Blood Politics (Blood Destiny 4)

by Harper, Helen

  Mrs. Alcoon raised her eyebrows. “So humans aren’t real readers?”

  “You know what I fecking mean,” he grumbled loudly. “Those books are dangerous. You can’t just let anyone get their hands on them.”

  “And why not? The number of people, human or otherwise, who genuinely possess the ability to make any kind of use out of these books is miniscule. Anyone who purchases them is doing so out of curiosity, not out of some bizarre need to turn objects into gold.”

  “Are you fecking mad, woman?” Slim screeched. “Alchemy is not about turning things into gold. It’s much more complex than that.” His wings flapped, indicating his annoyance. “We should have kept you in fecking stasis when we had the chance.”

  I cleared my throat before things got out of hand. They both turned and glared at me.

  “Mackenzie, dear, you’ve been gone a terribly long time.”

  “Sorry,” I said with a trace of guilt, realising belatedly that leaving these two on their own really hadn’t been the best idea in the world. “I had a couple of things to sort out.”

  “Well, you should fecking take care of things later, shouldn’t you?” snapped Slim.

  “Don’t talk to her like that.”

  Slim’s wings flapped harder. “I’ll talk to her any fecking way I please. I’m doing you two a favour by being here.”

  “Well, Mr. Slim,” said Mrs. Alcoon calmly, “you are free to leave if you wish.”

  The little gargoyle muttered something under his breath.

  “Sorry, dear? I didn’t quite catch that.”

  “Oh, I’ll stay,” he muttered again. “But only because you’ll upset the delicate balance of the Otherworld all on your own if I don’t.” He rose heavily up into the air from his perch on the counter, and flew through to the kitchenette.

  As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Alcoon turned to me. “I really rather like him, Mackenzie dear.”

  “You could have fooled me,” I said disbelievingly, pulling out the bread and fillings that I’d just purchased.

  “Oh,” she gave a short, dismissive chuckle. “That’s just banter. He’s really rather cute in fact.”

  I considered suggesting that she avoided telling Slim that she thought he was ‘cute’, but decided that would probably mean she would take every opportunity to point it out to him. While this was a side to Mrs. Alcoon that I’d not previously encountered, I did know a fair amount about how friendly banter had the potential to go very wrong. It was probably best not to get involved. She gazed down at the jar of mayonnaise that I’d set out onto the wooden counter.

  “He doesn’t really live up to his name though, does he?”

  Puzzled, I frowned over at her.

  “I mean,” she said by way of explanation, “he’s not very slim.” Mrs. Alcoon picked up the mayonnaise and pushed it underneath the shelf under the till and out of sight. “It’ll do him good to avoid fatty foods,” she said, nodding solemnly to herself.

  Yup. It was definitely a good idea for me to keep my mouth shut.

  *

  Several hours – and several bouts of bickering later – we were pretty much done. The books were all on the shelves and, although there had been several moments of disagreement about where some sections should be placed, we eventually managed to get there, with Mrs. Alcoon marking off all the stock as we did so. I rubbed the edge of my t-shirt sleeve against my forehead, wiping off the layer of sweat and grime, then sank down onto the floor.

  “Three days ahead of schedule,” Mrs. Alcoon stated proudly.

  “Ahem,” Slim coughed pointedly.

  She beamed at him. “Of course we couldn’t have done it without you, Slim dear.”

  She reached over to where he hovered in the air and gave him a peck on the cheek. I watched in astonishment as he flushed in embarrassed pleasure. Some days I thought I’d never understand people. Or living breathing gargoyles.

  “I could come back you know. To help out from time to time after you’ve opened up properly.” He scowled to himself, “But only because you clearly need some fecking proper professional help.”

  “Why, Mr Slim, that would be lovely. Thank you, dear.”

  He coughed again then swivelled round to face me. “You should take care,” he said gruffly.

  I must have looked surprised because he elaborated further. “A lot of people know what you are and a lot of people want a piece of you. You should choose your friends wisely.” He jerked his head back towards Mrs. Alcoon. “She’s a good’un - if you can keep her in fecking line.”

