Bloodrage (Blood Destiny #3)

Bloodrage (Blood Destiny #3) Page 3

He winked at me and made for the door. “Sweet dreams.”

Tosser.

Chapter Two

I woke early, well before my 5am pick up time. It was probably something to do with having the lumpiest, most uncomfortable mattress this side of the Equator, but at least it gave me enough time to sort myself out – although it didn’t help that I’d had several disturbing dreams involving a lithe black panther stalking me through the empty cobbled streets of London. I did not have a crush on Corrigan, I told myself firmly. That had been a mere blip caused by feeling a bit lonely and needing someone to reach out to. Shaking off the vestiges of the dream, I pulled myself off the bed and splashed my face with water to wake up and get a grip of myself.

It took me several moments to find my way into the blue robe that I’d been given to wear. There was some kind of strange complicated twist of fabric involved that had me cursing aloud. When I finally managed to fit myself into it properly, I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. I lifted a strand of hair and gazed at it mournfully in the pre-dawn darkness. Maybe I’d take the necklace off first instead.

I reached round the back of my neck, searching for the clasp to undo it. My fingers couldn’t seem to find it, however. I felt all the way along the length of the chain, but whatever mechanism had originally been in place now appeared to have disappeared. Okaydokay. Feeling rather weirded out, I yanked at the chain instead, trying to snap it. Nothing happened. I pulled harder but the thing remained stubbornly round my neck. It occurred to me that maybe I could squeeze it over my head and try to wiggle myself out of it, but when I started to pull it upwards, rather than outwards, it seemed to tighten itself infinitesimally, and I couldn’t even scrape it past my chin. I was vaguely reminded for a moment of Frodo’s one ring and wondered idly whether the mages would free Mrs Alcoon if I threw myself into the fires of Mount Doom. It probably wasn’t an option. I shrugged to myself. If they wanted the necklace off that badly then they’d have to help me with it. After all, I figured, it was a bloody mage who’d put it on me in the first place so it would just have to be another bloody mage to take it off.

Of course it did mean that I was already putting myself in the position of incurring even more wrath from the Dean. I really needed a good report card if I was going to progress here and get out. Damn it. I reached over and picked up the scissors that Mage Thomas had left the night before. My fingertips began to tingle with a drumming heat that snaked its way up my arms, pulsing through my entire body. My bloodfire was clearly mirroring my unhappiness. I walked over to the sink with a heavy heart and poised the blades over a hank of hair. Screwing my face up tight I began to cut, using the scissors to take off most of the length, then I grabbed the electric razor and switched it on. Its buzz reverberated through me and I almost threw the fucking thing against the wall to smash it to pieces, then swallowed down my angst and vanity and began to run it over my scalp, inch by inch.

It was difficult to know whether I’d managed to get all the hair off without a mirror to look into. I ran my hands over my head and was pretty sure there weren’t any odd tufts left. On the floor around me were all the forlorn remnants of the red hair that I was so proud of. It didn’t feel like that long since I’d managed to get the dye out that I’d used to stay nondescript in Cornwall. And now I was completely bald. It would probably take months, even years, for it to grow back to a reasonable length.

I paused for a moment. Mary had short hair, but I was sure that I’d seen lots of students the day before with longer hair. I tried to remember what colour robes they were wearing, but before I could progress any further with my thoughts there was a knock at the door.

I stepped over and opened it. Mage Thomas was there, waiting. When he caught sight of my newly shorn head, his eyes widened and something flashed through them for a quick moment before disappearing.

“Like what you see?” I grunted.

He pursed his lips and didn’t reply, just waved at me to follow him.

I sighed and followed him yet again. This seemed to be becoming my life, trailing around after good old Mage Thomas and his winning ways.

I’d been expecting the oath taking ceremony to be held in some grand ballroom type arena, but surprisingly the mage led me outside towards the back of the school and down through a garden. The morning air was crisp and cold, and I was starting to shiver. You’d think that the mages would come up with some kind of garment for winter that would be more insulating. But, then again, perhaps I was so cold because I no longer had any hair of my own to cover my head. Certainly, my ears were starting go numb around the edges and the slight breeze blowing around my naked skull felt extraordinarily peculiar.

When we finally came to a halt, I realised that there was a small gathering of people awaiting our arrival. A stone statue of some be-robed man stood majestically over everyone, watching with sightless eyes. In front of the statue was a small altar and the Dean, holding a large worn-looking book in his hands. There was an element of surprise in his eyes as he looked at me, making me wonder if he’d thought that I would turn tail and run after our little chat the day before. He wasn’t going to get rid of me that easily. Still, he beckoned me over to stand beside him.

