Scorch (Midnight Fire Series)

by Davis, Kaitlyn

  Scorch

  Midnight Fire Series Book Four

  By

  Kaitlyn Davis

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2012 Kaitlyn Davis

  Cover Art: Manipulated by Kaitlyn Davis from attribution licensed flickr creative commons photos by: Jason Hargrove and Swami Stream.

  The right of Kaitlyn Davis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be direct infringement of the author's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblances between the characters and persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Other Titles by Kaitlyn Davis

  Ignite (Midnight Fire Series Book One)

  Simmer (Midnight Fire Series Book Two)

  Blaze (Midnight Fire Series Book Three)

  To my family for their unconditional love,

  my friends for their overwhelming support,

  and my fans for their incredible enthusiasm.

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  From a chair in the corner of his hospital room, Kira looked at the steady rise and fall of Tristan's chest. His movements were in tune to the constant beep of the machines wired to his body. They were the only things telling her that he was alive, because every other part of him was still. His mouth was relaxed, slightly open to let each exhale escape. His eyelids were closed, his brows were flat and the stress-induced wrinkles normally bunching his forehead were gone. He looked oddly at peace, floating between the realm of the living and the dead.

  But it was time for him to wake up.

  Two days had passed since the fight in Aldrich's castle: one long day of travel from England to Sonnyville and one long day explaining everything to the Protector Council.

  Kira couldn't erase the pain in her grandfather's eyes as she told him that his only daughter, her mother, was truly gone—that a vampire had stolen her memories, replicated her face, and pretended to be her just to fool Kira.

  She couldn't forget the wounded look on Luke's face as she explained Tristan's miraculous transformation to the other conduits. His kiss still burned in her mind, playing on repeat, making her feel alive. Her love for Luke had been simmering in the back of her thoughts all this time, and it had finally broken to the surface, blossoming to a strong flame before she really even realized it was there. But looking at a human Tristan, now so fragile and new to the world, Kira wasn't sure she could let him go and make him face it alone.

  But most of all, Kira couldn't loosen the knot in her chest, knowing she let Aldrich free—knowing that somewhere out there he was alive and knew her secret. That was the worst part of it all, the darkness hiding inside of her that she couldn't share with anyone, not even Luke. A wedge of evil had lodged itself in her heart, a little black hole had nestled within her flames, and it wasn't going away.

  She knew it.

  Aldrich knew it.

  And Kira didn't see Aldrich forgetting about that any time soon.

  Which was why she had holed up in Tristan's hospital room, waiting with only her thoughts for company. After learning that she had been dating a vampire, the other conduits in Sonnyville started avoiding her. Her grandparents wanted to reconnect with her, but Kira couldn't stand the waves of disappointment churning in their eyes—after giving them new hope, she had failed to bring her birth mother home. Her adoptive parents had been furious when they heard about her trip to England and Kira had hung up the phone to escape a lecture. And Luke, Kira's best friend in the entire world, was getting impatient. He wanted her decision and she wasn't ready to give it.

  So, take away all of those people and who was left? Her comatose, once vampire now human, ex-boyfriend who thought he was living in the 1800s. Oh, and who almost choked her to death when he woke up because he thought she was a demon witch.

  Perfect.

  Kira sighed, rolled her eyes and knocked her head back against the wall. She really was in a corner—physically and mentally stuck. And she needed Tristan to wake up right now, before she actually went insane. She needed a distraction, and telling someone about the one hundred and fifty years of human life they had missed, well, that ought to take some time.

  Antsy, Kira stood and walked to the foot of Tristan's bed just in time to catch his foot twitch. The conduit doctors had been keeping him heavily medicated for the past day in order to study his cell composition, but the twenty-four hours Kira had granted them was over and Tristan wasn't going to be a lab rat any longer.

  Farther up in the bed, his fingers bent into a fist and then flexed straight in a stretch.

  Kira moved closer, stepping next to his face so she could put a hand to his warm cheek. His skin had a healthy flush and a slight tan, which, though natural for a human, seemed unnatural on him. The tips of her fingers brushed his silky black hair and Kira studied the slightly curled strands for a moment before focusing on his eyes.

  They blinked once and closed again, but Kira's heart stopped.

  Brown.

  She wasn't used to those chocolaty irises yet. And when he blinked again, Kira forced her breath to steady.

  "Shh," she cooed while stroking his cheek. The glaze over his eyes began to recede, replaced by confusion and fear, both somewhat muted from his medication.

  "Where…?" He began in a scratchy voice, but stopped mid-sentence when his gaze caught the fluorescent light blinking overhead. "What…?" His head tilted and an odd expression gathered on his face as he surveyed the room.

  Oh right, Kira thought, electricity. It was easy to forget how long ago 1864 really was.

  "Please try not to panic," Kira said. After thinking about this moment for the entire plane ride home from England, she had decided to leave their relationship out—to pretend they were never more than friends. It would be easier that way… for her at least. "I'm Kira," she said, "do you remember your name?"

