Flame Moon (A Flame Moon Novel Read online

  Flame Moon

  A Flame Moon Novel, Volume 1

  K.J. Jackson

  Copyright © K.J. Jackson, 2012

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any forms, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

  Third Edition: April 2013

  Smashwords Edition

  ISBN: 978-1-940149-00-4

  http://www.kjjackson.com

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, you are welcome to share it with your friends, alternately, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  Dedication

  – For my favorite Ks

  { Prologue }

  His thumb pressed hard on the pin, puncturing the picture, marrying it to the wall behind. A neat hole in the exact top center of the photo, right above the haggard old man triumphantly holding aloft a chunk of the wall. A chunk of broken cement that, effectively, told the world the cold war was over.

  He was done. Done with more than a hundred years of war. Of killing. Of hunting. Of not knowing where he was sleeping, or where he was waking up. Of constantly questioning what side of right he was balanced on. Of time moving so fast. A new century was racing at him, and he had only just gotten used to the current one.

  Always moving, always needed somewhere. But it was time to quit. Charlotte needed him here. And he needed it. Needed to stop, if only for a while. Who he had been for the last hundred years, was not who he wanted to be for the next hundred.

  Aiden stepped back from the wall, eyes scanning the captured moments. Rows and columns of photos, encapsulating the sins of the past, stared at him. The pictures taken, some by him, some by Triaten at his ongoing request, and some gathered from various magazines and newspapers. He realized now he was going to have to figure out a way to live with the reality of what he had done, no matter the reasons for doing. The vacant dead eyes, half-rolled into sockets. Limbless bodies. The mutilation a single swipe of his blade could cause.

  There was nothing to do but face them now, the photos. He wasn’t going to forget. The one thing he knew was that he was not going to give himself a pass on the past. On all that he had wrought.

  The elders had not taken the news of their best warrior going into retirement well. Aiden hadn’t given them much notice, but they would make do. There were others who could take his place. No matter if it took several working together to fill his spot. The elders, of course, had screamed and raged and threatened, but it didn’t make a difference. He was done, at least for now.

  They had to be satisfied that at least he hadn’t closed the door. If he was truly needed, he’d be available. But he had made it clear, that he would be the one deciding what “need” was. No one would be deciding for him.

  Aiden’s finger trailed the edge of the picture of the ragged man on top of the Berlin Wall. It was a lifeline for his conscious. And there were others — similar photos scattered throughout the montage on his wall of death and destruction, though he rarely focused on them. They were there, also courtesy of Triaten. Photos of a family reunited. A young couple engulfed in carefree laughter. The quiet contemplation of an elderly woman feeding birds. A soldier holding his newborn baby.

  Photos of a world not destroyed. Photos his death and destruction had made possible. The good that was abundant in a world not engulfed in mayhem and destruction. The good that mankind was capable of.

  He let his hand slip to his side and stepped back, still facing the wall. Instinct pulled his eyes to the shots of horror in front of him. It was time to learn to live with his sins.

  { Chapter One }

  Twenty-Plus Years Later

  The shard through her skull was her welcome to consciousness. She wasn’t sure if there was an actual knife wedged into her, not that it mattered, her head was exploding with or without the carving of brain matter.

  Her eyes cringed closed as she willed it away, instinctively fighting to return to the oblivion in her mind, the painless darkness she just left. But she was no match. Layer upon layer of excruciating stabs sliced through her muddled confusion, bringing awareness with each burst.

  The pain — how could she not be dead? And hell, was that a rock on her chest?

  Stomach curdling, her knees pulled up to her gut, and in that instant, all her senses flooded in — cold, wet, over her entire body. Sand and swallowed bile on her tongue. Distinctive smell of pine needles. Hard rocks jutting into her back.

  Her eyes crept open.

  She saw the trees overhead first, green pines and budding aspens, with a cold grey sky above. Birds cawing mixed in with the angry rush of water over rocks. A river? She had no idea where she was or why.

  This was not good.

  Her head rolled to the side. A man sitting on a rock, staring at her, somehow wasn’t a surprise. She blinked to clear her wet lashes. A wetsuit was rolled halfway down his tightly carved body — hell, that was a whole lot of muscle. His dark hair was wet, face unshaven. She wasn’t sure what was in his stare. Apprehensive curiosity? Anger? Whatever it was, there was no hint of smile, no look of concern about the pain her body was in. And no indication he was even going to say anything to her.

  A long minute passed.

  He stood up, eyes not moving from her. He stepped closer.

  “Who are you?” His voice was low, and the three words very measured.

  Good — he could talk, she thought. Too bad that came with his massive figure looming — threatening, over her. Excruciating as it was, she sat up, managing to prop her deadened arms under her for support.

  “Me?” she conjured bravado through the haze in her mind. “How about who are you, and what the hell am I doing here?”

