Curse of the Wolf Girl

by Martin Millar

  The old Thane had been a huge werewolf. Even late in life, his strength had been immense. Not even Sarapen had surpassed him. No one had harmed him in battle until the thin, scrawny, and insane Kalix took it upon herself to hurl herself at him at the top of the main staircase in Castle MacRinnalch, fixing her jaws around his throat and dragging him down. He’d never recovered from the wounds she inflicted.

  Kalix looked up at the tall figure of her father and remembered that, while she’d lived at the castle, she could never recall a single kind word from him, but she could remember many, many bad things.

  “You are a piece of filth,” said her father.

  “I know,” said Kalix.

  “You weren’t fit to live, and you’re not fit for the Forests. The clan was cursed the day you were born.”

  “Let me past.”

  “Never. You died, and I’ll kill you again, right here.”

  “I didn’t die, and you won’t kill me.” Kalix laid Thrix down on the wet grass and prepared to defend herself, but as she did so, lightning flashed overhead, and her father seemed to flicker, as if he was an apparition rather than solid. Kalix waited, but no attack came. “I don’t think you’re even really here.”

  Kalix hauled Thrix over her shoulder again and pushed past her father, though in the growing storm, with the wind now buffeting her, she couldn’t tell if he was real or not. But she could feel his hatred quite distinctly and the hatred of the other werewolves she’d met, the ones she’d killed and those slain by the enchantress, their malice reaching out and clutching out at them, trying to drag them back.

  “If this is really the Forests of the Werewolf Dead,” thought Kalix. “I hope there are some nicer parts.”

  She struggled on, now up to her ankles in mud, with the dead weight of her sister dragging her down, the wind and rain pulling at her ragged coat, and the dreadful malevolence of her enemies threatening to crush her completely. Her ever-present feeling of self-loathing became so intense that it seemed to solidify and hover around her head in an ugly black cloud, thick and cloying.

  “I refuse to give up,” she said out loud then felt foolish for saying it but struggled on anyway. She lifted her head. In front of her, the patch of blue sky was visible again. If she could just reach it, she could leave this place, which she had to, because she had things to do, though at this moment, Kalix couldn’t remember what they were.

  Chapter 135

  Kalix struggled towards the sliver of blue sky, half-dragging and half-carrying Thrix. She could still hear the voices of the werewolves behind her, some threatening, some imploring her to stay, but she ignored them all. When she finally reached the slender rays of sunlight that penetrated the gloom, she felt a tinge of warmth enter her body. Kalix and Thrix immediately tumbled back into the real world, sprawling heavily on the floor of the boiler room, where Kalix lay gasping from her exertions. She’d hauled herself and her sister back from the netherworld.

  There was no sign of the Douglas-MacPhees. Thrix coughed heavily and woke up. “What happened?”

  “Your stupid spell took us to the Forests of the Werewolf Dead, that’s what happened. And you were no help when we got there.” Kalix rose to her feet and winced with pain. She ached everywhere and struggled to control her nausea. She was wet and filthy. She attempted to dust herself off but gave it up as hopeless.

  Thrix rose to her feet, quite lithely. Having been unconscious throughout most of the ordeal, she didn’t seem as badly affected as Kalix. “Was that really the Forests? I’m not certain.”

  “Wherever it was, I don’t want to go back. Next time you’re going to rescue me, don’t bother.”

  “Don’t bother? If I hadn’t bothered, the Douglas-MacPhees would have killed you by now. You weren’t going to beat those three in human shape.”

  “You took me somewhere I had to meet my father and Gawain!” screamed Kalix. “You hear that? Our father! And Gawain! And I still want to know who killed him.”

  Kalix put her face as close as she could to her sister’s, though she was several inches shorter than Thrix. “Who killed Gawain?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re lying. Gawain said you knew.”

  “Gawain?”

  “He was in the Forests.”

  Thrix shook her head. “I think that was an illusion.”

  “You’re lying anyway. You know who killed him.”

