"Kira…I’m your guardian. I’m twenty, and I live alone. I’m only pretending to be in high school."
"Oh." She shut up. One more surprise might send her over the edge. There was only so much a girl could endure before the fake calmness wore off and all the feelings she had pushed down bubbled back up to the surface.
They walked down the boardwalk holding hands, and Kira relished the contact. She thought it darkly humorous that passersby might think they were sweethearts. How many people had she walked past who were secretly watching her and guarding her? She bet she had passed vampires before and had never looked twice, never even dreamed something like this could be true.
Luke bought them two ice cream cones, and Kira listened as he spoke of trivial things like Miles’ school craze and class assignments. She knew he was just providing background noise, that he knew she was lost in her own thoughts. He didn’t try to intrude. He just tried to give her some semblance of normal, to maybe make her laugh. Kira wondered when she would laugh again as she remained stone faced at Luke’s attempts.
When they finished, Luke steered Kira around to his car and drove her to his house. It was small, and he explained that it had been given to him when he moved here to start watching over her. She wondered if he was getting paid and how much of a job this was for him. Was it a normal thing for a conduit to have to do? To act like a babysitter? Or did they all stay in their safe havens, not even trying to go out and search for people to help?
She knew nothing about her culture or her own people. It was an odd feeling to have barely any idea where she came from. Her mother had always told her she had an Irish heritage, and when she was little, Kira used to spend hours reading about the druids and old Irish folklore. She liked having a sense of history, and it was important to her to be able to connect to the past. But now, she was part of this ancient secret society she knew almost nothing about.
Most of all, Kira wondered about her parents, her real parents. She wondered who they were and why her aunt had to raise her. The mystery of her sister was easy to explain now. Kira almost laughed to herself. Ever since her sister had been born, she had asked whom the mistake had been. Clearly, Kira was the misfit. It was almost comforting to have one question answered, but the answer left her feeling empty. A mistake? The word rolled around in her head, knocking everything out of place. Not only her parents' mistake, her life itself was also a mistake, one that could end the world as she knew it if more vampires found out.
Luke left her in the living room to go find some blankets for the pull-out she would be sleeping on. When he came back, he unfolded the couch and made it into a bed for her. He fluffed the pillow and pretended to be a bellhop showing her around a hotel suite, but went to get her water when she never cracked a smile.
Kira’s cell phone rang while Luke was in the kitchen. The caller ID said it was home, her mother she assumed, but she let it go to voicemail. When she closed her phone, she saw the edge of the burn mark on her hand. She let her cell fall onto the couch so she could peer at the spot more closely. Her hands looked like they had little starbursts on them, like she had put a red paintball between her palms and pressed together to make it explode. She ran her finger along the edge and felt the raised line of the burn. It didn’t sting at all. She hadn’t even noticed her hands until Luke had mentioned the marks to her on the pier.
"It’ll go away," Luke said when he walked back inside and saw her staring. He gave Kira the glass of water. "The burns I mean. After a while they’ll go away and each time you use your power, they’ll show up less and less."
Kira clenched her fists and looked away. She didn’t want to think about using her power again.
"Kira, we’re not evil. It’s a gift not a curse." She rolled her eyes and grabbed for the water, taking it from Luke’s hand. "I’m going to show you something, something I used to do as a kid when I couldn’t fall asleep." He left the room and returned after a few minutes with a six-inch disco ball in his hand.
Kira finally laughed. "You danced disco when you couldn’t sleep?"
"Hey, I’ll have you know I do a mean rendition of the Saturday Night Fever dance, thank you very much." He laughed with her and she felt almost happy again. But the moment passed.
"Okay, Kira, I know you. I know you’re afraid of yourself right now, of what I’ve told you, but it can be a beautiful thing. When I was little, my mom always told me how I would grow up to help save people’s lives. And I’d sit in my bed at night, so angry that I was just a kid and couldn't go out on adventures yet. So when I couldn't sleep, I would practice my skills, just hoping and waiting for the day when I would be good enough to leave Sonnyville for the real world. But right before I went to bed, I would take out my disco ball—stop laughing—I would take out this totally awesome and not at all embarrassing or funny disco ball I stole from my older sister and do this."
Kira smothered her giggle as Luke lifted the string attached to the disco ball and held it in front of them. With his other hand he spun the ball then shot a small, completely controlled sliver of light from his hand. As soon as the beam struck the disco ball, circles like moving diamonds twinkled and spun around the dark room. She looked around, feeling more like she was in a planetarium than a living room, and was awed by the scene. He let the light die out and gave her the disco ball.
"When you’re ready, we’ll start practicing your gift. And when you feel comfortable, pull this from your drawer and give it a try." He stood from the couch and looked back at her before he walked to his room. "Goodnight, Kira."
"Night, Luke," she said as he disappeared around the corner. She let the silver globe fall into her lap and kept an eye on the spot Luke had just vacated. Why, she asked herself, couldn’t she have fallen for him instead? Luke was perfect. He was funny and charming, and someone she could tell everything to, but still she thought of him as a brother. He could spill light from his own hand but still couldn’t spark anything within her.
