Bloodmagic (Blood Destiny 2)

by Helen Harper

All of a sudden there was a rumble and a crash. One of them, I assumed the Trekkie, was over-turning the bookshelves. They were stacked pretty close to each other and towered high up to the ceiling. The effect created was somewhat of a domino line, with each shelf crashing into the next one, taking away all of my cover and leaving me nowhere to hide. Well, if that was the way they wanted to play it then fine. I jumped out from behind the safety of the shelf just before it too went crashing against the hard wooden floor, and pulled out the silver needle from behind my head. My hair fell loose, swinging irritatingly against my face, but I ignored it and focused on the figure in front of me. The heat inside me directed my actions and, with one twist of my wrist, I sent the needle flashing towards it. I sprang back behind the sturdy counter that housed the till and ducked down, without waiting to see if I’d hit my mark, although the answering yelp of pain assured me that I had.

  “We could just talk about this first, you know,” I shouted out to the now dust-filled shop. “There’s no need to be so hasty.”

  Silence answered me. Clearly they weren’t in any mood to negotiate. I shrugged. I’d given them their chance and already made my point. It had been a while since I’d had a real fight. Punching a Fae and dealing with a drunk Derek had hardly allowed me to let loose much of my pent up energy. Neither had struggling against the steel hard grip of Corrigan for that matter. It was about time I had a little fun. The tension of the last hours swam through my veins in unrestrained heat, until prickles of fire hit my eyelids and took over. Without conscious thought, I leapt out from behind the counter and pulled up the heavy old-fashioned till, yanking it from its power socket and flinging it towards where I’d heard the needle induced shout of pain. It banged against the leg of the fallen male mage who went from clutching his cheek where the silver had pierced through to grabbing hold of his leg. Martha was standing in the opposite corner, next to the fallen stacks of shelves. Her body was tense and her fists were clenched, leaning every so slightly to the left. I jumped to my right and just managed to escape the shooting orange beam that she sent, then I ran at her headlong, barreling into her stomach and smacking her against the window.

  The impact of her body against the hard glass sent me momentarily bouncing back, scuffing a fallen bookshelf with my heels. I heard sounds of Trekkie staggering slowly to his feet so I picked up one of the fallen books, flinging it hard in his direction. The buzz that registered through my hand before it left my fingers gave me the sudden grim satisfaction that it was the Fae book that had become my weapon. It must be my day to be making the Wee Ones work for me, I figured. Unfortunately, it didn’t deter him too much and the air in the small shop started to hum with power. His eyes had turned glassy and he was chanting something under his breath. Blue light was starting to ripple around him, not unlike what Alex had conjured when he was using a tracing spell down in Cornwall. Before I could react further, I felt a clawing, suffocating band of pain round my throat, squeezing it tight. Panicking I gulped for air. Martha was back on her feet, also muttering something, also with blue light suffusing itself around her.

  I sank to my knees, fingers scrabbling at my throat as I tried to suck in air desperately. Almost every vestige of conscious thought had fled from my mind – all I could think of was my closed airway and the screaming pain and pressure building in my lungs. I scrunched my eyes up tight and sucked up the last part of flame from inside my stomach and them, without thinking further, wrenched my hands away from my neck and flung them out in opposite directions each pointing towards a different mage. Imagining a flash of green fire behind my eyelids, I concentrated as hard as I was able, feeling the tingle of Maggie’s unhappy gift shoot again from my fingertips. Air crackled around me. The chanting from both magicians abruptly stopped and the hum in the room blinked out like a light. I fell forward onto my hands and knees, choking, opening my eyes and becoming dimly aware of the green tinged glow coming from both sides of the shop. Forcing myself to move as quickly as I could, I pulled myself to my feet and flicked a glance in both directions. The green fire was completely consuming both mages, who were silently screaming from behind a wall of flame. It didn’t seem to be burning them conventionally in the way that a normal fire would, although the shop and its contents around them were lighting up like dry kindling. Rather my attack seemed to be holding them in place, nullifying their own blue light and rooting them to the spot as the building around them burned.

