"What?"

"There's a wolf in the kitchen eating cat food."

Daniel and Moonglow sprang from the couch.

"Has she eaten the cat as well?"

"I didn't notice."

There was a rush for the kitchen. There they were confronted by an unexpected sight. Kalix, still lusting for meat, had transformed into her full-wolf shape-something she very rarely did-and was now munching her way through the food in the cat bowl. Rather surprisingly, the cat didn't seem to mind that much and was eating from the other side of the bowl, grabbing what scraps it could before Kalix got there.

"We'll need more cat food," said Daniel.

Kalix licked the bowl clean and didn't seem satisfied. Nor was the cat, which was understandable, as it hadn't gotten much of its promised meal.

"You better open another tin," he said.

"I'm not sure about this," said Moonglow.

The cat began meowing. Kalix started padding around the kitchen, panting.

"I don't think Verasa would be very pleased about her daughter eating cat food."

Kalix began growling, either at the mention of her mother's name or because she was still hungry. The cat redoubled its meowing. Daniel opened the kitchen cupboard and took out a tin.

"The public demands more cat food," he said. "We better serve it up before there's a riot."

He emptied the cat food into the bowl, where Kalix and the cat again began eating.

Moonglow, Daniel, and Vex left them to it and returned to the living room.

"That was unexpected," said Moonglow.

"She's certainly got a powerful appetite." Daniel was a little impressed.

"I'm not really sure about her eating cat food though."

Daniel shrugged. "It looks healthy in the advertisements. It'll keep her coat shiny."

Not long afterwards, Vex nodded off to sleep on the couch. She smelled strongly of wine. Moonglow was troubled. "We're supposed to be looking after them."

"We are looking after them."

"Vex is drunk, and Kalix is eating cat food!"

"Well, we're doing our best," said Daniel.

"I'd better pay the rent before Malveria and Verasa start asking for their money back."

CHAPTER 107.

Mr. Carmichael had never stood out as a well-dressed man. He owned three suits, which he rotated throughout the month. Today's choice, a very conservative gray, looked particularly dated as he visited the offices of Captain Easterly's magazine. The young receptionist regarded him unsympathetically. She seemed suspicious when he claimed to have an appointment with their men's fashion editor. After checking her calendar, she reluctantly directed him to Easterly's office, which in keeping with the eclectic nature of the magazine, was cluttered with an odd assortment of formal and informal clothes, electronic gadgets, toys, snacks, and artwork.

It was unusual for Mr. Carmichael to visit any of his operatives in the field, but Easterly was now unwilling to visit the guild's headquarters. He feared that Thrix's sorcery might detect any close involvement with other werewolf hunters. So he said anyway. But Easterly had always exhibited a somewhat cavalier attitude towards the rules. Mr. Carmichael suspected he might just not feel like visiting their headquarters these days.

"Albermarle thinks you might be going over to the other side."

"Albermarle's an idiot."

Mr. Carmichael sipped coffee that, despite coming from the most modern coffee-making machine on the market and having been sent to the magazine for review, had been given to him in a plastic cup. "He thinks you've become too close to this werewolf...this...what was her name?"

"Thrix MacRinnalch."

"It's odd that none of our other operatives seem to have heard of her."

"She's a sorceress," explained Easterly for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Her defenses make it almost impossible to get close to her. Even when a hunter does come across her, he soon forgets."

"Very unusual for a werewolf to be a sorceress."

"I've reported all this before. Her sorcery makes us forget about her. I've spent weeks gaining her trust."

"But you can't kill her?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"I've explained that a hundred times too. No attack would work. Her body repels silver. You could fire a bullet at her from point-blank range, and it still wouldn't penetrate."

"So what do you plan to do?"

"Wait for the right moment. Meanwhile, I'm tracking her all the time."

"You mean you've bugged her?"

"Not exactly," said Easterly. "Her defenses would detect any sort of listening device, but her sorcery hasn't quite moved with the times. Albermarle gave me a code to enter into her mobile phone. There's no mechanism involved, so she hasn't detected it."

"You said you weren't getting on well with Albermarle, but he's helped you track your target?"

"I never said he wasn't good with technology. He's excellent. He'd be worth more to the guild if he just stayed in the background. He's only helping track the enchantress because he thinks it will bring him closer to Dominil."

"You think Albermarle is too personally involved with Dominil?"

"I do."

"He says exactly the same about you and Thrix."

"He's wrong."

