The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf

by Martin Millar

  “I can help,” said Vex, squeezing her way to her side. “Maybe.”

  She put her hands on Kalix’s chest. A faint orange glow came from her fingers. She put one hand on Kalix’s forehead and a little more light passed between them.

  “I didn’t know you could do that,” said Moonglow.

  Vex looked troubled. “I can only heal flowers, really.” She kept her hand on Kalix’s forehead, trying to send some of her elemental fire into the young werewolf’s body.

  “I’ll go to Thrix’s flat,” said Daniel. “Maybe she has werewolf medicine.”

  They weren’t far from Knightsbridge. Daniel headed for the car park underneath Thrix’s block.

  “How are we going to get everyone upstairs?” said Moonglow.

  There was no reply. Daniel parked in the car park, and looked round. “What now?”

  Moonglow and Vex looked hopelessly at the wounded werewolves. Kalix was still unconscious though her breathing had become more regular since Vex’s intervention. Dominil was fading quickly. Her eyes were open, but unseeing. Moonglow leaned over her, and thought for a moment that she was already dead. “Can you help Dominil?” she asked Vex.

  “This is all terrible!” cried Vex. “Stupid werewolves, fighting all the time!” She put one hand over Dominil’s throat and the other over the wound in her chest. The faintest of blue flames emerged from her fingers, penetrating Dominil’s skin. Beads of perspiration appeared on Vex’s forehead as she grappled with the unfamiliar and difficult task. The blue fire from her hands grew fainter then disappeared.

  “I think you saved her,” said Moonglow.

  “I need to lie down,” said Vex. She lay limply on the floor, her strength completely gone.

  Eskandor had reverted to his human form in death. Moonglow couldn’t bear to look at the body. One of the werewolves she didn’t recognize cried out in pain as he was burned inside by silver. Kalix was so battered as to be hardly recognizable.

  “What are we going to do?”

  Daniel didn’t know. They’d managed to rescue the werewolves from the Guild’s headquarters but now it seemed likely that they’d all die in the back of a van in an underground car park in Knightsbridge.

  CHAPTER 170

  The Fire Queen lay on the floor of the stationery cupboard for a long time. Eventually she gathered enough strength to haul herself upright.

  “A tremendous triumph against the vile Kabachetka.” She smiled. She looked down at her dress. It was badly scorched. Her smile vanished. “Once more I am obliged to turn up at a fashion event in damaged clothes. It is so trying.”

  Though the Queen felt weak she was determined to at least make an appearance. “I have vanquished Kabachetka. I will say a polite hello to Donatella Versace if it’s the last thing I do.”

  She could no longer maintain her high-heel spell, and was walking with difficulty as she emerged from the cupboard. “No doubt Agrivex has carried me to some part of the building inhabited only by junior sales clerks. Donatella may be miles away.”

  The Queen stepped round a corner and found herself facing a large wall mirror. She grimaced. Her hair was tangled and her make-up was in a very poor state. Worse, she was carrying Vex’s green plastic bag.

  The ultimate disgrace, she thought. She had a strong urge to throw it away but was prevented by an innate sense of honor. Having agreed to look after the handbag belonging to another female, even Agrivex, she could not simply discard it. The chivalrous code of the Hiyasta does not permit one to throw another woman’s handbag in the bin, no mater how wretched it may be.

  The Fire Queen attempted to make some emergency repairs in the mirror. She touched up her eyeliner, but as she studied her reflection, she felt her spirits sag.

  I look terrible. I’m in no fit state to encounter anyone fashionable. I will return to the palace.

  The Fire Queen turned round and bumped right into Donatella Versace who emerged from a private room, with the Japanese designer beside her. Next to Versace and Takahashi were the editors of Vogue and Elle, and behind them a collection of journalists, photographers and models. The Fire Queen looked at them blankly. For once in her life she felt completely lost for words. She smiled weakly as the group moved around her.

  Mr. Takahashi stopped. He was a young designer, no more than twenty-five, with very long dark hair. He looked at the Fire Queen. His face lit up. “You have the bag!” he said, excitedly.

  “Pardon?”

