Read Bloodlust for Free Online Page B

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