  The acrid smell of burning paper and wood had completely filled the area. Martha’s eyes were wide and terror filled, whilst Trekkie’s arms were flailing around uselessly. I paused for a heartbeat then sprang towards him, pulling his body away from the flame and yanking him towards the street. I placed my hand on the knob of the glass front door to turn it, but the metal seared into my skin, tearing off shreds of flesh as I snatched my hand back. Still holding onto Trekkie’s arm with my other hand, I mustered up every atom of power I could and kicked out with my booted foot at the glass. Thankfully it shattered easily and I jumped out the jagged exit I’d created, dragging him after me. I thrust his body down onto the road, away from the kerb and the heat of the now explosively burning bookshop, then ducked my head down and went back inside.

  Martha was in the spot where I’d last seen her, against the front window of the shop. The shelves that she’d so cleverly knocked down scant moments before were ablaze and fire was licking up the sides of the walls, eating up the curling faded wallpaper. The smoke was becoming thicker by the second. Pulling up my t-shirt to cover my nose and mouth I reached for her and tugged her arm sharply to get her away from whatever strange immobilising properties my shot of green light had created. She barely moved, however. Through the clouds of smoke I just made out her eyes staring down in panic at her foot. I glanced down. It was caught underneath the edge of one of the heavy wooden shelves. I could feel her pull at it to get out but it didn’t seem to shift. The heat inside the shop was becoming almost completely unbearable. Martha stared at me with wide eyes. Flecks of orange light danced behind her pupils. Raising up a single index finger, I pointed at her as if I was holding an imaginary gun. Her muscles tensed and her eyes squeezed tight. I moved my finger down and then flicked it at the offending shelf. A flickering beam of green light shot its way towards the wood, which then, abruptly, exploded in cloud of splinters. Barely registering the shards of wood that had embedded themselves into my clothes and skin, I tugged at her body again. This time, her feet came free and we were moving towards the shattered door and out into the sweet clear night air of the street.

  In the distance, the wail of sirens could faintly be heard. I turned and stared at Clava Books, sucking in the fresh air in loud gasps. The paint was peeling away from the old sign and flames and smoke were billowing out from the hole in the door. I felt a dull ache in my chest as Mrs Alcoon’s pride and joy disappeared whilst I watched. Tears streamed from my eyes and I tried to blink them away. Feeling a yank from my hand, I turned to my left and realised I was still holding onto Martha. I let go and she backed away, tripping up over her feet and falling to the cobbled road below. Trekkie was now on the opposite side of the road, away from the searing heat emanating from the shop, looking from me to Martha to the inferno and back again. I opened my mouth to say something then thought better of it. The sirens were getting louder. I turned on my feet and just ran.

  Internally, I knew the smart move was to get as far away from Inverness as possible. I was desperate to pick up my box, my laptop and my clothes from the bedsit, however. I’d had to cut and run and leave everything in Cornwall; I had no desire to do exactly the same thing again. I figured that the police and the fire brigade would have their hands full for at least the next hour putting out the blaze at Clava Books to worry about coming by to see where one of the bookshop’s employees were. They’d probably try and track down Mrs Alcoon as the owner first and there was no way on earth that they’d find her any time soon. A Fae’s word was their bond and, whilst I didn’t believe I could yet comple
tely trust Solus, I knew that as far as she was concerned he wouldn’t let me down. The police would assume that she’d been killed in the fire, which would at least mean that they wouldn’t be looking for a missing person for the time being. I stopped momentarily in my tracks. Fuck. That did mean that they might be looking for someone who might have committed arson and tried to kill her, though. The logical suspect would be me. I started running again, scenarios tripping through my mind. There was no-one who would vouch for my good character. The regulars back at Arnie’s bar – and Arnie himself – would tell them that I had a nasty temper and was capable of violence. And as for Maggie, well, she’d been prepared to set the Ministry onto her best friend just because of the threat she believed I posed, so clearly I couldn’t expect any help from that direction. Alex had said on the phone that when Corrigan had asked the Ministry to set up a locator spell on me they’d refused. That was probably because they didn’t wish to involve themselves in shifter politics. I was pretty sure that they wouldn’t be so reluctant now that I’d almost killed two of their members.