  “The green plastic bag from my first collection! Such a rare item!” He embraced the bag. Then he embraced Malveria. “I’m so happy to see this bag again.”

  By now the assorted editors, models and designers had come to a halt. The Fire Queen found herself the unexpected center of attraction.

  “This bag launched my career in Japan!” enthused Takahashi. “I did not know any of them ever reached Britain! It is so good of you to bring it to my launch!”

  The Fire Queen felt some strength returning to her ankles. She drew herself up elegantly. “I thought you may appreciate it, Mr. Takahashi.”

  “However did you find it?”

  The Fire Queen smiled. “I have many sources around the world.”

  “It’s such a splendid piece,” said the editor of Elle, very appreciatively.

  “It’s been a favorite of mine for a long time,” said Malveria.

  Noticing several photographers about to take pictures, the Fire Queen put her hand to her hair as if to straighten it, and then, with her power returning, let a little of her fire flow into it, so it would look good for the cameras.

  “One of myself beside Donatella and Mr. Takahashi? Certainly. Have you noticed my heels? I chose them to go with the bag, in an amusing contrast. Another picture? If you really insist.”

  CHAPTER 171

  Daniel was bracing himself for the task of carrying nine werewolves to the lift, when the back door of the van sprung open. There stood the Fire Queen, looking exuberant.

  “I have had a most unexpected fashion triumph!” she said. Malveria cast her eyes over the scene of carnage that confronted her. “But I will tell you about it later. Thrix, are you still alive?”

  Thrix opened her eyes.

  “Excellent,” said the Fire Queen. “I would miss you so. I fought Kabachetka, and suffered mightily, but emerged in splendid victory.”

  “Thank you,” whispered Thrix.

  “I suppose you will want me to heal your companions?”

  “Please,” said Thrix.

  “For you, dearest friend, anything. Though I must insist in return you give some serious thought to my winter wardrobe, which must be immaculate.”

  The Fire Queen lifted both hands and uttered a spell. Moonglow felt a sudden freezing chill, and then, astonishingly, found herself in Thrix’s apartment. Malveria had transported them all.

  “Yes, Moonglow. I am indeed much more powerful than you imagine.” The Fire Queen frowned. “But not at this moment powerful enough to cope with so many injuries. Agrivex, go to the palace and bring Grand Physician and Master of Herbs Idrigal.

  “I can’t move,” protested Vex.

  “Get up, wretched girl,” commanded the Fire Queen. “Performing a little healing does not entitle you to laze around all day.”

  Vex climbed to her feet, grumbling about the ingratitude of her aunt and departed.

  “My goodness, Thrix, you have been shot very badly. Fortunately, I came as quickly as I could. Nothing could delay me, except I had to talk a while with dear Donatella. It would have been rude not to. She has invited me to a little soirée next Wednesday.”

  The Fire Queen bent over Thrix and put her lips to her mouth, breathing fire directly into her body. Thrix shuddered. The Queen withdrew. “Also, I have a date with a Japanese fashion designer.”

  The Queen returned to healing her friend. Minutes later, Grand Physician Idrigal appeared in the room. Vex followed, though on arrival she lay on the couch and closed her eyes, exhausted.

  “Ah, Idrigal,
” said the Fire Queen. “I need you to heal werewolves.”

  The tall physician looked surprised, and slightly offended. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

  “Of course you can. They are not complicated creatures. You have healed horses at the royal stables, have you not? Think of them in similar terms.”

  Grand Physician Idrigal attempted to help the other werewolves, while the Fire Queen continued her efforts with Thrix.

  “How did you manage to attract so many silver bullets?”

  “They had a machine gun.”

  “Ah. But the attack was a success?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Brace yourself, dear friend, it may be painful as I extract this silver from your liver. Did I mention that I had my picture taken by the photographers from Vogue?”

  The Queen paused, and swayed slightly. The fire that flowed from her fingers halted for several seconds before spluttering reluctantly back to life. She had expended a huge amount of energy in defeating Kabachetka and her power was still greatly depleted.

  “Had I realized that half the MacRinnalch Clan would need healing, I would have asked you for a good deal more than a new winter wardrobe. One is quite shattered, I assure you, and cannot keep this up forever.”

