The Curse of the Wolf Girl (75 page)

The young werewolf reapplied herself to the comic. The ending wasn’t too unsatisfactory, all things considered. There were numerous loose ends left hanging, but at the end of the comic, Arabella Wolf said goodbye to New York and went off to Los Angeles, seeking a new life.

Kalix nodded. “It’s probably best for you to start a new life. I did that too, moving to London. Sometimes you need to make a new start.”

She put the comic carefully back in its wrapping. She looked up. Dominil would be here soon. On the phone, Dominil had sounded quite normal. Apparently, she’d already forgotten about Kalix trying to attack her.

“She probably didn’t even care,” thought Kalix.

Kalix wondered about the morality of accepting money for killing. She didn’t feel entirely comfortable about it. Kalix knew there was too much violence in her life. She knew she couldn’t control herself when she became violent. For the first time, she wondered if she should make more of an effort.

Kalix glanced again at the ancient Roman wall. She liked it. There was something comforting about such an old structure.

“But I don’t want to take the money,” she said out loud to no one.

Kalix got up and walked off. She decided she didn’t want to be paid for killing. She’d get money some other way.

Empress Kabachetka entered her private underground caverns. They had served her well, but she’d be leaving them soon. As Empress of the Hainusta, she had access to much nicer underground caverns. However, there was something she needed to do here first. She walked through the dim caves to the place at the end where space and time ran oddly together, the place where Sarapen was still suspended between life and death, still pierced by the wound that would kill him if he woke.

“Or would have killed him if he woke,” she muttered, “were I not now able to command the full power of the Eternal Volcano and the secret spells of my late mother, may she walk contentedly wherever she now happens to be walking.”

She gazed down at Sarapen’s face, which, while in repose, had never looked entirely peaceful.

“Time to get up,” she said, and she laid a very powerful hand on his shoulder.

Three months after she’d made the bet with the Fairy Queen, Malveria made her way unwillingly to Colburn Woods. She was loath to give up her precious necklace, but a wager with the Fairy Queen couldn’t be reneged on. Doing so would undoubtedly have terrible consequences.

“Recent experience, Queen Dithean, may tend towards supporting your view that the MacRinnalch women are too self-obsessed to form lasting relationships. But is this really fair? They do suffer peculiar circumstances, living as werewolves in the world of humans.”

“True,” admitted Queen Dithean. “And we could make allowances. Even a moderately happy love affair might win you the bet. How did Thrix’s relationship with Easterly end?”

“He’d dead. But that’s hardly a fair test. He was a werewolf hunter after all.” Malveria pursed her lips. “It wasn’t the most successful introduction I’ve ever made.”

“Who else did you have hope for? Dominil, I believe? What happened to the man who pursued her?”

“Also dead.”

“Oh dear.”

“Though there was another suitor for Dominil,” said Malveria.

“Any hope of success?”

“He may escape with his life, if he’s fortunate.” Malveria put her hand to her necklace. “Of course, there is young Kalix. Should we entirely give up hope regarding her? She’s been in the company of Decembrius, an…eh…entertaining rogue who may just be the werewolf for her.”

Queen Dithean raised one hand. “Let’s see how they’re getting on, shall we?” She opened up a small portal in space, managing somehow to produce a picture of Kalix and Decembrius. They were sitting in Decembrius’s car, arguing. As Malveria watched, Kalix violently punched Decembrius on the shoulder, and they started shoving each other.

“Forget Kalix,” said Malveria.

“Marwanis?”

“Threatening to kill the rest of the clan. No lover in prospect.” Queen Malveria sighed. “Stupid werewolves.” Sadly, she unclasped the necklace and handed it over.

Queen Dithean Wallace Cloud-of-Heather NicRinnalch smiled graciously, adjusted the necklace’s size with a twitch of her fingers, and placed it around her neck. A warm glow lit up her features. “Thank you, Malveria. It’s a beautiful necklace.”

“I hope you get several thousand years’ pleasure from it,” said Malveria, sadly, “as my family had before I gambled it away.”

* * *

Later the Fire Queen paid a visit to the enchantress, her first for some time. “I regretted missing last week’s Japanese fashion show. Affairs of state detained me.”

Thrix welcomed her in, pleased to see Malveria apparently back to normal.

The queen slipped off her shoes, settled down on the couch, and held out her hand gratefully for the proffered glass of wine. “You’re dressmaking? At home? I haven’t seen you do that for a while.”

Though Thrix was an expert seamstress, she did little actual dressmaking these days. Thrix delegated the making to others.

“I do love to see a dress being made.” The queen strolled through to the next room, where the dress, almost finished, was draped over a mannequin. “What a lovely item! Formal in its way, but playful too. I love the collar.” She looked at her friend with an arch expression. “Who is this for? Are you hiding an important client from me?”

