Red Blood (Series of Blood Book 2)

by Emma Hamm

  He was right behind her. She jumped and immediately leaned forward to palm one of her blades. It was always strapped to her thigh, but he wouldn’t know that.

  “No weapons.”

  The blade hummed against her palm and immediately turned to water. Her fingers clenched around empty air.

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked.

  “No, I need you to learn how to trust me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it is something I deeply desire,” he whispered into her ear. She felt the warmth of his arms on either side of her head as he reached around her. His hands cupped carefully around her eyes. “You need to learn how to not be alone.”

  “I’m not alone. I have my family.” She was thinking of Jasper. He was the only person she would ever call family.

  “I am not your family. Call me selfish. Call me arrogant. But I want to you realize that without me, you do not see in color.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked, just as his hands shifted around her.

  He drew his thumbs down in a line spanning from her hairline to the very edge of her eyebrows. The movement would have been soothing if she wasn’t beginning to feel trapped. His fingers curled like spider legs down her nose and tucked underneath her chin. His elbows spiked towards the ceiling like the wings of a vulture.

  “I’m showing you how to see.” His breath tickled the whorl of her ear.

  And then, as he commanded it, she did.

  All around her the world burst into vivid color. Not sight, in particular, but a different way of seeing the world. Everything around her sparkled. The table and inanimate objects around her glittered less, but it was the living creatures that caught her attention.

  She could see Mungus as never before. He was not just a skeleton. The light curled around him and warped his body into shape. The movement of color was similar to a Van Gogh painting she had seen in a book once. There was no beginning or end to the shape but a connection of the world to this creature.

  It swirled and moved with a life of its own. Mungus turned towards her, and she gasped when she saw the aquiline shape of a distinguished nose, the high arch of a prominent forehead, and full lips spread into a warm smile. He bowed to her.

  “What is this?” She breathed the question out against his fingers.

  “I’m showing you how I see.”

  “This is how you see the world?”

  “When I wish to remind myself that there is good left.”

  Her heart hurt. He was always making her heart hurt; this dastardly man who refused to tell her things but managed to change the way she thought. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she widened them. She wanted to see everything.

  “Look down,” he murmured in her ear.

  “I don’t want to miss anything.”

  “Look down, and see how I see you.”

  She tilted her head as far as his arms would allow her and gasped. In her palms were the great eddies of the ocean. Her fingers were crashing waves of color and seafoam sparkling fingers.

  She raised her hand up to peer into the depths of the sea. In the very center of her hand, she felt as though she could see stars.

  “This?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  “The first moment I saw you, I saw an abyss. The darkest of whirlpools that would drag me down under crashing waves and crushing weight. I thought you would take my soul and bury it so far away I would never find it again.” His fingers shifted to gently stroke under her chin. “But when I looked deeper into that abyss, I saw the brightest of lights.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then say nothing. Just look.”

  Look she did. Lyra drank in every object she could find as though it were infinitely important. This magical world was a Siren’s dream. Everything was beautiful, sparkling, clean. There wasn’t a speck of the world that she did not like.

  He had given her this gift. But there was something missing.

  “Wolfgang, I want to see you.”

  She felt his chest rise through the fabric back of the chair as he inhaled. “I do not believe you should.”

  “I want to.”

  He held his hands against her eyes for long moments more before she felt him nod against her neck. She stood slowly so she didn’t dislodge his hands.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “So you can turn around.”

  “Oh.” She quickly squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could and nodded. “Okay ready.”

  He helped her turn, although she doubted he could have caught her if she tripped. Lyra was small, but she was heavier than she looked. She could easily knock the two of them to the ground.

  She did not flinch this time when his hands cupped over her eyes. A spell was murmured quietly, and still she did not open her eyes. The suspense was killing her.

  “Alright then, open,” Wolfgang commanded.

  “Oh,” she whispered as her eyes fluttered open. “Of course you’re blue.”

  Blue wasn’t even enough of a word to describe him. He glowed. Everything about him was brilliant and painful to look at. He was the most stunning color that rivaled the sky, the ocean, the most prized sapphires.

  The magic that flowed through him made him the most stunning thing she had ever seen. Blue tendrils strengthened his body. He was larger than life in this way of seeing. She couldn’t step back but could see how large his shoulders were. She could see how defined his chest had become. She could feel the strength in his arms just by looking at them.

  She had known he was not a weak man. But she was ashamed to say she had never thought to see him like this. Her hands rose to hold onto his forearms as her world began to tilt.

  His hands were gentle against her eyes. Parts of his magic reached towards her, and she watched as a thin filament tangled with a bit of the seafoam of her fingers.

  “What’s it doing?” she asked him.

  “What it always does when I’m around you.”

  “Why is it doing that?”

  He shrugged. “I believe we are more connected with each other than either of us could have imagined.”

  “Oh.”

  Wolfgang swallowed hard. She watched as the ever moving magic dust began a chaotic spiral inside his chest.

