Firedancer

By Romana Grimm

Something's not right with fallen angel Beau Leavold, as evidenced by his seductive yet strange dreams of fragrant fire that offer peace and quiet in a world that has become far too demanding. The shock of nearly losing his son to two psychopathic humans has never dulled, making every moment into his personal perdition. These quiet hours at night are all he has to convince himself that God hasn't Judged him yet, that he is still alive enough to hope. To hope for what, he doesn't know.

His doctor is worried, as is his best friend Maurice, but Beau simply doesn't find it in him to care any longer. He's tired of feeling apathetic and disconnected, and sick of dealing with his callous wife. In his eyes, it doesn't seem unreasonable to want to end it, rather than drag himself through another year. To simply go to sleep, dance in the fire for a while, and never wake up again.

Only the fire doesn't want him dead. Instead, it leads him to a human circus of all things, and to celebrity fire dancer Charlie Dawne, who, ironically, is the young man who couldn't save his son from madness all those years ago. Beau realizes soon that seeking forgiveness from God is one thing, seeking it from a fragile, frozen soul in this world is quite another. It is up to Beau now to accept the gift Fate has given him and build a better life for himself and Charlie, and right the wrongs in both their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Romana Grimm
• Release date: Sep 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223715528

Book preview

Prologue

In his dream, he was burning again. The flames crawled over his skin and caressed his hair, licking along his numb body with blissful heat. The tickling sensation teased a laugh from him, the sound foreign to his jaded ears.

Beau breathed in the scent of the fire and felt the tension drain out of him. If he died now in the flames, surrounded by this wonderful smell, he’d die happy. Such a death simply couldn’t be sad. Not when it felt clean to him, and peaceful. Dignified somehow.

Yes, perhaps this would be for the best, he decided. One of these days he’d help himself to sleep and, hopefully, end his sorry life in a dreamy swirl of merciful heat. Of course, he’d bring his affairs to order before continuing on, but once it was done he could leave everything behind without having to worry. Moreover, he wouldn’t have any regrets.

None at all.

Chapter 1

Beau sat at his desk and stared balefully at the business papers before him. He was still tired, despite sleeping the whole night away without waking once. The weakness in his limbs and the heaviness of his eyelids were testament to the unnatural weariness that dragged him down, and had done so for quite some time now.

And if that wasn’t bad enough already, time was passing sluggishly these days. Whereas in former years whole days had seemingly flown by like mere hours, they now stretched on endlessly, each minute ticking by excruciatingly slowly and prolonging the agonizing lassitude.

At first, he’d been worried about this descent into melancholia, for he had always been a man of purpose. His family healer couldn’t find anything wrong with him, at least not physically, which had been even more worrying. But as the years went by and the fatigue persisted through every treatment, the resistance faded and he accepted the nameless sadness as a part of his life.

Dr. Logan, God bless him, still suggested that he try new things, and find something outside his range of experience to excite him, but every time he did, he lost interest even more quickly than the last time.

The same went with people. The doctor insisted that going out and meeting fresh faces might drag him out of his hole ... unfortunately, the opposite was true. To appease the man’s mounting desperation, Beau did his best, although he felt overwhelmed in company at best and deeply derisive at worst, which wasn’t helped by his moneyed looks. Most people saw at first glance that he was quite wealthy and transformed into obsessive boot-lickers. The closer they tried to get to him, the more he retreated into his shell. It was a vicious cycle out of which he simply could not break. In the end, it had become so bad that even the company of his closest friend sometimes seemed like an unbearable burden.

Beau didn’t know why his spirits were so low, and at this point in time he had simply stopped caring. His dreams offered refuge from a dull and unrewarding life where nothing ever changed. Neither sexual in nature nor annoyingly positive like a hypnotic suggestion, all they ever did was lull him into a cocoon of peace and quiet. They didn’t want or take anything from him ... they just were.

He sighed in annoyance and thought back to this night’s dream. How he wished to just go back to bed and dream himself away! If the afterlife, the heavenly reward, was anything like it – assuming he’d deserved it during his time on earth – he’d be content. The promise of sweet oblivion was almost too much to resist. That was the reason why, when he’d first considered taking the plunge, he’d felt guilty and ashamed, both emotions with which he was not very familiar. He’d never run away, never backed down from a challenge, and now there was this inexplicable urge to lose himself to something so ... trite. Yet nothing had ever seemed so promising. He longed for the tickling flames on his skin and ached for their ensnaring scent. If this was how addiction felt like, then he never wanted to stop clamoring for more.

He had sworn to himself to manage his affairs before he took that last step, though. He was responsible for many people and owed them much for their good work and steadfast loyalty. It was therefore very vexing that the melancholia wouldn’t leave off for even this small thing. If anything, the lassitude got only worse while the expected relief at finally putting his plan into action remained irritatingly absent.

It was, in one word, maddening.

