"I bit someone, I bit someone," Kira said over and over again, a low whisper that was too soft for even her ears to hear.
"Kira!"
She didn't register her name.
"Kira!"
Again, the words were lost to her.
"I've been saying her name for five minutes," a woman's voice called from a few feet away.
"Kira!"
Hands grabbed her shoulders, rolling her over, but Kira's eyes were wide and full of water. The world was a mix of brush strokes that didn't make sense to her overloaded brain.
"Kira, it's Mom, what's wrong?"
She didn't move.
"What happened?"
A deeper voice asked from over Kira's shoulder.
She heard the words around her, but didn't understand them. Her mind had turned red—she was drowning in the blood settling in her stomach.
A fissure broke through, cracking along her brain, forcing foreign thoughts into her frozen senses. They were white and airy, flecked with yellow. Like balloons, they floated higher, forging a path through the crimson droplets raining down on her.
Kira's mind started to settle. The tremble in her body slowed and a sense of peace settled over her—a borrowed sense of peace.
"I think it's working," a low voice said.
"Luke?" Kira whispered, reaching her hand out aimlessly, striking gold as her fingers brushed his warm skin. A hand clutched hers, trapping her small fingers in a worried grip.
"I'm right here, Kira."
Trusting those words, she blinked and his face, silhouetted in a halo of gold, smiled down on her. Kira pulled up, or maybe Luke reached down, but within seconds she was wrapped in his sturdy arms, letting her cries disappear into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His hand ran soothingly through her curls and he rubbed small circles into her back. He whispered soft, secret words into her ear, stilling the chills running down her spine.
"Kira, what happened?" He asked after a few minutes, when he felt her heartbeat return to normal.
Kira shook her head against his chest, "I can't."
"Kir—"
"I can't!" She shouted, jumping out of his arms to pace across the street. She didn't want to think of it ever again. She refused to acknowledge the smell still tantalizing her senses, the new awareness she felt for his warm pulse, the shadows dancing around her frightened heart. She refused to acknowledge that the hunger was still there, even as the UV wall penetrated her skin.
Luke cocked his head, trying to understand what was going on inside of her. Above him, with one hand on his shoulder, her mother stood, looking just as perplexed and concerned.
"Pavia," Kira said, abruptly changing the subject.
"Over here."
Kira turned, "Where were you?"
"Relax, I just took a quick look around. No more vampires, well, except me of course." She grinned and shrugged.
Kira breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the vampire hadn't witnessed the sun scorch her body.
"That guy mentioned Aldrich. He was here, waiting for me, because of Aldrich. What do you know?"
"I told you we needed to talk," Pavia said casually while sweeping her long hair back over to one side of her head, "but it can't be here."
"Fine," Kira spun on her heels, "Luke, we're leaving. Let's get Tristan and go."
"Are you serious?" Her mom squealed.
"Deadly," Kira said. And it might be. She needed to get out—away from the Punishers, away from the conduits—before she went crazy.
"Kira, you can't just leave and run away all the time. What about the Councils?" Her mother stepped forward, ready for the challenge. But Kira knew her real concern; she saw the panic settling in her mom's eyes, the deep-set fear running way back to her father's death.
"Mom, I can handle myself. And the Punisher Council doesn't even want me to speak. I need to end this—I need to find Aldrich and I need to kill him. And," Kira paused, her eyes flicked over at Luke, "and I need to take Tristan home. There's nothing for me to do here."
"Kira, I forbid—"
"Mom, I know you're the parent, but I just saved your life and I think I deserve a little credit."
"She'll be fine," Luke said, putting his hand on her mom's shoulder reassuringly, "I would never let anything happen to her."
"But—"
"I swear," Luke said and squeezed her muscle, forcing her to relax.
Kira took it as her cue to press the advantage.
