“How can you just desert her like this?”
“I’m not deserting her.”
“You are.”
“Moonglow. Does it mean anything to you that I don’t want to be chopped up with a machete or eaten by a werewolf? Does this have any bearing on things at all?”
“Of course. I don’t want you to be chopped up or eaten. I’d miss you terribly.”
“Really? You’d miss me terribly?”
“Of course.”
Daniel was pleased to hear Moonglow say he’d miss him. Not wanting to spoil her good opinion of him, he found himself agreeing to the plan, against his better judgement. Just then one of Moonglow’s friends, a girl called Alicia, appeared at their side.
“What you looking at?” she asked, seeing the MacBook.
“Shoes,” answered Daniel. “Isn’t it ridiculous having shoes that cost £500?”
“No,” said Alicia. “Not for shoes as beautiful as that. I’d buy them if I had the money.” She looked at Daniel as if he was a man who didn’t understand the important things in life. Daniel was crushed. Yet again he had failed to impress one of Moonglow’s friends. It was unfair. Who ever knew the right thing to say to them? Later in the day, when Moonglow’s boyfriend Jay arrived and, openly and in public, kissed her on the lips, Daniel found himself thinking that being ripped to shreds by savage werewolves might not be all that bad.
24
Thrix Fashions had its headquarters in Wardour Street, in Soho, in the heart of London. Though the door at street level was discreet, Thrix Fashions occupied all of the third and fourth floors, where Daniel and Moonglow now sat in a reception room. Daniel had been secretly hoping that he might find himself surrounded by young models but he was disappointed. Here in Thrix’s suite of offices there were no models, though the people who did walk by - designers perhaps - were attractive enough to make Daniel feel shabby and out of place, in his baggy student doom-metal-fan clothes. Moonglow, in her customary gothic garb of long black skirt and black top, looked even more out of place.
Thrix’s assistant Ann arrived and spoke to them brusquely.
“This way.”
Daniel and Moonglow trooped after her. She ushered them into an office so coolly and expensively furnished, in which sat a woman so elegant, that Daniel immediately felt intimidated. Faced with this female he knew he would be unable to say a single sensible word and wished he was back in the student bar.
Thrix eyed them coldly.
“Well?” she said, finally.
Moonglow and Daniel stood there in silence. Now that they were actually here, it didn’t seem all that easy to raise the subject of werewolves. Thrix looked impatient.
“You told my assistant you needed to speak to me about an important family matter. What is it?”
Moonglow had planned to work up to things gradually but the unfamiliar surroundings unsettled her. Instead of a calm discussion leading up to a possible question about the whereabouts of Kalix, Moonglow was horrified to find herself blurting out that the young werewolf girl needed help before her family killed her.
Thrix narrowed her eyes a fraction of an inch.
“Pardon?”
“Kalix. Your young sister. Her brother is trying to kill her and cut out her heart. You have to give her another pendant.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” responded Moonglow. “I can tell.”
‘She can, unfortunately,’ thought the Enchantress. ‘The girl has some powers of intuition.’ Thrix regarded them for a half minute longer, then leaned forward a few inches. She spoke coolly, showing no more emotion than she would while ordering a glass of wine.
“If you become involved with my family, you’ll die,” she said, and sat back in her chair.
“Eh…” said Daniel, and looked back at the door.
“But I will give you this opportunity to leave, and forget all about it,” continued Thrix, calmly.
“Okay,” said Daniel, clapping his hands together. “That’s good enough for me. We gave it our best shot.”
He grabbed Moonglow’s arm and started to retreat swiftly. Moonglow shook him off.
“We want to help,” she insisted.
“I’m quite serious about your deaths,” said Thrix, this time with just the slightest shade of emotion. Moonglow felt quite certain that inside this woman there was a werewolf of some power but she would not be put off.
“I gave her a bath. She was filthy and skinny and she hadn’t eaten for weeks and she had cuts and blood and ragged clothes and tranquillisers and murderous brothers trying to cut her heart out. She was a total mess and what sort of person are you that threatens to kill people who’re trying to help your sister?”