  “Um, thanks,” I stuttered slightly, “I think.”

  He nodded his head and then made for the portal that was already beginning to gleam and shiver in the air, vanishing quickly before our eyes.

  “Those portal things are really rather useful, aren’t they?” commented Mrs. Alcoon.

  I begged to differ, but I stayed silent and just smiled at her.

  “He’s right, you know,” said Mrs. Alcoon. “A lot of dangerous people now know the truth about you, Mackenzie. You can’t keep pretending otherwise. The shop is ready and we don’t open up until Monday. That leaves five days. Why don’t you take some time off and sort yourself out?” She gave me a hard stare. “Get in touch with that fairy fellow who has your book.”

  I frowned at her. “If Solus had anything to tell me then he’d have been in touch by now.”

  “From what you told me, he was embarrassed by the way he acted before when he thought you’d been lying. Maybe he’s waiting for you to contact him first.”

  I very much doubted that Solus really ever got embarrassed by anything. But she was right, he still had my book. It was a strange sentient thing that had found me first in Inverness and then afterwards at the mages’ academy, and purported to tell the history and secrets of the Draco Wyr. Unfortunately it was written in Fae so I’d tricked Solus into reading it for me so I didn’t have to spend months of work on translation. It hadn’t worked out very well.

  I shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I’ll try that.”

  “Mackenzie Smith,” said Mrs. Alcoon sharply. “You’ve been prevaricating for months. He knows more about your heritage than you do and it’s time you stopped acting as if nothing has happened. You need to, what is it that they say? Mane up?

  “Man up,” I muttered.

  “Man up, then. The Mackenzie Smith I knew up in Inverness wouldn’t have let the grass grow so idly under her feet. Get in touch with this Salus fellow…”

  “Solus.”

  “This Solus fellow, and find out what you need to know. Then you’ll be free to get on with the rest of your life. Your young man won’t wait around forever, you know.”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” I said, grumpily, being deliberately obtuse.

  “Mackenzie,” Mrs. Alcoon said gently, “don’t be an idiot. You’re worried about your Draco Wyr side and what might happen if you shift again, and you’re worried that your Lord Alpha gentleman will break your heart. And because of those worries, you’re not living your life. Sort yourself out before one of those goons out there who’s following you around does it for you.”

  I stared at her in surprise.

  “You’re not the only one who is aware of their surroundings, dear. Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on. You can’t hide from yourself forever.”

  “I’m scared,” I said, in a small voice.

  “Of course you’re scared. But you’re also the bravest person I know. So start showing some of that bravery and sort yourself out.”

  For a long moment I didn’t answer. Then I took a deep breath. “Okay, I can contact Solus and see what he says. You’re right. I need to find out what the book says. But the only reason that Corrigan is interested in me is because everyone else is.”

  “Are you so sure about that?”

  “Well,” I paused, “that and the fact that he’s enjoying the chase. As soon as I give in, if I give in, he’ll get bored and move onto something else.”

&n
bsp; “And if you don’t do anything he’ll move on eventually anyway, so what have you got to lose?”

  Everything, I thought. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cope with the idea of having Corrigan to myself for how ever long that might be, then be forced to watch him move onto pastures new with barely more than an ‘it’s been fun, kitten’. The man might irritate the hell out of me but being ignored by him would be so very much worse.

  I forced a smile onto my face. “I’ll get in touch with Solus,” I repeated.

  Mrs. Alcoon sighed. “Then I suppose that’ll have to do for now. I’ll be right here if you need any help.”

  I felt a hard ache of rising tears bottle themselves up in my chest. “Thanks.”

  “You’re my family now, Mackenzie, you know that.” She patted me on the hand. “I’ll see you back here bright and early on Monday morning, and not before.”

  I nodded, not trusting my voice any further, then managed a watery smile and picked up my backpack, walking out and leaving the little shop behind.

