CHAPTER Five
On our return journey, I filled Alex in on what had transpired before he’d arrived. He was suitably appalled.
“Sheesh, Mack Attack. And they’d been told not to let you near the place? What in the Founder’s name was the Lord Alpha doing?”
I desperately wanted to give Corrigan the benefit of the doubt, despite the fact I was still smarting from the revelation of his new lady friend. “He’d said that it was on Staines’ orders, not his.”
Alex sucked in air through his teeth. “Staines? The bear? Why would he do that though?”
I couldn’t think of any reason that made any sense. I tried to rationalise it. “Maybe he was afraid I’d go in all guns blazing and temper flying, and scare her off.”
“Except they were the ones trying to torture her.”
“Yeah.”
“Does he want the credit of hunting down the necromancer dude for himself?”
“I don’t like the guy, but he’s never struck me as a glory hound. I just don’t get it,” I said, frustratedly.
“You could call him and ask. He’s on the council, isn’t he?”
“I could but…” my voice trailed off.
“What?” prompted Alex.
“I’ll lose my temper again. I need to try to act more responsibly if this council is ever going to work. I can’t be the one flying off the handle at every moment.”
A grin spread across Alex’s face. “Is this the new improved Mack Attack that I’m seeing?”
I sighed deeply, the image of Corrigan and the blonde strolling off arm in arm still seared into my brain. “I gave up my shot at happiness when I took on this f*cking job. The last thing I need to be doing now is screwing up the job itself.”
He patted my shoulder. “You’ll work it out.”
I wished I had his confidence. Before I could mull it over further, however, a voice came over the train tannoy, announcing that we were pulling into the next station. I tugged at Alex’s arm.
“Come on.”
He looked confused. “This isn’t your stop.”
“We’re taking a detour.”
The train whined as it came to a halt, and the pair of us stepped off onto the platform.
“Dude, this isn’t going to be, er…”
“Dangerous? “ I smirked slightly at his predictability. “No.”
We walked along, dodging the other commuters, and then emerging out into the late afternoon sun. Because we’d disembarked at King’s Cross, the streets were predictably busy. I began to hum to myself, a particularly tuneless creation that matched my melancholy mood. Alex sent me a sidelong glance, then started to snap his fingers at various intervals, speeding up as he went along, and forcing me to change my beat.
“Woohoowooooooh,” he sang, with even less musical dexterity than I was managing.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhhh,” I continued.
He injected a little skip into his step. “Beedebopdelooolah!”
A harried looking woman pushing a pram gave us a funny look. Alex beamed at her and linked my arm in his, pulling me along with him until the pair of us were both bounding down the pavement and singing at the top of our lungs. I directed him to the left and we continued down the street in the same manner, eventually coming to a halt in front of a large brown building that curved its way in both directions around the street corner.
I gave him a grateful look. “Thanks for that.”
He reached over and gave me a wrist jolting high five, then looked at where we were, raising his eyebrows. “Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital?”
I nodded.
“I know that bruise on your face is looking kind of dodgy, Mack Attack, but you’re not normally so keen to jump in to see a doctor.” A furrow creased his brow. “You’re not a child either.”
I grinned, and pulled him over to the main entrance, veering to the left once we were inside and doing my best to ignore the clinical odour, which hung unpleasantly in the air. We weaved our way along the sterile white corridor, passing the full gamut of doctors, nurses and visitors. One couple in particular caught my eye: a slightly older man with his arm tightly round a woman who I presumed to be his wife. Both their eyes were red-rimmed. I swallowed, and my resolve strengthened further. Alex remained quiet, although I was very aware of the tension that he was exuding.
Before too long we ended up in a small waiting room. I gave both of our names to the receptionist, and she handed over two brightly coloured ‘Welcome Packs’. I took both and then sat down, handing one to Alex.
“You may as well make yourself useful,” I commented, “seeing as how you’re here.”
His face paled as he scanned the red and blue folder, realising the purpose of our visit. “Mack Attack,” he whispered, “I hate needles.”
“Shush,” I said, flipping over the pages and starting to fill out the first form.
He watched me for a few moments, and then sighed and began to do the same. The first page was easy; just basic details of name, age, address, that type of thing. Opting for the safety of a lie, rather than the danger of the truth, I was about to write in an invented address, then, on the spur of the moment, changed my mind and scratched down the address for the Brethren’s keep. I didn’t want to use my real address on the off chance that something which hinted at my bloodfire emerged from whatever tests were undertaken before my blood was donated to a living patient. However, it amused me that the shifters would end up receiving no end of NHS leaflets; and they could easily disavow any knowledge of my existence if there were to be any problems. Besides, it would piss off Corrigan to get junk mail with my name on it. Petty, I knew, but he had been rubbing into my face the fact he’d already moved on. This would make sure he didn’t forget that I existed. Yes, it was ridiculously childish behavior - but I couldn’t be smart and responsible all the time, could I?
