Arianna Rose: The Arrival (Part 4) by Jennifer Martucci, Christopher Martucci

just any old, esteemed warlock.  Agnon, once the most powerful warlock to walk the earth, had fallen.  His alleged death had come as a surprise, a surprise that had not set well with Desmond, to say the least.  It had not set well with her either.  In fact, she feared a nefarious plan was in place, one that banked on Desmond rushing to his father’s lair.  She feared he was speeding headlong into danger. 
    Worry grated her brain like a fine needle scraping tender flesh.  She tore the covers from her body and swung her legs over the side of the bed, intent upon acting rather than idly cooling her heels in bed.  She needed to be up and moving, away from any reminder of his absence. 
    She padded across cold, bare floors to a bathroom that made the tiny one she’d shared with her mother in their trailer seem large and lavish by comparison.  She brushed her teeth at the undersized sink then took a quick shower in the stand-up stall.  A narrow nozzle with even narrower jets drizzled a puny stream of lukewarm water barely forceful enough to clear her hair of shampoo and conditioner.  She swore under her breath when she’d stepped out and found a single white towel that looked more befitting a toddler hanging on a simple wooden rod.  But it did not feel appropriate to grumble about her accommodations, even if she’d only grumbled to herself.  After all, she’d been the one who’d chosen to stay in a cabin rather than the grand log house, opting for privacy with Desmond over comfort.  Now he was gone, and had taken with him any form of comfort she could have felt regardless of her lodgings. 
    Refusing to succumb to longing, Arianna quickly dried her body then dressed.  She planned to pay a visit to Beth and her brothers before making her way to the main house where Briathos and the elders lived.  But after she’d shoved a roomy hooded sweatshirt over her head and twisted her wet hair into a braid, foregoing makeup altogether, a glance out the window made her pulse race.
    A large form materialized from fog that clung to low-growing shrubs and vegetation and appeared to be heading in the direction of Briathos’ camp.  She moved closer to the window to get a better look and saw a shape looming, evading branches and roots as it slipped between trees toward the grounds.
    Alarm stormed every nerve ending of her body as adrenaline flooded her system.  Whoever or whatever skirted the woods beyond the cabins was there as an adversary, Arianna was sure of it.  Instinct raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck like hackles and her body went on high alert. 
    She needed to notify the others and decided to sneak out her door as quietly as possible and sprint next door.  A last check on the shape confirmed that it was headed for the camp.  Only now, she was better able to distinguish characteristics.
    After the dirty, dreadlocked fiends that had attacked the Parker compound, Arianna expected nothing more than the vilest drudges her kind had to offer.  So when she saw the top of a blonde head, her breathing hitched and her pounding heart went into overdrive.  
    Partially obscured by leaves and limbs and shrouded in milky vapor, the shape was still a safe distance away.  But its pace had hastened, and the nearer it got the more familiar it became. 
    Trees grew farther apart and undergrowth thinned.  Suddenly , the image before her became clearer. 
    Arianna froze, her mind warring with her heart to be reasonable, that she could not possibly be seeing what she thought she saw. 
    When finally the shape emerged from the cover of the woods and fog, her heart won out and she realized the shape was Desmond.  Arianna could see him in the distance and her galloping heart stumbled. 
    Bathed in shafts of warm, buttery radiance, his silhouette was haloed ethereally.  He’d said he’d be back soon, but she had not dared entertain the notion he’d return just twenty-four hours later.  Her mood soared and a broad