204

Beauty woke at two o’clock in the afternoon and went to rouse Delicious.

“I’m not getting up,” said Delicious.

“Why not?”

“I can’t remember any of the new songs and I’ve forgotten how to play the old ones. Tell Dominil I’m sick.”

“Dominil isn’t here. We asked her to give us some peace to get ready today.”

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Though the twins had almost reached a truce with Dominil they’d decided they didn’t want her hanging round as they made their final preparations. If Dominil started lecturing them when they were putting on their make-up, it could really set them back. Dominil had been a little reluctant to leave them to their own devices but in view of their recent progress had agreed to let them spend most of the day on their own.

Beauty made a further effort to rouse Delicious. They had to leave for the gig around seven p.m. which only gave them five hours to get ready, not a lot of time really, given that they still hadn’t decided on their outfits, and their hair would need a lot of attention.

“It’s no use,” said Delicious. “We can’t play and we can’t sing and all our songs are really bad. I’m never going onstage again, starting from tonight.”

Beauty was depressed by her sister’s pessimism. She became disheartened, and went back to bed. When their drummer rang up to check that everything was all right for tonight, they didn’t answer the phone.

The cousins about whom the family did not used to speak were not the only MacRinnalchs reluctant to rise that day. Kalix lay in Gawain’s arms and never wanted to get up again. She pressed herself close to the still sleeping Gawain, and drifted in and out of consciousness, drowsy and happy. She didn’t care that Gawain had temporarily taken another lover. He was back now and that was all that mattered.

Thrix MacRinnalch slept very late, and would have slept longer had she not been woken by a phone call from Ann.

“What’s the matter? If the heating’s gone again, close the building, I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

“You forgot one of Malveria’s handbags.”

Ann had found the handbag in Thrix’s office. Apparently it had been left behind in the excitement over the final batch of shoes.

“Which one?”

“Black leather, silver clasp, Hiyasta imperial motif.”

Thrix groaned. That was one of the bags Malveria needed for the first day of the celebration.

“Maybe she could just substitute another one?” suggested Ann.

“No,” sighed the Enchantress. “If she doesn’t have the right handbag for each outfit the world will come to an end. Maybe literally. Send it over on a bike, I’ll get a message to her.”

Thrix dragged herself out of bed. She felt better for her long sleep, though not yet fully refreshed. A shower and perhaps a brisk transformation into werewolf shape should bring her back to life. Thrix was feeling angry. She tried to avoid acknowledging why she felt angry, but gave up after a while and faced herself squarely in the mirror.

“You don’t even like Gawain,” she said to her reflection. “So who gives a damn if he’s currently snuggling up to your little sister, who you don’t much like either?”

Thrix had difficulty in selecting her outfit for the day. She’d never been to a small rock gig before, and had to look long and hard in her walk-in wardrobes before she found anything appropriate.

Dominil MacRinnalch had slept later than she intended. It was some time since she’d had a lover and the release provided by sex, plus the laudanum she’d take the night before, sent her into a deep slumber. She awoke feeling calm and almost satisfied. Pete woke at the sound of her dressing.

“Eh… do you want breakfast?” he ventured.

“No,” said Dominil. She leaned over him. “I’d rather you did not mention this to anyone.”

For a brief moment the still bleary-eyed Pete had the strange illusion that a great white wolf was standing over him. He blinked, and it was only Dominil, but he felt quite shaken.

“Of course,” he said, and he meant it. Dominil wasn’t like other women, and he wouldn’t have dared go against her wishes.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he called, as Dominil walked out the bedroom. She didn’t reply.

Markus MacRinnalch rose later than most other inhabitants of the castle. The look-outs the walls had changed and the werewolf defenders were at their posts long before the captain of the castle guard made his appearance. Markus was feeling satisfied. His only worry was that his mother might find out about his challenge to Wallace MacGregor and try to prevent it. If she did attempt to stop the fight, he’d be disgraced.

In his London mansion, Sarapen MacRinnalch was up very early, and felt vigorous and alive from the moment he opened his eyes. He was looking forward to this evening’s events.