  CHAPTER 172

  The Mistress of the Werewolves sat alone in her chambers, brooding. Events had not turned out as she’d expected. She’d been prepared for Markus’s illness. Teinn’s illnesses were rarely fatal. It was the fairy’s additional mischief that was so damaging. The rumor that Verasa had secretly poisoned Wallace MacGregor had rapidly spread beyond the castle. The Mistress of the Werewolves had already found herself on the receiving end of an irate phone call from Baron MacGregor, demanding to know if it were true. Verasa denied it, as strongly and persuasively as she could, but she knew the Baron hadn’t believed her.

  The Mistress of the Werewolves was privately unrepentant. If she hadn’t managed to slip a debilitating potion into Wallace’s drink before the fight, he’d have beaten Markus, and quite possibly killed him. She couldn’t allow that to happen. She never expected that anyone would learn of it.

  Damn that Teinn! she thought. Markus would be beside himself with fury when he learned about it. At least he’s alive. Which he wouldn’t have been if he’d gone to London.

  Verasa’s thoughts turned to Thrix. She hadn’t expected that the attack would continue once Markus had withdrawn. Unfortunately, Thrix would not be dissuaded. The Mistress of the Werewolves felt a mother’s terror that she might lose another child. And there was Kalix. She’d been forbidden to go, but Verasa feared she’d turn up anyway.

  I tried to modernize the clan, she thought. I wanted us to manage without all this fighting. Now I’m losing my children in a war.

  She sighed, very deeply, and drank more wine. She lit a cigarette, and sat alone in her chambers, very unhappy. Even though her thoughts were mainly for her children, she worried about the other MacRinnalchs who’d gone to London: Eskandor, Feargan and Barra. She hadn’t expected that either, but when Thrix and Dominil had carried on anyway, Eskandor and the others had followed. Wallace MacGregor too, apparently. No doubt he was trying to show Markus up by letting everyone know how brave he was.

  “Markus has left his bed. He’s on his way here.”

  Verasa nodded. The servant withdrew.

  At least I have one healthy child left, thought Verasa. She was not looking forward to the encounter, but was comforted by the thought that no matter what anyone said, her favorite child was still alive, and not lying dead in London.

  CHAPTER 173

  “Mighty Queen,” said Grand Physician Idrigal. “I have stabilized the white werewolf and the young werewolf. The large werewolf is recovering. I can do nothing for the red werewolf, and I can’t sustain my existence in this realm any longer.”

  “I need you to stay,” said the Fire Queen. “I’ll lend you some power.” Malveria extended her arm, pointing at Idrigal. Nothing happened. She had no power to lend. Idrigal faded from sight. The Fire Queen looked round her in frustration.

  “Really, Thrix, next time someone points a machine gun at you, I advise you to take cover.”

  Thrix lay beside a pile of silver fragments. She was breathing heavily and still in pain, but was now out of danger. Kalix and Dominil were safe for a little while, though they would need more attention soon. Both lay with their eyes closed, unlike Sarapen, who was conscious of events around him.

  “Do you need assistance?” asked the Fire Queen.

  “I’m fine,” growled Sarapen.

  The blood on Decembrius’s chest had now congealed into a thick, ugly stain. The Queen frowned as she knelt down to examine him.

  “This one has almost reached the Forests of the Werewolf Dead.” She put her hand on his forehead. “Though he has halted his journey.” Her frown deepened as she continued her examination.

  Moonglow was still anxious about Kalix. She reached over to shake Vex awake.

  “Go away I’m sore,” muttered Vex.

  “Kalix needs more help,” said Moonglow.

  “I hurt too much.”

  “You have to do something!”

  Vex dragged herself from the couch. “It feels really bad doing this when you can’t do it properly.”

  Vex put her mouth close to Kalix’s lips and attempted to breathe some energy into her. Kalix was still deathly pale, but Moonglow thought there was a tiny improvement.

  “Thrix,” called the Fire Queen. “There is a problem with Decembrius. There is a silver bullet lodged so close to his heart that I fear to move it. If it touches his heart, he will die.”