And now here he was, sitting in his study, alternating between glaring at the grandfather clock in the corner as if it were personally responsible for the phlegmatic passage of time, and at his papers that, for all they managed to inform him, could’ve been written in Chinese characters. Waiting for visitors was a right pain in his opinion, and he hoped that this one would be over soon.

Finally, the clock’s ornate hands slipped forward, announcing the eleventh hour with a resonating gong. Only seconds later his butler Nielsen appeared in the open door.

Dr. Logan to see you, sir, he announced solemnly.

Send him in, Nielsen, thank you. Beau rose from his chair and smoothed his unwrinkled vest.

Nielsen bowed slightly and stepped aside to allow a short, portly man entry. Will that be all, sir?

Would you like some tea, Dr. Logan? At the man’s shake of the head, Beau said, Yes, thank you, Nielsen.

Very good, sir. The butler closed the door after himself and left the two men alone.

Logan settled in the chair Beau offered him and gave him one of his patented healer's stares. Thank you for receiving me on such short notice, I appreciate it.

I admit to being surprised, Beau replied evenly. I thought our next appointment was in two weeks?

Dr. Logan’s lips pursed slightly. Originally, yes, but there are some things I wanted to discuss with you as soon as possible. We could’ve done that via telephone of course, only you seem to be curiously absent whenever I call.

Beau smirked at that, only to have the brief sensation of pleasure dulled again by stifling boredom. I take it that Maurice has been blabbing again?

He’s only worried, Dr. Logan replied. In fact, it was his idea that I come to see you early.

Yes, well, you’re here now, so what did you want to talk about?"

Let’s get the usual things out of the way first, shall we? Dr. Logan reached out his hand. Let me see how you really are.

Beau took the hand with a roll of his eyes. Nothing has changed in the last two weeks, obviously.

I disagree. You’re looking far too pale lately, and you lost quite a bit of weight, not to mention your troubling blood samples. And look at your energy levels! You haven’t been consuming enough again, have you? A tortoise has more zeal than you these days. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re mourning, although I wouldn’t know why.

There have been no deaths or tragedies in my family since the last time we talked, Beau replied, huffing quietly. My lovely wife is well, as is my son.

Dr. Logan squeezed Beau’s long fingers gently. You’re not fooling me, so don’t try to play it down. You’re getting worse at an alarming speed, refusing food like that when it’s nearly thrown at you. He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "It got me thinking, actually. Have you ever considered that, perhaps, you’re ... Searching?"

No. Absolutely not. Beau abruptly pulled his hand from the other man’s grasp and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Are you sure?

"Quite. I don’t see any faces in my dreams, nor do I hear voices. Searching is a myth."

Some couples actually found each other this way. Not many, granted, but enough to make it real. Logan took up his briefcase, opened it, and pulled out a sheaf of paper. It’s a little farfetched, but I’m grasping at straws here.

Beau sneered. "Farfetched is not the word I’d use."

Dr. Logan continued as if he hadn’t heard him, "These are reports of known Searches. They cover the last hundred years, some of them in astounding detail. Please look at them, perhaps it’ll help. He slid the papers over the desk’s polished surface. Do it for your own sake and that of your family and friends. It’s killing me to see you waste away like this."

And what will you do if this is useless? Beau asked, eyeing the reports contemptuously. Will you finally give it up and leave me in peace?

Not before Maurice does, Dr. Logan said calmly. And you know he has infinite patience if need be.

Beau growled quietly. Damn bloodsucker.

Read the reports, Dr. Logan repeated, and next week we’ll talk about it. Make an effort, Beau, alright? He closed his briefcase and rose to his feet. Take care, and hang on. We’ll get to the bottom of this.

I'm sure we will.

The doctor sighed before bidding Beau a good day. Nielsen opened the door for him and then, too soon and yet not soon enough, Beau was alone again with his bleak thoughts.

For a while he just sat there, staring at the small pile of paper. The first page mocked him with its letters and phrases until he had enough. Words like knowing and feeling had no place in his existence; if it were so, he’d surely never have landed where he was now.

No, Logan’s pretty reports were rubbish and he would treat them as such. What a pity that his trash bin stood just out of reach, making it too strenuous a task for him to throw them away. Instead, Beau did the next best thing: he opened the top drawer of his desk, grabbed the papers, and dropped them unceremoniously inside.

Chapter 2

Ever since his doctor’s visit, the soothing dreams of burning alive became fewer and fewer. Beau blamed Logan for it; his talk of Searching had unsettled him, not that he felt comfortable admitting it even to himself. Even worse, the papers on fulfilled Searches were still there, waiting patiently for him to break down and read them. Every day he sat in his study and pondered how to best throw them out, and then, miraculously, it was already nightfall and the reports were still there.

Relaxing was impossible once his mistakes started making themselves known again. Lying to Dr. Logan was one thing, lying to himself quite another.

Night after night, yet another of his many failures plagued him, letting him feel the whole barrage of guilt, hatred, and impotency that he had suppressed so successfully with his fiery