Bloodrage - Helen Harper Page 0,5

edge of the bed. I lifted a strand of hair and gazed at it mournfully in the pre-dawn darkness. Maybe I’d take the necklace off first instead.

I reached round the back of my neck, searching for the clasp to undo it. My fingers couldn’t seem to find it, however. I felt all the way along the length of the chain, but whatever mechanism had originally been in place now appeared to have disappeared. Okaydokay. Feeling rather weirded out, I yanked at the chain instead, trying to snap it. Nothing happened. I pulled harder but the thing remained stubbornly round my neck. It occurred to me that maybe I could squeeze it over my head and try to wiggle myself out of it, but when I started to pull it upwards, rather than outwards, it seemed to tighten itself infinitesimally, and I couldn’t even scrape it past my chin. I was vaguely reminded for a moment of Frodo’s one ring and wondered idly whether the mages would free Mrs Alcoon if I threw myself into the fires of Mount Doom. It probably wasn’t an option. I shrugged to myself. If they wanted the necklace off that badly then they’d have to help me with it. After all, I figured, it was a bloody mage who’d put it on me in the first place so it would just have to be another bloody mage to take it off.

Of course it did mean that I was already putting myself in the position of incurring even more wrath from the Dean. I really needed a good report card if I was going to progress here and get out. Damn it. I reached over and picked up the scissors that Mage Thomas had left the night before. My fingertips began to tingle with a drumming heat that snaked its way up my arms, pulsing through my entire body. My bloodfire was clearly mirroring my unhappiness. I walked over to the sink with a heavy heart and poised the blades over a hank of hair. Screwing my face up tight I began to cut, using the scissors to take off most of the length, then I grabbed the electric razor and switched it on. Its buzz reverberated through me and I almost threw the fucking thing against the wall to smash it to pieces, then swallowed down my angst and vanity and began to run it over my scalp, inch by inch.

It was difficult to know whether I’d managed to get all the hair off without a mirror to look into. I ran my hands over my head and was pretty sure there weren’t any odd tufts left. On the floor around me were all the forlorn remnants of the red hair that I was so proud of. It didn’t feel like that long since I’d managed to get the dye out that I’d used to stay nondescript in Cornwall. And now I was completely bald. It would probably take months, even years, for it to grow back to a reasonable length.

I paused for a moment. Mary had short hair, but I was sure that I’d seen lots of students the day before with longer hair. I tried to remember what colour robes they were wearing, but before I could progress any further with my thoughts there was a knock at the door.

I stepped over and opened it. Mage Thomas was there, waiting. When he caught sight of my newly shorn head, his eyes widened and something flashed through them for a quick moment before disappearing.

“Like what you see?” I grunted.

He pursed his lips and didn’t reply, just waved at me to follow him.

I sighed and followed him yet again. This seemed to be becoming my life, trailing around after good old Mage Thomas and his winning ways.

I’d been expecting the oath taking ceremony to be held in some grand ballroom type arena, but surprisingly the mage led me outside towards the back of the school and down through a garden. The morning air was crisp and cold, and I was starting to shiver. You’d think that the mages would come up with some kind of garment for winter that would be more insulating. But, then again, perhaps I was so cold because I no longer had any hair of my own to cover my head. Certainly, my ears were starting go numb around the edges and the slight breeze blowing around my naked skull felt extraordinarily peculiar.

When we finally came to a halt, I realised