Mr. Carmichael was reassured, to an extent. He didn't think Easterly was falling in love with Thrix MacRinnalch, as Albermarle claimed. There might be more of a connection than Easterly was prepared to admit, but he didn't doubt that when the opportunity arose, Easterly would kill her.

Carmichael fumbled in his wallet. "Where's my receipt for lunch gone? Since Albermarle reformed our expense claims, I have to keep track of every damned thing."

CHAPTER 108.

The enchantress was surprised by the security chain preventing the door from opening fully. It seemed an unusual precaution for a strong werewolf like Dominil.

"Worried about burglars?" she asked.

"I'm worried about Albermarle." Dominil slipped the chain loose and let her cousin in. "I've been as careful as I could be to keep this address secret. Did you make sure no one followed you?"

"No one can follow me anywhere."

"I hope you're right. You're the only one I'm telling about my movements these days."

Thrix looked curiously at her cousin.

"Why is this Albermarle such a problem? We've dealt with hunters before."

"Albermarle is more intelligent. When I locate him, he's gone, and when I hide, he finds me."

Dominil's temporary apartment was small, clean, and extremely austere. The landlord had painted the walls white for his new tenant, and Dominil hadn't done anything to change it. Her computer was on the table, and her coat hung by the door. Apart from that, the place could almost have been uninhabited.

"Where did you find this place?"

"I walked into a letting agency and took it at random. It's best if I stay away from clan properties. Albermarle would find me. He's in command of a group of hunters these days, and that's too many silver bullets to dodge." Dominil shook her head. "It's hard to imagine the Albermarle I knew at university being in charge of anyone. Though it's not hard to imagine him working every minute of the day to track me down. He always was obsessive."

"Breaking his heart probably made it worse."

Dominil pursed her lips. "I've heard enough about that from the twins. I didn't think it was funny coming from them either."

"Sorry," said Thrix. "If he's really that dangerous, let me help you kill him."

Dominil shook her head. "If you can hide me from him for a little while, that'll be enough. I want to kill him myself."

"Are you letting this get personal, Dominil?"

"He chased me out of the British Museum. No one can do that."

Thrix nodded. She noticed that Dominil was dressed a little more casually than normal. The black trousers she wore were plain and not particularly well cut. Her black sweatshirt was old, well worn. Practical, Thrix supposed, but not smart. Despite this, Dominil's hair was still well cared for. Long, thick, and lustrous, as was Thrix's, but straight, rather than curling.

"I'll find my bottle of whisky."

Thrix waved this away. "Don't worry, I don't need it."

Dominil ignored her and went into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of the MacRinnalch malt and two clean glasses.

"To us," said Thrix, raising her glass, "and clan traditions. And to the departed spirit of Gawain MacRinnalch, may he wander happily in the Forests of the Werewolf Dead."

Dominil looked sharply at her visitor. "What?"

Thrix put down her glass on the bare wooden table. "I'm remembering Gawain."

"Gawain has been dead for a while."

"I know," said Thrix. "But he didn't get much of a send-off. I doubt many werewolves raised a glass to his departure. Maybe his sister, wherever she is. And Kalix of course. She took it badly."

"I understood your affection for Gawain faded away some time ago."

"It did. Which doesn't mean I wanted him dead. He was a fellow MacRinnalch, after all."

Thrix looked pointedly at her empty glass. Dominil refilled it for her, but remained silent.

"I was surprised you refused to help Kalix look for his killer," said Thrix.

"As is quite obvious, I have other things on my mind."

"True. Albermarle and the twins. That's a lot to take care of." Thrix sat back in her seat and seemed to relax. "Whoever killed Gawain probably expected it would end there. After all, who would care he was dead? But if they'd thought it through, they'd have realized that my crazy sister wouldn't let it go. Kalix loved him with all her youthful passion and that doesn't fade so easily. You know I'm on her list of suspects?"

"I believe I am too," said Dominil.

"It's unfortunate for the killer that Kalix is friendly with a Hiyasta who can detect people's auras after they've gone. Fire Elementals are good at that. Of course, Agrivex isn't the brightest Hiyasta around. If a really powerful Elemental-Queen Malveria for instance-were to apply herself, there's no telling what she might learn, even now."

"Perhaps you should suggest it to Kalix," said Dominil, coolly.

There was a very long silence, interrupted only by a faint humming from the elderly fridge in the kitchen.

"Why did you kill Gawain?" said Thrix, abruptly.

If Thrix was hoping for a reaction, she was disappointed.