51
Thrix was not surprised to find Markus at her door.
“Come in,” she said. “I doubt you can offer me anything mother hasn’t already.”
Thrix’s laptop was open on the desk. She’d been busy writing email to her office in London. She trusted her assistant Ann to look after business for a few days but even so Thrix had to keep in touch. She hadn’t spent all these years building up her business to have it interrupted by a funeral, even the Thane’s.
Markus stood silently in the room, long enough for the silence to become uncomfortable.
“Probably you should say something,” said Thrix, eventually.
Markus remained silent. The Enchantress noted that her brother was looking rather well. He was dressed in a black suit, finely tailored. The severity of the suit against his slightly feminine features made for an attractive contrast. She might have complimented him on it, but clothing was something of a sensitive subject between them.
“It’s bright in here,” said Markus, eventually.
“I used an illumination spell,” replied Thrix. “I don’t know how you live in this gloomy place.”
“The clan wouldn’t like you using sorcery in the castle,” said Markus.
Thrix raised one eyebrow.
“Is that really the best you can do?”
“I was merely pointing out - ”
“You were searching for some criticism which is what you always do when I’m around. Really Markus, this is not what mother had in mind when she sent you here.”
“I’m not mother’s servant,” responded Markus, angrily. “And you don’t frighten me with your childish spells. If you think I’ve come here to beg for your vote you’re mistaken. I’m quite capable of managing my life without help from you, golden-haired sister who is so keen to abandon her family.”
“I might be keen to abandon them but at least I don’t assault them. I heard about you attacking Kalix in daylight when she was weak. That’s a fine way of showing your regard for the family.”
“I have good reason to dislike Kalix. And you helped her to hide, contrary to the wishes of your family. You’ve never had any regard for us, Thrix.”
Markus’s voice was full of anger. Thrix shook her head.
“Markus. Will you stop this? I’ve told you often enough I don’t care a damn about what clothes you wear.”
Markus snarled and by the time the sound was out of his mouth he had changed into his werewolf shape. The moon had risen. Thrix transformed, and felt irritated as she did so. It was difficult to type on a computer as a werewolf. Had Markus not interrupted her she would have finished her email with far greater ease than she would now. Markus was glaring at her with loathing. He hated Thrix because she knew of his liking for female clothes. She’d known for a long time, ever since she’d caught him wearing something of hers back in the far off days before she left the castle.
“I really don’t care,” said Thrix.
“You don’t? I seem to remember you had some very amusing comments to make at the time.”
The Enchantress felt a little guilty about this. She had tormented her brother and while never giving away his secret, had threatened to, many years ago.
“I was a lot younger then,” said Thrix. “It took me by surprise.”
“But now you are quite prepared to accept that your brother has some peculiarities?” snarled Markus.
Thrix’s long golden werewolf coat gleamed in the sorcerous light and her own eyes lit up with anger. Markus’s hostility towards her over the years had left her with little sympathy for him.
“I told you, I don’t care. I don’t care about you, your clothes, the next Thane or the MacRinnalch Clan. I care about my fashion house and you’re all keeping me from it. Now if you’d like to leave me alone, I might be able to get on with my work.”