Alien Sleeping Beauty by Zara Zenia

Author:Zara Zenia [Zenia, Zara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Jinurak

I was in my brother Lortnam’s office quarters when my cell phone communication device began to blink and buzz, alerting me of a new message receipt.

Lortnam and I exchanged a guarded glance with one another, and my heart pounded. A tingly sensation rippled up and down my spine. I was quickly having to learn how to expect the unexpected.

“Do you think that’s her again?” he asked, referring to Ariana.

“I hope so,” I said and switched on the screen, barely able to draw in a breath from the anxious suspense swirling through my brain.

I immediately stood up like a rocket booster. “It’s from Ariana. The message is from Ariana.”

I was practically jumping up and down with excitement. Every time I received a message from her, it gave me the hope that she was still out there somewhere, clinging to the hope that I would soon find her. As long as I was still obtaining her clues, I knew she was still alive and unharmed.

Lortnam leaned in closer, his face etched in curiosity. He raised his eyebrows. “What does it say?”

I narrowed my eyes in concentration as I peered down at the screen, burying my nose in the encrypted whimsical fairy type of script. The font was difficult to read, but I managed. I would need to decode this message too.

“It’s written in that same poetic style as before,” I said and glanced at Lortnam who looked intrigued.

His eyebrow furrowed and he had a hungry expression on his face as if he couldn’t wait to hear what Ariana had to say this time. I had been updating him as I found things out about the case and now, we were having an in-person meeting to discuss and brainstorm tactics.

The witch is conniving.

I’m not thriving.

I’m trapped in a vivid painting,

Just trying my best to keep waiting.

The wicked tell me not to trust you.

If I want release I must strike out at you.

Please tell me there is another way.

Until then I will keep my trust in the witch at bay.

I read the poem out loud once, then twice, then a third time at the request of Lortnam as we both attempted to dissect the message.

“The witch?” Lortnam frowned. “Am I to assume that the witch she speaks of is Nora Morse?”

“I think that would be an accurate assumption,” I said.

Lortnam rubbed his temples and sighed, wandering over to the floor to ceiling windows in his office that offered panoramic views of the city. Unlike me who prefers peace, quiet and privacy in my office lair, Lortnam wanted to be able to see the world going on around him and be immersed in the thick of the action.

I was livid with Nora’s ploy. I cracked my knuckles and balled my fists. My temper was flaring but I had no reasonable outlet for which to vent my frustrations. I wanted to pound my fist through the wall, but this palace didn’t belong to me.

I began to pace around the room hastily, huffing as I made bountiful strides, yet going nowhere.

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