Frost (Midnight Ice Book One)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  Voila, Pandora thought, taking a deep breath, trying to ignore the way her chest clenched painfully tight at the idea. Here goes nothing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The vampire reintegration center was a small village of houses set apart from the rest of the town while still remaining within the protective confines of the UV wall, safe from any vampires with a grudge. The roads were the same tree-lined, manicured roads. The homes were the same quaint, white picket fence, rocking chair on the front porch, small-town homes. But the mood was completely different. Whereas the main center of Sonnyville seemed too good to be true, this area felt real to Pandora, felt more relatable. There was a darkness in the air. A heavy cloud had settled on the streets, an undeniable sense of being in between. People were walking and chatting quietly to each other, but their smiles were hesitant, their laughter soft, their eyes not quite as bright.

  And when Pandora walked by, everyone turned to look.

  Panic.

  Alarm.

  Nostalgia.

  Empathy.

  Pandora could smell it all in the air, an odd jumble that sent the hairs at the back of her neck straight up, that made her stomach tie into a mess of knots.

  Kira must have sensed it, or maybe she'd just been through this enough times to know, because she leaned over and whispered, "Don't mind them. It’s not you, per se, just the reminder of what they once were, of the things they once did, the way they once lived. Happens every time a new recruit comes in."

  Pandora nodded, keeping her eyes straight ahead. They stopped when they reached a small grassy square.

  "Crap," Kira muttered, turning to Luke. "Any idea where he is? I thought he had a history class in the square at this hour."

  Luke swallowed, looking up at the clear blue sky as he shrugged and pursed his lips. "No idea."

  Kira frowned. "He's at it again, isn’t he?"

  "Don't know what you mean…"

  Kira narrowed her eyes, grumbling, "He lets you use the flamethrower one time, and you totally flip. Traitor." And then she turned, breathing in deep, bringing her hands to create a cone in front of her lips, and shouted, "Tristan!"

  With her hypersenses on high alert, spurred on by curiosity, Pandora reached out, searching for a response. Not too far away, she heard an audible groan and the click of what sort of sounded like the safety of a gun.

  She turned to the noise and watched as a boy around her age, maybe a few years older, ran out from behind a house, racing toward them. Immediately, she grinned appreciatively. He was dressed in head-to-toe camouflage with a rifle strapped across his back, another gun in his hands, and what looked to be a sash of rubber bullets draped over his chest. And, the boy was built. Even beneath the clothes, she could tell he was chiseled, but it was his face that drew her in. Strong jaw, shaggy black hair, striking hooded eyes laced with honey highlights, and soft lips that were smiling wide, digging dimples into his cheeks. But there was depth there too, a shadow over his irises, hinting at something more.

  Part deranged bad boy.

  Part brooding dreamer.

  He's going to be my reintegration teacher? Pandora thought.

  But before she could introduce herself, Kira cut in, giving him a once-over as she crossed her arms and cocked her hip to the side. "Teaching your history class outside, are you? Taking advantage of the early fall weather, isn’t that what you told me?" Tristan deepened his smile, lifting one corner of his lips higher than the other, making his dimple even more visible. Kira just shook her head. "Those dimples won't get you out of this one, buddy. I've become immune."

  "I never lied," he told her quickly, voice sounding measurably proper, hinting that while he looked to be in his early twenties, his true age could be far older. "I said I was teaching a history class outside, and this is a history class, and I am outside. I just neglected to tell you that the history of modern warfare class is a little more hands-on than most."

  "Oh, come on," Kira snapped. "You look like a freaking GI Joe."

  Pandora bit her lip to keep from laughing, unable to stop a small snort from escaping. She glanced quickly at Jax, eyes sparkling with mirth and confusion, but he was watching on with a somewhat vacant expression.

  But before she had time to wonder why, Kira spun on her heels, pulling Pandora's attention away as she dug a finger into Luke’s chest. "And you knew!"

  Luke took a step back, holding his hands up. "Whoa, I didn’t know know, I just, well, sort of expected."

  Kira grimaced, muttering, eyes going to the sky as if praying for strength. "I think I actually miss the days when you two hated each other."

  But before she could say anything else, Tristan stepped around her, offering his hand to Pandora. "Tristan Kent. Pleased to meet you. I'm the head of the cured vampire reintegration program here in Sonnyville."

  Pandora gripped his fingers. "I'm Pandora, and this is Jax."

  Tristan reached a hand out to Jax but then frowned just slightly. "You're not…"

  "No," Jax said, cutting in quickly. "I'm here for moral support. I'm a titan, and Dory was too before she changed."

  "Well, she will be again," Tristan said nonchalantly, shrugging. "If the other supernaturals we've cured are anything to go by."

  "Oh." Pandora frowned. "I won't be human?"

  For some reason, she'd thought—maybe hoped—the cure might cure everything, might solve all her problems, might take the idea of Jax and home and the titans off her back.

  "Nah," Tristan said. "You should go back to being what you were, which I guess in this case was a titan, though we've never cured one of you before. Why? Does that change anything?"

  "No," Pandora said, voice determined.

  At her response, Jax's heart flipped inside his chest.

