Winds of Fire (The Arcadia Falls Chronicles #5)

by Malone Wright, Jennifer

  Her mother had spent hour’s intricately braiding miniature white roses into her hair, of which the top half was up and the bottom half she wore loose and flowing down to her waist. Behind her, her mother smiled, tears glinting at the corners of her eyes. “You look just like a fairy tale princess.” She wiped away a tear and fiddled with a few strands of Goldalynn’s hair that had gone astray.

  Goldalynn turned to apply a quick kiss to her mother’s cheek. “Mother. Please, don’t cry for me,” she whispered.

  Goldalynn’s mother tilted her head and admired her daughter again, knowing full well she could not tell her daughter that those were not only tears of joy, but also tears of sadness for the impending despair her daughter would soon face. However, if she chose to marry the boy, then she deserved the most happiness she could have until the terrible day arrived when she would lose him.

  “It’s time,” she told her daughter as the music began, signaling the bride’s entrance. She clasped hands with Goldalynn and they marched forward so she could deliver her daughter into the arms of her soon-to-be husband.

  When the time came to exchange rings, William produced a simple band of gold and held it up so that the sunlight glinted off of it. With happiness shining just as brightly in his eyes, he leaned forward and whispered. “This ring was my great grandmother’s and grandmother’s. My grandmother gave this to me before she passed away and told me to give it to you when we married. Supposedly, it is made from melded fairy dust.” He grinned and slipped it onto her ring finger.

  She held her hand out, examining the ring, and giggled. “William, you know fairies don’t exist.”

  “If it was possible for a woman as beautiful and amazing as you to agree to marry someone like me, then anything is possible, my love.”

  As the ring nestled against the skin of her finger, her body warmed into a slow, smoldering burn. It was magic. She may not believe in fairies, but she did, however, believe in magic and the ring on her finger definitely held some within it.

  After they were pronounced man and wife, William and Goldalynn lived a blissfully happy two months together. So blissful, in fact, that she was able to ward off any paranoia of losing William. It crossed her mind many times, but she always shoved the thoughts away.

  She should have known better…

  She should have listened to her mother…

  One sweltering hot summer day, William went to work at the market in town and Goldalynn thought it would be a thoughtful treat to meet him for a picnic lunch at the park across the street. So, with the utmost care, she packed a picnic basket full of her delicious homemade fried chicken and potato salad. As an afterthought, she added a bottle of wine they had received on their wedding day and then topped off the basket by resting two wine glasses in a cloth napkin over the rest of the contents.

  Her little car sputtered and lurched a bit as she pulled it up to the curb across the street from the market. Before she got out, she spent a moment watching the patrons going in and out. Through the large panes of glass with the market name painted on them, she could see her William running the cash register and laughing with a customer. His blond hair highlighted by the sun shining through the window and his freckles from childhood still prominently spread across his cheeks.

  Unable to hold back a smile, Goldalynn pulled open the door handle and stepped out of the car. After smoothing down the skirt of her yellow sundress, she gathered her purse and basket and then slammed the car door shut. Cars zipped past her while she waited patiently to cross the street. During the brief seconds in between the cars, she watched William though the window. He hadn’t seen her yet and appeared to be directing a customer somewhere in the store, from the looks of his extended arm and forefinger.

  Then she heard the shots. Three distinct shots. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Her basket fell to the ground, its contents spreading across the hot pavement. There was a muffled crash of the shattering wine bottle as it fell from the open top of the basket and hit the pavement. Red wine spread like blood, staining the cement. The air seemed to waver and tighten around her, causing her world to spin. Distant screams filtered into the whirling nightmare her reality had become. The previously calm sidewalk outside the market had quickly become chaotic, with people rushing to and fro in complete confusion.

  Wham! It hit her all at once. Their love hadn’t been strong enough to survive the curse after all.

  Coming back to reality Goldalynn bolted out in front of the oncoming traffic, ignoring the horns and screeching tires coming from the cars as the drivers tried to avoid hitting her. Once she was safely on the sidewalk in front of the market she heard the sirens begin their ominous, wailing song of death.

  She knew what had happened. Deep inside she knew it, but she still had to see for herself.

  “Miss Goldalynn!” Rudy, one of Williams’s employees at the market, came running out, “Don’t go in there ... not yet.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I need … my husband,” she managed to croak out, pointing inside the market.

  Rudy shook his head. “You don’t want to go in there, Miss Goldalynn.”

  “Move, Rudy!” she screamed, blinded by her tears.

  Before Rudy could move, they were both shoved aside by two policemen as they rushed into the market.

  Ignoring anything more Rudy had to say, she hurried in behind the officers. When she entered the market, she forced herself to stop and take a few breaths and thought to herself, Maybe it wasn’t him.

  Her gaze shifted toward counter where William had stood. There, she saw several people surrounding someone on the floor. She couldn’t physically see who it was, but she knew anyway.

