The Birth of Jaiden
Jenifer Malone Wright
Published by Jennifer Malone Wright at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Jennifer Malone Wright
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my husband, without whom, this book would still be merely a dream instead of a reality.
“The most compelling vampire story I have ever read. I couldn’t even believe it was over when I had turned the last page, and I wanted to read on at once. Now, I’m desperately waiting for the second part…”
Theresa Berg, Editor
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The creation of this book involved many people. I would like to thank my cousin Kathy Weisz for her time and the beautiful cover art as well as my editor Theresa Berg for helping polish and perfect my work. I would also like to thank my good friend Rose for her constant support and encouragement, reading the manuscript over and over again, and not being afraid to tell me how it is.
Another huge thank you goes to Michy and the Accentuate Writers as well as all my freelance writer friends, who wholeheartedly love the craft of writing, who believe in the power of the written word, and who have helped me grow and learn as a writer.
My husband and my five children deserve a huge thank you as well; they were the ones who many a day and night dealt with the moody writer that I can be. My husband never once doubted me and has always encouraged and supported my dream of being a novelist.
And of course thanks to my other biggest supporters, my sister Mary and my good friend LeAnne.
Thank you all
From the bottom of my heart!
The Birth of Jaiden
1
Sweltering heat emanated from the searing flames. Alex ignored the fact that his skin blistered and his clothes burnt. He plunged both arms into the blazing orange inferno without a second thought for his own well-being. His hands flailed frantically until they found what they had 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 up into his mouth and nose and made it nearly impossible to breath.
“Hurry, hurry. Get out now,” a gentle voice whispered into his ears. “You must go right now if you want to live.”
How could he leave them behind?
“Go now,” the voice whispered more urgently.
Sparks flew as 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 log and created yet another obstacle.
This time, the voice cried out. “Hurry, Alex!”
Alex knew he needed to move. But did he want to live?
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 that money could buy. He felt the soft, white velvet lining rubbing against his cheek but it did not 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 couldn't see any. He groaned as he realized it had been yet another nightmare.
Are these recurring nightmares going to last forever? He wondered as he reached up and unlatched the locks which he’d installed for his own safety. You just never knew when someone was going to come and chop off your head or stake you. He pushed open the lid and sat upright. His gaze wandered around while his mind tried to fight off the dread for the night ahead.
Set 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 only items in the room except for his slippers and a small table that held a candelabra and a box of wooden matches.
Out of habit, Alex lit a match and touched it to the candle wicks. Instantly, the room was illuminated with a soft glow as he climbed out of the coffin. When he slammed the lid shut, the hollow sound reverberated off the stone walls and then quickly died. He wedged his large feet into his slippers, padded over to the wide steel door and punched a series of numbers into the keypad. The door emitted a soft whooshing sound as the powerful 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. There was another whooshing sound as the door locked behind him.
With the candelabra in his right hand, Alex moved through the maze and watched the flickering shadows as they played on the walls. Malcolm’s face shone menacingly in the light ahead.
Alex stopped short and blinked. He held the candles out toward the face, but it wavered in the candlelight and disappeared.
Hmmmm, he thought, perhaps the night ahead will prove to be eventful after all.
Except for his echoing footsteps, the tunnels were dead silent. It seemed that the dark, dank atmosphere should be home to mice or cockroaches, but no, nothing lived there.
Once he got to the end of the tunnels, he faced yet another heavy steel door which required a combination. So again, Alex punched in the numbers and exited.
Finally, just inches from the steel one, there was a thick oak door which simply required a key. Alex took the key from his pajama shirt pocket, unlocked the door, entered his bedroom and then relocked as he always did.
He scanned the room with all his senses. It was more out of habit than concern. Despite the popular belief of vampire legend, the many mirrors in the room reflected his image off of each other.
Alex gazed at the four poster bed that he never slept in. How inviting it looked. 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, sheer black curtains shading the windows.
He preferred the softer light of candles so he passed the light switch and went to the dressing table. He set down the candelabra and picked up a candle that stood in a golden holder with biblical carvings in its base. While he lit it, he was reminded of his time in Rome. The things there had been so beautiful that he hadn’t been able to resist bringing something home for himself.
