Authors: Mari Arden
Flame (Fireborn)
Mari Arden
FLAME
Book
One of Fireborn
"Flame" Copyright ©
2013 by Melinda Yang
All rights
reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and
retrieval system without written permission of the author, except in
the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and
reviews.
This book is a
work of fiction. Any references to historical events or real people
are used fictitiously. Other names, characters and incidents are
products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual
events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
To my parents - who, by living their dreams, showed me how to live
mine.
To
YOU for picking up this book and beginning this journey with me.
I don't have long to
live.
I'd never thought about
the way I would die before, but if I had, it wouldn't be like this.
Alone. In the darkness. Drained.
They told me that I
didn't come from this earth. They were only half right. My people
were born somewhere else far away. When we arrived we remembered who
we were. We remembered the glow and the fire. We remembered the
blood. Our purity was gone, but our fight for survival was not.
We were marked. Our
blood was black as ash, but they didn't truly understand what we
were, and the things we were capable of.
It was the law in every
race on every planet only the strong survived. He was weak, the one
who saved us all. He was feverish in the head, and his eyes were
bright with something that no one could understand. He heard the
voices from underground, and he followed them like petals to the
wind.
The nameless one with
chaos in his mind had outwitted the gods.
He had a secret, made
of fire, bones, and flesh. He helped me to leave clues in the wind,
and swept them across the world.
He was waiting for the
day when the undying one would die.
* * *
"You got the
money?" The voice is rough, and unnatural.
He smiles dazedly at
him.
Cold eyes glare back.
A thought crosses his
mind that he should be scared, and he feels a slight tremor run
through his body. The only thing keeping him upright is the rush of
adrenaline from the E-bomb he'd snorted earlier.
He hands the cloaked
figure the rolls of Benjamins from his jacket pocket. Fifteen
thousand dollars. That's how much his sister gave. There are some
hundreds missing he used to pay off his dealer, but it was worth it.
He couldn't stand here with the delivery tonight if he'd gotten
jumped now could he? Large hands count the hundred dollar bills. He
sees the exact moment the man realizes some money is missing. He
gulps.
"Hey, man, chill,
I can get you the rest later." He attempts to sound cool, but
his voice sounds weak and pleading. In the silence, one thought
whispers in his mind: he should've snorted more. His heart's pounding
now, but it isn't from the drug. It's from fear.
He peers into the
voluminous hood, but the deep shadows make it impossible to see
inside. Silence emanates from the cloaked figure like a threat. He's
reminded yet again of how secluded they are from the city. The
nearest road is over a mile away, and the cabin behind them looks old
and dilapidated. The trees are bare and the ground barren. The winter
breath has wiped it all away. Everything about where they are is
desolate and wrong. Even the euphoria from the drug can't hide the
tense atmosphere.
When the hooded figure
speaks, his voice rumbles with tightly controlled anger. "The
deal was fifteen thousand and not a penny less."
He takes a step back.
"I don't know what type of deal my sister and her crazy husband
made with you, but-"
"The
deal
,"
the man repeats again with lethal precision, "was fifteen
thousand
and not a penny less
."
"Hey man," he
takes another step back. "You can trust me. I can get you that
money back. If you would just wait a few days-"
"Wait?" The
dark figure's voice continues in a low tenor, but weighs more deadly
than yelling. The smirk is felt even though he can't see it. "You
don't know who you're dealing with, do you?" The cloaked figure
stares hard at him. "In fact, I don't think you know
what
you're dealing with." A chuckle escapes dried, cracked lips.
The sound sends cold
shivers down his spine.
Something is very wrong here,
he
realizes with growing unease. Every instinct tells him to flee, but
he can't move. His feet are cemented to the ground, immobile and
heavy. Suddenly, a strong hand shoots out, grabbing his neck with
force.
"Your sister kept
you in the dark about a lot of things, it seems." He's rasping
for breath, but the hand is ruthless.
"Where is the
package?" the figure asks so softly he almost doesn't hear it.
"B-b-b-ack
th-e-re," he pants, his hands clawing at the force holding his
life. "In the car." His attacker squeezes for a second
more, taking a perverted delight in his suffering. When he's
released, he falls to his knees, gasping for air. The hooded figure
watches him with detached interest.
"Bring it to me,"
the stranger commands. Then he adds, "If you try to run, I will
find you. And you will be very, very, sorry."
He knows it isn't an
empty threat.
He stumbles away,
terrified. What kind of crap had his sister gotten herself into? But
that thought is brushed aside with the nauseating smell of fear. This
is the only thing his sister had ever asked him to do, so he's doing
it. But after this, he's going to drive far, far away and never look
back.
He pulls the car door
open, and stares at the small box containing his sister's most
precious possession.
Her daughter.
His niece.