I hovered over blood type for a moment, finally ticking the box that stated ‘unknown’. I really would have to hope that when the lab actually tested my type it came up as something vaguely normal and didn’t spontaneously combust inside a test-tube, or anything weird like that. Thinking of the tragic couple we’d passed on the way here made it a danger I was pretty sure I could swallow.
“Is this really a very good idea?”
I ignored Alex’s question, and flipped over to the next page, then ticked off the answers as I went. Have you ever had malaria? No. Have you tested positive for AIDS or HIV? No. Have you paid a prostitute for sex in the last twelve months? No. In the past 12 months, have you had an accidental needlestick or come into contact with someone else's blood? Er, I’d come into contact with quite a lot of blood, but not in the sense that I thought the questionnaire was focusing on. I ticked No.
Then there was a series of questions regarding my recent sexual partners. There had only been one since I’d left Cornwall and I had to admit I knew very little of the truth about who else Corrigan had been with before me. Doing what I could, I made educated guesses, assuming that The Lord Alpha didn’t have HIV, hadn’t recently slept with another man, and was free from hepatitis. Unfortunately, all the questions put me in mind of his perfectly presented blonde again - and just what he was doing with her right at this particular moment in time. A spark of bloodfire flared up, but I quickly dampened it. This was neither the time nor the place to allow that to happen.
There were some more pages of information following the forms. I scanned through them quickly, not paying a huge amount of attention. I skipped the long list of conditions that apparently precluded people from donating blood. I didn’t think being able to transform into a dragon would have made it onto the NHS guidelines, so I reckoned I was probably safe.
As soon as I was done, I glanced over at Alex. He was signing his name at the bottom. Interestingly, there was a remarkably green tinge to his skin.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I said, suddenly feeling guilty for dragging him along.
“No, you’re right, it’s a good idea. Just,” he leaned over so his voice wouldn’t carry, “what exactly will your freaky Draco Wyr blood do to a patient?”
I shrugged. “It’s meant to have healing properties. I don’t know how far that carries. I don’t know if donating blood this way will help anyone. But it’s got to be worth a try. It healed a f*cking vampire,” I reminded him. “Why can’t it heal some sick kid?”
He looked pensive. “It’s addictive, though, isn’t it? It made that dude in Cornwall, the one you didn’t like, go all nutzoid.”
“You mean Anton. And, yes, it did. Iabartu also said something similar about it. But Aubrey had no interest in drinking it once he’d turned human so it might just affect Otherworlders.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“The addiction is temporary. And whoever ends up receiving my blood isn’t going to know where it came from. Being cured of cancer is surely worth a couple of days of strange cravings.” I gave the mage a serious look. “I’ve thought this through, Alex. And I’ve got a book that the Fae translated for me that gives lots of information about the Draco Wyr. It definitely said there are no adverse effects on humans if they come into contact with my blood. I’m going to take getting hooked as an adverse effect. I really don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
He yelped slightly, drawing looks from the other would-be blood donors in the room. He lowered his voice again, but his tone remained urgent. “A book about the Draco Wyr? Why didn’t you tell me before? What else does it say?”
I opened my mouth to speak again, but was interrupted as the figure of a smiling nurse appeared in front of us. “All done?”
I smiled back and handed over my forms. Alex did the same, but elbowed me sharply in the ribs as he did so, as if to remind me that this conversation was most definitely not over. I gave him a demure look of innocence and then we both followed the nurse into a larger room, which had various reclining beds set up. I continued forward, sitting down as the nurse bade me to do, then looked back at Alex. He had stopped at the entrance and was staring aghast at the set up. He still looked green. When he clocked me watching him, he swallowed, his Adam’s apple violently bobbing up and down, and then came and sat on the bed next to me.
“I hate you for this,” he murmured sickly to me.
“Is it your first time?” asked the nurse.
The pair of us nodded in agreement.
“Okay then,” she said kindly, taking pains not to notice his trepidation. “I’m just going to prick the tip of your finger to test your haemoglobin levels, and then, if everything is okay, we’ll get started.”
She moved over to Alex first, using a small lancet. He withdrew his breath sharply, then the nurse moved over to a small table.
“All good,” she called out cheerily, a moment later.
“Excellent,” responded Alex, sounding as if it was anything but.
The nurse headed in my direction with a fresh lancet. I barely felt the prick, observing with interest as she collected the tiny sample. She returned to her table, and remained there, frowning slightly. Uh oh.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, suddenly feeling slightly nervous about what exactly my bloodfire might be doing.
“Oh no, not really,” she flicked me a quick glance filled with reassurance. “It’s just that your levels are slightly on the low side. Nothing to worry about, of course, you might just need some more iron in your diet that’s all. It’s completely normal for a woman of your age.”
Disappointed, I watched her carefully for her reaction. “Does that mean I can’t give blood?”
“No, I think you’ll be alright. It’s not so low as to prevent you from donating. We might send your blood in for a couple of extra tests though.” She smiled at me. “Just in case.”