"Pavia, we'll be back soon," she called over her shoulder without bothering to look back. Her eyes were on the jeep Luke had driven out to the front gate. In a few strides, she was at the door and jumping into the front seat. "So, how'd you know to come out here?"
Kira looked at Luke, who was buckling his seatbelt and putting the key into the ignition.
"Is that a joke? It looked like a bomb went off—your fire lit up the entire sky."
Kira squirmed in her seat, not responding to the question totally apparent in his words. Instead, she pressed the seat back, forcing it as flat as it would go and curled up on her side to stare out the window.
Her mother ran her fingers through Kira's hair, trying to calm her, and Kira stared unblinking at her changing surroundings, trying to still her trembling fingers. Luke sensed the mood and remained quiet, but Kira suspected the silence was more for her mother's benefit. As soon as they were alone he would burst, but what would she tell him?
That she had been pushed to the brink? That she had tasted…that she had almost fallen…had almost turned into a…that her powers had actually burned her? What could she tell him when she didn't even want to admit it to herself?
Kira emptied her mind, focusing on the wash of green flashing by the window. Trees were so much simpler to think about—trees and the bright cloudless sky and the vastness just outside her window, a place where she could disappear.
A chimney poked into her eyesight and Kira sat up, unsure of how much time had passed. They were in town, close to her grandfather's home.
"You guys explain it to the Council," Kira said, her voice scratchy. "I'm going to sneak in to grab my things and then I'll meet you at the hospital."
Luke looked over at her. Kira saw the movement from her peripheral vision, but was afraid she would break if she looked into his warm emerald and golden eyes. They were too familiar, too comforting, too willing to take away her fears.
Instead, Luke reached across the seat and entwined their fingers. He pulled her hand over, touching his soft lips to the topside of her fingers, resting them there for a moment.
His fire swirled into her palm, warming her hands and traveling up to her heart, where it settled like a hot spring flooding into an arctic pool. A good shiver, a loving tremble, shot through Kira's body and she leaned her head against the back of her seat, letting the tips of her lip curl up.
If her mother noticed Luke's more than friendly behavior, she stayed silent, letting the two of them have their moment. But it didn't last long, because Luke pulled the car to a stop and Kira reluctantly slipped free, leaving the car to put her plan into action.
First stop? Getting her locket back.
Kira circled the house until she reached the trellis next to the backdoor. Her grandparent's bedroom was only one short story above her head, and Kira knew her locket was in there. The day before, she had watched her grandmother wrap it in a silk handkerchief and place it lovingly in her jewelry box.
But that's not where it belonged.
It belonged around Kira's neck, with her father's wedding ring and the sun charm Luke had given her as a gift. Her three most valued possessions in life needed to be kept together, safe and close to her heart.
Kira stepped forward, reaching through the vines to grasp the slightly soggy wood that she hoped would remain standing long enough for her to scale the wall and somehow get back down. She couldn't be seen—she couldn't face the Council right now knowing everything she said would be a lie.
Kira lifted her foot, stepping side
ways on the frame, propelling her body weight off the ground. Using it like a ladder, Kira continued creeping up the wall until her fingers brushed against a whitewashed window frame.
Sticking her hand up a little farther, Kira breathed a sigh of relief—it was open. She knew they slept with the window open, that they liked the fresh air and the sound of birds in the morning, but still, Kira was satisfied—something was finally going right.
As she pushed up, throwing the upper half of her body into the house, her senses jumped. A waft of sugar tantalized her nostrils, sending a hunger into the pit of her stomach, an ache that only knew one cure.
Kira pinched her nose, cutting off her sense of smell, and gasped, using her mouth to breath. The house smelled overwhelmingly like conduits, like their blood—a forbidden fruit Kira just wanted to taste. She could almost feel the power of the Council below her feet thrum through her body, a syrupy elixir.
The wooden walls of the suburban home were a Pandora's box in disguise, teasing Kira to just let go, to let herself fall.
She made a gas mask out of her fingers, cupping her lips so as little air as possible seeped into her system.