  “Lyra, if you wish, I will bring my doppelganger back.”

  “Why would I want that?” She didn’t understand the question. Although that Wolfgang was certainly more attractive, he was not the same as the man she could touch.

  “I know what I look like—”

  She reached forward to press one of her hands against his mouth. It was unnerving to watch the colors of her own body meld together with him until she could not tell where she began. But as she stared, she realized that another part of herself settled.

  Her soul. That soft feeling was her soul, she was certain of it.

  “I don’t care what you look like, Wolfgang. I may be a vain Siren, but I am only vain when it comes to myself. Your looks mean nothing to me.”

  “I will hold you to that,” he murmured against her hand.

  “You won’t have to.”

  His fingers shook against her eyes, and he slowly lowered them. The light faded. Without his touch, she was staring into only darkness. The change was jarring. Unwelcome.

  His hands smoothed along the edges, and he gently pulled the blindfold from her. He had been kind enough to have only a few candles burning behind her, so the light didn’t burn her eyes. Lyra blinked at him.

  It was true. He was an ugly man. But now all she saw were the bright lights of his magic and his soul. She grinned.

  Wolfgang looked as though he had been shot. She hadn’t thought it was possible, but he grew even more pale as he stared at her lips.

  “Where did you come from?” he asked her.

  Normally, she would have given some ridiculous answer. Lyra particularly liked to make up stories about far off places and daring adventures. Sh
e was a pirate’s daughter who sailed the seven seas while stealing treasure. It was a believable story for a Siren.

  But staring up into those mismatched eyes, she couldn’t lie to him.

  “The Golden Corridor. My parents were a politician and an extremely wealthy businessman.”

  His hand raised to trace the air next to her cheek. He did not touch her, not yet. “A wealthy girl with a contract?”

  “My parents despised me for what I was. Sirens are hated by many creatures, my parent’s included. I rebelled. You can thank Jasper for that. He teleported me away and landed in the Black Market. I did what I had to. Survival was more important than dignity at that point.”

  Wolfgang’s eyes darkened the more she spoke. “Survival?”

  “I have a dark past.” She shook her head. “I don’t particularly like visiting it.”

  “You do not wish to tell me.”

  “It’s not that,” she replied. She was uncomfortable with the entire idea of it. If she could tell anyone, and she had never told anyone, she should be able to tell this man. He was damaged in the same way she was. Touched by darkness and incapable of finding light.

  Except in her.

  Lyra shook her head again. “I’m not sure I can tell you. I don’t think I could make the words come out.”

  His hands curled gently on her neck. “Would you mind if I looked?”

  “You can—?” She let the question linger in the air without finishing it.

  “Yes.”

  She took a deep breath. Never in her life had she told anyone what she had experienced that night. Even Jasper didn’t know what had happened with Sneep. No one else but her and Bones knew that she had willingly killed a man. That she had blood on her hands long before she began fighting for the Five.

  No one else knew that Bones had been right. After the third dead body hit the ground, she really had stopped feeling guilty about it.

  The weight had pressed on her for so long now that she didn’t even feel the burden. Lyra was no longer aware of the darkness that had sunk far into her soul. It festered like an open wound, but she did not feel the pain.

  So for once in her life, she was going to clean the damn thing out. She met Wolfgang’s probing gaze and nodded.

  His hands dug into her hair, and he closed his eyes instantly. The whispered words of a spell made her spine straighten as electricity danced across her skin. She felt the strange discomfort of dizziness and aching muscles.

  He was flicking her memories. Every bit of her life was laid bare between them. Her thoughts were suddenly like a book. He turned a page, and she hadn’t finished reading it yet. Lyra logically knew he was searching for that memory. The one she had buried so deep she had almost forgotten it.

  But she was disoriented. His magic was not comforting like an Illusionist. His magic was raw and uncultured. It clawed through her mind leaving torn pages and a blinding pain.

  She could smell burning hair. Why could she smell burning hair?

  Her mind suddenly paused. There it was. The memory.

  She wanted to close her eyes against the sightless eyes of Mr. Sneep staring back at her. Bones was in front of her again, and she was ashamed to admit she was frightened. He terrified her because he was the darkness inside of her.

  Wolfgang watched the memory with her. She could still feel his hands gently pressed against her temples. When had he moved his hands?

  He flicked through the remaining memories of Bones as though he wasn’t particularly interested but wanted to see them. She hadn’t wanted to share those memories. She didn’t want to him to see the way she had lived.

  She didn’t want him to see the men she had killed.

  Wolfgang did not appear to care that she didn’t want him to see those memories. He watched them and many others. Picking and choosing what he wanted to see as though she were a fine wine.

  Finally he stopped. He did not look at any recent memories, she noted. Lyra couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to see her reaction to him when she had first seen him. Not the doppelganger but him. The real person who stood in front of her.

  Perhaps he simply respected her privacy.

  Lyra stepped away from him to press her own hand against her head. A pain bloomed deep inside her skull.

