Red Blood (Series of Blood Book 2)

by Emma Hamm

  “So it is.” His eyes sparkled as he opened the door and slipped into the darkness.

  Lyra shook her head. The man was insane, clearly. Although she had to admit, she liked this side of him better. Rather than trying to hide from her or break away from her attention, Wolfgang appeared to be more comfortable.

  Maybe it was this place although that didn’t bode well. She always did like the bad ones. Sighing, she stepped into the potion shop with the singular thought on her mind that she was getting in over her head.

  Potion shops were never well lit. Shadows clung to every shape that bulged out from the wall. Cauldrons lined one side of the shop, some of them bubbling with bright green liquid. The earthy smell of herbs assaulted her nose until she sneezed.

  “Watch the potions,” Wolfgang quietly said.

  He must have been waiting for her on the other side of the door. His voice murmuring into her ear was so unexpected that she squeaked and jumped away from him. Her hand palmed the knife at her hip as she spun towards him.

  “Don’t do that,” she scolded.

  “Why not?” he teased as he moved past her.

  “Because the next time I’m going to stick a knife in you.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He sounded far too certain. Lyra had to tell herself not to swipe at him just to make a point. She was an adult. Doing that would be highly uncalled for. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to stare at his back and imagine what it would feel like for her blade to sink between his shoulders.

  “Don’t imagine it either.”

  “I’m not imagining it,” she retorted.

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “I am not!”

  He turned on his heel to stare down at her. Those mismatched eyes were hard to lie to, she’d give him that. He nodded his head towards a curtain. “Go on.”

  “Go on where?”

  “Behind the curtain.”

  She eyed the thick fabric that was covered with a thick layer of dust. She doubted there was anything behind that other than an angry shopkeep. Or maybe that was his plan all along. If she got the Black Market authorities called on her then she wasn’t going to be coming back here anytime soon.

  Her hand raised, and she brushed aside the barrier to reveal another large room. Her eyes widened in shock. This room wasn’t what she expected at all. She expected it to look like the other. Dark, dank, slightly dreary.

  This room felt more cheery than the front of the potion store. There were still cauldrons burping in the corner, but these released bright bubbles that floated through the air and burst in a rush of citrus scent.

  “What in the world?” she murmured as she took in the small circular tables with a myriad of patrons settled around them.

  Women with horns on their heads were gathered around a table with cards in their hands. A snake skinned man sat in the corner with what could only be a Gnome. It even appeared that a Wisp was sitting by himself with a dim light glowing from underneath his skin.

  It was…warm. Everything felt warm and comfortable even though the wallpaper was peeling and they were in a potion shop in the middle of the Black Market. Never in her life had Lyra thought she would see the day when she felt safe in this place.

  Wolfgang walked past her to seat himself at a table. She was still standing in front of the curtain with her mouth gaping open as he beckoned her. Sit down? Here?

  There was nothing else for her to do. She gingerly walked between the tables and wondered if any of the people were going to reach out and grab her. They did not. The men’s eyes lingered upon her a little longer than was necessary and the women cast cold glances in her direction, but these were normal reactions to Sirens.

  Had she jumped into another dimension?

  “No,” Wolfgang replied.

  “Did I say that outloud?”

  “You frequently speak your thoughts, but I don’t think you realize that you do.”

  She blushed a deep scarlet. She wouldn’t be surprised if she was a running commentary on her life. There were a certain amount of words she simply had to say by the end of the day. Otherwise, Lyra was certain she would pop.

  Wolfgang leaned back in his chair with an arm looped over the back. His crisp white shirt stretched across the wide breadth of his chest. Lyra was struck once more with how incredibly handsome this man was. He seemed to know it as well.

  A sparkle in his eye suggested mirth as she looked him up and down. He knew what she was doing, and Lyra couldn’t care less. It was unusual for her to meet a man she was this attracted to. Most seemed to blend into the hundreds of other men she had met. Oh she loved a good bit of manflesh, but she so rarely considered one to stand out.

  He stood out in the strangest way. The tingling sensation under her skin suggested she was attracted, but there was a dull quality to everything about him. She wondered if there was more… The waving lines that had been shaved into the sides of his head were a pattern that sparked a memory. She should know those lines, but couldn’t remember what they meant.

  Her eyes flicked towards his fingers as he started drumming them against the table. Long, fine fingers, she wondered if they had ever seen callouses in their life.

  “No,” he replied.

  “Again?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well it’s a valid question. You have an artist’s hand.”

  “I believe that is a compliment.”

  “To some.”

  He nodded towards her hands which were pressed flat against the worn table. “And yours?”

  Lyra lifted them palm out towards him. She knew very well that there were telltale callouses on her palms. Along the base of each finger and the inner corner of her index finger.

  “A warrior then,” he murmured.

  “Only with knives.”

  He leaned forward to place his elbows on the table, so he could be closer to her. She stared into his mismatched eyes and wondered what could have made him so serious all of a sudden. She was having fun.

  “Why are you here?” Wolfgang asked her.