Alex knew his hobby of decorating his house bordered on an obsession; he brought things back from his journeys all over the world to put in his house in Reno. But his house was done; if he put anything else in it, it would look like a little old lady’s cluttered house. His casinos practically ran themselves and his place on the Great Council only occupied him every now and then. It was an awful feeling not to have a purpose.
He tried to ignore the weakness that plagued his body with pain and indicated that it was time to eat again. A glance at his nightstand told him that his cell phone was blinking. He pushed back the pain of hunger and checked his messages.
Damion’s smooth voice came through the ear piece. “Hey Alex, I’ve set up a council meeting tonight. I just know something is going down with Malcolm…and I really don’t like the looks of it. I think we all need to get together to talk about this one. Eleven, conference room.”
Alex clicked his pho
ne shut and threw it on the bed. Then, he went to his closet and rummaged through his clothes. With excruciating care, he chose a black Armani suit complemented by a dark red dress shirt. Dark red was his power color, and he loved feeling powerful.
Next, he went into the connecting bathroom and gave himself an approving look in the mirror. Till the end of his existence, each time he looked into 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. It was his eyes, though, which told the story of his age, and even he could see the stories in them.
Carefully, Alex applied a dark, skin colored foundation to his face and hands to cover his paleness. The effort was worth it because the mortals never questioned his light skin.
Alex put on his black leather overcoat, which was long enough to accommodate his six foot four body and still sweep the floor around him. Then 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 from the shiny chrome which decorated most of the cars.
If he wanted to stop at the church before the meeting, he didn’t have much time to spare, so he went to his orange ’69 mustang and slipped onto the soft leather seat. He set his briefcase on the seat beside him, and then, with the turn of the key, she came to life. After he had backed out of the garage, he shut the doors with a remote and roared his way out of the long driveway.
The pine tree lined streets were deserted at this hour of the night. Alex liked that; living outside of the city between Reno and Lake Tahoe gave him more privacy. Although it was raining, he opened his window half way to let in the fresh scent of the rain washed earth.
As he approached the city, he took in the view of the lights. It’s like the first time every time, he thought, like beacons calling to you, and like vampires also, deceivingly beautiful, drawing you in with great promise…and then you get bit.
He wasn't able to help himself; he laughed out loud a little and drove into the city. The traffic there was crazy compared to the lonely streets near his house. Among the many hotels and casinos which dominated the city, he watched as Lucas Hotels and Casinos drew closer and closer, and then stood tall and proud in front of him.
He passed the exit and kept going for a few miles until he came to a stop in front of the 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 at this time of night.
When he took out his lock picking tool, he was reminded of the old days when they had never locked the churches. They had always been open for the public whenever they had needed to be close to God.
Guess you couldn’t do that with all the crime nowadays.
Upon entering, he felt a presence; not one of God, but something, or rather someone, else. Of course he knew right away who it was. Danielle had always had this bad habit of following him around when she was invisible.
Although he knew it was she, he never let on to her that he knew.
Why would anyone be upset that an angel was following them around?
Why she was doing it was another story. He couldn’t think of any reason why she would want to keep herself a secret from him, since she knew that he would tell her everything that she wanted to know, and besides that, she could read minds.
Although the bricks muffled the sound of the rain, its presence was evident. It drizzled down the outside of the multicolored stained glass windows.
It’s like they are melting, Alex thought as he stared at them.
An isle separated two pews, and at the far end of the church, behind the podium and the large choir section, was the baptismal area.
Alex went about his ritual as usual; he knelt down in front of the podium at a short wooden table that, without fail, held a fresh flower arrangement each night that he came. It also held a large old style Bible that always lay open to the same verse; John 3:16.
Alex lowered his head and spoke aloud into the empty church; his voice echoed from the walls: “Lord, forgive me…I have sinned…I live a life of sin. Yet still you let me live. Again and again I ask you how that can be. How is it that you could let something as evil and corrupt as I am live on this earth and walk with the humans that you created?”
He felt his head drop even lower.
“I still don’t understand a lot of things you have presented to me throughout this long life, Lord. I am depressed and I have never asked for anything from you except for guidance and strength in certain situations, but it is time that I come to you so humbly and ask that just this once you bless me with something to give me the will to go on.”
