Blue Blood (Series of Blood Book 3) by Emma Hamm (books to read this summer .txt) 📕

slowly turned to lava. It dripped upon the wooden podium and hissed as it burned through. Her skin turned to black tar, and golden scrollwork appeared over her body like tribal tattoos. The marks of a Phoenix, not a human.

Jasper was forced behind the statue again as more flames rode the waves of her power. To his left, a building crumbled to ash. Groaning booms echoed around them as more buildings fell. What remained of the stone soldier, turned to ash and rained down upon him in shards of stone.

“She is destroying the city,” he muttered to himself.

“We have to get to her,” Bluebell told him.

“I know. I know. I’m working on it.”

“We have to get to her now.”

“Yes, I know, Bluebell—”

“No time for thinking. Just do what she would do!”

He thumped his head against the statue. Mercy would do something rash. She would run directly towards the danger and wouldn’t care about the consequences. But that wasn’t something he could do. He’d burn to a crisp long before he reached her.

A different voice whispered in his ear. Jasper looked around but there was no one alive in view. It had sounded helpful, though he couldn’t make out the words. He pressed his forehead against the stone and closed his eyes, listening.

There it was, a whisper that sounded like the first drop of water after a drought. It cooled his body and stilled his mind. He saw a white light. It felt as though someone passed a cool, comforting hand over his forehead.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I am your shield. Go to her, and I will hold the magic at bay.”

He did not know who the voice was, but, in that moment, he was certain he had just been blessed. Jasper didn’t know of any gods other than the five, yet this touch had been from a goddess. Certainly, it was a goddess.

As though in a trance, he stood. Mercy’s magic paused for only a moment, and he rounded the stone statue as a man going into battle.

He had told Lyra he would willingly walk into the fire for Mercy. He already had. Loving her was like standing in the center of a bonfire and reaching for something impossible.

The long tails of her blindfold lashed at her torso and left bright blue streaks of blood in their wake. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, the tails of fabric sopping up the blood streaming from her lips. Her magic rose in a great wave of fire again.

He raised an arm to cover his eyes and walked towards her. It struck him like a blow. His feet skidded on the dirt as he was forced backwards. But the fire did not burn him. Not yet.

He forced each step. Whenever he made progress, she forced him backwards. But he reached the podium with cool, white light guiding him.

Then he was close enough for the heat to break through his shield. The skin on his forearm peeled back and ragged pain made him grit his teeth. But he would not falter.

Up the steps, he went. The wood groaned under his weight, and he thought it might collapse. Somehow, it held.

Now, he stood before her. This creature of unimaginable power that had bent to his will only once in an enchanted forest, on a bed of moss.

“Mercy,” he muttered as he reached for her. His hands clasped upon her waist and pulled her down towards him. “Mercy, my love. This ends here.”

She did not respond. Her neck stretched as she stared at the sky, and her lashing hair flayed his raw skin.

He raised his hand to tunnel through those beloved red strands. Like blood, they flowed through his fingers. His brow furrowed as remorse twisted his gut.

“What has he done to you?” he asked.

More energy twisted around them, and this time it felt different. Her power had always tasted like ashes, neither good nor evil, simply necessary. But this power tasted black. Darkness was starting to seep out of her pores.

The voice that he did not recognize spoke in one of the lulls. “Even a Phoenix can only do so many dark things before turning dark itself.”

“She’s killing everyone, isn’t she?” Jasper knew the answer already.

“She is,” the voice that sounded like bells answered. “But it is not too late for her yet. Wake her up, Jasper. And when she is ready, bring her to me.”

“But who are you?”

The voice was gone. And his eyes widened as he felt the white magic, which had protected him, disappear as well.

He raised his hands and swept the blindfold off her head. His breath caught as he stared into the gaping holes where her sunset eyes had once been.

All around them the sky turned blood red. Streaks of the last lingering light of the sun caught upon her hair and skin. Black tar, gilded gold, and red hair made her otherworldly and dangerous. She was never meant to be like this.

Jasper was shaking when he stroked her forehead. “My love, come back to me.”

He could feel the wave of her magic growing again. She was going to destroy more things, but worst of all, herself. This was something he could not let her do.

“Mercy.” Jasper did not know if he was calling her name or begging that unknown deity for her help once more. “You do not deserve a leash. You are not a monster. Now, please, remember me.”

His lips found hers in a desperate attempt to bring her back to awareness. She did not respond. Panic stole his breath, and his arms tightened around her waist. If this was where he died, then so be it. He would die with her in his arms as a warrior should.

“Jasper,” she whispered his name into his lips and released the last bit of fire inside of her.

The heat stroked his skin in a lover’s caress and did not burn. He heard the sound of falling buildings and the end of the world. But Mercy was alive. Her