Blue Blood (Series of Blood Book 3)

by Emma Hamm

  “It was a woman.”

  “What?”

  “Malachi sent me to retrieve a woman, and I couldn’t just leave her there.”

  She moved, the soft sound of fabric his only indicator. Skittering pebbles near his head told her where she was. Closer than before. “What did she look like?”

  “Never seen anything like her before. Red hair, tan skin, impossible eyes.”

  “Sparkly,” Bluebell added.

  He didn’t recall her being particularly shimmery, but his memory was unreliable at best. Hunger always distracted him.

  Ella rolled her eyes. “Wow, you are so descriptive. That could be any number of people, when you think about it.”

  “Could it?” He wouldn’t really know. He didn’t usually have a habit of staring at random women on the streets. “Why do you want to know so badly anyways?”

  “Because I think they brought her back with you.”

  “We’ll probably never see her again then.” Guilt churned his stomach to bile and gnawed at his spine.

  “You’ll probably see her. She’s only three cells down, across the way.”

  He lurched up. “What?”

  “What?” Bluebell echoed.

  Ella had her arms wrapped around her legs, but she raised one hand to point behind him.

  Slowly, he turned his head, and saw bright streaks of red spilled in a cell. She was crumpled on the ground like a dead flower. Unmoving, but unmistakable.

  “Thank the gods,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think they’d bring her back with us.”

  “Why not?”

  “We went through a lot of trouble to get her. I didn’t think Malachi would put something he so obviously values in with the rest of us.”

  He stood on shaky legs and made his way to the other side of his cage. She was well out of reach, but he could see her. Hair tumbled over her tanned arms, and a strong hand had relaxed while reaching in his direction.

  He felt a strange connection with this woman, though he couldn’t explain it. Perhaps it was because he had dug her out of the ground and held her in his arms. He had been the first person she had seen.

  Fairies were notoriously selfish creatures, but Jasper had never walked that path. His desire to protect outweighed his natural tendencies. Most of his life had been spent saving others and putting his own body on the line. This instinct raged when he looked at this woman. He didn’t want her to be afraid. He didn’t want her to be in danger.

  He had saved her, but he couldn’t protect her. It was maddening.

  He kept his gaze upon the flame colored hair that still sparkled with light even in this dark place. The movement at the corner of his eye didn’t immediately register until he noticed Ella had retreated to the back of her cell.

  “I see you have brought back my prize.” The voice drifted towards him as though from a nightmare. Malachi.

  “Oh no,” Bluebell murmured, disappearing into the cracks of his mind.

  Jasper wanted to close his eyes, but if he did, he wouldn’t be able to watch the woman. So, his gaze flicked towards Malachi who now stood near his cage. “I did. Now are you going to hold up your end of the bargain?”

  Malachi smiled. “You don’t seem like you wish to leave. You’re fairly salivating over my newest conquest.”

  Jasper had no response. Of the many things he wished to say, few wouldn’t result in pain or death. He felt obligated to stay. He wanted to be here, not only for the redhead but also for Ella. For all of the creatures Malachi had locked up.

  If he were offered a chance to leave, Jasper would take it, if only to gather his friends and tear this place to the ground. He would not be satisfied until this building was little more than dust and rubble.

  Malachi’s shoes clicked on the stone floor as he meandered towards the woman’s cell. He sank into a graceful crouch, peering at the redhead like a man at a zoo.

  “She’s a rather beautiful thing, is she not?”

  Jasper gritted his teeth. “Our deal?”

  “It’s rare that I get a prize such as this in my personal collection. There are many here who are passable. The Unicorn at your side is one of my most valuable prizes. But this one…” Malachi paused to smack his lips, “she’s quite the unusual little thing.”

  “You said you would release me,” Jasper growled.

  Malachi sighed and slowly rose to his feet. He brushed invisible dirt off his perfectly pressed pants. “If there is one thing you should learn about me, Jasper, it is that I lie.”

  Red rage roiled through Jasper. Bluebell had been right, and he had known better than to accept a deal from a devil of a man. He had expected to be dragged through the dirt, to face death, but he had still given Malachi the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was more like Ella than he thought. He, too, wanted to believe there was good in everyone.

  He grasped the iron bars, staring through smoke rising from his burning palms. “You will regret that.”

  “I don’t think I will,” Malachi said while grinning. “In fact, I got what I wanted. You gathered this perfect little treat for me. I lost none of my men because you were pure enough of heart to get close to the World Tree. And should I ever need the power to teleport, I have you in my menagerie.”

  “You will not get away with this!”

  “I already have.” Malachi’s grin widened, and he turned on his heel to walk away.

  “And Lyra?” Jasper shouted. “Will you at least let her go?”

  Bluebell stirred in his mind. “Oh, Jasper.”

  Malachi’s shoulders shook. They rocked up and down until a booming laugh burst forth. It was a dark and ugly sound.

  “Of course. I had forgotten I told you that.” Malachi wiped a false tear from his eye. “No, Jasper. I never had any of your friends locked away. The circumstances in which I captured you would be too difficult to repeat. But you certainly fell into my trap very easily.”

  “And the woman?”