Daniel looked at Moonglow in amazement. Thrix was obviously angered. She spoke into the intercom.
“Hold my calls.”
25
The MacRinnalchs had two conflicting myths about their origins. One story said that the werewolf clan had been started by Gavur Rinnal at the time of the Roman occupation of Britain, two thousand years ago. According to this story, Gavur, after being badly wounded in battle with the Romans during their northernmost expedition into Scotland, at Cree, had ridden back to the hills and hidden in a cave, while the victorious Roman army combed the area. While hiding in the cave he had been visited by a Pictish medicine woman. She told him that she could save his life, though his life would never be the same again.
Gavur accepted her offer. His tribe had been all but wiped out at the battle of Cree and he yearned to take revenge. The Pictish healer put herbs on his wounds, and chanted a spell over him. Gavur Rinnal fell asleep. When he woke, he felt refreshed. At that moment two Roman soldiers entered the cave. Gavur flew at them and to his amazement he found himself rending their throats with his jaws. He had been transformed into a wolf. Gavur killed many of his enemies in the hills, and ever afterwards he retained the power of transforming into a wolf-like creature at will. From Gavur Rinnal and his wife, the whole MacRinnalch Clan was descended.
But another story said that the MacRinnalchs had come originally from Sumeria, from the same plains that saw the rise of the first cities ever built by men. They had emerged from the mists of prehistory among the people of Ur, formed by some strange mingling of beasts and men, when supernatural powers still walked the earth. From Ur the werewolves had spread through Mesopotamia, travelling west and north. Many had settled in Turkey and Southern France, but a few had travelled on, eventually crossing the English Channel and migrating northwards towards the isolated mountains and forests of Scotland. While werewolves had died out in many of the areas they used to inhabit, the MacRinnalch Clan had remained strong in the north.
No one knew which, if either, of these stories was true. However, it was certainly true that the MacRinnalchs could trace their historical ancestors as far back as the Great Grey Wolf himself, Avreg MacRinnalch, who fought against the Viking invaders in the latter part of the ninth century. Avreg was buried in Colburn Wood, and his broadsword was preserved in the museum at Castle MacRinnalch.
26
Thrix studied the young couple in front of her. She’d encountered humans before who seemed fascinated by her kind. Were these two like the others, looking to add some excitement to their lives by mingling with werewolves? Worse, might they be the type who actually wished to be transformed? Thrix hoped not. Such people usually had strange ideas about werewolves; romantic notions about prowling through forests and suchlike. Thrix had no interest in prowling through forests. Nor did she feel particularly in tune with nature. In London, nature rarely entered her life and that was fine with the cosmopolitan fashion designer.
Thrix had once killed a man who had threatened to expose her as a werewolf. It wasn’t a memory she was proud of, if only because it reminded her of her carelessness in letting him find out her secret in the first place. Since then she had been very careful. As far as Thrix knew, the only human who knew she was a were
wolf was her personal assistant Ann. Now these two were here, having been alerted to her existence by her aggravating sister Kalix. Ever since Kalix arrived in London Thrix had feared that this would happen. Really, that was why she had provided Kalix with the pendant. More to stop her from causing bother than to protect her. The Enchantress was putting all her efforts into building a fashion empire and did not want to be distracted by the werewolf madness that always surrounded her young sister.
“You gave her a bath?”
“Yes. And she was filthy and skinny and - ”
Thrix waved Moonglow quiet.
“I heard you the first time.”
Thrix’s lipstick was bright red, accentuating the width of her mouth; it made Daniel worry about the size of her jaws should she transform into a werewolf. Already the light outside was starting to fade. He was eager to leave and tried to hurry things along.
“We can see you’re busy. So could we have a new pendant and we’ll be on our way?”
He smiled brightly as if he’d solved all their problems. Daniel had an attractive smile. The Enchantress didn’t notice.
