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

She lifted it to her lips. Pressed against her lips, she whispered magical words against its surface. The imprint of her lips remained in a red bow as she drew it away from the warmth of her skin.

“I have no time for petty magic tricks,” she said loudly.

Her eyes scanned the area around her, but she could see nothing. The Graverobber knew what he was doing. She’d give him that. The mist around her was so thick that she could hardly see her own hand if she held it straight out in front of her.

“Too bad he’s not more original,” she snorted. “As if a little bit of moving fog was going to startle me.”

The fog seemed to roil as if it was insulted that she didn’t find it intimidating. Lyra didn’t have time for this. She rolled her eyes for good measure and crushed the glass orb in her fist.

Bright sparkles of magic erupted from her palm and stabbed at the mist around her. Swirls of light reflecting ribbons whirled in the air before her until it was clear once more.

She flicked her fingers to rid herself of any lingering glitter. Lyra had no use for magic when it wasn’t working. The nasty stuff tended to try and hang onto people like a child needing reassurance. It wanted a purpose. She wasn’t about to give it anything to do. The damned substance could find a new master for all she cared.

“Seems a little like something a rookie would do,” she commented into the darkness. “You invited me here, albeit reluctantly. I will not beg.”

The iron gate in front of her creaked. Her eyes narrowed in contemplation as it began to move on its own. Slowly, it heaved its hefty weight backwards until her path into the graveyard was clear.

That was new. She hadn’t seen something like that done before, and Lyra had seen quite a bit of magic in her day. There weren’t many creatures she knew of that could control iron.

She could think that it was all an illusion if it weren’t for the burns on her palms. Her fingers curled into her hand to reassure herself that the pain was still there. If he was an Illusionist and this all wasn’t real then he was the strongest Illusionist in existence.

The thought wasn’t much of a stretch for one of the Lords. Lyra shivered as she considered the possibilities. This man could be more powerful than Bones. He could be more powerful than all of them.

The graveyard was eerily silent. Headstones decorated the ground and cast shadows as the moonlight brightened the darkness. Some had fallen to the ground and were crumbling as time aged them beyond saving.

Her eyes lingered upon the etched numbers on one of the remaining headstones that still stood. The number nearly made her breath catch as she realized the graveyard she stood in was very old. Hundreds of years old, in fact.

“1992,” she whispered.

Somehow, being in this place made her feel as though she needed to be quiet. There was so much power in such a small place. There weren’t nearly as many graves here as in many other places. Yet there was a taste on her tongue that warned her that magic was heavy in the air.

“Pull yourself together, Lyra.”

She wouldn’t have this reverence or fear dictating what moves she made. She knew how to be strong. She knew how to control other people.

She was a Siren, damnit. This was just another man who needed to fall under her spell.

Turning on her heel, she cast a glance around her to see if she could find any anomaly that would give her a hint as to where he was. There were none. The air didn’t have any rips or tears, there was no smell or cologne, there wasn’t even the sound of another person moving.

“Graverobber!” she shouted. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

A gust of hot air blew from behind her. Tendrils of her dark hair escaped from its high ponytail and lashed against her cheeks. Apparently, she had managed to catch his attention.

“It’s about time!” she yelled.

She heard a large clanking sound behind her and managed to turn fast enough to see two stone doors open. They led down into the ground, where the moonlight did not banish the shadows. It was going to be a long night.

Sighing, she turned and walked in the direction he obviously wanted her to go. All the while, she wondered, why the theatrics? It seemed more likely that the Graverobber didn’t want to hold up on his end of the bargain.

Lyra hesitated only a moment at the top of the stairs that disappeared into the darkness. Her boots clicked hard against the stone steps. The sound echoed around her until it sounded like the ticking of a clock. Danger likely lurked around the corner, but she couldn’t find any way to convince herself to be nervous.

The Graverobber was an enigma she was so close to figuring out. She had sent out messages to her contacts before here. Anyone that still lived in the Black Market had been trying to find out information for her.

All of them had come up empty handed. No one had seen the Graverobber before. And if they had, they weren’t giving up any details about the illusive man. He was a secret that no one had managed to peel the edges away from. Lyra was good at picking. She would know everything about him as soon as she could.

The doors rose on their own and crashed shut. Yet another attempt to scare her. She refused to flinch at the sound.

A light sparked to life ahead of her. Candles lit the stairs with a spark that should have been warm. Instead, the yellowed color slowly turned red. More magic.

“Wow,” she muttered. “You’re really going all out to try and make this so romantic for me.”

The light seemed to sputter for a moment. Lyra smirked at the