Bloodmagic

I didn’t bother looking at it; I just stuffed it into the back pocket of my jeans and smiled sadly at him. “Sure I will, Tom.”



He reached out and touched me gently on the arm, then I turned again for the revolving door with Solus by my side and left.



“I’ve got to say,” murmured Solus once we were out on the pavement, “the Brethren’s recruitment policy seems to have become rather lax in the last year.”



“Fuck off, Solus.”



“I mean, really, I get that he’s a wolf but…”



“Solus, I swear to God…” I turned and faced the Fae, tears threatening to spill over. “Don’t say another word.”



For once, he seemed to understand, and cocked his head slightly for a moment at me, before offering me his arm again. “Okay,” he said softly. “Let’s go get us some weapons.”



Chapter Sixteen



The streets were considerably busier now than they had been before but Solus moved along at a fast gait, weaving in and out of pedestrians. I had to struggle to keep up with his long legged lope and spent the first five minutes biting down hard on my lip to try to compose myself. We twisted right at the first intersection onto a much quieter road that looked as if it was entirely residential. Leafy trees lined the edges of the pavement and, despite the claustrophobia I felt at being locked inside a city, I had to admit that it was rather pretty. Solus began to move even faster, with my hand still clutching his arm, and I had to almost start jogging to keep up. Therefore it wasn’t my fault when I missed the uneven paving stone and tripped right over, heading face first down to the ground before he caught me. He grimaced at me in annoyed exasperation and yanked me back upright. Not trusting my voice to be quaver free just yet, I simply shrugged and carried on. At least Solus slowed down a bit after that though.



Eventually he turned right again, into a dark little alleyway that I would have missed if I’d been on my own. Of course, it was a dark alleyway, I figured to myself. ‘Stereotypes are us’ when it comes to the Otherworld. I dodged a few garbage bins lying out on the street until Solus pointed up some uneven stone steps to a door set back into a grimy grey building. At some point the door had been painted a shiny red colour, but now the paint was peeling off and cracking. Solus reached up to the old-fashioned knocker and rapped it a few times.



We waited for what seemed like an age. I opened my mouth to say something but Solus shushed me before I could begin. Annoyed at being treated like a schoolchild, I folded my arms and looked away. Eventually the door opened. At first, I didn’t think anyone was actually there, then I registered movement below my eye line. Standing in the threshold was a short stumpy character with extraordinarily large ears and small dark beady eyes. A troll. I quickly looked at Solus but he seemed unperturbed.



“We need to procure some weapons,” he said solemnly.



“Certainly, my lord. If you’ll follow me.” The troll opened the door wider and motioned for us to enter.



My eyes narrowed at the Fae as I followed him inside. My lord? I frowned at Solus’ back and hoped that the shopkeeper was just being polite.



We were led through a dark passageway to a room at the back. There was a rickety old wooden table and two dirty plastic chairs that might have once been white. I sat myself down on one and crossed my legs, trying to appear relaxed and as if I regularly went shopping for deadly weapons in dodgy back street stores run by trolls. I hoped there weren’t any bridges nearby.



Solus murmured something to the shopkeeper who went scurrying off.



As soon as he left, I opened my mouth to speak. “A troll? You’ve taken me to a shop run by a troll?”



“What’s your point, dragonlette?”



“They can’t be trusted! John always said…”



Solus put his finger to my mouth, again telling me to be quiet. “Are there any other nearby Otherworld weapons shops you’d rather visit? Perhaps we could go back to Alcazon and ask the Lord Alpha for a recommendation.” I scowled at him. Solus continued. “And stop your prattling and complaining. Trolls have excellent hearing. Offend this one and you are out of options.”



I sighed deeply to illustrate my mistrust but kept my mouth shut. I tried to remind myself that I should be grateful to the Fae for all his help; after all, he’d only promised to keep Mrs Alcoon safe in return for knowing my secret about being a Draco Wyr. He had no reason to continue to helping me out. Before I could wonder too hard about the real reasons for Solus’ charity, the little troll came bustling back in holding a tray. He set it down on top of the table, glaring malevolently at me as he did so. Okay, I guess he had heard my comments about trolls then.



Solus looked over at me and raised his eyebrows. Shrugging, I reached over to the tray. There were several different dirks and daggers. I picked one up and was immediately impressed at its balance and weight. I offered it over to Solus who recoiled away from me.



