Bloodfire

Everyone, apart from Anton, was in the airy canteen by the time we arrived. There was a brief lull in the conversation when I walked in, some eyes reflecting approval whilst others showed distaste and even a tinge of fear. Whether that was because of the danger my actions had created, or because of the danger of me myself, I didn’t know and didn’t care to wonder. I also didn’t dare look over at the Brethren’s table to see what was in their eyes. Aiming for a nonchalant air, I tried to move towards the nearest empty chair without looking like I was in pain. It really wasn’t very easy at all and my head was woozy by the time I made it. Betsy pulled up a chair beside me and chattered away as if there was nothing remarkable at all going on. Bit by bit, everyone else returned to their lunch.



Unfortunately I realised rather belatedly that the outside catering Johannes had called had set up a buffet. Excellent. More walking. More standing. More pain. I reached down under the table and began pulling out one of the screws from the side leg. It took me some time, and poor Betsy was struggling to find enough inanities to blather about to cover me, but I eventually managed it. Palming the screw, I nodded at her and we stood up. I dug the screw sharply into the palm of my hand. The returning sharp pain was an antidote to the constant drug dulled ache from Anton’s exertions, and would keep my senses alert long enough to make it to the buffet table and back again without fainting. As I walked I pushed it in further, breaking the skin and drawing blood. When we passed the Brethren’s table I thought I saw the Lord Alpha inhale sharply, but there was no way on earth that he’d be able to smell a few drops of fresh blood right now after all the many drops that had just been spilt in the gym. Then I panicked that the lotion must have rubbed off during Tom’s medical ministrations and that I hadn’t re-applied it again properly and my humanity was starting to seep through. However I must have imagined it because he returned to his plate, with a brief flash of brilliant white teeth visible as he bit into a slice of crusty bread.



I picked up a plate and lay it down on the side so I could manage the buffet without letting go of the screw in my palm. With one hand, I randomly selected bits of food to fill it up. I desperately needed to eat but my earlier anticipation of dining on something other than Johannes’ food had gone. Now I just needed the calories. Betsy was forking spoonfuls of what looked like a creamy curry on her plate next to me when Lucy, the Brethren girl from earlier, came up.



“So, not much of a fighter, then?” She inquired archly.



I blushed, annoying myself. “Ummm…it’s complicated.”



“ I heard,” she said, with a glance over her shoulder at Tom. “He’s cute. “



I coughed slightly and continued putting food on my plate, in an awkward one-handed fashion.



“You must be hurting a bit after that, especially with not shifting. “ She peered at me from under her bangs. “It might not be such a clever idea to do that, you know. Not shift. I mean, I get the idea of honouring your guy’s death and all that, but if you’re really sore…” her voice trailed off.



She had absolutely no idea. “It’s fine,” I muttered. “I’m fine.”



“Yes, so fine that you’re putting chocolate cake on top of your shepherd’s pie.”



I looked down at my plate. Oops. “I have a varied palate,” I said shrugging, wishing she would just go away.



“Lucy,” said a deep smooth voice, “can you go and check on the status of the mage’s arrival?”



She snapped to attention and at once bobbed her head, light brown hair bouncing off her shoulders as she did so. The Lord Alpha. As if things couldn’t get any worse. Lucy marched off smartly whilst he took a grape off a nearby plate and looked at me in much the same way that a cat would like at a mouse before it pounces on it and kills it. I squared my shoulders and craned my neck slightly to look back at him. I could just barely register Betsy’s panic from over his shoulder but I kept my expression as calm as I could.



He popped the grape into his mouth and chewed slowly. Wasn’t he going to say something? His green eyes held mine steadily but he remained silent. Damnit, I needed to think of something to say then. Weather?



“It’s fortunate the rain held off,” I said. God, I was an inane idiot sometimes.



He continued to look at me without speaking but I could swear there was a measure of amusement in his eyes now. I felt waves of power emanating from his still body and wondered briefly at the apparent fact that he’d had to fight for the Brethren leadership position. I tugged nervously at my ponytail. “I mean, then you’ll be able to find the trail of whatever killed John without the scent being washed away.”



He leaned closer into me and I caught a sudden whiff of a deep, clean and very masculine smell. I felt slightly woozy again and tightened my grip on the screw.



He finally said something. “Were you there?”



“Uh, where?” I barely resisted the urge to take a step back.



