The Curse of the Wolf Girl

by Martin Millar

“Take this,” said Cameron, desperate for Kalix to leave. He thrust the metal box containing his takings towards her. Kalix scooped up some notes, stuffed them into her pockets, and ran back up the stairs, her hair and coat flying behind her. Behind her, Cameron MacRinnalch shuddered. He regretted putting on the gig. Yum Yum Sugary Snacks was terrible, and Kalix was worse. The encounter left him shaken. He’d never met a werewolf like Kalix before. She wasn’t civilized. She was violent and insane. Yum Yum Sugary Snacks came to a grinding halt midway through a song. There was a terrible cacophony of jeers, screams, and feedback. Cameron shuddered again. Perhaps he should forget about promoting music and just concentrate on his studies.

  Chapter 164

  Please leave this dressing room,” demanded the Mistress of the Werewolves. “Mr. Felicori is late on stage.”

  The Fire Queen regarded Verasa with dislike. She resented anyone ordering her about. Nonetheless, realizing that this was not the best place for an argument, she withdrew as gracefully as she could.

  “I knew it was a mistake to attend this event,” she muttered as she left. “I shouldn’t have let the Mistress of the Werewolves talk me into it. The MacRinnalchs cannot be trusted to behave in a civilized manner. And what are you doing in my presence, Kabachetka?”

  “Assisting you to walk straight. How much champagne did you consume?”

  Malveria eyed her with loathing. “You may have defeated me in the matter of shoes, but that does not disguise your—” She halted. She couldn’t think of a suitable insult. The shoe upset and the champagne seemed to have erased her imagination. She scowled and made to depart.

  Behind her, the princess steeled herself and almost lost her nerve. If she didn’t get this part right, the whole plan would fail, and disaster would follow. Princess Kabachetka sent all her power into her aura, rendering it impossible to read, or so she hoped. The Queen of the Hiyasta had great powers when it came to interpreting auras. “On the other hand,” thought the princess, “she is full of champagne and disappointment. It’s now or never.” She reached forward, lightly tapping the Fire Queen on the shoulder.

  Malveria spun around. “What do you want, vile Princess?”

  “To say goodbye.”

  Malveria’s expression brightened. “Are you leaving?”

  “No. But you are. Leaving your throne, that is.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Distikka is at this moment taking over your realm. She belongs to the royal blood, being the granddaughter of your forgotten brother Gravan. She can control the volcano and will be in charge by the time you arrive back.”

  If the princess expected the Fire Queen to leap in alarm, she was disappointed. Malveria merely narrowed her eyes and studied the princess very closely. “What is this nonsense?”

  “It’s not nonsense. No doubt you can tell from my aura I’m telling the truth.”

  “I can tell from your aura you’re using all your power to prevent it from being read.”

  “I’m also telling the truth. Distikka is your relative. She claims power over the volcano and the throne. By the time you get home, she’ll be Queen.”

  Malveria put her face close to her rival’s, scanning it. “Why would you tell me this?”

  “To laugh at you before you die.”

  Malveria stepped back, snapped her fingers, and dematerialized. The princess smiled and walked back into the main hall where Felicori was now in full song, the glory of his opening aria making the audience forget that they’d had to wait.

  “Goodbye Malveria,” muttered the princess. “By the time you make it through the barrier I’ve set up, Distikka really will be in control. And now, Enchantress, while the queen is away, it’s time to deal with you.”

  It bothered the princess that, in this realm, the enchantress was probably her equal in power. Thrix was undoubtedly prepared for any piece of Hainusta sorcery, at least any piece that could be brought to Earth.

  “But you are not prepared for the sorcery of your old teacher, are you?” she muttered beneath her breath as she slipped back into the main auditorium. Minerva MacRinnalch’s work was fascinating. Particularly her spell for producing a false eclipse of the moon.

  At the far end of the hall, the princess saw Markus MacRinnalch leaving the building, apparently in pursuit of some woman.

  “You will suffer too,” thought the princess, maliciously, though she didn’t really care about Markus. Thrix and Kalix were her main targets.

