The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf (2 page)

“No,” said Markus.

He thought he noticed the faintest trace of disappointment on Dominil's features, but it vanished immediately.

“Then why are you out here, Markus MacRinnalch?”

“To get away from the childbirth. There are so many werewolves fussing around the chamber.”

Dominil nodded somberly. “Is it really going to happen tonight?”

“So they say.”

“It's most unusual,” said Dominil, thoughtfully. “Werewolves are hardly ever born on the full moon. Unfortunately the clan doesn't keep proper statistics.”

“I don't think we need statistics,” said Markus. “Everyone knows how rare it is.”

MacRinnalch children were almost always born in their human form. No one could remember the last time a child had arrived when the moon was full and actually been born in a werewolf shape. According to Doctor Angus, it was going to happen tonight.

“We should keep proper statistics,” insisted Dominil. “I've told Clan Secretary Rainal time and again but he never listens.”

Not wishing to be sidetracked by Dominil's peculiar obsessions, Markus tried encouraging her to return to the castle.

“Everyone in the castle is waiting to see the new cub. There will be a party when she's born.”

Dominil was clearly unimpressed by the prospect of a party. Markus began to feel frustrated. The MacRinnalch werewolves were famously hardy, well used to the harsh rigors of the Scottish Highlands. That didn't mean they wanted their children to stand around nearly naked in the snow.

“Wouldn't you like to see the baby when it arrives? If it's really going to be born as a werewolf, you won't see that again for a long time.”

Dominil considered this. “Perhaps I should observe it,” she conceded. “I'll come back to the castle after the moon's risen and I've made the change.”

Tonight, on the full moon, every MacRinnalch in the castle and surrounding lands would take on their werewolf shape. It was a welcome
event. The clan could always feel their health and power being boosted by the moon.

“Why not come back now?”

Dominil gave Markus another withering look, something that, for someone so young, she seemed remarkably good at.

“I need to compare my resilience before making the change to my resilience afterward.”

Markus was unable to prevent himself from shivering. The snow was coming down harder and the freezing wind was gathering strength.

“What for?”

“It's part of my regime,” declared Dominil. “I'm charting my results on the computer I'm constructing.”

Once again, Markus experienced the uncomfortable feeling of inferiority that could only be brought on by talking to Dominil. He wearied of the conversation. If the clan wanted Dominil to get out of the freezing cold they could fetch her themselves. He nodded stiffly to his young cousin, drew his long coat around him, and departed. As he marched back to the castle, his boots made deep imprints in the new snow.

Dominil wondered briefly why Markus had been concerned. She was in no danger. Her recent experiments had demonstrated quite clearly that she could stand in the snow for hours without coming to harm. Dominil didn't enjoy the freezing cold but was prepared to put up with it, both as a means of improving her self-discipline and as an interesting scientific observation.

She waited till night fell. When the moon rose, full and low in the sky, the change came upon her swiftly. There was no notable reaction on her part. One moment she was a human girl, the next she was a white werewolf, standing on two legs in the deep snow. Dominil made a brief entry in her notebook, then remained where she was, observing the differences she could feel.

As a werewolf, I'm almost impervious to the weather, she thought. The wind and snow can't penetrate my coat at all.

The snowdrift was now several feet deep, backed up against a row of tall ash trees. Dominil sat down and looked at her fur against the snow. Both were pristine white.

“I could hide in the snow,” she mused. “No one could see me.”

An hour later, she made her way back to the castle. If Doctor Angus
had been correct, which he normally was in werewolf matters, Verasa should have had her child by now. Dominil had many cousins and couldn't raise much enthusiasm for the birth of another, but she did have some curiosity to see the child born in its werewolf shape. She entered the castle through the small post gate beside the portcullis. The tall werewolf at the gate barely acknowledged her. Dominil had once lectured him on his gate duties, and since then he'd never liked her. He wasn't the only adult werewolf in the castle with an aversion to the girl.

Dominil had expected to find signs of celebration, but the castle seemed quiet. There were lights on in the courtyard but no sounds of revelry from the chambers above. The Scottish werewolves were capable of raucous celebrations—on Hogmanay, the party generally got out of hand—but there didn't seem to be any exuberance in the air tonight. A few werewolves emerged from one of the stone stairwells. Mostly their fur was a dark, shaggy brown, but one of the younger werewolves had a coat with a slightly redder hue. Dominil recognized her cousin Decembrius. She greeted him formally and asked if the child had been born yet.

Decembrius nodded. “We've been to see it. It's funny, a baby werewolf. Are you going to . . .?” His voice trailed off as Dominil lost interest in the conversation and walked on by. She climbed the stairs that led to the Mistress of the Werewolves's chambers. She passed a few other werewolves on the way. None of them seemed particularly happy. When she reached the west wing of the castle, the outer chamber had obviously been set up for some sort of celebration. The chamber was warm, with a great log fire burning in the grate, and there were bottles of the werewolves' favorite whisky, the MacRinnalch malt, standing on the tables. Plates of venison lay half-eaten beside them. Dominil frowned. It was unlike her clan to leave a celebration before the whisky and venison were finished, particularly on the night of a full moon, when appetites were at their strongest.

She wondered if her father, Tupan, was around. There was no sign of him. Nor was there any sign of Thrix, the Mistress of the Werewolves's daughter, or Sarapen, her eldest son. Dominil carried on toward the inner chamber where she met Doctor Angus. The doctor was a renowned physician, both as a human and a werewolf. The clan depended on his services, as did his human patients in Edinburgh. Angus was frowning, but he forced a smile when he saw the young white-haired werewolf.

