Red Blood (Series of Blood Book 2) by Emma Hamm (best short books to read .TXT) 📕

into Wolfgang’s eyes and knew he wanted her to. She had learned to trust this strange mismatched man.

Slowly, she nodded. “Alright.”

He guided them to the edge of the pool and lifted her to the edge. “Go on.”

The tarot cards were next to his book. The black edges fluttered as though they knew she was near. Lyra looked back at Wolfgang. “My hands are wet.”

“They won’t mind.”

She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and reached her hand for them. Immediately, one card shot out before all the others. The dark back stared her down as she gently grasped the edge. Flipping it over, she stared down at the image.

“What is it?” Wolfgang asked.

“The Star,” she whispered then held it up for his inspection. “What does it mean?”

He smiled at her. “Hope.”

“Hope,” she repeated as a soft smile spread across her lips. “Thank you.”

A rattling sound made both of them jump. Mungus stumbled into the room with his hand cupped around his ribs. Lyra burst into jubilant laughter as she saw the fireflies he held caged. They zipped through and around him, although they appeared to allow him to catch them and put them back in his makeshift jar.

Lyra shook her head and stood. “Charlie, stop it! Your ribs have spaces. They’re getting out!”

She chased after the skeleton who immediately began to shuffle away from her. He hunched over as though he held the dearest of prizes and shook his head as she backed him into a corner.

Wolfgang laughed at their antics.

“One of these days you’re going to give him a voice!” Lyra shouted.

She had asked him enough times, and he wanted her to be happy. Ancient words were whispered under his breath as he waved a hand towards his skeleton.

Mungus jumped and clutched at his throat before a surprisingly manly voice squawked, “What?”

“Charlie!” Lyra shouted with glee.

“Oh no.” The skeleton shook his finger at her. “Just because I can talk does not mean you get to chatter away!”

“Yes it does!”

Wolfgang shook his head and pulled himself back onto the bank. He tugged his shirt back over his head, fully planning on attempting to read, when he noticed the cards vibrate.

Quickly, he checked to make certain Lyra was still occupied with his errant dead man. Comforted that neither was looking in his direction, Wolfgang held his hands above the cards. The top one shot up to stick to his palm.

Nervous, he turned it over.

Justice stared back at him.

“Oh, I fully intend on it,” he murmured as he placed the card back on top. “We will bide our time. Malachi will fall.”

Epilogue

Plumed birds sang as the sun rose over the edge of the earth. Pink tinged the air, and they called towards it. They loved color. Their feathers changed with their emotions, and today they were the brightest purple.

The song was unlike any song ever sung. The birds spoke in the voices of humans and whispered words of love. Their tails stretched towards the ground and their wings towards the heavens.

The smallest of birds hopped next to them. It was a plain little bird, but its beak was impossibly sharp. It wanted to sing but was incapable of singing like the others. So it remained silent and enjoyed the beauty of others.

A tremor shook the trees. Some of the birds went silent, others remained singing. And so the silent ones were encouraged to sing again. The tremor did not rock the earth again. So they continued in their songs of love.

The little bird was not so easily fooled. It cocked its tiny head and followed the jagged edge of magic, which had caused the tremor. Although magic had not gifted this bird with beauty, it was much smarter than the others.

Opening its plain, dull wings, it drifted through the air. It followed the line of magic to a nearly impenetrable wall of vines. No other creature could have fit through these thorned plants. But, as mentioned, this was a tiny and smart bird.

Slowly, it inched its way through the vines until it reached the opening. Inside the vines was the largest of trees. Larger than a building, the tree’s roots were exposed.

A sweet smell filled the air. Cloying, it tried to reach into the bird’s mind.

Sleep, it whispered. You wish to sleep.

But the bird did not wish to sleep. It wished to discover all the things that were being hidden from it. Intelligence came with a healthy dose of curiosity.

Once more, it spread its tiny wings and floated down to the roots where it had seen the most curious of colors. Red was not often in this forest.

Most creatures tended to be brown. Green. Sometimes beautiful and mimicking a sunset. But never red.

Red was easy to see. Predators liked things that were easy to see.

The bird landed on the roots and hopped sideways. Red again.

Strange. It cocked its head and tapped a tiny claw against the roots of the tree. Something was tangled in the fallen leaves and was hidden from prying eyes.

But the bird did not have hands. It had a beak, which was not particularly easy to use when one was trying to not disturb predators. So the bird left to find other curious minds who had hands.

It returned many days later with a mouse, a shrew, and a toad. All of these creatures had hands, so the bird was rather proud of itself. It hopped up the root again and waited for its new friends to follow.

Together, they uncovered the red thing that was so strange. Except the red thing was attached to many more things. So much red that was much larger than all of them put together.

They looked at each other in confusion but managed to clear just a little bit more of the leaves and dirt away from the red thing. What they revealed was even more confusing than before.

The prettiest of human faces lay still and tangled in the roots. Dirt smudged her nose and cheeks, but even they