that.”
Later Arabella woke up in Central Park. She couldn’t remember anything that had happened. Outside the park, newspaper vendors were selling papers with headlines about more grisly murders. Arabella was worried as she made her way back to her boyfriend’s apartment. Her boyfriend worked for the FBI.
“I’ve been assigned to solve these terrible killings,” he told Arabella. “There’s an insane beast on the rampage, and the city is terrified.”
“I hate this comic,” muttered Kalix. “It’s completely anti-werewolf from start to finish.”
Chapter 23
Thrix arrived later than she intended at Castle MacRinnalch. Her mother was displeased.
“Markus needs your support, Thrix.”
Thrix scowled. She and her brother Markus heartily disliked each other, as her mother knew very well.
“Support? What for? The war’s ended.”
“There are plenty of other affairs the MacRinnalchs need to attend to.”
“I have more important things to worry about.”
The Mistress of the Werewolves was shocked. The enchantress cared more for her business than she did for the clan, but there was no need to be so rude about it. Verasa looked at her daughter curiously. Thrix was as glamorous as ever, golden-haired and beautifully attired, but there was something unusual about her manner.
“Is anything wrong?” she asked Thrix.
“I told you, I’d rather not be here.”
“You’d always rather not be here, but you’re not normally this hostile. Has something upset you?”
Thrix felt uncomfortable. Though she was a skilled sorceress who’d studied with the renowned Minerva MacRinnalch, it was difficult to fool her mother. The Mistress of the Werewolves was a very shrewd wolf. Not much escaped her notice, particularly in family matters.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just stressed from work.”
“I thought business was good? Didn’t
Tatler
print that nice piece about your last show?”
Thrix made a face. “They did. But it’s not enough. Buyers are not necessarily impressed by catwalk reviews. I’ve spent the last three months trying to persuade London stores to sell my clothes, and I don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”
It was a problem that was much on Thrix’s mind at the moment. Her standing in the fashion world had risen recently. Her clothes were generally liked. Unfortunately, she needed to sell them to keep her business going, and fashion outlets had a remarkable ability to delay making decisions.
“They keep you waiting for months and then tell you they’ve decided to go with someone else. It’s infuriating.” Thrix poured herself whisky from the crystal decanter on the table. In common with virtually every other member of the family, the enchantress was fond of the MacRinnalch malt.
“Have you seen Kalix?” asked Verasa.
If this was an attempt to change the subject, it was a poor choice. Thrix bristled at the mention of her young sister’s name.
“No, I have not. And please don’t say you need me to look after her. I’ve done enough of that.”
“I wouldn’t say you ever took to the task that well.”
“I helped her to hide,” said Thrix, “which was more than anyone else in the family did for her.”
Verasa nodded. It was true. Thrix had helped to hide Kalix, and she was grateful for that. The Mistress of the Werewolves was an elegant woman who always looked her best for council meetings. If her clothes were conservative by Thrix’s standards, she couldn’t fault them. Verasa was never less than immaculate. The MacRinnalch children had inherited her good looks. At least Thrix, Kalix, and Markus had. Sarapen had been much more like their late father.
Sarapen was on Verasa’s mind at the moment. Her eldest son had died in battle, but there had been no burial. At the moment of death, his body had been spirited away by Princess Kabachetka. It was not fitting that his body should be missing. It should be buried respectably on the estate. Verasa had asked Thrix to make
Later Arabella woke up in Central Park. She couldn’t remember anything that had happened. Outside the park, newspaper vendors were selling papers with headlines about more grisly murders. Arabella was worried as she made her way back to her boyfriend’s apartment. Her boyfriend worked for the FBI.
“I’ve been assigned to solve these terrible killings,” he told Arabella. “There’s an insane beast on the rampage, and the city is terrified.”
“I hate this comic,” muttered Kalix. “It’s completely anti-werewolf from start to finish.”
Chapter 23
Thrix arrived later than she intended at Castle MacRinnalch. Her mother was displeased.
“Markus needs your support, Thrix.”
Thrix scowled. She and her brother Markus heartily disliked each other, as her mother knew very well.
“Support? What for? The war’s ended.”
“There are plenty of other affairs the MacRinnalchs need to attend to.”
“I have more important things to worry about.”
The Mistress of the Werewolves was shocked. The enchantress cared more for her business than she did for the clan, but there was no need to be so rude about it. Verasa looked at her daughter curiously. Thrix was as glamorous as ever, golden-haired and beautifully attired, but there was something unusual about her manner.
“Is anything wrong?” she asked Thrix.
“I told you, I’d rather not be here.”
“You’d always rather not be here, but you’re not normally this hostile. Has something upset you?”
Thrix felt uncomfortable. Though she was a skilled sorceress who’d studied with the renowned Minerva MacRinnalch, it was difficult to fool her mother. The Mistress of the Werewolves was a very shrewd wolf. Not much escaped her notice, particularly in family matters.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just stressed from work.”
“I thought business was good? Didn’t
Tatler
print that nice piece about your last show?”
Thrix made a face. “They did. But it’s not enough. Buyers are not necessarily impressed by catwalk reviews. I’ve spent the last three months trying to persuade London stores to sell my clothes, and I don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”
It was a problem that was much on Thrix’s mind at the moment. Her standing in the fashion world had risen recently. Her clothes were generally liked. Unfortunately, she needed to sell them to keep her business going, and fashion outlets had a remarkable ability to delay making decisions.
“They keep you waiting for months and then tell you they’ve decided to go with someone else. It’s infuriating.” Thrix poured herself whisky from the crystal decanter on the table. In common with virtually every other member of the family, the enchantress was fond of the MacRinnalch malt.
“Have you seen Kalix?” asked Verasa.
If this was an attempt to change the subject, it was a poor choice. Thrix bristled at the mention of her young sister’s name.
“No, I have not. And please don’t say you need me to look after her. I’ve done enough of that.”
“I wouldn’t say you ever took to the task that well.”
“I helped her to hide,” said Thrix, “which was more than anyone else in the family did for her.”
Verasa nodded. It was true. Thrix had helped to hide Kalix, and she was grateful for that. The Mistress of the Werewolves was an elegant woman who always looked her best for council meetings. If her clothes were conservative by Thrix’s standards, she couldn’t fault them. Verasa was never less than immaculate. The MacRinnalch children had inherited her good looks. At least Thrix, Kalix, and Markus had. Sarapen had been much more like their late father.
Sarapen was on Verasa’s mind at the moment. Her eldest son had died in battle, but there had been no burial. At the moment of death, his body had been spirited away by Princess Kabachetka. It was not fitting that his body should be missing. It should be buried respectably on the estate. Verasa had asked Thrix to make
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