When I was a few scant feet away from him, I eyeballed him and hissed, “Did you really think you could get away with this?”
“You’re talking about your hair, right? It’s not my fault if you’re such a gullible bitch that you’d fall for something that stupid.”
My bloodfire blazed. I leapt in the air, kicking out one leg and catching him on his chin so that his head snapped back, then sent one punch to his midsection leaving him doubled over. Several other mages who were clearly trainers rather than students hastily got to their feet to stand beside him, each one with their attack fire gleaming on their palms.
“My fight is not with you,” I growled. “But if you get in my way, then I will take you down.”
They didn’t answer, but instead looked at each other as if in silent communication and then, all at once, sent out a stream of blue flames towards me. Their fire combined into one deadly shot, but I somersaulted in the air and to the side, letting it miss me completely. By the sounds of things it did some rather catastrophic damage to the tables behind me, however I stayed focused on the real action.
I kicked over some of the tables in front of me so that they formed a barrier between myself and the gang of bully mages. I sensed, rather than saw, a flicker of fire coming at me from the left so I sprang backwards to avoid it, then sent out my own green answer. The yelp of pain assured me that my flank was covered, so I turned the spray of flame onto the tables, setting each one alight and creating a wall of hot light through which Thomas’ friends couldn’t get through.
Three of them began to concentrate on my barricade, attempting to douse the flames with their own, whilst the others began to send out a steady stream towards me. A section caught my shoulder, knocking me backwards, but my hand found a plate on the floor and, as I scrambled back up, I sent it flying towards the trapped mages, hitting one smack bang on the middle of his forehead. There was no thought now; it was pure adrenaline and fire. I reached out for more plates and sent them out towards the others, one after the other. Every time one connected, I was rewarded with a gasp or shout or scream of angered pain. Good.
I focused back on Thomas, who was still doubled over on the floor. I took a running jump and leapt over my own flames, then twisted my body so I was behind him, and pulled the crook of my arm around his neck, beginning to squeeze. He choked and gurgled but I yanked harder.
“You’re going to pay, Thomas,” I snarled.
He answered with a gasp. I tightened my grip even further. There was a pounding in my ears. The heat in my veins and arteries was almost overwhelming. I looked out across the room. It seemed that everyone had left, abandoning the scene as soon as they had realised what was going on. I could vaguely make out shouts from outside as no doubt reinforcements were being mobilised. My eyes fell across to Mary, who was still standing where I’d left her, a lone silent figure surrounded by the carnage and debris of over-turned tables and smashed china. Her eyes were filled with horror, and what gallingly appeared to be pity. A tiny tendril of sanity made its way through my brain. Fuck. I released the mage and he fell forward onto the floor, clutching at his neck and gasping for breath. Then I sat down on the floor next to the prone and groaning bodies and covered my face with my hands.
Chapter Three
I assumed that the door to my little bedroom where I’d been frog-marched back to by a posse of grim faced mages was locked. Regardless, I didn’t bother trying it. How could I have lost control so utterly and completely? I moved my hand up to my hair to run my fingers through it in an almost unconscious movement, then remembered I had no hair left and my hand fell back down to my side. The narrow bed I was sitting on felt just as uncomfortable as it had the night before. I tripped through everything in my mind again. I had indeed been an idiot to fall for Thomas’ trick. All the signs had been there that he’d been fooling me; I just hadn’t paid enough attention. To attack him though…that was beyond the pale. They say that revenge is a dish best served cold. I supposed that only worked when you weren’t blazing hot inside.
I curled my fingers into a fist and punched the mattress. All I’d had to do was to keep my mouth shut and my head down. Now the mages were probably going to fling me out or put me in prison or something and I’d never manage to get Mrs. Alcoon freed. I couldn’t see any way out, and I couldn’t envision any way in which I could talk myself out of this. Perhaps if I told them what I really was they’d be more understanding. But I doubted it. They’d probably then be even more keen to make sure that I never saw the light of day ever again. There wasn’t anyone I could call on for help this time; I was truly on my own and it was completely my own fault.
