Garden of Serenity (34 page)

“I’m sure, Mer. There’s nothing more I could wish for.” Emotion clogged Jahara’s throat, filling her eyes with tears. She laughed. “I told myself I wouldn’t cry today.”

“It’s a new beginning for all of us.” Reaching over, Merenith squeezed her thigh reassuringly. “You look beautiful by the way.”

“Thank you.”

The trumpets sounded. Mikalyn’s sweet voice carried melodic strains over the amplifier, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. Jahara had chosen this song, finding the lilting words of love in one of Bresilee’s book of ancients.

Everything that would happen today would be a unique blend of the old and the new. It had been a stressful task figuring out what which traditions to keep and which ones to begin.

Jahara’s horse rocked down the slope and the throng of hundreds parted as she and Merenith wound their way toward the swathe of grass cut to make a center aisle. The ancients had performed this ceremony in sacred buildings called churches. For Jahara there was no ground more hallowed than the spot where’d she’d first come to believe in love and the vision Brenimyn promised those who followed him.

“…
and neither time nor distance will diminish my love. My heart. Your heart. Beating as one until the end of time
…”

It was Jahara’s favorite part of the ballad. Mikalyn’s rendition added a poignancy that swelled Jahara’s heart. She thought of all that had come to pass and all that was yet to be.

In the last month, Bresilee’s mansion had been leveled and her cloned embryos destroyed. No one believed they would grow into viable fetuses anyway. The well-check had been expanded to encompass the room where Bresilee had tortured men and now physicals for both men and women were conducted there. The red door was the last item swallowed by the incinerator before the furnace was destroyed and the chute filled with sand. The accumulated ashes of Bresilee’s countless victims were blessed and scattered throughout the flowerbeds of Serenity.

Merenith had moved here to work with Nazaret at the farm.

After Brenimyn’s call on that tragic night, it was Merenith who had alerted Jahara’s Dame. The imperial guard arrived at the Garden only hours after Bresilee’s death. Imposing martial law, they’d sorted through the mess until the new government could be established.

Breeders, both male and female, were given the freedom to remain or return to their homelands. Many committed couples had chosen to stay. This would be the first government sanctioned village allowing men and women to reside in the same dwelling. There was still so much to do to sort out work assignments, but for now everyone lived communally, each service provided for the good of all.

Dr. Linsig, along with several high government officials and many of the staff, unable to accept the new laws, had chosen to leave the Garden for territories unknown.

Accepting the position as chief healer, Jahara had resigned her post at the hospital in the capital city of Lexington. Over the past few months she’d worked with many breeders to heal both the emotional and physical scars left by Bresilee’s reign of terror. The clinic now provided medical attention for everyone and several male healers were being trained as apprentices.

Having proven her healing skills, Mikalyn was promoted to head resident in charge of the healing facility and would be Jahara’s second-in-command. After the healer had nearly lost her life to save Jahara, it meant so much to have Mikalyn working at her side.

The future held so much promise for all of them.

She looked up, finally catching sight of him across the field. Riding tall and proud next to Lukiam, Brenimyn approached the ceremony on horseback. He was dressed in the finest clothing of white satin, the deep neckline of the tunic revealing the bronzed muscles of his chest and the small scar over his heart. No amount of repair by either her or Mikalyn on the night of the shooting could completely remove the offensive mark. It reminded Jahara every day of the sacrifice he’d been willing to make for her.

It felt like months had passed since Jahara had seen him. Even with her Dame, her birth-sisters and Merenith living with her, Jahara thought she would perish from the emptiness his absence left in their new residence near the hospital. With five bedrooms, he’d promised to fill them all with children and love.

In the tradition of the ancients, he’d moved out of their home only a week ago. Sequestered somewhere in the village of Serenity with the other men, he’d refused any communication from her. Though he knew she already carried his child, Brenimyn wanted their first night as
husband
and
wife
to have a virginal quality.

The man had no idea how much she desired him if he thought she needed the isolation to make her feel that way. Every joining with Brenimyn was like opening a rare gift of true love.

Dismounting, they handed the reins to Nazaret. Lukiam and Merenith walked ahead of them to the altar at the base of the rocks. They had agreed to stand before the crowd and bear witness to the eternal love Jahara and Brenimyn shared. This ceremony would legally commit them only to each other until the Creator of this earth brought them into the next realm.

Everywhere, faces reflected the love exploding in her heart.

Threading their fingers together, Brenimyn and Jahara walked past the friends and family gathered in eager anticipation of the monumental reform about to take place.

“I’ve missed you, woman,” he whispered in her ear.

“Weren’t you afraid in the absence, I might choose another breeder?”

“Never.” His dimples danced around the smile lighting his face and sparking in the depths of his eyes. “I’m the best. You said so yourself.”

She laughed. “My Bren, always so cocksure of yourself.”

They reached the altar, turning to face one another as the final strains of the love ballad cascaded down over the crowd.

“… our hearts, our souls, our destinies, forever twined together. Forever one man, one woman, one love …”

And didn’t that just say it all.

The End

Please Enjoy this Excerpt from

Shadows of Fire

 

Chapter One

It wasn’t much of a noise, just an inconsequential thump in the night that was enough to rouse Professor Paul Morgan from his dreamless slumber. Still cradled in the gentle arms of sleep, his blood thick with sleeping medication, he wasn’t sure if he’d simply imagined the sound. But when another muffled bang was followed by a whoosh of air—he had no doubt the commotion coming from the first floor had nothing to do with his mischievous tabby, Zeus.

