Spark of Sorcery (The Firestone Academy Book 2), page 27
“You sound like her,” he observes. “Are her weird conspiracy theories rubbing off on you?”
“You mean her sister?” He nods. “I think it’s strange.”
“Hmmm,” he says, then lets out a huff of frustration. “We’ve walked miles. I’m starting to get a blister.”
“We need to find him,” I say. I can’t imagine returning to Briony with the news that we’ve failed.
“Yeah, I know.” He peers at me and the dead rat and then towards the hills, then places a forefinger and a middle finger from each hand in his mouth and blows really hard. A high-pitched whistle sounds through the trees.
At first nothing happens, and I think, like every other attempt to find this dragon, it’s going to come to nothing.
Then I hear a distant sound, like the rustle of branches.
“Hear that?” I ask.
“Uh huh,” Fly says, standing on his tip toes and scanning the canopy.
The next thing we know a dragon the size of a dog comes swooping out of the trees and snatches the dead rat right from my grasp. He takes off into the canopy immediately afterwards and zooms away out of sight.
“Was that him?” I ask.
“Looked like it. And, do we truly think there could be other dragons out here?”
It’s a good point, but I still say, moodily, “He’s grown a lot.”
“Well, at least we know he’s alive,” Fly says.
“Yes, but how are we going to convince him to come with us?”
“Got anymore rats in your pockets?”
“No.”
“Then beats me.”
I consider our options. “We know he’s safe,” I muse, “and keeping well hidden. I think we leave him until Briony’s well enough to come fetch him.”
“How long do you think that will be?” Fly says.
“I don’t know,” I say, thinking of her pale face and the whirring machines. “They nearly killed her.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Beaufort
“Who?” I whisper, my eyes boring into my bond brother’s.
“The Hardies’ thrall and her band of merry little friends,” Dray answers.
“You’re sure about that?” Professor Tudor asks, rubbing his fingers through his beard.
“Absolutely. The little bitch stinks of jealousy and envy. It’s a real fucking distinct kind of flavor.” He wrinkles his nose.
“Kratos put her up to it,” I say.
“That’s one hell of an accusation to make.”
“Was it Kratos who manipulated the maze trial?” I ask the professor, glaring at him. Thorne said he knew who it was. Thorne said the professor would deal with it. Now I understand why he was so damn willing to help.
“No,” the professor answers, “and that problem has been dealt with.”
I shake my head. We seem to have fucking enemies in all directions.
“Kratos put his thrall up to this. You should have seen the way Kratos was sitting there in the truck on the way back to the academy,” I say, “grinning at me like he’d just been named the next Emperor of the realm.”
“That isn’t exactly evidence.”
“I don’t give a shit. I’m still going to rip out his throat. Followed by his ball sack … actually I’m going to go with his ball sack first, then his throat.”
“And start a civil war?” the professor dismisses.
“You don’t think he was attempting to start a civil war when he tried to get our thrall killed?”
“Something he will deny,” the professor points out, “and you have no proof.”
I grit my teeth. The professor is right. Not that I have to like it.
“So what you saying, Prof.?” Dray says in outrage, bouncing up on his toes, and getting all up in Tudor’s face. “We let him get away with it?”
“No, I’m saying barging in with all your magic firing, instead of thinking about it first, will only lead to trouble. And,” he says, clearly identifying our weak spot, “more danger for Briony.”
“Shit,” Dray says, backing away. Then his gaze flicks to mine. “We won’t be able to stop Thorne.”
“Does Thorne know who did this?” Tudor asks.
“No, not yet.”
“Then I suggest you hold off telling him until we’ve worked out what to do about this.”
“We have to strike back,” I say, “if we don’t, they’ll only try again and I won’t have Briony used as some kind of pawn in their power games.”
“We could kill their thrall,” Dray says, “an eye for an eye and all that. It would only be fair.”
“And you think they wouldn’t retaliate in return?” the professor says. “You think that would keep Briony safe?”
Dray lands his hands on the professor’s chest and pushes at him. “How about you stop criticizing all our ideas, and start coming up with some of your own suggestions then, brainiac?”
“We could take this through the official route.”
I groan, scrubbing at the back of my neck. “Are you serious?”
“You don’t think having their thrall expelled would piss the Hardies off?” he says with sarcasm.
“It doesn’t exactly seem like a just punishment for what they did, though.”
“How about if she were expelled and sent to Slate Quarter?”
Dray bursts out laughing. “Can you imagine the look on that little bitch’s face?” He turns to me again. “Could you make it happen?”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
Could I? Probably. If I say the right things, make the right promises. I’d also have to reveal information I’d rather keep to myself.
Then again, there doesn’t seem to be an alternative. Not one that prevents a war between shadow weaver factions.
“Yeah,” I say with very little enthusiasm. “Yeah, probably.” I scrub at my face. “I’m still going to beat the shit out of Kratos though.” The professor goes to argue with me. “I’ll make sure he keeps his ball sack and his throat. But I am going to make him hurt for this.”
