“Thrix. I keep remembering something I read in one of your magazines. Vogue, I think, which has made me so happy since you procured for me a - what was the word - subscription? This article was about a designer who always worked hard. It contained a phrase I had never seen before. Work Ethic, I believe.”
“And?”
“And I think this is something you suffer from.”
The Fire Queen was entertained by the thought.
“Because really, my wonderful Enchantress, you could use your sorcerous powers to speed up much of this work. I’m sure you could have fixed your piping difficulties with a wave of your hand.”
The Enchantress looked wary.
“But you don’t use your sorcery nearly as much as you could. Is this because you must work? Do you suffer from this thing called work ethic?”
“Though there’s nothing wrong with a little hard work,” said Thrix, and tossed her golden hair a little.
The Fire Queen laughed. She could be shrewd when she chose to be. She had an amusing vision of Thrix’s mother telling the young werewolf that a proper daughter of the Thane should work hard, and not rely on sorcery to sort out her problems.
12
The Mistress of the Werewolves and the Thane had been married for a very long time, and Verasa was long past the stage of wishing to be in her husband’s presence every day. She travelled south regularly, although on the three nights a month when she was obliged to transform into full werewolf shape, London was not the easiest place to be. A MacRinnalch werewolf as pure-blooded as Verasa could transform at will any night, but on the night of the full moon and the two nights that surrounded it, there was no choice. The change was automatic.
Of course, Verasa never completely lost control. It would be unseemly. But even such a powerful and disciplined figure as Verasa could find it sorely tempting to rush out into the night-time streets when the wolfness came on, and give in to the desire to hunt for food.
Some werewolves did just that. The clan discouraged them from taking on werewolf wolf form next to any populated area. These days, it did not pay to go around killing humans any more than was absolutely necessary. With today’s modern communications and the all pervading media, any mysterious killings would soon be investigated by the police. Worse than that, it would attract the attention of the Avenaris Guild, the hated hunters who made it their mission in life to kill werewolves. The MacRinnalch Clan, with its wealth and power, did not fear the police, or the Guild, but there was no point in attracting unnecessary attention. One must adapt to the modern world, as Verasa often said. She herself could hardly remember when she had last killed anyone. More than thirty years ago, certainly.
Verasa and her younger son Markus sat next to each other on a gilded couch, sipping wine from silver goblets. As mother and son, they were very close. Too close perhaps, by human standards, though not necessarily by the norms of werewolf society.
“Poor Kalix,” sighed the Mistress of the Werewolves. “How did she manage to make such a mess of her life in only seventeen years?”
“I never thought it was wise to have another child when you were two hundred and thirty years old,” said Markus.
“A little older, actually. But it was your father’s idea, dear. He wanted another child. At the time he had just agreed to cede the estates in Argyll to my side of the family so I did not wish to start an argument. Unwise perhaps, in retrospect. Kalix has been a terrible burden.”
“We have to find her before Sarapen does.”
The Mistress of the Werewolves frowned at the mention of her eldest son.
“Quite why your father favours him so much I can’t imagine.”
“He always has,” said Markus, with something approaching loathing.
“I do so regret that. You’ve always been a much nicer son. More wine?”
Markus accepted the goblet.
“Great Mother Dulupina has been baying for Kalix’s blood ever since she attacked the Thane. Nothing will satisfy her but that someone brings her back to the castle.”
Dulupina was the Thane’s mother. As Mistress of the Werewolves, Verasa outranked her, but Dulupina was very important to the clan and couldn’t be ignored. She was aged, venerable and influential, and had a seat on the Great Council.
“If only Kalix could have stayed hidden.”
Kalix had been found guilty of assaulting the Thane. She’d fled from the castle while awaiting sentence. By the traditions of the clan it was now legal for another werewolf to kill her, and bring back her heart. Verasa suspected that Sarapen intended to do just that. At least if Verasa herself were to find Kalix, she could be taken back to the castle and incarcerated, till another solution was found.
“You should bring her back,” she said to Markus.
13
When the two frightening strangers invaded her house Moonglow shrank back against the wall, too terrified even to scream. Duncan Douglas-MacPhee and his sister Rhona ignored her. They headed straight towards Kalix, and there began a violent scene the like of which neither Moonglow nor Daniel had ever seen.
Rhona wore a leather waistcoat which showed off the tattoo of a snarling wolf on her shoulder, and she was very strong. Werewolves always were, even in their human form. She tried to grab hold of Kalix. Kalix lashed out with her foot, catching Rhona on the chest with a kick which flung her clear across the table. It seemed to Moonglow that no one could really perform such a kick. It belonged in a kung fu film, not here in her living room. Yet Kalix immediately did it again, sending Duncan flying backwards into one of Moonglow’s carefully packed boxes of plates, which crashed to the floor with a great noise of smashing crockery.
