When Kira woke up, her back ached and she was freezing. She pulled Tristan’s blazer tighter around herself, fending off the cool November morning air, before realizing it was probably Tristan himself that was chilling her.
She sat up and maneuvered out of his arms, trying not to wake him. Oddly, Kira didn’t feel embarrassed at all about spending the night with him in his car. She loved having him hold her and comfort her. Sure, her parents would flip when she got home, and she would have to figure out what to say to Luke. But for once, Kira wasn’t going to worry about that.
She looked out the car window at the grounds brushed with dew. The sun had just started peeking through the sky. Soft tendrils warmed her skin, and Kira realized that the events of the previous night had awakened something inside of her. She felt different. More in control, as though her memories had allowed her to acknowledge her birthright—to understand that it wasn’t horrible but beautiful. She could save people. Perhaps, she had been born not for chaos but for life.
Kira opened her palm and let a little flame rise to rest on her hand like a small campfire. Her fingers warmed instantly, as did her body. Feeling the sun gather on her skin left her complete, content. The swelling under her eyes receded, her scratches from the forest mended themselves, and finally Kira found something better to wake up too than coffee.
"You’re beautiful. You know that?"
Kira turned to Tristan, happy to wake up to his barely opened eyes and lazy smile. Distracted, she let her light grow, until she saw Tristan wince.
"Sorry," she said and winked it out of existence.
"I don’t mind." He sat up.
"So what now?" Kira asked, letting her head fall back on his shoulder.
"Do you need to go home?"
Kira shook her head. There were too many things they needed to talk about. She wanted Tristan to open up to her and tell her about his past. Kira knew that if she went home, he would close himself off again to protect her.
"Good, then just trust me," he said, hopping into the driver’s seat while Kira moved to the passenger side. Tristan started the engine and slid his hand into hers as he sped out of the school parking lot.
Kira couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had seen them sleeping in Tristan’s car last night. Someone must have. They were in the middle of the parking lot and not everyone had left the school dance before they got there. Luke might have walked by and glanced in, but Kira didn’t even want to think about that. He would be so angry and hurt. Luke would never understand why she wanted Tristan, but she and Tristan were the same in many ways—both outcasts who didn’t really belong anywhere.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Tristan asked.
Kira relaxed and placed her feet on the dashboard, letting her eyes meet his, knowing they sparkled like Emma had said earlier.
"I’m thinking I’m happy just sitting here with you like it’s completely normal." She smiled, and he grinned back, clutching her fingers a little tighter. "I’m also thinking, damn I wish I’d brought a change of clothes." Tristan snickered, and Kira glanced at her leather-covered legs, happy she at least had his coat.
"Don’t worry. We’re not going anywhere public."
"And where are we going? You don’t have to be so mysterious all the time."
"Maybe I just like keeping you on your toes."
Kira rolled her eyes and settled in to her seat some more, listening to the music and letting Tristan concentrate on the driving.
Eventually they pulled up next to a riverbank. Tristan led Kira along the shore, pulling her until they reached a giant oak tree with branches that reached out over the water. Tristan slid on the branch in front of her and then helped Kira up. Kira let her back rest against the tree trunk, watching Tristan as he inched further out past the few feet of marsh, until his feet dangled over flowing water. Kira listened to the birds chirp, the water swoosh, and the trees rustle, and felt at peace.
"It’s beautiful. What river are we on? How’d you find it?"
"The Ashley River. I’ve come here ever since I was a boy."
"One hundred and fifty years ago?" Kira asked.
This was what they had come here for—to talk and to tell their stories. Kira looked at Tristan, watched him peel bark off the branch with his fingers, and struggle with what to say.
"It’s okay," she murmured, wishing he would move closer so she could hold his hands and provide some comfort.
Tristan took a deep breath, let the air ease out, and began to tell his story. "I was born in 1847, right here in Charleston, to two wealthy plantation owners." He glanced up at her, trying to gauge Kira’s reaction, but she just nodded encouragingly. "My house wasn’t far from this spot, and I used to play on this tree as a little boy. I was often by myself, left alone to explore and play. You see, my mother was the only one who ever understood me. We’d go into Charleston and she’d buy me expensive paints. The first time she bought me a canvas, she took me up to the steeple I showed you and told me to draw the city. It was life changing."
