Blood Politics (Blood Destiny 4) (6 page)

I’d been too busy finding somewhere to stay and helping Mrs. Alcoon set up the shop to log onto the Othernet recently.
 Feeling the tug of curiosity as to what was going on in the world, I cast my eye over the headline pages.  For the first couple of weeks after I’d left the mages’ academy, I’d been terrified that some Otherworldly gossip columnist would proclaim the events that had resulted in Brock and Thomas’ deaths to the world, along with my so-called secret identity.  As time had gone by, however, and there was nothing to speak of other than a couple of stories detailing the event as a ‘tragic accident’, I’d begun to relax somewhat.  Despite the passage of time, I remained nervous every time I logged on, and was immensely relieved that there was still nothing further.  The last thing I needed was even more people finding out what I really was.  Rather than screaming headlines about dragons, there was something to do with a magical explosion up in Birmingham, that the Ministry had been forced to act quickly to cover up before the local police got too interested, and an unpleasant story about some desecrated Otherworld graves in Paris.  I proudly resisted the temptation to click onto the society pages to check out the photos of Corrigan and his various dates to do some investigation into whether Tom was right about them, and instead typed in a query for the Ministry’s phone number instead.  

Several answers appeared quickly on my screen, and I scrolled down until I found one that looked like it might be right, then picked the phone back up and jabbed the numbers in.

The phone rang several times before someone picked up.  “Charter College,” answered a bored voice.

“Um, hi,” I said.
 “This is Mack Smith, I’d like to talk to…,”

The phone clicked.
 I started for a moment, staring at the receiver, then a familiar baritone voice filled the line.

“Mackenzie,” echoed the overly warm tones of the Arch-Mage.
 “How are you?  Did you receive my little gift?”

I thought about the gleaming coffee machine on my kitchen table.
 “Er, yes.  Thanks.”

“I knew you had a penchant for coffee from the time you spent with us, so I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah, don’t fucking do that again though.”

There was a moment of silence.
 Then, “I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to be nice and all, but let’s not forget that you’re the people who effectively tortured me then forced me to go back to school.
 That didn’t exactly turn out so well for any of us.”

The Arch-Mage coughed.
 “Mackenzie, I can only apologise if you feel any antagonism towards us for past events.  Let me make it make it up to you.”

“Cut the bullshit,” I said, firmly.
 “What you should have said is that I deserved to be beaten up by your goons because I broke into your headquarters.  And that sending me to the academy was the best way to help me understand my powers.  That if you’d known the full truth then things would have been different.”

“Well, I, yes, that’s what…”

“Get a grip.  You’re playing all nice now because you want to have me in your back pocket.  Well, buying me things isn’t going to achieve that.  Neither is following me around all fucking day long either.”

Thankfully for my sanity, the Arch-Mage reverted to his former self and a note of haughtiness exerted itself through the phone.
 “We’re hardly going to let the shifters and the faeries follow you around and know what you’re doing, when we don’t.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be having words with them too.
 But I need you to back off.  I like you, and I like the Ministry, and I will help you out if you need me to.  For now, quit pissing around and give me some peace.”

“Fine,” said the Arch-Mage stiffly.

“Thank you.”  I could afford to be gracious now that I had what I wanted.  “I read about what happened in Birmingham with the explosion.  Is everything alright?”

“We believe the situation was contained.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”  I wanted to ask him what had happened to the Palladium too, the small ancient wooden statue that had caused so many problems a few months before.  I was a bit of afraid of the answer though, and rather worried that, despite my exhortations to the opposite, the Arch-Mage would offer to give it to me as a present.  I didn’t want that chunk of wood anywhere near me ever again.  I chickened out.

“Well then, I’m sure I’ll be speaking to you soon.”

“I do hope so, Miss Mackenzie.”  The Arch-Mage hung up.

I wondered how annoyed he was with me, then put the phone down and decided he’d just have to deal with it.
 One down.  Two to go.

Next up was Corrigan.
 I took a deep breath and told myself firmly that it was important to retain the same modicum of business-like conversation that I’d had with the Arch-Mage.  Easy.

Corrigan?
 Are you available right now?
 There.  That was an appropriately perfunctory opening.

There was a moment of silence before he answered back in my head.
 
Kitten, for you I’m always available.

Fuck.
 The way he’d purred the last word made my imagination go to places that I didn’t need it to.  Stay focused, Mack.  
I need you to back off.

Whatever do you mean?

I appreciate that you fixed my door.

Did you like the colour?
 I thought it would suit you.

It’s great,
I shot back flatly.  
But enough.  You can’t just let the pack wander into my flat whenever they want to.  It’s my flat.  And you can’t give me flowers.  And you can’t follow me around any more.

He didn’t immediately reply.
 There was a knock on my front door, a rap that seemed to be beating out some kind of tune.  I walked out and opened it up, and took in Solus standing just on the edge of the threshold wearing some kind of black as night kilt, with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned virtually to his stomach.  For goodness’ sake.  I beckoned him inside without saying anything.  A lazy smile crossed his features and he opened his mouth to speak, but I shushed him and pointed him towards the kitchen table.  He shrugged and wandered over, pulling out a chair then flipping out the back of his kilt with a flourish to sit down.

Corrigan?
 Are you still there?

His reply was dangerously quiet.
 
You didn’t like the flowers?

