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

“Are you blaming me?” Lydia wanted to shout at him. She wanted to scratch at his eyes until he felt what she was going through. “I’m doing everything I can, you selfish jackass! I am completely blind after that little trick, and all to save your little creation. The right words are ‘thank you’ and ‘are you all right’!”

She heard the distinct snap of teeth. “There is more at stake here than one woman I feel a connection to.”

Lydia didn’t know if he was speaking of herself or of Wren. It didn’t matter. He had no right to dictate what the future would be. That was her job.

She lifted a hand and scrubbed at the sticky blood coating her face. “I had to choose. It was save her and save the world. Or let him have her and save hundreds. There was no right choice. Be thankful I saved someone you have an affinity for.”

He must have heard the bitterness in her voice. Pitch knelt behind her and helped her sit up. Warm skin trailed down the silk nightgown she wore.

He was counting the bumps of her spine. She heard him whispering the numbers as he went, forcing himself to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was out of line.”

“Yes you were.”

“Do you accept my apology?”

“No.” One of her antlers caught him on the cheek when she shook her head. “No, I don’t forgive you for choosing someone else over me. But that is our world, isn’t it? Even in the end, though I don’t know what that end looks like, we may need to choose other people over each other.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought of it. We were created to save this world. What use are we afterwards? This all ends and I don’t know if we survive it.”

“We will,” he slid his arms underneath her shoulder and legs. Standing, he muttered, “I will make sure of it.”

She let her head fall against his shoulder and twisted her fingers together. “I don’t think it’s our choice, Pitch.”

Chapter 15

Lydia’s mind weighed heavy with guilt, even after Pitch reported back and said they had found Wren. She was injured, but she would live. Jiminy had changed his apartment within the Five’s compound to create a home for the two of them.

Things were moving along well in their plans. The prophecy was becoming common knowledge, and Wren’s team was looking for the next person.

A thought which worried her.

Lydia’s nails were bitten clean down to the quick, and she spent much of her time speeding through the threads of Time as she tried to figure out the ending. There were too many opportunities for change and there was no clear ending to this story.

The night was clear, cloudless and sparkling with blinking stars. Cold air swirled around her. Not yet cold enough for snow, but near as it would get without flurries. The summer had passed them.

She dreaded the winter months. The nights were long which meant she would sleep more than she did now. Her dreams were once more dark. She could find no peace. No escape from the necessity of her life.

Save the world. Save the people. Don’t let deaths weigh upon your soul.

But they did. She woke in the night with her skin slicked from sweat and the howls of lost souls ringing in her ears. Eating became a chore. Everything she put in her mouth made her want to vomit, even the plainest of foods.

The roof of Pitch’s home soothed her wandering mind. The breeze listened to her whispered worries and dashed them against the ground. The stars told her jokes that made her smile and laugh. The house itself was a firm foundation that would support her.

Strange that she found a best friend in a house, but nothing had made sense lately. Pitch had changed much of how she viewed the world. A house was not just an object, the sky had a voice, and dreams became real.

“Dreams,” she whispered to the wind. “Perhaps that’s how I can help.”

Jiminy was a Dream Walker. It stood to reason he might fill Wren’s sleeping mind with magically enhanced experiences. If she could walk into that dream, then maybe she could speak with them. Explain herself. Explain her choices.

Logic fled from her mind. If she had taken a moment to ponder the safety of such an act, she would have hesitated. The Dream World was a dangerous place to those who did not know how to walk the path.

It had to be similar to the strands of Time. Perhaps it would be familiar to the power inside of her that she still held at bay.

Lydia laid down on the roof, settled her body into a comfortable position, and dived into her mind.

The Dream World was not unlike a bubble. Scenes were projected on the walls all around her, suggesting there was a never ending vastness to her mind’s world. But there was a limit to a dream.

The blank space would not help her find the seam, so she conjured up a beach. Ever since Pitch had described his Bliss experience, Lydia dreamed his words. She walked through the tossing ocean waves, foam tangling in the long length of her white nightgown.

Half awake, she could sense the control she had over the landscape. Her fingertips tingled and the desire to play was addicting. She could create a sea dragon in that surf. She could disappear beneath the waves with it to tangle her hair in seaweed.

Such distractions were a nuisance.

Lydia stretched out her hands, walking forward with purpose until she could feel the edge of the dream. It was far closer than she had expected.

“Small blessings,” she murmured. “Now, to get out.”

This was where her vast knowledge ended. In Time, she would simply push. Or attempt to push with her mind. The threads were like rivers. They wanted to sweep her away, to show her all the secrets they carried.

Dreams were not like that. They