Silver Blood (Series of Blood Book 1)

by Emma Hamm

  Burke paused again, looking at her as though he was waiting for the light to go off in her head. Wren pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders once more.

  “Really?”

  “Why are you looking at me like I should know this? Burke, I really don’t have a clue what you’re on about.”

  “Did you not go to school?”

  She ignored the sound of snickering in her head from E. “Listen, Burke, I have a life that doesn’t revolve around fantasy stories of rising evil and saving the world. I don’t pay attention to children’s stories, and I definitely don’t need to get involved with it.”

  “I think you’re part of the prophecy.”

  The words came out of his mouth so fast she thought she might have heard them wrong. Part of a prophecy? Now that was a laugh. She was just a Juice producer in the back end of town, not someone that was likely to be mentioned by an Oracle. And more than that, Wren didn’t want to be someone like that.

  “You’ve got the wrong girl. Now please go so that I can towel off without charging you for a show.”

  “I don’t think I have the wrong person. I’m rarely wrong.”

  “And what makes you think I’m the person you’re looking for?” she asked. “Really, have you seen me? Have you seen my life? I’m not in a prophecy, Burke.”

  “Lost in a crowd is the creature that binds. It is they who have lost all of their minds. What did you say to me the first time we met?”

  “Nothing like that.” She leaned out of the tub and tried to snatch the towel. In response, Burke leaned as well and pulled it out of her reach. “Hey!”

  “Listen to me, Wren. We’ve met before, and you most certainly did say something remarkably similar. It’s not just you that the prophecy is talking about.”

  She looked at him with those big gray eyes, and Burke knew that something else was looking at him now as well.

  “What?”

  “In your dreams. We’ve met before.”

  “No we haven’t,” she whispered. Wren was uncertain, however, that the words were actually the truth.

  “I met the creature inside you as well.” A sideways smile quirked his mouth. “Sorry, bud. I can’t take the warning you gave me. I have more important things to protect.”

  Wren felt for a moment as though she was shoved aside in her own mind. E surged forward with more power than it had ever exerted. She heard herself say, “You should have heeded my warning.” There was a scuffle inside of her head as she fought to gain control once more. Finally, Wren was able to look out of her own eyes.

  “What the hell went on between the two of you?” she asked both of them.

  “Just a disagreement,” Burke said. “Your creature doesn’t want to help us and would rather protect you. I’m asking you to make the choice that will benefit the world even if you have to put yourself in danger. Wren, the world is about to change in a big way.”

  He leaned forward as though to grab her hands, which she immediately pulled out of his grasp.

  “E,” she whispered and fluttered her hand at Burke’s confused expression.

  “It’s too dangerous Wren.”

  “Why?”

  Burke immediately started prattling again, but Wren wasn’t listening to him. She was blocking out his voice entirely as she listened to E who had begun to speak again.

  “I remember the Five. They were always high and mighty, wanting the world to be sunshine and sprinkles. The world isn’t meant to be like that. It’s light and dark, good and bad. They can’t fix it and neither can you. If Malachi has risen again, I won’t put you in danger.”

  “It’s not your choice to put me in danger.”

  “Of course not,” Burke continued. “But I think-”

  She leaned forward to press her palm firmly against his mouth. “Shut up, Burke. I’m not talking to you.”

  “It’s not,” E replied. “Wren, if you do this, you will die. Malachi will stop at nothing, and I cannot protect you. You need to trust me.”

  “I have always trusted you, E,” she said.

  Wren leaned back and took her hand away from Burke’s mouth. The tub had grown cold. Its water felt icy as she ducked down further into it. A shiver rocked her shoulders, but she wasn’t about to get out until Burke left. Now it was a matter of pride.

  “Do you always talk to your creature out loud?”

  “You can be nicer and call it E. That’s it’s name.”

  “E?”

  “Yes, E. It’s short for Entity.”

  “Why don’t you call it by its name? Or at least its species.”

  Wren gave him an unimpressed look. “I don’t know what E is. I’m a Curiosity.”

  “Curiosity indeed,” Burke muttered. “So you have no idea what E is?”

  “No. Look, I’ve always trusted E. My entire life has been E taking care of me. If it says that this is a bad idea, then I go with what E says. I’m sorry, Burke, but find someone else to fulfill that prophecy of yours.”

  The candles around her tub had burned into nubs. One by one, they started to sputter as his jaw tightened. She thought he was going to argue with her more. If he had been good at his job, which Wren knew he wasn’t, he would have just kidnapped her then and there. But Burke wasn’t that kind of person.

  He wanted her to make the right choice so that he didn’t have to kidnap her. He had bled more for her than any other person he could name. But he could also see that she was shivering in the tub. He was enough of a gentleman to know that it was time for him to bow out.

  “The only person who can help us is you. I’m convinced of that.”

  He stood then and held the towel out to her. She took it with ice cold fingers but watched him with wary eyes. Wren didn’t have any reason to think that he would hurt her. She didn’t have any reason to think about him at all. Yet those green eyes were fascinating when they were frustrated.

