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

the magic he controls is not an innate ability. He has learned to do what he can do without training. There are none like him left.”

“Then I’ll find that out later. But for now, it’s better if I talk with him because he trusts me.” The lies tasted bitter. She would return to him because she liked him. And damn E for turning her thoughts against the potential that he might return the feelings.

“You should be frightened of him, Lyra.”

She immediately laughed loudly. “Him? He’s the last person I need to be frightened of.”

E was scowling at her. Though she did not want to see it, she could see the furrows of worry on its brow. E was actually worried for her.

“We should all be very frightened of what a Magician can do.”

Lyra swallowed hard. She didn’t want to be frightened of him. He had created such beautiful creations in front of her. He had made her laugh. All he wanted to do was make her smile; he had said so himself.

But perhaps that was also just her desire to forget that he had raised a man from the dead simply to serve him. That he created soldiers out of mud and stolen souls. That he scarred his own flesh for the many spells he was capable of using.

A sudden shifting in the water sent the both of them lurching forward. Somehow they managed to keep their feet on the greenery that was slicked with swamp water. Both Lyra and E were out of breath as they caught their balance and searched for the cause of the waves.

Before their eyes, a house appeared. Not suddenly in a great rush of color and substance. The simple and quaint log cabin slowly appeared as sand in an hourglass slowly tumbles to the bottom.

Lyra had never seen anything like it before. This was the greatest show of illusion she had ever witnessed. And she had lived with Bones for many years.

A small brick chimney rose out of the top of wooden shingles. Curling puffs of smoke, which looked like cotton candy, drifted into the air that was not disturbed by wind. Stone steps rose out of the swamp water around them to provide a very clear and precise path to the house.

“Ah. This is what we were looking for,” E murmured.

“Or we’re about to be offered candy by a wicked witch.”

“Try to be positive, Lyra. Would you?”

“I only pretend to be good at that,” she muttered as she shifted the blade in her hand. There were a few more strapped to random places on her body, and she intended to use them if need be.

The last stone popped up in front of them. Water streamed off of the grey rock that appeared to dry instantly. This was dangerous path to tread.

Lyra refused to hesitate. She had not spent most of her life being brave to not be brave in this moment. One foot in front of the other was significantly easier than fighting a beast. Or dealing with Red Bloods whose loved ones had been lost in the battle between the Five and Malachi.

Her steps were sure and confident as she walked up to the house. E followed close at her heels, but both of them hesitated before the solid oak door. A swirling pattern of ivy was carved into its formidable form.

“Do we knock?” Lyra asked.

The door swung open without either of them lifting a hand.

E raised an eyebrow and looked over at her. “I suppose that is the answer to your question.”

Lyra wasn’t certain that was a good thing at all. Still, she was leading this foolish endeavor, which meant she had to put her feet to work once more. She stepped across the threshold and hoped she wasn’t about to meet a Minotaur.

Or worse.

The inside of the house was just as delicate looking as the outside. A single room was warmly lit by a stone fireplace, which held a cheery fire. Herbs hung from the ceiling and made the air smell sweetly of lavender and basil. A table with chairs around it held a large bowl of grapes and peaches. A small bed was settled into the corner of the room with a brightly colored patchwork quilt laid carefully across it.

Creaking next to the fireplace was a rocking chair inhabited by a middle aged woman. Silver strands laced through her black hair that was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck. Tendrils of hair fell in her face as she stared down at the knitting in her hands.

Lyra cleared her throat.

“Yes, we do know you are here.” The soft voice came from behind them.

E and Lyra turned quickly to see a stunningly beautiful young woman closing the door behind them. She was lithe and lean in her youth. Hair as fine as silk was loose around her shoulders in a cloud of darkness. In short, she was immediately disliked by Lyra’s Siren side.

“Maiden, I presume?” E said.

“Oh, because it’s so hard to tell?” Maiden smiled at them with a hard look in her eyes.

“Be good,” the Mother called from her knitting. “They have only just arrived.”

Maiden shrugged and moved towards her mother. Lyra realized that a black cat followed close at her heels. It stopped in front of the fire to delicately lick its paw and glare at the intruders.

“We have come to beg your assistance,” E began.

A thin voice wavered from beneath the covers in the bed. “We have no interest in speaking to you, Legion.”

The Crone slowly sat up. Her white hair was closely cropped to her head, and her body was painfully thin. Lyra did not believe the charade in the slightest. This woman radiated power. She was clearly capable of more than she wanted them to know.

“You wish to speak with me?” Lyra asked.

“Why yes. That is why you have come.”

“I have come to ask questions of you.”

“No.” Crone shook her head. “You have come because it was foretold.”

“I don’t believe in fate.”

“You