Blood Politics (Blood Destiny 4) Page 5

  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.

  Not too many months ago, I’d been desperate to discover more about myself and my weird blood; since shifting into a dragon I wasn’t convinced that I needed to know the truth any longer. What I’d not told anyone, and what I barely allowed myself to consider even in my most alone moments, was that during those seconds when I had became more monster than human, all semblance of rational thought had completely fled me. I was used to having my bloodfire take over my thoughts and actions, of course, but I’d always still managed to remain inherently myself somewhere inside. When I’d transformed, consumed by the rage and pain of seeing both Brock and Thomas massacred in front of me, there had been nothing left of me inside. Not one scrap. All that I’d been was a mass of unthinking death and devastation. A tiny part of me dreaded to think what I might have done if someone else had gotten in between my dragon form and Tryyl.

  I inhaled deeply. Solus had naturally read it, and he was still sticking around. Being a typically arrogant Fae, he no doubt believed in his absolute invincibility against all odds, but surely even he would be sensible enough to steer clear of me if I was all that dangerous, I rationalised to myself. And, by knowing more about what my true nature was really like, I’d have a better chance of guarding against anything terrible happening. Of course I was glad that I’d managed to kill the wraith as well.

  “You didn’t actually hurt anyone innocent, Mack,” I told myself aloud. Not that it meant I still wouldn’t though.

  I inhaled deeply, sucking calming breath into my lungs. Okay. I knew I was going to eventually read the bloody thing no matter what, so why not get it out of the way? I made to put the coffee cup down on the table top and realised that flickers of anxious green flame were licking around my fingers. Not helpful. Closing my eyes for a moment and practising some of the meditative techniques that my old anger management counsellor had taught me, I forced myself to settle down. When I checked back, the flames were gone.

  I pulled the papers over to me, then turned to the first page. I’d already managed to translate the first chapter on my own back when the original had been in my possession, very slowly deciphering each and every word with the help of a bilingual dictionary. I couldn’t be entirely sure that I’d managed to be accurate, however, so I started by re-reading what I already knew.

  It turned out my original efforts had been fairly spot on. Other than a few odd words here and there, and clumsy wording, I’d worked out all of the main points. At some point in the very distant past, a remarkably foolish mage had attempted to experiment on a real, honest to goodness bona fide dragon, by transforming it into human form. Said dragon had not appreciated her efforts and, as well as eventually killing her and numerous other humans who got in his way, he also spent a lot of time shagging the local maidens and getting several of them pregnant. Before too long, however, a sturdy warrior by the name of Bolox had been smart enough to try and kill the dragon. His shoulder had been maimed in the ensuing fight and, while his efforts had ultimately proved successful, the scars on his shoulder never disappeared. Ever since that point, all progeny of the dragon had the same scars visible on their own shoulders, in some mystical transferable version of a knot-in-string reminder that whenever they came across any descendants of Bolox it was their duty to slaughter them instantly. The scar thing didn’t really seem particularly logical, but I guessed that neither did being stupid enough – or magically endowed enough – to transform a dragon into human form.

  Something tugged at my memory. One of the first things I’d been required to do when I’d started at the mages’ academy was to read, understand and memorise their complicated legal system. I was sure that one of the unbreakable rules had been that it was expressly forbidden for anyone to ever attempt to change the true nature of a living creature through magical means. Now that I thought about it in the context of my great-great-great-and-so-on-grand-daddy, it made perfect sense.

  I flicked over to the next chapter, which traced the linea
ge of that original dragon down through the centuries. Many of the original women who’d been unfortunate enough to have caught the eye of first ever Draco Wyr had died in childbirth, their babies along with them. Enough had survived, however, to continue the line, albeit diluting the wyrm blood as they went along. The anonymous author of the book speculated that many important figures throughout history could claim to be of the Draco Wyr suggesting, although not offering much in the way of proof, that people like Boadicea, Julius Caesar and Genghis Khan all benefited from the power of their blood and heritage. The people they slaughtered didn’t benefit much from it, I thought, not that I didn’t admire some of what they’d achieved.