  *

  I was more nervous than I cared to admit about contacting Solus again. Deciding I’d wait a couple of hours to get up the courage first, I walked home, dimly aware that I was still being followed but too lost in my thoughts to really care. Just before I reached the steps up to my block of flats, however, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. I spun round, immediately in defence mode, then relaxed when I saw who it was.

  “Tom!” I said, pleased, reaching over to give him a hug.

  “Hey, Red,” he grinned at me with the ease of an old friend. “You’re looking good.”

  “I thought you were now too important to the Brethren to be given babysitting duty.”

  He looked slightly embarrassed and shuffled from left to right. “Well, I have something I wanted to give you. That Betsy and I wanted to give you.” He reddened slightly and reached back into the inside pocket of his jacket, then pulled out a creamy expensive looking envelope. “Here.” He thrust it out to me.

  I took it, then looked askance at him. He lifted a shoulder, half-shrugging. “We’ve set a date.”

  “Oh, fantastic!” I leaned in to hug him again. “Tom! I’m so happy for the two of you.”

  He beamed at me, his smile reaching from ear to ear. “You’ll come, won’t you? To the wedding?”

  “Nothing would make me happier. When is it?”

  “August 14th. We thought the weather would be nice then.” He looked down at the ground for a moment then back up at me. “It’s going to be in Cornwall.”

  Oh. I felt my heart squeeze momentarily at the thought of my old home. “Okay. Um, yes, sure. I can still be there.”

  He appeared slightly anxious for a second. “Betsy spoke to Anton. He won’t cause any trouble. Not now that everyone knows you’re not a shifter.”

  A grimace crossed my face. “It turns out I’m more of a shifter than everyone realised.”

  Tom looked confused.

  “Ignore me,” I muttered. As much as a part of my old life that Tom was, and as much as he already knew about me, he clearly had other things going on in his life that didn’t need to be complicated by me and my problems. It was good to know at least that Corrigan hadn’t gone telling all of his little Brethren minions the truth about my dragon side.

  Tom, thankfully, let it go. “Oh, before I forget,” he said, digging into his pocket again, “Lord Corrigan asked me to give you this.” He held out a key.

  I stared at it for a moment, frowning. “What’s it for?”

  He shrugged. “I dunno, Red, he didn’t say.” A mischievous look crossed his face. “The key to his heart?”

  I thumped him on the arm. “Fuck off.”

  “He’s not really been out with anyone else, you know. Not the whole time that I’ve been with the Brethren.”

  “I do log on occasionally to the Othernet, Tom,” I scoffed. ‘I’ve seen his string of ladies.”

  He looked at me earnestly. “That’s just for show. More often than not, they’re already spoken for. There’s not been anyone serious.”

  Suspicion filled me. “Did he order you to tell me that?”

  Tom looked hurt. “No. Just because I’m with the Brethren doesn’t mean I can’t think for myself, and it doesn’t mean I’d manipulate you like that.”

  “If he compelled you,” I pointed out, “you’d do whatever he wanted.”

  “He’s never done that. He’s not a bad person, Red.”

  I sighed. “I know he’s not, Tom. He’s just another complication that I don’t need right now. And I certainly don’t need half the world trying to match-make me with him.”

  Tom widened his eyes and tried to look innocent. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  I snorted. “Sure you don’t.”

  He grinned at me. “Anyway, look, I’ve got to go. Maybe we can catch up properly some time. Have a real sparring session like back in the good old days.”

  “I’d really like that.”

  ”Be seeing you.”

  He loped off back down the street. I watched him go, a fond expression on my face, until I glanced over and realised that there was a both a new Fae and a new mage staring at me suspiciously, as if I’d been cavorting somehow with the enemy. I rolled my eyes at them expressively then turned and headed inside.

  Chapter Four

  Before I’d even reached my front door, I’d realised what the key was for. The gleaming lacquered red paint virtually screamed at me from the other end of the hallway. I wondered whether the colour had been his choice or not and stared down at the key in my hand, supposing that I should have expected no less. After all, he’d been the one who’d broken the bloody thing down in the first place. It was nice of him to bother fixing it.

