Black Blood (Series of Blood Book 4) by Emma Hamm (scary books to read .TXT) 📕

the reason why this entire world was reduced to ash.

Lydia glanced over her shoulder, unseeing eyes soaking in the absence of his body. His magic was unlike Pitch’s. She had expected it to be dark, but it was so much more than that. Malachi’s magic was nothing. It was a blank space where there should have been something.

Perhaps it was symbolic of his life. He would always lack power, family, love, knowledge, everything that made life worthwhile.

“We haven’t,” she replied. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“I hadn’t realized the sound of my voice was so recognizable.”

“I watched you walk up the stairs.” It was a stab in the dark. Lydia had to get control over the situation, though, and it was the only response he might believe.

Uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

“My apologies.” He stepped up to the railing and curled his fingers over the edge. “I was unaware you could see.”

“My eyes are unusual,” she agreed, trying to keep the relief from her voice. “It is a mistake many have made. There is no reason to apologize.”

“It is bad form of me to sneak up on a woman in any case.”

“One does wonder why you thought to sneak up on me at all.”

“I always sneak up on sad looking women overlooking clubs as though they are a queen.”

Lydia’s pale cheeks burned. “Sad?”

“Tragic.”

Now she understood why so many people would bow to him. He was charming. Malachi had a way with words which made him seem kind, caring almost, although she heard the darkness laced through every word. She needed to step carefully.

Pitch had not thought she would get this close to such a dangerous man.

“What brings you here, Malachi?”

“An invitation.”

He held it out before them, his long fingers graceful against the heavy stock of the card. Enchantments burned the edges with sinister red. Pitch had cursed it.

“You see what I see then?” Malachi asked. “You can see much with your blind eyes.”

“I find it easier to see without eyes.”

“Philosophical for such a child.”

“Child?”

She felt the lightest touch against the back of her neck and swallowed hard. The threat was made so easily that many would not not have noticed. They both continued to stare out over the crowd.

“Soothsayer, I have use for you.”

“I am no Soothsayer, nor Oracle.”

“I know the look of one who can see into the future. I have swallowed many souls in my time, more than you have ever seen little girl. Don’t forget that.”

“What do you want from me?”

Her heart was pounding in her ears. Her knees trembled, held steady only by the tight shadows which wrapped around her skin. Why wouldn’t Pitch look at her? He was speaking with Wren, drawing her into the crowd in an intimate embrace.

Malachi’s hand tightened around her neck. “I want to know my future. Why else would I ask?”

“I cannot see your future.”

“You’re lying,” he said in a sing song voice.

“There are too many possibilities for your ending. You may make the right choice, or the wrong one. All endings are so varied that there is no possible way for me to tell you what to do.”

“How about something much sooner than that?”

She swallowed. “What do you want to know?”

“There is a prophecy swirling around. Lies, likely. But I want to know whether or not it’s true that if four people band together that I will be stopped.”

Lydia stopped breathing. It had worked. Their lie had worked just as Pitch had planned. Malachi believed every word, she could hear it in the dipping tones of his voice.

“Yes,” she finally stuttered. “Yes it is true.”

Even he could not hear the lie on her tongue. In truth, Lydia wasn’t certain it was a lie anymore. The prophecy vibrated in her throat long after she stopped speaking. It would come to pass.

She would make it come true.

“That is disappointing. Now tell me where I can find one of these prophetic people.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t make the prophecy?” Lydia winced. She didn’t sound believable at all.

He was a perceptive man, and he read between the spaces of her words. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against her ear. “Just who are you?”

“I am no one.”

“You are most certainly someone.”

“Anyone with true power knows that they are no one. I am part of a larger whole, the connection between space and time. But you will forget all of that.”

“Will I?” He laughed.

The words rang in her ears like church bells. They crashed, echoed, and roared until all she could hear was “You will forget.”

Power burned her fingertips. It glowed from within her chest and oozed out of her mouth in black sticky strands. Light and dark, good and evil, pulsed from within her being as she reached out to touch him.

“You will forget.”

She found purchase on his shoulder. She gripped his skin, digging her nails into the soft flesh. Black ichor poisoned his blood while the light glowing from her eyes illuminated his face so clearly she could see him.

She could see him.

Malachi was beautiful. Like Pitch, he had been carved out of marble. Of dubious race and flawlessly crafted, she thought him to be pretty, not handsome. His long black hair was tied back from his head in a swinging braid. His eyes, so dark she could tumble into them, reflected fear into her burning gaze.

“You will forget me, but not your purpose.” Her voice was a lightning crack and the gong of rolling thunder. Black shadows twisted around her tongue, sinking barbed wire edges into her lips until she bled. “I take your memory but not your mind, Void. I do not exist for you any longer.”

She released her punishing grip, letting him stumble back in panic until his gaze cleared. His eyes passed over her, his brow furrowed as though he knew something should be there, but he did not linger. Malachi walked down the steps and back into the mass of teeming people.

The rush of power had left her weak. Her knees resumed their quaking, her lips trembled, her