  A cocked eyebrow was her only reply.

  “Really, guy? I wake up here in the woods, wet, freezing,” she looked down and noticed her own body. “I’m wearing a wetsuit, I have no idea how I got here, why my chest feels like it was ripped apart and why my head...” Her hand touched the back of her head, and the blood that spread across her fingers gave her pause. Her eyes focused on the red staining her fingertips. “Why is my head split open?”

  She looked up at him.

  No answer. He just stood there, arms crossed.

  “Nothing? You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered. Words weren’t getting her anywhere, and the confusion she thought was gone was now only getting worse. Dizziness stopped her, and she leaned forward, resting her arms on her bent knees as she gasped, head down, trying to get air into her crushed lungs. She made sure to keep his rubber-clad feet in view. But he made no movement as she sucked air.

  Finally, her head popped back up, and her exhale was audible as she took in her surroundings. Trees, trees and more trees. A mountain river in front of her. The rocky clearing they were in looked to have no path in, or out. Again, what the hell was she doing here? She looked up at him.

  “Can you stand? Walk?” his voice had a rasp in it. Low and impatient. “We need to move before sundown.”

  “Sundown...move?” The thick fog of confusion turned into cream soup. She shook her head slowly. “No, no, no. Wait. I am not going anywhere unti
l you tell me who you are and what I’m doing here.”

  Annoyance was clear on his face. “You don’t remember?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, here’s the short.” He came down to her level, balancing on his heels in front of her. He didn’t hide that he was studying her face closely. “You came into my shop a few hours ago, wanted to kayak this river. I asked if you’d ever kayaked before, and you said yes. Once we were on the river, it was obvious you’d never been on the water in your life, and with the river in spring run-off,” his thumb pointed over his shoulder back to the swirling water behind him, “you were out of control before we even began.”

  He stood up and looked back upriver. “And around the last bend, you flipped and didn’t right. I went in after you, and now we’re here.”

  “No, impossible,” her voice was a whisper, shaking her head. “I hate water — I would never get in pool, much less a raging river.”

  He shrugged. It was clear now that he was pissed he was in this situation. Pissed at her.

  “Wait a second.” She looked up at him, surprised alarm on her face. “Why don’t I like water?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her voice pitched higher as the base of the confusion began to take shape. “I hate water, I mean, I really, really know I hate water...but I don’t know why.” She gasped for air as her stomach tightened with an invisible gut punch. Her fingers tightened into balls. Staring at the ground, her choked words were barely audible. “Who the hell am I?”

  Silence.

  She looked up at him, imploring. “Who am I?”

  His head tilted to the side and he suddenly looked just as confused as she was. And less pissed off.

  He knelt down in front of her again. “You’re telling me you don’t know who you are?”

  She shook her head no.

  “You don’t have any memory of coming to the shop, getting on the river?”

  “No.”

  “Anything before that? Anything at all?”

  She paused, closed her eyes, and tried to conjure up some memory to grasp onto. Anything. A silent minute passed. Her eyes stayed closed as she spoke. “No, I don’t — I don’t think anything is there — vague faces, odd pieces of conversation...random places...and a train?” Her face registered bewilderment as the image of being close to a moving train appeared. For a moment, she felt she could grasp onto the memory in her mind, but then it slipped and was gone. “It’s a mess — things, people, are in there, but I...I don’t know who they are or what any of it means.”

  Her eyes opened, horrified. “This is deep shit I’m in, isn’t it?”

  A sympathetic half-smile cocked his chiseled face. “Yep, I’m afraid it is.” At some point when her eyes were closed, the man’s eyes had shifted from perturbed wariness, into cautious compassion. She liked the compassion a whole lot better.

  He stood up. “I hate to rush you, but before we can tackle your mind, we need to tackle getting out of here. The kayaks are long gone downriver, so we’re going to have to hike out of here before you freeze.” He offered his hand down to her.

  She took a quick look again at the thick woods surrounding them. Choices were none.

  So she reached up and grasped his hand, and was struck at how warm it was. She didn’t quite trust this man — she didn’t even know who he was — but the strong hand enveloping hers managed to be a warm comfort. A shiver shot through her, convulsing her body, and she suddenly realized how cold — freezing — she was in comparison to his hand.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have anything to help you warm up — everything went with the kayaks.” He pulled her up. “The best I can offer is a strenuous hike up the mountainside, through thick woods, with water boots on, to help warm you up.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was joking, his words were serious. She was just happy his demeanor had softened toward her, from how it had been when she first woke up.

  “I need to check out your head, first.” He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. Again, she marveled, the warmest hands, even through her wetsuit.

  He separated the thick chestnut hair on the back of her head, plunging through the half-unraveled braid with his fingers, trying to find where the cut was. He found it and poked and prodded until she yanked away with an ouch.

