She needed to find some private place. The waves of depression brought on a terrible anxiety which began to affect her senses. Her heart pounded, breathing became difficult and her vision was blurred. She searched right and left for an alleyway to crawl into. She couldn’t find one. Kalix swayed on her feet and reached out her arm to steady herself against the wall. If anyone noticed her plight, no one stopped to help as she stumbled along.
Kalix didn’t even notice when she reached the end of the pavement and stepped onto the road. She didn’t see the truck that hit her. There was a screeching of tyres, a crash, and she was thrown into the air. She landed, broken and bleeding, on the other side of the road. Now people ran to her aid but Kalix couldn’t make out any of the individual figures, just a frightening blur of motion as people gathered around, pressing in on her.
She couldn’t die like this, with a crowd of people staring at her. She was far beyond her human endurance but the werewolf inside her gave her one last surge of strength and she rose to her feet. She took a few blind steps and then broke into a run.
Kalix turned a corner. She rubbed her hand over her eyes and there in front of her was the opening she’d been searching for. Kalix threw herself into the alleyway. Her legs gave way. She had to get further. She started to crawl. She dragged herself as far as she could up the alleyway. At the very end she found a pile of stinking, rotting boxes and she tried to pull them over her.
“Now I’ll die,” she thought. She could feel the blood oozing out of her body. She thought about Gawain and tears came to her eyes because he’d never know what happened to her. Kalix whispered a goodbye to him, then everything went dark.
29
The cousins about whom the family did not speak were twins, very similar in appearance though not quite identical. Beauty’s hair was dyed blue while Delicious’s was a very bright pink. They both played guitar and sang, quite well, and this, along with their MacRinnalch good looks, might have been enough to bring them some success, had they not been too intoxicated to ever make progress with their band. The twins’ rapid descent into rock and roll degeneracy had shocked the rather staid elders of the clan.
Beauty and Delicious were playing their guitars in the front room of the house they shared in Camden. It was going well till Beauty, reaching for her bottle of wine, tripped over her guitar lead and fell into Delicious. Both girls ended up in a heap on the floor in amongst the bottles, glasses, and cigarette papers.
“Damn,” said Beauty.
“Damn,” said Delicious.
They lay in silence for a few moments.
“It’s a good song anyway,” said Beauty. “We should write another verse.”
She started scrabbling around in the mess on the floor, looking for their marihuana. The sisters smoked a lot of this, and washed it down with beer, cider and wine. Their capacity for intoxicants was famous throughout North London. Although such behaviour might have had a very bad effect on any normal person, Beauty and Delicious were protected by their inner werewolf strength. The same strength which allowed Sarapen to roam the moors for days on end allowed the twins to indulge their desire for stimulants to an alarming degree. It did have some consequences. Though they remained reasonably healthy, the twins could no longer change at will into werewolf form. They had forgotten how. They still transformed on the wolf nights around the full moon but that was all. They didn’t care. There was plenty of fun to be had in this part of London for a pair of attractive girls who could play guitar and drink anyone under the table.
Some way through sharing a very large joint, constructed quite expertly by Delicious, Beauty wondered what the ringing sound was.
“Feedback?”
Delicious turned down the volume control on her guitar. The feedback stopped.
“There’s still something ringing.”
“It’s the doorbell.”
Interested, Beauty started crawling towards the door to investigate.
“Maybe we ordered some food?”
She reached up with difficulty to open the door. Decembrius looked down at her in surprise. Beauty was perplexed.
“We paid the TV license,” she said. “And the council tax.”
“May I come in?” ventured Decembrius, not entirely at ease.
Beauty didn’t answer. Delicious appeared at her side, also apparently unable to stand. Decembrius felt uncomfortable. It was some years since he’d seen the twins and they obviously didn’t remember him. He introduced himself. They still looked blank.
“Decembrius? Never heard of you.”
Feeling some explanation might help things along, he told them that he’d come to see them on behalf of Sarapen. Both sisters howled with laughter.
“Sarapen!” cried Delicious, as if the very name was enough to make her roar, while her sister Beauty wiped tears of mirth from her eyes.
Decembrius frowned. Looking down at the girls, with their gaudy blue and pink hair, their ripped and shiny clothes and their advanced state of intoxication, he could see why Sarapen had been unwilling to make this journey himself.
30
“Another shoe humiliation!” wailed the Fire Queen.
Thrix was at a loss. She hadn’t got over her displeasure at being called a weak and dishonourable creature and strongly wished to deal with Moonglow. Unfortunately it was impossible to do anything when Malveria was alternately ranting and sobbing in her office.
“Leave now,” said Thrix to Moonglow, harshly.
“No,” replied Moonglow.
The Fire Queen leapt to her feet and started waving her hands around dramatically.
“I will roast you in the great volcano you cursed werewolf.”
Daniel took a long step backwards. Thrix brought a protection spell to mind, just in case the Fire Queen was serious. As it was, Malveria was in too much anguish to roast anybody. She started sobbing again and leant against Daniel for support.
“There there,” said Daniel. “I’m sure it will be all right.”