  Outstanding. I’d gone from having to hide from the Pack, to now having the human side of the law and the magical side of enforcers on my heels. How on earth I was going to get out of this, I had absolutely no idea. I supposed I could get Solus to help me hide with Mrs Alcoon in Tir-na-nog. But not only was there no guarantee that he’d do that – after all I’d already bargained away the only thing I had to offer – also, it was only a temporary solution. I had to find some way to put things right as far as she was concerned. I owed her a lot and I wasn’t about to let her languish in the land of the Fae for the rest of eternity because I’d fucked up.

  I rounded the bend onto the main street. The sirens of the fire engines were now just a bare whisper on the wind. I could see the building of my bedsit up ahead and didn’t think I’d ever been so glad to get back to it. I slowed to a fast walk so that I could double check that it was safe to get in, grab my stuff and skedaddle. I still had no idea where to go or what to do – my options were fairly limited, let’s be fair – but if I was going to help Mrs Alcoon at all I had to make sure that I didn’t caught by any of the various denizens of both the human and the otherworld that were after me.

  The street itself was silent and still. I scanned up and down its length but couldn’t make out anything. Figuring that I probably only had moments at best before either Martha and the Trekkie either caught up or contacted the Ministry who would send someone a damn sight faster – and stronger – than they already had, I jogged across, already pulling my key out of my pocket. I caught a moving shadow out of the corner of my right eye and spun around, attack stance already prepared. I had nothing left to attack with, however. My remaining weapons were inside and I’d lost the silver needles in the shop. It was fortunate, therefore, that it was just a cat, frozen in its tracks as it had caught sight of me. It had sleek black fur and green eyes that gleamed in the glow of the streetlamps.

  “Corrigan,” I half-whispered to myself, watching it decide I was of no interest after all and slink off into the night.

  Kitten.

  I yelped aloud as the man himself entered my head.

  What’s the problem?

  Now I was frozen in place, clutching the keys in my suddenly very sweaty palm and barely daring to breathe. I composed myself and answered him back.

  Problem? I have no idea what you’re talking about, my Lord. Now fuck off and leave me alone. There, that told him.

  There was a moment of silence then his Voice reappeared. Except that this time you called me.

  Errr…what? It was impossible to initiate Voice contact unless you were an alpha. I wasn’t even a shifter so there was just no way…

  Stop playing mind games with me, My Lord. And with that I slammed him out of my head and walked up to the door, beginning to fumble with the lock. It must just be a coincidence that he’d decided to start fucking with me at this point in time. The bastard. He should just learn to leave well alone.

  Once inside, I carefully and quietly closed the front door behind me. I tried to sense whether there was anything or anyone lurking around inside the entrance waiting for me but everything appeared normal. I waited for five beats and then took a deep breath and sprinted up the stairs. Fortunately the carpet was deep enough to mask the sounds of my hurried steps so I swung quickly round the corner and made for my own door.

  As soon as I was inside I quickly reached under the bed and pulled out my box. I flipped it open to double check that everything was there and then opened up the drawers of the rickety wooden dresser, pulling out clothes and stuffing them into my backpack. I laid the box on the top, pausing briefly at the sink to grab my toothbrush and toothpaste and zip them into a side compartment, and thrust a couple of replacement silver needles in the loose knot of hair at the back of my head. Then I left without looking back.

  Chapter Twelve

  I really didn’t have the faintest idea where I was going to go. It was just as well that I left when I did, however, as moments after I’d shut the heavy front door after me, a large black SUV screeched up alongside the kerb. I managed to duck behind the row of cars on the other side of the street, heat coursing through my veins at the nagging worry that if these were mages and they decided to cast a locator spell right now, then it’d take them all of three seconds flat to find me. Fortunately for me, whoever they were, they concentrated instead on the door of the flat. What it definitely did mean was that I had to get as far away from Inverness as possible, regardless of the fact that it was after 2.30 in the morning. I started moving away from the street, keeping low, in case one of them decided to suddenly look up and notice a small figure scurrying away and unleash the powers of the magic otherworld upon me. Damnit, where was I going to go though?

  I thought quickly. I needed to be somewhere the Ministry’s spells wouldn’t be able to reach me and where the police wouldn’t be able to find me. That meant another plane, effectively. The last time I’d been to one it had been through a portal that Iabartu, the demi-goddess, had opened. I didn’t think I was likely to bump into anyone of that kind of power who’d kindly let me into their otherworldly plane just to be friendly though. A gust of wind blew sharply against my face and I shivered involuntarily. It was just my fucking luck that all this was taking place in the frozen north of Scotland in the middle of winter. It would have been nice to have been on the run in the balmy sunshine of the Bahamas, sipping a cocktail and hiding behind the odd sand dune instead of frost laced cars.