“Hello, Dominil. Come to see the baby?”

Dominil nodded. “What's it called?”

“Kalix. It's a girl. But I'd wait a while if I were you.”

“Why?” asked Dominil.

At that moment, furious yells erupted from the private chamber beyond. The Mistress of the Werewolves was shouting, and so was the Thane. Their voices were clearly audible as they insulted each other. Dominil looked at Doctor Angus.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Ever since the birth.”

Dominil nodded. No wonder the celebrations had been muted. The Thane and his wife had been on bad terms for some time; the werewolves in Castle MacRinnalch had come to dread their violent arguments, and they tried to avoid them whenever possible. She made to enter the chamber. Angus put a hand out to restrain her.

“You should wait.”

“I came to see the baby,” she said, removing his hand. She slipped through the great wooden door into Verasa's private chamber. Inside, Verasa was sitting on the edge of her bed, half shouting and half growling at her husband. Neither werewolf took any notice of Dominil. She stared at them without expression for a second, then walked into the small room next door. Behind her the argument intensified.

The room, like Verasa's chamber, was not as warm as the rooms outside. The Mistress of the Werewolves's private chambers were large but not particularly luxurious. There was a small, old cot in the center of the room. Dominil looked in the cot and there was Kalix, a werewolf baby, tucked up under a green tartan blanket. It was indeed an unusual sight. A tiny little werewolf, only an hour old. She had thick dark fur, which made it difficult to make out her features. Dominil studied the baby objectively. She wondered, in her inquiring manner, if the unusual birth might have any long-term effects.

Dominil could still hear the thunderous argument going on in the next chamber. She looked down at the tiny werewolf, who twitched in her cot and whimpered a little.

“Welcome to the MacRinnalch Clan,” she said.

CHAPTER 2

Moonglow considered organizing a surprise party for Kalix's eighteenth birthday; Daniel persuaded her against it.

“Kalix doesn't like surprises,” he pointed out. “We're liable to end up with an angry werewolf looking for someone to bite.”

“Kalix has never bitten us!” protested Moonglow.

“She once knocked you across the room. You know she has a violent temper.”

“Her temper's not as bad these days,” said Moonglow. “But I suppose you're right. The surprise might upset her. We'll give her plenty of warning so she can get used to the idea.”

As far as Daniel and Moonglow could gather, Kalix had never had any sort of birthday party before.

“It's a pity her eighteenth birthday's actually on the full moon,” said Moonglow. “She'll have to make the change. So we can't invite anyone who doesn't already know she's a werewolf.”

“I don't think she has any other friends anyway,” said Daniel.

Moonglow looked slightly troubled. “I hoped she might make a few friends at college, but she doesn't seem to want to.”

“Unlike Vex,” said Daniel. “She makes friends with everyone.”

Agrivex, the fourth occupant of the small flat in South London, attended the same remedial college as Kalix, who had never learned to read or write properly. Since meeting Daniel and Moonglow, the young werewolf's skills had gradually improved. Vex's literacy and numeracy were not that impressive either, but she had the excuse of English not being her first language. Vex was a Fire Elemental and had been born in a different dimension.

“Does Vex have a birthday?” asked Moonglow.

Neither of them knew. All matters of dates and times seemed confusing when transferred from one dimension to another.

“So if we can't have anyone human here for the party, who can we ask?”

They wondered about it, sitting at their table in the living room. It was a small flat, and very old, built above a small shop in Kennington that had been boarded up since they'd arrived. The walls were painted a dull cream, through which the pattern of some ancient wallpaper showed, and
the carpet was faded brown and threadbare, much like the couch. Despite the dilapidation of the flat, it was comfortable and warm, and even cheerful, due to the assortment of pictures, ornaments, flowers and candles Moonglow had distributed around the rooms.

They waited for their tea to brew. Moonglow was fastidious about her tea-making, and regularly produced a well-set-out tray containing a teapot, black china cups, a sugar bowl and a small silver milk jug. The tea had to be left for several minutes to brew properly, and Moonglow would chide anyone who tried to pour it too quickly.

“What about Decembrius? Should we ask him?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Are they still going out with each other?”

“Were they ever really going out?”

Decembrius, another member of the MacRinnalch werewolf clan, had certainly been keen on Kalix. They'd slept together on at least one occasion, as far as Moonglow knew. After that, they seemed to have spent most of their time arguing, sometimes violently.

“What about Thrix?” suggested Moonglow.

Daniel shuddered. His dark, floppy hair fell over his face, as it did when he was troubled or nervous.

“I don't like Thrix.”

Moonglow didn't much like Kalix's older sister either. Thrix MacRinnalch was a very notable werewolf but not a very congenial one. Thrix, often referred to as the Enchantress, was a powerful user of magic. That was unusual for a werewolf. Her sorcery wasn't her only notable attribute. She was a successful businesswoman, running her own fashion house in London. She was also the only blonde werewolf in the clan, and vain about it. Moonglow and Daniel both thought that she could have been more helpful toward Kalix in the past. Unfortunately, Kalix and Thrix had a history of ill feeling, and relations between them were now worse than ever.

“I'm sure Kalix wouldn't want to have Thrix at her birthday party.”

“Well, on the subject of hostile, unfriendly werewolves, what about Dominil?” suggested Daniel.

That did seem more promising. Daniel's description of Kalix's cousin Dominil was accurate enough—to most people, she was hostile and unfriendly—but Kalix seemed to like her, or at least respect her.

“I think she gets on reasonably well with Kalix. We should ask her. And the twins too. I'm sure they're always up for a party.”