Something was wrong with her, Kira decided, since she was some sort of mixed breed freak. Her heart just didn't work the right way. Maybe she was only attracted to other misfits, which was exactly what Tristan was after all. He was a vampire who seemed to want to be human. You can’t get more out of place than that, she thought.
Kira sighed and lay down on the sofa, curling under the blankets Luke had set out for her. As she rolled up into a fetal position, Kira wished that when she woke up tomorrow it would all be a dream.
But maybe that, she realized, was just too impossible to ask for.
Chapter Eight
The next morning when Kira woke up on Luke’s couch, drool dribbled down her cheek and her head pounded from a headache.
Yeah, she thought, yesterday really happened.
The scent of coffee drifted in from the kitchen and she dragged herself from the warmth of the covers to face her new life. Today, she had to talk to her mother. Kira had to learn about her real parents and about her history. There was no turning back and there never would be. All she could do was rise to the challenge.
"I guess we can add skipping school to the list of badass things you’ve done," Luke said, as he entered the living room. "It’s right up there with taking on four vamps all by yourself." She tried to smile and took the cup he handed to her.
"Advil?" she asked. He nodded and returned a few minutes later with two maroon pills in his hand.
"Headache?" She nodded. "How are you feeling otherwise?"
"A little shocked and awed, a little scared out of my mind, and just a little like myself." Kira took another sip and felt a rush of warmth spread through her body in a completely natural sort of way. It was refreshing. "So what happens now, Luke?"
"I take you home and you talk with your mom."
"You mean my aunt."
"No, I mean your mom. Whether she gave birth to you or not is irrelevant. She still raised you, and she’s still your mom." Kira nodded slightly at his words, hoping she would eventually feel the same way and no
t just betrayed.
"I meant more along the lines of, I’ve accepted this whole supernatural world business and I’ve accepted whatever birthright I have, so what happens now?"
"I’m supposed to train you and teach you, but we can worry about that later. Now, let’s watch the new episode of Top Chef I have saved on my DVR. You observe the food, and I’ll observe Padma Lakshmi."
"Sometimes I worry about you," Kira said as she rolled over to lean her head on his shoulder. It was her favorite show and she relished in the normalness of it.
For the next hour, Luke made inappropriate comments about the host and Kira unsuccessfully tried to turn his attention to the food and the art of being a chef. They sipped coffee and attempted to enjoy the peace. But Kira heart constricted when Padma resolutely said, "Please pack your knives and go." The words sounded more like a death sentence to Kira, who knew she needed to pack up and go as well. Her parents would be furious with her and had probably been calling her nonstop. Thank god for the ability to turn a cell on silent, Kira thought.
She helped Luke put the pull-out couch away and folded the sheets she had used. Then Kira helped drop the dusty brown cushions back in their place, carried the dirty dishes into his tiny old-fashioned kitchen with hideous blue cabinetry, and finally grabbed her handbag to follow him out the door.
"Luke?" she asked after a while of driving in silence. He looked over in her direction to show she had gained his attention. "Thanks for everything. For letting me spend the night, for coming to stop me when I couldn’t stop myself, and for doing the hard thing by telling me the truth." He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Do you think we could do something fun and normal tomorrow? It will be Saturday," she asked when they pulled up in front of her house.
"I’ll rally the troops and surprise you. Now, good luck. Call me if you need me later."
"Thanks," she said as she pushed the car door open and slid out.
Luke drove away, leaving her alone in front of her home. It had never seemed as daunting as it did then. The car was in the driveway, meaning her mother had skipped out on work. The real question in Kira’s mind was, is she angry or worried? Will I open the door to screaming and yelling, or hugs and kisses? If Kira knew her mother, the wrath of God was about to fall upon her.
Hesitantly, Kira lifted her foot, let it hover above the ground for a moment, and then placed it in front of her to begin the long walk to her front door. She had decided this morning to rise to the occasion, and Kira had a feeling this conversation would be the toughest part.
The front door opened before she even had time to take her key out of her handbag.
"Where have you been?" her mother shouted and pulled her inside by the arm. "Your father and I have been worried sick. We were up all night. I must have called you a hundred times, but did you call us back? No! Of course not. Why bother to calm the woman who has raised you since birth and thought you dead in a ditch by the side of the road?"
Kira fought the urge to scream back and allowed her mother to vent her frustration. It almost felt normal, and in some weird way, the fight comforted rather than hurt Kira. But all she kept thinking was, how dare you yell at me—you lied to me, for my whole life you lied to me. Who are you? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you protect me?
Kira let out a slow breath and tried to rein in her anger. She needed answers, and she had a feeling that she would need family. Eventually, they could be her true family again.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Her mother panted when she had finished ranting.
"I almost died," Kira said softly. She wasn’t sure how to talk to her mother about this without sounding accusatory, and she figured remaining calm would be the best decision. "Vampires almost killed me." The words came out with a trace of bitterness that Kira couldn't fight, but she couldn't hide all her feelings.
She almost wanted to cry and fall into her mother’s arms, but she held back and watched as her mother’s hand rose to catch the gasp leaving her mouth. Kira observed as her mom backed up into the couch and, like an afterthought, fell into a seated position.