She needed her locket and then she needed out.
Stumbling to the bedside table, Kira threw the top of the jewelry box open with one hand while she kept the other one pinched around her nose. The locket was easy to spot, and Kira pulled it free of her grandmother's handkerchief, stuffing it in the pocket of her jeans.
With no time wasted, Kira fell back through the door, gulping down fresh air. Her lungs burned in a good way, a human way.
She sucked in a breath, holding it while she retreated back in the bedroom to climb out feet first. She landed on her knees, clutching the mud with her hands while her breath slowed. Sonnyville was not a haven anymore—it was a trap.
Sitting up slowly, Kira unclasped the chain around her neck and slipped the locket back down. It landed with a chink next to her father's ring and Kira looked at the three little charms, resting side by side in the sunlight.
Time to find the missing piece—Tristan. Kira had no charm, no trinket to symbolize their past, but that didn't mean she was about the leave him behind. Instead, she took off at a run down the mostly empty streets, not pausing to say hello to any conduits she passed.
Kira didn't stop until she stumbled to a halt in front of the automatic doors of the hospital. She waited for half a second for the glass to slide open, and then took off at a sprint again, not letting her nose process any smell around her, not giving her brain enough time to register how many conduits were in the building.
Even with her speed, the scent of honey blood drifted into her senses, spurring her on even faster, pushing her toward the only human in the building.
Tristan jumped when she burst into his room.
"Kira!" He said, and then he relaxed with the recognition—something that warmed Kira's heart. A smile spread across his features, lighting up his face and making it glow with excitement.
"Tristan," Kira said breathily, trying to regain her composure after her run. She slammed her hands down in the bed, steadying herself, and a few papers rustled. Leaning closer, Kira noticed a pile of sketches on the bed.
A pile of sketches of her face.
Soft curls danced around her frame, hiding her eyes in shadows as a small smile played on her lips. In another, her eyes lit up, seeming to glow through the page. In another, her palm was raised with a small flame that she seemed to offer to the viewer.
Traveling up the bed, Kira saw graphite shavings lazily resting on the sheets, a pile of peeled pencils on Tristan's thigh, and a half-finished outline of her features below his fingers.
Those fingers.
The tips were blackened, a side-effect of rubbing the pencil into the pages. It was almost too familiar—her breath stopped.
Kira stopped.
Everything except for her eyes, which kept raising higher—higher up his muscular chest to his Adam's apple stopped on a gulp and his lips halfway to a smile. Finally his brown eyes, which she almost expected to be blue again.
"Tristan?"
She leaned forward, hanging on the unspoken words dancing on his lips…
"I didn't mean to be forward," he said, stiff and formal, not her Tristan.
Kira's body deflated. For a moment, she had thought, maybe—but no. Better not to go there, not now. Better to hold onto some dreams, especially while the rest of her beliefs seemed to be crashing down around her.
"I don't mind," she said gently, sitting half on the bed, afraid to lean too close to him.
"I didn't know what to draw and you were so kind this morning. I thought maybe we were friends," he shrugged. A light pink blush gathered on his cheeks, innocent and so new to Kira.
"We are friends," she grabbed one of the sketches just to do something with the hands that felt fat in her lap, "and these are beautiful."
"Once I started, it felt almost natural, as though my fingers had remembered something my brain didn't." He looked down toward the sketches, running his pointer finger along her graphite cheekbone. Kira felt the ghost of a touch on her cheek, a haunting memory. "This is not the first picture of you I've drawn, is it?"
Kira swallowed deeply. "No, it's not."
"I didn't think so…"
He sat up, reaching his hand out, stopping an inch from her face. Kira held her breath. After a minute, his hand fell back down onto the bed—gravity stronger than whatever memory he was grasping for.
"Why is it that I don't remember?"
"I don't know," Kira whispered.
"I think I want to."
