The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf

by Martin Millar

  “Perhaps she’s just traveling back there,” said Thrix.

  “From Moonglow’s report, it sounded more like there was some sort of communicating device. Is that possible?”

  “Maybe, given how powerful the Empress is.”

  They were standing at the side of the ballroom, which had now come alive with dancers. The level of music and conversation had increased. Dominil leaned closer to talk to Thrix, but was interrupted by a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turned round to find a young man in evening dress looking at her admiringly.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  “Not at this moment.”

  “I saw you model. I thought you were terrific.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You were the best model. Would you like to dance?”

  “No.”

  Dominil turned back to Thrix.

  “Maybe later,” said the young man, before going away disappointed.

  “Perhaps you should have accepted the invitation,” said Thrix. “He looked rich.”

  “I didn’t come here to meet a rich man. Or to dance.” Dominil pursed her lips, considering her next move. “I think it’s time to visit the Empress’s suite.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” asked Thrix.

  “No. You should look for Mr. Eggers and any potential threat from hunters. Provided Queen Malveria continues to occupy the attention of the Empress, I believe I can visit her rooms safely.”

  Kalix appeared. “Decembrius is here! Is he following me?”

  “No,” said Dominil. “I asked him to stand guard.”

  “Well, I don’t like it.”

  “Have you made any progress with Adviser Bakmer?”

  “No. I had to go outside.” Kalix noticed her sister sneering at her. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “It never takes long for you to mess things up, does it? You overdosed in Scotland and got Minerva killed. And you’ve hardly been here five minutes and you’re outside throwing up.”

  Kalix was stunned by the unexpected attack. Since the beginning of Dominil’s plan there had been an uneasy truce between them. Apparently, with the modeling now over, Thrix had reopened hostilities.

  “Stop saying I got Minerva killed!” she shouted, raising her voice above the music.

  “Why? You did.”

  “No, I didn’t!”

  “Stop arguing,” said Dominil brusquely. “Thrix, you should look for Mr. Eggers. Kalix, come with me. I need your help.”

  Dominil led a fuming Kalix away from Thrix.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To break into the Empress’s rooms.”

  “What about Bakmer?”

  “Vex is doing well with him at the moment. Meanwhile—”

  They were interrupted by two young men who accosted Dominil, wondering if she might like to dance. At the same instant another younger man, possibly a student, attempted to talk to Kalix, though he seemed rather tongue-tied and only managed to blurt out how much he’d liked her when she walked down the catwalk. Dominil brushed them aside and dragged Kalix on.

  St. Amelia’s Ball had now come to life. The dance floor was full and the corridors outside the ballroom were busy. There was a constant coming and going of guests between the dance, the rooms upstairs and the gardens outside. Girls laughed, men attempted to look gallant in their evening clothes, waiters carried trays of champagne, a few older heads discussed business in corners and, somewhere in the middle of it all, Queen Malveria vied with the Empress Kabachetka for supremacy.

  “Did I really get Minerva killed?” asked Kalix as she followed Dominil up the stairs.

  “No. But it might be said you made a contribution.”

  “Oh,” said Kalix.

  The fourth floor was quieter but there were still people around, mainly women hurrying back to their rooms to make adjustments to their dress. Two fair-haired girls of no more than nineteen went past them, searching in their handbags and laughing about something.

  “I’m going into the Empress’s suite,” said Dominil. “If the Empress or Distikka appears, delay them.”

  “How? OK, I know, use my initiative.”

  Dominil took out a plastic passkey and slipped into the Empress’s room. Kalix stood for a moment, then walked slowly down the corridor.

  It was rare for Kalix to think about being a werewolf. Having been born that way, it was completely natural, and not a topic for introspection. But she did think, as she wandered down the corridor, that this was a very unusual situation for anyone to be in. Here she was, at the debutantes’ ball, surrounded by rich young women in ball gowns, wearing a tiny little outfit designed by her sister, whom she hated, strolling down a corridor in the most expensive hotel in London, pretending to be nonchalant while actually standing guard for her cousin, who was at that moment burgling the room of a powerful Fire Elemental from another dimension.

