Silver Blood (Series of Blood Book 1) by Emma Hamm (bill gates book recommendations .TXT) 📕

of his cheeks as he desperately tried to follow her in any way he could.

CHAPTER 9

Her life seemed to be happening in cycles. As she stepped onto the portal, Wren realized that her life was entirely out of her control. Her body seemed to dissolve as she had felt so many times before in dreams. But this time it was different. This time, she disappeared entirely.

The feeling was slightly calming. Suddenly she didn’t have to worry about filling in for a prophecy. She hadn’t been ripped out of her life. And she certainly wasn’t having issues with the magical creature inside her head.

Not existing was…. well, it was a little bit better than existing in the troubled world that she was now living in. But relief can only last for so long, at least in Wren’s experience.

Her body formed back into itself, and she became herself in a different place entirely. She hadn’t been through a portal since she was very little, but Wren remembered very clearly the disoriented feeling that she was experiencing. A body wanted to remain in one place, not be surprised and jerked into another.

Along the way, she had lost her shoes. Sometimes that happened through portals. It was so easy to lose things while one’s body was no longer part of itself. Wren counted herself lucky that she still had all of her fingers.

She hated portals with a passion.

The bottoms of her feet grew cold as they touched the cold stone beneath her. The dim light made it difficult for her to notice details about where she was. A witchlight glowed in the corner, and it appeared that there were bars in front of her.

She stepped forward. The light sound of padding feet was the only noise she could hear in the darkness. Her fingers traced the bars that felt cold against her palms. The tingling sensation meant these were likely iron. Whomever had caught her wanted her to remain exactly where they wanted her.

Her eyes flicked up to see whether there were any cracks along the wall. Unfortunately, the bars were anchored inside the stone itself. Her back was to a shallow cave where jagged edges of rough stone jutted towards her. There was no other way to escape this place.

“Shit,” she muttered.

Immediately upon her words, a clinking sound could be heard from farther back in the cave. She narrowed her eyes to attempt and catch a glimpse of whatever was moving.

She needn’t have tried. Like whips, chains snaked out of the back of the cave. Manacles were attached to the ends that wavered in front of her as though they were cobras. Her eyes followed the movement as she froze in place.

The question was raised in her mind, should she move or should she stay where she was? The enchanted bindings were likely to follow if she moved. But if she was fast enough, she might be able to move outside of their reach. The chains had to be short to keep people near the back of the cave.

There wasn’t really a choice to what she had to do next. Her muscles bunched, and she leaped away from the chains that laid in wait for her.

Movement was clearly what they had been waiting for. A cracking sound was followed by a blinding pain in her wrists. Wren was brought up short as the chains yanked her arms backwards.

Cold metal wrapped around her wrists. They were not overly tight but had hit against her bones hard enough to make her flesh swell. She dropped to her knees as air hissed out of her mouth.

Wren had never been very good at handling pain. E had always had to step in and take the brunt of the memories. It was precisely why she had never created any Juice for Pain or Agony. She simply could not do it.

“E,” she whispered as she cradled her aching wrists against her chest, “where are we?”

Wren waited for the voice in her head that had always provided comfort. That voice did not speak. She felt only a small bit of stirring at the back of her head. In that moment, she understood why E’s true form was black smoke.

She could feel it churning in the back of her head. Great billows of smoke curled throughout the channels of her mind until she could smell the acrid scent of burning wood.

“It is dangerous to be here.”

“I kind of guessed that,” she grumbled.

“Wren, where have you taken us?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you.” Her heart rate sped up. She had never heard E sound frightened before.

“This place tastes of death.”

“You can’t taste anything.” She could at least attempt some kind of humor.

“So many creatures have died here.” Wren’s head vibrated as E moaned. Thousands of voices in her head echoed the sound. “Too many to absorb but too many to leave.”

“What are you going on about?” Wren asked. “You’re not making any sense.”

The creature inside of her appeared unable to respond. She could still hear the various voices in her head, some moaning and some muttering words she did not understand. Her aching wrists pressed harder against her ribs as she tried to resist clutching her head in her aching hands.

Now she understood why madness was an unavoidable circumstance.

Her shaking hands rose to her head. Even though her fingers were limp, she pressed the swelling flesh against her temples to try and stop herself from hearing the voices. They rose in a crescendo until she couldn’t hear anything but the babbling noise of thousands of voices shouting inside of her skull.

Bright sparks of color pricked at the edges of her vision as her breathing rapidly increased. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t hear. She could do nothing other than squeeze the prison that was her skull as she shivered on the cold stone floor.

The sweet scent of herbs curled into her nose and coiled inside of her skull. The smoke she inhaled banished the screams in a split