  Her heart felt as if it were going to explode in her chest. Each and every step toward the counter, and what was behind it, felt like wading through a muddy swamp. Frantic, her eyes darted back and forth touching on each of the bystanders. Her body flooded with momentary relief when she recognized Shirley, one of William’s employees, standing near. Shirley caught her eye and read the questions in Goldalynn’s dark irises. Silently, Goldalynn begged Shirley to tell her it wasn’t William, and if it was him, that he was all right.

  Shirley, with tears glistening on her cheeks, shook her head in response to Goldalynn’s unspoken question. She hurried over to Goldalynn and held her tightly in a hug, then turned with her arm still around Goldalynn’s shoulders and led her toward the horrific scene her family had been warning her about ever since she could remember.

  More sirens drew closer as she laid her eyes upon the only man she had ever loved.

  Her William lay on the cold tile floor with blood blooming like blackened flowers from the bullet wounds in his chest. The dark stains spread across the floor, pooling around his body.

  Her knees buckled beneath her and she crumpled over his body. Droplets of crimson splattered against the pale yellow sundress, leaving behind morbidly cheery spots of bright red. Her own shouts of denial mingled with the sirens outside as a loud “Noooooo!” erupted from within her.

  Not a minute later, even more policemen and paramedics swarmed the place, asking people to leave and adding to the chaos that already took place in the tiny market. When one of the policemen asked her to move aside, she clutched William’s body harder, refusing to let go of her love. Her shoulders heaved as her panting sobs shook her frail body. Unable to speak, she continued to cling to William.

  “Please ma’am, we need to work here,” the officer gently urged.

  “Get away!” she screamed. “Just go!”

  “Ma’am, this is a crime scene and we need to examine the area.”

  “I won’t leave him, I won’t!”

  It took several policemen to remove Goldalynn from William’s body. They loaded her into an ambulance and took her to the nearest hospital. Once sedated, she was held until her mother arrived.

  And so we arrive at the secondary life changing event for our Goldalynn.


  She would never see him again. She would never hear his laugh again. She would never trace her fingers over his freckles and give him a playful kiss again. He would never call her Goldie again; no one would call her Goldie again.

  He was gone.

  Her mother allowed her to lie in the bed in her old room for days. She understood the pain and hurt her daughter was going through. Her light was gone, she knew William was what had driven Goldalynn in life, and she deserved to be able to mourn him however she chose.

  Goldalynn, on the other hand, her tears had cried out. Where there were once tears shed for love, there was now an emptiness for which she could not weep. And, as the days and nights passed by, that emptiness was replaced by a dark hatred of life. Why would the fates be so cruel, she thought. How could they take him from her?

  If only there were a way to bring him back.

  Suddenly, she sat straight up in bed. Maybe there was a way.

  READ AN EXCERPT FROM SAVIOR

  A FULL LEGNTH NOVEL BY JENNIFER MALONE WRIGHT

  Sweltering heat emanated from the searing flames. Alex ignored his blistered skin and burnt clothes. He plunged both arms into the blazing orange inferno without a second thought for his own well-being. His hands frantically flailed until he found what he searched for. He pulled the charred remains up and hugged them to his chest before he gave a desperate glance toward the others.

  Smoke curled into his mouth and nose and made it nearly impossible to breathe.

  “Hurry, hurry. Get out now,” a gentle voice whispered into his ears. “You must go right now if you want to live.”

  However, he couldn’t leave them behind.

  “Go now,” the voice whispered more urgently.

  Sparks flew when a giant log broke in half and fell from the ceiling. It crashed onto the floor less than two feet from where Alex stood. Flames engulfed the fallen wood and created yet another obstacle.

  The voice tried again, crying out, “Hurry, Alex!”

  Alex knew he needed to move if he wanted to live, but he paused for a moment to question whether he even wanted to bother. The flames grew while Alex stood motionless, undecided. Suddenly, a great push from behind thrust him forward toward a wall of fire.

  ***

  Alex stirred in his mahogany coffin, one of the best money could buy. He felt the soft, white velvet lining rub against his cheek, but it didn't comfort him. He panted like a thirsty dog and writhed helplessly inside the narrow wooden box.

  His eyes snapped open. First, he checked his hands for burns, but he found none. He groaned while he became more aware, and realized he'd had another nightmare.

  He sighed, wondering if the recurring dreams were going to last forever. He reached up and unlatched the locks he’d installed for his own safety, or at least his peace of mind. He pushed open the lid and sat upright. His gaze wandered across the room while his mind tried to fight off the feeling of dread he had about the night ahead.

  In the center of a large stone room that was buried deep beneath his house, his coffin rested on a massive stone slab with Egyptian hieroglyphic carvings around its edges. The carvings read, ‘Death is not but eternal life.’ The slab and coffin were the focus of the room, with the only other items being his slippers and a small table that held a candelabra and a box of wooden matches.

  Alex lit a match and touched it to the candle wicks. A soft glow lit the room and let him safely climb out of his coffin. When he slammed the lid shut, the hollow sound reverberated off the stone walls and quickly died. He wedged his large feet into his slippers, padded to the wide steel door and punched a series of numbers into an electronic keypad. The door emitted a soft whooshing sound when the lock released.