  They regarded each other with stony dislike. Thrix wondered if she was going to have to defend herself. “Don’t you have an assignment?”

  Kalix growled. She’d almost forgotten about her assignment. She picked up her bag and hurried from the boiler room, up the stairs into the corridor, and along to her tutor’s room. She was still shivering as she passed a few other students in the corridor.

  “It’s not fair,” she thought. “They only had to get on a bus to hand in their assignments. I had to fight my way out of the Forests of the Werewolf Dead.”

  Chapter 136

  The Fire Queen prepared herself with the greatest of care, calling on her full complement of dressers, makeup artists, and hairstylists. This evening she was due to attend the reception organized by the Mistress of the Werewolves to welcome Felicori to Edinburgh, and she intended to dazzle from the outset.

  “I owe it to Mr. Felicori to look my best,” she explained to her assembled staff. “He’s about to visit Scotland for the first time, and I do not want him to suffer from shock. The kindest critic could not call it a civilized nation. When one considers that, as well as local dignitaries, there will be several werewolves in attendance, one can see the need to take precautions. One does not expect the MacRinnalchs to turn up in kilts and start eating people, but you can never be sure.”

  “Does Mr. Felicori know Verasa MacRinnalch is a werewolf?” asked Iskiline, the Fire Queen’s chief dresser. Like all of the queen’s attendants, Iskiline had only the vaguest notion of life on Earth.

  “No, Verasa will never be discovered as a werewolf. She is too controlled a woman. But as for some of her clan…” Malveria glanced at the attendant who was adjusting the hem of her evening dress and raised a cautionary finger. “Careful,” she said. “It may not be safe to expose too much flesh. The Scots are a pale-skinned people as a rule, with a sickly hue. Too much exposure to the warm and resplendent coffee-tones of Queen Malveria may drive them into a frenzy.”

  Malveria’s evening dress, in pale gray, had been designed by the enchantress and had succeeded in satisfying her desire for something both conservative and alluring. She put on her shoes, adopted a suitable expression, and looked at herself in the mirror. She smiled. “I do look splendid as the refined woman of culture. Thoughtful and intelligent, yet with hidden fire? Do I have hidden fire?”

  “You are full of hidden fire,” Iskiline assured her.

  “Like a queen who, after listening to the opera in a refined manner, may yet privately indulge in the broad pleasure of the boudoir?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Good. One does not like to be thought of as incapable of enjoyment. Bring me my wrap. Not the dragon scale—dragons are extinct on Earth, and it may cause comment.”

  Distikka arrived as Malveria was about to depart. Though the Fire Queen was pleased to see her, her attendants were not. The queen’s dressers always had the impression that Distikka regarded them as frivolous.

  “Distikka! Are you ready to assume the reins of command while I attend this important function? Splendid. Now stand back, my journey to Edinburgh will take concentration. I do not want to materialize in the wrong place. If I miss my destination, I may end up in some wretched fishing village with rain pouring from the sky.”

  Her attendants murmured in alarm at the thought of the Fire Queen being rained on, but Malveria reassured them. “There is no need to worry. I have the power to withstand falling water. But my evening dress may suffer. Farewell, Distikka, and make sure you look after things properly. Don’t let the council bully you into any unwise
decisions.”

  Malveria floated down through the dimensions. She located the hotel in which Felicori’s reception was taking place and was just about to materialize when, to her great displeasure, she almost collided with Princess Kabachetka.

  “Kabachetka! What are you doing here?”

  “Welcoming Mr. Felicori to Edinburgh, of course.”

  “Preposterous. He does not want to be welcomed by you. You will more likely frighten him away.”

  “It’s fortunate that I’m here,” countered the princess. “One look at your ill-fitting gown may divert him so badly he can no longer sing.”

  “You dare call my gown ill fitting?” roared Malveria. “This gown was designed by the peerless Thrix MacRinnalch. A shame you have not yet found a designer to match.”

  “I believe she’s overrated,” sniffed the princess.

