Red Blood (Series of Blood Book 2)

by Emma Hamm

  This meeting needed to be completed sooner rather than later. Lyra wasn’t certain how long she could manage. The walls were already closing in around her.

  “Satisfied?” she asked him.

  He was staring at her hands as though he had never seen the appendages before. Or perhaps he was simply horrified that she was shaking. She slid her hands back under the table.

  Mismatched eyes followed her movements. He knew. He had to know that there was something wrong. Again she was struck by how odd the human in front of her was. He saw too much. He understood too much to be just a Red Blood.

  “Let’s get this over with.” She cleared her throat to bring his attention back to her. “You said we could trade information.”

  “Yes. My employer is very curious about what you know.”

  The waitress interrupted them for a moment with a new plate for Lyra. She could almost feel the anger radiating off of the other woman. The plate likely cost more than Lyra’s entire outfit. Why had she picked this place again?

  Hell if she knew.

  “Your employer.” She nodded. “The Graverobber. I have a few questions about him as well.”

  “Understood. For that information you will tell me all you know about Malachi.”

  She could almost hear the crickets chirping in her brain. Or maybe that was the moth whispering in her ear as it shifted. She could hear her team murmuring but chose to ignore whatever they had to say.

  “You know Malachi?” she asked him.

  “Not personally, I have not had the pleasure.”

  “It is no pleasure.” She spat the words at him. “That monster needs to be destroyed.”

  “Is that so? I believe the Graverobber would rather make that decision on his own.”

  Wolfgang leaned back in his chair as though he owned the place. He wore a black shirt today. No less fine than any of the others she had seen on his body. Silver buttons danced down the long curve of his chest and disappeared into the waistband of wonderfully tight pants. Lyra’s eyes caught on a sparkling earring in his left ear.

  “I hadn’t imagined you to be the kind of man who wore jewelry.”

  His hand lifted to touch his ear. “I’m open to new things.”

  “The Graverobber would be a fool if he sided with Malachi.”

  “I didn’t say anything about siding with Malachi.”

  “I know his kind.” Her teeth grit so hard she could hear the grinding. “Malachi is looking for the most powerful creatures he can find. The Lords are the obvious choice, and the Graverobber is one of the most feared Lords.”

  “Is that so?” If she didn’t know better, she would say Wolfgang looked almost proud of her words. “He will be pleased to know that his name has spread so far.”

  “You said you were a Red Blood?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s something off about you.” And there was. She hadn’t noticed it the first few times she had seen him, but the edges around his body were wrong.

  It was the only word she could think of. Wrong. The edges that usually defined the lines around a person weren’t there for him. Sometimes she thought he was solid and then other times it appeared as though a part of him would dance away from her eyes.

  “Working for a Lord can do that to you.”

  “I imagine it could.” She brooded as she stared at him. Lyra didn’t trust that admission in the slightest. He was hiding something from her, and she intended to find out what.

  “Why shouldn’t the Graverobber side with Malachi?” he asked her.

  “He wants to the end the world.”

  “That could be a good thing.”

  “He wants to kill everyone but himself.”

  “That would be unfortunate.”

  She clenched her hands in her lap. “You don’t seem disturbed by the possibility.”

  “I am not.” He grinned at her. “Those aren’t my decisions to make. There have been countless attempts to end the world, and all of them have failed. Why should I believe this creature has any chance to do so?”

  “Because he is a Void.”

  Finally she managed to wipe the smug smile off of the Red Blood’s face. Shock flickered on his expression before it was smoothed over once more. Lyra ignored Jasper’s angry voice in her ear as he scolded her for revealing too much.

  “All Voids are gone,” Wolfgang corrected her.

  “They aren’t. There are one and a half left in this realm.”

  He arched a brow. “And a half?”

  “Now that’s a secret far too large to admit to you.” She would never give up Wren’s secrets that easily. “Your turn.”

  “My turn for what?”

  “What is the Graverobber?”

  He remained silent.

  “No answer to that one?”

  “No.”

  “Fine. When can I meet him?”

  Again he remained silent. Lyra was beginning to grow frustrated with this human who so clearly thought he was more important than she. He didn’t have any right to ask her to answer questions without giving her a response.

  Her eyes drifted to the line of his shoulder. What should have been a clear defined edge simply…wasn’t. She didn’t know if it was her own vision playing a trick on her or if this man truly wasn’t entirely solid.

  “What are you?”

  Wolfgang smiled then. A slow lazy grin that spread across his full lips and revealed dimples in his cheeks. “You’re wasting your questions to find out more about me?”

  The moth shifted to whisper more angry words into her ear.

  “I don’t think they’re wasted questions,” Lyra murmured. “Somehow I think you are far closer to the Graverobber than you are letting on.”

  He seemed uncomfortable by the close inspection she was giving him. But before her gaze he seemed to lose some of his bluster. “You would be correct. What questions do you have for me?”

  “Are you dead?”

  Wolfgang choked on the air he had drawn in at her question. “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t promise to explain my questions. Are you dead?”

  “No. Not that I am aware of.”