A clap of thunder shook the walls of the church.
“This depression has become too great to bear; I can barely rise from sleep when the sun goes down, and none of the hobbies that previously occupied me so well interest me anymore."
Alex paused.
“I would never try to bargain with you or to demand anything from you. I would never be so bold as to assume that I was owed anything. All I am asking for is some kind of meaning to this life, or afterlife, however you wish to put it. I need a reason to want to persevere. After all, I no longer have a family. The only thing I do have, besides a few friends, is the everlasting torment of being one of the most unholy creatures to walk this earth.
Please hear me and consider the needs of one of your servants and thank you, thank you so much, for everything that you have given to me. I would do anything for you, I am yours in all ways, and I am yours in everything.
In Jesus precious name…Amen.”
As Alex rose from his knees, contentment flowed through his veins and filled him up. He felt the same way every time he prayed.
A moment later, he rushed out of the door, stopping only to relock it as he always did out of respect.
***
“Do you think he’s ready?” Damion asked.
“He’s past ready,” Danielle murmured as she slipped off her perch on the railing that separated the choir area from the rest of the church. “Damion, his depression has to end.”
She felt Damion following her to the front pew of the right isle where she wanted to sit so that she could see the altar.
“I know Alex was chosen for this,” he said as he sat down next to her, “but how do we know it will cure his depression? It could end this present situation, but begin another lengthy and dangerous one. How do we know this will not be the straw that breaks the camel’s back?”
Danielle smiled. “I have known Alex for over a hundred years and I know that even though he thinks he is damned to hell, he still keeps his faith in God and that, my dear friend, is the strongest kind of faith there is.”
“So he’ll do it?”
“It is still his decision.”
“I hope it goes the way we want it to.”
“So do I, Damion, so do I.”
“Why do you always come here to watch him pray; don’t you think that’s like invasion of privacy or something?”
“I’m his guardian.”
“You were, when he was a human. He hasn’t been mortal for a long time. I know enough to know you aren’t required to be with him at all times.”
“That’s true, but his prayers are the most important time for me to be with him.”
“Why?”
“He’s convinced that God doesn’t hear his prayer; that’s why he comes here almost every night. He is convinced that he is going to hell and yet he remains a child of God, doing what the Lord would want him to. He could go on living a sinful life, knowing that he is damned anyway, but he doesn’t. It is vital that he has some reinforcement of his faith in God. I know that he feels me here.”
Damion shook his head. “Well, whatever, I’ll see ya at the meeting. I’ve gotta go.”
“Ok.”
Damion was gone. Danielle did not want to leave the ch
urch; she looked up at the large cross on the wall above the baptismal. “Come on, big guy, his time to shine is finally here so let’s show him how much you really have in store for him.”
She reluctantly stood and walked back down the aisle. Her transparency carried her through the tightly locked doors.
2
Alex sensed that Danielle was gone. He sped back along the streets which gleamed wet in the light of the street lamps. This time, he took the exit that dropped him right in front of Lucas Hotels.
He stopped in front of the valet and watched the young man’s face as he examined the car. Then, he put the car in park, got out and gave the kid the keys along with a fifty dollar bill.
“Thank you, Mr. Lucas, Thank you.”
“Just be nice to my baby,” Alex teased him.
The boy looked at the car as a junkie would at his drugs. “Oh I will, Mr. Lucas, don’t you worry.”
“Well, thank you, then.” Alex smiled at him and entered the building through the large, darkly tinted glass doors.
On his way to the elevator, he looked through to the casino entrance and hesitated. Normally, he went straight up to his office before he could even hear the sound of the slots, but for some reason he was drawn into the casino.
He watched the people from the doorway; some appeared desperate, some seemed happy, and some indifferent. Scantily clad prostitutes roamed about, hoping to get a room with one of the high rollers. Every night, at least two or three drunks fought with security about the machines or the card dealers, insisting that they were cheated.
Alex saw a young, blond, pregnant woman sitting at a slot machine with her head resting on her hands and a drink in front of her. It appeared to be orange juice, but he could smell the vodka in it from his position more than ten feet away.
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