Silver Blood (Series of Blood Book 1)

by Emma Hamm

  “Actually, no.” He hopped over the hole in the bridge.

  “Look, I don’t know who you are, but I have work to do.”

  “Work?” Finally he reached the end of the dock with her. He nudged the side of her thigh with his foot until she moved. Usually he wasn’t quite so forward with people in dreams, but she was a puzzle he was intrigued by.

  “This.” She gestured around her. “This is my work.”

  He tried hard to see what she saw, but the only thing around Burke was a pond with flowers at its edge.

  “Doesn’t look like hard work to me.”

  She laughed at his joke and shook her head. “No, I suppose it’s not. But it makes it hard to rest thoroughly. Working even in your own dream is tiring in the real world too.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand how this is a job.”

  “Juice.”

  The word meant little to him until he remembered the substance that so many relied on for happiness. “Ah. You make Juice in your dreams?”

  “It’s better than my own memories.” She squinted her eyes at the edges of the dream. “You can see it there a little.”

  He followed the point of her finger and saw that the edges of the meadow were turning gray. “You leech emotions from dreams,” he whispered as though it was a secret only he should know.

  “Yes,” she replied with a sigh. “The dreams always start out so lovely, with the good emotions at least. But I’m always sad to see them go.”

  “Doesn’t that lace the happiness with sadness?”

  She shrugged. “The best kind of Happiness has a little bit of Sadness in it as well. I’m not making Bliss.”

  He was thoroughly confused. This dream had taken on a life of its own, and even he was having trouble discerning whether this was real life or not. It was entirely possible that he was dreaming himself and that she was a Dream Walker who had turned this around on him.

  “Who are you?” He asked her as his eyes watched the weaving tangle of her hair that floated around her delicate face.

  “Wren. Like you said.”

  “But who are you? Where can I find you?”

  She blinked slowly down at the pond and reached to dip a single toe into the cool water. Her eyes followed the exaggerated ripples as she answered him. “I don’t think you should find me. I don’t know who you are.”

  “But I need to find you.” He thought, at least he was starting to hope, that this strange and unusual creature was actually the one he was looking for. She was certainly insane enough; he could feel it in her mind. But she also wasn’t insane. It was a rather odd combination that made him think she was special.

  “No one needs to find anyone. We’re all lost in a sea of people, and that’s how we should remain.”

  And there it was. The confirmation, at least as far as he was concerned. He leaned to place his fingers upon her chin and gently turned her face towards him. “I found you here. Now I need to find you in the real world.”

  She smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but think that smile was a little bit sad. “You know, you didn’t get the eyes right. Pitch has black eyes. Yours are green.”

  He reared back. “My eyes aren’t green. They’re hazel.”

  “They’re green.”

  A splashing sound from her feet had them both turning. Burke blinked as he saw the odd looking emerald fish that had clamped onto her foot. It had spines along its back that flared as she shook her foot. Easily the size of his forearm, the fish was more mouth than anything else. Its beady eyes stuck out from its head comically as it struggled to swallow her foot.

  “Happiness?” He couldn’t help but ask.

  “Bittersweet Happiness,” she said.

  He watched as she leaned down and sunk her fingers into the gills. The fish’s eyes bugged out even further as she forcefully wrenched it from her foot and tossed it back into the pond. Her blood dripped into the water, which was swiftly turning red.

  “You should wake up,” he said.

  “Can’t. Not until E tells me I can.”

  “You won’t wake up with that wound, but if you die in a dream then you’re dead.”

  “I know.”

  He blinked at her for a moment and realized how easily she managed to confuse him. “You don’t care?”

  “Well of course I do. I like being alive, but being dead might be an interesting adventure as well.”

  “It’s not an adventure,” he growled before leaning down to yank her foot towards him. He was so forceful that he nearly tossed her into the water with the creatures that were clearly waiting for her flesh.

  “That’s not yours.” She yanked her foot back, but he held onto her ankle.

  “I know it’s not mine. I’m trying to stop you from dying.”

  “I’m not going to die. It’s just a foot!”

  Burke almost left the dream then. He was frustrated and angry with the woman before him who looked as though her hair was alive. She didn’t seem to understand how the Dream World worked, or she didn’t care. He needed to bring her back to the Five and had the oddest feeling that if he didn’t take care of her she would be out of his reach forever.

  And he was running out of time.

  “You won’t if I can help it.”

  “Let go of my foot.” She was pulling hard enough that he was having trouble holding onto her. Burke suddenly wished he was in his own body, which was much larger than this one.

  “Would you just stay still for a moment so I can look at it?”

  “You don’t understand, I have to stay here and finish.”

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t help you.”

  “Stop touching me!”

  He pulled her firmly towards him so that he could get a hold of her leg as well as her ankle. He saw a small flash of fear in her eyes and remembered with perfect clarity that he was not in the real world. Just the smallest of nudges and he could be putting both of them into a nightmare.

