persuasive. Marwanis had long been the most popular of the younger werewolves who made up what could be termed the MacRinnalch ruling family. In contrast to Thrix, who’d abandoned the clan to seek fame in London; Butix and Delix, who’d departed to bring shame on the clan with their degenerate lifestyle; and Dominil, with her notoriously hostile demeanor, Marwanis was a symbol of MacRinnalch tradition: respected, respectful, elegant, and almost everything that a proper werewolf should be.
The older werewolves, and many of the younger ones too, didn’t approve of those who left home in search of excitement. It was a danger to the clan and shouldn’t be encouraged. It was something of a blemish on the reputation of even such a renowned werewolf as Verasa MacRinnalch that her children had not turned out as respectably as Marwanis.
There was no need to make comparisons with Kalix, of course. Kalix was universally regarded as mad and beyond redemption.
Marwanis, for all her respectability, had refused to declare peace after the feud was over. She’d stopped attending meetings of the Great Council. She asked Lachlan if he could put her in touch with the Douglas-MacPhees, and though Lachlan was troubled at the thought, he nonetheless did as she asked. Marwanis made contact with them, arranged to meet, and then wondered who else she might recruit in her quest for revenge against Kalix.
Chapter 13
Dominil drove Kalix back to Tottenham Court Road tube station where Kalix caught a late train to Kennington. She had a fresh bottle of laudanum in her pocket and kept her hand on it. As Kalix journeyed south, she was deep in thought, oblivious to the passengers around her. The attack by the werewolf hunter hadn’t troubled her unduly, but Gawain’s letter had. Kalix wished she’d been able to formulate some sort of question about Gawain that Dominil might have been willing to answer, but Dominil had been characteristically unforthcoming. Dominil was focused on helping the twins’ band and had no time for Kalix’s problems.
As always, Kalix’s recent change into werewolf shape had invigorated her. She drew strength from it, and it showed. These days she was quite a striking figure. The current generation of female MacRinnalchs were noted for their beauty. Dominil, Marwanis, Beauty, and Delicious all caused heads to turn. The seventeen-year-old Kalix was perhaps the most beautiful of them. She was skinny, waif-like, with thick, dark hair flowing down to her waist. Her eyes were large and very dark, and she had an unusually wide mouth, characteristic of the MacRinnalch women. Now that she was looking after herself better, her complexion was clear, and the dark shadows under her eyes had disappeared. As some of the passengers eyed her surreptitiously, they wondered about her. Why, for instance, was such a beautiful young girl dressed so shabbily, in an old coat, an oversized shirt, and boots that were falling apart? Was she too poor to buy clothes? Or just following some trend for ragged garments? A fashion student making a statement, perhaps? It was difficult to say.
Kalix stared at her feet, unaware of the attention. The news that Gawain wanted to see her was monumental. Her mind raced in all directions. In the past few months, she’d felt every possible emotion towards Gawain, from the deepest, most painful yearning to savage, murderous fury. Gawain, the son of a very respectable werewolf family, had once been her lover. Her lover at far too young an age for the family’s liking. Kalix’s father, the Thane, had banished him from the castle, exiling him from the clan. It was this that had finally tipped the troubled young Kalix over the edge, leading to her madness, her attack on the Thane, and her own exile. In the three years they’d been apart, Kalix had never stopped thinking of Gawain. When they’d finally met, thrown together by the chaotic events that followed the Thane’s death, it had not gone the way
The older werewolves, and many of the younger ones too, didn’t approve of those who left home in search of excitement. It was a danger to the clan and shouldn’t be encouraged. It was something of a blemish on the reputation of even such a renowned werewolf as Verasa MacRinnalch that her children had not turned out as respectably as Marwanis.
There was no need to make comparisons with Kalix, of course. Kalix was universally regarded as mad and beyond redemption.
Marwanis, for all her respectability, had refused to declare peace after the feud was over. She’d stopped attending meetings of the Great Council. She asked Lachlan if he could put her in touch with the Douglas-MacPhees, and though Lachlan was troubled at the thought, he nonetheless did as she asked. Marwanis made contact with them, arranged to meet, and then wondered who else she might recruit in her quest for revenge against Kalix.
Chapter 13
Dominil drove Kalix back to Tottenham Court Road tube station where Kalix caught a late train to Kennington. She had a fresh bottle of laudanum in her pocket and kept her hand on it. As Kalix journeyed south, she was deep in thought, oblivious to the passengers around her. The attack by the werewolf hunter hadn’t troubled her unduly, but Gawain’s letter had. Kalix wished she’d been able to formulate some sort of question about Gawain that Dominil might have been willing to answer, but Dominil had been characteristically unforthcoming. Dominil was focused on helping the twins’ band and had no time for Kalix’s problems.
As always, Kalix’s recent change into werewolf shape had invigorated her. She drew strength from it, and it showed. These days she was quite a striking figure. The current generation of female MacRinnalchs were noted for their beauty. Dominil, Marwanis, Beauty, and Delicious all caused heads to turn. The seventeen-year-old Kalix was perhaps the most beautiful of them. She was skinny, waif-like, with thick, dark hair flowing down to her waist. Her eyes were large and very dark, and she had an unusually wide mouth, characteristic of the MacRinnalch women. Now that she was looking after herself better, her complexion was clear, and the dark shadows under her eyes had disappeared. As some of the passengers eyed her surreptitiously, they wondered about her. Why, for instance, was such a beautiful young girl dressed so shabbily, in an old coat, an oversized shirt, and boots that were falling apart? Was she too poor to buy clothes? Or just following some trend for ragged garments? A fashion student making a statement, perhaps? It was difficult to say.
Kalix stared at her feet, unaware of the attention. The news that Gawain wanted to see her was monumental. Her mind raced in all directions. In the past few months, she’d felt every possible emotion towards Gawain, from the deepest, most painful yearning to savage, murderous fury. Gawain, the son of a very respectable werewolf family, had once been her lover. Her lover at far too young an age for the family’s liking. Kalix’s father, the Thane, had banished him from the castle, exiling him from the clan. It was this that had finally tipped the troubled young Kalix over the edge, leading to her madness, her attack on the Thane, and her own exile. In the three years they’d been apart, Kalix had never stopped thinking of Gawain. When they’d finally met, thrown together by the chaotic events that followed the Thane’s death, it had not gone the way
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