Bloodrage

Corrigan began laughing. I picked myself up and glared at him.

“Yeah, lap it up, fuzzball,” I hissed, annoyed with myself.

“Striking fear into the hearts of all who cross her, ladies and gentleman, I give you Mackenzie Smith,” he intoned dramatically.

“Fuck off.”

He shrugged. “Okay, then,” and began pulling open the door to his ‘look at me, I’m a rich bastard’ car, as if to clamber in and leave me stranded.

I scowled at him. “Very funny.”

Corrigan smirked. “Just remember that you’re the one who invited me out on a date. You might want to show a little more humility and gratitude.”

“This is not a date,” I stated firmly. “It’s merely an opportunity to smooth things over in order to avoid any future confrontations.” And to steal a thousand year old statue to prevent a civil war in the Ministry, and death and destruction everywhere else, but I wasn’t going to go into that at this particular moment in time.

He licked his lips predatorily, as if promising future ‘confrontations’ that I had no desire right now to think about. I swallowed, hard, then shakily tottered my way across the final few feet to him. Holding open the door, he gestured me inside with a flourish. I took one quick glance back at Alex, standing forlornly in front of the Ministry and then got inside.

Once we were both ensconced within the limo’s interior, it smoothly took off. It had the unmistakable smell of new car lingering about it. Despite myself, I was impressed.

“So things are going well in shifter-land, then?” I commented.

Corrigan didn’t answer, instead reaching over into a small cabinet and pulling out a bottle of champagne and two chilled glasses. What the hell, I figured, I needed something to calm my nerves. He poured me a glass, which I gulped down and drained, then set aside.

He blinked at me, a streak of gold flashing its way across his jade chipped eyes. “Thirsty?”

“A bit,” I sniffed. “Maybe I just need some Dutch courage to get through this evening.” Then it occurred to me that was probably a stupid thing to say, so I backtracked hastily. “Just because until very recently I thought that you were going to slaughter me and all my friends once you worked out that I wasn’t a shifter of course.”

“Yes,” he murmured. “We’ll need to talk about that one day.” He poured me another glass, but this time I ignored it. Taking the edge off was one thing, but getting drunk was most definitely not a good idea. “So, the mage. He’s the one from Cornwall, right? The one who sneaked you through the portal.”

And there we had it. I was just surprised that it had taken him this long. “He didn’t sneak me through the portal. I asked him to help me get through it and he obliged. Because he’s nice. And that’s what friends do for other friends.”

“Put them into life and death situations?” There was an edge to his voice.

“Help them in their time of need.”

“It may have been more helpful if he’d gone through with you. But you didn’t want that, did you? You were seeking glory and wanted the spotlight all to yourself.”

I felt the heat rise up inside me at his baiting. “Glory? I was trying to stop Iabartu from murdering anyone else.”

“We still haven’t really established why she was trying to murder anyone at all.” He leaned back against his seat, and eyed me.

Okay, I saw where this was going. He was still trying to glean from me what I really was, and he thought that he could manipulate me into getting annoyed and blurting it out. Not gonna happen. I concentrated on letting the bloodfire dampen back down, and then smiled calmly back. “Instead of annoying each other, why don’t we see if we can get along?”

Corrigan grinned, baring his teeth. I shivered.

“Okay then,” he purred. “You look nice in that dress. It was…thoughtful of you to dress up.”

I could play this game. “You look well turned out yourself.”

Mutual appreciation society now in full swing, I felt brave enough to pump him for a little information. “So,” I said casually, “where is it we are actually going?”

Corrigan laughed humourlessly. “You know exactly where we’re heading to.”

Oh, shit. I thought quickly, trying to remember what he’d said before, sure that he’d not mentioned himself where we were specifically going. Play dumb, Mack, play dumb. “Um, no. You just said that it was a gathering for the Otherworld leaders, that’s all.”

“And you just happened to be free to go out only this night. After almost biting my head off less than twenty four hours before.” His eyes narrowed. “Let’s quit the play-acting, kitten. For some reason, you are desperate to get into this party and you’re prepared to use me to do it.”

My stomach dropped. Was I really that obvious? Corrigan shrugged, but there was a lack of insouciance about it, and instead the appearance of barely controlled tension that was frightening. He leaned back towards me and whispered, “So don’t think that I am for one moment going to let you out of my sight to go off and do something stupidly reckless.”

