Free Dead Of Winter (The Beautiful Dead Book 2) by Daryl Banner Page A

Climbing, climbing, I wonder if I could reach that silver sky. I’m mad like Mad Malory, high on desires and bubbling with thoughts and overwhelmed and dreamy, and I’m climbing so high that one slip of my foot could drop me to the cruel ground and shatter my every limb. Not that it matters, I’d survive. Even from the height of a cliff, I’d survive. I wonder if Mad Malory survived her fall.
    I wonder … I wonder if Mad Malory survived.
    But that thought is quickly abandoned when I find myself suddenly at the very top of the building. This high up, I can look over the Trenton city walls. Far into the distance, I see the tops of the leafless, creepy trees that hug our humble dwelling. Maybe if I strain my talented, Undead eyes, I can spot the Whispers, even from here.
    Then I notice it. Fluttering in the sky some distance away. I gasp. With the silence of the area, my gasp is so loud, even in my own ears.
    I see it … the bird . The freaking bird . It’s so far away, I can’t tell what kind of bird it is. Flapping its wings, beating the dead air, it makes a large circle somewhere far, far off, circling the deadwood. “No, poor bird,” I say to the night air, “you won’t find a thing to peck on in there.”
    From down below, I’m suddenly caught by the sound of singing. I peer down and find that some lady has taken to the stage to sing. Her melody is eerie and mournful, filling the stark silence of the dead-of-night Square with resonating notes of grief and longing. The music fills me up in the best and worst way.
    When I bring my eyes back to the sky, I find the bird is flying off now into the silver beyond, vanishing. The woman’s song haunts me while I view the sky, like an aching, reminiscing friend. My eyes trail off, scanning the forest skyline.
    And that’s when I see the other thing.
    There’s a rainbow glow mixing into the void … a spread of faint, distant colors bruising the horizon with its peculiar beauty. “What are you? ” I ask, curious, studying the pretty colors. For a sick and hilarious moment, I wonder if some of Gill’s blood is still tickling my senses inside somewhere, teasing my eyes to life.
    For a solid minute, I genuinely consider whether or not a night sky can look like a rainbow until it finally dawns on me what I might really be looking at.
    Fire.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

C H A P T E R – F I V E
    D E F I A N C E
     
    “I’ve been watching it for weeks.”
    My jaw drops. “Weeks??”
    “And it has not moved.” The Chief lifts his chin, his eyes guarded and heavy, likely with a hundred other things he has conveniently decided not to mention to anyone.
    “Let me get this straight. You’ve known about that fire— for weeks —and haven’t said a thing? You haven’t even sent someone out to, like, investigate it? Anything? Do you realize if it comes anywhere near Trenton—?”
    “The whole dry lot of us will go up in flames. Yes, I realize. I don’t want a town panic, so this news stays here .” He lifts a cup of water to his lips, makes a loud gulping sound, then sets it back down, heavy. “There is something odd about that fire … something I don’t trust.”
    I look over at John incredulously, who I’d dug up from Jasmine’s party and dragged here to the Chief’s home. Still being plenty intoxicated, he simply stares at the wall pensively, unresponsive.
    “But surely the gatherers have seen it,” I point out. “Wouldn’t they notice the smoke and flame, even during daylight? In fact, just now at Jasmine’s party, a man was going on about it.”
    “A crazy man no one listens to. And no, the gatherers haven’t seen it. From the ground, its view is blocked. Did you look closely, Winter? This fire doesn’t smoke. It’s an odd fire.” The Chief shakes his head. “How does it stay in the same place for weeks? No matter what it’s burning, it ought to have put itself out by now.”
    I have to admit, that part strikes me as odd, too.
    “And