  Then I shook myself. Who the fuck was I kidding? Corrigan wouldn’t have fixed it; he’d just have ordered someone else to do it for him. Much like he’d ordered Tom to come and give me the key. That was what being the head of one of the largest Otherworld organisations meant, I reminded myself. Having far too much power and far too many opportunities to make others do your bidding. I did not need to get myself involved with that any more than I already was. Stupid fucking Brethren.

  I unlocked the door and stepped inside, then hissed in further anger. On the kitchen table was a delicate china vase filled with flowers. Their sweet scent filled the small flat. So it wasn’t enough that he had to break down my door and then send someone else to fix it, but he also got someone to invade my privacy and enter my living space at the same time. Prick. He had no sense of boundaries. I dropped my backpack in the corner, the books inside thumping loudly against the floor as I did so, and scowled to myself.

  There was a sharp knock at the door. I marched over and flung it open, ready to give him a piece of my mind. It wasn’t a shifter standing there waiting, however, it was a mage – the one who was now trailing me around.

  “What?” I snapped.

  I probably should have softened my tone a bit as the poor guy looked absolutely terrified. He bent down and picked up a box then handed it to me. “Here.” There was a definite tremor on his voice. “This is from the Arch-Mage. With his compliments.”

  I stared at him for a moment, then took the box. “Thanks.”

  The mage turned and virtually ran away back down the corridor. I closed the door, carried the box into the kitchen and unwrapped it. It was a coffee machine. State of the art by the look of it, and with several cartons of rich dark coffee included. I was tempted to throw it back out of the door, even though I’d forgotten to buy coffee on my way home and it would be more than handy to have around.

  I shook my head to myself. “You are far too easily bought, Mack.”

  Sitting down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs, I eyed both the flowers and the coffee machine, wondering what Corrigan and the Arch-Mage thought they were trying to gain. Really, I should return the gifts: I didn’t want anyone to think I was a pushover. I reached out and touched the coffee machine. It was fa
r nicer than anything I’d be able to afford myself. But I couldn’t accept it. And if I couldn’t accept the coffee machine, then I couldn’t accept Corrigan’s flowers either. The front door was another matter – that had been his fault in the first place. I picked both of them back up and was about to head outside to reluctantly hand them back to my babysitters when there was yet another knock.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I growled, dropping both the vase and the coffee machine back onto the table and stomping towards the door, flinging it back open.

  It was the Fae this time. “Of course,” I said, sarcastically. “And what are you bringing?”

  He bowed wordlessly and handed me over a small package, then elegantly twisted on his toes and left the same way as the terrified mage had. I sighed deeply, then opened it up. My eyes widened when I saw what it was though. Fuck. I closed my front door yet again and walked slowly back to the kitchen, laying it carefully on the table. I reached out to touch the paper and then snatched my hand back again. Well, I could hardly give the things back now. What the Fae had given me was a perfectly translated version of the Draco Wyr tome that I’d given to Solus – the very text that I’d been on the verge of contacting him about. I couldn’t dump it back in the arms of the anonymous Fae outside and then demand that Solus tell me what it was all about. And if I couldn’t give the Faes their gift back, then I couldn’t give the mages and the shifters theirs back either because they’d scream and shout that I was being unfair. This was freaking ridiculous; I really didn’t need to have to deal with the constant one-upmanship.

  I rubbed my eyes. I was going to have sort this out and sit down with all three of them. If they wanted to follow me around then that was their prerogative, but they had to respect my space and had to stop buying me things. I understood that discovering a Draco Wyr in their midst had them all excited, but each and every one of them was going to have to tone it down. I wasn’t a toy. I pursed my lips and decided that first thing the next morning I’d contact them all. Enough was enough. Right now, however, I needed to clear my head and give myself some space before the simmer in my veins exploded into real flames. If I stayed here with the Fae text and as much coffee as I could drink in a month, then I’d be up all night reading it. I knew that I might not like what I read either. It could wait another day; instead I was going to go for a run and get some fresh air. The exercise would sort me out for now.