Blue Blood (Series of Blood Book 3)

by Emma Hamm

  “What are you?” He uttered the words as though they were poison on his tongue.

  She placed her hand on the floor and pushed herself up, wincing in pain. A trickle of blood ran from her mouth. She scooped a handful of fire from her torso and lifted it to her lips, holding his gaze as she opened her mouth and devoured the flames.

  Her eyes drifted shut. She was shaking; he could see that from where he stood. But now he was cautious. He had never heard of what she could do, had never seen a creature so powerful.

  “I am mercy,” she told him quietly. “I am the beginning and the end. I am flame and ruin.”

  “What are you?” Jasper repeated.

  “Phoenix.”

  “Impossible. They are a myth even in the old dimension.”

  She shook her head. “We are not a myth. There was one left before the collision.”

  The man made of flames. There was no doubt she spoke of the creature conjured in her injuries, but this only raised more questions.

  “Your creature can leave your body?” Jasper couldn’t believe that he even voiced the question. It was absurd. The creatures had taken the punishment of human bodies in exchange for life. They could not separate themselves.

  “Yes.”

  Her frankness stunned him.

  “Impossible,” he said again. “Our creatures are bound to us. They cannot leave our bodies.”

  “Mine can.”

  Mercy lifted the lizard from her shoulder and placed it on the ground. Its claws tapped against the stone as it made a loop outside of her cell and returned to her side. Jasper watched with wide eyes. He didn’t know if he was disgusted or intrigued.

  “Ignes has always been unusual,” Mercy said. “Even before the dimensions combined.”

  “How long were you locked away in that tree?” Jasper asked.

  “A long time.”

  “How long were you there?” His heart crashed against his ribs. His vision blurred, his short panicked breathing likely the cause. She was a Pheonix, and long ago they were legends told to children at night. Bluebell had told him the stories. He wanted to know if they were true.

  A shudder made her shoulders shake. She wrapped her arms around her smooth legs and began to rock back and forth.

  “Many years,” she answered.

  “How many is ‘many’?”

  “What year is it now?”

  He told her without hesitation that it was 2800. Perhaps she had lost track of time in the prison. He certainly didn’t know how long he had been locked in Malachi’s prison. The news made her flinch forward, pressing her chest against her knees. She was making herself as small as possible he realized. Why would the year make her react so violently?

  The lizard crawled up her chest to snuggle into the hollow of her collarbone, curling its tail around her bicep.

  “Mercy?” Jasper asked. “How old are you?”

  “Two hundred and twenty four years old.”

  Once more, the breath wheezed from his lungs. “That’s impossible.”

  She shook her head. “Not for me.”

  “We don’t live two hundred years. Were you cursed?”

  “No.”

  “Then how?”

  She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, mumbling around it. “When I merged with my creature, many strange things happened. I may be wrong, but I believe I am immortal.”

  Only a few small patches of light remained on her body. She covered herself as best she could, her arms trying to be everywhere at once, but there were very few places to hide in the cages. Jealousy made his cheeks heat.

  “Someone give her a shirt!” Jasper said.

  There was no movement from the other cages. The others did not often have much to do with him, but they had seen her creature walk out and return to his cage. He couldn’t understand why that wouldn’t inspire them to action.

  “Now!” His shout echoed down the rows of cells, a flurry of movement suddenly creating a cacophony of sound. A shirt was passed through the ends of the cages, tossing from hand to hand until it landed at her feet.

  “Thank you,” Mercy said as she shrugged it over her shoulders. “Thank you all.”

  Ella moved from her corner to stand in the dim light. “What does Malachi want with you? And why were you harmed when you returned?”

  Mercy spat upon the ground and her lips curled into a sneer. “The Void will regret bringing me here. He needed proof I was what the legends said. Now he has it.”

  “What can you give him?” Ella asked. “He has all of us here to fuel his power. He has me for immortality. What can a Phoenix give him?”

