The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf

by Martin Millar

  She skipped off lightly into the darkness. Her anxiety had vanished, as it always did when she was involved in fighting. She felt refreshed, and quite pleased with herself for not killing anyone. They could all be put back together in hospital.

  Kalix ran along the riverbank and felt sufficiently enthused to take on her werewolf shape for a few moments as she leaped another fence around an area of grass which was hidden from public view. As she emerged back onto the road, she changed back into her human shape and marched on briskly, feeling much better about everything.

  Kalix continued walking east, staying close to the river. She passed the Tate Modern gallery and Southwark Cathedral before turning left onto London Bridge and crossing the Thames. A police car went past very quickly with its lights blazing. It was soon followed by another speeding car. Kalix wondered if they might be on their way to investigate the youths she’d beaten up outside the theater. She knew from experience that she wouldn’t normally be suspected of violent crime, as she looked so frail, but she supposed it was possible that one of the youths might give a description of her. She put her head down and picked up her pace, crossing the bridge quickly and turning into the streets north of the river.

  It was now the early hours of the morning. She still had a long way to go before she reached Merchant MacDoig’s shop, but she was used to walking around London and didn’t mind. There was no point arriving too early. The Merchant’s shop in London was usually staffed by MacDoig’s son, and he tended not to open the premises till ten or eleven in the morning. More than once, Kalix had spent an uncomfortable morning in the alleyway outside the shop, waiting for it to open so she could buy laudanum.

  Kalix wasn’t feeling too desperate. The near-euphoria she felt after fighting had mellowed her mood sufficiently for her not to mind waiting. It would mean sleeping out of doors, but the young werewolf had done that many times. She took the main road past Tower Hill and yawned. Kalix wondered where she might sleep. She remembered seeing a park somewhere between here and Limehouse.

  Kalix was now alone in the dimly illuminated streets. She liked the feeling. She arrived at the park. There was a sign outside though Kalix couldn’t make it out properly. She hopped over a wire fence, padded over some gray tennis courts and disappeared beneath the trees. There she found a large clump of bushes. Glancing around quickly to see that no one observed her, she changed into her werewolf shape, pushed her way into the bushes and lay down comfortably on the ground. She wasn’t far from Merchant MacDoig’s shop. She’d go there in the morning, buy laudanum and then decide what to do with herself. Though no longer anxious, Kalix could still remember her annoyance at the way everyone in the house had interfered with her business and refused to leave her alone.

  Maybe I should move out, thought Kalix. I’m fed up with them all.

  With that, she went to sleep.

  CHAPTER 45

  Kalix woke in better spirits. Spending the night outdoors made her feel less connected with her flatmates and, by extension, with her family and the MacRinnalch Clan. Her mother sent her allowance each month via Moonglow, and Kalix had never liked it that her friends should be linked to her family in this way. Now, in the early morning sunlight, she felt remote from them all. The burden of guilt she’d been feeling since the death of Minerva MacRinnalch felt less oppressive.

  Kalix emerged from the bushes looking disheveled but healthy. She set off, hoping that the Merchant’s son might open early. She had enough money for a bottle of laudanum. Working in the supermarket during her vacation had allowed her to save a little as well as pay the bills. She passed a small branch of the same supermarket on her way toward Limehouse, and she remembered how strange it had seemed, pushing trolleys around and stacking shelves. Kalix hadn’t much enjoyed the enforced discipline of turning up for work, though Daniel’s good nature and Vex’s indestructible good humor had made the days pass quicker.

  Kalix found herself among a dense crowd of smartly dressed pedestrians, employees of the banks and financial institutions in the area. She ignored them, though there were some curious glances directed toward her, with her long coat, extremely long, tousled hair, her old boots and her ancient jeans. She thought about the fight she’d been involved in. She still felt pleased she’d managed to be slightly less violent. Even though she’d been attacked, she hadn’t killed anyone. That was surely a step in the right direction. She stopped, took her journal from her bag and placed a tick on the list in the appropriate place.

