Bloodlust

“Don’t you have other things to do? You’re getting bloody married in less than a month, Tom.”

“You do remember Betsy, right? Do you really think she’d let something as important as her wedding day be screwed up by my poor decision making?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Fair point. You’d probably do something shocking like order freesias instead of magnolias for the table settings.”

“Roses and baby’s-breath, actually.” He grinned ruefully, “I almost ended up having my eyeballs taken out by a fountain pen when I suggested that we should just get all the invitations typed out instead of personally writing them.”

“You’d better hope the sun is shining on the day, or she’ll postpone it for a year.”

“Oh, she’s already got about three contingency plans in place.” He smiled fondly to himself, then glanced up at me. “Now quit trying to change the subject and sort yourself out so we can get started.”

Shit. I swallowed. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Finish your coffee first, then we’ll begin.” He gave me an arch look. “I know what you’re like when you don’t get your caffeine fix.”

“I’ll just check the Othernet headlines and my email first.”

“No.”

Er, what? “Yes.”

“It’s not a good idea, Red. I spoke to the Lord Alpha this morning already anyway. You don’t need your email because he’s arranged the council meeting for four pm.”

“Oh, he has, has he?”

Tom shot me a warning look. “We didn’t know how long you were going to be asleep for. It seemed prudent not to wait.”

I subsided into a series of grumbles.

“Staines will be here after midday to talk to you,” he continued, “and there’s nothing on the Othernet that’s a surprise.”

“What does that mean?” My eyes narrowed.

“Just that. There’s gossip about last night and a few pictures, but nothing you need to worry about now.”

“Pictures?” My voice rose and I began to get out of my chair. “Bloody pictures? Of me?”

“Red,” Tom began patiently.

“Let me see them,” I growled.

“No.”

“You can’t tell me what to fucking do, Tom.”

He laughed shortly. “Red, I need you to be focused right now. Take some of that newfound sense of responsibility and turn it on. We don’t have a vast amount of time and there’s a lot to cover.” He gave me a hard look. “Focus the fire.”

I wiped the frustration off my face at his last words. John, the old alpha in Cornwall and the only real father ‘d ever known, had always used that phrase to get me to pay attention and knuckle down. He’d known more about me then than I’d known about myself. I’d never be sure whether he had ever planned to tell me the truth about my Draco Wyr side but, instead of feeling betrayed, all I felt now was fondness. He’d simultaneously protected me and encouraged me to protect myself. And clearly Tom knew exactly which of my buttons to press just like John had. Focus the fire indeed.

I picked up my coffee cup and drained it, then looked him in the eyes. “Well, let’s get this party started.”

*

Tom cleared away the coffee cups, dumping them in the sink, then turned to me. “Right, we’re going to do this in stages.”

I looked down at the old t-shirt I was wearing. “Let me go and get changed first.”

“No need,” he answered dismissively.

“Eh?”

“We’re going to stay here. It’s probably better if you’re wearing something loose anyway.”

“Stay here?” Was he mad? “Tom, this flat is kind of small. I don’t think it’s going to hold my dragon form.”

He tutted. “Didn’t you pay attention to anything in Cornwall?”

“If I wasn’t going to be able to shift myself, why would I have?” I huffed. “Anyway, I was off hunting with John when you lot were doing the furry thing.”

“The furry thing?” he raised his eyebrows.

I shrugged. “Hey, it’s better than scaly.”

“You don’t know what you look like when you transform, do you?”

“Finding a mirror hadn’t been first on my mind either time,” I commented. “Nothing’s really been on my mind, Tom, because the fucking dragon takes over.”

He smiled benignly. “We’ll sort that out.”

“I’m not technically a shifter, you know. It might not work like it does for you.”

“Let’s just see, shall we? Stop being obstructive and sit on this chair.”

I did as he instructed, huffing melodramatically. Tom completely ignored my sulky reaction.

“Now close your eyes,” he said patiently. “Create a picture of yourself in your head. It doesn’t need to be what you actually look like, just what you imagine yourself to look like.”

A vision filled my head of a scowling me, gripping two long silver daggers. Excellent.

“Now, you need to take that picture and turn it into something. A symbol. Something a bit more tangible.”