  “Sorry — it doesn't look too deep. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a horribly sharp rock you banged into underwater. You probably have a mild concussion, but you should be able to move fine. How’s your balance? Dizzy?”

  Not sure, she took a couple steps. “Fine, I think.”

  “Okay, well if you feel dizzy, or things go out of focus, let me know.” He turned and looked up the mountainside. “The hardest will be this portion,” he pointed to the thick swath of evergreens in front of them. “We’ll have to cut through these woods about a half mile — it’s going to be steep — and then we’ll run into a trail that will take us about another mile to a friend’s ranch.”

  He turned to look at her. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. It was clear he was taking a moment to assess her face. Looking for answers, she guessed. But what the questions were, she didn’t know. The only thing she did know was that she didn’t have any answers handy for him.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She shrugged her shoulders, but managed a small smile. “Yes, but just one question first.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I’m sorry I don’t remember, but what’s your name?”

  He didn’t answer right away, and she could tell he was taken aback by the question. She followed up. “And why so surprised by my asking?”

  A low chuckle escaped him. “Well, truthfully, you couldn’t have cared less about my name earlier, so I never told you.”

  It was her turn to be surprised. “Really? That seems so rude.”

  “It was.”

  “Well at least I didn’t forget it,” she smiled.

  He couldn’t help but return a wry smile, head cocked to the side. “I’ll give you that. My name is Aiden.”

  “Aiden.” She let it roll off her tongue. “Hmmm, old world, and a strong name.”

  She looked at him, really for the first time past the initial cursory glance. Dark hair curled onto his forehead and partly down his neck. The short dark grizzle of facial hair made it obvious that this man was used to living in the outdoors, but would still make it to shaving occasionally. The stubble did not hide the strong chin or facial features.

  But it was his eyes that made her pause. A blue so dark and rich, they looked molded straight from the deepest swathes of the sea. A smooth blue that was only interrupted by random flecks of silver. It was those glints of silver that held her gaze. Held it for too long.

  A bird cawed, jarring her, and she blinked and looked away, embarrassed at the extended time she had been studying him. He thankfully said nothing. Didn’t even crook an eyebrow. She gave him a quick smile. "The name suits you. I like it," she covered quickly with the only handy words she had, even though she knew he could care less about what she thought of his name.

  "Thanks. Ready?"

  He held out his hand to her. She took it, way too quickly she knew, but she didn’t care. The warmth and security that came through his grasp was irresistible in her current beaten state.

  He started walking toward the tree line, and she followed, her feet stumbling over the rocky shoreline. The water boots she had on only offered a thin layer of rubber between her feet and the craggy ground. Sharp rocks dug into her soles. This wasn’t going to be fun. Her feet stopped right before they stepped into the forest. Aiden looked over his shoulder back down at her.

  “Aiden, I...” her question trailed off. She was afraid to ask it.

  He didn’t even let a second pass. “Your name is Skye.” And he squeezed her hand.

  { Chapter 2 }

  Man he moved fast, Skye thought in between her heaving breaths as she studied the dark hair that curled onto the back of his neck. And she suspected that for
her sake, he was moving at a way slower pace than he was used to.

  There had been no words since they left the riverside. There was no time for talk as they picked their way back and forth through the thick trees up the mountainside. Rocks were slick from the spring runoff, making the steep angle of the hill even more slippery under their wetsuit boots, which were definitely not made for hiking.

  They had been on the trail portion now for a half hour, she guessed, although Aiden’s version of a “trail” was a bit different than what she had imagined. Granted, it wasn’t the steep forest that they had just come through, but nor was it anything more than a skinny path that appeared and disappeared as nature dictated.

  Darkness was beginning to fall, and she wondered how much further they would have to go. Wooziness was beginning to seep into her mind, and she was having a hard time concentrating on making her feet go correctly in front of each other. It was no small favor that Aiden was still gripping her hand tightly, for she had surrendered a long way back to not only letting his hand be her guide, but her forward force as well.

  The trees soon broke, and the two stepped into a meadow of vibrant spring green grasses. Aiden stopped, and she accidentally bumped into the back of him.

  "Sorry," she mumbled.

  He looked back down at her, but the worry on his face didn't register with Skye.

  "Holding in there?" he asked.

  She nodded yes.

  "Good," he pointed over the hill at the far side of the meadow. "We only have a bit farther to go. We're on the main part of the ranch now, but still have a couple of pastures to cross to get to the main house.”

  Skye put her head down, and continued to will her feet to work in a straight line. She knew she lost time, because the next thing she knew, she saw a sprawling mountain home, and just to the left of it, a woman on a horse thundering toward them. Aiden didn't stop walking, just kept forward until they intersected the woman. For the speed with which she had approached, the horse came to a graceful stop at her command just a few yards away. The woman dismounted.