“All right? How can it be all right? Do you know what happened to me? This creature - ” Malveria pointed accusingly at Thrix. “ - sold me new silver slippers and she swore - absolutely swore - that she had just designed them. And what happened when I turned up at the Igan Frost Queen’s ball? Everybody was wearing them. And I mean everybody, even that slutty little Igan Princess who’s always trying to steal my followers.”
The Fire Queen looked accusingly at the Enchantress.
“How could this be? You swore they were new. Are you trying to make me the laughing stock?”
Thrix was finding this hard to cope with. On one side she had two humans making unwelcome enquiries about werewolf affairs and on the other she had a furious fire elemental making complaints which could not be true. Because Thrix had just designed the slippers. It was not possible that any one else could have been wearing them. Any successful designer became used to being plagiarised but not on the same day that the stock left the company.
The Fire Queen started sobbing on Daniel’s shoulder again. Daniel, perplexed, wondered what he should do. He presumed that this exotic beauty was some supermodel who had been upset at a fashion show. He tried patting her hand.
“There there,” he said.
Malveria looked at him, tears running down her cheeks.
“Is it not appalling?” she said. “To turn up at a ball and be the laughing stock because everyone already has your shoes?”
Daniel was touched. His kindly nature was upset at the sight of the woman’s distress. Though it was contrary to his natural shyness he strained to think of something pleasant to say which might make her feel better.
“But you’re so… eh… so… eh… you’re so beautiful surely no one would mind what shoes you were wearing?”
The Fire Queen stopped crying, rather suddenly.
“You think I’m beautiful?”
Daniel blushed.
“Eh… yes…”
“Thank you,” said the Fire Queen, and reste
d her head on his shoulder. “At least there is someone who is not against me.”
“Please Jane,” said Thrix, calling the Fire Queen by the name that was used whenever there were humans around. “These people have come to see me about a personal matter. Could you perhaps give us a few minutes?”
“Your personal matter is more important than my utter disgrace with shoes?” demanded the Queen. There was an awkward silence.
“It’s about her sister,” said Moonglow, attempting to be helpful. Daniel winced as he saw the look of fury which flickered across Thrix’s face.
“The little wolf?” said the Fire Queen. “Is she in trouble again?”
“Terrible trouble,” replied Moonglow. “She needs a new pendant.”
“Really?”
“But her sister won’t give us one,” added Moonglow, feeling for some reason that this woman might be an ally against the unwilling Thrix.
“Of course she will not,” said Malveria. “She is entirely without heart. How can you expect her to do kindness to her sister when she quite on purpose sends me out with inferior shoes?”
“Really!” said Thrix. “I did not send you out with inferior shoes. They were an exclusive design. I’m baffled as to how anyone else could have a similar pair. I promise I’ll sort it out for you, Jane, only I must - ”
But the Fire Queen had now become interested in Thrix’s visitors. They did not seem to be the sort of people with whom she was familiar. She looked at Moonglow. She studied her long black hair, black nail varnish and black clothes. The only humans the Fire Queen had ever seen dressed in this fashion had been her own devotees, who seemed to favour it.
“Is she one of mine?” she enquired of the Enchantress.
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh. I thought I did not recognise her.”
“I’m Moonglow.”
“Moonglow? A pretty name.”
The Fire Queen turned her attention back to Daniel.
“And you, young man who thinks I am beautiful. What is your name?”
Daniel blushed deeply. The Fire Queen laughed, very entertained. She raised her hand to brush back his hair to look at his face and his complexion grew even redder.
“I’m eh… Daniel… eh… Jane.”
“Please, call me Malveria,” she said, rolling the ‘r’ in an exotic manner. “Fire Queen of the Hiyasta, Mistress of the Volcanoes, Protector of the Flame, Lady of the Inferno, Ruler of the Burning Element, and Persecutor of Mankind.”
Daniel and Moonglow took a nervous step back, wondering if they were about to be persecuted. The Queen, however, seemed to regard them sympathetically.
“So why won’t you give them a pendant?” asked Malveria.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t. I was just explaining that it was very difficult. Who even knows where another Pendant of Tamol might be?”
“I’m sure I could find one,” said the Fire Queen, casually. After her shoe disgrace she was rather enjoying the opportunity of discomfiting the Enchantress, who obviously wished to be rid of them all.
“No doubt you could,” said Thrix, acidly. “However I’m not certain it’s a good idea.”
“She just doesn’t seem to want to help,” said Moonglow to the Fire Queen.
“I would be very wary of getting on the wrong side of me!” snarled the Enchantress.
“You are being very rude to your guests,” said Malveria. “Is it perhaps to cover your guilt and shame over the recent shoe atrocity?”
“It has nothing to do with that! This girl called me a weak and dishonourable creature.”
Malveria laughed heartily.
“Excellent! I could not have put it better myself.”
Thrix sighed. This was all going very badly. The intercom buzzed. Ann’s voice sounded very urgent.
“Sarapen is on his way!”
The Enchantress put her hand to her forehead. This was all she needed. There was no putting Sarapen off. Her older brother would stride straight out of the lift and into her office without pausing. She turned to the Fire Queen.
