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

She reached out to take his hands in hers. She tilted both at the wrists until she was staring down at his palms. “They hold as much as mine.”

A wry grin spread across his face. “An odd couple we are then. Come, there is food growing cold.”

“You actually got me food?”

“I said I did.”

“I thought you were just saying that to get me down here!”

He rolled his eyes and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. They walked as they always did towards the dining chamber. Only this time, they stood a little closer than before.

Chapter 9

The tunnel to Wolfgang’s home was completely barren once more. There were no Troll children running underfoot. There were no Dwarven women with beards that tickled the ground. Although Lyra had found these sights odd the first moments she had seen them, she now found she missed them.

There was something particularly satisfying about knowing without a doubt she was the prettiest woman in the room. She was well aware how absolutely horrid that sounded. She never would have given the thought a life by speaking it aloud. Yet the Siren inside of her was pleased when these people were around.

Sure, they were probably more attractive inside than Lyra would ever manage to be. But she was a Siren. She was supposed to be pretty but selfish, flighty, and annoying. She fit into her box very well.

Her heels sank into the dirt floor. She didn’t know why she tried so hard when she came to see Wolfgang. He was always covered up in some kind of robe, and she was always dressed to perfection. She didn’t know if she’d even seen what he looked like underneath all that shapeless fabric.

Unless one counted the vision he had given her of his soul.

She had made a habit of visiting him whenever she could sneak away. The Five were still hounding her to bring them a person fulfilling the prophecy, but she found she simply couldn’t. There was something inside her that said not yet. Wait. Breathe. Enjoy him.

Malachi had been strangely silent, and that meant that Lyra could be silent as well. Every time she traveled down the grave into this place, she found more magic. Wolfgang had become a symbol of comfort to her.

He was different now. She realized he had a volatile personality with everyone but her. She had seen him kick a small Goblin away from him without thinking. She had seen him scream at a Hag over and over again for a very small mistake. She had seen him nearly choke a Banshee to death for bumping into Lyra.

Yet, every time she asked him to stop, he had. There was a darker side to him she didn’t think she would ever be able to understand. She had noticed a habit to it. The farther she was away from him or the longer she left him alone, the more likely she was to see some kind of slip.

Lyra tried not to consider how odd that truly was. He didn’t make any sense to her. But if her presence meant that he was a kinder person, then she would be here more. He liked her company anyways.

Every time she visited he would show her something more spectacular than the last time. One was a giant room stacked high with books that would play stories on the ceiling when she opened them. Another, a nursery full of Elfen children with tiny pointed ears. A hidden underground hot spring where the Selkie mothers with their long whiskers took their children to bathe.

She wished today would be like those visits. But there was a purpose now she had to fulfil, and it was not one she was pleased to be doing. Lyra had always known the Five would eventually push hard enough where she would have no choice but to push once more.

The door to his study was firmly shut. Outside the barrier stood Mungus. The ever faithful skeleton was leaning against the wall with his head slightly tilted to the side. If he had eyes, he may have been sleeping.

“Charlie?” Lyra asked quietly.

The skeleton startled. His limbs raised in an odd combination of awkward movements and flying bones.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she quickly said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I need to see Wolfgang.”

Mungus shook his head.

“Charlie.”

Again he shook his head.

Odd, usually her stern voice could do the trick. “Mungus.”

Slowly, the skeleton lowered his head and stepped aside. It didn’t bode well. The last time Wolfgang had set his guard up was when he had been dissecting a particularly nasty kind of insect that had been affected by magic so much it had grown to the size of a watermelon.

Lyra didn’t want to think about that awful memory.

She pushed aside the door as though she owned the place. In a strange way, she felt as though she did. Lyra had become part of this underground world in such a short time. She knew the passages as well as Haven and knew the people enough to remember their children’s names. Time seemed to pass here at a different rate than in the real world.

Wolfgang stood with his back towards her. His hands were braced against his worn table, and most of his chaotic mess had been cleaned. She was startled to see the wood grain in front of him. Lyra had been convinced that the table didn’t exist at all and that it was merely a creation of so many papers piled up.

“There you are.” She closed the door behind her. “I was hoping I would find you.”

“Not now, Lyra.”

His raspy voice always made her shiver. She had decided it wasn’t a smoker’s voice. Nor was it due to some kind of past injury. It was the rumbling sound of magic that ebbed and flowed inside his entire being.

She blinked. Had he just dismissed her? That was a first. It also made