Bloodrage (26 page)

Relieved, both Alex and I nodded vigorously.  Yes, thank the gods, please do. 

He fixed a stern look upon the
pair of us.  “But don’t ever attempt to do anything like this again.   I appreciate that your intentions were pure, however your actions could have caused irreparable damage.”

I opened my mouth to retort that we’d actually saved the fucking day, but Alex nudged me hard so I snapped it shut again.  The Arch-Mage turned on his heel and headed inside the front door of the Ministry head-quarters.  Alex put up his hand.  Not really my thing, I thought, but…I jumped up and high-fived him.  We grinned at each other.

“And that’s the end of that,” he said, happily.

“Amen.”

Chapter Nineteen

The next day the skies were grim and overcast, reflecting back a dull grey sheen across everything.  However, my own mood couldn’t be dampened by the weather and, in total contrast to the weak washed out colours of the world, I felt sunny and chirpy.  Alex’s Palladium problem had been solved, Solus was on his way to doing my work on translating the Fae Fire book for me and I now had nothing to concentrate on or worry about apart from actually starting to learn some proper magic stuff and then getting the hell out of the academy.

I was overwhelmingly tempted to see if I could indeed find the spell book that would enable me to provide Mrs. Alcoon with her freedom a whole five years before it was theoretically due, however my current misgivings about the end result that such a project might entail meant that I was prepared to stick to my word and
, at the very least, give the actual studying part a shot.  Maybe I’d even work out how to reverse the spell on my own.  It was amazing what one good night’s sleep could do to provide clarity, I thought, while wandering out to the back of the academy gardens for my postponed teaching session. Similarly, I’d managed to compartmentalise the annoying niggles about Corrigan and put them away deep inside me, including his knee-weakening kiss, at least for now.  In fact, I was starting to wonder whether coming to the academy might be the best thing that had ever happened to me.

Even Mary seemed to notice the difference, as she commented when she caught up with me.  “You’re just less prickly, Baldilocks.  I don’t feel like you’re going to spontaneously bite the head off the nearest person any more.”

Of course, she put it down to her genius action of bestowing me with a nickname.  Deborah, who appeared a few minutes later, seemed to think that it was more to do with the contented feeling of ‘lurve’, as she described it.  However, even her insinuations that I was an all round calmer person thanks to the attentions of Corrigan rather than anything I had achieved myself, didn’t put a dent in my relaxed state.  The events of the night before seemed a lifetime away and, by the time that Brock and Aqmar bounded up, all eager to begin round two, I was beaming in satisfaction as Deborah and Mary hurled themselves at each other, trying to catch the other off balance.

Aqmar grinned his usual boyish hello, whilst Brock smiled shyly.  I set them off on the same exercise as the girls
, and then stood back and watched.  After a while, it became patently clear that the four of them were purely relying on luck, rather than skill or observation, to land their hits.  I interrupted them all and got them to sit down in a row on the damp grass and pay attention.  This had always been Tom’s failing too.

“You need to keep your body from betraying you
,” I said seriously.  “If your opponent pays enough attention, then they will know where you are going to hit next, and they’ll not only get out of your way but also have the opportunity to hit you back.”

“Aw, man.  Baldilocks, this just the same shit that we do in Protection already,” complained Aqmar.

I frowned down at the teenager.  “Well, maybe there’s actually a reason why you spend so much time on that sort of stuff.” I thought about Thomas and our t’ai chi chu’an lessons.  Maybe we had more in common than we realised.  “But if you get this right, then I promise I’ll also show you some attack moves,” I said relenting.

“Far out!”  They all look pleased.

Momentarily amused at the impatience of youth, I began.  “You tell me,” I said, positioning myself into a typical fight stance.  “Where am I going to go next?”

“Right,” said Mary confidently.

“How do you know?” I inquired.

“Uh,” she dissembled.  “I don’t, I’m just guessing.”

“Is it left?” asked Deborah.

I relaxed my body for a moment and gazed at them all in exasperation.  “You can’t just guess.  You have to know. If you don’t know, then don’t say anything.”

I returned to my initial attack position and asked again.  “So, which way?”