“Malveria. I will, I promise, sort out this business with the shoes. Someone must have stolen my design. Meanwhile, I have to talk to my brother and I’d rather he didn’t find you all here.”
Malveria nodded. This was reasonable. She knew all about Sarapen’s forceful personality.
“Please take these two into the far corner of the room and I’ll hide you,” said Thrix.
Not understanding what was happening, Daniel and Moonglow found themselves being shepherded across the large office. When they reached the far corner the Enchantress waved her hand. Nothing seemed to change.
“What’s going on?” asked Moonglow.
“She has hidden us with a spell,” explained Malveria.
“Why?”
A very large and brutal looking man threw the door open and marched into Thrix’s office.
“That is why,” said the Fire Queen. “And it is quite wise. You do not want to encounter Sarapen. He is not what I would call a civilised werewolf. Not that werewolves are the most civilised of creatures as a rule - one rather despairs of them at times - but even by their low standards he is a brute. I always regret that my darling Thrix has to associate with them so.”
31
The alleyway was long and narrow, and turned at a right angle to run along behind the shops on the streetfront. At the end it was dark, damp, cluttered with boxes which had lain untouched for years. Nobody came here. Kalix crawled under the boxes, still bleeding, and lay down in the accumulated years of city dirt. If it was not a good place to die, at least it would be quiet.
Even her werewolf strength could not protect her from the impact of a truck. Kalix’s ribs were cracked and she was damaged inside. Blood seeped from her mouth and her nose. She hurt badly. She fumbled around in her bag and found her laudanum. It was hard raising her arm and Kalix drank with difficulty.
A song played in her head. Hello Dad, Hello Mom, I’m your ch ch ch ch ch ch ch ch Cherry Bomb! The Runaways first single. She wished she could have seen them onstage. And maybe - it occurred to her for the first time in her life - maybe it would have been good to have met someone who actually liked them. Kalix had sometimes overheard young people talking about music, discussing bands they liked, but she’d never joined in. Perhaps that would have been fun.
The laudanum started to enter her system, giving her the familiar warm glow. Now ready to die, Kalix slipped into unconsciousness.
32
Huddling in the corner of the office, Moonglow and Daniel both found it hard to believe they were really hidden from Sarapen but they were glad that they were. They had never seen a man who radiated such primeval power. He was six feet six inches tall, broad shouldered and very muscular. His face was weather-beaten and his features, though not exactly handsome, were sharp and striking, with a prominent scar running over the left side of his jaw. His thick black hair, rather long, was pushed back roughly from his brow, and he wore a black leather coat that reached down to his ankles. Despite his size he moved easily. As for his eyes, they were dark and penetrating. When he turned his gaze to the corner of the room in which they were hidden Moonglow shrank back behind the Fire Queen and Daniel hid behind them both. Malveria was amused by the situation. She was not at all frightened of Sarapen but she was always entertained by plots and stratagems.
Sarapen towered over his sister, taller by ten inches and at least twice her weight.
“Good day, sister.”
Sarapen sniffed. He could tell that there was someone else concealed in the room. His sister’s sorcery could not fool him completely. But it was not Kalix’s scent so he paid it little heed.
“Good day, brother.”
They regarded each other coolly. Thrix and Sarapen had never been friends. Sarapen had been over one hundred years old when Thrix was born. Throughout her life at the castle Thrix could never remember Sarapen paying her much attention. He had at least seldom troubled her. There was
no bitter argument in their past, no wound which still festered, as there was between Thrix and Markus. Still, Sarapen made no secret of his disapproval of her lifestyle. Sarapen honestly could not understand either her desire to distance herself from the clan or her attempts to build a career in the outside world. Both things went against tradition and therefore irritated him.
“What brings you here, brother?” said Thrix.
“Kalix,” replied Sarapen, curtly. “She must return to the castle.”
“So?”
“So kindly tell me where she is.”
“And why would I know that?”
“You are the only member of the family who’s been in contact with her.”
Thrix realised she had not offered her brother any token of hospitality. This was bad. Though she did not want to associate herself with the family, neither did Thrix want to be seen as a werewolf who had become degenerate. Feeling that perhaps in the circumstances it was a little absurd, she crossed over to her cabinet and produced a bottle of whisky. The MacRinnalch malt, distilled on the family estates using barley from the fields to the north of the castle and water from the pure stream that ran through Colburn Wood. She poured two glasses and passed one to Sarapen. Sarapen thanked her politely. He did not think this was absurd. Had his sister failed to offer him any token of hospitality he would have been deeply offended.
“You shouldn’t have given her the pendant. You had no business hiding her from the justice of the clan.”
“I don’t believe Kalix received much justice during her life at the castle!” said Thrix, suddenly flaring up.
She lowered her voice.
“Besides, there was no reason not to give it to her. She has not yet been sentenced.
“Only because she fled the castle. Was it of no import to you that she nearly killed the Thane?”
Sarapen too had intended not to lose his temper but as always the memory of the attack on their father roused him to a fury.