  The princess muttered a short sentence, speaking Minerva’s spell.

  “The werewolves may find it much more painful than a normal eclipse, being unnatural, and wrenched through the fabric of time, as it were. Now I really must sit down. Mr. Felicori seems to be in excellent form.” The princess made her way to her seat, apologizing sweetly to the people she disturbed on the way.

  * * *

  The enchantress was relieved when Felicori finally appeared on the stage. After the effort her mother had put into the event, she deserved success. “If it goes well, she might not notice when I don’t turn up to the next council meeting.”

  Captain Easterly slid his hand into hers, and they sat contentedly together, a couple who, while not exactly fans of the opera, were happy to be there together. Suddenly Thrix’s senses felt a tiny prickle of apprehension, followed immediately by a great wave of nausea. She struggled to remain upright in her seat. The nausea was overwhelming, and she fought to avoid throwing up over her evening dress. Thrix’s head swam. The pleasant haze brought on by Easterly’s company, the warmth in the room, and the champagne turned into a thick, dense fog that clouded her senses and made it difficult to even think. Thrix suddenly put her hand to her mouth and lurched forward.

  “What’s the matter?” whispered Easterly.

  “I’m going to be sick.”

  Easterly didn’t hesitate. Showing no self-consciousness about making a fuss in front of the audience, he rose, took Thrix’s arm, helped her to her feet, then unapologetically pushed past the rows of seated people, taking Thrix with him.

  “Take me outside, I need air.”

  Easterly guided Thrix out.

  “Oh God,” she thought, blearily. “Everyone will think I’m drunk.”

  As Thrix and Easterly reached the door, Felicori soared to the conclusion of a piece from Aida. The audience burst into applause, and he bowed in the spotlight. Easterly supported Thrix as they made their way through the door that led to the gardens of Andamair House. Outside a heavy fog was swirling around the grounds.

  “Take me where no one can see. There’s a maze on the other side of the lawn.”

  Easterly hadn’t asked what was the matter. Thrix thought that was gallant of him, given that the only credible explanation was that she’d drunk too much.

  “No one can see us here,” said Easterly, leading her to the edge of the maze and then a few yards inside. “Do you want to sit down?”

  Chapter 165

  Decembrius hurried down the stairs into the cellar. From within the room below came an odd noise, a mixture of guitars, screams, and breaking furniture. At the foot of the stairs, he met Cameron MacRinnalch, whom he didn’t know but sensed immediately was a werewolf.

  Cameron was aghast as Decembrius approached. Normally he’d have been pleased to welcome any fellow werewolf into the venue, particularly one with red hair, a leather coat, and multiple earrings. But Decembrius had a livid bruise on his cheek and several deep scratches on his face. Decembrius had regained his vitality, but his injuries would take longer to heal. “Is Dominil MacRinnalch here?”

  “She left. Went to the opera.”

  “Has Kalix been here?”

  Cameron nodded. “She left too.”

  Decembrius glanced towards the door. “What’s that racket?”

  “I think the twins might be fighting with the audience.”

  Decembrius grunted and hurried back up the stairs. His car was double-parked, and as he arrived, several drivers were gathering around in the narrow street,
wondering who was responsible for the obstruction. Decembrius brushed them out of the way without a word and set off towards Andamair House.

  Seconds after he’d gone, Vex popped into sight on the street. She looked around her, smiled with satisfaction, and trotted down the stairs.

  “I finally got here. You’re a werewolf, right?”

  Cameron regarded her suspiciously. As this latest visitor wasn’t a werewolf, there seemed no reason why she should have recognized him as one. “Who are you?”

  “Vex. I’m a Fire Elemental.”

  “I’ve never heard of Fire Elementals.”

  “Oh…Well, here I am. Is Kalix here?”

  Cameron shook his head wearily. He longed to be back in his halls of residence, studying quietly. There was the sound of breaking glass, then a guitar started up, and Yum Yum Sugary Snacks lurched into a frantic version of “Yum Yum Cute Boys,” another crowd pleaser. Judging by the accompanying noise from the audience, it appeared that half of them was enjoying the performance and the other half was rioting.