Kira sighed, "I know this must be so frustrating. But it will all work out. I promise, you'll get used to this new life."
Tristan nodded. "I believe your words, but something, some instinct I can not shut off wants me to go back, to retrieve what I've lost."
His fingers brushed over her palm and his eyes squinted, looking deep into hers, almost as if he could see her soul. A shiver traveled up her arm.
"Trist—"
"You ready?" Luke's voice called and Kira jumped off the hospital bed, looking for a body to go along with the words. The doorway was empty. Had she imagined it? For some reason, she felt guilty, like she had been doing something wrong. Was Luke the angel on her shoulder… or the devil?
"Over here, genius," he said and Kira spun toward the window. His blond head poked through the open frame.
"I knew that."
"Yeah, right," he grinned and pushed the window open even farther.
"Ready for what?" Tristan asked. He quickly shuffled the papers together, removing them from Luke's eyesight, viewing him with a slightly hostile stare.
Some things never change, Kira thought, feeling almost like herself for a minute.
"We're leaving," Kira said.
"Here." Luke tossed a pair of dark wash jeans and a plain black t-shirt on the bed.
"What are these?" Tristan asked, holding the t-shirt up like it was a rag.
"Clothes," Kira said gently, pointing at Luke's similar ensemble.
"That was pretty much your standard look, man," Luke said, "the ladies dug it."
"Dug?" Tristan asked, confused. Luke's grin widened.
"This is going to be fun," he said, looking slowly at Kira. A mischievous glint sparkled in his eye.
"Luke," she said sternly.
He gave her a little shove toward the window. "Why don't you act as look-out."
"I mean it," Kira warned.
"I'm just going to help the man get dressed," he said in a totally unconvincing voice and nudged her a little more.
"If he comes out with purple hair or something…" Kira trailed off to duck under the window.
"Would I do that?"
"Yes," Kira said under her breath as she jumped the last few feet to the ground.
"Now, Tristan," she heard Luke say, but stopped listening when her eyes caught a red mass in the distance.
The Punisher Council.
All seven of them.
Walking this way.
Walking into the hospital.
"Luke! We have to get out of here now!"
Chapter Five
Kira stilled her entire body, not daring to move even her finger.
Maybe they won't see me, she thought—be the wall, Kira, be the wall. Brick wasn't so far from a strawberry blond head… of course, she was wearing a bright, almost neon green shirt, so that wasn't helping.
The first Punisher ducked into the hospital, and then the second, now the third. The door was only a few yards from the window above Kira's head. How long before one of them noticed her—or reached Tristan's room? Because Kira had no doubt that was their destination, to poke and prod the newly human vampire.
Too bad I got here first, Kira mentally high-fived herself.
The fourth was in.
Kira moved her hand a few inches higher and knocked on the window, trying to urge Luke along without making a scene.
The fifth was in.
She was going to kill him, both of them—how long did it take for a guy to put on a pair of jeans, even if he had never seen them before. A button here, a zipper there…it wasn't that hard!
The sixth moved forward.
Kira eyed the final Punisher. It was the leader, the one with a massive chip on his shoulder, the one who maybe had it out for her…scratch that, definitely had it out for her. He took a step forward, putting his body halfway through the door and Kira held her breath, waiting for the rest of him to disappear.
But Luke chose that moment to stick his head out the window and tell Kira, "We have company."
The Punisher whipped his head around, eyes boring down on Luke and Kira.
"What?" Kira asked, turning around, forgetting her camouflage now that their cover was blown.
"I locked the door," Luke said while jumping down from the window frame, "but it sounds like there are a few angry conduits on the other side of it."
The Punisher yelled over toward them, closing in on them while numbers five and six walked back out of the hospital to see what the commotion was.
"There are a few angry conduits out here, too" Kira muttered and tugged on his arm. "Where's Tristan? We need to get out of here."
Scorch (Midnight Fire Series) Page 5
