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

on itself until E was once more the swirling vortex. “You have traveled very far, powerful one, to learn a very simple lesson. You are in everything. Just as everything is in you.”

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, her heart stopped beating. Everything suddenly clicked into place. Of course this was what she had been looking for. She wanted to make sure Wren was all right, but she didn’t need to apologize. The life she had saved wasn’t greater in worth than the others she had lost.

What had to be, had to be.

“Thank you, E.”

“You are most welcome.”

Lydia licked her lips, hesitating. “Do… Do you recognize me? It’s a strange question, I know, it’s just that was the perfect answer when I didn’t know how I was feeling. How did you?”

The swirls paused, a face stretching through the darkness. It was made mostly of leaves, the spiking edges framing an eerily familiar expression of mirth. “I recognize the taste of old magic. Long ago, you and I had many a conversation I cherish to this day.”

“Green Man,” she whispered. “The oak trees mourned your death for centuries.”

“They sang the old songs then?”

“The mountains trembled, and the earth shook when they raised their voices for you.”

The ancient Ent nodded sagely. “Then it was a good death.”

The dream shook, their bubble of safety shifting as another person joined them. E frowned and turned, but seemed to shrug when it saw Burke materialize next to Wren.

“They are happy,” E spoke with the voice of thousands again. “Despite all they have been through, they are happy.”

She blinked through tears. Burke walked down the dock of Wren’s made up bridge. He smoothed a hand over her shoulder, leaning down to whisper something in her ear. Wren tossed her head back in laughter while sunlight caressed her face.

They were the picture of happiness. No worries marred their relationship, no stress that they could not disappear from. Somehow, some way, it didn’t matter that Lydia had messed up.

She sighed. “I suppose that’s all I was really looking for.”

“I’m glad you found what you came for. Now I will ask you to leave.”

“Really?”

“If you can leave. I’m uncertain how to advise you to go back. I have many Dream Walkers inside of me, but I have never seen a dream be destroyed before.”

Lydia shrugged, a soft smile curving her lips. “I think I’ll be all right. Thank you, again. It was lovely to meet you, E.”

“The pleasure was all mine.”

She watched E turn and float toward the couple. Burke settled on the dock next to Wren and rolled his pant legs up to dip in the water. Funny, a flash of Time whispered in her mind that there might be fish which would bite him in those waters.

This was happiness. Even though the guilt of hundreds of deaths that would happen rode on her shoulders, they were happy. That had to count for something.

She walked out of the dream and stepped carefully onto her own. The molten bridge shimmered beneath her feet. It stretched and warped into a bubble once more. In the center, she smiled and lifted her arms to the violet sky.

It was time to wake up.

The front door slammed so hard the walls shook. Lydia jumped to her feet, eyes still foggy from blindness.

“Pitch?” she called.

A barrage of curses was her answer although the voice was distinctly familiar. Apparently, something had happened while Pitch was visiting their prophetic chosen. He had felt something was off, to the point where he asked her walk down the future to make sure.

She didn’t like telling him everything. He was worrying too much, not eating, having difficulties paying attention, faking sleep until he thought she drifted off and then rising to pace. Lydia was concerned he would fall ill.

He couldn’t fall ill.

Hands on the walls as guidance, Lydia wandered. Her steps were measured and calm. That was how she always had to be around him. Measured and calm.

It was extremely difficult sometimes to be the light to his dark. Especially when she wanted to fall apart, but he was already there. Pitch was fracturing before her eyes.

Case in point, she could see the darkness of his power billowing around him like a great cloak made of the night sky. He hopped on one foot to the piano, cursing so viciously that she wasn’t certain she even understood some of the words.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Does it look like I’m all right?”

“No need to growl.”

“It’s my house! I’ll growl if I want to.”

She huffed, making her way to his side by grabbing into furniture. “Now that’s funny, I thought you said it was my house. Which means I can also tell you to not growl.”

The piano groaned as he jerked himself on top of it. The keys rang loud in angry dissonance. “You are going to be the death of me woman.”

“I don’t think I was the reason you were cursing.”

“No, but all women are going to be the death of me.”

Lydia could hear a dripping sound. Her brow furrowed as she stared hard, trying to bring him into focus. Was that black splashed across his foot? Why were his feet bare to begin with?

“Pitch,” she began. “Are you bleeding?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“I tried to do a nice thing for someone, and this is what I get. Why do I even try with these people anymore? They are bound and determined to not trust me. Even the creatures I created don’t believe that I’m assisting them. And then when I try to help, all I get in response is a Siren trying to kill me, and broken glass in my foot!”

So he had visited Lyra then. The Siren had a hot temper, and she wasn’t surprised that there had been a skirmish. It was high praise that Lyra had harmed Pitch. Few people could add that accolade to their accomplishments.

Lydia smiled. “Ah. So you are bitter because you were beaten by a girl.”

“No,” he grumbled. “I’m bitter because she had to hit me