I pushed off the bed and began to pace up and down like a caged cat. The room was so small that I could barely take four paces; every time I reached a wall I lashed out and slammed my fist into it before turning on my heel and doing the same thing again. Before too long my knuckles were bleeding. For a moment I wondered if Solus, the Fae who had tracked me through my blood back in Inverness, could sense what was happening through the mages’ wards. It didn’t really matter if he could, however. He’d refused to come within half a mile of the Ministry building so it was unlikely he’d try to get anywhere near here either. I’d lost count of the amount of times that I went backwards and forwards by the time there was finally a knock on the door. I immediately stilled and pulled my shoulders back. It was time to face the music. Taking a deep breath, I went to the door and opened it. It was the Arch-Mage.
He stared at me silently for several moments. I tried to return his gaze, but ended up dropping my eyes to the floor. He’d given me a chance and I’d blown it.
After what seemed to be an eternity, he finally spoke. “So, it seems that you’ve gotten yourself into quite a lot of bother. I have to admit, I’d rather hoped that you’d manage to hold out longer than a day.” He stepped inside the tiny room. “So what do you have to say for yourself? The Dean is really rather keen that you never darken his door ever again.”
My cheeks warmed involuntarily. “I’m sorry. I just have a bad temper. I flipped out and I know I shouldn’t have. I’ll accept whatever punishment you choose, but you can’t take this out on Mrs. Alcoon. It’s not her fault. I’ll do anything and go anywhere, just please let her go.”“We’ve been through this. The deal was that you went through training so that we know you can control your impulses and your magic, and then we’d take the spell off. There doesn’t seem to be very much control in the slightest on your part. By the founder, you only just took the oath less than thirty minutes before you attacked a mage without any provocation!”
I lifted my head. “That’s not fair! I was provoked! He tricked me into shaving off my hair. I was just trying to do what I was told so that I could be a good initiate. When I found out it was all just a joke on his part, I got angry. That’s all.”
The Arch-Mage stared at me. “Do you mean to tell me that I had to interrupt a council meeting to come all the way here because of a little hazing? I thought you were tougher than that.”
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
He sighed heavily and sat down on the bed then, apparently appreciating how uncomfortable it was, changed his mind and stood back up. “The thing is that I’m sure you mean that right now. But if you can’t even control your temper, then all this is for naught. What happens next time you feel provoked? The point of you being here is to learn control so that you don’t misuse your power. It appears that all you are really learning, Miss Smith, is how to be as violent as possible.”
“Please,” I said in a very small voice. “She’s depending on me. I really will be good.”
He stared at me for a long moment while I held my breath. I knew that the Arch-Mage was a decent sort; our previous encounter in London when I’d broken into the Ministry had proven that. But I also knew that I hadn’t given him all that many options after almost killing one of his mages. I could well imagine that the Ministry, 99% per of whom were already baying for my blood as it was, were putting extraordinary pressure on him to deal with me once and for all.
“You have one final chance,” he said finally.
My heart leapt in my chest, but he held up a single digit in warning.
“However, there is a caveat. Once a week you will attend anger management counselling in London. And if you so much as send a dirty look in the direction of anyone else at this facility, then there will be nothing else I can do.”
I was nodding vigorously. I’d take any olive branch, even if it meant talking to some shrink about my feelings.
The Arch-Mage stared at me, hard. “I mean it, Miss Smith. One more fuck-up and you’re done.”
“I won’t let you down. I promise.”
He didn’t look as if he entirely believed me, but I would just have to prove otherwise to him. And maybe the counselling would help a bit. God knew that I needed to do something to start controlling my temper. It seemed to be getting worse and worse as each day went by.
“It’s for the best if you stay in your room for the remainder of the day. I will have some food sent up to you. You can begin your studies tomorrow, with Friday afternoons off for the counselling. I will smooth things over with Dean Michaels for now.” Something flickered across his eyes as he said that. For a moment, I thought it might be a gleam of self-satisfaction, but it was gone before I could really analyse it.
I blinked my acknowledgement, and the Arch-Mage left without another word. Sinking down onto the floor, I exhaled loudly. I was pretty sure that I’d had a very lucky escape.
*
The next morning, it was Mary who came to escort me to the dining hall. I guessed that she had volunteered for the duty; it was more than likely that after the display yesterday no one else was keen to be my escort. I hoped that Thomas was alright. I didn’t like him, but that didn’t mean I wished pain and suffering on him. Mary at least smiled at me tentatively.