“It’s in my fucking head, Tom, how tangible is it going to be?”

He didn’t answer. I sighed and tried to think. Okay. I turned the image of angry Mack into a vast bonfire, adding in logs and licking flames of different hues for effect. For a bit of a flourish, I stuck a stuffed figure with a stovepipe hat on the top, in the manner of a Guy Fawkes’ pyre. Deciding that some fireworks would be pretty, I allowed a Catherine Wheel to set off behind the flames, and included some blue and green exploding showers overhead.

“The more simple you can keep it, the better,” Tom added.

My elaborate vision vanished in a puff of smoke. Oh, well. I replaced it with a single burning matchstick.

“Okay, done.”

“Good. Now, smells are particularly evocative so you need to develop some kind of aroma to attach to your symbol. It’ll make it more useful to call up when you need it.”

I imagined burning sulphur and wrinkled my nose.

“Take that image and think of it as being the essence of you. It’s inside you at all times. Lock it away somewhere inside so that it’s safe.”

I moved my fictitious match into a little box deep in my mind.

“Is it there?”

I nodded, still keeping my eyes firmly closed.

“Great. Now picture your dragon self.”

“I don’t know what I look like, remember? Maybe if you let me see those photos on the Othernet then…”

“Shut up, Red,” said Tom, not unkindly. “Picture what you think your dragon self to be.”

Mentally cursing him, I did just that. It filled my mind, snarling and fiery.

“Don’t think of anything else other than that dragon.”

As soon as he said that, it was impossible not to think of other things. I screwed up my face and concentrated harder. It seemed as if an age went by but, finally, all that remained was my nasty Draco Wyr alter ego.

“When I say so, you are going to open your eyes and look down at your right hand. You’re going to think about it as if it was in dragon form, just as it is in your head. As you do this, you are going to keep that symbol of you at the forefront of your mind. It’s always there. You’re always there, no matter what else you see.”

My hand began to prickle with heat, and tendrils of flame snaked away from my fingers and up my arm. I really hoped Tom knew what he was doing.

“Have you got your symbol?”

“Yes.” My voice sounded as if it was far away.

“Okay, then. Open your eyes.”

I lifted up one eyelid just a crack, and peeked down at my hand. It looked normal. Relaxing slightly, I opened both my eyes and stared down. Nothing happened.

“Imagine the dragon.” Tom said calmly.

My fiery self roared up in my mind and then, all of a sudden, I yelped loudly as my hand began to twist and cramp. My fingernails lengthened out into long curving talons and my skin shimmered deep red. I started to panic, feeling my heart thump deep within and bloodfire begin to roar. My left hand started to ache in equal measure. I couldn’t breathe and…

“The symbol, Mack!”

I remembered my little burning match and imagined it hovering in front of my eyes. That was me. I was still there. I gulped in air and my heart rate started to slow. I stretched out my left hand, feeling each finger wiggle one by one, but continued looking at my right.

“Wow,” I whispered.

It didn’t really look like scales. It didn’t really look like skin, either. And the colour – red didn’t really do it justice. It was more of a glittering burgundy. I flexed out and watched the muscles ripple underneath.

“Now bring back your human hand.”

I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep looking at my dragon shape. Desire to fully transform filled me.

“Mack…”

The imaginary smell of burning sulphur filtered through my brain and the little match flickered. I watched as my hand returned to its normal shape then stretched it out wonderingly, then looked up at Tom. He was pale and sweating. I realised that my own skin was clammy and damp.

“Blimey,” I said. “It worked.”

Chapter Twelve

I said goodbye to Tom at my door, with the sincere promise to continue practising with the partial shifting, then headed back inside to call Alex for an update on his palladium sourcing venture. His phone went straight to voice mail, so I left a quick message, telling him to meet me after the afternoon’s council meeting at Alcazon, and checked my watch. I had just enough time to grab a hot shower and put on some real clothes before Staines showed up. I mulled over exactly just what I’d say to the were-bear. I vowed to myself to keep calm and gently point out to him the error of his ways. Surely I could manage that.

I was just pulling on my jeans, however, when the phone rang. Convinced that it would be the man himself, with some pathetic excuse as to why he couldn’t make it after all, I snarled into the receiver.