  The second chapter ended with the author surmising that the reason the Draco Wyr had virtually died out by the turn of the nineteenth century was that their combative nature and dwindling powers caused the majority of the species to involve themselves in too many situations that resulted in their deaths at a young age. There was also the implication that many of them had been hunted down and bled dry, due to various Otherworld creatures desiring the power of Draco Wyr blood for themselves. I thought of Iabartu and nodded to myself. It didn’t appear that much had changed in the last two hundred or so years.

  Pushing the papers aside, I wandered into my little bathroom and leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Clearly, in terms of the whole nature versus nurture debate, nature was winning as far as I was concerned. My innate temper did indeed lead me into many situations which I would be wiser to avoid. Of course I doubted that many of my ancestors had enjoyed the option of anger management counseling. Perhaps being able to avail myself of such things meant that I’d be more successful at life than my forebears. It occurred to me that I should probably make an appointment to continue with the sessions. Anything that would help me stay in control, even if only minutely, could only be a good thing.

  With that thought in my head, I decided to leave the rest of the book for now and see what else I could procure to help myself. I picked up my backpack, first extricating the vampire books from it and placing them in a corner to be read carefully at a later date, and headed outside. Once I was out on the pavement, I glanced carefully up and down the street. It was filled with shoppers, few of them paying me any attention. It appeared that my pleas the night before had been heeded as I couldn’t see anyone, Otherworlder or otherwise, keen to follow me around. Excellent.

  Instead of turning left towards Clava Books as I normally would, I headed right. There were still a few hours before the shops would start to close so my little excursion would let me kill two birds with one stone. Before too long I was standing outside a small store bracketed by earthy coloured signage. Mrs. Alcoon and Julia would be proud of me.

  I didn’t think I’d ever entered a homeopathic shop up till now. The restorative powers of herbal remedies had hardly escaped me, however, so I wandered up and down the shelves until I found something that I thought might work: a small bottle filled with a viscous liquid and a label that proclaimed itself as ‘Temper-Soothe’. I picked it up and read the label.

  There was a long list of ingredients, but the main ones seemed to be Passiflora Incarnata and Skullcap. I grimaced. Neither sounded particularly appealing but my knowledge of all things herbal was not exactly extensive. I considered calling Julia to see whether she thought this would be the right fit, but then decided against it. It would probably just worry her. And, after all, I was only taking the remedy as a preventative measure, much like vitamins. I paid for it at the counter, ignoring the slightly raised eyebrows of the shop assistant, then headed back outside again, this time flagging down a taxi.

  “Where to, Miss?” asked the driver, the twang of Cockney apparent in his accent.

  I gave him the address, then sat back and watched the world go by. Some days I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get used to living in such a large city. It certainly didn’t help my powers of spatial awareness. Out in the countryside, I found it relatively easy to work out my position and how to get to where I needed to go – here it was much harder. As I wasn’t completely confident that I’d be able to find my next destination, and I didn’t want the taxi driver to use his famed black cab Knowledge to help, I had directed him to Alcazon, the swanky restaurant frequented by the more well to do inhabitants of the Otherworld. From there, I’d be able to re-trace my previous steps to get to Balud’s weapon shop. There was no way my budget would stretch to being able to afford to eat at the restaurant – my one and only previous visit had been with Solus and he’d been paying. I’d just have to keep my fingers crossed that I had enough spare cash to buy myself something sharp at the shop. It wasn’t that I thought that my pending nocturnal visit to meet a dryad was going to be dangerous, just that it didn’t hurt to be prepared. The irony of buying a herbal remedy to stop me from attacking someone needlessly in a rage in the same afternoon as procuring weapons that would help me in such an attack wasn’t lost on me. They were both for protection, I told myself firmly, just different kinds of protection, that’s all.

  Before too long, the driver pulled up across from Alcazon, and I reached into my backpack to get out some cash. I was just handing it over, however, when something caught my eye and I suddenly drew back.

  “Everything all right?” the taxi driver inquired solicitously.

  My eyes were fixed across the street. “Er, fine, just…just wait a minute, can you?”