  Malveria laughed lightly. She knew Kabachetka was jealous of Thrix’s designs. “Felicori will not welcome your presence,” she scoffed. “He’s a man of culture.”

  “I have an abundance of culture.”

  “Please. The Hainusta don’t appreciate the opera, they’re too busy throwing sacrifices into that little volcano of theirs to try and keep it alight.”

  “What?” The princess was outraged. “You dare insult our volcano? Our volcano is better than yours.”

  “Pah. Your puny pile of ash is no match for the Great Volcano of the Hiyasta.”

  “There is nothing great about that little candle. I hear it goes out at night and has to be relit with matches.”

  It was Malveria’s turn to be outraged. “The Great Volcano never goes out. That’s why it’s called great.”

  “Well, ours is called the Eternal Volcano. Eternal is better than great.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Just because the Hainusta call it the Eternal Volcano doesn’t mean it’s anything special. A slightly warm hill might be a more accurate description. With gentle slopes where children play. Compared to the raging inferno of the Great Volcano, the so-called Eternal Volcano is a mere pimple.”

  “The Fire Queen would have more experience of pimples than I,” sniffed the princess. “One understands her skin-care requirements grow more extensive as she ages.”

  “Skin care? There is no skin care in Malveria’s palace. The Fire Queen is renowned for her natural beauty. Something you might reflect on next time you ladle bleach onto your vulgar brassy tresses.”

  “I am a natural blond!” exploded Kabachetka.

  “Pah. Your dark roots say otherwise.”

  “Our volcano is better than yours.”

  Princess Kabachetka and the Fire Queen suddenly found themselves materializing in a corner of the hotel foyer and rapidly adjusted their manner to suit the surroundings.

  “I am here to attend the reception for Mr. Felicori.”

  “I am also here to attend the reception for Mr. Felicori.”

  “Are you together?” asked the receptionist.

  “Certainly not,” they replied in unison.

  The queen and the princess took a step away from each other and did their best to pretend they’d never met before. The receptionist was unperturbed. He’d already welcomed a host of people from the opera world into the hotel and had grown used to their eccentricities. He led Queen Malveria and Princess Kabachetka into the reception room, where both made ready to spring on Mr. Felicori at the earliest opportunity.

  Chapter 137

  Moonglow was on the phone to her friend Alicia. “Well, Daniel isn’t really exciting. But I like him. He’s nice. You know, he came in last night with the shopping done exactly right, even the correct brands, and I gave him a big list, including shampoo and tampons.”

  “I wouldn’t really have expected Daniel to be so organized.”

  “Me neither. But he has expertise in shopping for women. He once looked after both his sisters and his mother while they were ill when he was still at school.” Moonglow had always felt rather kindly towards Daniel for that.

  The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of Kalix and Vex, back from college.

  “We gave our talks for our assignments,” said Vex, loudly.

  Moonglow ended her phone call. “How did it go?”

  “Fantastic! I sung the theme song and then showed pictures on the computer screen and told everybody about Tokyo Top Pop Boom-Boom Girl and everyone was really interested! The teacher thought it was great too!”

  For once, Moonglow had no trouble believing Vex. The amount of work she’d put into her assignment had been impressive. Daniel’s computer expertise had been marshaled into producing words, music, and pictures, one of which Vex had even had transferred onto a T-shirt, something that Moonglow wouldn’t have thought she was capable of doing. Moonglow had no doubt that Vex’s overwhelming enthusiasm for the subject would have carried her through successfully.

  “They said it was one of the best assignments ever!”

  Moonglow looked towards Kalix, afraid to ask how her presentation had gone.

  “Kalix was a big success too!” said Vex, saving Moonglow the trouble.

  Daniel appeared in the room.

  “Vex was telling me about her presentation,” Moonglow told him.

  “It was fantastic! And so was Kalix! You should have heard her talk about the comics. The class was amazed.” Vex paused. “After they got over all the mud and stuff. Why were you covered in mud when you arrived?”

