself to the risk of sudden death. She lacks the power to remain on Earth for more than a few days at a time.” Malveria paused, not looking too displeased at the notion of Vex meeting sudden death. “I suspected she may be hiding from me, but it turns out Agrivex is simply resting a sore foot, after a bad bouncy-castle accident.”

  “Pardon?”

  “An accident sustained while playing on a bouncy castle, according to Daniel. Though I’m not certain what a bouncy castle is. I have several castles, but none of them are bouncy. It’s hard to see the advantage of it.”

  Thrix explained that a bouncy castle was a sort of children’s amusement, a large inflatable toy for children to play on.

  “That would explain it. Unless Agrivex is using this bouncy castle story merely as a way of avoiding me?”