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

had very little to threaten a Hellhound with, but she would always remember the pain he had caused her.

“That was foolish,” Ella whispered. “You should never make deals with devils.”

“He is not a devil; he is a man and nothing more.”

“You have not seen what he is capable of.”

“And you have?” Jasper turned on his heel. “I made the choice I had to make. I need to get home.”

“Malachi is not a man to trifle with. He knows more than any other creature on this planet, and I don’t know how. He can reach inside of us and read all our memories and thoughts. He doesn’t even have to kill us to do it!”

She stood up like an old woman, pained and stiff. This was the first time Jasper had seen her move in a way that was not graceful. Her arms were held akimbo and her shaking thighs made him realize just how much distress she was in.

Without thinking to, he stepped forward a few paces. “It’s the only chance for me to help both of us.”

“I don’t care if you get me out of here!”

Her shout echoed in the long hall. In response, a low rumble of laughter curled through the darkness like a serpent. Malachi had been listening after all.

Jasper lowered his voice. “I will return for you.”

“Do you think that’s what I’m angry about?” Ella asked while wildly gesturing with her arms. “I have no delusions of ever leaving this place. The darkness will swallow me whole and tear me asunder. I know this. Do you?”

“No. I will get out of here. I will find my family again if I have to die trying.”

“You will,” she muttered as she turned away. “You will die trying.”

He had no response to her angry words. In truth, Jasper knew she was correct. He was probably going to perish helping the man he hated more than anyone or anything else in the world. But he had to try.

This was the best plan he could come up with. Lie with the devil and hope that he could sneak away in the middle of the night.

Heat.

It was the beginning and the end of all life. Without the warmth of the sun, nothing would exist upon this planet. Without the flame, humans would not exist as they did today.

Fire was originally thought of as a gift from the gods. It was handed down by a heavenly host who personally delivered man’s salvation. Humans were first awed by the flickering light.

Fire chased away the darkness. It dispelled nightmares. It cooked food, protected weak bodies from harmful creatures, and quelled the biting cold. It gave life.

Until its chains were broken, and it was unleashed upon the world.

Fire was not a savior. It was not a protector. It was a captive, which was capable of great destruction and great pain.

With the smallest of breaths, it could consume an entire forest. It was not choosy, for it would feast upon everything in its path. Man, woman, child, nature. All that stood in its way would feel agony.

And once the fire had died out, nothing was left in its wake but silence and ash. From the destruction a small flicker would come. Not a spark nor a coal. But new life.

For fire was not just a life saver and a life taker, it was also a life giver.

Fire even made dreams dangerous. A dream could be both good and bad, it was a place to experience new things or remember old. However, they were not meant to be a prison.

This specific Dream World, this place of fire and ruin and new life, was host to a single soul. There was no Dream Walker who could enter this dream. The bubble, which was usually malleable for Dream Walkers, was made of iron. No one could find her. She was alone.

Within the dream, a single woman lay in a field of ashes, staring up at the gray sky. Tiny white flakes floated above her like snow. But she knew it was not snow, such cold relief did not exist here.

This was the beginning.

The time before time when everything was still and calm. It was her favorite time. There was nothing alive here but her; there never was. Only now was there true nothingness.

She let the breath she had been holding escape her lips. With that smallest movement, the world began to grow again. Tiny green sprouts wiggled between her fingertips. Fuzzy and soft, they would stretch to great heights.

First the ashes would need to clear and the clouds would have to release their rain. The sun always came out after the downpour. A canopy of trees would eventually curl over her head and obscure the sun.

The pattern was always the same. Grow, development, life; fire, burning, silence.

She closed her eyes and wished she didn’t live in a dream. She wished for the millionth time that she could close her eyes and sleep. But she couldn’t do that, this was her prison. This was her pain.

“Mercy.”

The crackling voice was familiar and beloved, but she did not want to hear it.

“Go away,” she muttered. “Let me be. Please, let me enjoy it for just a few seconds more.”

Oh how she longed to enjoy it. If Mercy opened her eyes, she would see a world that was filled with life.

The ground underneath her would be emerald green, the grass soft against her bare feet. It would stretch as far as her eyes could see and sparkle with morning dew.

Far away, she would see the faint outlines of dream deer as they leaned down to taste the glistening grass. They wouldn’t mind that she was watching them. They would ignore her because she was not important compared to the green tasting blades.

Behind them would stand a forest, with trees so tall that three people could not reach around the harsh bark and link their hands together. At the tops, great birds would stretch their wings and fly into the sky.

All this grew in the