Bloodfire (Blood Destiny) (14 page)

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.
 

I picked it up to look at it further.
 
It was made of Caithness glass and contained
a pretty pattern inside of purple and red swirls.
 
I was about to place it back down when I
realised that the under-side felt oddly rough.
 
Flipping it over, I saw that a small
rune had been etched into it somehow.
 
It looked Fae, but whilst I could speak a few basic words and sentences,
I definitely didn’t have the skill to decipher the rune itself.
 
Unless…my eyes
searched the bookshelf again.
 
There!
 
John had a dusty old
Fae- Human dictionary sitting at one end.
 
I pulled it off, struggling with its weight, and opened it.
 
The rune had three markings on the side
in the shape of three teardrops so I had a vague idea of which section to look
in.
 
Next to the teardrops was what
looked like a little stringless
harp.
 
That helped.
 
Faerie language was pictorial. Once you
had an idea about what the separate pictures were, you could start to find out
their meaning.
 
I counted the brush
strokes on the right hand side.
 
Five.
 
That meant that in the
teardrop section, I had to flip to the
five stroked
subheading and then find the harp.
 
I was too impatient and I almost tore through the pages to find the
right part.
 
I traced my finger down
the listed runes before seeing it.
 
Herensuge.
 
Huh.
 
That was Basque for dragon.

I leaned back towards the computer and
typed it in.
 
What the hell, it was
worth a shot.
 
To my delighted
surprise, as soon as I hit return, the monitor chimed in happy agreement.
 
I let out a long breath - I was in.

John’s computer desktop was sparse.
 
There were a few folders displayed so I clicked
on one entitled Statistical Sightings, figuring that it might give me an
indication about what otherworld creatures had been spotted recently in the
area.
 
It opened up to a
comprehensive table detailing the activities of various nasties going back to
2006.
 
The figures were fairly even:
in 2006 3 ogres, 17 trolls (I remembered there had been a particularly nasty
bridge infestation that year), one Unseelie Fae encounter and a few others.
 
In the next few years, there was little
difference.
 
However the last three
months told a different story.
 
It
appeared that there had been more sightings and problems since March than we’d
ever had before.
 

I pulled back slightly from my perch on
the desk and absentmindedly rubbed my side. Things had been quieter lately, not
busier.
 
I’d spent my time routing
out rabbits and foxes, not evil otherworld creatures bent on destruction.
 
The table even made mention of a
Quinotaur, a
five horned
beast, that had been
dispatched near the lake.
 
I pouted
slightly.
 
Meeting new big and bad
nasties made my day – why hadn’t I heard of anything about this one?
 
Or all the others?
 
I was convinced that if any other pack
members had come across this number of creatures then they’d have been moaning
in bitter complaint to everyone who came near.
 
And whoever killed the Quinotaur would
surely have boasted of their achievements to someone.
 
I wondered if John had been doing all
this himself, and sending the rest us off on wild goose chases instead.
 
It was a phenomenal achievement if he
had, but begged the question of why.
 
Perhaps it was linked to the wichtlein’s harbinger pebble.
 
If things were so bad though, he’d
surely have already informed the Brethren before now.
 
I felt really rather hurt that he might
have been killing himself to keep Cornwall safe and hadn’t asked me for help.

I moved the cursor to the menu and opened
up the list of recent documents.
 
There was one that he’d created just a scant few hours before his
death.
 
Looking at the time display,
it must have been after he’d returned from the clearing.
 
It didn’t have a title but I double
clicked the mouse to open it up anyway.
 
There were just three words: black diamond stones – followed by a
question mark.
 
I had a bit of a
question mark myself.
 
What were
black diamond stones?
 
I silently
cursed John for not leaving a
more clear
clue.

I scanned the bookshelves again, looking
for something that might help and was about to pull down a precious gems and
magical objects encyclopaedia when I suddenly heard voices and the slamming of
doors from outside.
 
Bugger it.
 
Quickly closing down the computer, I
stepped back into the outer office.
 
I was just in time because Staines came suddenly striding in with the
Lord Alpha.
 
They were in mid
conversation and didn’t see me at first.

“My lord, we need to focus on the magic
trail before anything else,” Staines was saying.

The Alpha growled.
 
“The mage can do that better than
us.
 
It’s the tree markings that
interest…” his voice trailed off as he saw me and his green eyes narrowed.

“Hi!” I said brightly.
 
“Found it!”
 
I held up my mug for display.

They both just stared at me silently.
 
I cleared my throat.
 
“Well, I’ll get out your way then.”
 
I moved towards the door but the Alpha
was blocking it.
 
I looked up at
him, waiting for him to move out my way.
 
He folded his arms and continued to stare.

I felt a flicker of irritation from my
bloodfire.
 
This was my keep, not
his.
 
I moved to brush past him,
registering the hard steely curve of his muscles as my arm touched his.
 
He moved further back, blocking the
doorway completely.

“Miss Mackenzie,” he drawled softly.

My flames flickered higher.
 
“Lord Alpha,” I bit out.

He smiled predatorily.
 
“You can call me Corrigan.
 
Why are you here?”

“Because this is
my
pack’s office and
my
coffee
mug and I want to have
my
coffee.”
 
My eyes flashed, even as
the small voice inside of me snapped at me to simper slightly and shut up, not
anatagonise the man further.

He gazed implacably back.
 
“I see.
 
And how is that not shifting working out
for you, Mackenzie?
 
Feeling shaky
yet?”

“Only from caffeine withdrawal,” I snapped
shaking the mug in the air as if to prove my point.

He stepped aside and gestured to the door
with a flourish.
 
“Then I will not
impede your way any longer.”

I humphed and stepped
through.
 
‘Impede’ my way?
 
Just let
him try.
 
For one horrifying second
I thought I’d spoken aloud because from behind me I heard him speak again, with
an iron tone to his voice.
 
“Don’t
be late for our interview because you’re guzzling the black stuff and jumping
around off the walls on a caffeine buzz.
 
I do not appreciate tardiness.”

Fuck off, I thought, and stalked off in
the direction of the kitchen.

So his name was Corrigan.
 
I scowled at myself and pushed the
thought away.
 
It was nothing to me
what his name was.
 
Arrogant
fucker.
 
I considered arriving late
for the interview just to spite him but reminded myself that I was trying to
portray meek and weak.
 
I had
clearly been massively unsuccessful so far.
 
Closing my eyes and counting to ten, I
tried to calm myself back down further.
 
I still had to do my best to pass under the Brethren’s scrutiny, even if
that would be difficult after my fight with Anton.
 
Letting my temper and the bloodfire get
the better of me would not help
me or the pack
.