“We meet here, next to our founding father, to welcome a new initiate into our midst,” he intoned.

I wasn’t convinced that ‘welcome’ was quite the right word for him to use, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.

“Initiate Smith, place your hand onto the book, and then repeat after me.”

I began to rest my palm onto the tome that he was holding and then immediately snatched it away. It felt as if I’d received an electric shock. The Dean’s eyes narrowed at me, so I tried again, this time trying to ignore the painful buzz the book was giving off. I hoped that this was normal and wasn’t something to do with the fact that I wasn’t really a mage and shouldn’t really be here.

“I, Mackenzie Smith,” he began.

“I, Mackenzie Smith,” I dutifully repeated.

“Do swear to uphold the rules and traditions of the Ministry of Mages.”

“Do swear to uphold the rules and traditions of the Ministry of Mages.”

“I shall not abuse my power but shall instead seek to fulfill the precepts of the mage covenant of altruism, benevolence and compassion.”

I almost choked at those words – where was the altruism, benevolence or compassion as far as Mrs Alcoon was concerned? However, I managed to get them out of my mouth without drawing too much attention to myself. The Dean continued on, laying out a range of rules and concepts that I was now bound to follow. The majority seemed to involve making sure that I followed orders. I sighed inwardly. I probably wasn’t going to be particularly good at that part.

The sky was lightening with just the merest tinge of red in the east, when he finally finished and lowered his head. “Congratulations, Initiate Mackenzie.”

“Thank you,” I replied automatically.

His lips curled almost imperceptibly for a moment, and then he brushed past me, heading back towards the school building. His entire entourage followed.

Mage Thomas stayed behind and raised his eyebrows at me. “Well, well, well.”

“What?” I snapped. I think up until this point I’d been hoping that someone would jump out from behind a bush and tell me that they’d made mistake and they’d let me off. Now that I’d taken the oath, there was no turning back.

“I believe it’s time for breakfast. I will show you to the dining room, and then you should prepare for your first lessons.”

My soul lightened immediately. At least if I could get some coffee down me then I’d start to feel a bit more human. Human probably wasn’t the right word, but I didn’t dwell too long on that part, instead I just followed (again) quickly at the mage’s heels.

The dining hall was already busy when we arrived. Mage Thomas dumped me as soon as he could, without making any apologies or further explanations, so I headed straight for a large welcoming looking urn and poured myself a beautifully thick and gloopy mug of caffeine, then picked up a muffin and sat down.

I was just savouring the bitter coffee when someone shouted in my ear.

“Oh my fucking founder! What the hell have you done to your hair?”

It was Mary.

“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.

“You’ve shaved it all off! Jeez! Is it, like, some kind of protest? I mean, I know you didn’t really want to be here that much but it was so beautiful!”

Several unpleasant slots clicked into place. “So I don’t have to be bald to be an initiate, then?”

“What? No! Who the…?” Her voice trailed off suddenly, and her gaze fell on that bastard Thomas who was at the other side of the room in deep conversation with someone else. “Oh.”

I carefully put the coffee down on the table in front of me. The flames inside were roaring, licking their way up through my intestines and seeping out through my skin. My vision was darkening, but I was still dimly aware of flickers of green flame sparking at my fingertips. I stood up, pushing the chair back.

“Uh, Mackenzie…” started Mary.

“It’s Mack,” I said calmly.

“Mack, I don’t think this is a very good idea.”

I ignored her. Several heads were starting to turn in my direction and the buzz of conversation was hushing. I ignored that also. I began to walk over to the mage with single-minded determination. When I was about halfway across the room, he realised what was going on. He turned and faced me, whilst his companion backed away. I shot out a stream of green fire towards him, which he blocked with one hand. It didn’t matter. I just kept on walking.

“You’ve just taken an oath, Initiate Mackenzie,” the prick called out, “it would be wise to re-consider your actions.”

Only because he knew I was about to beat him. There had been nothing in the oath about not taking revenge once provoked. I flicked out another jet of green flame. Again, he blocked it, this time answering back with his own blue fire. It hit me dead on in the chest, making me gasp, but I swallowed down the pain and focused instead on the fire inside me. He let out some more attacks, his face impassive. A couple of the shots slowed me down, but they weren’t really going to stop me.