The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf. Martin Millar
20
Dominil woke before her alarm sounded. She washed and dressed quickly and was ready to leave in a few minutes. Outside it was still raining. She could see the mountain from her window, and in the dull morning light it looked even less welcoming. Dominil pursed her lips.
“Time to go,” she said.
The corridor outside was silent. Kalix was sleeping in the next room. Dominil knocked gently on the door. There was no reply. Dominil knocked again, then called to her.
“Kalix, are you awake?”
Again there was no reply. Dominil felt uneasy and knocked harder. She tried the door. It was locked. Dominil took a firm grasp of the handle, placed her shoulder against the door and pushed. Even in their human shape, the MacRinnalchs were abnormally strong, and the lock immediately gave way. Dominil stepped inside. She found Kalix lying on the floor. Her bottle of laudanum stood on the bedside table, empty. Kalix had apparently decided to finish off her supply before going to Minerva’s retreat.
“Damn it, Kalix,” muttered Dominil. “Did you have to do this now?”
She knelt beside her cousin, fearing that she might be dead. She placed her fingers on Kalix’s neck. There was a pulse, though it was very weak. Kalix’s breathing was very shallow. Dominil pulled back her eyelid. There was no reaction to the light, and her pupil was tiny. Dominil thought that there was a slight bluish tinge to her lips, though it was hard to be certain in the weak electric light in the bedroom.
Kalix had taken an overdose. Dominil wasn’t quite certain how serious it was, but had she found a human in this condition, after taking too much heroin, she would now be phoning for an ambulance. Unfortunately, medical care for werewolves was always a problem. There were some werewolf doctors in Scotland, but none close by. Dominil hauled Kalix into a sitting position. She checked her pulse again. It remained weak, but seemed constant.
“As far as I can tell,” said Dominil out loud, “you’re not about to die just yet. So let’s see if Minerva can help.”
Having made her decision, Dominil acted swiftly. She gathered up Kalix’s belongings, collected her own from next door, then made a swift trip to her car outside, throwing everything in the back seat. She hurried back indoors, passing the landlady on the way. Dominil returned to Kalix’s bedroom, picked up Kalix, threw her over her shoulder, then headed back outside. The landlady looked at her in alarm.
“I broke a lock,” said Dominil. “I left some money to cover it.”
Dominil placed Kalix in the passenger seat, secured her with the seat belt, then pulled away quickly. There were no other cars in sight and it took only a few minutes to reach the turning that led into Glen Marbauch. The road down the valley was narrow, too narrow in places for two cars to pass. Dominil’s view was hindered by the intensifying rain. She was a naturally cautious driver, but her concern for Kalix made her drive faster. The rented car jolted over potholes, and after the fourth or fifth time this happened Kalix groaned. Without opening her eyes, she suddenly vomited, quite heavily, over herself and the dashboard.
Dominil edged onto the rough grass verge and quickly helped Kalix from the car. The young werewolf moaned again. Dominil took this as a good sign. She held Kalix while she vomited again. Kalix showed signs of coming back to consciousness. Dominil tried to walk her a few steps. The rain was cold, increasing all the time, and Kalix blinked as it struck her face, reviving her. She was sick for a third time. Dominil let her sink to her knees, keeping a close eye on her to check that her breathing was unaffected by her vomiting. She reached down to feel the pulse at her neck. It was notably stronger.
“It looks like you’ll live,” muttered Dominil. She took Kalix’s hand and tried to lead her back to the car but Kalix resisted, pulling away so she could sink back to her knees and be sick again. Dominil let her go. The crisis seemed to be passing. Kalix was in a poor state, but she wasn’t about to die. It took a lot to fatally overwhelm the constitution of a MacRinnalch werewolf. They remained outside the car, in the rain, for some time.
“We’ll be late for Minerva,” said Dominil. “We should have been there by now.”
Kalix was sick again, then flopped onto the wet grass, worn out. Dominil picked her up and took her back to the car. Kalix’s eyes briefly opened, closed again, but Dominil was reasonably sure she was no longer in danger.
“Let’s hope Minerva doesn’t mind waiting,” said Dominil, and set off again. Now that the crisis had passed, she felt angry. It was foolish of Kalix to have taken so much laudanum. She had enough experience of the drug to have known the risks. Not only had Kalix endangered herself, she’d made them late, and Dominil hated to be late. The rain was now coming down too heavily to drive fast, so there was nothing to do but approach the mountain slowly and hope Minerva was still waiting for them.
At its nearest point to Mount Marbauch, the road took a sharp turn to the right. Immediately after this turning there was a tiny dirt track that ran behind a large clump of tall bushes. Dominil drove onto the dirt track and parked behind the bushes, leaving the car out of sight of the road. She turned to Kalix.
“Can you walk?”
Kalix was asleep and didn’t reply. Dominil gave a small, frustrated sigh. She helped Kalix out of the car, then locked the doors. By the time she’d done that, Kalix had sunk to the ground. Dominil attempted to help her walk by putting her arm around her shoulder, but Kalix hung limply, her feet dragging on the ground, and they made no progress. By now thoroughly annoyed, Dominil picked Kalix up and marched on. They were going to make a fine sight for Minerva. Late, wet through, and Kalix covered in vomit and unable to stand.
The lower slopes of Mount Marbauch were covered with heather, which grew all the way up to an area where the grass petered out, and the mountain rose above in bare black stone. The track they walked on was barely discernible through the heather, but above and ahead of them Dominil could see an isolated pine tree. Minerva had arranged to meet them at this tree, though there was no sign of her.
A familiar scent came to Dominil through the rain and the smell of damp heather. A werewolf scent. But not, realized Dominil, quite the scent she might have been expecting. Dominil looked around suspiciously. Then she laid Kalix on her side and took a few steps forward.
“Minerva?” she called.
There was no reply. Dominil walked on toward the pine tree. By this time, her werewolf senses were screaming in alarm. Behind the tree she found the elderly werewolf, face down on the ground with a great stain on the back of her coat. Dominil turned her over. There was a small hole in her chest. Minerva was dead, shot through the heart by a silver bullet.
Moonglow was surprised that Vex wanted to call a house meeting.
“Kalix isn’t here. Shouldn’t we wait for her to get back?”
“I have something I need to talk about. Kalix can join in later. Can’t we have a meeting without her?”
Moonglow supposed that they could. There was no particular set of rules they had to follow. There was, in fact, no difference between a house meeting and their normal informal gatherings that happened almost every day in the living room. The only reason Moonglow had ever introduced the concept was as a way of forcing everyone to talk about their crippling debts. Now that their finances were in some sort of order, they had no reason for any sort of meeting. Vex, however, wouldn’t let it go. Under normal circumstances, Moonglow would have had no objection, but she’d been hoping to avoid close contact with Daniel, at least for a day or two.
Daniel lay on his bed and didn’t answer when Vex knocked on his door. Vex came in anyway, and beamed at him.
“Feeling better? It’s time for our meeting.”
“Go away,” said Daniel.
Vex peered at him, trying to interpret his aura. “You’re not so ill now,” she said. “Come