He paused, and Kira tried to picture him as a little boy, hiding away with paints and drawing pads, exploring the forests alone. It was a sad image of a lonely childhood, and Kira was suddenly more grateful than ever for Chloe and the parents she did have.
"You have to understand that I never liked slavery," he continued, "never wanted the family business, and never wanted any part of cotton. That was for my brother. I needed beauty and not savagery. But when the war came, I did my duty. We both went off fighting, my brother fighting for power and I fighting to protect the city I loved, but not the lifestyle. One night in 1864, the Northern army surprised my regiment and I got shot twice—once in the thigh, once in the shoulder. I fell instantly and watched as my fellow soldiers retreated to leave me stranded. Other dying men lay moaning all around me, and I slowly bled out, awake for what seemed like hours, hearing others fall silent beside me, until a man came. I saw him kneel with the dying, leaning in close. At first, I thought he was a priest saying prayers for the dead, but then he came closer, and I saw the blood all over his face and started screaming. For some reason he took pity on me and saved my life by turning me. When I woke up, feeling the hunger, I knew hate for the first time. I wished I’d died."
Tristan eased his eyes shut, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. Kira knew he was struggling with the memories of the life he had lost. He opened his lids and stared out into the distance, at the trees on the far side of the riverbank, swaying in the wind. Kira had a feeling he was staring through them to a scene she would never herself be able to see.
"Aldrich, my maker, was not a good man. He kept dungeons filled with human prisoners, enjoyed torture and murder. For thirty years, I stayed with him. He forced me to kill, to feed off terrified and crying women, and I thought it was the only way to live. That I was damned to that hell forever."
Tristan let out a sad smile and ran his hand through his hair. His shoulders were hunched, but he turned his head to look at Kira. "One night, a band of Punishers raided his home. We all fled, but I purposely let the conduits separate us. I knew it was my only chance to escape, so I let him think I’d died. I’ve never seen him since. I don’t know whether he lived or died, and I never want to."
Kira wanted to cry for him, for the horrible things he had lived through. He moved closer to her, back toward the shore, and Kira grabbed his hand when he was within reach. She pulled him to her, until he had shifted so that his back rested against her stomach.
Hugging her arms around him, she whispered, "It’s all right, now."
"I may be a vampire, but I’m not a bad man. I swear it." He sounded as though he was about to cry. Kira realized his memories still haunted him.
"I know," she said and nodded, hoping he felt the movement against his head, understanding she was sincere.
"After I escaped, I kept to myself for a long time. I fed off people because I had to, but never enjoyed it and never killed again. I traveled, jumping from one city to the
next, trying to see the wonders of the world and meeting different sorts of vampires along the way. Some were just as bad as Aldrich, and some were just like me. During the first World War, I scavenged on soldiers dying in Europe, but a few years later a discovery changed my life. I stumbled upon a Russian blood bank, found bags full of blood, and realized my days of feeding on humans were over."
"When did you meet the others?" Kira asked, thinking of Diana, Jerome, and John.
"I knew Diana from the start." Tristan angled his head to look at Kira. She hoped she covered her shock well enough. Diana and Tristan had known each other for more than a century?
"She was with Aldrich for years before he turned me. She took to his teachings far more than I ever did, but she always believed we were meant to be together. She was the one who helped me escape, and I never heard from her again, until I returned to Charleston fifteen years ago, finally ready to come back home. I was tired of drifting, of being alone, and I missed Charleston. It hadn’t changed all that much in one hundred years, and I was walking through the old town one night when I saw her with Jerome and John. She welcomed me back with open arms, and even though I disapprove of their lifestyles, it felt so nice to have a family again. But all that changed when I met you."
"Why?" Kira couldn’t understand how two months of barely knowing her had changed Tristan so deeply that he would betray the one person he had known for one hundred years. Because surely that’s what Diana saw it as—betrayal. The past two months had flipped Kira's life upside down, but she never imagined they had done the same to Tristan.
