Blue Blood (Series of Blood Book 3) by Emma Hamm (books to read this summer .txt) 📕

grating, her voice was not muffled by the beak. Anyone else might have winced.

Not Mercy. She had desired to meet these people for longer than she could recall. And now she was here.

Mercy was overwhelmed as the others began to step out of their tents. A Hippocampus, more horse than fish, bobbed its head in greeting. A Centaur rose to his feet, regal and imposing. A Thunderbird flew above her and landed with a soft thud.

“You’re all here.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

“We’re all here.” The Hag nodded as she said the words. As Mercy met her gaze again, the Hag’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “And you are finally here in person.”

She felt as though she had come home. Though she had only sent them messages through Ignes and his flames, their words had kept her alive. Her mind had not wandered nearly as much as it could have because they had welcomed her into their community without fear or judgement.

These kind hearted creatures looked at her as one of their own. Mercy did not know how to thank them, she owed a debt to them that could not be repaid. She did not know how to be a person who was kind and good. They deserved that.

So she hesitated. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, and Ignes burned a hole in her shirt.

The Thunderbird stamped its foot and spread its wings wide. “Well?” Its great booming voice made her head ache. “Are you going to say hello or not?”

“Yes.” She laughed as the dams burst open. “Yes, I am!”

She ran towards them, a burning pillar of woman, but none of them flinched. They knew she could not control her powers in this moment, nor did they expect her to. They had all been there once before.

The Hippocampus snorted a fine mist that put Mercy’s fire out the moment she reached the Hag. Though the woolen robes that enveloped Mercy smelled slightly of must and burnt hair, she could not be happier.

The Hag was a mother. Kindness and honor had saturated the messages she sent while Mercy slept. The Hag’s wrinkled hand pat Mercy’s head and pressed her further into warmth and comfort.

“You’re home now, girl,” the Hag told her. “Welcome home.”

Ignes burned so hot against Mercy’s chest that she was certain he would burn the old woman. Mercy pulled back and reached up to dry her eyes.

“You’re old.” She laughed. “When did you become so old?”

The Hag chuckled warmly. “A long time ago. I have been old since the day I was born.”

“I don’t remember you old. You were stunning and powerful.”

The Hag winked. “I’m still both.”

Tiny lumbered towards them, shaking the ground. Mercy was thrilled that she could actually feel the ground move. The messages in the flames had never been so vivid. Ignes couldn’t capture the true power of these creatures.

Her skin tingled just being around them.

“Mercy,” Tiny chuckled, “perhaps we should allow Ignes free reign?”

“I’m not sure you really want to do that.”

“Oh, we do.” He extended a new broom for Ignes to hop onto. “We’ve prepared something special for him.”

Mercy held Ignes up and felt no sense of loss when he willingly left her. She trusted these people. She had known all of them since they were very young.

“You knew we were coming?” Mercy asked.

The Centaur nodded. “The Korrigan told us.”

Mercy was stunned. “When did that species of Fae start living here?”

A sniffing sound was her answer.

Mercy spun on her heel, wishing she hadn’t let Ignes go. The crackling on the broom grew louder, but her defensive flames didn't ignite. Flames should have burst around her like a shield. But without Ignes, she was weak.

Behind her stood an incredibly short man. Wrinkled and balding, with a smile that split his cheeks too wide, he was not very intimidating. But she recognized the way his eyes saw through her. He looked into her soul and found her unimpressive. A Korrigan was never to be taken lightly.

They were technically a species of Gnome, which were a subspecies of Fae. But the Korrigan had made such a name for themselves that they were separated from the others. Namely because they could see the future.

“You aren’t part Oracle?” she questioned. Oracles were known to lie and call themselves Fae. The Fae protected each other, Oracles had no such support.

“Never ask a Fae to lie,” the little man replied.

She didn’t trust him. Not like the others. But she would admit that he was powerful. Magic made the hair on her arms stand up straight. Mercy nodded at him. “All right. You saw us coming?”

“I saw fire,” he told her, and sniffed again. “It wasn’t hard to guess who that might be.”

If he had seen flames in his visions, Mercy was the logical conclusion. But he may not have interpreted her approach as a positive. Flames could be both welcoming and destructive.

From the way he stared, Mercy assumed he had come to the same conclusion.

“I mean no harm,” she told him.

“I suppose you don’t. But then again, neither does a knife.”

He wandered past her and waddled deeper into the many tents. A few times, he stopped, hitched up his pants, and continued walking. Mercy wondered why no one had gotten the poor man clothing that fit.

But that wasn’t for her to worry about. He wasn’t for her to worry about; she had enough of her own problems.

Tiny and the other familiar faces were staring at her. Concern wrinkled their brows. Grumbling, Mercy gestured with her hand.

“What did you prepare for him?”

A small smile spread across Tiny’s face. “We emptied out an old well. We thought you two might like to fill it with a little lava.”

Ignes grew so excited that his flames burned even Mercy’s eyes.

She laughed with real joy. “We can certainly do that. He would love it!”

She walked with the others towards the well, but stopped when Jasper groaned. Mercy looked back at him. He had rolled onto his side, facing the forest they had come from.

Rolling