“You think I can give you a new pendant just like that? Do you think it was easy to find an object which could mask my sister’s presence from her hunters? It wasn’t easy. What happened to it anyway?”
“I think she lost it,” said Moonglow.
“Sold it more likely,” said Thrix, angrily. She could hardly believe she was having this conversation. It was taboo for a member of the MacRinnalch Clan to discuss werewolf affairs with any human. She rose from her desk. Despite his discomfort Daniel was impressed at her slender elegance. The sight of Thrix’s long blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders made him a little more enthusiastic about the whole subject of werewolves. Take away the savage eating part and they were undeniably attractive.
“I’ll think about this in private,” said Thrix.
“There’s no time to think,” protested Moonglow. “Kalix is too weak. The next time anyone attacks her she’ll die for sure.”
Thrix stared Moonglow straight in the eye and told her the matter was not open for discussion.
“You have to help,” said Moonglow, stubbornly. The Enchantress looked annoyed. It crossed her mind that it might be best to use a little sorcery to confuse these humans’ memories.
“I don’t have to do anything. I’m extremely busy and you have no idea what you’re dealing with. It’s time for you to leave.”
Moonglow had come this far and didn’t intend to give up so easily. Trying to show no fear, she faced up to the werewolf.
“You should help your sister. She’s in bad trouble. And she looks up to you. She kept the coat you gave her. If you don’t help her then I’ll always know that werewolves are weak and dishonourable creatures.”
Thrix gaped. It wasn’t what she was expecting to hear. No werewolf of the MacRinnalch ruling family, no matter how self-controlled or integrated with human society, could tolerate abuse like this from a human. Thrix debated whether to blast the girl with a spell or simply use her own strength to pick her up and throw her out on the street. Before she could make up her mind the door burst open. Thrix whirled round, enraged because she had asked not to be disturbed.
It was the Fire Queen. Even Ann couldn’t keep her out when she had made up her mind to enter.
“Enchantress!” she screamed. “The slippers were a disaster! You won’t get away with this!”
The Fire Queen burst into a series of unintelligible oaths, then broke down in hysterical tears.
Daniel and Moonglow looked on, quite astonished.
“This really isn’t the best time - ” said Thrix.
“Everyone’s against me,” sobbed the Fire Queen. “Princess Kabachetka, all the other elementals, all fashion designers, everyone. It is tremendously unfair!” Tears poured from her eyes.
‘How am I ever meant to get my Spring collection together in these circumstances?’ wondered Thrix, and cursed Kalix for making her life difficult.
27
Sarapen MacRinnalch flew from Inverness to London with Decembrius at his side. Decembrius was the son of Lucia, Verasa’s younger sister, who was a member of the Great Council. At thirty years old Decembrius was young in werewolf terms, and looked no older than twenty-one. He was pleased to be doing important work for the next Thane of the clan.
Decembrius had more than just good connections and intelligence to recommend him to Sarapen. From a young age he had demonstrated powers of prescience. Occasionally, he could see into the future. These powers were limited but he had a way of learning things that could not otherwise be known. It was enough to make him useful to Sarapen, though Sarapen had not yet admitted him into his inner circle. There were things about Decembrius that annoyed him. His appearance mainly. Decembrius had red hair, which he couldn’t help, but he swept it back in a mannered way. He had an irritating tendency to wear sunglasses at inappropriate times, and an earring, discreet but noticeable. Sarapen MacRinnalch was the most traditional of werewolves. Until Decembrius grew out of his youthful vanity, he would not be fully accepted.
Decembrius admired Sarapen and tried not to let it show that Sarapen made him feel nervous. The large werewolf smouldered with such power that it was difficult to feel otherwise. Even the airline stewardesses, used to dealing with the most awkward of customers, didn’t seem entirely comfortable in his presence.
“When we reach London you must locate Kalix quickly,” Sarapen said. “The Douglas-MacPhees have lost track of her.”