  Yawning, he stepped through the door and into a maze of tunnels that worked their way into deadly traps scattered throughout his underground chamber. Another whoosh signaled the door locking behind him. With the candelabra in his right hand, Alex moved through the maze and watched the flickering shadows play on the walls.

  Alex stopped short and blinked. He saw what he thought was Malcolm's face, shining menacingly in the light ahead. He held the candles out toward the face, but the image wavered in the candlelight and disappeared.

  Hmmmm, he thought, perhaps the night ahead will prove eventful after all.

  Except for his echoing footsteps, the tunnels were deadly silent. Once he reached the end of the tunnels, he faced yet another heavy steel door with an electronic lock. Again, Alex entered a code on a keypad and exited the tunnels into a small closet.

  Finally, he came to a thick oak door that simply needed a key. He removed the key from the pocket of his pajama shirt. Alex unlocked the door, entered the actual bedroom of his house, and relocked the entryway to the tunnels like he always did.

  More out of habit than concern, Alex scanned the room with all his senses. Despite popular legend, the many mirrors in the room reflected his image off each other.

  Alex gazed longingly at the four poster bed in which he never slept. The thick mattress was clothed in burgundy blankets with piles of decorative pillows scattered across the head of the bed. Burgundy and black dominated the color scheme: black carpet, burgundy walls, and sheer black curtains shading the windows.

  Preferring the softer light of candles, he bypassed the light switch and went to the dressing table. He placed the candelabra on the table and picked up a candle that stood in a golden holder with biblical carvings on its base. Each time he lit the candle he was reminded of his time in Rome. The things there were so beautiful he couldn’t resist bringing something home for himself.

  Alex knew his hobby of decorating bordered on obsessive. He brought back things from his journeys all over the world to put in his main house in Reno. But his house was finished.

  On top of that, his casinos practically ran themselves. His place on the Higher Collective only occupied him every now and then.

  He found it an awful feeling, having no purpose.

  He tried to ignore the weakness that plagued his body with pain, indicating it was time to feed again. Glancing at his nightstand, he noticed the blinking red message light on his cellphone. Pushing back the pangs of hunger, he checked the messages.

  Damion’s smooth voice came through the earpiece. “Hey Alex, I’ve set a Collective meeting for tonight. Something is going down with Malcolm ... I really don’t like the feel of it. I think we all need to get together to talk about this one. Eleven, conference room.”

  Clicking his phone shut and throwing it on the bed, Alex went to his closet and rummaged through his clothes. With exacting care, he chose a black Armani suit, complemented by a dark red dress shirt. Dark red was his power color, and he loved to feel powerful.

  In the connecting bathroom he stripped out of his pajamas. The reflection staring back at him was one that would never change. Until the end of his existence, each time he looked in the mirror, he would see a twenty-eight-year-old man. His harsh Russian features would forever remain without wrinkles, and his coal black hair would never gray. His eyes, though, told the story of his age, and even he could see the stories in them.

  His bare arms and chest still held the large muscles of the hardworking man he had been as a mortal. Although, his chest now bore the one mark he had allowed himself to get. He ran his fingers over the red longevity symbol. He had chosen longevity as a marker for being immortal. Like it was yesterday he remembered China and the tattoo shop where he had received the tattoo. As a last minute decision he asked the artist to add the three koi fish in a circle around the longevity symbol because the koi fish were associated with life-long good luck. And he felt like he sure need some of that.

  Alex continued to think about China and its rare beauty while he carefully applied a dark, skin-colored foundation to his face and hands to cover his paleness. It was worth the effort to prevent mortals from questioning his light skin. After checking himself in the mirror again, Alex donned his black leather overcoat, a long flowing garment that swept
the floor.

  He allowed himself one last approving glance in the mirror, grabbed his briefcase off his dresser, and left the room.

  He opened the garage door and sighed with pride. The room glimmered with glossy paint and shiny chrome from the many vehicles. He chose his orange ’69 Mustang, because he wanted to stop at the church before the meeting, but he didn’t have much time to spare. He slipped into the driver’s seat, set his briefcase on the seat beside him, and then, with the turn of the key, the car came to life. After he backed out of the garage, he shut the doors with a remote and roared his way out of the long driveway.

  At that hour of night, the pine-tree-lined streets were deserted. Alex liked that. Living outside the city, between Reno and Lake Tahoe, gave him more privacy. Although it was raining, he opened his window halfway to let in the fresh scent of the rain-washed earth.

  When he approached the city, he took in the view of the lights. For Alex, each time was like the first time. The lights were like beacons, calling to him, enticing him. For that matter, he thought the lights were like vampires, deceivingly beautiful, alluring, and full of promise.

  Until you’re bitten, he thought.

  Unable to help himself, he chuckled and continued the drive into the city. Traffic there was crazy compared to the lonely streets near his home. Among the multitude of hotels and casinos dominating the city, he kept his focus on the Lucas Hotels and Casinos—the massive towers stood tall and proud—while he drew closer to them.

  He passed the exit and kept going for a few miles until he came to a stop in front of a large brick church. He parked the car, ran through the rain, and ascended the cement stairway. Alex found the church deserted and locked, as it always was that time of night.