The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf by Martin Millar Page A

light at Mornington Crescent. She turned to stare at Delicious.
    â€œI assume that you called the Mistress of the Werewolves yourself, to ask her to pressurize me into attending?”
    â€œWe may have,” said Delicious.
    Dominil scowled. The twins knew that Verasa MacRinnalch, Kalix’s mother, held Dominil in high regard. They also knew that Verasa worried about her errant daughter, far away in London. Asking her to persuade Dominil to attend the party had been their idea of a cunning plan.
    â€œThere was no need,” said Dominil. “I had already accepted the invitation.”
    â€œBut why? You’re so antisocial. Beauty, isn’t Dominil antisocial?”
    â€œThe most antisocial werewolf in the clan,” agreed Beauty. “I think she holds some sort of record.”
    Dominil’s lips compressed slightly, but she didn’t engage with the twins. It would be a waste of time. When Beauty and Delicious were excited, as they were now, there was no way of preventing them from talkingnonsense. Since taking on the task of managing their band, Dominil had learned to ignore it. She followed the one-way system through Camden before taking the main road toward Oxford Street, bringing them to a large underground car park close to the cinema.
    â€œWouldn’t it be funny if the car broke down?” said Delicious as they emerged into the street above.
    â€œWhy would it be funny?” asked Dominil.
    â€œBecause we’re all going to turn into werewolves in a few hours, of course. We’d be werewolves in the middle of town. Owwooo!”
    â€œIt would not be funny at all,” said Dominil sternly. “And the car won’t break down. I had it serviced recently.”
    â€œOwwooo!” Beauty joined in with her sister, imagining themselves already to be werewolves. Passersby looked at the girls and smiled. It was odd behavior, howling in the street for no apparent reason, but given the brightness of the sisters’ hair and clothes, it didn’t seem out of character. Students, they imagined. Or perhaps some sort of alternative models, with their pink, blue and snow-white hair.
    â€œKalix and her friends are in the foyer,” said Dominil. “Now stop howling and start behaving. I’m expecting this film to be tedious enough without having to listen to you making fools of yourselves all the way through.”

CHAPTER 9
    Sarapen MacRinnalch stood on the roof of the great palace, gazing at the lava that poured down the eastern slopes of the Eternal Volcano. Flames crackled above the molten rock and the air shimmered. The first time Sarapen had seen the approaching lava he’d felt a mild sense of alarm; it seemed that the palace would soon be overwhelmed and swamped by the molten liquid. He was used to it now. The Royal Palace of the Hainusta was connected to the volcano, existing with it in some sort of symbiotic relationship. Rather than causing harm, the fiery outpouring of the volcano gave power to the Empress and her people.
    Sarapen knew that he shouldn’t be able to stand so close to the boiling lava. The heat should have driven him back. He hardly felt it. Empress Kabachetka had worked spells on him, enabling him to exist in her land.Since taking control of the volcano, Kabachetka’s power had greatly increased. Here in her own land there seemed to be little she couldn’t do. She could enable a werewolf to exist alongside the Fire Elementals. She could cause a werewolf to live when he should have died. Sarapen’s fingers touched his chest, something he did quite often these days, unconsciously. Beneath his shirt there was a terrible scar. Even the Empress’s healing powers couldn’t get rid of that. But she had prevented him from dying, though the Begravar knife that had pierced his chest should have been lethal. No werewolf could survive such a strike. The weapon had been designed specially to confuse and kill any