"Oh god, oh god," her mother repeated until Kira came to sit down next to her. "Where was Luke? I never imagined you’d been in real danger." Kira grabbed her mother’s shaking hand.
"It’s okay, I saved myself…" Kira let her words linger. Her mother stiffened and looked at Kira with eyes full of horror.
"How much do you know?"
"Not everything, but enough. I stayed with Luke overnight because I needed some time to adjust before I came home. I wasn’t sure how it would feel to look at you knowing I was just a mistake, that I’m your charge and not your daughter. Oddly enough, it feels half-normal and only half-painful." Kira let her fingers slip from her mother’s and moved to the other end of the couch, rolling her knees into her chest.
Her mother sat very still, looking straight ahead with wide eyes. "Will you ever forgive me?" she whispered while bowing her head into her hands.
"I hope so," Kira answered truthfully. She didn't know if she could ever let the pain of not knowing who she was fall away. She loved her mother, but right now, she felt as though she didn't know who her mother really was. "Were you ever going to tell me I was adopted? That my whole life has been a lie?"
"Oh, Kira." Her mother reached for her hand, but Kira moved it away, not ready to forgive her yet. "It hasn't all been a lie. I am your mother, in every way but genetically. Your father and I love you. Your sister loves you. We’ve always been a family." A tear escaped Kira’s eye then. "If you won't forgive me right now, will you at least let me explain?"
"Yes." Kira let the word slip from her mouth before she could stop it. This was the point of no return. Once the story was told, everything about her heritage would be true, but in some ways she thirsted for it. She needed a history—a past to hold on to. "You need to start with my real parents."
"Can we talk outside?" her mother asked while rising from the couch. "These are stories even your father cannot hear."
Kira nodded.
She and her mother always had important conversations outdoors. When she had wanted to go to boarding school, they had walked in a park for an hour. When she got her ears pierced, they had gone to the swing set in her old backyard. Something about the wind and the trees seemed calming—they made even the biggest arguments seem small. For the first time, Kira wondered if it was a conduit trait, that maybe something about being in the sun calmed her people. But she pushed the thought aside, not wanting to linger on any musings that made her feel at all subhuman.
Kira grabbed a blanket to wrap around her shoulders and quickly made instant hot chocolate to bring outside while her mother ran up the steps. She set her mother’s cup on the table and nestled into the chair to wait. The air was cool on her cheek—a typical Carolina fall. The leaves of the dense forest behind her house rustled with each churning breeze, almost like waves with their cyclical splash. But here, only the scent of salt in the air reminded her that she lived on the coast.
Kira’s mother walked outside in a sweatshirt with a box of tissues in hand. "Kira, I don’t even know where to begin. I haven’t spoken of the conduits in years. Your father doesn’t even know about my past. I never wanted any of us to be a part of that world."
"Start with my father, your brother. What was he like? You are Punishers, right?" Kira tried to keep the crack from her voice. She thought it the logical place to start, the beginning of her father’s tale before he even met her real mother. She wished she had a picture, some sort of token to remember them both by.
"Your father was amazing. He was the protective older brother, the ideal fighter, the perfect son, the dream boy, but most of all he was someone you knew without a doubt you could count on for anything in your life. He wanted to protect the entire world, to fight epic battles, and he started by helping me." Kira noticed that her mother’s gaze had glazed over. She was staring somewhere beyond their backyard, back into her memories. "When we were you
nger, he made sure none of the kids bullied me for being small and weak with my power. You see, Kira, I ran away from that world because I had no place in it. As a child, I could never truly channel the sun properly, and when my power matured at the age of sixteen, I still couldn't hurt a fly. To a Punisher that is the ultimate insult, and many of our people turned against me, but never your father. I lived at home, just waiting until I could leave and go to college and be normal. And, he accepted me."
Kira grabbed a tissue then. It seemed her mother and she had both been misfits in unfamiliar worlds, and she painted the most beautiful picture of her true father as someone fearless. Something Kira wished she had inherited some of.
"When he was eighteen, he went on his first hunt and made his first kill. He returned, boasting of how much fun he’d had and how exhilarating the fight was. He said he was the only newbie who hadn’t needed help from the elders to stop his vampire. I could tell, just by looking at him, that he had found his place and that he would grow to be one of our best fighters. Conduit societies are stuck in the past in many ways. The men went out to hunt for vampires to help protect humanity, and the women remained at home protecting the children in case our location was ever found out. And the entire town knew your father would be the best of us. Every time he came back from a trip, he shined with pride, and others told the tales of his heroics. Because for us, the stronger the fighter, the more divine, and your father was seen as a heavenly angel to many of our people."
"But that all changed?" Kira guessed, knowing this story had everything but a happy ending.
"Yes, that all changed. Most youths mature at sixteen and start going on guided missions, but at age twenty we are allowed to hunt alone. At first, your father acted much the same and came back with joy in his eyes. However, one day, a few weeks before he turned twenty-one, he returned solemnly. Everyone thought he had failed to catch his target for the first time. Nothing unusual for a young hunter. They all let him be. But I knew your father, and I knew something else was wrong."
The Complete Midnight Fire Series Page 10