It’s not that I didn’t like them. It’s that you forced the mages and the faeries into thinking that they had to give me gifts too.
 I’m not about to prostitute myself out to the highest bidder.

I don’t care what they do.
 I only care what you do.

Well, what I do is enjoy going about my daily life without constantly being interrupted.

Like you’ve just been interrupted by that faerie?

That explained the long drawn out silence then.
 The shifter that was watching had clearly informed Corrigan about my visitor.

This is exactly what I’m talking about.
 You can’t track my every single movement.  I need some privacy, Corrigan.  And, for your information, he’s here so that I can tell him exactly the same thing that I’m telling you.

To not give you flowers?

I sighed in exasperation.  
To give me some peace and stop following me around or giving me expensive presents.

I could sense waves of silent menace emanating from him.
 
What did he give you?

Again with the privacy invasion.
 I’m not saying I’m going to ignore you, Corrigan, I just need some space.  Not just from you but from everyone.

And what if something attacks you because they know that you’re a dragon and they have decided that your head would look good on their wall?

Technically, my Lord Alpha, I’m not a dragon – I’m a Draco Wyr.  Plus, I think I’ve proven that I can look after myself.

I waited for a moment, crossing my fingers.
 Solus noticed the gesture and raised his eyebrows in mocking amusement.  I glared at him.

Fine, kitten.
 I will do as you wish if you grant me but one boon.

Name it,
I answered rashly without thinking.

Dinner.
 Saturday night.  I will come and pick you up.  
He then immediately broke off the connection, before I could protest otherwise.  Outfuckingstanding.

“His Lord Furriness, I presume?” drawled Solus.

I nodded, distracted, then sat down on a chair opposite the Fae.

“You really need to get him out of your system, dragonlette.
 Just fuck him and be done with it.”  He watched my reaction carefully.

I made sure not to give him any satisfaction by reacting and kept my face pointedly blank.
 “Thanks for coming, Solus.”

He bared his teeth at me in the semblance of a smile, then stretched out like a cat and put his hands behind his head.
 “How could I say no?  Then I’d have missed the opportunity to see you so glamorously attired.”

I scowled at him.
 He smirked back, then continued, “I had rather been hoping you’d be in touch before now.  But beggars cannot be choosers and I am here now to do your bidding.”

“Then tell your Queen to leave me alone.”

He quirked up a single perfectly plucked eyebrow.  “Dragonlette, one does not simply tell the Summer of Queen of the entire Seelie Fae what to do.  I had presumed that you were smarter than that.”

“I’m sure you can find a way to re-phrase it more politely, Solus.
 But I need some privacy and I need you, the mages and the shifters to stop following me around.”

Solus brushed some imaginary dust off his shoulder.
 “Really?  And why now all of a sudden does this bother you?  You’ve been perfectly content up till now to let us hang around.”

“Well, now I’m settled in.
 I’m not going anywhere, and you know where I am.  So I’d like some peace and quiet.”

He sniffed.
 “I see.  Does this have anything to do with these objects?”  He waved a hand over the table and its contents, a faint sneer on face.  “Flowers?  And coffee?”

“And one translated Fae book.”

“If you don’t want it dragonlette, I will happily take it back.”

“You know I want it.”

Solus leaned forward.  “Have you read it yet?”

“No.”

He seemed disappointed.  “Ah, well.  Perhaps when you do, you’ll get in touch with me again.  There are a few things that I may be able to help you with.”  He nodded his head towards my shoulder.  “How’s the mark?”

“It hurts sometimes, Solus,” I said, telling the truth.
 “Usually in my dreams.  I don’t know why.”

He stood up and walked round to me, placing his right hand onto where the scar was hidden beneath the soft cotton fabric of my pyjama top.
 

“What are you doing?” I asked suspiciously.

“Shhh,” he said softly.

The warmth of Solus’ hand quickly turned to a cold burn and I winced.

“Shit!  Solus, that hurts.”

“I told you to be quiet, dragonlette.”

I grimaced and squirmed slightly, but stayed in place.  Solus damn well better know what he’s doing, I thought uncharitably.   His cold touch seared through my top and skin, biting into my flesh underneath.  I gritted my teeth until he finally pulled away.

“There.
 It shouldn’t bother you quite so much now.”

I moved my shoulder around in a semi-circle, first one way then the other.
 It did feel a bit different.  I sent the Fae a quick look of gratitude.

 
He grinned at me, white teeth flashing.  “Now, dragonlette, I need you to tell me the truth.”

I gazed up at him, askance.

“What do you think of my sporran?”  He gestured down towards his crotch.

I punched out, aiming for his stomach, but he just laughed and danced away.
  

“Idiot,” I muttered.

“I’m glad you finally got in touch, my little fiery one.  I will arrange for the tail to be removed and inform her Majesty in my own manner.”

“Thanks, Solus.”

He pointed down at the collection of translated Fae papers.  “And read those.  You will find them enlightening.”

I nodded.
 Then he snapped his fingers, which I was sure was more for effect than because he needed to, and vanished.

Chapter Five

By the time I awoke the next day, it was already mid-morning.
 I had been tempted the previous night to take Solus’ advice and read through the Fae translation, but my eyelids had already been starting to droop and sleep had seemed to be by far the best course of action.  Fortunately it had been dream-less.  Now, wide awake and with a steaming cup of black coffee in front of me, the pristine white pages were shouting out at me.  If I was honest with myself, I was absolutely terrified about what secrets it might reveal.