Salvage: Book 3 of the Magic Mutations Series

24: Lukas

May, 2019

In the week that followed Emma agreeing to move in, I found myself fully able to put the past behind me. Though this was largely because the present was full of so many other concerns.

When I entered the Hammersmith House on Friday afternoon, having spent the day finishing off one of my last business assessments, the smell of fruity blood immediately met my nose as I stepped into the foyer.

At once, I dropped my bag, kicked off my shoes, and tracked the scent down to the medical room. On my way, it was hard to not notice the drops of blood on the floorboards, leaving a breadcrumb trail for me to follow.

Please tell me this is another nightmare, I couldn't help but beg as I made it to the basement level and stopped in front of the closed door. Red liquid coated the silver handle, with flecks of crimson tainting the white paint on the wood.

To prepare myself for what I might find, I took a deep breath before I pushed the door open.

An overwhelming, mouthwatering scent consumed the air, taking over my senses before I could focus on the sight. But once I did...

"What happened?" I demanded as I rushed to Emma's side. She clutched a gauze to her arm as various shades of red (maroon, scarlet wine, and flecks of brown) from the oxidation of her blood flowed down her copper-coloured flesh.

"Nothing to worry about," she sighed as though the amount of blood oozing from her arm wasn't alarming. "Got hit with two at once and the first knocked my healing potion from my hand before I could use it while the other took good chunks out of me."

With narrowing eyes, I glanced back at Erica who was busily throwing together a potion on the table while Emma sat here bleeding out.

"This won't do," I said.

"What won't?" she pressed.

But I responded by gently touching her hand with mine, attempting to pry her hold up.

"I'm fine," Emma tried to stress, fingers not budging from their grip on her arm.

"Your blood is all over the house and on the floor, and your face is turning slightly pale..."

"I'll live until Erica's done."

"She's got at least another twenty minutes on that potion. Let me look at it."

"No," she grumbled as I tried to lift her fingers again, head turning away from me as she pouted her lips.

"Let me help you."

"I don't need your help."

"Everyone needs help, Emma. And you can at the very least accept it from—"

"I don't want your help. Because I know what you're going to suggest."

My tugs went still. Ever so slowly, I removed my hand from on top of hers—as if leaving her too quickly would explode the final shreds of stability I had left. It was another blow from her this week. Another sign that something between us wasn't right... not since she left the morning after agreeing to move in.

What changed?

Did thinking about it for longer make her realise she wasn't ready to commit to me?

Had I said or done something the night before that had upset her?

Or was I just simply someone people were always bound to eventually run from?

"You know I don't want you drinking from me," she whispered, unable to meet my deflated gaze. She knew what she had done with her words; that the parts of me clinging on to hope had now been sliced. Yet she didn't even make any move to retract them.