They stared
at me, blank expressions on their faces.  Then Brock put up a tentative hand into the air.

“We’re not in school, Brock.  You don’t need to do that.”

Slightly flustered he lowered his arm again and coughed.  “Backwards.  You’re going to go backwards.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Your centre of gravity,” he said, pointing at the lower part of my stomach.  “It looks kind of, I dunno, off.”

“Well, let’s see then, shall we?”  And with a sudden spring, I flipped backwards, twisting in the air until I landed on my feet in exactly the same position, only now two meters back.

The others broke out into spontaneous applause.  I grinned at Brock.  “Well done.  Now you try it.”

The teenager stood up and took my spot in front of the others.  He relaxed his body completely, in a way that I recognised from the philosophy of t’ai chi.  However, a tiny muscle throbbed in his right cheek, giving him away.  It was a minor tell
, and one that not many would notice. 

The others still weren’t sure, but I let them
try first anyway.  When I told him he was going to leap to the left, he appeared particularly deflated.

“It’s a tiny thing, Brock.  Your cheek twi
tches on the right hand side so I know you’re going to head to the left.  You just need to practice your facial expressions in the mirror as much as your body language and then you’re there.  Not even Thomas will be able to work out which way you’re going then.”

Unfortunately it was completely the wrong thing to say.  Brock brightened momentarily at my words, but then so did Deborah when I mentioned Thomas, making Brock sink down back into himself.  I cursed my big mouth. 

The session continued on for another hour and, as promised, I showed them how to do a few kicks and spins that really looked more impressive than they actually were, but that pleased the four of them no end.  When we wrapped up, and started to head back for dinner, I pulled Brock aside, then let the others go off ahead.

‘What is it?” He asked anxiously.  “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, goodness, nothing wrong,” I reassured him.  “But you’ve got to sort this thing out with Deborah.”

His gaze flickered down to the ground and he looked downright miserable.   “She’s not interested in me, Mack.  She’s only got eyes for Mage Thomas.”  He spat out Thomas’ name as if it was a curse.

“But she doesn’t know that you like her in that way,” I said gently.  “If you tell her, then she might see you in a new light.”

“Or she might never talk to me again.”

“Well then, she’s the idiot, not you.  You can’t regret not doing something, Brock.  You should only regret the stuff that you do actually do.  At least then you’re in control.  Believe me, you’ll feel better about yourself.”

He sighed.  “But
what would I do?  What would I say?”

“Well, what is she interested in?”

“Mage Thomas,” he said huffily.  When I gave him a stern look, he relented.  “Fashion, make-up, that kind of thing, I guess.  Which makes her sound like a bimbo, but she’s not, Mack, she’s really not.  She’s sweet and funny, and always thinks of others.  She’d never hurt anyone, not intentionally.  And she’s really clever.  When she’s thinking really hard, her nose wrinkles and when she’s happy, really happy, she lifts up just one corner of her mouth in a kind of half smile.”

I reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
  Yeah, he had it bad.  “So is there anything at all you could do to get her attention?”

“I don’t know. I thought about getting her some flowers or something once.  She’s got hayfever though.”

“You don’t have to buy her something.  Usually it’s not what you buy a girl that she’ll like about you, it’s what you do instead.  Something really thoughtful that’ll make her see you for what you are.”

“You’re right.  But it’s coming up with that thoughtful thing that’s the difficult part.”
  He ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

We walked back.  My efforts at matchmaking were about as successful as my own love life currently was, I thought ruefully.  Cupid certainly didn’t have anything to be afraid of from me. 

*

Throughout the rest of the week, everything continued on as if Saturday night hadn’t ever taken place.  I felt like I’d somehow been dropped into a world of safe mundanity.  Other than the fact that I was at an academy of magic of course, that is.

My Kinesis lesson went as usual.  I entered the room, sat myself down on the edge of Slocombe’s little chalk circle and watched the same pebble again for hours whilst the mage stood as far away from me as he could possibly get without hiking up his black robes, and running away.  I was aware of him flicking nervy glances towards me, perhaps in case I got upset and decide
d to pick up the little stone and fling it at him, but I resolutely remained in place, trying to focus.  I’d done a little reading in a spare hour I’d had to kill at the library about how to begin with Kinesis and be successful.  It didn’t help.  No matter what I did or how I concentrated, the rock stayed determinedly in the same spot.