  “What woman?”

  Jasper pointed. Her hair fanned out from her head like blood flowing over the stone floor.

  “Oh.” Malachi shook his head. “One day, she will become very useful to me. Until then, she’ll remain here. Alive, at the very least.”

  He left. Malachi walked away from Jasper as though he had not just pulled the rug out from under him.

  Jasper peeled his raw, bleeding hands from the iron bars and stumbled backwards. His friends were safe. He waffled between intense relief and self-deprecating anger. He had been foolish. Idiotic. A complete and total dumbass who should have listened to the voice in his head the first time.

  He had trusted the world’s greatest enemy. He had condemned an innocent to suffer the same fate as him.

  “Jasper?” Ella’s voice was quiet and gentle.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He tried not to growl. It wasn’t Ella’s fault that he had been a fool.

  “You brought her here,” Ella softly told him. “And it is likely she will be angry. But she is no longer in the World Tree. That has to count for something.”

  “You know I didn’t do her any favors. I brought her to her death.”

  “And you don’t know how long she had been locked away. Wherever she was, it was not a place she willingly chose to be.”

  Jasper shook his head. “There is no way to know that for certain.”

  “When was the last time you heard of a creature who willingly went to prison? I heard them talking. That is a prison unlike any other, I cannot believe she was there by her own choice.”

  “Is it better to be locked away and blissfully ignorant, or to be aware of your own impending demise?”

  “That’s not your decision to make for her. You can’t carry the burden of her choices. You freed her. It’s up to her to decide whether that is a gift or a curse.”

  Theoretically, she was right. But the heavy weight bearing down upon his chest made it hard to breathe.


  Jasper didn’t respond. Instead, he turned away and dropped to the ground. It offered little comfort.

  Not that he deserved any comfort.

  “You can’t blame yourself for everything,” Bluebell told him.

  “This was my fault. I should have left her.”

  “I don’t want to hear you complain anymore. It is done. You feel guilty because you are powerless to stop whatever is coming. Not because you did anything wrong.”

  How long had he been surrounded by so many intelligent women? First Lyra told Jasper he was wrong, then Ella, and now Bluebell? He should be paying more attention.

  He remained silent for a while. Rolling onto his back, he closed his eyes, hoping that a dream might calm him. Instead, his mind churned with memories of green plants and tall trees.

  All around him, the sound of prisoners settling down to sleep echoed. It was the only thing they could do in the cages. There was barely enough room to pace.

  The others quieted and, as always, the silence was damning. Stillness not unlike death fell over the rows of cells.

  Then he heard the sound — the barest hint of movement. Nothing unusual. People moved in their sleep. But the crackle that followed made him turn his head.

  She had moved. His mystery woman lay flat on her back with her arms at her sides. Strong, lean arms currently covered in flames.

  The fire licked up her sides as though dancing. Arcs of light in yellows, reds, and oranges, so bright that she glowed like the sun. He wanted to devour the sight of her, but it hurt his eyes.

  The strangest things danced upon her skin. Birds — made out of heat and air — lifted into flight, disappearing as they flew too far from her. Fish swam up her arms and through the curling waves of her hair. A fiery stallion galloped down the bridge of her nose, leaping from the tip to vanish in her cleavage.

  He pulled himself toward her, drawn like a moth to a flame. He had never seen someone control their powers so completely in their sleep.

  She stirred, and he froze. Her odd eyes opened. She exhaled long and loud, as though she hadn’t breathed in centuries.

  “Darkness?” Her voice was not what he expected. He had thought she would sound as musical and graceful as her fire appeared. But her voice was nearly destroyed, little more than a croak with a raspy undertone. She did not speak with the smooth, oil slick fire of her magic. She spoke with the ashen remains left in the wake of a wildfire.

  “You’re safe,” he told her after a few beats of silence. “You’re with us.”

  “Who speaks?”

  “My name is Jasper.”

  “You sound familiar,” she murmured. “Like a voice from a dream.”

  “I woke you.”

  She stopped breathing. The dancing flames died down until all that remained was a lizard attached to her shoulder. “You?”

  He didn’t think she wanted an answer, but he felt compelled to respond. “Me.”

  “I cannot see you.”

  “It is dark here. I’m to your right.”

  She turned her head, and he was nearly struck dumb when her ombre eyes stared into his soul. “Fae.”

  Jasper had forgotten his wings were exposed. They should have been flattened to his spine, but that was uncomfortable. He had grown too comfortable with them. The blush heating his cheeks nearly burned as hot as her flames. “Yes.”

  She shook her head and turned away, muttering to the lizard. Strange. He hadn’t expected her to be coherent upon waking. Fear or panic were reactions he expected. But this? She was stone cold and stoic.

  He furrowed his brows. A dark undertone raced through his thoughts — flashes of his past burning painful and angry. Repressing any sort of emotion rarely ended well for a magical creature.

  Jasper cleared his throat. “Are you frightened? We are safe for the time being.”

  She stopped talking abruptly and cocked her head ever so slowly to stare at him. Her ombre eyes burned. “I am not frightened.”

  “I would be,” he said honestly. “You woke up in a prison. Twice now.”

