Bloodrage by Helen Harper Page A

those last two words, “training academy in the world, even though you are not a mage.  You attack me and, instead of being thrown out as you should be, you are offered counseling.  You destroy a priceless painting and send a well respected teacher into therapy and nothing happens. And,” his voice rose half an octave higher, “you have now been given special dispensation to offer Protection lessons to a group of Level Four Initiates at the weekends that focus on attack instead of defense as the rest of us actual teachers are forced to give.”
    Wow, bitter much?  I had to admit that I was surprised that the Protection lessons I was going to give Mary and her friends were going to be allowed to go ahead, and I still felt guilty about Higgins, but I didn’t think that Thomas was seeing the whole picture.
    “Do you think I want to be here?” I snapped.  “There are a million places in the world that I would rather be than this sodding place.  The Arch-Mage will free Mrs. Alcoon – that’s her name by the way, she’s actually a person, a human being – because she’s not done anything wrong and is no threat to you whatsoever.  Of course your amazing Magnificence will only do so after he’s forced me to spend fucking years at this stupid school! Damaging that Escher lithograph was an accident and, anyway, I was just doing what I was told.  I’m sorry about your friend Higgins and I hope he recovers soon, but those Level Four Initiates asked me to teach them, not the other way around, so get off your fucking high horse and chill out.”
    Thomas was silent.  You’d think that spurting off my diatribe of woe and getting it finally all off my chest would make me feel better, but instead I just felt angry.  Shooting sparks of heat shot along my veins and arteries.  I scowled and went to thrust my hands in my pockets, then remembered that the robes I was wearing didn’t have any and cursed aloud, kicking a stone at me foot instead.  It went clattering off across the cobbles, bouncing for several feet.
    “And here we get to lesson number one,” Thomas finally said softly.
    “Oh right,” I drawled sarcastically, “of course pissing me off is just so you can raise some kind of salient teaching point and show off with just how wise and knowing you are.”
    “Look at your hands.”
    I glanced down.  Flickers of green flame ran along my fingertips.  I clenched my fists, hiding them from sight.  ‘So fucking what?”
    “If you can’t begin to control yourself then you can’t begin to control an attack.”
    “Oh yeah?  Because if you look at one of the reasons why I’m here, you’ll see that I’m actually pretty damn good at controlling attacks.  Better than your bloody mages, anyway.”
    “And naturally you’ll only ever have to fight mages,” Thomas muttered.  “Not earthquake inducing terrameti, or one-eyed monsters or demi-goddesses, that are stronger, faster and better than you.”
    I spluttered.  “How the hell do you know…?”  Goddamnit, if that had been Alex blabbing then I’d bloody well kill him.
    “The Lord Alpha was most forthcoming about your exploits.  He thought that it might help your progress here if we knew more about you.  There’s actually a rather thick file with sorts of information in the Dean’s office.”
    Hot fiery blood pounded in my ears.  Corrigan.  I might have fucking known it.
    Thomas drew a deep breath.  “Baldilocks?  Is that what you want to be called?”
    I swore at him violently.
    “Okay, okay,” he said, palms held upwards.  “Initiate Smith, then.”
              “It’s fucking Mack.”
    “Alright, fucking Mack,” he said in a placatory tone.
    I rolled my eyes at him and clenched my teeth.
    “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.  Mack, you need to understand that the fury you get yourself worked up into is your downfall.  If you can control yourself better, then you will be more successful at whatever it is you want to