  She squinted, trying to read beyond his blank expression, listening as his pulse raced faster and faster with each passing second. She'd been too distracted by her own thoughts, too distracted by the conduits, to notice his shift in demeanor, but the subtle hints were there. His rising body temperature. The light sheen of sweat on his hands. How he licked his lips, trying to relax them, trying to smooth out the thin line they'd stretched into.

  Was he holding back his excitement?

  Trying not to overwhelm her?

  But then why were his teeth slightly clenched? Why was his chest burning, blood pumping in a way that made her hungry, made it hard to focus? Jax wanted this. Jax had wanted this all along, had dragged her to Florida, begged her to get the cure. He wanted her to be Dory again. So why the sudden hesitation?

  Pandora met Jax's gaze, finding the light had vanished from his expression, finding he was watching her with torn, almost sad eyes, as though wrestling with an idea, struggling with some inner demon.

  Maybe he's only just realizing that I meant what I said—I'm not going back. Maybe he's only just realizing what the cure really means is good-bye.

  "Right," Tristan said, interrupting her thoughts. He blinked away his curiosity, returning to the business at hand, and Pandora tried to do the same. The cure, she was here for the cure because she wanted it, because she needed to remember, and because deep down she wanted to be human again. And Jax? Whatever was going on with him would have to wait. "Well, there's just a little bit of information we like to give you first, and then we get right to the cure as soon as possible."

  "Where's Pavia?" Kira asked, glancing around.

  Pandora's brows came together. Something about that name sounded familiar, triggered a memory buried far away in the back of her mind.

  Tristan looked sheepishly at Kira. "She, well, took another history of modern warfare class out into the woods for some more realistic training."

  Kira took a tight breath through clenched teeth and then slowly released. "Well, can you tell her to come back? She's always so good with them when they wake up."

  Tristan nodded, reaching into one of his many pockets and then pulling out a phone. He tapped his fingers on the screen a few times, eyes focused
and concentrated, but nothing seemed to be happening, and his expression was growing more and more frustrated.

  "Oh, give me that," Kira said, snatching the phone from his fingers with a sigh. "You've figured out how to use an AK-47 but still can't for the life of you understand how to use a smartphone." A few moments later, after some under-her-breath grumbling from Kira, the phone in her hand buzzed. "Okay, she's on her way, but she told us to get started."

  "Great." Tristan turned back to Pandora. "If you'll just follow us, we'll take you to the cure room, talk for a little while, and then get started."

  Pandora swallowed, still not totally sure but resolutely determined. "Lead the way."

  And he did. As a group of five, they set out, traversing the streets toward a destination that would change Pandora's life, would change everything. And the more they walked, the more unsure she became, the more nervous, the more uncertain.

  "You're not coming home, are you?" Jax whispered, jolting her out of her thoughts. He'd slid silently closer as they walked, now reaching out to slip his hand into hers, warm and the slightest bit sweaty yet still comforting, still a jolt of caffeine shocking her nerves to life. His touch had always had that effect on her, and it probably always would.

  Pandora looked up into his tumultuous gaze, swallowing. "No."

  And she meant it. The cure changed nothing.

  She wasn’t going home, not as a vampire and certainly not as a titan. When this was over, Pandora was still leaving, would still be running. And when their seven days were up, Jax had promised not to follow.

  He closed his eyes, shutting them tight as though blocking out the idea. A small burst of disappointed air escaped his lips.

  "I'm sorry, but I can’t go back. I just can’t," she said, squeezing his hand. But he knew her better than anyone else, knew her story even better than she did, so he should have expected it. "But I'll be twenty-one in less than a year…"

  Jax's chest burned so hot Pandora could sense the heat surging into the air around him as his throat constricted painfully tight, making it a struggle for him to swallow, to even speak.

  "I mean that as a good thing," she said, laughing darkly. "I'll be twenty-one and out of the initiation range, so my father will leave me alone. Maybe then I'll come find you. Maybe then I'll be your stalker, and you'll be on the run from me. Or maybe it can be like we always planned…"

  Maybe we can be together, Pandora finished silently, a futile dream.

  Jax lifted the corner of his lip halfheartedly.

  But it was no use.

  There was nothing to say.

  He'd chosen initiation. She'd chosen freedom.

  And there was no way to come back from that. And when she finally remembered what had happened, finally remembered those last few hours that passed between them, Pandora suspected the divide would only be further set in stone.

  She released his hand, realizing they were no longer walking. The conduits had brought the group to a stop in front of a large brick building that sort of resembled a Victorian manor house or a really expensive private school. But Pandora suspected it was something more, the heart of the reintegration program. And her suspicions were confirmed when the conduits led them inside with Jax trailing silently at the back.

  The inside of the building was sparsely decorated. The front hallway focused on a fireplace surrounded by seats and couches, a warm place to sit and chat. But mostly, they passed classrooms filled with chairs and desks and a chalkboard at the front. A few rooms were set up like offices. A few more with lounge chairs and private spaces to talk more seriously. And in the far corner of the building was the cure room.