“It’s nothing,” said Thrix.

“Nothing? Such a beautiful dress? Tell me who it’s for. Is it for me?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s a sort of private commission. No one you know.”

Malveria pouted, not liking Thrix to keep anything secret. “I can’t help noticing, dearest Enchantress, that you are taking great care to disguise your aura. What is it you don’t wish me to know?”

“Do I have to be investigated every time you call around?”

“How very unfair! Malveria has the greatest regard for her friend’s privacy. I will say no more about the matter.” She sipped her wine.

“So who is the dress for?”

“Malveria!”

“Why is it such a great secret? Here you are, carefully constructing a beautiful dress in your own apartment, not even trusting the esteemed dressmakers you employ. Obviously it must be for someone of great importance.” Malveria looked worried. “Not the Ice Queen’s daughter, I hope? Her hips will never fit into this garment.”

“No, not the Ice Queen’s daughter. The Japanese fashion program is about to start.”

Malveria seemed to have lost interest in the program. She circled the almost-finished dress, examining it in detail.

“Made for rather a tall woman. Unusually broad shoulders…small hips…but something is wrong. Has the client no bust at all?” The queen’s face suddenly lit up. “This dress is for a man! I’m right! I can see it in your aura.”

“Didn’t we have an agreement that you wouldn’t interpret my aura when I didn’t want you to?”

“I believe the agreement had a clause excluding all mysterious dresses.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Who is the man? Someone at your fashion house?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Fine,” sniffed the queen. “Keep your secrets. I am not concerned. I shall take my wine and watch the Japanese fashion program in perfect tranquillity.”

They returned to the next room and sat down on Thrix’s huge couch.

“Tell me who the dress is for,” Malveria said after a few minutes.

“No.”

“One might say you owe me a favor. I lost my necklace because of you.”

“Don’t blame me if the Fairy Queen outsmarted you.”

“I might have succeeded if the MacRinnalch women hadn’t all decided to slaughter their boyfriends. You really must stop doing that. It’s so off-putting for potential suitors.”

“Malveria, my boyfriend was a werewolf hunter.”

“But did you really try to work things out? You still might have had a future.”

Thrix sighed. “When Kalix gets involved in your relationships, there is no future.”

Malveria wisely decided to drop the subject, and they watched as a young Japanese model strode along a catwalk in a short silk wrap, which Malveria rather liked.

“Has the transaction with Eldridges been completed?” she asked.

“My clothes are on the way to their stores at this moment. I’m solvent again, thanks to Susi’s review.”

“Ah. The writer who turned out to be a werewolf. That was fortunate.”

The review of Thrix’s latest collection on the newly updated “I Miss Susi” blog was as glowing a piece of journalism as had ever appeared on the website. As well as the order from Eldridges, other fashion buyers had been in contact, expressing strong interest. Various members of the fashion industry had since called Thrix to congratulate her.

“Hypocrites,” muttered Thrix. “They’re eaten up with jealousy.”

“Does that annoy you, Enchantress?”

“Not at all. I love it. And I’m guaranteed a few more good write-ups before she gives up the business to roam around the castle.”

“Perhaps she may encounter Markus there. I hope he likes the dress you’re making for him.”

“What? How did you guess that?”

Malveria smiled. “One does not become Queen of the Hiyasta without a certain level of intelligence. A survey of all the men you know reveals only one who might conceivably wear it. I take it the matter is secret?”

“It’s very secret. Even Mother doesn’t know, and she knows everything.”

“Has he often worn dresses?”

“Yes. It’s his thing, you might say. And it’s private.”

“I am the soul of discretion. Really, it should not be such a surprise. He is a rather pretty man. But I have seen him with women, no?”

“Markus has never had any problems finding girlfriends. You’d be surprised how many women are attracted to a good-looking werewolf in a dress.”

The queen nodded. She could imagine it, just about. “Are you making him matching accessories? A hat? A nice handbag?”

“Malveria, please drop the subject. I don’t even know if the dress is a good idea. I wouldn’t be surprised if he just wraps it round my throat. But he might like it. I don’t think he’s ever had anything specially made for him before.”

Thrix studied the pictures she had as reference material—several pages from magazine articles featuring male models in female attire and an original copy of David Bowie’s “The Man Who Sold the World,” showing the singer in a dress.

“I’m certain he will like it,” said Malveria. “Do you think you could make me something similar?”

“I will.”

“But with ample room in the chest, of course. The Fire Queen has always been famously well endowed.”

“Of course.”

Malveria and Thrix sat next to each other on the couch, drinking wine and watching the Japanese fashion show.

Thrix really didn’t know if Markus would accept the dress as a peace offering, but she hoped he would. Their mother was right. It was time that they stopped arguing. Her mother might be right about the guild too. Perhaps it was time to take the fight to them.