“But what then?” asked Rainal. “You can’t keep postponing meetings.”
“By the time of the following full moon I’ll have enough votes to declare Markus Thane.”
“The longer we wait,” pointed out Rainal. “The more time Sarapen has to dispose of his enemies.”
“I know. But I can’t bring Markus to the castle just now.”
Rainal nodded. It was a delicate subject. He knew that Verasa regretted her second son’s lack of strength.
Tupan was wholly in agreement with Verasa’s decision to cancel the next council meeting. He even suggested to the Mistress of the Werewolves that she expel Sarapen from the clan. After all, Sarapen had committed violence against other council members. Verasa was tempted, though she held off from taking this drastic step, still feeling that she could procure a vote in favour of Markus. Once that was done, everyone would fall into line. Postponing the meeting gave her another five weeks in which to work. By then Markus’s health would have improved and the twins might have been persuaded. That left her needing only one more vote, and she hadn’t been idle. She was still working on Dulupina and Kurian.
Verasa transmitted her decision to postpone the next meeting. It brought polite but concerned responses from Barons MacPhee and MacGregor. The new Baron MacAllister, busy burying his older brother, did not reply. Sarapen sent a cold response through Decembrius. It was illegal, he said, to postpone the next meeting, and Sarapen would come to the castle if he chose.
An odd report had come back from Colburn Wood. Two of those who fought there were quite certain that as they struggled with the MacAllisters near the river, they had caught the scent of Hiyastas. This was hard to believe. It was the very last place you would expect to find them. Verasa made a mental note to ask Thrix about it. Perhaps she could enlighten her.
150
Dominil limped back to the twins’ house in the early evening. She had been walking the streets for several hours and her injured leg was very painful. The sisters were lying on the couch watching old videos on VH1. As Dominil entered the room they were hurling abuse at Van Halen.
“I have found you a gig,” said Dominil.
The twins were so excited that they sat up.
“Where?”
“The King’s Head.”
The King’s Head was a good venue, very suitable. An old pub now converted into a rock venue, the room upstairs where bands played was busy most nights of the week. It was one of the places Dominil had tried to book before, with no success.
“How did you do it?”
“I threatened the manager,” replied Dominil.
“Really?”
The twins were impressed, and pleased. The manager of the King’s Head deserved to be threatened. He had once banned them from his establishment for very little reason.
It wasn’t true that Dominil had threatened him, though she would have if necessary. She had actually bribed the promoter who looked after Wednesday nights at the venue, using Verasa’s money. It had been easy enough and was something she’d have done before had the sisters not been so anxious to avoid any accusations of buying their way to success. However, after making enquiries, Dominil had learned that bribing a promoter was not particularly unusual. It did not place the twins outside the norms of behaviour for any small band making a start. But she let the twins believe she’d threatened the manager, knowing they’d like that better.
“When is it?”
“About five weeks from now. Wednesday the fourteenth.”
The twins grumbled about playing on a Wednesday. It wasn’t the best night for attracting people to see an unknown band. Dominil pointed out that it had been hard enough to find anything. Besides, the fourteenth was two nights before the full moon, which meant it was the last night they could play. On the wolf nights of Thursday, Friday and Saturday, they’d be in werewolf shape.
“Couldn’t we have played after the full moon?” wondered Delicious.
“No,” replied Dominil, but didn’t offer an explanation. The Mistress of the Werewolves had cancelled the next council meeting. But at the meeting after that, in five weeks’ time, Verasa believed she’d be able to secure Markus’s election, if the twins voted. There was no chance of them doing that unless they were so grateful to Dominil for helping them that they’d be willing to travel to the castle. This meant that the twins had to play some time in the next five weeks. Dominil had this clear in her mind, though she was not yet pressuring them to vote. She’d leave that until she’d made more progress.
“Tomorrow I will make a start on publicity and whatever else needs to be done. You will rehearse at the new studio.”
With that Dominil left them, heading upstairs to her room to rest. The twins were already on the phone, bragging to their friends about their gig. Afterwards they went out to celebrate and had one of the most satisfying and raucous nights they’d had for months.
Dominil had not forgotten about Kalix rescuing her. She’d been surprised to find herself lectured on the topic by Beauty and Delicious. When the twins learned that Kalix had saved Dominil, quite heroically, they’d been disappointed to learn that Dominil had not been more effusive in her thanks.
“Shouldn’t you buy her a present or something?”
“A present? Why?”
“To say thanks, idiot. She fought some fierce werewolves to save you.”
“I would do the same for her,” protested Dominil.
The sisters weren’t impressed.
“You really take this cold emotionless thing way too far, Dominil. Send her a present.”
151
“There’s a fire elemental here to see you,” announced Decembrius.
“A Hiyasta?”
“No, a Hainusta. Princess Kabachetka. Shall I send her away?”
“No. Send her in.”
The Princess walked very coolly into the room. She was dressed in a coat that would feature on the cover of next month’s Vanity Fair; a small fashion coup, which Sarapen could not appreciate.