  “I want to see the band!” cried Vex, and clenched her fists in frustration. “Can’t see the band. Have to find Kalix. Where is she?”

  “She went to the opera. With everyone else.”

  Vex held out her map. “Could you show me where it is?”

  Cameron looked at Vex’s map, which had a section showing Edinburgh City Center. Unfortunately, it didn’t extend quite far enough outside the city to show the precise location of Andamair House. “It’s just a bit further than the last page. By the time you get there, you’ll probably be able to see it.”

  “Okay.”

  Vex leaned forward and kissed Cameron on the forehead.

  He looked surprised. “Why did you do that?”

  “I thought you were looking depressed,” said Vex, brightly. “Next time you put on Yum Yum Sugary Snacks, I’ll be here for sure. Bye!” Vex dematerialized.

  Cameron MacRinnalch shrank back in his chair. “And I thought it was strange being a werewolf,” he muttered. “Tonight is really terrible. I wish that awful band would stop playing.”

  Chapter 166

  The maze at Andamair House had hedges that were taller than a man. Once inside, a person was completely hidden from view. Captain Easterly led the enchantress in, as she asked him to.

  Thrix had a fear of showing weakness in public and didn’t want anyone to see her so ill. She regretted at first that Easterly was with her and would rather have suffered alone. But as the freezing tendrils of the cloying fog brushed her skin, and as she felt the reassuring warmth of his body beside hers, she changed her mind and was glad he was with her. Easterly knew her well. If he assumed she’d simply overindulged in alcohol, that wouldn’t be so bad. He wouldn’t be outraged. She felt a moment of extra warmth towards him before almost doubling over with nausea.

  “What is this?” wondered Thrix, desperately. “Illness? Sorcery? It feels like an eclipse, but worse.” She felt too poorly to think clearly and struggled to remain conscious. “I need to sit down.”

  Easterly led Thrix to a solid wooden bench, set back in one of the arbors that were scattered throughout the maze. Since Markus had taken on responsibility for Andamair House, the grounds had been well cared for, and the maze was tall and neatly trimmed. Easterly helped her to sit down. She slumped against him.

  “I’m feeling terrible,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

  Easterly put his arm around her. “You don’t need to apologize.”

  “I think I drank too much.”

  “I don’t think so. It could have been something you ate. I’m not sure all the food in there was well prepared.”

  Thrix appreciated his tact. Again she felt the warmth of his body, and it comforted her. “Thanks for looking after me.”

  She felt Easterly kiss her lightly on the side of her head. A sudden spasm of pain in her abdomen made her wince, and she clung on to her lover more tightly, waiting till it passed. Her forehead was damp with perspiration, and she felt Easterly dab it with a handkerchief. Thrix let her head drop into Easterly’s lap. She felt as helpless as a kitten, defeated by whatever malevolent force was attacking her.

  “And I did drink too much anyway,” she thought, and regretted it. She shivered. Her evening dress wasn’t suitable for outdoor wear, not with the cold fog rolling off the sea.

  “Let me put my jacket around you.” Easterly gently eased himself out of the chair.

  Thrix closed her eyes and felt him place his jacket on her shoulders. “Thank you.”

  The night was still and the sound of Felicori’s voice carried far, his perfect baritone penetrating the walls of Andamair House and spreading over the grounds. The orchestral music floated over the trees and hedges, seeming almost to merge with the haar as it blanketed the area.

  “Thrix,” said Easterly.

  Thrix, prone on the bench, turned her head. “What?”

  “There’s something I should tell you.”

  Thrix managed a weak smile, expecting to hear Easterly tell her he loved her.

  “I’m a werewolf hunter.”

  The enchantress blinked. She tried to move, but another wave of pain racked her body. “You can’t be.”

  There was a click as Easterly took a silver gun from his pocket and flicked the safety catch. When she saw the gun, a tear rolled down the enchantress’s cheek, and she tried to speak but couldn’t.