"When I first saw you, in the classroom, I had no idea what you were. I never dreamed conduits could form mixed breeds, but Diana knew right away, and she wanted to capture you and kill you. As soon as she said it, I don’t know why, but all I could think about was protecting you. Well, some protector I turned out to be." He shook his head and sat up, jumping from the tree to stand on the shore. He knelt down to gather some flat stones to skip along the water’s glassy surface.
Kira watched as he beat himself up over the events of the past few weeks. No wonder he always seemed sad, Kira thought. He blamed himself for everything, even things completely outside his control. "I’m alive, aren’t I?"
"Because you discovered your power. Diana almost killed you."
"But Tristan…" She sat up and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to face her. "I might have never discovered anything if you hadn’t helped me, in the classroom, when you scared me. It awakened my power, made me know I could somehow help myself. And let’s not forget that you saved me from almost drowning."
His features softened and he leaned back against the tree branch, covering her hand with his own, keeping it securely on his shoulder. "You must have questions. Fire away."
Kira chewed her lip, thinking of what to ask first. Her mind was practically bursting, but she didn’t know where to start. What do you ask someone who is old enough to be your grandfather but looks young enough to date? Normally, Kira thought, a guy his age would be married…married? How many girls had he been with? Kira had only been dating for a handful of years, and she had already had at least one boyfriend. Tristan had been doing it for one hundred and fifty years. He must have had tons of lovers.
Kira pulled her hand from his, suddenly very conscious of their age difference. She’d never done more than kiss a boy, and she could only imagine what sort of creepy, vampire things Tristan had done.
"Kira? What are you thinking?" He turned around, resting his elbows on the tree branch and looking up at her.
"Um…" Kira twiddled her thumbs, fighting the urge to blush. "So, how many girls have you, you know…dated?" God, she thought, why am I acting like a thirteen-year-old?
Tristan burst out laughing. "Of all the things, that’s what you want to know?"
"Well, it’s a start. Why? Something to hide?" she asked, lifting her eyebrows. Kira was becoming defensive, and it brought her out of her dazed schoolgirl mood.
"No. I don’t even know. No one serious, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ve been around for a while, so I’ve met some women along the way and, well…" He trailed off.
Kira hid her face in her hands, suddenly not wanting to know. No one serious—that was good enough for her.
"New topic please," she spoke, still not meeting his eyes. "Can I see your fangs?" She dropped her hands, feeling like a little kid with a new toy.
Tristan rolled his eyes at her but closed his mouth and opened it a second later after a strained expression crossed his features. They were smaller than Kira had remembered with Diana, not nearly as frightening as she had imagined. Pearly white and seemingly delicate, but Kira knew they were lethal, literally. They looked sharp, she thought and reached her finger out to touch one, but Tristan moved away.
"Don’t. I don’t want to hurt you," he said, letting his teeth recede back into his gums. Kira wasn’t sure if he meant hurting her finger, or doing something a little worse, so she left it at that.
"So, what did Diana mean about getting ‘her Tristan’ back? Can she do that? Can she actually change you?" Kira leaned back against the tree again. Diana’s threat had seemed real and much more a promise than empty words.
"No. I should probably explain more about Diana though." He sighed, resigned. "When Aldrich brought me back, during the change, Diana was the one who cared for me. Afterward, she taught me how to eat and survive and control the urges. She always believed I loved life with Aldrich and that I would someday love her. But years passed, and she could see my discontent. When she helped me escape by leading Aldrich the other direction, away from the Punishers and from me, I think she always expected for me to find her and return to her. When I finally did, I was a different man. She was disgusted that I ate from bags and refused live humans. She still is. I think she believes that if I fall off the bandwagon and drink from a human one time, I won’t be able to stop. That I’ll become the monster Aldrich made me into again." He looked up at Kira, his expression hard and full of conviction. "I never will, Kira. That was never who I am, and I won’t go back, no matter what Diana tries to do."