  “Well.” She leaned away from him. “That’s because one night my parents looked at each other and thought they might like having a child. Spoiler alert, they didn’t-”

  “Lyra.”

  She hated being interrupted. “What?”

  “Why are you in the Black Market?”

  “I’m looking for the Graverobber.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was told to,” she retorted.

  “By whom?”

  “You have very good grammar.”

  “By whom.”

  Now it was her turn to lean into him. She leaned so close that she could only stare at one of his eyes lest she go cross eyed. “I don’t believe that’s any concern of yours.”

  “If it pertains to the Graverobber, it is. I need to know who you’re working for.”

  “So you work for him?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes. Neither wanted to back down and admit that there was a secret they weren’t telling each other. But Lyra could see that he wasn’t telling her something. It was bubbling underneath his skin and bursting in his eyes.

  “Wolfgang. Do you work for the Graverobber?” She reached out a gentle fingertip to his chin. “I would very much like to see him.”

  “You can’t.” He pulled away from her just before she made contact with his skin. She wondered if it would be smooth or scratchy with a light dusting of scruff.

  Sighing, she flung herself back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re making this unnecessarily difficult. You know that, right?”

  “I just work for him. What makes you think I can tell him what to do? He sees no one.”

  “No one? At all? I find that hard to believe.”

  “You haven’t heard the legends of him then.”

  “I try not to believe in legends
.” She winked. “They’re usually far less accurate than people give them credit for.”

  “The Graverobber takes his magic from the world around him. That’s the rumor. That all he is capable of doing is ripped from people around him. He is said to be beast-like, scarred and tattooed until he no longer even looks human.”

  She snorted. “Right. None of us are human, and we all know that’s ridiculous.”

  Wolfgang said nothing. Instead, he arched a brow at her.

  “Wait…” she murmured. “Are you?”

  “Human? Yes.”

  “A Red Blood in the middle of the Black Market.” The thought was nearly enough to set her head spinning. Did he understand the danger he was in? There were people here that would want to tear his head from his shoulders simply because he was weak.

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I cannot take care of myself.” He glared at her.

  “I could kill you.” Lyra had always been blunt in her words. “I could kill you easier than I could kill myself.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  She shook her head. “Of course, that’s why you’re here. You have a death wish. I haven’t read you correctly at all since I’ve met you.”

  “I’m capable of more than you’re giving me credit for.”

  Again, she snorted. “Right. So my name is Lyra. I’m a Siren. Which means that I have a few tricks up my sleeve that no one can ever seem to figure out. I work for the Five. Godly creatures who want to put an end to a rising power that wants to wipe everyone from existence. Including you. That’s who I am, Red Blood. Now show me your card.”

  He followed her words with rapt attention. She appeared to have shocked him by being so honest. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. Lyra thought he would have known by now that she liked making people feel that way.

  She likely shouldn’t have spoken so loudly. The horned women behind her had stopped talking entirely as soon as she mentioned the Five. They were listening and were obviously going to cause a problem in only a few moments.

  “My name is Wolfgang. I’m am the right hand man and mouth of the Graverobber. And I need to know what you know.”

  “I’m almost hurt that you weren’t here for me. I was hoping you’d ring.” Lyra couldn’t help but jab at him. She was hurt. She liked to think of herself as a catch, and yet this man had somehow managed to convince her that she wasn’t.

  Her ego was far too fragile to be around him.

  “I’ll bring you to the Graverobber if you can give me the information I need,” he told her slowly.

  She couldn’t make this decision. No matter how adorable those eyes were or how much she wanted to see if she could fit her hands around his biceps, Lyra knew that she was easily swayed. That was why she wasn’t usually wandering around on her own.

  Other than in the Black Market. Here they always wanted her to go alone. She had likely ruined any other chance at coming back here now that she had admitted who she worked for. Sirens were acceptable. Sirens with a conscious weren’t.

  “I’ll consider it,” she said. “But I’m not telling you anything in here.”

  “We’re safe enough.”

  “We’re not.” She slowly stood up. Lyra didn’t need to have better than average hearing to know that the Wisp had stood up at the same time as her. This was a situation she understood far better than a quaint little coffee shop in the middle of a potion shop. This had been a set up the whole time.

  She arched a brow at him.

  Wolfgang shrugged. “Precautions are always a good idea.”

  “I’m hurt.”

  “You said yourself, you could kill me better than you could kill yourself.”

  “Not better. Easier.” A shadow crossed over her face as though this was an ending she had considered for herself multiple times. “I’ll meet you outside the Black Market where neither of us has the advantage.”

  “I have no advantage here.” He almost seemed insulted.

  “I can feel your people’s breath on the back of my neck. I came here with you because I was curious, and you brought reinforcements in case the Siren got a little bit too rowdy for you to handle.”

  Anger made her words careless. She knew this kind of treatment; she had known it her entire life. That he would resort to such manners made her heart hurt. Lyra hated it when her heart hurt.