“Um, what kind of tests?”
“Anaemia, sickle cell deficiency, that kind of thing. It’s really nothing to worry about. If you’re concerned in any way though, we can easily delay your actual donation for a few weeks.”
I shook my head vigorously. I didn’t really like the idea of my blood undergoing a battery of tests, but I figured it would be to look for specific known problems. Being a dragon probably wasn’t something that even the helpful people at Great Ormond Street Hospital would think to look for. And, considering the situation with Endor, goodness knew where I’d be or what would be happening in a few weeks’ time. I wanted to get this done now, while I still could. Even if my weird Draco Wyr blood only helped one person, that would be enough.
“Okay then. Who would like to go first?” she asked.
Sneaking a look at the pallor on Alex’s face, I volunteered. The nurse took a band and fixed it tightly round my upper arm, then slowly inserted the needle. I watched, fascinated, as my blood began to snake its way out. It certainly didn’t look any different to anyone’s else’s.
“I’m going to be sick,” moaned Alex.
“It’s fine,” I reassured him. “You can hardly feel it.”
“But it’s so…so…red,” he exclaimed. “Anyway, I thought we were going to be doing something about money, Mack Attack.”
“All in good time.”
The nurse moved over to Alex, instructing him to look away. He moaned again, and turned his face towards me, screwing his eyes tightly shut. I shook my head. Given all that we’d been through since we’d known each other, I’d have expected Alex to cope with this a little better. When she inserted the needle, he gave out a little shriek. The nurse patted him on the shoulder.
“There now, just ten minutes and you’re all done.”
He sniffed and nodded, keeping his eyes firmly closed. There was a clatter from behind, and the nurse looked up, holding her hand towards me to indicate she would be back in a few minutes. I gave her a nod of acknowledgement then, once she’d gone, turned back to Alex.
“You were asking about the money?”
He didn’t respond.
“Alex! Hey! You were asking me about the money.”
“Mmm.”
I guessed that was the most I was going to get out of him for now. I continued. “Well, the thing is, I was round at Balud’s this morning.” I quickly outlined what the troll had told me, and that the expected cost of making a bunch of palladium based weapons was going to be high. “So my plan is to go home after this and send out an email to all the council members and get them to talk to their organisations for some cash.”
Alex’s eyes flew open. “What? No! You can’t do that!”
Okaydokey. That wasn’t quite the reaction I’d been hoping for. Apparently it was possible to bring him out of his needle-induced nausea, after all. I eyed him warily.
“Why not? We need the money to get the metal. We need the metal to make the weapons. We need the weapons to defeat f*cking Endor.”
“The Ministry doesn’t have any money.”
“I know they don’t have much, but…”
“No, Mack Attack, they really don’t have any money. Every missive I’ve been sent recently has been about how we can start to raise some funds. You have no idea how hard the recession has hit us.”
“If there’s no money, then the Arch-Mage can just decline. The Brethren and the Fae will step up. I wasn’t expecting much from your lot’s side anyway.”
“You’re forgetting the politics. The Arch-Mage can’t be seen to be the only person not stepping up to the plate. If the faeries and the furries give money, then we have to as well. Otherwise the loss of face will be catastrophic. We’ll have no choice but to match whatever the others put in, and that will completely bankrupt us.”
“That’s so f*cking stupid!”
He shrugged expressively, a troubled look crossing his sun-kissed face. “You can’t just avoid asking the Ministry to contribute either. If it got out that you, as the all-powerful dragon council leader, went to everyone else except us for money, then the result would be even worse. No-one likes being made to feel like an object of pity.”
Outf*ckingstanding. “I need to get hold of palladium, Alex.”
He sighed. “Let me see what I can do first. There must be some other way to source it without having to pay for it.”
That sounded a hell of a lot like stealing to me. I gave in for the time being, however, murmuring a reluctant assent. “Just don’t take too f*cking long. Goodness knows when Endor will decide to show up again.”
The nurse bustled back in, removed the needles and swabbed over the small wounds on our arms, before covering them with a blob of cotton wool and some surgical tape.
“There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Alex grunted weakly in return. At the very least, the colour was starting to return to his cheeks. She handed us both over a biscuit and cup of something luridly orange.
“Just lie back, and relax, and finish those off, then you’ll be good to go.”
“Thanks,” I said, looking doubtfully down at the drink.
“Would you like me to take a look at your face while you’re here?”
“No, it’s alright. It looks worse than it is, honest. I just walked into a door this morning, that’s all.”
Both the nurse and Alex gazed at me with unmistakable skepticism. I gave a short laugh, more out of continued exasperation than humour. “No, really I did. But thanks again, anyway.”
“Yeah, thanks,” agreed Alex. He arched an eyebrow at me. “While we’re waiting, Mackenzie, you can tell me all about that book you’ve been reading.” He sent me a pointed look.
I took a sip, wincing at the rush of sugar that the juice provided, “Sure,” I said, unenthusiastically. “I can’t wait.”