"I’m confused though." Kira thought back to the auditorium, when she discovered what Tristan and the others were. He was stronger than all of them. If she had never gotten hit by the brick—never started bleeding and distracted him—Tristan would have beaten them all. He had thrown them around like rag dolls and not a single punch had touched him. "In the gym, you laughed when they threatened you. They were all afraid to challenge you. Why? Diana’s older, shouldn’t she be more powerful?"
He shook his head. "The age thing is just a myth. Your human blood determines power and strength. If you were strong as a human, your strength will be amplified, same with speed. Even abilities, like being able to read people’s facial expressions can turn into actual mind reading when you’re changed into a vampire. I think that’s why Aldrich turned me. He must have known I’d be as strong as I am. But age doesn’t affect it at all. I could be stronger than a thousand-year-old vampire, but he’s had more time to make friends and garner power, so he’s more untouchable."
"What do you mean?"
"Vampires have their own set of rules. Almost every country has some sort of governing council with heads, sort of like senators, in each of the major cities. If I wanted to travel to, I don’t know, Boston, I would need to ask permission first. There are a lot more rules than you would think."
"But all the rules I can think of seem to be wrong," Kira said, remembering Tristan in the church and lying in the sun.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we’re outside during the daylight, and you don’t seem to be bursting into flame. How did all those rumors get started?"
"It was…" He thought of the right word. "Beneficial for vampires to start those rumors. That way, anytime I wore a silver cross or went surfing, no one would even consider the possibility of the supernatural. Just a precaution."
"So, I’m the o
nly way you can die?"
Tristan shrugged, and Kira looked down at the dim burn marks on her hands from the night before. It hadn’t even hurt that time. The fire had come completely naturally. "Can I ever become a vampire?"
"No," Tristan said quietly. "A conduit can only be killed by a vampire. Their blood rejects the turning."
Kira assumed as much even though Luke had never bothered to tell her that. She was relieved in a way, knowing that she could never become a vampire. She would have never wanted that, a life of drinking blood, even if it meant a life with Tristan.
"Can you ever skip out on the whole immortality thing?" she asked.
Tristan shook his head silently.
They really were doomed. She would grow old and die, probably killing vampires along the way. He would be young and strong forever, and there was no way around that.
"Is all of this even worth it?" Kira murmured, staring out at the water. The tide had risen, and the waves were choppier now, breaking into white heads along the surface and swallowing the marshes at the riverbank. "I mean, I wouldn’t mind the whole cougar aspect, having a boyfriend who looks seventeen when I’m at the ripe old age of sixty, but who are we kidding?"
"We have to try," Tristan urged. "Maybe you can live with never knowing, but I can’t spend eternity wondering what could have been. And if we end up falling in love, truly and deeply, we can deal with it when the time comes. I wouldn’t mind having a sugar-momma." He winked at her, and Kira's mood lightened a little bit.
"I’ll marry a rich man, and you can be the hot pool boy I have a scandalous affair with."
"Or, I can make a ton of money and pay for all the plastic surgery to keep you looking young. Pumped up lips and a little Botox for the wrinkles—I don’t like it when faces actually move you know."
"Can’t wait," Kira said and pretended to growl like a cougar. He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her from the tree branch and into his arms. They slipped from the shade of the overhanging tree into the heat of the sun, and it refreshed Kira, giving her energy.
"What does the sun feel like to you?" Kira asked, loving the serenity she always felt when outdoors.
"Sort of like an electric current prickling my skin. It stings, but I don’t mind."
"And what does my sunlight feel like to you?"
"I imagine it’s comparable to being burned at the stake. Every part of my body boils under the heat."
"I’m sorry," Kira said, and Tristan brushed the lock of hair that had fallen over her face back behind her ear.
"I don’t blame you. You were only protecting yourself. Besides, as soon as you stop, the pain does too, in an instant."
"Still…"
"Nope. No feeling sorry for the vampire. Besides, it’s my turn to ask you a question." She looked up at him, waiting. "Are you really a mix between Protector and Punisher? I thought so, but without tasting more of you, I can’t be sure."