  At least the whole plan isn’t going wrong, she thought. She noticed all the crosses denoting her failures and quickly put her journal away.

  Kalix strolled along Narrow Street with the river on her right and a great facade of concrete and glass on her left. Here, in this street of modern commerce, was the tiny alleyway that led to the Merchant’s shop. The alley was long and dark, and belonged to a former age, as did the shop at the end. Merchant MacDoig’s ancient premises still seemed to exist in the time of Dickens, with tiny panes of glass in leaded windows and a tinkling bell on a chain you rang for admittance.

  Kalix hoped the shop might be open, but the old door with its flaked black paint was firmly closed and there was no response when she rang the bell. Kalix growled, very faintly. Her need for laudanum was growing slightly. She wasn’t desperate yet, but she would be if the MacDoigs didn’t appear. Kalix wondered if they ever went on holiday. She’d never known the shop to be closed, but the thought troubled her and brought on a twinge of anxiety. She looked at the door, wondering if she could batter it open. Probably, she thought, unless it was protected by some spell. That was possible. It was notable that neither of the MacDoigs ever showed the slightest sign of nervousness when conversing with werewolves, even angry werewolves. Among the MacRinnalchs, it was commonly supposed that they both carried some sort of sorcerous protection.

  Kalix went back up the alley, far less enthusiastically than she’d approached the shop. She didn’t want to sit around and be found there by the Merchant, waiting for laudanum. It would be humiliating. Nor did she want to loiter in the main street, where she felt conspicuous. She turned into the first side street she came to and paused idly outside a wine bar, gazing at what seemed to her a very modern decor of mirrors and low-backed chairs. Despite the relatively upmarket nature of the wine bar, there was a cheap-looking sign in the window advertising “Mojito madness.” Kalix didn’t know what that meant.

  “Fancy a mojito?”

  Kalix spun around, alarmed to be addressed by a stranger. She found herself facing a young man perhaps twenty years old. He was about an inch shorter than her, with long wavy blonde hair and large blue eyes. Kalix’s first thought was that he looked like a girl. She glared at him suspiciously.

  “What?” she demanded.

  The young man grinned. He was wearing a short blue coat, which was also, Kalix thought, rather girly.

  “Mojito madness,” said the young man, pointing at the sign. “I’ll buy you one.”

  Kalix was still alarmed, and now she felt annoyed too. “I don’t know what a mojito is,” she said in a very unfriendly tone. “And why would you buy me one anyway?”

  The young man, apparently not put off by her tone, grinned at her again. He had nice teeth, Kalix noticed.

  “It’s a cocktail,” he said. “Made with rum. Sorry, did I offend you by asking if I could buy you one? I just noticed you looking pretty and lonely in the street and thought I’d talk to you.”

  “Oh.” Kalix was nonplussed at this, though she felt a little less angry. It was difficult to remain all that annoyed at the young man who’d just complimented her. He certainly wasn’t threatening. Kalix noticed a faint trace of eyeliner around his eyes.

  “I like your coat,” he continued. “And your nose ring, it’s pretty. Would you like a mojito?”

  Kalix looked at the wine bar. “It’s not open yet,” she said.

  “It’ll be open soon.”

  Kalix was so shy that she found it puzzling to meet any
one who was confident about talking to strangers. She could never have done it herself. She had a feeling that she wouldn’t mind having a mojito with this young man, but she suppressed it. She was here to buy laudanum. She shook her head and took a step away.

  “No thanks,” she said.

  The young man looked disappointed. “I’m Manny,” he said. “What’s your name?”

  Kalix didn’t answer but hurried away, back into the main road by the river. She felt a little cheered by the encounter. She supposed it wasn’t such a bad thing for a nice young stranger to call her pretty. At least it had passed a little time. She headed back toward the alley, hoping that the MacDoigs might now have opened their shop.