  He would have let go in that instant if the strangest thing hadn’t happened to her. In one moment, he was staring into her turbulent gray eyes, and in the next, they rolled back into her head. He could only see the backs of her eyes as a pure white marble.

  Burke was certain she was having a stroke. He had never seen anyone have a stroke in a dream, but there it was. She was having a stroke, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, because it was her dream.

  Except her eyes were slightly moving as they tracked his movements, and she was perfectly still. She spoke then, and the voice that came out of her mouth was not hers.

  “Let go of her, boy.” The voice was impossibly deep and made the skin on his borrowed form tingle as power raced along his arms. The hair on the back of his neck stood up straight as he realized he was talking directly to the insanity inside her.

  He dropped her foot.

  Wren pulled back until she was seated more properly. Her legs were spread wider in the way that a man might sit, and her shoulders were further back. A cigarette materialized in her hand, and she took a long drag. When she exhaled, the smoke was bright blue.

  “Don’t tell Wren.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t tell Wren that we smoke.” She exhaled again. “Wren doesn’t like smoking at all, but I certainly do.”

  “Ah.”

  The power of that insanity made it very difficult for Burke to focus. It was an electricity that was constantly moving over him. This was entirely different than sitting before the odd and unusual woman.

  “Who are you?” the deeper voice asked.

  “You don’t need to know that.”

  Suddenly, Burke realized that the dream had turned on him. He was the one that had stepped into a nightmare, yet the environment around them remained unchanged. It was beautifully calm in the meadow and deadly underneath the still waters of the pond.

  “Oh but I do. Anyone that frightens my girl needs to make themselves known.”

  “I’m far more interested in knowing
who you are.”

  She blew out a swirl of blue smoke that was steadily changing purple. “You’re not going to find that out. If I’m not telling Wren who I am, I sure as hell am not telling you.”

  “I believe I was sent to find you,” Burke said as he moved a little bit away from the creature that inhabited Wren’s body. He remembered all too well the constantly moving mass of insanity that was inside of her head.

  “Who would send you to find me?” Wren tipped her head back and started blowing smoke rings at the sky, which was significantly less blue. Burke knew that the creature’s relaxed position was anything but relaxed. A creature like this would never let its guard down.

  “The Five.”

  All movement in the woman’s body stopped. Slowly, her head turned towards him and those unnatural white eyes did not blink. “The Five?”

  A curl of red smoke drifted out of her nose like blood.

  “They believe you can help us.”

  “Let me give you fair warning, boy.” Wren rolled her shoulders. “The Five are not welcome near Wren. They can shove whatever nonsense they got themselves into right up their royal asses. Wren stays safe.”

  “Is that your decision?”

  “This is our body. She does not know what they are capable of. I do.”

  Wren glanced up towards the sky that was now completely gray. The grasses were nearly leeched of color and the pond was no longer the vivid blue that had glittered in the sunlight.

  “The world needs you to help us.” Burke tried once more and was just as easily dismissed.

  “It’s a shame really,” the creature murmured. “She so enjoys sitting by this pond. She’s never seen anything as green as this or a place as beautiful. I have so many memories like this to share with her, but this one was ruined.”

  “Ruined?” Burke couldn’t help but ask. The voice that came out of her mouth was unnerving yet captivating.

  “Cutting it short will hurt her. She’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”

  “Why? Why are you hurting her?”

  “It wasn’t my choice. You rushed the process, and now you need to go.” White eyes turned to stare at him again, but this time they blinked. The blink was slow, as though there was no need for it to blink, but it did so to make him uncomfortable.

  “I need to find out where she is. I need to find her.”

  Slowly, Wren shook her head, and Burke’s borrowed body burst. He was the smoke once more and stared down in shock as the creature looked away from him again. One of her delicate hands was raised, and he found himself tossed out of her dream like a ragdoll.

  Whatever that creature was, it was far more powerful than him. Shaken and worried, he traveled back towards his body. Burke was incredibly weak after that meeting, but he was certain he would be able to get home.

  That thing had wanted nothing to do with him, but regardless, he had received the information he needed. Her name was Wren, she made Juice, and she lived in a city. There were plenty around the Five, and it shouldn’t take too long for him to find a producer of Juice with such an odd name.

  The journey home took much less time than he expected. He settled into his skin with a sigh and breathed in deeply. His spine cracked so loud that the sound echoed in the underground room. He couldn’t feel his legs but knew that the pins and needles would start very soon.

  The pain would be worth it. He had found the information that he needed, and soon he would track her down. Little, mad Wren who used dreams to make Juice would be found sooner than the creature inside her wished.

  Thankfully, he hadn’t let either of them know what he looked like.

  CHAPTER 2

  T he bells to her shop jangled early for the usual crowd. Wren was trying to restock the Juice she had made the night before but found that her mind was wandering. She hadn’t slept very well, though she could only slightly remember her dreams.

  There had been pain. She was certain of that. Her ankle had hurt when she had rolled out of bed, and her mind had felt foggy. A lingering feeling of discomfort or perhaps anger made her strive to remember what she had seen, but the dream remained out of her reach no matter how hard she tried to remember the details. Whatever had happened, she brushed it aside like the rest of her adventures in the Dream World. She didn’t need to remember dreams when her real life was falling to pieces.

