Blood Politics

Now that I was to the rear of my trackers, I was in a position to find out exactly who it was wasting their time following me around. I still didn’t really care whether they were there or not, but I was curious who the might and power of the Otherworld had decided to send to babysit me. The first one was easy to spot, not just because she was frantically searching up the street for me, but because I also knew her. I hadn’t been naïve enough to presume that Corrigan himself would spend his entire time following me around, the previous night’s encounter notwithstanding, but I still felt the slightest twinge of disappointment that it was Lucy, the honeybadger shifter with the appetite of a horse who I’d first met in Cornwall, and not the Lord Alpha himself. Telling myself that I felt that way just because I’d wanted to prove that I could give Corrigan the slip without even breaking into a sweat, I dismissed her, and looked for the others.



Where Lucy had by now managed to start crossing the road, the other two were still standing on the opposite side, about halfway down the block. It was apparent that the reason they’d not started to come after me was due to the fact that there were starting to come after each other. They were facing each other, clearly squaring off, while the shoppers nearby gave them a wide berth and more than a few nervous glances. I chuckled to myself, and leaned backwards slightly to get a better look. The mage, not anyone I’d previously encountered, had his back to me, but his profession was recognisable thanks to his odd attire. It seemed to be de rigeur that as soon as mages made it out of the academy, they ended up in attention-grabbing clothing that proclaimed their distinct personalities as loudly as possible. Having spent barely a couple of months wearing the constricting mage uniform myself, I didn’t blame them. This particular specimen was wearing shocking pink neon jeans and a green t-shirt, with some kind of floppy hat perched on his head. Clearly, staying unobtrusive wasn’t high on the mages’ list of intentions and I wondered what it said about me that they didn’t care that I’d know I was being followed. It seemed likely that it was more about making sure that the shifters and the faeries knew he was there than anything else.



I watched as he reached over to the Fae opposite him and gave him a tiny shove. Apparently Beltran still hadn’t been relieved of his duty yet. He leaned in towards the mage and flicked him on the nose. I snickered. Despite my amusement, however, the tension in both their bodies was clear; their mutual hatred was visible even from across the crowded street.



“Quite a show they’re putting on,” commented a voice next to me, making me jump.



I cursed myself for being so wrapped up in the proceedings that were unfolding between Beltran and the mage that I’d not been paying attention to what was nearby, and glanced over at the owner of the voice, before immediately relaxing. It was a slight, bespectacled chap who I’d never seen before, but who clearly was about as dangerous as a tub of margarine.



“Mmm,” I murmured agreement.



“Do you think I should call the police?” he asked, with a slightly anxious tone.



That probably wasn’t a good idea. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll sort it out themselves,” I said reassuringly. “There’s no point in escalating the situation further.” Or getting the human police wrapped up in affairs of the Otherworld at least.



I continued to watch the pair of them, wondering whether I should intervene and nip their posturing in the bud. Before I could make a decision either way, however, Lucy reappeared next to them. She gesticulated irritably in my direction. I guessed that my scent had finally given me away, and wondered if it would be worth my while getting in touch with Julia to see if she could make me up some masking lotion in case of future encounters. I discarded the idea as pointless almost immediately. Corrigan could contact me whenever he wanted through the Voice, the mages just needed to set up a simple Divination spell if they wanted to find me and, if I allowed a single drop of blood to fall, the Fae – well, Solus anyway - would know exactly where I was. It highlighted how ridiculous the whole notion of them all following me around really was.



Beltran and the mage turned towards me, frowning.



“You know them?” The man beside me asked, with a curious note in his voice.



“Not exactly,” I answered, smiling at him politely and hoping he’d continue on his way. Fortunately, he seemed to get the message as he smiled back and nodded, then made to cross the road himself.



Lucy, Beltran and the mage were all staring at me so I gave them a grin and a little wave. None of them looked particularly happy. I shrugged. That was hardly my concern. My stomach rumbled, reminding me why I was outside in the first place. My original curiosity satisfied, I headed back down the street to finally pick up some lunch.



Chapter Three



When I eventually made it back to Clava Books, the bell on the door signalling my return, Mrs. Alcoon and Slim were in the midst of a full throated discussion.



“Dear, the alchemy collection needs to go at the front. “



“Don’t fecking call me dear. And you can’t put it at the front.” Slim put his hands on his flower wrapped hips. “It’s not for human consumption. It needs to be kept at the back for the real readers.”



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.