Before visiting Sarapen the Princess had learned what she could of him. From what the Merchant told her, he was not a werewolf who was keen on small talk, so she came straight to the point.
“You approached the Merchant for sorcerous assistance?”
“I did.”
“The sorcery you require to protect you from the eyes of the Werewolf Enchantress and Queen Malveria could not be worked by you or anyone you know. The spells are too complicated and need an experienced hand to set them in place.”
Sarapen looked at her in silence, waiting.
“I will assist you with this,” continued the Princess.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m their enemy.”
Sarapen nodded.
“Please take a seat,” he said, brusquely but politely.
Sarapen hadn’t noticed Kabachetka’s exquisite coat or her exquisite shoes. Her dazzling blonde hair and red lips made no impression on him at all. However he was very interested in anything that might give him an advantage over the Enchantress.
152
Kalix was excited. The cable company was coming to connect their TV. She rose early and paced the living room. She felt some anxiety but not the sort of anxiety that drove her mad, more a kind of anxiety that made her want to talk all the time.
“Do you think they’ll come? What if they can’t find our house? What if Moonglow’s changed her mind? What if it doesn’t work? Do you think they’re still showing Sabrina? Is SpongeBob still on? Where are they, shouldn’t they be here now?”
Kalix hurried to the window to scan the street.
“Relax,” said Daniel, who was taking the day off college to supervise the installation. “You can rely on a cable company. They never let you down.”
Moonglow had refused to stay home for the installation. Though she’d acceded to Kalix’s request and told her mother she would accept the gift, she wasn’t about to change her life for a TV company.
> “I’m going in to college.”
“Thanks for the TV!” said Kalix.
“You tricked me,” replied Moonglow.
Moonglow wasn’t really that upset. Kalix seemed so much better these days that she was prepared to compromise a little to keep her happy. It was now three weeks since the last full moon. During that time Kalix had several times assumed her werewolf shape, and eaten. Afterwards she’d vomited, but less, and on two occasions, not at all. Her food intake still seemed frighteningly small but she wasn’t fainting and fading away as she had been before the last full moon. It all seemed like a great improvement. Since being universally praised for rescuing Dominil, Kalix had become more settled. Now that Moonglow had agreed to the TV request, Kalix had even been smiling.
Kalix had a new book in her room, a rock yearbook from 1979. It had several large pictures of the Runaways, and an interview with the band. Dominil had bought it on eBay, and posted it to Kalix as a thank you for her efforts on her behalf. Kalix was fascinated, and slept with it beside her. It was the first new Runaways item she’d had for years. Encouraged by having a new book, she continued to play reading games on Moonglow’s computer and was making progress.
Moonglow headed off to college. She wasn’t about to wait in for cable engineers. There again, she wasn’t actually going to college either. She was on her way to meet Markus, something she’d decided not to mention to Daniel. Or to Jay, with whom she was, of course, still in a relationship.
Kalix looked out the window for the tenth time. Now she was worried.
“Shouldn’t they be here by now? Maybe they can’t find our house, you know it’s quite hard to find if you haven’t been here before. Why is this house so hard to find? It’s stupid. Why aren’t they here yet?”
Kalix suddenly felt unwell and had to sit down.
“What’s wrong?” asked Daniel, concerned.
“I don’t know. I’m sick.”
“Your not sick, you’re hyperventilating. You’re getting overexcited. Calm down.”
Kalix felt distressed at this unfamiliar feeling. It was so rare for her to feel excited about anything good that it began to make her uncomfortable. The excitement reminded her of the anxiety she felt over bad things, and she started to feel confused.
“Tell the cable men not to come,” she said, and looked worried. “I don’t want to see them.”
Daniel realised what was happening. He sat down beside her and took her hand.
“Don’t worry. This is good. Cable TV arrives at the end of it.”
Kalix was a little comforted but still didn’t feel right. It was difficult, when her feelings became mixed up. Good feelings seemed to bring on bad feelings.
“You should be feeling great,” said Daniel, reassuringly. “It was a brilliant plan to change into a wolf and lick Moonglow’s face.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment.
“What happens to your clothes? How come they disappear when you become a werewolf and reappear when you change back?”
Kalix shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Don’t you wonder about it?”
“Not really. Thrix says it’s something to do with the mystical origin and nature of the MacRinnalchs. I don’t think even she really understands it. We just take it for granted.”
The doorbell rang.
“The cable guys are here!” shouted Daniel, and rushed downstairs to answer the door, with Kalix close behind him.
153
Moonglow stood in the foyer of the Tate Modern, waiting for Markus.
‘I’m dating a werewolf,’ she thought. ‘Can I tell Alicia that? No, definitely not. Is this a bad idea? I’m meant to be going out with Jay. It’s all going to end in disaster. I should end it.’
Moonglow’s doubts disappeared as Markus walked into the foyer. He wore a long black coat of perfect cut. Under the coat he wore a delicate peach coloured blouse, a woman’s garment, though shaped to fit him. He’d let his hair hang loose around his shoulders and some stray curls hung over his forehead. His skin was pale and clear, his eyes were large and dark and his face was quite beautiful. As he strode into the foyer everyone stared. Not only was Markus beautiful, he was extremely charismatic. Several women, walking by with their partners, simply abandoned their men and edged forward, wanting to get closer.