  The wind blew again, picking up and causing me to turn up the collar of my inadequate jacket. I turned the corner away from the long street that my little bedsit lay on and straightened up, starting to jog away so I could put more distance between myself and all those who were behind me. Trying to keep my wits about me, and my senses alert, I strained to catch any sounds behind me. From the street parallel there was the distant hum of a car engine and, for an instant, my whole body froze to the spot. Then everything went silent again and I managed to lift up my feet and keep going.

  I considered whether running was the right thing to do. I’d always been much more of a fight girl rather than a flight one, but the dents to my confidence lately suggested that I might struggle against the wrath of the mages who would be furious that I’d dared to tangle with their own. And, of course, this was coupled with the fact that I was now responsible for finding a way to get Mrs Alcoon out of this mess along with not getting caught – because getting caught would mean no doubt that Corrigan would hear of it and get involved and find out that I was human (sort of) and then I’d have his inevitable repercussions on the Cornish pack forced on my conscience also. No, I had no choice but to run, much as it galled me.

  With that thought I picked up the pace and began to jog faster. Which was my undoing. From the shadows of one of the parked cars, came a sudden streak of blackness across the pavement. My foot caught on the edge of it and I tipped headfirst down to the hard cold ground. Instin
ctively, I shot my hands out to catch myself, scuffing the skin on my palms painfully, knees knocking against the concrete with an unpleasant thud. A screeching yowl came from the shape, which then shot past me, turning to stare at me in hatred as it did so. It was the sodding cat that had decided not so long ago that I was a pathetic human not worthy of contempt. I harrumphed.

  “Noticed me now, didn’t you, stupid moggy.”

  The cat glared at me balefully again with its Corrigan green eyes and then slunk off. I shifted my weight, twisting my body to the side to get up from the ungainly position I was in on the pavement, suddenly mindful not only of my raw grazed hands, but also the other aches, pains and embedded wooden splinters from the attack at Clava Books.

  “Fucking cat!” I swore, more at myself and my predicament than the animal itself.

  As I turned to stand up, slowly, I caught sight of the night sky. Stars glimmered more brightly than I thought I’d ever seen them before.

  “Fucking stars,” I hissed at the sky.

  The wind began to blow again, whisking past my cheek.

  “Fucking wind. Fucking night. Fucking Scotland. Fucking freezing,” I continued to curse. “Fucking longest night in the middle of the longest fucking winter, isn’t it?” I wasn’t sure who I’d been expecting to answer me, but just then dawning realisation providing me with the answer for myself hit me like the whack of a sledgehammer. Which was interesting because that’s kind of how my body felt.

  “Fucking Winter Solstice.”

  I stood up, wincing slightly at the pain, and grinned. The Clava Cairns. My trip to pick up the blisterwort for Mrs Alcoon notwithstanding, I didn’t know much about the Cairns themselves. However what I did know from a few of the old tomes from the bookshop was that during the Winter Solstice, they attracted a number of hippy druid types because when the sun went down, the light hit one particular spot at the back wall of one of the Cairns that gave enough of a hint to humankind that they were built with much more design than first glance might suggest. I’d had an inkling that first time I’d read about them when I’d entered Mrs Alcoon’s shop for the first time and pulled that first book off the shelf; I just hadn’t allowed myself to really think about it in depth because I’d been trying to avoid having anything at all to do with the Otherworld, even thoughts. But what I’d always really known without consciously forming the words was that they were a portal, or had been once. Not a particularly powerful one - my previous visit to the Cairns had proven that - but one that worked most effectively during that one particular moment. That moment was gone – it was far too dark and far too late now – and the knowledge of how to work the death gate had probably also disappeared into the annals of lost history anyway. But whatever lingering otherworldly traces there were might well just be enough to cover the traces and tracks that I left that would solve the immediate problem of the mages and their tracking spells. And the hippies were no doubt still there, camping out and stoned, so I could slot myself into one of their groups. That would cover the problem of the police.