Flame (Fireborn) Read online

  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

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Dedication

  About the author

  The Enchanted

  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.

  Prologue

  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 sudde
nly 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.

  Prologue

  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 fore
ver 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.

  Chapter 1

  Eighteen years later

  I watch as they fly above us. People from all over lined up for days to catch a glimpse. I don't blame them. The TV screen can't quite capture the intoxicating allure oozing out of them like a ripe fruit. Their feet hardly touch the ground before reporters surround them like famished vultures.

  The drive thru theater screen looks tiny in comparison to the circular aircraft Ambassador Damien and the other Saguinox arrive in. The ship is round and deceptively flat. It gleams metallic and silver, drawing my eyes to its flashy exterior. No matter how hard I try I can't see any lines where doors or windows might be. Light bounces off the metallic gloss, and it hurts to look closer.

  The ambassador is being greeted as if he's a rock star. His mesmerizing looks have been plastered in TV and magazines for months before this day. He's waving to the crowd and flashing a spellbinding smile. Something pink is flying in the air, and hits his chest before falling to the ground. I gape when I realize what it is: a pink, very frilly bra. I'm not surprised, but I do feel a little embarrassed. They're aliens. Do they even like that sort of thing?

  Shaking my head at the woman's boldness, I note the rows and rows of vehicles stretched from the screen all the way back to the gate signaling the end of the Valley Drive Thru property. There's less than a foot between each car. Other people are on bleachers set up from the night before. There are multiple cameras. Men hold some, and others are on stands. One camera is higher than the rest. It's also closer. The crane operator knows what people are here to see: a glimpse of the Saguinox Angel eyes.

  The sounds of a second ship flying above us ushers another roar of excitement. I wince, covering my ears from a particularly high- pitched scream. The girl next to me- if "next" means a three-foot space separating us- claps her hands enthusiastically. Her whistles are left unanswered as the ship continues forward, ignoring the frenzy. The mass excitement is building, rising higher with each second, like an orchestra crescendo. We have no conductor to pace our energy, and emotions surge, spilling, and swelling until my insides- and my ear drums- might burst at any moment.