I nodded. “The Arch-Mage promises that you won’t be punished. He’ll find you a place as a gatekeeper.”
Thomas laughed bitterly. “Fat lot of good that will do. You know what it’ll be like, Mack, more than anyone. I’ll always be labelled as the crazy one who might fly off the handle at any moment. It doesn’t matter whether I’m here or somewhere else.” He sighed. “I thought I’d put all those troubles behind me, but I suppose I was wrong.”
I moved closer and leaned in to hug him tightly. Still clutched in one of my sweaty palms, the Palladium knocked against his back. He clung on to me for a moment, then released his grip. “You’ve been a true friend to me, Jeremy.” I looked him directly in the eyes, meaning every single word. “Stepping up the Dean like that, after what he did…” my voice trailed off. “I hope we can stay in touch?”
He smiled and chucked me under the chin. “Hey, I’m going to need all the friends I can get.”
I hugged him again, then pulled away, trying to convey silently to him how much he meant to me. Then I left him standing there, whilst I jogged back to Corrigan.
“Another conquest, kitten?”
“Stop fucking calling me that,” I hissed at him.
A muscle tightened his jaw and he took my arm, beginning to pull me towards the portal.
“Hey!” I protested. “I’m not a sack that you can just shove around.”
“As if I’d ever think that,” he muttered, his grip tightening.
“Mack! Wait up!”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, what now?” scowled Corrigan petulantly.
It was Brock. He ran over to me, a huge smile on his face. “It worked! Mack, it worked! You’re an absolute genius! We’re going out on Friday night, just me and her. You should have been there. Deborah was so grateful, and she gave me this great huge kiss right here.” He pointed to the side of his cheek, beaming from ear to ear. “Oh,” he sighed melodramatically, “I’ll never wash again.”
I grinned at him. “That might not endear you to Deborah.”
He laughed. “I can’t thank you enough. I…” He stopped in mid-sentence and a strange look came over his face. He coughed and gurgled.
Alarmed, I reached out to touch his arm. “Brock? Are you okay?”
A trickle of blood seeped from his mouth, then there was a loud of wheeze of triumph from behind him. He fell to his knees, eyes wide and staring. Brock hung there as if suspended for one silent moment where the world stopped and nothing moved, and then collapsed to the ground. There was a gaping hole through the back of his robes that were now soaked in blood. Behind him, swinging in the air, was Tryyl, Brock’s bloody heart clasped in his dark hand.
Chapter Twenty-four
The wraith dropped Brock’s heart as if it were nothing more than a piece of rubbish and fixed its terrible gaze on the Palladium in my hand.
“Give meeeeeeee it,” it hissed.
I was still staring at Brock’s fallen body, my brain trying to compute what had just happened. I was dimly aware of Corrigan shifting in an explosion of ripping fabric behind me, and his feline snarl as he launched himself into the air. Up ahead, by the steps where Thomas and the other two mages were, came the sounds of shouting as they all began running towards us.
Tryyl lunged towards me, in a motion that was so swift that I barely registered it. Corrigan’s werepanther form was already barrelling into the wraith, however, knocking him off his course as he sprang through the centre of his body so that he narrowly avoided connecting with me. All coherent thought left my mind. The only thing that was left was the bloodfire. The roar of it as it raged with fury and vengeance tore through my body. The flames seared my insides until there was not a scrap of my flesh that wasn’t burning. Without thinking, I threw the Palladium behind me as far as it possibly could go, then turned to face the wraith.
Green fire exploded from my hands with violence and intent. I launched twin jets out towards the shadowy form, both smacking immediately into his chest. The wraith roared in pain and anger, and sprang forward again. Corrigan hit him again from the side, lethal white teeth snapping as he struggled to find purchase in Tryyl’s insubstantial form. Then, from behind, both Thomas and the other two mages joined in the attack, each sending out their own waves of attacking blue flame.
A vicious spasm contorted the wraith’s body, and he let out an inhuman, bloodcurdling scream. Corrigan lunged out, claws flashing, scraping into his body. Tryyl spun round, slamming out a dark hand into the werepanther’s face. He snarled and slumped to the ground. Bloodfire pounded in my ears and throbbed in my heart. I shot out again with my flames, but this time the wraith leapt lithely to the side, avoiding being hit. Then he lashed out again, cuffing me against the side of my head and sending me flying painfully down to the ground. I lifted my head, tensing my muscles to spring back up and saw the wraith twist in the air to fly forward and meet Thomas and the others head on. They continued to send out streams of blue fire, but they were having little effect, virtually bouncing off Tryyl’s body and vanishing into the atmosphere. I leapt up, just as Tryyl roared again and flew towards them, knocking over all three.
