Love & War Book 1 in the Arcadia Falls Chronicles by Jennifer Malone Wright Page A

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 focus of the room, with the only other items being his
slippers and a small table that held a candelabra and a box of
wooden matches.
    Alex lit a match and touched it to the
candle wicks. A soft glow lit the room and let him safely climb out
of his coffin. When he slammed the lid shut, the hollow sound
reverberated off the stone walls and quickly died. He wedged his
large feet into his slippers, padded to the wide steel door and
punched a series of numbers into an electronic keypad. The door
emitted a soft whooshing sound when the 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. Another whoosh
signaled the door locking behind him. With the candelabra in his
right hand, Alex moved through the maze and watched the flickering
shadows play on the walls.
    Alex stopped short and blinked. He saw what
he thought was Malcolm's face, shining menacingly in the light
ahead. He held the candles out toward the face, but the image
wavered in the candlelight and disappeared.
    Hmmmm , he thought, perhaps the
night ahead will prove eventful after all.  
    Except for his echoing footsteps, the
tunnels were deadly silent. Once he reached the end of the tunnels,
he faced yet another heavy steel door with an electronic lock.
Again, Alex entered a code on a keypad and exited the tunnels into
a small closet.
    Finally, he came to a thick oak door that
simply needed a key. He removed the key from the pocket of his
pajama shirt. Alex unlocked the door, entered the actual bedroom of
his house, and relocked the entryway to the tunnels like he always
did.
    More out of habit than concern, Alex scanned
the room with all his senses. Despite popular legend, the many
mirrors in the room reflected his image off each other.
    Alex gazed longingly at the four poster bed
in which he never slept. 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, and sheer black curtains shading the
windows.
    Preferring the softer light of candles, he
bypassed the light switch and went to the dressing table. He placed
the candelabra on the table and picked up a candle that stood in a
golden holder with biblical carvings on its base. Each time he lit
the candle he was reminded of his time in Rome. The things there
were so beautiful he couldn’t resist bringing something home for
himself.
    Alex knew his hobby of decorating bordered
on obsessive. He brought back things from his journeys all over the
world to put in his main house in Reno. But his house was
finished.
    On top of that, his casinos practically ran
themselves. His place on the Higher Collective only occupied him
every now and then.
    He found it an awful feeling, having no
purpose.
    He tried to ignore the weakness that plagued
his body with pain, indicating it was time to feed again. Glancing
at his nightstand, he noticed the blinking red message light on his
cellphone. Pushing back the pangs of hunger, he checked the
messages.
    Damion’s smooth voice came through the
earpiece. “Hey Alex, I’ve set a Collective meeting for tonight.
Something is going down with Malcolm ... I really don’t like the
feel of it. I think we all need to get together to talk about this
one. Eleven, conference room.”
    Clicking his phone shut and throwing it on
the bed, Alex went to his closet and rummaged through his clothes.
With exacting care, he chose a black Armani suit, complemented by a
dark red dress shirt. Dark red was his power color, and he loved to
feel powerful.
    In the connecting bathroom he stripped out
of his pajamas. The reflection staring back at him was one