Evocation was much the same, although I hung back at the end feeling confident enough to brave a touchy subject with the teacher without losing my cool.

“So,” I started, as he was gathering up his things.

The mage shot me a terrified look.  “Yes?”

“Do you know Mary? She’s a Level Four Initiate.”

He nodded and made to leave.  However I took a leaf out of the Dean’s book himself and blocked the doorway.  “She told me a couple of weeks ago that she was summoning a dryad.”

The mage smiled proudly, despite his obvious unease that I was trying to engage him in conversation.  “Yes, she’s very talented.”  He eyed me up and down.  “I don’t think you’re ready for that level of summoning just yet.

I almost snorted, but managed to somehow keep it inside, choking slightly instead.  I couldn’t summon a flea, I was hardly going to be able to manage it with something life-size.  Besides, that wasn’t what I was after.  “From what I know of dryads,” I said cautiously, “they don’t like it very much when they are far away from their own habitats.  You know, their trees.  In fact they find it quite painful to be away from them.
  Or so I’ve heard anyway.” 

From the horse’s mouth, in fact.  I’d had a long conversation with one that I’d come across in the woods in Cornwall on that very subject.  She’d been very skittish and at first unwilling to talk, but I’d been equally determined to find out more about her and her people.  It had become a bit of a personal challenge after John had given me an incredibly embarrassing dressing down in front of the entire pack when I’d been about thirteen and had mistakenly chosen a dryad’s tree to use for target practice.  With enough persistence she’d given in and we’d ended up becoming friends of sorts.  Well, no, that was a lie actually.  She stopped running away screaming every time I approached her is what I really meant.

The mage blinked at me owlishly.  “They’re only summoned for a very short period, Initiate Smith.  They’re not in any distress.”

Actually I was pretty sure they probably were.  When I said this to him, he muttered some comment about the ‘hippy arguments of tree-hugging humans’ and pushed past me.  I let him go, although I wasn’t ready to drop the matter just yet.  I figured that I could speak to him about
it again the following week.  And the week after.  And the week after that.  After all, that was how I’d gotten to know what dryads thought in the first place, so it was bound to work sooner later on a mage.  Even if he displayed the same kind of nervous gazelle like tendencies as the dryad had.  Sooner or later I’d break him down and get him on side.

Perhaps the most shocking event of the week
however, was my Illusion lesson.  I’d set off from the cafeteria after lunch, allowing for just enough time to get there.  And then somehow, despite being sure that I could confidently find my entire way round the whole campus, I got lost.  Again.  It felt like I kept somehow missing the building.  I’d walk past Divination and Evocation, and the groundskeepers’ little shed.  There was the gap in the wall, which the wind blew through and could virtually yank you off your feet if you weren’t paying attention.  And then I’d end up at the end of the buildings beside Protection, without ever seeing the Illusion block at all. 

Knowing what was happening, that the mage who was my teacher was just playing with me or testing me or something again, didn’t particularly help matters.  It was a particularly drizzly and cold day, and the raindrops kept landing on the back of
my neck and dripping down uncomfortably against the skin of my back, whilst the tips of my fingers were starting to go ever so slightly numb.  The idea of her sitting comfortably in the warm classroom sent shivers of irritated bloodfire heat through me.  But, remembering my training, I counted to ten as slowly as I could, and pushed the flames back down again.  Then, when I turned around to head back for another circle to see if I could find the door, I saw it.  It was just a glimmer, an odd little hint along the edge of the cobbles that something wasn’t quite right and didn’t quite fit.  I walked over and stood in front of it, then reached out with just my pinky and gently poked it.  All at once, the glimmer enlarged in front of my eyes, bulging and elongating like those old magic mirrors you used to find at funfairs.  After blinking a few times, I even found the door and managed to make my way upstairs without missing too much of the lesson time.