The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf. Martin Millar

19

      “It is a terrible thing to happen,” said Queen Malveria, pacing up and down Thrix’s office. Her heels were extremely high, even by Malveria’s standards, but the Queen had been pacing relentlessly since arriving in the office. “How could this happen?”

      “Calm down, Malveria,” said Thrix. “It’s not that bad.”

      “Enchantress, you amaze and distress me. Not that bad?”

      The Fire Queen grabbed a magazine from Thrix’s desk and glared at it with such loathing that it burst into flames. Thrix muttered a sorcerous word to put out the fire. Malveria scowled at the charred magazine then threw it down in disgust.

      “Espionage must be involved! It has happened before and I won’t stand for it! I will rain down fire on this designer and his cheap strumpet who is now wearing a surprisingly similar outfit to the one which you have designed for me!”

      In ten days’ time, the King and Queen of the Mayusta Earth Elementals were paying Malveria a state visit. Malveria had been looking forward to wearing her new line of formal wear. Thrix’s designs were so elegant and becoming. Since engaging Thrix as her designer, the Fire Queen had been much happier while performing her official duties. It was so satisfying to be able to turn up at a grand event in a really special coat, with a beautiful hat and handbag to match.

      The Fire Queen glared at the charred magazine cover. “Who is this cheap whore anyway?”

      “Britain’s top Olympic athlete,” said Thrix.

      “Why is she at Buckingham Palace?”

      “She’s receiving an MBE for services to the country.”

      “Pah!” snorted Malveria, who had little time for athletics.

      Thrix glanced at the scorched magazine cover, on which the female athlete was pictured wearing a sober but stylish ensemble in dark gray. It was true that it was very similar to the outfit Thrix had designed for Malveria, but Thrix was sure it was just a coincidence.

      “There are limited varieties in these formal coats and dresses, Malveria. And everyone’s wearing that shade of gray this season.”

      “But what am I to do?” cried Malveria. “How can I look my guests in the face knowing that my ensemble has already been worn by some woman with no other talent than running around a track? The Mayusta Queen is very gossipy for an Earth Giant and is sure to spread it around.”

      “Would they even know? Do the Earth Giants read British celebrity magazines?”

      “Someone will tell them. Kabachetka’s intelligence services scan them regularly. That cheap Empress will steal from anywhere.”

      The Fire Queen, still pacing, almost lost her footing. She looked down at her shoes.

      “I must say, these new, higher heels are a challenge. Since they appeared on the catwalks I’ve found myself tottering on several occasions. And one simply dreads the humiliation of falling over.”

      “I’m having difficulty too,” admitted Thrix. Like Malveria, Thrix had gleefully embraced the fashion for extremely high heels, but while they looked wonderful on models posing in magazines, they were difficult to wear in real life. “I almost broke my ankle coming out of the lift.”

      “Perhaps a spell might help?” suggested Malveria.

      Thrix was immediately interested. “For helping us to walk in them? That’s a good idea.”

      “I will give the matter my attention as soon as I return to the palace,” said the Fire Queen. “If you also work on it, we may make some progress before the designers’ reception.”

      Thrix nodded. The reception was only two weeks away. It was an important event. Each year, a group of the best designers was invited by the British Fashion Institute to a celebration at the Tate Gallery. This year, for the first time, Thrix had received an invitation. The event would be full of journalists, celebrities, buyers, editors and wealthy patrons: everyone that Thrix wanted to meet. It was an excellent opportunity to expand her business. The Fire Queen was looking forward to it just as much, though for different reasons.

      “Photographers from Vogue will be there,” exclaimed the Fire Queen.

      Thrix smiled. Her friend’s desire to secure a place in Vogue’s “fashionable party people” page was stronger than ever.

      “With our exceedingly high heels held in place by our new sorcery, we will be quite unstoppable,” enthused the Queen. “We shall sweep all before us. You shall be rewarded for your fashion genius by many valuable orders for your beautiful clothes. I will finally get my picture in Vogue, thereby grinding the poorly dressed Empress Kabachetka into the dust where she belongs.” The Queen smiled happily at the prospect. “My new dress will be ready?”

      “It will,” said Thrix. “It would have been ready already if . . .” Thrix’s voice trailed off.

      The Fire Queen looked distressed. “I know I erred in insisting on the lighter blue material. You were right, it does not suit me.”

      Dealing with fashion crises was something Thrix had become used to during her friendship with the Fire Queen. This time she had matters well in hand.

      “I’ll have the new frock ready in good time. And don’t worry about your formal coat, I’ll have something even better for you.”

      “Really?” Malveria dabbed her eyes. “Forgive me for crying. I am sometimes overwhelmed to have such a good friend to take care of my attire.”

      The Fire Queen checked her appearance in the large wall mirror. “I should depart, but . . .”

      “What’s the matter?”

      “I had intended to visit Agrivex before returning home. Not that the wretched niece will be pleased to receive a visit from me, but I should check that she hasn’t wrecked the house during their party.”

      “Wrecked the house? Is that likely?”

      “There is no telling. Though Agrivex has very little power, she is still a Fire Elemental. As she is too stupid to control her power properly, it’s a constant worry that one day she may simply explode, taking all with her in a hideous fireball.”

      Thrix laughed. She couldn’t imagine the skinny and inoffensive Agrivex exploding in a fireball.

      “I admit it is unlikely,” said Malveria. “Most probably the foolish girl has simply drunk too much and made herself ill.” The Fire Queen sighed.

      “Malveria, are you still feeling old?”

      “A little. And the thought of my niece celebrating her eighteenth birthday is still not helping. What of yourself, Enchantress? Your sister is also eighteen. Does this make you feel old?”

      “It didn’t till you mentioned it. I’ve got enough reasons to dislike Kalix already without you giving me new ones.”

      “You have not forgiven her for killing Easterly?”

      The Enchantress looked grim. “I haven’t. And I don’t care if the rest of the clan thinks she did the right thing. So what if Easterly turned out to be a werewolf hunter? He was still my boyfriend till Kalix assassinated him.”

      The Fire Queen nodded. “You must be sure to keep her away from your next romantic interest.”

      Thrix scowled. “If I ever do have a new romance—which I probably won’t—Kalix had better stay well away. I’ll burn the little brat to a cinder if she annoys me again.”

      The Fire Queen smiled. “I will be sure to give her your best regards.”

      Malveria had never found Kalix to be particularly objectionable, but she was well aware of the Enchantress’s antipathy toward her. She made a final check on her appearance, then dematerialized with a gentle wave, leaving behind her the characteristic aroma of jasmine.