Bones of Fire (The Fire Series #1)

Chapter One

“Hey, Dad,” said Andrew, “she made your favorite.”  

Edwin made his face smile. It was a tight, rebellious smile. He looked at his daughter. “My favorite?” 

“Yes. Chicken and dumplings,” his wife added. “And she’s put a lot of time into it.” That was the hint that a cruel, torturous death awaited the first one who said or did anything to hurt Sharon’s feelings. 

Edwin could still taste the last chicken and dumplings his daughter had cooked. But the memory of that terrible meal faded as he looked into her eyes. Sure, Sharon was not a good cook—actually it was a crime any time she cooked—and it would probably be years, light-years, before she could cook an edible meal, but one thing she didn’t lack was love. She was the most loving, caring person he knew. Her love was so complete. So trusting and vulnerable. She thrived on doing good for others.  

Edwin’s eyes watered a little. “Honey,” he said with deep affection, “thank you for preparing the meal. You’re the loveliest daughter a father could have.” He almost looked forward to eating. 

Sharon saw the softness in her father’s eyes. It was as touching as his words. She knew she wasn’t a good cook. “Oh, it’s okay, Daddy,” she tried to say matter-of-factly. But she was clearly moved by her father’s appreciation. I love you so much, Daddy.  

*****  

An urgent and frenzied meeting was in session. Far above the Atlanta city lights in the spiritual dimension of wicked spirits, where natural and supernatural laws mysteriously intertwined, the four tiers of demon spirits that governed the area gathered. Principalities, powers, rulers of darkness, and wicked spirits from high places.  

The emissaries of darkness found their places inside the giant structure. Every demon sat according to rank. An eight-feet tall warrior spirit approached the raised lectern. He placed his large pad onto the lectern and raised his hand to silence the nervous murmuring of nearly five hundred devils.  The chattering ceased at once. All eyes riveted to the warrior spirit.  

Bashnar's piercing gaze searched the ugly audience. Those seated closest to the front had mixed emotions of being scrutinized by this great warrior. They wanted him to notice them. They wanted their faces to be seen and remembered.  Recognition meant promotion. But there was a downside to recognition. It could sometimes lead to humiliation. Sometimes it meant terrible, excruciating pain. In extreme cases it could mean banishment to the Dark Prison.  

Nonetheless, the most distinguished rulers had insisted on first row seats. Many of them were well connected with powerful sponsors. They had that kind of arrogant swagger that silently, yet loudly, identified them as demons who knew they were important. Yet for all their brazen pomp, more than a few were visibly shaken when Bashnar fixed his piercing gaze on them.  

He never seemed to merely look at you. To be looked at for any length of time by the Mighty Bashnar was to be studied. One always went away from this encounter with the overwhelming sense that the depths of one’s soul had been thoroughly searched for the slightest trace of weakness, something the great warrior could use against his subject in the future.  

But there were more immediate reasons to tremble in Bashnar’s presence. All warrior spirits were ruthless, ferocious, and utterly evil. Yet there were some, such as Bashnar, who excelled in these hellish qualities. His exploits of cruelty against humans and even demons were well known throughout the ranks of darkness. There was hardly a wicked spirit who didn't know of Bashnar. 

Yet his meteoric rise to the position of power and influence he enjoyed wasn't conferred upon him simply because he was a great fighter. There were many great fighters. No, Bashnar's legendary battlefield victories were only part of the reason he was a favorite of the Council of Strategic Affairs. He was favored for his fighting skills, but he was revered for his strategies.