I ran towards the small group, as fast as I humanly could, small stones pelting up into the air from around my feet. I continued to blast the wraith’s dark shape with green fire, Tryyl twisting this way and that each time I landed a shot. Thomas lifted his head and, for one brief moment, his gaze connected with mine and he smiled, then he reached up to grab Tryyl’s leg. The wraith screamed down at him in ire and kicked, his booted foot smashing against Thomas’ skull with a sickening crack. The mage fell back down, his neck skewed at an unnatural angle.
Hot tears filled my eyes as I continued to run. Tryyl turned yet again and faced me, an ugly bitter smile curving his shadow filled features.
“It’ssssssss miiiiiine,” he cried out, in a voice terrible enough to wake the dead.
I ignored his calls and bent my head down and jumped, headfirst, butting him in his stomach. His hand clawed out towards me, ripping the flesh at my neck and pulling away my skin. I fell backwards, heat exploding from every sinew in my body, ignoring the physical pain of the attack.
For a moment, the wraith looked puzzled, staring down at his hand. I realised through the wall of fire that he was clutching my necklace in his hand, long dirty fingernails curling round it. Then he dropped it uncaringly and spat, a stream of black blood ejecting from his mouth. It landed on Thomas’ body, a thick dark gloop of blood and spittle. My bloodfire screeched, thrumming through my skin. Heat and flames pulsated, opening up my pores and blazing out. The mages on either side of Thomas moaned. Tryyl reached down, grabbing each of them by their hair, one in each terrible hand, and slammed their heads down onto the gravel.
Fire.
Heat.
Blood.
A strange sensation filled me. My limbs cracked and my flesh twisted. I roared. Not in pain, but in vengeance. I could feel myself growing, enlarging and breaking out of the very skin that I was in. My teeth felt strange in my mouth, longer and sharper, as if they didn’t belong. My bones stretched and snapped and what I felt was no longer just fire and flame, but power too. I roared again, and this time the sound was deafening. There was an unfamiliar weight at my back. I twitched, realising that I had control of it, then whipped it round. My tail caught Tryyl’s midsection, tearing through him and leaving a sucking hole in amongst blackness.
I twisted my neck to the side, now towering over the shadow in front of me. I examined the tiny creature of vile death and pain with detachment. Then I opened up my jaws and snapped, ripping Tryyl’s head from his shoulders and tossing it to the side. Opening my mouth one final time, I let my scream of bloody thunder escape in triumph. And then I collapsed.
It was the voices around me in hushed argumentative tones that I first registered when I came to. The metallic sterile tang in the atmosphere advertised the fact that I was no longer outside, but instead back inside, within the academy’s infirmary. Probably on the same bed that Thomas had lain in until Tryyl had snapped his neck.
“She’s not a mage. That’s obvious now. But her powers indicate that the Ministry is the best place for her.”
I kept my eyes shut. Maybe if I never opened them again, then I wouldn’t have to face the reality of what had just happened. Was Thomas maybe still alive?
“For fuck’s sake! She transformed into a bloody dragon! She shifted. To all intents and purposes, she’s a shifter and she belongs with the pack.” Hello Corrigan. I guess you didn’t die as well then.
“Oh, really? And since when has the pack ever in the last thousand years, had a member who shifts into a dragon? She is not a shapeshifter. She is not a were-dragon, there’s no such thing!” I figured that the Arch-Mage wasn’t feeling quite so cosied up any more with the Lord Alpha. Oh well.
“Don’t you think that the people who are best placed to help her with this emotionally as well as physically are those who also have alternate forms?”
“And don’t you think that someone who has taken an oath to the mages, and who is able to eject fire from her hands is best served by learning and growing with those who can teach her?”
The voices were getting annoying. I wished they’d go away and leave me alone. Or at least give me some fucking information about Jeremy.
“Gentlemen, clearly Miss Smith here has kept her identity a secret for a reason. She is afraid of what might happen were others to discover her true nature. It would be best for everyone if she was kept safely away from any dangers. We can do this. In fact, she clearly trusts us because we are already doing that for a very dear friend of hers.”
Huh. That voice was new. It had an odd musical tone to it that sent annoyed flutters of irritation through me. Clearly Solus had done what he’d said he was going to do and spoken to the Summer Queen after all.
“But who exactly knows what she is? We should track them down and make damn sure that they do nothing to harm a single hair on her head.”