  “It’s not what I can give him. It’s what he can command me to do.”

  Jasper didn’t think he heard her right. “Command? How can he command you to do anything?”

  “A Phoenix has a master,” she told him. “We are not free-thinking creatures. Though wild and unpredictable, a Phoenix in captivity naturally desires a master. Typically, this transfer happens when we are reborn.”

  “Malachi wants to be your master.” It was a horrible thought. Jasper thought he knew what the villain was preparing for. “What will he ask of you? What could a Phoenix be commanded to do?”

  A muscle in her jaw ticked. “Fire is best used for destruction. I could turn this planet into hell if I wished it.”

  “Would you want to?”

  “I wouldn’t have a choice.”

  Jasper’s mind reeled. Sitting in a cell across from him was the end of the world. Mercy was potentially the most powerful person in existence, and Malachi had her in the palm of his hand. The Five and their supporters had lost. They had already lost, and no one knew.

  He heard Ella shifting next to him.

  She walked up to her bars and crossed her arms firmly over her chest. Ella’s voice was wary but strong. “Has he already made himself your master?”

  All eyes in the dungeon appeared to turn towards Mercy. She shook her head. “No. He wanted to make certain I was truly a Phoenix first.”

  “Could we make another your master?”

  The lizard raised its head at the question, and Mercy’s expression darkened. “Yes. But I have no wish for a master.”

  “Forgive my presumption,” Ella said, “but I think this may be more important than your pride. That Void is planning the end of the world. We are all here because he wants to use us in some way. He has been shaving down my horn to give himself healing potions. Soon he will take it entirely. This will leave me vulnerable and likely result in my death.”

  Jasper stood up. “He used me to get you out of the tree. I am an agent of the only people who could stop him. By keeping me locked up, he ensures that they are distracted and not focused.”

  One by one, the prisoners stepped forward to tell her why they were there. The list ranged from useful powers Malachi could rip from their souls, to weaklings he was slowly draining to provide strength to his guards.

  Mercy remained stoic in her cell. Jasper didn’t think she was even listening. Her face was completely still, a statue in the center of chaos. The lizard, however, had moved to stand on its back legs with a foot propped against her cheek. If Jasper listened carefully enough, he thought he could hear it whispering to her.

  When the lizard finished whispering, fire erupted along her arms. He could sense the turmoil in her as though it were a physical wall she had built around herself.

  She rose abruptly. “And who is it then? Who do you wish to bind my soul to? Who do you trust to command me?”

  No one answered.

  Mercy pointed to Ella. “You, Unicorn? I can feel your anger burning underneath your pretty skin. It calls to me just as a dormant volcano would. The hatred that resides inside of you is far stronger than that peaceful exterior.”

  Ella stepped backwards into the shadows of her cell. Jasper wanted to argue in her favor, but Mercy jabbed a finger at him.

  “And you? Fairy? You have no right to command me. You, who have all the
power of green things growing. Don’t you know fire destroys forests? I would take everything you love and turn it to ashes before your eyes. You should think twice before feeding a bonfire more fuel.”

  He recognized this reaction. Her eyes had widened in frenzy, her hands were shaking and uncontrolled showers of embers popped from her shoulders. This was not a woman warning them that she wanted to do them harm. She was panicking.

  He sank down onto his haunches, holding his hands up. “Calm, Mercy. Calm down.”

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly. The flames on her arms continued to grow. They danced down her hair and sparked in the air like tiny fireworks. Had he not just dealt with the same unruly emotions when he thought she would not return?

  Somehow he doubted Ella would be able to ensorcel Mercy the same way she had manipulated him. All he had was his own wily tricks.

  He shook his wings. They brushed against each other with a soft sound. Jasper smelled the dust drifting off of them, sickly sweet and cloying. They had been in the air for too long. They were supposed to shed the Fairy Dust while exposed to air, but he couldn’t release it in the prison. Instead, it had stuck to the membranes of his wings, leaving a fine coating like clay.