Rising swiftly, Rhona leapt at Kalix. Kalix spun round but not quite quickly enough. Rhona smashed her fist into the side of her head sending the young werewolf stumbling across the floor. Duncan had now recovered and managed to grab hold of Kalix. They thudded against the table, knocking Kalix’s bag flying. It landed beside Daniel, who, like Moonglow, shrank back from the violence. Kalix bit her attacker’s wrist, forcing him to let go. Immediately she was free of his grasp. She used her forehead to butt him brutally in the face. He reeled backwards with blood spurting from his nose. Rhona moved in to attack but before she could land a blow Kalix caught her on the side of her neck with her open palm and she went down as if struck by a bullet.
Just for a second, Kalix sagged. Her energy was fading fast. She made an effort to pull herself together but it was too late. The Douglas-MacPhees were a savage family and Duncan was not put off by his bloodied nose. He stepped up behind Kalix and rammed his forearm into the back of her head. She fell at his feet. Duncan kicked her, then took his machete from under his coat. Daniel tried to wail in terror but nothing came out. Moonglow then did something she had never done in her life before, which was to offer violence to a fellow living creature. As Duncan Douglas-MacPhee bent over Kalix, she picked up a chair, rushed up behind him and hit him over the head with it as hard as she could. The heavy blow sent him crumpling to the floor. There was a long pause. Daniel looked at Moonglow.
“I can’t believe you did that,” he said.
Kalix hauled herself to her feet. She was tired and sore, trembling from the exertion of the fight. Moonglow and Daniel stared at her, waited for her to offer some words of explanation but nothing was forthcoming. Moonglow wondered who this strange girl was, with her skinny frame, her long dirty hair, and her incredible fighting skills.
“You want to eh… tell us what this is about?”
“My brother’s werewolves are after me,” said Kalix.
Daniel and Moonglow looked at each other again.
“Maybe you’re taking this werewolf thing too far,” said Moonglow, trying not to sound unfriendly.
Outside the moon had risen and the moment it did Duncan opened his eyes and began to transform.
“I mean, people call me a hippy,” continued Moonglow. “Well some people call me a Goth, what with the black clothes and black nai
l varnish - a bit of a Goth hippy I suppose - but I know it’s no good living in a fantasy world.”
Behind Moonglow, Duncan, in werewolf form, was rising from the floor. Daniel tried to warn his friend but was too startled to speak.
“And it’s no use blaming your problems on so-called werewolves,” said Moonglow, and gave Kalix a supportive smile, to show that she wasn’t being harsh. Duncan, now a large werewolf, strode past her. Moonglow screamed.
Night had now fallen. Kalix could transform, which she did instantly. As a werewolf she remained the same height. She still walked on two legs. But she was shaggy, bestial, and savage. She was covered in long hair and while her body still resembled something human, her face was fully animal and her hands were great taloned claws.
Strength flowed back into her fatigued muscles. As a werewolf, she was stronger than Duncan Douglas-MacPhee. As a werewolf, Kalix feared no one. It wasn’t just Kalix’s strength that made her such a fearsome opponent. It was her battle-madness. It made her ferocious and brutal, uncaring of pain, oblivious to danger. When Kalix’s battle-madness took over her werewolf form, she became insane. She could not be stopped other than by death, and no one had ever come close to killing her.
She leapt at Duncan and overwhelmed him. Duncan knew he was defeated and retreated swiftly, fending off his wild opponent as best as he could, trying to prevent her from fastening her jaws round his neck. His sister Rhona hauled herself off the floor but when she saw that her brother was beaten she made for the door. The Douglas-MacPhees fled, blood dripping from their wounds.
Kalix stopped. Daniel and Moonglow looked at her wide eyed with amazement, and terror, and wondered if she was about to kill them.
“You really are a…”
Kalix’s form seemed to flicker and she slowly transformed back into her human shape. The contents of Kalix’s bag had spilled out on the floor. Daniel tried to gather up her belongings.
“You dropped this,” he said, picking up a dark, old-fashioned bottle.
“Give me!” yelled Kalix, and frantically snatched it from him.
Moonglow picked up a packet from the floor. She read the label.
“You take diazepam?”
Kalix became angry. “Stop looking at everything!”
“Well it’s just a bit weird you know,” said Moonglow. “Werewolf… anti-depressants.”
“Aren’t you focusing on the wrong thing here?” said Daniel. “Remember the terrible violence.”
“I have to go,” said Kalix, but she was too worn-out to leave. Her head swam and she slumped heavily into the chair.
Daniel was nervous. “Is there going to be more violence? I’m really not keen on - ”
“They won’t come back,” replied Kalix. “Not tonight.”
Moonglow was overcome by sympathy for the young werewolf with her thin little body and ragged clothes, probably homeless, pursued by killers.
“Do you want some food? We don’t have any meat… we have pop-tarts.”
Kalix shook her head wearily. She put her arms round her meagre possessions and her head drooped. Against her will, she fell asleep in a house of strangers.
14
The cousins about whom the family did not speak were something of a disgrace to the MacRinnalchs. Quite possibly a disgrace to werewolves everywhere. Beauty’s lip-piercing alone was enough to make her Aunt Verasa shudder. As for Delicious, her blue hair dye had scandalised the family and almost got her expelled from her expensive private school.