  “I’m sorry, Burke. Really I am.”

  He shrugged. “I have time to convince you. But not as long as you might want.”

  He headed towards her window and slung a leg over the sill. He hesitated for only a moment before turning to look back at her. She was hung over the edge of her white tub, watching him with storm gray eyes and long, wet limbs.

  It was a hard sight to leave.

  “You don’t have a lot of time to change your mind, Wren. And I need you to change your mind.”

  Wren finally relaxed when he disappeared out her window. The man had a way of making himself seem larger than he was. Burke’s broad shoulders and height were enough to fill a room. He took up so much space with that intense stare and power.

  She was going to continue telling him no. It wasn’t easy to keep doing, because she really did want to help him. But Burke wanted to pull her out of her life and put her in danger. Why would she ever agree to something like that?

  E didn’t trust him, and that was enough to make Wren nervous. Not once had the entity inside of her done anything that had endangered either of them. E had always liked her, and she had always liked having it with her. Losing each other would be unbearable.

  Wren sighed as she stood up from the tub. The towel was held in her hand limply as gooseflesh spread across her skin. Her life had gone from predictable to unpredictable, and she didn’t like that in the slightest.

  A slight knocking sound at the window had her eyes darting towards the opening and to the figure that stood watching her. She shrieked and desperately attempted to cover herself with the blood stained towel. The shadowed form darkened her window for a moment longer before she saw a flash of teeth.

  “Sorry, just a reminder that I’ll still be in your shop tomorrow.”

  “Out, Burke!”

  She tossed the vial of Comfort at him as he disappeared. It shattered against her windowsill in a splash of glittering gray. Satisfied in that at least, she stomped to the window and shut it firmly. For good measure, she turned the lock and yanked the curtain down as well.

  She co
uldn’t help but smile after that. Burke had always seemed less of a man and more of a shadow to her. He lingered at the edges of her vision, but whenever she turned to look at him, he became less solid.

  Now she was certain that he was just a man.

  Wren opened the towel and glanced down at her thin body.

  “Well, it’s not nothing.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “E!” She turned her head back to stare up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Not you too.”

  T he note that was slipped under her door was an invitation to a party she did not wish to go to. Wren didn’t like the mass of human bodies pressed against hers. There were too many people, too many noises, and far too much cement around her.

  Pitch was the only person that would try and do something like this. He invited everyone that he could and then some. The types of people he invited were from all manner of life. Delicate high born ladies with dresses made of butterflies and men with metal decorations that followed them around. These people would mingle with Wren’s kind. She came from the kind of people who wore clothing made of wool and whose eyes were darkened with hatred of the world.

  Or at least that was the romantic way to see it. Really, Pitch just invited everyone that he could, because they would be more likely to buy at least something. A club was a rather safe place to indulge in all manner of foolishness.

  Wren avoided them like the plague.

  This time, the note that was slid under her door didn’t give her any options. The invitation was just as vibrant as always with a professional black base and silver letters that seemed to glow. The handwritten part underneath the generic note was what caught her eye.

  No excuses. Box outside.

  Pitch had signed his name under the warning with a flourish. Of course he wasn’t going to let her have a quiet night in. He never had liked how much of a homebody she was.

  Outside her door was a box in similar colors. The black base seemed to suck the light into it, and the grey ribbons fluttered in the slight breeze. She scooped it off of the step and wondered if Pitch realized that someone could have stolen it.

  She could use that as an excuse. Wren could tell him that she never got any of his notes or that she had waited for the referenced box, but it never showed up. Except he’d probably know that she was lying. He knew how to sniff out lies like a bloodhound on a manhunt.

  Sighing, Wren tucked the letter into the back of her jeans and flipped her store sign off. Someone had fixed the letters so that they all worked, probably Burke with his endless amount of money trying to sway her to take the job he offered.

  He said he didn’t have much time for her to change her mind, yet he was still here. She avoided speaking to him. He avoided listening to her. It worked out well for the two of them. It wasn’t working out for what he needed her to do.

  Wren could tell that he was pushing her. Burke made himself more available. He asked the question more often, he put himself in the way of her and her customers. He was trying to wear her down, and it wasn’t going to work.

  On second thought, this party might be a good idea. Burke wouldn’t be able to get in, because he didn’t have an invitation. Wren had already discovered that Burke could find his way into most places, but she also knew Pitch. He wouldn’t be letting anyone without an invitation in. His security was impressive enough that no one would slip through the cracks.

  She could see Burke stand up from his usual spot in the corner. There was a determined glint in his eye as he started to walk towards her. Apparently, if she was going to sneak away from him then she would have to do it now.

  “Going out for the night, Burke. Enjoy your time off.”

  She didn’t stick around for his response. Wren charged up the stairs and slammed the door behind her. He wouldn’t be ruining her night, and he wasn’t going to be following her. Not this time.

  The box was placed on her table, and she stared at it with a wary expression. Pitch didn’t make a habit of sending her clothing. In fact, he didn’t make a habit of sending anyone anything.