  It would be easy to reach behind him and rattle his wings a few more times. With these subtle movements, he would have a handful of Fairy Dust in his palm.

  He just had to distract her long enough to gather it.

  “Why should I be frightened of you, Mercy?” he asked. “Tell me why.”

  Sparks continued to shower onto the floor. “Have you never seen a forest fire in person? The heat is unbearable. It melts your eyes first, then it eats at your flesh until you roast from the outside in.”

  “I think you can control it. The creature is inside of you. I met him; he doesn’t seem so bad.”

  “Ignes is young,” she snapped. “He will assist me with whatever I see fit to do.”

  “And you want to burn us all to death? Rather than take me as a master and trust that I will never make you do anything that you do not wish to do?”

  She let out a little shriek of anger. “Trust you? I do not know you!”

  Jasper quirked an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, you’re going to know me soon enough.”

  He threw the handful of Fairy Dust at her as hard as he could. The pink powder traveled like a bullet and hit her square in the face. It trickled down her cheeks and onto her shoulders in a shower of bright neon colors.

  She blinked a few times, stumbling in shock. He had forgotten how potent his own powers could be. It had been a long time since he used Fairy Dust, and perhaps he had hit her with a little too much.

  “Uh oh,” he muttered.

  Mercy staggered and fell onto her knees, looking dazed. Her ombre eyes stared at him with surprise that faded to a stupor.

  “Sleep,” he told her. “You want to sleep.”

  “I want to sleep.”

  “Just for a little while. And when you wake, you will be calm.”

  “Calm,” she repeated, lying down. The lizard on her shoulder was already limp. “Yes. I will be calm.”

  He let out a long breath. Fire began to dance upon her shoulders, the dream creatures that suggested she was asleep once more. Jasper dropped heavily onto the ground in exhaustion.

  Ella snickered. “That was a lot of Fairy Dust.”

  “I haven’t used it in a while,” he said with a chuckle.

  “That could have taken down an elephant!”

  “I don’t think I’d want to see an elephant on Fairy Dust. Especially now that magic has given them wings.”

  They both burst into laughter. When they finally managed to calm down, Ella shook her head. “That was really close.”

  “I thought she’d have better control than that.”

  “I remember stories about the Phoenix.” Ella’s voice changed slightly. When he looked up, her eyes were glowing blue. This was the Unicorn speaking, not Ella. “They were known to be extremely giving and loving. It was once said that they would give their favor to all who needed them. They could heal with their tears and more times than once sacrificed themselves for another. Seeing a Phoenix was once an omen of good times ahead.”

  “No rumors that they were so…vicious?”

  “No.” Ella’s creature shook her head sadly. “I wonder what happened to her. Something terrible if it forced a creature capable of such wonderful rebirth to become something so full of anger. She protects herself from everything. Even those who might help her.”

  Jasper glanced at the sleeping redhead. A dragonfly soared from her parted lips to spiral in the air. It was hard to imagine anyone wishing her harm. “Something terrible indeed.”

  7

  “Jasper.”

  The voice curled through his conscious mind like a thread of darkness. It was not normal, or at least not the kind of voice one would hear in the physical world.

  Murky dust reigned in those blackened tones. There was a hint of barely leashed aggression, and a honey smooth accent that wasn’t quite from this world. Jasper immediately knew who was speaking to him, but he had not expected to hear that voice ever again.

  Jasper now knew he was awake, and still in his cell. He glanced around. All the other prisoners remained limp in their sleep. The voice echoed around him, loud enough to startle the sleeping prisoners. He pinched his arm hard. He was certainly awake.

  Jasper squinted as he searched for the owner of the voice.

  “Pitch?” he asked quietly.

  “Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?”

  “How are you here?”

  “I’m not.” There was a hint of laughter with the words.

  “Then how are you speaking to me?”