  “Can’t you magic it away?” asked Daniel.

  “If you mean make it disappear, no I can’t. It needs to be drawn out. But the bullet may come apart. I really cannot remove it without some fragment touching his heart.”

  The Fire Queen attempted to stand up, then, realizing how weak she was, thought better of it. “I’m sorry, Thrix. In a little while I may have enough power to help Dominil and Kalix. But I can do nothing for Decembrius.”

  Dominil, hearing this, opened her eyes. “Doctor Angus,” she said. “Perhaps he could take it out with surgery. He has an operating theater in Edinburgh.”

  Angus MacRinnalch was an experienced surgeon who had often helped his fellow werewolves. In the course of his long career, he’d removed many silver bullets.

  “He has a werewolf nurse and an anesthetist. They might be able to save him,” said Thrix.

  “Someone help me with my phone,” said Dominil. Daniel found Dominil’s phone and put it in her hand.

  “I’ll tell the Mistress of the Werewolves to alert Doctor Angus.”

  “Angus is in Edinburgh,” said Thrix. Like Dominil, she was lying on the floor, looking at the ceiling, and the conversation was conducted in whispers. “How is Decembrius going to get there?”

  “I hoped the Fire Queen could transport him.”

  “You may not have noticed that I am also lying on the floor,” said the Fire Queen. “I don’t have the power to stand, let alone transport an ailing werewolf.”

  The room fell silent. If the Fire Queen couldn’t transport Decembrius to Edinburgh he was going to die.

  “Vex, don’t you have any power left?” asked Moonglow

  Vex was now lying on her side, hugging a cushion and whimpering.

  “Apparently not,” said Daniel.

  “I do have one suggestion,” said Malveria, from the floor. “I am drained, but there are two people here with some vitality.”

  “Do you mean us?” asked Moonglow.

  “Indeed, young humans. If you permit me to take power from you, I may have sufficient energy to transport Decembrius to Edinburgh. And may I say, Thrix, that a new winter wardrobe is far from sufficient for this service.”

  “What do you mean, take power from us?” said Daniel, sounding worried.

  “Your life force. Human life force is not remarkably strong, but you are a healt
hy pair of teenagers. Your energy may take me to Edinburgh.”

  “Our energy? Will we die?”

  “Almost certainly not. But you will feel bad.”

  “How bad?” asked Daniel.

  “Much worse than you have ever felt.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “The MacRinnalchs will be very grateful,” said Thrix, quietly.

  Moonglow looked at Kalix, who was still unconscious. “We should do it, I suppose. Decembrius is a friend of Kalix.”

  “Didn’t they have a lot of arguments?” said Daniel. “Maybe she’d rather just let him go?”

  Moonglow looked at Daniel pointedly.

  “All right,” he sighed. “Fine. Suck out my life force. It’s not doing me that much good anyway.”

  Malveria raised herself to a sitting position. She pointed one hand at Daniel and one at Moonglow. A blue flame appeared on each of their chests. The flames grew, and fire flowed toward Malveria.

  The Fire Queen smiled. “Human energy. And human thoughts and emotions.”

  “Don’t read my thoughts,” said Daniel.

  Malveria laughed. “Why Daniel, I am one of the universe’s great beauties. It would be strange if you had never had any fantasies about me.”

  “I deny it,” said Daniel. Then he went quiet, as a terrible numbing cold entered his body. Both he and Moonglow became paler and paler. They shivered as Malveria took their energy.

  “Stop it,” cried Daniel, as he slumped to the ground.

  “Just a little more,” said Malveria.

  Moonglow began to cry as she felt her life energy being sucked from her, to be replaced by a freezing cold which felt impossible to bear. Malveria rose to her feet.

  “Better than I expected,” she said. “You are quite a healthy pair, for students. Thrix, I will now take Decembrius to your werewolf doctor.” Malveria paused, and briefly touched both Kalix and Dominil, healing them a little more. Then she snapped her fingers and dematerialized, taking Decembrius with her. After she had gone the room was silent, save for the moaning of Moonglow and Daniel, who were both feeling much worse than they’d ever felt before, as promised by the Fire Queen.