  When Tristan twisted the knob, Pandora's heart sank at the foreboding click. He pushed open the door to welcome her inside. She swallowed, trying to send some moisture down her suddenly dry throat, but it was no use. Deep in her core, there was an undeniable voice telling her to turn and run, telling her this was the wrong choice, telling her there was no way she would come back out this door as anything but broken.

  And yet, she stepped through.

  Because those doubts and fears were sewn into her soul, were part of the wall around her heart, part of the block keeping those long-lost memories away. And even stronger than the dread was the need to know, the desire to remember, the demand to finally face what she'd spent the past few years running from.

  Jax wouldn't look at her.

  "You can take a seat here," Tristan said, gesturing to an empty armchair with plump cushions.

  Pandora listened, and the rest of the group sat around her in a circle, dragging less-comfortable chairs from the edges of the room.

  "How long have you been a vampire?" Tristan asked, eyes deep and concerned, so utterly honest it made Pandora uncomfortable, as though he could see her in a way other people who'd never experienced this life couldn't.

  "Four years," she answered, gaze going to Jax as though pulled by a magnet. He was finally watching her, seafoam eyes intense against his dark skin, bright but almost in a pained way instead of an excited one, an expression silently whispering good-bye.

  "Good," Tristan said, pulling Pandora's focus back to him. "That'll make things much easier for you. I was over a hundred and fifty when I was cured, and let me tell you, the world can change a lot in a century and a half."

  Pandora furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"

  "Well," he said, starting slow and easing into the details. "A lot of vampires don't remember anything about being a vampire after they're cured. Take me, for example. I thought it was still eighteen sixty-four, and I couldn't remember a single thing about my life. We think it's because human souls go dormant during the change. Vampires are so cold, almost frozen on the inside, and we think the freeze puts the human soul to sleep in an odd way. It's what allows vampires to act so brutal, to do things no human in his or her right mind would imagine doing. But when a vampire is cured, the human soul is brought back to life in the fire, and the only way to reconcile the evil acts performed as a vampire once returned to a human is to simply block them out. But since you've only been a vampire for four years, there hopefully aren’t too many bad memories to worry about, and the world hasn't changed so much that it'll be completely new to you. You have a much better chance at remembering. Younger vampires always seem to retain more, to do a little better with the cure."

  "Do better?" Pandora asked hesitantly, hands suddenly heavy with the weight of Tatsuya's head, ears suddenly full with the sound of his spine snapping in half, of his skin tearing until his skull ripped clean off. For a moment, she could taste Jax's blood on her lips, could feel her teeth sinking easily through his flesh.

  Tristan leaned forward, sensing her distress, and folded his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees, speaking to her in a soothing, reassuring tone. "The reintegration program isn’t just about teaching newly cured vampires about their new modern world. Sure, we give history classes and literature classes. We teach them how to use technology like computers and cars. But for some vampires, that's not enough. Their souls wake up broken. Some are haunted by nightmares, living visions, or flashbacks to the things they did as a vampire, almost like post-traumatic stress disorder. That's one of the reasons we've started this new army-training program, or, um, history of modern warfare class. A lot of the cured have gone on to enlist. The regimented schedule, the brotherhood, the other people who understand living after such trauma, it’s very alluring. But," he said, pausing as he sat up, changing to brighter topics, "I don't think that will be you. So, do you have any questions before we dive into the details about the actual process of the cure?"

  "So there's a chance I won't remember my life as a vamp?" Pandora asked softly, keeping her gaze on Tristan, forcing herself not to look at Jax.

  He nodded. "A chance, but you're so young, there's an equally good chance you'll remember everything."

  Pandora licked her lips, then forced the words through the clog in her throat. "What about before my time as a
vampire? Will I remember the night I turned? Will I remember the days leading up to it?"

  Jax's gaze was a physical force boring into her, a weight against her cheek, but Pandora refused to look at him, worried that adrift in his eyes, she’d lose the will to remember, lose the will to say good-bye.

  Tristan shrugged, oblivious to the secret depth of her question. "Most vampires wake up remembering everything up until their maker enters the scene, up until the point where the idea of vampires creeps in, too much for the human soul to handle. I was wounded during a battle in the Civil War, and I remember being shot, remember falling to the ground, remember dying as other soldiers screamed around me. But I don't remember my maker finding me in that field or anything that happened until I woke up a few years ago, human once more. But at the same time, everyone is different. We have some theories going, but personally, I think it all depends on you and what you want to remember. I know who I am, I know my heart, and I know that becoming a vampire must have destroyed me inside. There was no part of me that wanted to remember. But maybe you're different."

  Pandora heard Kira suck in a sharp breath at his words, heart pounding inside her conduit chest, hot with pent up burning fire. But on the outside, she was calm, as though it were nothing more than a familiar old wound being pricked.

  The conduit glanced at her, smiling softly. "Are you ready?"

  Pandora swallowed, bringing the unfazed façade back. "I'd be more ready if you'd all stop staring at me like I’m a fragile porcelain doll that might shatter at any moment. I'm not going to break."

  The words were full of more bravado than she felt, but they did the trick. Everyone laughed smoothly, easing some of the tension in the air. And then a knock sounded softly against the door.

  "Pavia?" Kira asked.