  Chapter 167

  What’s this?” Duncan glanced round at his sister, surprised at the music that suddenly filled their transit van.

  “‘Celeste Aida.’ Sung by Felicori. I thought we might get a taste of what we’re in for.”

  Duncan laughed. “I don’t think we’ll be hearing much of the opera.”

  The Douglas-MacPhees were some way behind their fellow werewolves in their journey to Edinburgh. They hadn’t intended to go, being generally unwelcome in Scotland, but Marwanis had suggested it, and she was still paying them well.

  “If Decembrius is on his way, he must be chasing Kalix,” she’d said when they’d called her. “You’d better get up here as soon as you can.”

  “We’re not all that welcome in Scotland.”

  “You’re only banished from the MacPhee’s estates. The MacRinnalchs can’t stop you from going to Edinburgh. If you can catch Kalix here, it will be perfect. We’ll drag her back to the castle.”

  The Douglas-MacPhees had set off in their old van.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have beaten up Decembrius,” mused Duncan, “before he told us what he was doing, I mean.”

  “He deserved it anyway,” said William. Neither Duncan nor Rhona disagreed.

  “Celeste Aida, forma divina.”

  “I don’t much care for Felicori’s singing,” stated Duncan.

  “I don’t mind it,” said Rhona. She let the aria finish then clicked the music player to bring on Motörhead. The Douglas-MacPhees all liked Motörhead. “We’re making good time,” she observed. “The van’s holding up well.” Despite the dilapidated appearance of their vehicle, it ran smoothly. Duncan had it serviced regularly, knowing that it never paid to have your transport out of commission. “So are we still supposed to kill Kalix or not?”

  “Kill her, capture her, whatever,” Duncan answered. “Marwanis will still pay us.”

  In the back of the van, William nodded his huge head in time to the music. “We’ve been chasing her a long time. It’s time we cashed in on the deal.”

  Chapter 168

  Dominil, making the logical decision that it would be best to abandon her normal careful driving, made good time from Edinburgh to Andamair House. She’d tried calling both the enchantress and the Mistress of the Werewolves but had been unable to contact either of them. She was, by her standards, very concerned about Albermarle’s message. Thrix was the most powerful werewolf in the clan, but if, as Albermarle claimed, the guild had found some way to remove her powers, she might be vulnerable.

  “But there are other werewolv
es there,” reasoned Dominil. “How could they attack her?” Albermarle was cunning. Perhaps he’d found some way to isolate Thrix. Dominil fretted and wished she could go faster, but the fog was now lying thickly, slowing all traffic.

  The great gate that led into the Andamair estate was manned by attendants. Several of them had worked for the MacRinnalchs before and recognized Dominil. She was waved through without delay and continued on towards the country house. It lay some way down the drive and was blocked from view by trees, though above the treetops, some light from the mansion could be seen, even through the fog.

  Dominil screeched round the final corner of the long driveway and headed for the large temporary parking lot some way to the side of the house. She parked by the side of a huge truck, one of the vehicles that had brought the stage equipment. She was still some way from the front entrance, but as she emerged from her car she could already hear the voice of Felicori floating over the grounds, amplified and projected through the still night air.

  “Onor, virtude, amore, mi preparano il premio?”

  Dominil recognized the line. “Does honor, virtue, and love, prepare me a reward?” “I doubt it,” she muttered. She swiftly scanned the area, looking for any sign of werewolf hunters. Finding none, and reassured by the lack of any sort of outcry, she started towards the house. At that moment, two things happened simultaneously, neither of them good. Firstly, she was hit by a wave of nausea that caused her to gasp and sink against her car for support. Secondly, Albermarle walked out from behind the huge truck and grinned at her.

  “Hello, Dominil. Nice to see you again. Not feeling well?”

  Dominil immediately attempted to transform into her werewolf shape, but to her horror, nothing happened. She screwed up her face with the effort and tried again.

  “Trying to become werewolf?” asked Albermarle, in the light, bantering tone he might have used in the comic shop. “Not going to work, I’m afraid.” He looked triumphantly at Dominil, waiting for her to speak.