  Literally. She glanced at the hole in the ceiling above her head with a sour expression. She was going to have to tack a rug up there so no one noticed. Or maybe another curtain. There were already a few hanging in sheer fabrics to give the room some “atmosphere”. No one would notice if she put up another one. Right?

  “I’ll be right over!” she shouted as she got up on her tiptoes to try and reach a bottle that needed to be moved to the lower shelves. She was perched precariously on top of an old library ladder that had seen better days. One of her feet popped off of the rung as if she might be able to reach a little farther if she stretched onto her tiptoe.

  Only then did she realize the silence in her shop. Usually, the people that came into her store were talking loudly or would at least make conversation with her. Everyone in this area knew who she was, and though they found her slightly odd, they would always make small talk.

  She blinked at the vials and tried to catch a glimpse of whomever had walked into her store by their reflection. Unfortunately, they were so dusty that she couldn’t see anything. Wren spat onto her thumb to rub one of the bottles with a loud squeak. She could only see a dark shadow behind her once the glass was clean.

  “Pitch, if you’ve ruined my night…” she muttered as she slowly turned.

  Wren dangled from the ladder one handed as she turned around to look. Her hair slid over her shoulder like dark silk. She was nearly falling off of the ladder, but she didn’t worry. If she fell, it was only bruises that waited for her. The ground wasn’t all that far away after all.

  The man standing at the counter was not someone she recognized. Wren didn’t like that. People around here were regulars, and those who weren’t were going to cause trouble. Wren didn’t have time for trouble.

  He wore a long leather jacket that fit snug across his broad shoulders. Gold buttons nearly blinded her when the light caught on the rows that followed the broad expanse of his chest. Military jacket, if she remembered correctly.

  Black pants covered his legs, but it was his eyes that she couldn’t look away from. A ring of vivid green circled his pupils and complimented the aristocratic arch of his nose and the jut of his strong jaw. Blonde curls were cropped close to his skull which was far higher in the air than any head had a right to be.

  He was a handsome devil that was for certain. But Wren had found that “devil” was a word to look out for when meeting someone like him.

  “Can I help you?” she asked. Breathless, she tried to convince herself that the lack of air was due to hard work. Not him.

  “Not me, no.”

  Wren wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re in a store you know. People usually come in when they need to buy something.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but the doors behind him jangled open as a group of young men came in. They were already laughing, and Wren knew exactly what they were here for. She had to lean to the side drastically to grin at them, because the other man was in the way.

  As she leaned, the unknown man lurched forward. The bar stopped him, and Wren gave him a confused look as his hands clenched on the wooden edge. Did he really think she was going to fall? He didn’t know her well enough to think he could catch her if she slipped. And if she did, which was often, she knew it wouldn’t hurt that much.

  “Wrennie!”

  She winced when she heard the nickname. She hated it when they called her that. “Hello, boys. The usual?”

  “Aw, you know us too well.”

  Of course she did. They were in here every weekend for the same thing. Everyone loved her Juice, and these boys wanted a little bit of danger without having to worry about g
etting hurt. She gave them the feeling of Adventure. It was a dangerous blend of Euphoria and Fear. The boys always loved it.

  Wren made sure to keep them in a back room every weekend. They could get a little rowdy, and she didn’t need any more things in her front room broken. Like that hole in the ceiling. That was going to bother her for the entire night. She stared up at the offending black space as she found their vials.

  “I happen to have a little bit of it waiting for you.” She spun on her heel to grasp the bottle that contained the lime green smoke. It held more than the average amount of smoke and was on the shelf precisely for these men.

  “Aw, Wrennie, what would we do without you?” the boy asked as he handed her coins.

  “I suspect you’d be fine.” The coins clinked in her hand with a satisfying clack. Though she was loath to admit it, the sound of jangling coins was one of her favorites.

  They wandered away from her to the back room they knew was theirs, and she blew a breath at the stray hair that had stuck to the teal lipstick on her mouth.

  “What can I do for you then?” She turned towards the unknown man and propped a hip against the counter.

  He was giving her a puzzled expression that she didn’t quite like. She wasn’t some kind of enigma for this man to figure out. He didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him. That didn’t mean they needed to know each other. Wren didn’t know that many people. She didn’t want to. Knowing someone led to trouble, and she’d already had her fair share of that.

  “Well?” Her tone was a little on the heated side, but she didn’t have time for someone to stand around staring at her all night.

  “Your hair should be red.”

  She blinked at him. “Red?”

  Her hair had not been red for many months. She changed her hair color nearly as often as she changed her clothes. Right now it was black, tomorrow it might be white. All of it came with the added help of magic that could change her hair without any work at all. Drink a little potion and suddenly she was staring at pink hair the next morning. It was lovely.

  “The last time I saw you, your hair was red.”

  “I haven’t had red hair for a very long time.”