  “I forgot,” Wolfgang spat the words as though they were a curse. He reached for her and pressed a cool palm against her forehead. At his murmured words, the pain abated. The muscles in her back twinged, but that pain was minimal compared to the headache.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I am sorry that was your life.”

  “It is mine, and I am not sorry for it. I am who I am today because of everything I have experienced. I was a spoiled child. I was raised to be mean. And I was.” When he looked as though he would argue with her, she lifted a hand. “No, I was a mean person. I have been cold and heartless because that is my natural state. I like to think that I am no longer that person.”

  “I have never met a woman who could hold my gaze for as long as you without seeing pity in her eyes.”

  She didn’t want to dwell on what that meant. No one could possibly see him the way she saw him. He was otherworldly, not dangerous or frightening. But she would not entertain the idea of pity with him.

  Instead, she shrugged. “Doesn’t help that you live in a graveyard. Men need a good bachelor’s pad to take the ladies. Otherwise, you’re poor, and we’re not interested.”

  He tilted his head back and barked out loud laughter. This was the man she knew so well. The strange and unusual creature who lived under the ground and laughed at her jokes even though he did not understand them.

  She smiled back when she saw the chipped front tooth that she had come to so enjoy. He was a hodge podge of ugly features, and she so appreciated him for that.

  He was still laughing but managed to finally respond. “It hasn’t seemed to bother you.”

  “I think we’ve already gone over the fact that I am not normal.”

  “No, no you are not under any circumstance normal,” he repeated. “But you hold the same amount of darkness that I do.”

  She tensed when he slid a finger underneath her chin and forced her to meet his mismatched eyes. “Lyra, death can destroy you.”

  “Or it can turn you into a fighter.”

  “Lingering upon memories best left alone can destroy even the strongest of people. You should not dwell upon such a dark past.”

  She smiled at him. “I don’t.”

  “I know you do because I do as well.”

  “What’s your story then?” She bit her lip and hoped for a distraction. “How did you end up here since I can’t relive your memories like I’m reading a book.”

  “My parents were not Red Bloods. They were thieves who were addicted to Juice. They could no longer feel good emotions without the help of drugs. When I was six, I began to realize what they were. I did not go to school. I did not have friends. I lived in a basement hiding from the world with my family.”

  “Wolfgang—” she interrupted him to press her hands against his bony ribcage.

  “When I was ten and they were trying to give me my first taste of Happiness; I refused. I did not know how to control my magic back then. I only knew that I was angry, and I wanted to wipe the earth clean. Blood Magic was not a choice for me; it was natural. They were the first people to be devoured by my magic, and they were not the last.”

  “You killed your parents?”

  “I did more than than, little Siren. I killed everyone in the entire building.”

  She shuddered. The amount of magic that he had gained from that much death would have been immense for a ten year old.

  “How many people?” She could not help but ask.

  “Twenty five? Thirty? I do not know. I only know that I was fed that day. I lost myself for a very long time. Blood Magic can be used in two ways. From other people or from yourself.”

  She traced a deep scar upon his neck, whi
ch had been covered up by the dark tattoo from chin down. “Obviously now you prefer to draw from yourself.”

  “I tried to turn myself into something else once. Something I am not,” he murmured. “As that failed, I will only cause myself pain.”

  “You’re a better man than you think you are, Wolfgang.”

  “And you are the only woman who would say that after finding out how much blood is on my hands.”

  She reached out to take his hands in hers. She tilted both at the wrists until she was staring down at his palms. “They hold as much as mine.”

  A wry grin spread across his face. “An odd couple we are then. Come, there is food growing cold.”

  “You actually got me food?”

  “I said I did.”

  “I thought you were just saying that to get me down here!”

  He rolled his eyes and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. They walked as they always did towards the dining chamber. Only this time, they stood a little closer than before.

  Chapter 9

  The tunnel to Wolfgang’s home was completely barren once more. There were no Troll children running underfoot. There were no Dwarven women with beards that tickled the ground. Although Lyra had found these sights odd the first moments she had seen them, she now found she missed them.

  There was something particularly satisfying about knowing without a doubt she was the prettiest woman in the room. She was well aware how absolutely horrid that sounded. She never would have given the thought a life by speaking it aloud. Yet the Siren inside of her was pleased when these people were around.

  Sure, they were probably more attractive inside than Lyra would ever manage to be. But she was a Siren. She was supposed to be pretty but selfish, flighty, and annoying. She fit into her box very well.

  Her heels sank into the dirt floor. She didn’t know why she tried so hard when she came to see Wolfgang. He was always covered up in some kind of robe, and she was always dressed to perfection. She didn’t know if she’d even seen what he looked like underneath all that shapeless fabric.

  Unless one counted the vision he had given her of his soul.

  She had made a habit of visiting him whenever she could sneak away. The Five were still hounding her to bring them a person fulfilling the prophecy, but she found she simply couldn’t. There was something inside her that said not yet. Wait. Breathe. Enjoy him.