  He shrugged, and sat back in his seat. My attention remained focused on the couple who had just emerged from round the corner. It was impossible to miss Corrigan. He strode along the street as if it belonged to him, black hair glinting in the afternoon sun, and white v-necked t-shirt moulded to his chest so that every taut badass shapeshifter muscle was revealed. The dark-haired woman at his side, and on whose back he was currently placing a protective hand, was clearly a shifter too. I didn’t recognise her but I hadn’t grown up in a pack without being able to pick one out at a hundred paces. Whoever she was, she somehow managed to pull off looking both dainty and powerful at the same time. The hackles on my skin rose as I watched the pair of them, and I felt the familiar surge of heat fire up in the pit of my belly then ripple through my blood. I quickly sat on my hands in case inadvertent green fire decided to sprout up. I wasn’t quite sure how I’d explain that to the taxi driver.

  I knew that what I was feeling was jealousy and I knew that I had no right to that emotion. But it still didn’t stop it from flooding every molecule of my body. So much for there not really being anyone in his life. It just confirmed for me that he was only hanging around me now because he thought he could use the fact that I was a Draco Wyr to his advantage, just like the Faes and the mages did. The woman seemed to sense my stare because at one point she glanced straight over in my direction. I sank down into my seat and hoped that she’d not seen me. It seemed to have worked as she turned back again without breaking her stride. I waited until the pair of them had disappeared inside the gleaming glass-fronted building, then yanked out a hand and dug into my backpack, pulling out the Temper-Soothe. I twisted the cap off then chugged down several gulps. He could do what he wanted, I told myself. I had no right to be angry at him because I had no claim on him. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t feel the bloodfire ripping through my system anyway.

  The taxi driver eyed me sympathetically in his rear view mirror.

  “Boyfriend?” he asked.

  “Not exactly,” I said sighing, before handing over what I owed him, along with more of a tip than I’d originally intended. “Thanks.”

  “That’s okay. I’m sure he’s not worth it anyway, sweetheart.”

  I really wished that he hadn’t tacked on that endearment, as it caused the fire to flare up inside me even more. I took another swig of the herbal medicine and forced a smile on my face, gritting my teeth as he drove off, then stomped off down the street towards the troll’s store.

  *

  My mood didn’t seem to have improved much by the tim
e I arrived in front of Balud’s shabby door. I’d all but drained the Temper-Soothe. Shitty stuff. It tasted nasty and hadn’t done a damn thing. Next time I’d know to avoid the homeopathic crap and go straight for hard drugs instead. I lifted up the door knocker and slammed it down hard several times, feeling it vibrate against the wood as it did so.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the door eventually creaked open, and Balud’s dark beady eyes were blinking up at me. I pasted on a smile.

  “Hi! Remember me?”

  He stared silently at me. Okay, then. I tried to remember what Solus has said when we’d visited before. Maybe there was some kind of protocol involved that I was missing.

  “I’m here to buy some weapons,” I folded my arms and tried to look as serious and forbidding as possible. “If I can afford them.”

  The troll’s nose wrinkled ever so slightly. Oops. Probably shouldn’t have said that part.

  “Not that I don’t have money,” I added in hastily. “I have lots of money. I could buy many things if I wanted to. Although when I say afford, I mean it in an, er, existential fashion. Being able to afford it,” I sketched imaginary quotation marks around those words, “depends on whether the quality matches the price.”

  Balud’s nose wrinkled further. Fuck. Now I’d just managed to insult the potential value of his merchandise. I sighed. “That didn’t come out right. Look, I was here before with a friend of mine,” I wasn’t going to stoop so low as to name drop Solus just yet, “and he helped me buy a couple of daggers. They were great. Or they would have been great if the people I was trying to use them against hadn’t taken them off me as soon as they saw them anyway. I’m looking for something similar now. Please?”

  He stared me for another long moment then finally spoke. “You talk too much.” He turned and headed inside, leaving the door open so I could follow. Thank goodness. Although he’d been a bit bloody politer when I’d been with Solus, it was oddly refreshing to have someone who wasn’t trying desperately to suck up to me.