  CHAPTER 46

  This time, when Kalix rang the bell, she sensed herself being examined through the dusty peephole. The door swung open and Merchant MacDoig’s son greeted her with the same hearty smile that his father had directed toward his customers for more than a century. The Merchant had lived an unnaturally long life, though no one knew how.

  Young MacDoig ushered Kalix quickly inside. The interior was a treasure house of strange, arcane items, many of them rare, and some of them unrecognizable. Scattered here and there were a few pieces of antique furniture, though the finest pieces were kept upstairs, where the Merchant had made a very cozy nest full of valuable old furnishings and tableware. He’d even managed to maintain his coal fire, though it was no longer legal to burn coal in London. Merchant MacDoig was determinedly old-fashioned, and his son was taking after him. He was stout like his father, he wore the same Victorian clothes and while his shock of hair was red rather than gray, he was developing the same florid face.

  “It’s fine to see you again, Kalix. Still enjoying yourself in the big city, aye? Pleased to hear it.”

  MacDoig disappeared behind the counter and almost from view at the back of the shop. He half opened a door and leaned through. The MacDoigs were careful never to display their supply of laudanum in public. Where they obtained it from was unknown. As far as Kalix understood, the opium tincture was not manufactured and sold as an illegal drug in the same way that other substances were. It was produced for medical use only, and its supply was tightly controlled. The MacDoigs had found a supplier, somewhere.

  “Finest quality,” said Young MacDoig proudly, producing an unlabeled brown glass bottle.

  The first time Kalix had bought laudanum from Merchant MacDoig, he’d let her have it cheaply. As a favor, he’d said. It hadn’t taken long for the price to increase. Kalix counted out her money and handed it over.

  “A terrible business up in Scotland,” said the Merchant’s son. “Old Minerva, I mean. Poor soul. We did a lot of business with her.”

  Kalix wondered if he knew about her part in Minerva’s death. The MacDoigs always knew a lot of gossip. They might easily have learned of Kalix’s shameful part in the affair. Kalix fixed her gaze on the counter as she handed over her money.

  “There will be trouble now, I’m sure,” MacDoig said. “The clan won’t let it go easily.”

  He looked to Kalix for agreement, but the young werewolf had no desire to stay and trade gossip. Buying laudanum was shameful enough at the best of times. It felt worse now, after Minerva’s death. Kalix muttered a barely audible “goodbye” before racing off up the alley, relieved to have escaped. She turned back into the main road then halted abruptly. The overwhelming odors of the city could blunt the sharp senses of a werewolf, but there was no mistaking the scent that Kalix picked up. Decembrius was nearby. Kalix wasn’t keen for Decembrius to catch her visiting the MacDoigs. He’d know what she was there for. She ducked her head and hurried on, but halted again after only a few paces. The only times she’d known Decembrius to visit the Merchant had been when he was on some errand for the Douglas-MacPhees. Could he possibly be working with them again?

  Kalix unconsciously touched her necklace, a plain metal chain holding an unusual dark jewel. It looked unremarkable, but the powerful talisman meant that she could not be found by sorcery, nor could her scent be noticed. Unless Decembrius actually saw her, he wouldn’t know she was there. Kalix slunk into a doorway, then peeped around the corner. Almost immediately Decembrius appeared, heading for the alley. Kalix caught the scent of the Douglas-MacPhees, somewhere nearby.

  So, she thought, he is working with them again. Even though he knows they tried to kill me.

  Kalix was outraged. She was on the point of storming after Decembrius when her way was blocked by the sudden reappearance of the young man who’d approached her outside the wine bar. He was riding a bike on the pavement.

  “Hello again,” he said, and smiled.

  “Are you following me?” demanded Kalix.

  “No! I’m just making a delivery. I’m a courier.”