  "Tristan, Tristan Kent," he said with a deep swallow and locked his gaze on her, sending a little swarm of butterflies into her stomach.

  "Nice to meet you, Tristan." Kira leaned back, letting go of his cheek to shake his hand.

  "And you, miss…" He trailed off, waiting for her last name.

  "You can just call me Kira," she said. He had to be introduced to the twenty-first century at some point—might as well start now.

  "Miss Kira," he breathed, letting the words roll off of his tongue while he reached for her outstretched hand. Unexpectedly, he brought her fingers to his mouth for a quick kiss.

  Kira untangled their fingers, forcing more intimate memories out of her head. "What's the last thing you remember?"

  "I was in a forest. Men
were screaming all around me. I was wounded, the pain in my leg was worse than any other I've felt. I was a foot soldier in the Confederate Army and the Union had just delivered us a harsh blow."

  "Good," Kira said and patted his hand. He didn't remember England at all—Kira silently thanked her good luck for that. "The thing is, Tristan, I have a sort of crazy story to tell you and I need you to just sit there, listen and try to take it all in. Can you do that?"

  "Of course, Miss," he responded before lifting his hand closer to his face. He tugged at the wire stuck to his wrist, the one monitoring his pulse.

  "Leave that there," Kira said, covering the spot with her hand.

  "But, if I may ask, what—"

  "Just listen, I promise I'll try to explain."

  Tristan nodded and set his hand back down on the bed. His movements were slow and seemed slightly disconnected from his brain, letting Kira know this calm mood would probably only last until his meds wore off.

  "You don't remember, but we've been friends for a little while—good friends. I know a lot about you and I know how you came to be here, in the hospital. But Tristan, I have to tell you something that will seem a little scary." Kira squeezed his hand, trying to provide an ounce of comfort. "We're in the future. The Civil War happened one hundred and fifty years ago, and—"

  Tristan jerked into a seated position and the beeping of the machines grew to a frantic pace. He squeezed her shoulders, digging his fingers deep into her skin.

  "What do you mean?" He said in a harsh whisper.

  "Tristan, please calm down."

  "What year is it?" He said a little louder.

  "Tristan," Kira said, trying to escape his hold.

  "How is this possible?" He shook her, hard enough to hurt, and an animalistic fear seeped into his stare. "Where are my men? What did you do?"

  Kira slapped him across the face. The sound echoed against the sterile hospital walls and she stared at her red palm in shock. She looked up at Tristan, who looked back at her with an equal expression of surprise.

  "I'm sorry," she said slowly.

  "No, it is I who must be forgiven. Please excuse my abhorrent behavior, I am just… well, I can't quite explain it…confused, scared, lost…to treat a woman so—"

  "It's alright," she soothed while taking his hand, "I understand."

  "I do not. How did I come to be here?"

  "Let me show you something first."

  Kira stood and pushed the chair aside. Lifting her palm before Tristan's eyes, Kira lit a small and controlled flame above her fingers, suspending it for a moment. Tristan inhaled sharply, cutting the air. Kira sucked the fire back in and dropped her hand.

  "There are a lot of impossible things in this world," she said before Tristan had time to regain his composure. "And I'm one of them, but so are you."

  "Are you a witch?" he asked, unable to hide the current of fear and hatred traveling with that word.

  Kira shook her head. "I'm a conduit, a vampire hunter, and you were my friend—a good person trapped in a life he never wanted."

  "And what life was that?"

  "You don't remember because I just cured you, returned your humanity, but for decades you lived as a," Kira hesitated, hating how crushing this word would be to hear, "as a vampire."

  Tristan flat-lined.

  His human heart had had too much and it stopped as soon as she uttered the word. His chest fell back against the hospital bed, while his head banged painfully against the wall.

  "Tristan!" Kira jumped and shook his shoulders, trying to wake him up. An alarm sounded from the side of the room and the intercom system started flashing.

  "Help!" Kira yelled, hoping the lightly staffed conduit hospital still had some nurses available somewhere.

  Leaning over his chest, Kira listened for a heartbeat but there was none. Forming a fist with one palm over the other, Kira pumped on his chest to the count of three. She widened his lips and forced her own breath down the opening, praying he would wake up.

  She pumped again.

  His lashes slipped open to reveal nothing but the whites of his eyes and Kira screamed.

  "Move, please," a doctor charged through the door, pushing Kira gently to the side. He put his fists on Tristan's chest, pumping, while a nurse jammed oxygen into his lungs.

  "What happened?" The doctor asked.

  "We were just talking, I was just trying to explain…" Kira trailed off as the doctor continued to work. After another round of CPR, the machine picked up a heartbeat again and Kira instantly relaxed, trying to slow her heart to the same beep beep beep of Tristan's restored pulse.

  "Give him another round of relaxants," the doctor told the nurse, who jotted a few scribbles on Tristan's chart and reached for a shot of fluids. "Now," he turned to Kira, "what did you say exactly?"