Drowsiness fogged his mind and blunted his coordination as he fumbled for his eyeglasses on the nightstand. Paul swung his feet to the floor and slipped them into well-worn leather slippers. He shuffled in the dark, still unable—even after thirty years of living alone—to disturb a wife long since departed. Life without his soul mate had been lonely at best, agonizing at worst. Nothing, not even his life’s research, filled the void she’d left in his heart. He grabbed his robe from the hope chest at the foot of the bed and rushed from the bedroom.

The eerie orange glow emanating from his den at the bottom of the stairs wrapped iron bands of dread around his chest, stealing his breath. Everything near and dear to him was in that room; his wife’s portrait, the marble Sphinx from their honeymoon in Egypt, the antique bookcase she’d given him when he’d been awarded the chemistry department chair at the university—the bronzed baby shoes.

His feet barely touched the treads as he rushed down the stairs, caution and prudence gone with the desperate need to salvage his memories. He came up short at the threshold.

Swallowing hard, Paul worked to dislodge his heart wedged in his throat. Sharp claws of fear lifted the hairs on the back of his neck. A fire crackled safely in the fireplace across the room. Its orange and gold flames cloaked the person behind his desk in an otherworldly radiance, casting a sinister shadow that twisted and swelled along the paneled walls.

A quick glance at the file cabinet in the corner reassured him his files were safe, but did nothing to assuage his apprehension. The research papers he’d left neatly stacked there were strewn haphazardly across its surface.

He spoke to the back of the intruder’s head. “Wha … wha … what are you doing?”

There was no response save for the clicking of computer keys.

“I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m calling the police—” Paul said.

A maniacal laugh rent the stillness, sending shards of Arctic terror and adrenaline surging through his veins.

“No, Professor Morgan. We both know you cannot do that.” With a flourish, a hand came down hard on the keyboard. The monitor flicked rapidly through several screens before going black.

“What have you done?” Paul rushed to the desk. A chilling wave of nausea rolled over the tightness in his chest, bringing water to his eyes. All the data and notes he’d accumulated over four decades were on that computer.
Everything.
 

“I didn’t want it to happen this way.” The words carried sadness, but the face that turned to stare at him was pure evil. A face he barely recognized. “You really shouldn’t have been quite so diligent in your vampire research, you know, Professor. You’re no match for their superiority. I sent obvious warnings for months, hoping you’d abandon this foolhardy course. But you ignored the signs.” A clicking tongue scolded him as if he were an obstinate child. Fingers steepled in front of lips thin with hatred. “A shame really. I have no doubt your brilliant mind will be missed by your colleagues. But you and your work have become too much of a liability to the vampire population to be allowed to live.”

“You can’t get away with murder.”

“Oh, I think we both know I have, and I will again.”

Paul suspected the person rising out of the chair was referring to the rash of unsolved fires in South Kenton over the past summer. He refused to shudder as cold fingers of disgust walked up his spine. People had died in each of those blazes and the local fire department had no clue the monster standing before him was likely responsible for all of them. Until this moment he would have considered this person a friend. But obviously he’d morphed into a heinous murderer—a murderer with no conscience and a moral compass that pointed straight to hell.

It had become brutally obvious the moment he’d entered the room, Paul would not survive this night. He threw back his shoulders and lifted his chin, accepting his fate with dignity. “I’ve already sent a copy of all of that to my lawyer.” He waved at the papers on the desk. “He knows. He knows and understands
everything
. None of this will stop when I’m dead.” Paul was pleased he could push the lie steadily past the panic clogging his throat. He’d been planning for months to save his research somewhere more permanent, but time and distractions had kept him from the task.

“Please, don’t insult my intelligence.” The murderer gathered the papers on the desk and tapped them on its polished cherry surface. Elegant fingers aligned the edges before unceremoniously dropping them into the fire.

“Nooo …” Paul lunged at the fireplace, but the hungry flames devoured everything he’d lived for over the last three decades. He wasn’t able to salvage even a small scrap of paper. “You don’t know what you’ve done. People are depending on that research.”

“No one that matters. There isn’t a true vampire walking this earth who believes in what you’re doing.” The smile was reptilian, as if Satan himself had taken possession of this wayward soul. “And we both understand what is to come is inevitable. Preordained, if you will—”

“You won’t get away with this.” Paul was repeating himself, but terror had stripped him of any coherent thought.

“But I already have.” Several small objects flew from long fingers. Blue flames erupted on Paul’s desk. A ball of fire jumped to the leather chair next to the hearth. Another flew to the Aubusson rug he and his wife had bought on their honeymoon fifty years ago.

“Stop!”

“What you began, I will finish tonight.”

Paul grabbed the decorative throw on the back of the couch, intent on pounding the growing flames into submission.

Another burst of evil laughter split the air as the crystal vase on the mantel exploded in the growing heat of the fire. “That’s right, old man. Try to stop it.”

Paul brought the blanket down hard on the fire spreading like a sickness across the rug. But the rapacious blaze would not be denied. It rapidly consumed the jacquard drapes and licked at the ceiling. The black smoke choking the air filled his nose and burned his lungs. He needed to get out. Abandoning the blanket, he turned to run.

He saw the murderous demon raise the small ottoman only seconds before it crashed down on Paul’s world.

* * * *

“Oh, screw you, Burkett.” Reese Colton threw his cards down as the man across the table collected the two paper IOU’s along with a pile of money. Testosterone and laughter filled the fire station kitchen. “You all suck!” Reese drained the drink at his elbow.