While Decembrius located Kalix it was Sarapen’s intention to visit his sister Thrix. Possibly he could learn something of Kalix’s whereabouts from her. Sarapen did not look forward to the encounter. He disliked his sister and he disapproved of her lifestyle.
“Do you want me to visit - ” Decembrius broke off, feeling the matter to be rather delicate.
“The cousins about whom the family does not speak?” said Sarapen, finishing the sentence for him. Sarapen had not made up his mind. He felt that it would be as well if he made the visit in person but he barely trusted himself to control his actions were he actually to be brought face to face with the twins. If Sarapen could have had his way they would have been cut off entirely from the clan, never to be admitted again. Sadly, this was not possible. Tradition forbade it. As the daughters of the Thane’s brother, they could not be cut off. They were members of the Great Council, the highest governing body of the MacRinnalch Clan. Technically, at least. In practice they had not been to a meeting of the council for many years.
Decembrius felt that the Thane had not long to live. That worried Sarapen. When he died the council must meet to elect a new Thane. This should be a formality. Sarapen, as eldest son, was the natural successor. However, it was a situation that demanded careful handling. Another werewolf might make a bid for power. Tupan, one of the Thane’s brothers, had long been manoeuvring for influence. Sarapen did not intend to have two potential council votes adrift in an intoxicated haze in London. What if Tupan were to attempt to bribe the twins with drugs or alcohol? They must be visited. Perhaps it would be better to send Decembrius.
As for Kalix, she must be brought back to face justice. Hard as it was to believe, Kalix had also been entitled to a seat on the Great Council though she’d never taken up her position. Since the attack on the Thane, she’d been suspended from the council. She had been declared guilty, and would have been sentenced already had she not fled the castle. The council had issued an order for her to be brought back. This order, while not exactly sanctioning her death, could be construed as reason enough for a member of the family to take extreme measures against her if she refused to return. There were historical precedents.
Any member of the family who did either kill her or drag her back would gain credit with the Great Council. Dulupina wasn’t the only werewolf who was furious at Kalix’s continuing freedom. The three Barons who sat on the council were all steeped in tradition, and they wanted to see Kalix punished.
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Sarapen frowned. Anyone who tried to deny him his rightful position as Thane had better take care. His Uncle Tupan, for instance. Sarapen would remove him if necessary. And Tupan’s vile daughter Dominil. Sarapen’s mouth flickered in the slightest of smiles. He would not be adverse to getting rid of her, white-haired bitch with the frozen soul that she was.
28
When the library closed Kalix didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d looked at pictures of fairies and then she’d tried to find things about the Runaways in the Encyclopaedia Britannica but there didn’t seem to be anything there. She wasn’t sure if she was reading the index correctly and was too embarrassed to ask for help. She wondered what she should do now. She wished she could go back to the warehouse but the Douglas-MacPhees might be waiting for her. Duncan and Rhona would probably have been joined by their brother Fergus, and he was even stronger than his siblings.
Perhaps she should just go there anyway. She wasn’t scared of the Douglas-MacPhees. It might be good to die in combat. But the warehouse was a long way away. She couldn’t face the journey. She couldn’t face anything.
The light faded quickly in the winter afternoon. As Kalix walked down the street she was hit by a sudden wave of depression as powerful as any she’d ever felt before. It poured down like a heavy black rain, covering her till she staggered under its weight. Kalix tried to keep on walking but it was difficult. The tide of depression was frightening in its intensity. Kalix realised that this was the final attack which was going to kill her. The thought flashed through her mind that it was happening now because she had dropped her guard for an instant. She had accepted help from the two young students and now that moment of weakness would destroy her. Ever since Gawain left, she’d cut herself off from her emotions but in Moonglow’s house she’d felt a flicker of gratitude, the tiniest spark of contact with another creature. The moment of contact had brought home to Kalix that she was the loneliest, most hopeless creature on the planet, without friends, hopes, or purpose. As a consequence of this she was about to fall down and die.