Gross, Kira thought, tasting me? "There will be no blood exchanges today, so I’ll just tell you that I am and you’ll have to trust me."
He smiled, showing her that he had popped his teeth out again, jokingly.
But then he frowned, saying, "You should dye your hair. It’s too obvious. If word gets out that you exist, every vampire around the world will be coming after you."
"And then all hell breaks loose, right?" Kira ran a hand through her curls. She had never even thought about her hair as dangerous, as giving her away. Her eyes maybe, but how deadly could a strawberry blonde mess really be?
"Let’s hope we never have to figure that out," he said.
Kira silently agreed. All she needed was to let go for a second, lower her guard and then bam! She remembered her parents, how vampires had jumped them, coming out of the bushes with no warning sign. If a single vampire ever caught her, he could keep her around, drinking her almost dead for immunity, then letting her blood replenish for more supplies. Kira saw Tristan fight Diana, John, and Jerome. Without their light, conduits were no match for vampires. Our fire is our only weapon, Kira thought. Conduits needed to exist, but she could mean their end.
"You know, you seem different to me," Kira said, shaking her head and changing the subject. No more dark thoughts, not while relishing the cool embrace of his arms around her, comforting despite the cold. "Happier, somehow. Like the brooding, sad Tristan has been mostly replaced by the mischievous one."
"I am." He smiled against her forehead. "You don’t even know what a relief it is to talk to someone about all of this. I’ve been holding it in for one hundred years, and finally, I can openly and honestly talk about how I feel. I can be myself."
"I understand," Kira said, as she rested her head on his chest, noticing the steady beat of his heart. "I can’t talk to Luke about how I feel about all of this. He would never understand why I’m even talking to you. He doesn’t know what it feels like to be trapped. I never asked for these powers. I never asked to be a conduit, and the potential end of the world, as Luke described it, if some vampire becomes immune through me. I never wanted any of it. But he’s always lived this life. He always wanted it, and he loves his job, I can tell. He told me to keep the healing thing to myself, you know? He thinks the conduit council won’t react kindly. It makes me question what they’re like, whether I even want to be a part of it."
"I was wondering about that," Tristan said, running his finger along the spot on Kira’s face where Diana had cut her. "There was no scratch or scar the next time I saw you. I thought Luke might have done something. I actually don’t know very much about conduits."
"I think I’m the only one who can heal things. I don’t know how I do it, it’s just sort of an instinct." They stood in silence, Kira waiting for Tristan’s inevitable question.
"So, what are you going to tell him?" Tristan asked, and Kira moved her head to look up at him, reading the vulnerability in his features. She knew what he meant, what would she tell him about them, about this conversation and the intimacy they now shared. Surely, Kira would tell him about finding Jerome and John in the woods, about the memory she recalled and how she could now control herself so much more. But what about the dance she and Tristan had shared by the lake, or the private moments they shared now, talking about the darkest parts of themselves? She couldn’t hide from Luke forever, but she wasn’t sure if she could come clean and risk losing him.
"I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I just…I don’t know how he’ll react. And I need him, he’s my only connection to the conduits, the only person I can learn from."
"It’s okay," Tristan said, but Kira saw the quick flash of hurt in his eyes—eyes so icy blue she had at first wondered if there even was emotion in there. Now she saw them differently, not icy but deep, like a pond on a calm day when the surface seems hard at first, but something as small as a pebble can drop smoothly in, destroying the semblance of steel. Kira had dropped in, broken the surface of his soul, and she didn’t know when she would reach the bottom.
Tristan cupped her cheek with his hand, staring into her eyes as well. Kira wondered what he saw there. Were her eyes a raging fire that had suddenly calmed to a flickering flame? Her heart seemed to stop as he kept looking, reading her fears and desires, her vulnerability, and the parts of her she tried to keep hidden from everyone else. Then, almost as if in slow motion, he leaned his face down to hers, letting his lips gently grace Kira’s, and the moment of calm was gone.
Her heart pounded, and she stood on her tippytoes, eagerly returning his kisses.
Chapter Thirteen
Ignite (Midnight Fire Series Book One) Page 13