  “You don’t have a solid form.”

  One of his brows arched. “That would be quite the trick. What makes you think that?”

  She fluttered her hand at his shoulder. “That’s what I wasn’t realizing. You don’t appear to be here sometimes. Your form keeps disappearing and reappearing.”

  Only then did he seem truly interested in what she had to say. Gone was the nonchalant man who was ignoring her questions entirely. Instead, he leaned forward with curiosity burning in his gaze. She hadn’t realized how uncomfortable she would feel with the full weight of those eyes upon her. It was almost as though he were peeling back her layers just by looking at her.

  “You are just a Siren, and yet you are far more connected to the magical world than you should be. Why is that?”

  She swallowed. “My life story is not yours to know.”

  “It will be.” He was vehement as he spat the words at her. “I will know that story before all others.”

  Lyra didn’t know how to take that. Those words were possessive, as though he was far more interested in her than he had let on. How could he be?

  Her eyes narrowed. “Brave declaration for a man who has no power.”

  The two of them studied each other once more. Lyra felt as though she had looked at this Red Blood more than any other man. The details of his face were burned into her memory. Fine, delicate crow’s feet fanned out from the corners of his eyes. Faint dusting of stubble covered his jaw and chin. Long fingers drummed against the table with impatience or something else.

  Finally, Lyra broke the silence. “Was there more about Malachi that you wanted to know?”

  “No.”

  “The only reason why you wished to speak with me was to determine what my opinion of the man was?”

  Wolfgang smiled slowly. “Essentially, yes.”

>   “What game are you playing,” she whispered.

  “No game; the Graverobber is curious about you.”

  Lyra froze when he mentioned those words. She knew who owned her contract. She owed a debt to someone whose name was not attached to the Graverobber’s. It made sense that he would come searching for her. It did not make sense that the Graverobber was suddenly interested as well.

  Anger made her careless as she growled, “And why is that?”

  “Curious that you are so insulted by that. There are many females who would be pleased to have one of the Lords interested in them.”

  “Many women are foolish.”

  The moth in her ear shifted until she could hear Jasper yelling at her. “Lyra! Damnit, you’ve got company. Your boy brought in helpers.”

  “What?” she responded as she glared at Wolfgang.

  “I didn’t say anything.” He arched a brow.

  “I thought we said we were coming alone.”

  “We did.” He paused to cock his head. He quickly noticed how tense her body had become. “But you did not follow that rule, did you?”

  “It’s a good thing I didn’t. Your men are coming in hot.”

  “Not my men.”

  She blinked slowly and ignored Jasper’s outraged yelling that the Red Blood was lying. “They aren’t yours?”

  He shook his head and moved to stand up. He wasn’t going anywhere, and she didn’t want whoever was coming to attack them to realize they did not have the advantage of surprise. Despite his declarations that he did not enjoy being touched, she frantically leaned forward to slam her hand down on his wrist.

  Her hand went straight through his and slapped loudly against the table. Once more she was the annoying woman at the corner table making noise, but this time she did not mind. Instead, her jaw fell open as she stared down at her hand, which was now inside his.

  “You’re not real,” she whispered. Her eyes traveled up to meet his horrified expression. “You’re not real.”

  “I’m real.”

  “You’re not a Red Blood.”

  “I am a Red Blood.”

  “Then what are you.” The words were a statement, not a question. He was impossible if he were none of those things. A Red Blood did not have magic, yet magic had made his form corporeal.

  She could hear the door rattle. There were men at the door; she could see them from the corner of her eyes. She didn’t recognize them, and therefore they weren’t something she needed to worry about right now. Wolfgang’s eyes pulled away from hers to stare at the door.

  “We don’t have time to talk right now, Lyra,” he murmured.

  “We have plenty of time. Don’t look at them, look at me.”

  He didn’t.

  Jasper was shouting into her ear to wait for them, that there were seven men and that things were about to get dodgy. That was the way that Lyra preferred life. She was fully capable of fighting seven men and enjoying herself.

  She wasn’t capable of understanding this man in front of her who wasn’t real.

  The door burst open and slammed hard against the wall. Three of the men sprinted into the room. They didn’t bother covering their faces, which made her think that they were over confident that no one was leaving here alive. She had seen this tactic before.

  Two of the men began to take care of the others in the cafe, and the waitress started screaming. One, a larger man dressed entirely in army fatigues, continued to sprint directly towards her.

  “God, I hate men,” she growled.

  Lyra had a few seconds to catch the confused expression on Wolfgang’s face before the man was within range. Her purse was quickly tossed over her shoulder in preparation for the fight. She grabbed an orb from inside her bag and chucked the delicate glass towards the big man.

  It struck him directly in the forehead and burst in a beautiful cloud of grey glitter. He slowed as his vision disappeared for the few moments that Lyra needed.

  Her chair was kicked out from under her as she leapt into motion. She swung her leather clad leg over the table and used it to propel her body into the air. Her long ponytail swung in a graceful arc that spun around her body like a ribbon as her toes pointed. The sturdy leather of her boot connected with the man’s head in a solid crack before he dropped to the ground.