  "I just," Kira walked closer to the bed, lightly running her fingers over Tristan's still forearm, "I was just trying to explain how he got here, in this time period. He's so confused." She winced as the nurse sunk a needle deep into his skin. "He doesn't understand any of this."

  "It's alright." The doctor, blond and so obviously a Protector, placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's not going to be easy for him to adjust, but these things take time."

  Kira let out a loud exhale, "Have you ever dealt with something like this before?"

  "Vampires returning from the dead?" He chuckled softly under his breath. "No, not in this lifetime. But I have seen people with amnesia and memory loss, and they recover eventually—forever changed maybe, but people have a way of adjusting to situations that may seem insurmountable at first." He squeezed her arm reassuringly.

  "Yeah, I know about that—believe me," Kira said. If she could overcome the changes in her life—the truth about her parents, her heritage as a conduit, and her role as a half-breed or potentially some angel meant to fall into darkness—Tristan would figure it out eventually. "Thanks," Kira told the doctor as he walked out the door.

  "He shouldn't wake up again for a few hours," the nurse informed her before following the doctor to the exit.

  Kira eased onto the side of Tristan's hospital bed. Even though his skin had darkened and his eyes had lost their striking blue hue, her Tristan had to be in there somewhere. He would look at her with warmth and love again, and not as a stranger or a threat.

  "He looks pretty good, you know, for someone who was dead three days ago."

  Kira recognized that voice instantly and turned to welcome Luke with a grin. He stood in the doorway with his hands lazily resting in his pockets and his shoulders slightly shrugged as though he were mildly uncomfortable. When he stepped into the room, he looked down toward the floor, avoiding the bed.

  Kira thought the green in his t-shirt made his eyes shimmer like dark emeralds, and she resisted the urge to run a hand over the soft cotton. "Does he still think you’re a demon witch? I myself thought the description was uncannily accurate."

  Kira rolled her eyes at the playful jab. "You don't want to know what nicknames I have for you."

  "Prince charming? Knight in shining armor? Love of my life? You're not that original, Kira." He smirked, looking at her piercingly under his hooded eyebrows.

  Kira breathed deeply, releasing a shaky breath, and subconsciously slipped her hand off of Tristan's. "And you're no Disney prince."

  "I know," he said and slipped closer to her, gaining confidence with their easy banter. "Being two-dimensional would totally cramp my style."

  "Yeah," Kira started but her breath caught when he reached his hand out to run his thumb along her lower lip. Kira swallowed. "You don't want a perfectly packaged princess to run off with?"

  Luke moved his hand along her cheek, stroking her skin until his fingers rested at the base of her neck. He tilted her head slightly upward and forced her to meet his stare. "I prefer my pain in the butt demon witch." He leaned down, arching her head up farther.

  "Luke," Kira murmured, shifted her head to the side so his lips landed on her che
ek. Even if she wanted to kiss Luke, which she did, and even if Tristan didn't remember who she was, which he didn't, Kira was too conscious of his body lying still right beside her.

  Luke sighed and pressed their foreheads together, taking a deep breath before retreating a few feet away to the empty chair next to the bed.

  "So how is he actually?"

  Kira appreciated the genuine concern in Luke's tone, even if it were more for her sake than for Tristan's. "Well, I told him he's been a vampire for the past hundred or so years, and his heart stopped beating and he passed out… so, yeah, not great."

  "He still doesn't remember anything?" Or who you are? Kira finished Luke's question in her own mind.

  "No, nothing. But he seemed a little more in control, at first at least. The nurse gave him a few more meds…" Kira trailed off as she traced Tristan's body with her gaze.

  He was fast asleep and not waking up anytime soon, but what she couldn’t help noticing was how serene he looked, even with all the confusion. His features had never appeared so relaxed to her, not in all the times she had seen him sleep. It was as though some invisible weight had been lifted, as though he had been freed.

  "So what did you really come here to talk about?" Kira looked over at Luke, catching him mid-stare.

  He opened his mouth, ready with a witty reply, but closed it again. "The Council," he said and let his eyes slip away to the window.

  "Which one?" Kira sighed.

  "Both." Luke leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, clearly stressed out.

  They both were. The past two days had been taxing on everyone, but Kira thought she and Luke had taken the brunt of the heat over the failed mission in England. Everyone forgot that Luke had managed to save all of the locked up conduits in the dungeon just because he had let a single vampire go free—Pavia. He refused to put more blame on Kira by telling the Council that it was her demand to let Pavia escape and instead let everyone believe she had slipped away.

  But the real stressor, for both of them, was the Punisher Council. Never in Luke's lifetime or in his parent's lifetime had the two Councils met in full. Whenever cross-conduit business needed to occur, one member from each Council would travel and make the necessary decisions. But a full meeting of all seven members of each Council was almost unheard of—and they were meeting today to discuss Kira's fate now that she had completely changed the game by bringing Tristan back to life.