  And we’re all werewolves, thought Kalix, suddenly contrasting her life to that of everyone else at the ball. This has to be one of the strangest things that’s ever happened anywhere to anyone.

  “Oh, it’s the model!” boomed a voice behind her.

  Kalix whirled round to find herself confronted by a man of around forty who’d accessorized his evening dress with quite an extravagant aquamarine scarf.

  “I’ve been hoping to meet you!”

  “You have?”

  The man’s hair was rather longer than normal for a man of his age. It was turning gray prematurely, but stylishly. He whipped out a business card and thrust it at Kalix.

  “You were so fantastic on the catwalk! You must come and model for me!”

  Quite puzzled by this development, Kalix looked blankly at the business card, and thought that everything had just become stranger.

  CHAPTER 96

  Dominil closed the door behind her. She found herself in a marble foyer. A door led to an office on her right. Straight ahead was the sitting room. Empress Kabachetka was staying in the Queen Victoria Suite, which the hotel claimed to be among the finest accommodations in the country. Dominil had studied pictures of the rooms on the hotel’s website and knew what to expect. She knew there were eight windows with views of the Thames and the Houses of Parliament. There was a dining room, a kitchen and several bedrooms, all recently refurbished back to their original Edwardian style.

  Dominil advanced into the huge sitting room. She took a moment to glance at a painting by George Clausen, but was otherwise unmoved by the luxuriance of her surroundings. There was no time to thoroughly search the suite. It was unlikely that the Empress would leave the ballroom, but she might send her staff to her rooms. Dominil didn’t really expect that she’d find any useful documents there. The Empress wouldn’t carry documents. The possibility of a portal to her own dimension was another matter. Dominil quickly examined the office, looked round the sitting room and living room, and glanced into the kitchen. Everything seemed normal. Outside she could see the dark gothic shape of the Houses of Parliament and the Thames below. She walked into the master bedroom, switching on the light.

  This hotel is keen on chandeliers, she thought. There were clothes strewn untidily on the bed, and the dressing room door was open. Inside she found more clothes hanging neatly and a dresser covered with cosmetics. She noticed a small marble-topped table next to the dresser. On top of it was a flower arrangement and an object she couldn’t put a name to. Some sort of jewel, which seemed to pulse with an internal light. Dominil studied it.

  It doesn’t come from this world, she decided quickly. Is this the communication device?

  Dominil reached out her hand, but hesitated. For all she knew the jewel might suck her into some nether void. Or a volcano, perhaps.

  Dominil shrugged. It would be an interesting way to die. She touched the jewel. Pale yellow streamed from the gem into the room, forming itself into a large oval disc, tall enough to step into. Through the pale disc she could see what appeared to be another room. It was opulent too, but
dark red, with a black marble floor. From the otherworldly designs on the red tapestries, Dominil surmised that she was looking into a room somewhere in the Empress Kabachetka’s realm. She heard footsteps. The sound was coming through the oval light.

  Interesting, thought Dominil. The portal allows both light and sound to pass through. I wonder who’s there?

  A large, dark figure came into view. The figure turned toward the portal. A huge man, with long dark hair and a distinctive scar on his jaw. As he saw Dominil, his eyes opened wide with surprise. There was a long pause.

  “Hello, Sarapen,” said Dominil.

  CHAPTER 97

  Mr. Eggers contacted the Guild as quickly as he could. Reception for mobile phones in the hotel was unstable, so he used the line in Distikka’s room to call Mr. Carmichael at home. Carmichael was as agitated as Eggers to learn there were werewolves at the ball.

  “Kalix MacRinnalch is there?”

  It was an astonishing piece of news. The Avenaris Guild had invested a huge amount of time and manpower searching for Kalix, without success. Now she’d turned up at an event organized by their ally, the Empress.