  A small wrinkle formed between her brows. “Am I supposed to be frightened by that?”

  “Most people would be.”

  She waved a hand in the air. “A prison is like any other room. It can be destroyed.”

  “Destroyed?” He shook his head. “How can you destroy something like this?”

  She raised her hand, watching as it burst into flames. Heated colors blazed up her wrist and licked the air. “I have never seen anything survive the fire’s hunger.”

  “Stone? Water? There are many things that can stop fire.”

  She shook her head, and the flames disappeared. “Water will boil. Stone will crack. I do not expect you to understand.”

  “I’d like to.” He placed a hand against his chest. “My name is Jasper. What’s yours?”

  Fine wrinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes. Her rosy lips moved, but no sound escaped. She turned to the lizard, which bumped its head against her cheek.

  “Mercy,” she whispered.

  “I am sorry I—”

  “My name is Mercy.”

  A contradictory name, he supposed. He had expected her to beg for mercy, to plead for someone to help her. He had expected that. But this woman was plotting destruction without even standing from the ground. She certainly wasn’t what he had expected.

  Jasper couldn’t help himself. He had to speak again. “Mercy is a lovely name. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  She did not respond.

  “Where are you from?”

  No response.

  “Why were you locked away in the World Tree?”

  She looked away from him.

  “Then how did you survive this long?”

  She shrugged one shoulder, so he tried one more time.

  “How did you survive this long?”

  She curled in on herself. He saw the lizard’s head peek out of her shirt. Its back caused the fabric to sizzle and turn black as it settled itself against her neck.

  Mercy started speaking again. He couldn’t make out the words, only the quiet lull of her raspy voice.

  Perhaps she was not ready to face what had happened to her. He could understand that, but she was his responsibility since it was his fault she had been dragged into this nightmare. Eventually, she seemed to relax.

  Jasper guessed she was an Elemental. They were a strange lot, too emotional and easily angered. They usually died young because their human body could not handle the amount of magic that came directly from the earth itself.

  So maybe she wasn’t an Elemental. Whatever she was, it was likely her mind had been lost in the tangled roots of the World Tree.

  He lay down to rest only once the flames began to dance upon her body again. He did not know the meaning behind the fire, but he could guess it meant she was asleep. There were worse things than using your powers whilst dreaming.

  Mercy dreamt of flames.

  Powerful, burning, aching, destroying; they devoured her body and soul. She was not human. She was not creature. She was not even the fire coursing in her veins and turning her mind to ash.

  Mercy was something else entirely.

  She licked her lips in the dream, hoping it might ease her discomfort. It did not. She was always thirsty, always drifting on a wave of heat.

  The worst part was how aware she was of walking in a dream. Even free from the World Tree, she had not escaped the prison of her nightmares. This was only another journey to endure.

  Any other might have gone mad. She remembered clearly from school that REM sleep was important — without dreams, the brain would not be able to process new information.

  It, like many things, needed to rest. Her mind was never given that opportunity. But then, she didn’t need it.

  Mercy sat in the midst of hellfire and brimstone while her body slept, elbow propped on her knee and chin resting on her fist. She stared into the bright flames and they burned their images in
to the back of her retinas.

  The most important thing in the dream was not herself or the fire, but the creature that lived alongside them.

  “Ignes?” she asked. “Are you quite done yet?”

  The flames twisted and warped as though in a tornado. From the funnel a shape formed. Vaguely humanoid and masculine, it stood long and tall before her.

  “You want to speak while you should be resting?” Ignes’s gravelly voice echoed from the flames.

  “Who is he?” Mercy asked.

  “I do not know.”

  She huffed out a breath, and a few tails of fire escaped her mouth. “How do you not know who he is?”

  “I am not an Oracle.”

  “You know more than I.”

  The shape grew taller until it nearly touched the heavens. “I have been allowed to wander, but not to know all.”

  “He is dangerous.”

  “You do not know that.”

  She stood and paced. “I feel it. I feel that he is dangerous, and I worry about what he is capable of.”

  “Nothing. He is Fae.”

  “That means very little. You know this as well as I.”

  Her heart pounded against her ribs. She neither liked this feeling nor understood what it meant. She had been alone and silent for two hundred years. And now? This Fairy had held her with gentle hands and stared down at her with green eyes. Green like the forests falling beneath her flames. Green like emeralds melting beneath her fingers. Green like beetle wings screaming as they burned.

  Ignes shuddered and warped, taking the form he preferred above all. His flames rearranged themselves into a massive Firedrake. His huge scales shimmered, and his long wings of fire spread their great length. He was not an actual Firedrake, but he had always longed to be one.

  “You are frightened of him because he makes you uncomfortable,” he said. “That does not make him dangerous to us.”

  “I don’t like these feelings. I am off-balance. Nervous. It is strange and not something I enjoy.”

  “And is it any wonder? Truly, Mercy, you have been locked away for two hundred years with just me inside your head. Sometimes not even me, when I wander. You haven’t spoken to anyone else in a very long time.”

  She clenched her fists. It did not help. She only succeeded in clutching the fires harder, forcing them blue and then white.