  A droplet of water leaked out of her ear. It dripped down the long line of her neck and down the cord of muscle until it slid over her shoulder. This was a warning sign. The first step until she lost her mind entirely.

  “I believe we both have mutual goals,” he said. Comfortable and relaxed, he tipped his chair back onto two legs.

  “Your employer might.” She gritted through her teeth. “My goals are my own. Now if you don’t mind calling off your dogs, I will see you later.”

  As she turned on her heel, he tsked. “You haven’t set up a place to meet yet.”

  She didn’t turn back around. Lyra knew that the sight of him leaning against the chair with his arm up would set her off entirely. She didn’t want to get so angry that she lost control. Not for herself but for all the people here who didn’t deserve to be in pain.

  “The coffee shop on Fifth and Main tomorrow at noon,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  “I don’t particularly like the coffee there.”

  “Then drink tea.”

  She walked out of the room. She could feel the deceit lingering upon her body and mind. A snake’s den could not have been more dangerous for her. It had been beautiful, light, airy and safe in that room. Lyra should have known better than to entertain that idea.

  She more than anyone else understood that dangerous things came in beautiful packages.

  No one bothered her as she left the shadows of the potion shop. The cracked pavement seemed to grasp at her heels. Giselle was waiting at her shop with a smirk on her face that made Lyra wonder whether or not she had recognized Wolfgang.

  “Thanks for the warning,” Lyra growled as she walked past the shop. “I won’t be forgetting that any time soon.”

  Giselle snuck back into her shop. The Troll should know better than to anger a Siren. Lyra would make certain that payback was delivered a thousand fold.

  Both the Troll and Wolfgang had better sleep with both eyes open. Otherwise, they would be waking up with Lyra seated on their chests and hell on their doorstep.

  Chapter 4

  “Don’t look at me like that, Mungus,” the Graverobber’s deep voice murmured.

  The skeleton was, again, standing in the corner of his workshop. It was severely staring at him while he poured over the inner workings of what used to be an enchanted toad. The Graverobber was certain that the creature was naturally born, not cursed, and intended to find proof of that.

  He found it damn hard to work when a skeleton was staring towards him with a morose expression on its skull. He tried to stare at the piece of toad that was stretched out on his desk. He tried to focus on the threads of magic that were strung like banners between the pieces.

  And yet he couldn’t.

  Sighing, he pushed away from his desk and turned towards the skeleton. It did not move when he leveled an angry gaze in Mungus’ direction. Some said the Graverobber was capable of leveling a creature to ash with just a glance. But none of the runes on his body were glowing; so therefore, the skeleton remained safe.

  “What? What do you want?”

  The empty gaze turned from staring directly at the Graverobber to staring at the note stuck on his wall.

  His study wasn’t a professional looking room. There were many notes that fluttered whenever a person passed by them stuck on the stone wall. Books were stacked upon every surface that could hold their weight, and the floor was littered with them. His desk could hardly be seen beneath the groupings of magical objects that rested atop each book stack.

  Yet the Graverobber knew exactly which note the skeleton was staring at.

  “You know that we
need the information she has.”

  There was no argument. He didn’t want to argue with a creature that couldn’t talk. The skeleton did not move and continued to stare at the note as though he thought it was a bad idea.

  “I can’t help it that the only people who know about this Malachi are the Five. If she works for them then we don’t need to go directly to them.”

  The skeleton’s head turned towards him.

  “No, don’t argue with me like that, Mungus; it’s rude. The girl won’t hurt anyone. She’ll tell him everything and then she’ll be left sitting at the cafe without anyone being harmed in the process.”

  He turned back towards his desk and stared at the enchanted toad. The skeleton must have known it was dismissed. The Graverobber had more important things to do than argue with a dead man. He picked up two needle-like tools to see whether or not he could prod the largest strain of magic.

  A rattling noise made his hand quiver just before he touched the electric line.

  “Mungus!” he shouted. “Why do you persist upon being the bane of my existence?”

  He stood from his desk to stomp towards the skeleton. “What, pray tell, could be so important that you are standing in the corner of my study as the remains of a coward?”

  The skeleton’s hand pointed towards the note on the wall behind Wolfgang.

  “You don’t have eyes left, I understand. But that note is not important!” He spun around, ripped it off of the wall and read it aloud. “Meeting at Fifth and Main at high noon. Girl will tell all information about Malachi in return for meeting the Graverobber.”

  The last sentence slowed until he finally whispered the name at the end. Only then did he understand the skeleton’s fear. His eyes looked up to stare directly into the holes where Mungus’s eyes used to be.

  “Ah. Right.”

  He turned with the note in hand and started to pace. “The girl can’t meet me. That’s not acceptable. Look at me!”

  The skeleton followed the Graverobber’s hand as it moved up and down, even though Mungus should not be able to see. It was true that the Graverobber was little more than a man on death’s door.

  “Never mind the scars. There are many more intimidating creatures. Trolls. Basilisks. Shapeshifters. Even Ogres! The girl has likely seen all of them if she spends time in the Black Market,” he murmured.