  She followed him, landing lightly in a crouch as she whipped her ponytail back. All in all, it was an impressive showcase of fighting abilities that was supposed to make a very clear point. Men should not fuck with her.

  Somehow they always did though. She wanted the other two men out of this cafe. It was easier fighting in the streets than with tables and innocents in the way.

  “Give me that knife!” she shouted at Wolfgang.

  “Oh so you don’t think I’m real, but I can pick up knives now?”

  “Just do it!”

  A knife was slid across the floor towards her. She picked it up to throw but paused when she saw it wasn’t the knife that was on the table. This blade was well balanced and had a wicked serrated edge.

  “Yours?” she asked.

  “A personal favorite.”

  “Huh, too bad.” She threw the knife towards one of the men and smiled as it sunk deep into his thigh.

  He was close enough that she could reach him before he yanked the blade out of his leg. “That knife is resting against your femoral artery. If you pull it out, you will die.”

  She treasured the shocked expression the man gave her. Patting him lightly on the thigh, she plucked another orb from her purse and cracked it over his head. “Sleep now.”

  There was no time to wait to ensure that the second man was truly drifting off to sleep. He was already sliding to the ground as she stood to survey the damage in the cafe. It was worse than she expected, but the third man was already disappearing through the front door.

  Some of the patrons were crowded into a corner of the room. Fear made people do foolish things, so she pointed at them just in case. “Stay where you are, and do not come out until someone comes and gets you.”

  A few tables were cracked in half. Food splattered the floor, and cracked tea cups were shattered in sharp piles. It was a shame that such expensive things had to be broken because there were men looking for her.

  Lyra didn’t think for a moment that this wasn’t her fault. If they weren’t her men, and they weren’t Wolfgang’s, then these men were coming to bring her to a Lord. She was overwhelmed that so many people were paying for her mistakes. A trickle of water ran down her neck.

  “Lyra.” Wolfgang’s voice made her flinch. She never flinched.

  Time to get her shit together.

  “We have to go out in the street, so they don’t hurt anyone else,” she said unsteadily.

  He seemed to understand there was nothing else he could say. “Lead the way.”

  The words worked magic. Lyra was so startled that she glanced over her shoulder to arch a brow. “You don’t want to be the hero who goes in first?”

  He shrugged. “Why would I? You clearly have this situation handled without me. I’m just here to be the eye candy.”

  She snorted. Eye candy indeed. The man might be pretty, but it was highly unlikely that he wasn’t going to be good in a battle. She had always had a good eye for potential soldiers, and he had a feral look about him. Wolfgang could deny that fact all he wanted, but the glint in his eyes was excitement.

  Lyra knew bloodlust when she saw it. She could feel the same dangerous feeling flowing through her veins as she clenched her hands.

  “You know who they are?” Lyra asked.

  “No clue.”

  “They aren’t sent from a Lord?”

  His eyes glanced towards the window as though he could see them through it. The men were hiding, as they should, but Lyra knew once they stepped out of the door that all hell was going to break loose.

  “They are not from a Lord I recognize.”

  That was a relief but also created yet another problem. If these a
ttackers weren’t from a Lord then there was another rat’s nest for her to figure out. Lyra hated having to use her brain to figure out problems like this. She was a fighter, not a philosopher.

  She threw her hand out as a warning to Wolfgang. “Just stay behind me so I—”

  The large glass window they were standing beside exploded. Shards of glass flew into the air all around them, and Lyra curled into herself to avoid it. She had been beside a window such as this long ago. The pain would be excruciating, and she would be picking tiny slivers out of herself for days after this.

  She could hear Wolfgang shouting as fire burst through the window and engulfed the two of them. He would be fine. He had to be fine because he wasn’t even in the room with her, not really. But she could feel the cold whisper of a touch against her back as though he was covering her body with his.

  Didn’t he know that would do no good? That no matter how hard a ghost tried to save her, fire would always win. It was a terrible way for a Siren to die. Heat and flames would consume a creature meant for the weightless safety of water.

  “Lyra!”

  Her name was shouted by a familiar voice. She didn’t want Jasper to see her like this. She didn’t want his last memory of her to be a charcoaled bit of flesh and bone gasping its last breath.

  But the heat wasn’t touching her. Not really. There was a slight pleasant warmth against her cheeks but no flames eating at the body she meticulously took care of every day.

  She inhaled a gasping breath. Her first in a while as she had been holding her breath. The air tasted like soot against her tongue.

  Eyes blinking open, she stared at the scene around her as though she was looking through water. Warped figures jumped over the window frame and ran towards them. One man was removed forcibly by Burke who had his arm around the man’s throat. A woman was held frozen in place on her knees as Wren’s white eyes stared down at her. Smoke was trailing from Wren’s mouth and pouring itself down the woman’s throat. That was a new trick, Lyra noted. Jasper tossed aside another man and woman as he ran towards her.

  All of the images weren’t right. They were warped and blurry. She blinked a few times to try and bring clarity to her vision, but nothing changed.