Beauty and Delicious were twins, the only children of Marwis, the Thane’s youngest brother who had died some years ago in a plane crash. As Marwis’s wife was also long dead, the twins were left parentless. They coped with this bravely, and some years later arrived in London a pair of cheerful, drunken, drug-taking degenerates who had started abusing their bodies when they were young and carried on happily ever since. After accidentally burning down the family home in Scotland they had decided it was time to seek new challenges and had moved south to start a band and see what fun they could have. Now twenty-two, the twins spent most of their time in an alcohol-induced haze in their house in Camden in North London, listening to music and practising guitar. Although full-blooded members of the MacRinnalch ruling family, it was years since either of them had voluntarily turned into a werewolf. They had long forgotten how to do it, though they still enjoyed the monthly full moon transformation which came on automatically. Then, for three nights they would get hideously intoxicated and run through the streets howling and laughing.
To the family’s great displeasure, the twin sisters had a large private income, the inheritance from their father’s estate. Bolstered by this, they flatly refused to move back to Scotland. Much as the Thane and Verasa might like to drag them back to the family estates, there was no way to do it short of kidnapping. The family had considered this. The disgrace of Beauty and Delicious could not be allowed to continue indefinitely.
The state of the werewolf younger generation had caused the Thane and Verasa some distress. Although, in truth, there were a great many of the MacRinnalch Clan still upholding the traditional ways. There were many who lived on the family lands as upright citizens, turning into werewolf form only occasionally, mainly to hunt deer. If the occasional human was killed on their lands, it was only to be expected. Tourists were notoriously careless.
Verasa’s younger sister Lucia, who also lived in the castle, still defended the cousins on occasion.
“At least they’re only drunks,” she pointed out to Verasa, more than once. “They’ve never really harmed anyone.”
By which Lucia meant that the cousins about whom they did not speak weren’t criminally insane like Kalix. Verasa refused to go along with this. Beauty and Delicious were a disgrace to the family. The Mistress of the Werewolves regretted that they had been so frequently at Castle MacRinnalch in their childhood. Verasa always suspected that they had been a very bad influence on her youngest daughter.
15
Kalix slept in the chair. She appeared peaceful. Occasionally she would mutter a few inaudible words. Daniel and Moonglow looked at her from the far side of the room. Having seen her astonishing powers they were wary of getting too close.
“She looks so small. Sort of pathetic,” said Moonglow.
“And yet only recently she was kung fu-ing opponents round the room.”
Daniel shuddered. He’d been stunned by the viciousness of Kalix’s fighting. The head-butt to her opponent’s face had been particularly brutal.
“I really don’t want to meet any more werewolves.”
“Lucky we’re moving tonight.”
“Are we going to let her stay?” asked Daniel.
“Of course. We can’t throw her out,” said Moonglow.
Moonglow was such a kind soul. It was one of the things Daniel liked about her. That and her pretty face, her long black hair and the really attractive nose stud. It was a much more discreet piece of facial jewellery than Kalix’s large nose ring. Though Daniel was keen to agree with Moonglow about most things, he couldn’t help being nervous about having a savage werewolf slumbering in his favourite chair.
“It might be best to… you know… encourage her to leave.”
“Certainly not.” Moonglow was indignant. “Imagine you were a homeless young werewolf and other werewolves were trying to kill you. How would you like it?”
“I guess it might drive me to diazepam.”
“I still think that’s weird,” said Moonglow. “If I ever met an other-worldly creature, I wasn’t expecting it to be having treatment for depression.”
“Where would she get the pills?” wondered Daniel. “Do you think they have werewolf psychiatrists?”
Daniel mused about this for a while, then wondered why he was talking about werewolves as if they were an everyday occurrence. Kalix murmured in her sleep again, slightly louder this time.
“Gawain… banished…”
With that she woke up, and looked at them suspicio
usly. Without speaking, she leapt from the chair and headed for the door.
“You don’t have to go - ” said Moonglow, and stretched out a friendly arm. Kalix growled fiercely at her. Startled, Moonglow stepped back. Kalix departed.
“Personal space issues,” said Daniel. “It’s probably a werewolf thing.”
Moonglow gazed out the window at the rain, rather hoping that the werewolf might change her mind, and come back, but there was no sign of her. Eventually they got back to packing up their belongings.
Kalix spent the rest of the night in an alleyway, cold and wet. As the long minutes ticked past, she fell into a great pit of unhappiness. The depression with which she always struggled took hold of her. Kalix sipped some laudanum. Her supply was almost gone, and she didn’t have enough money to buy more.
The laudanum dulled the pain in her body but it wasn’t enough to take away her misery. She took another of her diazepam capsules. It still wasn’t enough. The depression led, as it often did, to a terrible feeling of anxiety which she hated. Once the anxiety really set in Kalix always feared that she would soon be insane. When it had her in its grip, she always felt it would never go away. Finally, unable to take any more, Kalix took out the small kitchen knife she carried in her bag. She stared at her forearm for a few seconds then made a cut just above her elbow. Blood flowed down her arm. Kalix immediately felt a little better. She didn’t really know why, but this always helped. Comforted, she managed to drift off to sleep.
She slept fitfully, with bad dreams. She had terrifying images of her family and distressing memories of Gawain.