  “No reason,” muttered Kalix.

  “Did your presentation really go well?”

  Kalix nodded. It had. While not quite as comprehensive a treatment as Vex’s, she’d still put a lot of work into it. She’d held the class’s interest with her impassioned denouncement of Curse of the Wolf Girl. When the class applauded at the end, Kalix, for the first time ever, felt it wasn’t so bad being at college.

  She looked down at the bundle of comics she carried in a plastic bag. “Now I never have to read these comics again.” She paused. “Except I’ve got eleven out of twelve. I’d like to know what happened in the last one. Something stupid, no doubt.”

  Kalix looked towards Daniel. Daniel had signed up at the comic shop’s website, requesting an alert if the missing issue of Curse of the Wolf Girl arrived in stock.

  “I’ll let you know if they get it in,” promised Daniel.

  “Do you want to hear my Tokyo Top Pop Boom-Boom Girl poem?” cried Vex.

  “We’ve already—”

  “If I was friends with Tokyo Top Pop Boom-Boom Girl

  I’d ask her for help against my aunt, the evil Fire Queen.

  We’d storm the palace

  Then we’d go to see Yum Yum Sugary Snacks

  The werewolf band

  Who are the best thing ever.”

  “You know, seriously,” whispered Moonglow to Daniel. “I’m starting to like her poetry.” Moonglow headed for the kitchen to make tea.

  Vex beamed at Daniel. “It’s been a good day all around. Me and Kalix have a big triumph at college, and Moonglow likes you.”

  “What?”

  “She said she likes you. We heard her on the phone when we were coming upstairs.”

  “Tell me her exact words,” said Daniel, eagerly.

  “She said you were nice.”

  Daniel’s face fell. “She said I was nice?”

  “Isn’t that good?”

  “No one wants a boyfriend who’s nice. You need to be exciting.”

  Vex looked confused. She’d expected Daniel to be pleased. “I think she said you were competent as well.”

  Daniel groaned. “That’s even worse. I’ve no chance of ever going out with her.” He slumped onto the couch. “I should be exciting. Now Moonglow is laughing at me for being nice and competent.”

  Neither Kalix nor Vex were convinced that Moonglow was doing anything of the sort, but the conversation came to an abrupt end when Moonglow arrived back in the room with her tea tray.


  * * *

  Later that night, in bed with the cat lying next to her, Kalix’s sharp, wolfish ears picked up the sound of Daniel in his room, playing We Slaughtered Them and Laughed quietly to himself. It was a sign that he was depressed, and she felt quite sad about his hopeless passion for Moonglow.

  Chapter 138

  Is there any point asking you again not to go to Edinburgh?” asked Captain Easterly.

  “No,” replied Albermarle.

  “Dominil will kill you.”

  “Dominil’s on the run. I’ve got her baffled and confused.”

  “So you keep saying.”

  “Because it’s true.” Satisfaction showed on Albermarle’s face. “She can’t make a phone call without me listening in. I know every move she makes. What are you complaining about anyway? Thanks to me, we’ve been tracking Thrix as well.”

  It was true. Albermarle’s technical skills had enabled both himself and Easterly to track their targets. Listening to private phone calls, they’d gathered a host of information about the werewolves’ movements.

  “I never said you weren’t good at intelligence work. That doesn’t mean you should chase after Dominil in Edinburgh. Leave it to me; I’ll take care of her after I’ve dealt with Thrix.”

  “Stop butting in, Easterly. Isn’t it enough that people are always going on about what a great hunter you are? You’re not stealing the credit for hunting Dominil.”

  Easterly was exasperated. His cousin’s jealousy of his position in the guild seemed to be getting worse. “I’m not interested in stealing anyone’s credit. I’m interested in hunting werewolves.”

  “Hunting? Is that what you call it?”

  Easterly tensed. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, for a man who’s hunting a werewolf, you’ve certainly bought Thrix a lot of nice presents.”

  “That’s part of the plan.”