Bloodfire (Blood Destiny) (16 page)

“I see,” Corrigan said again.
 
“So why does your
boy
friend,” he emphasised the ‘boy’ part, “call you Red?”

Crapola.
 
He’d heard that.
 
I silently cursed Tom for his
nickname.
 
If I told Corrigan the
truth, that
I’d dyed my hair, he might suspect that there
was more I was trying to hide.
 
Think, Mack.
 
“It’s my
favourite colour.
 
I always wear
it.”

Corrigan’s eyes slowly travelled down my
seated body.
 
I was wearing dark
jeans and a black t-shirt.

“But, of course, I’m wearing dark colours
now in mourning for John.”

He tapped his fingers lightly on the worn
desk.
 
“Of course.
 
You do seem to take this mourning aspect
very seriously.”

“I take his death very seriously.”
 
At least that part wasn’t a lie.

There was a flicker of sympathy in his
eyes.
 
That annoyed me.
 
I didn’t need to know that the Lord
Alpha had a nice side to him, no matter what the girl had said outside.
 

He changed tack.
 
“You smell like a rat, or maybe a
gerbil.
 
I can’t quite pinpoint it.”

“I’m a hamster.”
 
Which was probably about as believable
as the reason I’d offered up for Tom’s stupid nickname.
 
Shifters’ personalities and abilities
mimic their animal form.
 
I could
think of little that I’d manage to achieve so far that broadcasted a small
furry compliant rodent.

He looked at me quietly for a moment or
two but his expression gave nothing away.
 
“Interesting.
 
Werehamsters
rarely have much fighting prowess.
 
You, Miss Mackenzie, must be an anomaly.”

I shrugged, trying to appear casual.
 
He stared at me for another long moment
before again tapping his fingers on the desk and saying, “Very well then. You
are free to go.”

Well, thank you very much, my lord.
 
That hadn’t been so bad, I thought, and
stood up relieved, turning towards the door.
 
I straightened my t-shirt and felt the
tension leave my body.
 
He wasn’t so
scary after all.
 
My hand was
turning the doorknob, however, when he cleared his throat and spoke again.

“Oh wait. One more thing, Miss
Mackenzie.”
 
Great. “I’m curious as
to what you bathe with.”

Say what?
 
I didn’t turn around but my body
stiffened.
 
“I’m not quite sure what
you mean, my lord.”

“I mean, sweetheart, that you smell very
odd.
 
If you are a werehamster as
you claim, then you’re like none I’ve come across before.
 
I can’t quite put my finger on it but
it’s definitely an unusual scent that you carry around with you.”

I wasn’t sure if it was my fear that he
was skirting towards the truth or the sweetheart comment that did it, but I
whipped around without thinking, all cylinders firing.
 
“I fail to see what difference what I
wash with or how I bathe has to do with you.” I snarled.
 
“I’ve answered your sodding questions
and played along.
 
If you have
nothing of any note to ask about then let me go.”

So
the kitten roars after all.

I opened my mouth to speak again then
thought better of it and settled for glaring at him instead.

“Never mind,” he answered airily.
 
“I didn’t realise it was such a touchy
subject.
 
Clearly there are depths
to you that I need to plumb further.
 
Some other time, I think, Miss Mackenzie.”

I glared at him again and left.
 
Goddamnit, I’d walked right into that
one.

Outside, the blonde shifter was putting
another mark on her clipboard.
 
She
beamed at me.
 
“See, that wasn’t so
bad, now was it?”

Fuck off, Brethren girl.
 
I forced a smile.
 
By the time they all left, my cheeks
were going to be aching.
 
“It was
great.
 
He is indeed an impressive
man.”
 

“Isn’t he, though.
”
She sighed slightly and smoothed her hair self-consciously.
 
“And he’s single.”

So sodding what?
 
“Maybe you should ask him out on a date then.”

She giggled slightly.
 
I was somewhat surprised that the
apparently stoic and somber Brethren members were capable of giggling. “Oh no,
I could never do that.
 
Lord
Corrigan likes to do the chasing himself.”

Screw Lord Corrigan.
 
Which was actually probably what she
wanted.
 
I tried to smile at her
again.
 
“I have to go now.”

“Okay then,” she answered dreamily, no
doubt imagining herself and Corrigan walking hand in hand
down
a deserted beach.
 
I almost snarled
again.

Julia was hovering around in the hall,
looking over at me anxiously, so I flashed her a brilliant smile of fake reassurance
before striding up to the dorms to change the dressing on my wound and get my
backpack.
 
Forget about Corrigan, I
had clues to investigate and places to go and it was too late to change the
fact that I’d stupidly snapped at him.
 

Once outside, I took a deep breath and
filled my lungs.
 
I figured I had a
couple of hours before the rest of the interviews would be over.
 
Plenty of time to see
what I could find about tree markings and to look for black diamond stones.
 
I’d bound my side and my ribs tightly
with bandages and taken a few more painkillers so I was pretty sure that I’d be
able to conduct my investigations without the pain getting to me.
 
I briefly considered finding Tom and
asking him to come with me – and quizzing to find out how his interview
had gone - but I didn’t want to lose any valuable time and I was pretty certain
that he wouldn’t take kindly to me patently hoping he screwed it up, so I
shifted the backpack on my shoulder instead and walked out towards the beach
and the scene of John’s death.