The "package"
that needed to be delivered. He uses both hands to carry her. She's
awake, and staring at him with wide eyes. He met her for the first
time a week ago, and in that time he'd grown close to her. Well, as
close as a person like him could, anyway. A wave of sadness washes
over him as she coos to him. He shakes it off and continues forward
to the scariest man he's ever seen. If he hadn't promised his sister,
he would've ran with the baby right then, but he doesn't. She'd
looked desperate when she made him promise. And he loved her, so he
agreed.
He hears crickets and
owls in the darkness, but the baby is oddly silent. Maybe she's
starting to sense fear. He sure as hell recognizes it. When he's in
front of the man, he can't bring himself to let go of the box. Even
through the drug-induced adrenaline pumping through his veins, he's
having doubts about what's happening.
"Give her to me,"
the cloaked figure says, staring at the box he holds.
"What are you
going to do with her?" he asks.
"What your sister
asked me to do, of course." The man moves to take the baby, but
his own fingers tighten around the box.
"Where's my
sister?" he suddenly asks, afraid. Doubt plagues his mind like
darts. Maybe if his sister saw this man she wouldn't allow him to
take her baby. He looks dangerous. Before he can say more, the dark
figure reaches over to pry his fingers loose. The baby is out of his
arms before he can even blink. The large man reaches in with one
hand, and lifts the girl into his arms. The empty box is thrown
carelessly to the ground. In the darkness there is silence as the
cloaked figure stares at her. She is completely still.
Warning alarms ring in
his head.
"Where's my
sister?" he asks again. A growl of anger erupts, and the man's
arm shoots out once more, clasping his neck. This time the pressure
is so intense he sees flashes of light in front of his eyes. The man
had been holding back before, but he isn't holding back now.
"Dead. And you'll
be meeting her in hell." His attacker is literally squeezing the
life out of him. His feet dangle in the air, as breathing becomes
impossible.
The last thing he sees
before his eyes close forever is a bright light, filled with orange
flames. When it goes black, he hears the sounds of fire and smells
burning flesh.
He was no more.
I don't have long to
live.
I'd never thought about
the way I would die before, but if I had, it wouldn't be like this.
Alone. In the darkness. Drained.
They told me that I
didn't come from this earth. They were only half right. My people
were born somewhere else far away. When we arrived we remembered who
we were. We remembered the glow and the fire. We remembered the
blood. Our purity was gone, but our fight for survival was not.
We were marked. Our
blood was black as ash, but they didn't truly understand what we
were, and the things we were capable of.
It was the law in every
race on every planet only the strong survived. He was weak, the one
who saved us all. He was feverish in the head, and his eyes were
bright with something that no one could understand. He heard the
voices from underground, and he followed them like petals to the
wind.
The nameless one with
chaos in his mind had outwitted the gods.
He had a secret, made
of fire, bones, and flesh. He helped me to leave clues in the wind,
and swept them across the world.
He was waiting for the
day when the undying one would die.
* * *
"You got the
money?" The voice is rough, and unnatural.
He smiles dazedly at
him.
Cold eyes glare back.
A thought crosses his
mind that he should be scared, and he feels a slight tremor run
through his body. The only thing keeping him upright is the rush of
adrenaline from the E-bomb he'd snorted earlier.
He hands the cloaked
figure the rolls of Benjamins from his jacket pocket. Fifteen
thousand dollars. That's how much his sister gave. There are some
hundreds missing he used to pay off his dealer, but it was worth it.
He couldn't stand here with the delivery tonight if he'd gotten
jumped now could he? Large hands count the hundred dollar bills. He
sees the exact moment the man realizes some money is missing. He
gulps.
"Hey, man, chill,
I can get you the rest later." He attempts to sound cool, but
his voice sounds weak and pleading. In the silence, one thought
whispers in his mind: he should've snorted more. His heart's pounding
now, but it isn't from the drug. It's from fear.
He peers into the
voluminous hood, but the deep shadows make it impossible to see
inside. Silence emanates from the cloaked figure like a threat. He's
reminded yet again of how secluded they are from the city. The
nearest road is over a mile away, and the cabin behind them looks old
and dilapidated. The trees are bare and the ground barren. The winter
breath has wiped it all away. Everything about where they are is
desolate and wrong. Even the euphoria from the drug can't hide the
tense atmosphere.
When the hooded figure
speaks, his voice rumbles with tightly controlled anger. "The
deal was fifteen thousand and not a penny less."
He takes a step back.
"I don't know what type of deal my sister and her crazy husband
made with you, but-"
"The
deal
,"
the man repeats again with lethal precision, "was fifteen
thousand
and not a penny less
."
"Hey man," he
takes another step back. "You can trust me. I can get you that
money back. If you would just wait a few days-"
"Wait?" The
dark figure's voice continues in a low tenor, but weighs more deadly
than yelling. The smirk is felt even though he can't see it. "You
don't know who you're dealing with, do you?" The cloaked figure
stares hard at him. "In fact, I don't think you know
what
you're dealing with." A chuckle escapes dried, cracked lips.