  Kalix glared at him. On his bike, with a large bag slung over his shoulder, he did indeed appear to be a bicycle courier, but that was no excuse for bothering her.

  “I’m busy,” she said. “Go away.”

  “Your hair is so pretty,” he said. “It’s so long. I love your hair.”

  Kalix was taken aback. She almost thanked him before she remembered that she was busy spying on Decembrius. “Go away,” she said again, this time more forcibly.

  The young man shrugged, and for the first time since they’d met, he looked discouraged.

  “OK.” He pulled a leaflet from his jacket pocket. “I just work as a courier to pay the bills. Really I’m an artist. You should look at my website. I’m having an exhibition.”

  He handed Kalix the leaflet and then cycled off. Kalix put the leaflet in her pocket, feeling quite puzzled by the encounter. Was it normal to approach someone twice in the street? She wasn’t sure. She’d think about it later. Decembrius had disappeared from view and must now be in the Merchant’s shop. Kalix peeped out from the doorway again but withdrew rapidly as she recognized the Douglas-MacPhees’ old van parked along the street. Now she felt very angry. How dare Decembrius be working with them again? The three of them had tried to kill her, more than once. Markus, as Thane, had ordered them to leave her alone, but she didn’t suppose they would. She felt tempted to pre-empt matters and go and attack them right now. She could charge into their van and beat them all up. Kalix was pleased with this idea, until she remembered that she was trying to be less violent. She felt disappointed, and wondered if being less violent had to include the Douglas-MacPhees.

  “Here you are,” came a voice.

  Kalix looked around. A middle-aged businessman in a suit dropped some coins into her hand, smiled politely and walked off. Kalix flushed red with embarrassment at being mistaken for a beggar in a doorway. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. She crammed the coins into her pocket without counting them and attempted to look less poor.

  She peered around the doorway again, waiting for Decembrius to appear. A young woman in a formal black business outfit stopped in front of her, and opened her purse.

  “No, I’m not—” began Kalix.

  “Here,” said the woman, and forced some coins into Kalix’s hand.

  “Thank you,” said Kalix glumly. The woman smiled and departed.

  “I can’t believe you’re begging in the street!” cried Decembrius, appearing suddenly at her side. “How could you sink so low?”

  Kalix flushed an even deeper shade of red. “I wasn’t begging! I was just—”

  “And right outside the Merchant’s shop! You should be ashamed.”

  “I wasn’t begging!” shouted Kalix. “They just kept forcing money into my hands!”

  “Yes,” said Decembrius. “Because that always happens in London. People just force money into your hands.”

  “I can’t help it if they were generous,” said Kalix rather weakly. She scowled. “What are you doing here with the Douglas-MacPhees? Are you selling stolen goods for them again?”

  Decembrius clamped his jaws.

  “Well?” demanded Kalix.

  “I have to make a living, don’t I? It�
�s better than begging.”

  “I wasn’t begging! How could you work with the Douglas-MacPhees when they tried to kill me?”

  Decembrius shrugged. “They’re not trying to kill you any more, are they? So I visited the Merchant for them. They’re not welcome in his shop, after some misunderstandings . . .”

  They glared at each other.

  “I’m so glad we broke up!” said Kalix.

  “Me too,” said Decembrius. “Best thing that could have happened.”

  Kalix suddenly grabbed Decembrius and pulled him toward her.

  “What’s this?” said Decembrius. “I thought you were annoyed at me?”

  Kalix, holding tightly on to Decembrius, dragged him into the doorway.

  “I’m not getting back together with you,” said Decembrius. “You’re too much trouble.”

  “I don’t want to get back together,” hissed Kalix. “There are hunters in the street!”

  Decembrius understood immediately. He put his arms around Kalix and stood with her as if in a lovers’ embrace.

  “Are you sure they’re hunters?” he whispered in Kalix’s ear.

  “Yes. I recognize one of them, I’ve met him before.”

  “How many of them?”

  “Three, I think.”