Red Blood (Series of Blood Book 2) by Emma Hamm (best short books to read .TXT) 📕

The hug was not welcome. She did not need it. Yet, she found herself folding into the strength he offered her. Tears flooded her eyes until the gasping breaths of fear became loud sobs that made her entire body shake.

“Easy there, Siren,” he murmured. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I’m not. I’m not going to be fine.” Her hands rose to clutch at his finely pressed shirt.

“I need you to go to the Graverobber. I need you to repeat these words exactly.”

She laughed. It was a grating sound that hurt even her own ears. “I thought for a moment you might have a kind bone in your body, Pitch. I was obviously wrong.”

As she started to pull away, he caught her with one arm. His hand rose to brush away a tear on her smooth cheek.

“Repeat these words to me, Lyra. Pitch asked me to speak to you to repay a debt he owes. He wants you to know that a contract can be broken.”

She froze.

“What?” Her voice wobbled.

“Repeat the words.”

“A contract can be broken.”

The grin that spread across his statuesque features made him appear almost human for a brief moment. His full lips hid perfectly smooth cheeks, which dimpled in his happiness. She would have found him handsome if not for the darkness that slowly swallowed his eyes whole.

“Good. Now, go to the Graverobber and be certain he knows this.”

Pitch stepped away from her to walk towards the shadows in the corner of the kitchen.

“Pitch, wait.”

He paused just long enough for her to gather her thoughts. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, this time with hope.

“Why?” she asked. “Why are you helping me? Why did you help Wren?”

“That is another secret.” He turned just enough for her to see his dark eyes once more. “Did you not say you were going to find out my secrets?”

She should have known he wouldn’t answer the question. There was no reason for him to do so when he knew she would never understand.

A small smile broke across her face. “Right. I look forward to digging in those graves.”

The shadows reached out from the corner and pulled. One moment he stood before her; the next, he was gone.

She swallowed hard. Perhaps her life wasn’t over. Maybe she could pull herself back together and find a cure for her affliction. But hope was a dangerous drug that she could easily overdose on. One thing was certain, however.

She was going to meet the Graverobber.

Chapter 6

The crunching sound of her boots echoed as she made her way through the crushed stones that littered the ground before the cemetery gates. Lyra had always thought it strange to decorate a place where only the dead lived. She didn’t care what they did with her body once her soul was gone.

Her Siren hadn’t cared either before it had merged with her. Of course, that could be part of the reason why she didn’t care. A considerable amount of the creature’s personality had been gifted to her just before the voice had disappeared forever.

Cold air dug through the seams of her jacket. She had yet to find the gate into the graveyard. Her breath fogged in front of her as she exhaled and stared up at the delicately curled metal fence that circled the graves. It had clearly been made by magic. Delicate vines arched in curves that were woven far too tightly for any creature to make naturally.

Lyra had always found such magical things beautiful. How could she not? They were all made of magic, humans and nature alike. It flowed through her veins just as much as blood.

Her hand raised to press against the cool metal. A sizzling sound was her warning before she flinched back with a hiss.

“Iron?” she whispered as she held her hand tight against her ribs. Violent red marks burned against her flesh for a few moments more before steam stopped rising from her palm.

“Who actually uses iron anymore?”

It was an important question. Only Red Bloods were capable of touching Iron. Magical creatures couldn’t stand the feel of the metal. The pain that resulted in even the smallest of glances was worse than a knife.

Most, if not all, creatures had taken to using silver instead. The metal was softer, but it would function in mostly the same way. It was too soft to create reliable locking mechanisms, however. Magic had taken the place of a lock and key. If one had items that needed to be protected, one would use magic to keep it safe.

Anyone could pick a lock. Very few could unravel a well made spell.

This was another piece in her puzzle. However, Lyra found that all the puzzle pieces didn’t fit together. When it came to the Graverobber, she felt as though each puzzle piece went to an entirely different picture.

She let out a huff of breath that bloomed in front of her face.

“Strange,” she whispered. The air in front of her seemed odd. Her breath should fog in the air; it was cold after all. But the resulting fog shouldn’t last that long.

Lyra leaned forward slightly and exhaled long and slow. She could still see her breath, but the white mist before her only continued to grow. Slowly, it became a wall she could not see past.

She chuckled as her lips twisted in a wry grin. “Magic.”

Two could play at that game. The Graverobber obviously didn’t know her very well if he thought he could confuse her with a small spell like this. Mist was the first thing that any Illusionist learned.

Lyra had firsthand experience with Illusionists. She tried to forget the memory of Bones that burned bright in her mind.

She reached into a pocket hidden at the small of her back. There were many small orbs tucked against the curve of her spine. They bulged and appeared to be extremely pronounced bones to the unwise eye.

One small orb dropped out of its sleeve. Another rolled down her back and settled into the