“Hurting his fragile pride,” Tudor says, “will always be more painful to Kratos than anything you can do with your fists.”
Dray spends the next hour fidgeting like a toddler on a sugar high, climbing across furniture, raiding a vending machine and interrogating any passing member of staff. After a while I can’t take it any longer and send him off on a mission to find out more information about last night, who was involved and how they were persuaded to take part.
He bounds off eagerly, leaving just me and the professor behind.
“He is … a lot,” the professor mutters, rubbing at his eye sockets.
“He’s my bond brother,” I growl.
“Congratulations,” the professor says, showing his fangs off as he pulls a fake smile.
We sit in silence for another hour, both eyeing each other, until the doctor arrives accompanied by two nurses.
Immediately, we both spring to our feet.
“Is there a problem, doctor?” Tudor asks, beating me to it.
“No,” she says. “I’m just going to check in on my patient and give her another dose of treatment.”
“Will this heal her completely? Will she need more? Was there any permanent damage?” I word vomit.
“Beaufort Lincoln?” she says, staring at me with surprise.
“She’s our thrall,” I say, answering her obvious question: why the hell are you interested in this girl from Slate?
“How about I finish this treatment and then come back to update you?”
“I’d like to observe the treatment.”
The doctor hesitates, obviously unsure whether she can refuse me.
“Come on, Lincoln,” the professor says, slamming his cold hand on my shoulder. “Let’s leave the doctor to do what she needs to do in peace.”
I consider arguing the point but I want Briony healed – the sooner the better.
The doctor nods hesitantly and then ducks inside the room with the two nurses. I sit back in the chair, watching the minutes tick past on my wristwatch, wondering how long this could take.
Her injuries must be bad if it’s taking this long, if they’re keeping her in the clinic like this.
I rub at my cheeks with my hands and peer at the professor.
He’s still here, unwilling to leave her side.
Is he telling the truth? Is she his mate as well as ours?
I remember my mother telling me never to trust a bloodsucker. Then again she made it clear I shouldn’t trust anyone. Some days I wonder if I can even trust her.
And what if he is telling the truth? What the hell does that mean?
This girl from Slate Quarter – scars on her back from where she’s been abused – has not just three powerful mates, she has four.
I strain to see that vision in my mind’s eye. It had been so fucking fleeting and yet so vivid, so intense. I hadn’t just seen it. I’d felt it in my bones, in my blood, in my marked soul. But had there been a fifth person in that vision? A fourth mate? Another man?
Perhaps there had been – a shadow, lurking in the background.
“What do you think it means?” I ask the professor.
“I think she was badly injured and the doctor needs time to heal her properly.”
“No, I mean – us, her.” I meet his glowing eyes. “Do you really think fate has brought the five of us together?”
“All I know is that it has brought me to her.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that.”
“Yeah, and I’ll have to take yours.”
We stare at each other. The professor rubs his fingers against his bearded chin.
“I don’t know why fate has brought us together. But I guess we’ll find out.”
“I don’t like surprises,” I say petulantly.
“Life is full of surprises. It’s the one constant you can depend on.”
Except I have the vision. Tiny insights into what’s coming. If only I could have one that would answer this question.
“Have you told anyone?” he asks me. “About your situation with the girl.”
“No, as far as anyone else knows she’s just our thrall.” I hold his gaze. “I’d like to keep it that way. And I’m assuming you won’t be telling anyone about your situation, seeing as you’re her teacher.” I spit the last word and he draws his hands down his face.
“No, I won’t be telling anyone.” He drops his hands into his lap. “But before you ask, no, I won’t be staying away from her either. I tried that, and it nearly got her killed. Twice.”
“I’m sleeping with her,” I say, not sure if I say it as a boast or to provoke the dude. “It won’t be long before Dray is too.”
“She get a say in that?” he growls.
“She gets a very big say in that.” I smirk.
“Real mature,” he mutters.
I lean back in my chair. “Do you want to sleep with her, Professor?”
“I think that’s her choice to make and none of your business.”
“She’s my girl. Of course, it’s my business.”
“She’s my mate,” he says, “it’s inevitable.”
I hold his gaze, jealousy erupting around my body, but I can’t deny the truth of the statement. The attraction between mates is too strong. No matter how hard two people fight it – destiny and desire combined are two brutal forces.
“It seems to me we have two choices, Beaufort.” He leans against the wall, folding his arms over his broad chest. “We can be rivals. We can fight for her attention and her affection. We can make each other’s lives and hers hell. Or we can accept the situation as it is and work together to keep that girl safe. Because,” he says, “whatever our fate, I suspect it has something special in store for her – I can’t understand why it would have brought the three of you together, and then brought all of us to her otherwise.”
I’m quiet for sometime, mulling over his words as voices murmur in the room behind and machinery somewhere deeper in the clinic whirs away.