  “Secrets secrets, things you cannot know.”

  Jasper began to search the shadows. It took him a while to find the patch that seemed darker than the rest. The blasted mystery man wasn’t as mysterious as he thought. Pitch walked only in darkness, and rarely stepped outside his comfort zone. It was a dead giveaway that he near when the shadows seemed a little too lifelike.

  “What do you want?” Jasper asked.

  “To help you.”

  “That’s not really your thing, now is it?”

  The shadows churned. “Not particularly. And yet, here I am.”

  “Did Wren send you?” She was the only person who could ask a favor of the dangerous man. Jasper had yet to find out why Pitch had a soft spot for her and no one else.

  “No.”

  “Then who did?”

  “Can you not believe I sent myself?” Pitch asked.

  “Definitely not. You aren’t the giving type, Pitch. Someone must have told you to come here.”

  “Mm.” The sound seemed to both affirm and deny Jasper’s statement. Pitch always twisted words so they could be taken in either way. He was never on anyone’s side but his own, yet others always believed he would help them.

  Jasper was not so foolish. He had no desire to be indebted to a liar made of shadows.

  “Pitch,” Jasper began again, “why are you here?”

  Pitch sighed and it sounded like the hiss of snake. “You are running late. You were supposed to get out of this prison long ago. And now you are ruining the plan.”

  “The plan?” Jasper worried what this could mean. “Are you working with Malachi?”

  “No. I have told all of you this already.”

  “But you knew I was here. And now you’re saying I should have escaped for some plan?”

  “Why don’t you trust me?” The words were projected with such force that a headache bloomed between Jasper’s eyes.

  “Because you are a selfish prick who cares for no one but yourself.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” Pitch laughed. “I am trying to get you out of this little hellhole. How are you getting out of the cell?”

  “I will tell you nothing until you say whose orders you’re taking. It’s not the Five, or I would have heard. So who is it?”


  Jasper heard a small snicking sound from the corner. His eyes canted to the left. He hadn’t been looking at Pitch at all, the man was standing in the opposite corner of the cell. Light had flared as Pitch lit a cigar. The shadows parted to reveal Pitch’s porcelain smooth face, twisted into a macabre grin.

  Pitch exhaled streams of yellow smoke through his nose. “No, it’s not the Five. I have no love for them.”

  “Then who?”

  “A kind soul you will meet someday. But that is not today.”

  Jasper wanted to argue, to demand Pitch answer truthfully without hiding behind veiled riddles. But he also wanted to get out of this cell. The thought of waking up and seeing the sky, even for one night, was too tempting an offer to refuse.

  Though his lips curled in displeasure, Jasper finally relented. “I have no plan on how to get out of the cells. I’m still working on it.”

  “I’m not supposed to interfere,” Pitch growled, “but there is a schedule to stick to, and I’m not surprised it was you who messed things up.”

  The shadows moved again, gathering in a bunch near the middle of his cell. Like a dark cloud, they shifted and swirled before something was thrown at his head. Jasper ducked instinctively but froze in a crouch when he heard the distinct sound of metal hitting stone.

  He whipped around to look at the small, bronze skeleton key, now resting in the corner of the cell. A key? Of course.

  Jasper spun towards Pitch. “What do you want in return?”

  “A favor.”

  “Which is?”

  “Don’t know yet,” Pitch replied. “I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

  “That seems risky to agree to.”

  “You’ve already got the key. You can tell me no.”

  Saying no wasn’t an option, and Pitch must know that. Jasper had an inflated sense of honor, and Pitch liked to take advantage of that. A favor was owed. And a favor would be given.

  “Fine,” Jasper growled. “But if you ask me to kill someone I will make you regret it.”

  “When have I ever suggested that I would need you to kill someone?”

  “We all know your line of work.”

  Pitch snorted. “If I needed someone to do my dirty work, I wouldn’t have the reputation I have, would I?”