Despite my own ministrations, I didn’t
want to risk delaying the healing process by opening the gashes up on my side
further, so I refrained from jogging and instead walked casually away from the
keep.
 
At least if anyone spotted me
I could use the excuse that I was just out for a casual afternoon stroll to
clear my head.

The path was lightened by sunbeams, in
stark and bitter contrast to when I’d taken this route last time.
 
A few birds chirped here and there.
 
I noted my own tracks from the previous
night, as well as a few others that were heavier and no doubt belonged to the
Brethren.
 
And John had said that
I
was like an elephant…I guess that’s
what living in the
cement covered
city did to your
ability to tread lightly and leave little trace behind of your presence.
 

Scuffing over some of the more irritating
trail marks as I went, I mulled over my interview with Corrigan, eventually deciding
that he was just trying to get under my skin.
 
If he’d really smelled anything human
about me then he’d have squashed me like a bug without thinking twice about
it.
 
He had definitely just been
fishing around.
 
He probably tried
to get a rise out of everyone he interviewed.
 
I ignored the memory of the almost
worshipful expression Johannes had had on his face after his interview.
 
Anyway, Corrigan didn’t matter – finding
John’s murderer did.

When I started to get closer to where John
had died, I stopped focusing on the ground and started checking out the trees
instead.
 
I couldn’t see anything
yet that suggested the markings that Corrigan and Staines had been talking
about it.
 
I felt tendrils of dread
curl around the pit of my stomach with each step that I took.
 
I really didn’t want to go there
again.
 
I wondered how much the pack
had managed to clean up.
 
Would
there still be traces of his
life blood
there?
 
Where it had seeped into the earth,
taking the only real parent I’d ever known?
 
I clenched my fists, nails curling into
the palms of my hands.
 
I couldn’t
let my grief escape back out.
 
I
needed to be strong and steely if I was going to avenge his death.

I still couldn’t see anything on any of
the trees.
 
I circled a few of them,
double checking
, but there was nothing.
 
What was I missing?
 
By the time I reached the sandy spot
where John had actually died, I felt myself flooded with frustration.
 
Somehow the Brethren were seeing
something I couldn’t.
 
I walked
slowly up to the spot where his body had lain.
 
There were a few indentations on the
grass and in the sand but the blood was gone.
 
I knelt down for a second and softly touched
the ground.

“I miss you, John,” I whispered
softly.
 
My words were whipped away
by the wind.
 
I blinked back a few tears
and stood back up to look at the tree line behind me.
 
That was when I noticed that the trees
did indeed have markings on them.
 
In a semi circle, facing the spot where he’d died, were one, two, three…
.seven
trees together that had what looked like runes
scoured into their bark.
 
I felt
some grim satisfaction at finding what I’d been looking for and strode over to
the first one.

It was gouged deep into the flesh of the
tree.
 
Lifting my hand, I traced the
outline of the rune, trying to work out what it was.
 
These weren’t Fae runes: there was
something sharper and much more sinister about them than the rune that I’d
discovered on John’s paperweight.
 
I
pulled out my smartphone and snapped a photo of it.
 
I still hadn’t made it to the library or
to check the Othernet to dig up information on wichtleins.
 
Now I had another reason to make sure
that I did.
 
I went round each tree,
taking a photo of each rune as I went.
 
That there were seven runes on seven trees definitely meant
something.
 
Seven was a magical
number that contained a lot of power within it.

I moved to the beach so I could stand on
the dune and get a picture of all of them together.
 
It was a struggle getting the top of the
sand with my injuries but I tensed my muscles and held my side and made
it.
 
I was about to take a photo
again when something half-buried by the sand caught my eye.
 
I crouched down and brushed away the
sand.
 
It was a ring of seven
charred coals.
 
All of a sudden
several pieces started to click together and I hit the back of my hand against
my forehead in exasperation.
 
Of course.
 
I
cursed myself for being an idiot.
 
Black
diamond stones could easily refer to coal, and Nick had mentioned that someone
had stolen a bag of coals from Perkins.
 
And an electric screwdriver.
 
I wondered for a minute whether
the tree runes could have been made by a tool
like that
before realising that was ridiculous.
 

But at least now I knew where I had to go
to next.

Chapter Nine

At this time of day, I knew I could expect
to find Nick at the police station, probably filling out paperwork from that
day’s dealings with the crime underworld of Trevathorn.
 
However, it was past five and I also knew
that Perkins would be closing soon.
 
I debated whether to visit the hardware store, or Nick, first.
 
Remembering the glint in Nick’s eyes
when I saw him last, I decided that I would try the store first.
 
Then I might be able to avoid talking to
him altogether.

The village was busy at this time of day,
with both locals and tourists bustling around.
 
Most of them gave me a wide berth when
they saw me striding towards them though.
 
I guess my expression contained enough thunderous determination that
they figured it was better to just get out of my way.
 
It suited me fine.
 
Tourists were irksome at the best of
times, and I was not exactly in the mood for small talk with any of
Trevathorn’s inhabitants.
 
My
bloodfire was glowing in the pit of my stomach as I was forced to consider the
idea that John had been deliberately targeted.
 
Perhaps the wichtlein pebble wasn’t so
much a harbinger as a marker beacon, pointing him out to whichever big bad
nasty had decided to chomp on him as a snack.
 
The heat curled savagely around my lower
intestines, threatening to take over at a moment’s notice.
 
I ignored it.
 
This was a time to focus, as John would
have said.