  “What’s Kabachetka doing, letting werewolves in?”

  Mr. Eggers found it difficult to answer. Distikka had explained it to him but, as always, anything concerning Thrix was confusing for the hunters. Her spells of concealment were so strong that it was hard for an enemy even to remember her name.

  “I don’t know why Kalix is here, but she is. And another werewolf, the one with white hair.” Mr. Eggers had some concerns for his own safety. He was a senior member of the Guild but had given up hunting many years ago. It was years since he’d shot a silver bullet. He didn’t even have his gun with him.

  “You said the Empress doesn’t want trouble at her ball. Is she going to refuse entry to our men?” asked Mr. Carmichael.

  Mr. Eggers wasn’t certain. “Distikka insisted there couldn’t be any trouble inside. But there are a lot of gardens between the hotel and the river. That’s a possible entry point.”

  Mr. Carmichael rang off and began the process of deploying hunters. At short notice, this wasn’t so easy. The Guild did maintain a round-the-clock presence at its headquarters, but the night commander told Mr. Carmichael that Group Sixteen wasn’t in London, having gone off for a weekend of training in the countryside. Group Twelve, containing several senior hunters, wasn’t available either.

  “They’re in Serbia for International Werewolf-Hunter Cooperation Week.”

  “Well, who is available?”

  “Group Fifteen is on duty. But two of them have never been in action before.”

  Mr. Carmichael hesitated. Group Fifteen contained two newcomers and another hunter with limited experience. They did have an experienced leader, and he’d expressed optimism about his charges.

  “We can’t miss this opportunity. Send them to the hotel. Perhaps they can find an opening to attack. But emphasize it’s a dangerous mission. They’re not to take any chances.”

  The night commander acknowledged Mr. Carmichael’s orders, and alerted Group Fifteen. There was a very hurried visit to the storerooms to stock up on silver bullets, while a logistics officer studied maps and looked for the best way to get the hunters close to their targets.

  Mr. Eggers was reassured as he left Distikka’s hotel room. Hunters were on their way. He wondered what he could do to help. Could he somehow lure Kalix outside? If he could isolate her in the gardens, Group Fifteen would have a good chance of killing her. He hurried along to the lift. There he met a blonde-haired woman in a red evening gown. He was surprised to find that she was weeping. Mr. Eggers stood uncomfortably beside her as they waited for the lift. She turned toward him. Tears ran down her face from her beautiful blue eyes.

  “My husband’s gone off with that woman again!” she sobbed. Then, as if all her strength had gone, she leaned against Mr. Eggers, taking his arm for support. Mr. Eggers was nonplussed. Though he was busy with other matters, he felt a gallant desire to comfort her.

  “I’m sure it will be all right,” he said.

  The woman cried even more. The lift arrived and she stumbled in. “I’m going to throw myself in the river,” she wailed.

  “You really mustn’t do that,” said Mr. Eggers anxiously. “These things generally sort themselves out, you know.”

  The blonde-haired woman sobbed and leaned against Mr. Eggers for support. She cried all the way to the ground floor, so that as the lift doors opened, Mr. Eggers wondered what he could possibly do to prevent her from throwing herself in the river, something he feared that she might really do, so upset did she seem.

  CHAPTER 98

  Moonglow had not been expecting to dance. She only faintly remembered the basic steps of the waltz, which, for some reason, mysterious to her at the time, she’d learned at school. William, however, was in high spirits, partly because he liked being in the grand hotel, and partly because he was having such an enjoyable time with Moonglow.

  “You’re a really great date,” he told her. “Let’s dance.”

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  “Look, it’s crowded on the dance floor. Half these people are just shuffling round. We can do that.”

  It was true that many couples were not exhibiting a great deal of skill. Some of the young debutantes and their partners moved gracefully in time with the music, but there were others who seemed fairly inept. Young lovers, content just to hold on to each other, did no more than slowly rotate while resting their heads on each other’s shoulder. While not exactly chaotic, it was all less formal than Moonglow had expected, and more cheerful. There were a lot of happy-looking people in evening dress on the dance floor.