  She was going to kill him if this was a trick.

  Wren reached out a delicate hand to pull on the ribbon. It slithered away from the box with a silken sound. Inside the box was black velvet and another note.

  Wren,

  It’s unusual, I know. Just wear this tonight and find me once you make it to the party. It’s imperative that you are there.

  Don’t argue.

  Pitch

  “I mperative,” she murmured, “big word for you, Pitch.”

  She thought it interesting that he had known she would argue with this. There was a part of Wren that instantly wanted to fight back when someone ordered her to do anything. Pitch was likely one of the few people that understood that about her. She held fiercely to her independence and solitude.

  The velvet was incredibly soft as she stroked the fabric before pulling it from the box. Black velvet dripped off of her table and pooled onto the floor as she held the dress before her. It was more exquisite than anything she had ever seen before in her life.

  Delicate strands of silver had been stitched across the bodice. Tiny gems had been soldered onto the strands as though water droplets were suspended on the webbing the silver had made. The gems glittered brightly even in the dim light of her apartment.

  It was the corset that most concerned Wren. Spider legs created a corset that would hug her ribs once she put it on. They would reach around her ribs from her back where they connected to a flat panel. Silver and metallic, they were clearly enchanted.

  Wren came to her senses rather quickly, and she dropped the dress onto the floor as though it had come alive. She wasn’t going to put something like that on. She wasn’t made to wear something that beautiful or expensive. She’d ruin it. She’d hurt it. She’d look like an idiot.

  She’d…her eyes drifted back towards the dress that she never would have been able to afford. It wasn’t her usual style, but it was so incredibly beautiful.

  She gave in. In just a few moments, she had stripped out of her clothing and was sliding the velvet over her long limbs. The metal legs of the spider opened to allow her to settle the dress, and then they curled around her ribs on their own.

  Magic had always been such a fascinating addition to fashion. Wren smiled as she looked down and saw the matching slits on either side of the dress that exposed her legs. She could feel cold air on her back as she moved. There was nothing but webbing covering the long, pale length of her spine.

  Feeling infinitely beautiful, Wren slid a pair of black leather shitkickers onto her feet. They didn’t particularly go with the outfit, but they were what she had. If Pitch wanted to complain about it then he should have sent her shoes as well.

  The back door wasn’t being watched, though she suspected that if Burke was there he wouldn’t have let her see him. Pitch’s parties were a few blocks away. He liked to live on the edge of society and closer to the slums.

  Those who lived in the slums were the ones that were addicted to his Juice anyways. Soon to be his pills.

  She shook her head as she walked. The idea of putting Juice into pill form was horrendous. Pitch had never understood that Juice was meant to be fun. It was supposed to be like walking down a park or drifting in a canoe on a sunny lake for a little while. Most people couldn’t afford to go on adventures like that anymore.

  Juice was an escape for a few moments or for fun. It wasn’t meant to be something that changed lives or treated illnesses. It couldn’t. They were fleeting emotions that were far too easy to become addicted to.

  Of course, that was probably his idea. Pitch didn’t think of Juice the way Wren did. She was sharing experiences with other people so that they too could have moments that they might never see in their real lives. Pitch wanted people to be deliriously happy on what he could create for them and then spend more money coming back for more.

  M.O.M. didn’t want people like Pitch to sell Juice. Wren wasn’t particularl
y certain that he had the same license she had or even a license at all. The government didn’t want their people to be addicted to emotions but knew how important they were to their magical community. They regulated the usage strictly.

  The market was about to get saturated. She supposed that it was going to be time soon for her to think of something else to do. People weren’t going to want exotic emotions like adventure when they were already spending their paychecks just to be happy.

  Her lip curled at the thought.

  There were enough herbs in her room that she might be able to set up some kind of witchery shop. She’d have to expand a bit and change around the store, but it was possible. There were enough magical creatures around. Dealing with them would be a little more dangerous than what she was used to, but it was possible.

  There was no way she was going to consider taking the job Burke had offered her. It was impractical and likely more dangerous than her current situation.

  She walked up to the door that led into Pitch’s warehouse. There was no line, but then there never would be. Pitch didn’t want anyone who wasn’t invited knowing where they were. A burly guard stood at the door with patches of skin that were grey and rough as stone.

  “Wren Rowan.”

  “Who?”

  She sighed. “Wren.”

  He looked down at the clipboard in his hand. His bulbous eyes squinted down at the paper as he struggled to read. Wren could see that he was having a little bit of trouble, so she leaned over him to point at her name.

  “Ah. Thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  Gargoyles had terrible eyesight. At least the human mixed ones did. They were perfectly fine in decent light, but as soon as the night came out, it was a little harder. The gargoyle part of them wanted to be let out, but a body changing from flesh to stone was bound to cause a little trouble.

  She swept past him through the door that led to a massive crowd of people, which were packed shoulder to shoulder. This was what she had been looking for. The ability to disappear entirely for a few moments as more interesting people overpowered her existence.