“At the beach. When his body was discovered.”



I had no idea what to say. Should I say yes or try and lie? “Ummm….”



Betsy took that moment to rescue me by dropping her plate to the floor where it made an almighty crash and splattered food in twenty different directions. The Brethren Alpha turned around so quickly it made my head spin.



She giggled. “Oh, I’m so clumsy! It’s just you made me nervous standing there. I had no idea that the Brethren were so powerful in person, and you the Lord Alpha as well.” I could swear she batted her eyelashes just then. “Just what is your name?”



I walked away before I could hear the answer, gripping my plate tightly. I owed her more than one by now.



After lunch was over, the Brethren rose smoothly as if they were one and headed outside. Apparently this time they were all going to the scene of John’s death to see it for themselves and then our interviews, or rather interrogations, would begin on their return. I was starting to feel more normal now that I had food in my belly, but I definitely thought that a bit of an afternoon siesta was called for. That way I could wake up in control, out of pain, and ready. The other pack members wandered off to do their own thing, whilst I made for the dorm. I supposed that I technically should go to the room that Tom and I ‘shared’, but I knew that my narrow bed in the dorm would make me more comfortable.



Two hours later I woke back up, feeling slightly groggy. The pain in my side was still ridiculously annoying but it was becoming more manageable. I didn’t dare take any more painkillers just yet. I pulled on an old sweatshirt and went in search of some strong black coffee.



The keep itself was very quiet. I passed a couple of pack members who were moving quietly about their own business, but it was clear that most were outside somewhere and that the Brethren hadn’t returned yet. All the better for me.



I hadn’t been able to find my favourite chipped mug where I usually left it, so I tried to backtrack to where I’d last seen it. I was definitely something of a hoarder and didn’t like to replace items unless it was absolutely necessary so I thought hard before realising that I must have put it down in the office when I went to check the weather on the Othernet. That had been before going out for my run on the morning of John’s death. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.



I let myself into the small space, immediately seeing it propped precariously on top of a pile of papers. Letting out a small happy sigh of satisfaction I moved to pick it up, slipping past John’s study door as I did so. I paused, as a thought suddenly struck me. It was just possible that there would be some information about the wichtlein and his thoughts on it on his computer. I’d never ever normally even consider broaching his sanctuary like that - but he was dead now and could hardly be hurt by my intrusion into his privacy. And I might dig up something that would help me find his killer.



I didn’t give it another second thought and walked deliberately back to the study door, wrenching it open with purpose. Even though the office door itself was closed, I took an involuntary glance backward to make sure no-one was watching and then stepped inside. I left the door slightly ajar behind me so that I could listen for any signs of the pack or the Brethren returning.



It was neat and tidy, and almost comforting in its familiarity. It was almost as if the essence of him still clung to the air. I didn’t want to sit down in his old cracked red leather chair - that just seemed like too much of an intrusion - so I perched on his desk instead and booted up the computer.



It whirred to life and the screen lightened to the login page. Shit. I had absolutely no idea what John would have used for his password. I thought carefully and then tried typing in his birthday. The error screen popped up almost immediately. Then I tried pack, Cornwall, shapeshifter, even password, but none of them worked. My fingers drummed on the desk impatiently. John wasn’t particularly tech savvy so I doubted he’d have picked something really secure like a string of random letters and numbers. Perhaps he’d left a note of the password lying around his desk. I started to lift up papers but there was nothing that jumped out. Still feeling slightly guilty at nosing around his personal belongings, I began opening up the desk drawers. The top one just contained an array of slightly chewed pens missing their lids, and the odd paperclip, whilst the next one down was filled to the brim with printouts of the pack’s financial statements. The bottom drawer had a slight buzz around it as if it was warded.



I carefully lifted out one of the chewed pens and touched the tip of it to the lock on the bottom drawer. It started to singe slightly and melt. Okay, then, not that drawer just yet then. I looked around the rest of the office for guidance. There were shelves overflowing with every conceivable shifter how-to guide. Paperbacks on different otherworld species, hardbacks on weapons and fighting techniques, even a large edition of Cooking With Aunt May, ‘everyone’s favourite lupine chef’. My side was starting to hurt again and I put my hand out to steady myself on the desk. Instead of the hard wood, however, my hand met with a heavy paperweight. John had always had it, for at least as long as I’d known him.

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