“Okay,” I say finally, “I think we should work together.”
“Does that mean,” he says, eyes locked on me, “that if she wants to be with me, you won’t stand in our way?”
“Are you asking me if you can sleep with her?”
“It’s not your choice.” He hesitates. “But I’d like to know you were okay with it all the same?”
I scoff. “It’s hard enough knowing I have to share her with two other men as it is – and they are my bond brothers–”
“I’m not exactly thrilled with the idea myself,” he mumbles.
My hands are damp with perspiration and I rub them along my thighs.
“But then sometimes I think about what it would be like to share her …”
I let that idea hang in the air and we’re silent again.
“It’s her choice,” the professor repeats.
Chapter Fifty
Briony
I’m dozing when the door opens again and the doctor comes in accompanied by two nurses.
“Ahh, you’re awake,” she says, striding to the machines above my head and checking the readings. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I say, “very ready to leave.”
“Are you?” She laughs. “Most of my patients appreciate the opportunity to rest and have a break from the academy.”
“I’d rather get back to my friends.”
“And we’ll get you back to them as fast as we can.” I nod eagerly. “But not until we’re 100% satisfied that you’re better.”
“You know the treatment isn’t quite so thorough over at the commoners’ clinic.”
“Yes,” the doctor says, stiffly, “but this is the shadow weaver clinic. You’re very fortunate Professor Tudor brought you here. That the Princes are your protectors. I’m not sure they would have had the resources or the skills to have saved you over at the commoners’ clinic.”
“That hardly seems fair, does it?” I say, just as stiffly.
The doctor ignores my comment, taking my arm in her hand and feeling for my pulse. “Much stronger.” She closes her eyes and I feel her magic penetrate under my skin and into my body. “The healing is working,” she murmurs, “although there is still some damage to that ruptured spleen,” one of the nurses scribbles down notes on a clipboard, “and some bleeding on that right kidney.” She opens her eyes and looks at me. “They really gave you a thorough kicking.”
“Uh huh,” I say, despite all the healing the doctor has done, my body is still littered with bruises and cuts from the attack.
She closes her eyes again. “I’m going to work on healing these some more. It may feel a little uncomfortable.” She mumbles something under her breath, her brow crinkling with concentration, and a peculiar sensation crawls under my skin.
I was unconscious for the previous healing by the medical staff and she is right, it isn't exactly pleasant. Not like when Beaufort has healed me. That was incredibly pleasant, bordering on seductive. This is not. I grit my teeth and try to think about something else.
The minutes tick by and a sheen of sweat appears on the doctor's brow as sweat trickles down my neck. I want to ask her to stop but she must already think I’m a complete pathetic weakling.
Finally, however, she does, releasing my hand with a loud exhale of air.
She wipes the back of her hand over her brow.
“There,” she says, squeezing my shoulder. “The spleen is healed and the kidney has stopped bleeding. I may need to do some more work on that. I’ll check again in a few hours.” She smiles at me. “You did well.”
“I did?” I say, surprised.
“Oh yeah,” she says, “most grown men are begging me to stop after just a few minutes.”
The nurses titter and they gather up their equipment and head to the door.
“We’ll be back in another couple of hours to check on you. If you need anything in the meantime, just ring the buzzer.”
“Thank you,” I say. I hesitate. There’s something else I want to ask the doctor, but I’m not sure if I’m brave enough.
She’s almost through the door, following the nurses, when I make up my mind that I am. “Doctor?”
“Yes?” she says.
“Could I … could I talk to you alone for a moment?”
She shuts the door behind her and walks back over to the bed. “How can I help?” she asks.
“Does doctor–patient confidentiality apply in this clinic?” I bet it does for the shadow weavers but do the same rules apply to me?
“Of course.” She eyes me. “If you are at all concerned you may have been pregnant–”
“Pregnant?!” I screech. “No!”
“We ran a test just to make sure. It’s surprisingly common.”
“That … that wasn’t it.” I shake my head. “We use protection.” My cheeks sizzle.
She nods. “We can give you the shot if you’re interested. It’s more reliable.”
“Thank you.” Maybe that doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. “That would be good. But that wasn’t what I wanted to ask you about … although I guess it is sort of related.”
She looks at me with puzzlement. “Are you worried about sexually transmitted diseases, because we checked for those too.”
“Good to know,” I say, with a half-smile. “Can you … do you know much about fated mates? I mean, scientifically or medically.”
The book the library threw at me (literally) had a lot of information, but most of it read like myth and legend. There was nothing scientific about it.
She stares at me and then her eyes drift to the door. I don’t know if she suspects I’m talking about me and the Princes – me, the Princes and the professor. But I bet if she did suspect that, she’d dismiss it pretty quickly. Then again, it would account for the fact they’re all lurking about the hospital.
“It isn’t my area of expertise, but I do know a little. What would you like to know?”
“If there’s any truth in it. If it’s all just mumbo jumbo.”