  “All right,” said Moonglow. “Let’s dance.”

  She followed William into the throng and put an arm round his waist and the other on his shoulder. She noticed that the muscles on his arms felt hard and strong. They danced easily together. Though they didn’t know it, William’s prediction that no one would notice them wasn’t quite accurate. William was the son of a duke and heir to a large fortune, and several young women in the room wondered who the young woman in the black dress might be, because they’d never seen her before at any of their events. A few of their mothers asked William’s mother about her. She told them truthfully that she didn’t know the girl well, but had spoken to her, and liked her very much, and wouldn’t mind at all if the romance was to flourish.

  The area around the Princess was a little less congested than the rest of the room. There the editor of Vogue and several other fashion luminaries sat with Empress Kabachetka. As sponsor of the ball, she was as important as she’d hoped she’d be. It would have been a great triumph, had the Fire Queen not been doing her best to ruin it. Not that Malveria was doing anything untoward. Her manners were perfect. She’d congratulated the Empress warmly on the success of the ball. She’d been a little pushy in introducing herself to the organizers as Thrix’s assistant for the evening, but Thrix’s clothes had been very well received, and it wasn’t strange that one of her staff might want to introduce herself.

  “Assistant indeed,” hissed Kabachetka, turning to Distikka, who sat quietly at her side. “The Fire Queen could not assist in anything. Look at how ridiculous she appears on the dance floor.”

  Distikka didn’t reply. The Fire Queen danced beautifully, even in her very high heels. Her evening gown clung to her lithe figure, and her long hair seemed to somehow glow under the chandeliers. Several men, previously arrested by the site of Kabachetka, now seemed more interested in observing Malveria.

  “Have you noticed how she is flinging herself at poor Mr. Dewar?” said the Empress. “One trembles at the thought of her stepping on his foot and crippling him. Distikka, prepare to distract the Fire Queen.”

  “Pardon?” said Distikka.

  “I must rescue Mr. Dewar from her clutches. There is no time to lose.”

  “I really don’t think I know how to distract her,” said Distikka.r />
  “You will just have to do your best!” said the Empress sharply. “As no one else seems to be around. Where is the rest of my staff? I shall have harsh words for Bakmer and Gezinka.”

  The music ended with a flourish.

  “Now is your chance,” said the Empress. “Distract Malveria and be quick about it.”

  Distikka shook her head, but rose to her feet. She had not expected to enjoy the ball, and her expectations had proved accurate. She hated her ball gown, the ballroom and everyone in it. Apart from Dominil, whom she had rather liked.

  I wonder what Dominil is doing now? she thought as she approached the Fire Queen.

  CHAPTER 99

  “Dominil!” Sarapen cried out in surprise. He walked toward the portal, but it wouldn’t let him through. He took a step back. “Where are you?”

  “I’m in a hotel in London,” sad Dominil. “Where are you?”

  “At the Empress Kabachetka’s palace.”

  “Ah.” Dominil nodded. “So the Empress took you there and revived you. I never considered that possibility.”

  “Why not?” demanded Sarapen.

  “I believed you were dead.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I went to your funeral.”

  Sarapen found this difficult to take in. He was already shocked by the sudden encounter with Dominil. The last time he’d seen her she was passing the Begravar knife to Kalix, just before his sister stabbed him.

  “How could there be a funeral?”

  “The Empress handed back your body. Which, I now perceive, was a fake. The Empress’s sorcery has grown stronger since she ascended to the throne.”

  Sarapen growled. “It has.” He tried to pass through the portal again but again it resisted him. “Is the Empress there?”

  “She is,” said Dominil. “But I don’t have time to talk. I’m here on a mission.”

  “You don’t have time to talk!” roared Sarapen. “If I could get through this portal I’d have some things to say to you! Like thanking you for the mortal wound!”