I hesitated for too long, before squeaking, “I don’t have any ulterior motives, Corrigan. You’re just determined to think the worst of me.”

“Hmm, we’ll see about that, shall we?”

Insides churning, I stared at him, wide-eyed and nervous. Of course it had been too easy getting him to agree to bring me to this party. He was just toying with me, much in the same way a cat does with a mouse. Realising that I was that mouse pretty much terrified me.

Fortunately, before I could say anything else that would just dig my own grave deeper, the car pulled up to a stop. Corrigan got out, not waiting for the driver to open the door for him. I did the same. The street we were on was brightly lit with lamp-posts, but I still felt that I could imagine all manner of nasty things hiding in the shadows, ready to jump out and attack. The building itself looked exactly as it had in the old book I’d found in the mages’ library, although now that I was here in person it felt considerably more imposing. The bricked out windows in particular gave the whole place a sinister edge. Corrigan moved round to my side and held out his arm. I stared down at it for a moment, feeling pointlessly furious that he’d suggested he didn’t believe that I was here just for him. I wasn’t, of course, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t still be annoyed that he didn’t trust me. Forcing myself to remain calm, I placed my hand on his outstretched arm, noting the rock hard steel of the muscles beneath. Then we walked up to the entrance of the vampires’ lair.

The door to the house was lacquered black and so shiny that I could practically see my face reflected in it. I was half tempted to breathe onto it and write my name in the ensuing condensation, but I managed to resist. I was all too aware of Corrigan next to me, all spicy citrus hardness. His knowledge that I wasn’t here to chew the fat with him was going to cause considerable complications to my plan. I’d need to hope that once I was inside I could find some way of getting separated from him as somehow I didn’t think that he’d help me retrieve the Ancile. The weight of the Palladium itself felt heavy and cumbersome in my purse as I clutched it tightly in my free hand.

Without knocking, the gleaming door swung open as we approached. Inside I could see several guests already milling around in the hallway, the chat and buzz of your average run of the mill cocktail party reaching my ears. Just beyond the threshold of the door stood a youngish looking man. He wasn’t a vamp, his skin wasn’t pale enough and he didn’t possess the lingering smell of death that I’d registered before on my one and only previous encounter with a member of the undead. I’d just have to hope that he wasn’t a mage who’d been recruited in specially as security to sniff out anything untoward.

Corrigan stepped inside and turned, stretching out his arms so he could be frisked. He kept his eyes trained on me the entire time, a half-amused expression skittering across his face. While it seemed to me to be a pointless exercise – a shifter’s weapons were their claws and teeth that could be accessed virtually whenever they decided to transform – it didn’t stop my mouth from going dry. If they searched my bag and found the Palladium, or frisked me thoroughly enough to find the daggers, then I was done for. It probably wouldn’t reflect very well on Corrigan either.

Once he was done, he gave the Lord Alpha a brief respectful bow, and then motioned me forward. Alex and I had discussed this already. We’d considered having him place an Illusion spell on me, in order to escape any undue attention. However bloodsuckers were notoriously adept at sensing magic, and we figured it would no doubt simply send me flying back through the door. Instead we’d decided to focus on a few simple diversionary tactics. I smiled at the man, stepping inside, and praying that the times I’d practised this through already were going to be enough. I turned round, just as Corrigan had done. The man started patting me at the hem where my dress began, moving upwards with the perfunctory attitude of a professional. As soon as he reached my waist, I dropped the clutch, spilling its contents – or at least some of them on the floor. Alex had made sure that there was a second pocket built in to the purse, so it could be opened without the little statue being displayed. A tube of lipstick, comb, compact and tampon all rolled out very deliberately onto the smooth cream carpet.

“Oh my goodness,” I gasped, “I’m so sorry. How embarrassing.”

I made a move as if to kneel down to collect up my scattered belongings. Of course I couldn’t actually kneel down or I’d end up skewering myself on the concealed daggers that the doorman’s hands had been just about to reach. Fortunately, as we’d planned, or at least rather hoped when we planned, the man knelt down himself for me, scooping everything back up, then handing me the clutch. Chivalry, as it turned out, was still alive and kicking. I’d tried to tell Alex that it wouldn’t work, that any bouncer would notice the unnatural weight that would attest to the statue’s presence as soon as it was lifted. Alex told me that he’d be so embarrassed by the appearance of a tampon that he wouldn’t even begin to twig that anything was amiss. Score one to Alex: he was right. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">