‘I’m going out with Lord Byron,’ thought Moonglow, with pleasure.
He kissed her lightly on the cheek. Moonglow glowed with happiness.
“So,” said Markus, and smiled, very faintly. “Convince me about this place.”
“Don’t you like it?”
The Tate Modern was housed in a converted power station on the south bank of the Thames. The conversion of the old building into a modern gallery had been widely acclaimed. The first room was magnificent in itself, a vast space where the old turbines had been.
“I like the building,” said Markus. “I’m not sure about the contents.”
The gallery only housed art from the late nineteenth century to the present. Much of it was still strange to the public, and controversial.
“Mother has tried to show an interest but nothing is going to convince her that an installation made out of twisted metal is the equivalent of her favourite Titian.”
Moonglow noted how Markus, Thrix and Kalix always said mother. It sounded curiously formal.
“So do you only like art your mother likes?”
Moonglow was surprised to find herself teasing Markus. Despite being awe-struck by his beauty there was something about him that made her feel comfortable enough to do that. Markus smiled.
“I hope not. Take me to the installations.”
As they headed upstairs to the first series of galleries, Moonglow wasn’t thinking much about art. She took Markus’s arm, pressed herself closely to him, and felt madly in love.
154
Two nights before the full moon, Gawain was patrolling the streets of Kennington. It was almost November and the winter had turned very cold. He had now rented a small room, over towards Camberwell; close enough to make patrolling convenient, far enough away for him not to encounter Kalix accidentally. Gawain generally retained his human shape while patrolling the streets but sometimes, late at night, he’d take on his werewolf form and swiftly climb to the rooftops. He sat now, high up on top of a tenement block on one of the old estates. To his right was the Oval cricket ground. On his left were the small streets that led to Kalix’s house.
He spied two small figures down below. They were too far away to make out their faces but Gawain recognised Kalix immediately, with her old coat and her long hair trailing past her waist. She was accompanied by a girl he didn’t know, with spiky blonde hair and large boots. Kalix and her companion went into the only shop on the street below which was still open, an off-licence. Gawain stayed on the rooftops, not wanting to come close enough for Kalix to scent him. His heart was pounding. He had an overpowering urge to confront her, to tell her he loved her. Before he could give this much thought Gawain became aware that there was someone else abroad on this cold night. Further along the street, a figure was lurking in the shadows.
Kalix and the blonde-haired girl emerged from the shop, each with a carrier bag. From above Gawain could hear the clinking of bottles as they hurried home. He glanced along the street to see if the anyone emerged from the shadows. Someone did. It was the man who’d once looked into his eyes and known him for a werewolf. Gawain slipped over the edge of the roof and swung himself onto the balcony of the highest flat, heading for street level as fast as he could. By the time he reached the road below, Kalix had disappeared from sight and the stocky man was some distance away. Gawain hurried after him. He took care not to let himself be seen but he didn’t appreciate the experience of the man he was dealing with. As Gawain turned a corner the hunter emerged suddenly from a doorway. Gawain halted, frowning. There was something about this he didn’t like.
Mr Mikulanec walked towards him.
He took a knife from inside his jacket. This was curious. No knife wielded by a human was going to seriously damage a strong werewolf like Gawain. The man muttered a few words and the blade glowed faintly. Gawain’s eyes were drawn towards it. There were symbols etched on the knife. Fascinating symbols. He watched as they drew nearer. Suddenly the knife was heading for his chest. Shocked into action, Gawain vaulted backwards. Realising he was being attacked by some sort of sorcery, he tried not to focus on the knife but even being near to it seemed to bring on confusion. Mikulanec advanced with surprising speed for such a stocky man. Gawain leapt away again, scrambling on top of a bus shelter and placing himself out of reach. Never before had Gawain had to flee from a hunter.
“You think you’re safe on top of the bus shelter, werewolf?”
Mikulanec grinned, and pointed the knife.
“This will bring you down.”
Gawain felt his strength draining away. He knew now what the man carried. A Begravar knife. Gawain’s great-great-grandfather had brought such a knife back to Scotland. He hadn’t known that another one existed. It seemed like it might be the last thing he ever learned in this world.
On the verge of passing out, Gawain roused himself with a tremendous mental effort. He howled furiously and leapt directly at Mikulanec, using all his willpower to break through the knife’s mystic shield. Mikulanec slashed with the blade and it caught Gawain’s arm. It caused no more than a scratch but Gawain felt as if he’d been hit by a volley of silver bullets. His arm burned then went dead. He lashed out desperately, catching Mikulanec with his claw. The blow sent Mikulanec backwards into the bus shelter but even so, he didn’t fall. He raised the knife in front of him. Gawain knew he couldn’t break through the weapon’s sorcery again. If he stayed here he would certainly die. He turned on his heel and fled, taking the hunter away from the direction in which Kalix had gone.