“Mackenzie…” His voice was strained. I looked back down at the dagger and realised that it was made of iron. Oops.



“Sorry,” I murmured, placing it gently back onto the tray.



I reminded myself that I was going to see some mages. Whether my weapons were made of iron or steel or something else wouldn’t really make a whole lot of difference. The memory of seeing Corrigan and his cronies in the restaurant was still very fresh in my mind, however, so I picked up the nearest silver dirk instead and rolled it around in my hands. It felt good. There was a matching one so I grabbed hold of that also and stood up, feeling the weight of both in my hands. I tried a few thrusts into the air, being careful to avoid aiming anywhere near the shopkeeper who was leaning against the wall and watching me with narrowed eyes. I touched the edge of one of them with my fingertip and was pleased to note a bead of blood appear on my skin. Remembering what trouble I’d invited the last time I’d let my blood fall, I sucked it away and nodded to Solus who was watching the proceedings impassively. He nodded to the troll.



I cleared my throat. “I’ll…uh…need sheathes as well, if you have them.”



The troll blinked in acknowledgement and scurried away, tray in hand. He returned a few moments later with some leather straps. I selected two at random and began to try to attach them to my forearms, fumbling with the straps. Solus watched me for a moment then hissed in irritation and reached over and did them up for me, slotting the dirks into place at the same time. I murmured my thanks and practised sheathing and unsheathing the dirks a few times. They were different to what I was used to, but they would work. I rolled down me sleeves to cover them and looked over at Solus who permitted himself a small smile and nodded again to the troll. Then we left.



Once we were back outside I sucked in fresh air. It was a relief to be away from the shop, even if the air was sodden with city smells instead of the country atmosphere I was used to.



I waited until we were back onto the main thoroughfare before I spoke. “Solus, you didn’t pay the troll.”



“Mmm,” he answered noncommittally.



“And he called you ‘my lord’.”



“Mmm.”



“Solus, is there something I should know?”



He paused for a moment and looked at me, then continued walking. “No, dragonlette, there isn’t.”



“I will pay you back when I get some money.”



He laughed sharply. “At the rate you’re going, if you live long enough to make even a fraction of the money those knives cost, then I’ll be impressed.”



“I do appreciate your help, you know. You don’t have to be this nice.”



“I don’t want to be responsible for a sleeping pensioner for the rest of eternity, Mack. I’m a Fae, remember? This is entirely self-serving.”



I didn’t believe that anymore, not really, but I chose not to challenge him. “Thank you, Solus,” I said quietly.



He remained silent for a few heartbeats and then answered back gruffly. “You’re welcome, dragonlette. Just don’t do anything to get yourself killed before all this is resolved.”



I punched him in the arm and he drew back with a pained hiss. “What the fuck was that for?”



“My name is Mack.”



He snorted with laughter. “Yeah, okay.”



We walked for several minutes in a companionable silence. I’d never really spent any time in a big city like London before, at least not that I could remember anyway, and I was struck by how much more space and greenery there was than I thought there’d be. Yes, the air wasn’t as fresh as in Inverness or Cornwall, but considering the millions of people crammed into the area, neither was it as chokingly bad as I’d considered. It didn’t mean that I would be in a rush to move here, mind, but I could cope with it. There were people of every shape and every colour and, I had to admit, the diversity was refreshing. There were also more ‘people’ associated with the Otherworld than I’d expected. At one point, my attention taken by a colourful hoarding proclaiming that ‘There is no God so get on with your life and enjoy it’, I banged straight into a cloaked woman from whom I got such a buzz of power that I almost leapt right off the pavement. She growled at me in a language that I vaguely registered as some kind of Old French before heading back off in the opposite direction. Solus wisely managed to keep his tongue to himself but I could sense him trying very hard not to pass comment.



He finally stopped at the side of a road that was decorated with some very fancy graffiti. I was admiring the artwork, and wondering just how much skill was needed to produce such intricate designs, when he pointed out the cleverly hidden runes behind the various tags. I suddenly felt a bit queasy. Up until this point, at least since leaving the troll’s shop anyway, I’d allowed myself to be distracted by the sights and sounds of the big city. Now it was clear that my real business was about to begin.



“I can’t go any further, Mack.”



I appreciated that he’d bothered to use my real name. I nodded my head.



He pointed down the street ahead of us. “You need to walk about half a mile down that way. The Ministry will be on your left. It’s a big ugly grey building with a sign outside called Charters College.”