"Enough." The deep rumble of her grandfather's voice silenced Kira and she turned quietly back toward the Punishers, now a wave of flaming red hair making its way through a golden sea.
Stay cool, Kira chided as nerves shivered down her limbs. More than anything, Kira was anxious about her own response. When she felt cornered, she had the tendency to act out and that was the last thing she needed—to give them another reason to think she was out of control.
So as the Punisher Council walked slowly up the steps, making their way to the seven extra chairs set up opposite from the Protectors, Kira took a deep breath and forced herself to relax.
Of course, her semblance of calm went pretty much out the window when her mother broached the top of the platform. They finally made eye contact and Kira knew the meaning of that singular raised eyebrow and tilted head—it meant lecture time was near. No, it meant, "I am so happy you are safe, but now I am going to make you wish you had died doing whatever stupid thing you were doing".
Kira attempted a weak smile in her mom's direction.
The glare only deepened.
Fantastic, she thought and gripped Luke's hand hard enough to make him wince. I'm a dead girl.
"Welcome," her grandfather spoke, directing the greeting to the Punishers but projecting his voice enough to include the entire crowd below. "Today marks a momentous occasion in our two histories. Not only have the councils come together in full to discuss the future of our great species, but we have in our midst a girl who has forever changed what it means to be a conduit. My granddaughter, Kira, signifies the best of what we all do. She has punished a great many evils, but protected the thing we all wish to save—humanity. And that is what we are here to discuss—a newly resurrected human life, a vampire who was good enough to be saved—a Mr. Tristan Kent."
Kira breathed a sigh of relief at her grandfather's introduction, noticing a few heads in the crowd nod in agreement. But not everyone was satisfied with his words Kira thought, as she looked around at frowning Punishers and Protectors alike.
"That is all well and good, Councilman Peters, but we have other things to discuss," the Punisher opposite her grandfather spoke. He too sat in the middle of the row and Kira could tell he was the leader. His red hair was untainted by white or gray strands, but the wrinkles around the corner of his eyes and the slight droop to his skin gave away his age. His features were hard—sharp cheekbones, an angled nose, a sliver of pink lips—and he moved his razor-like eyes in Kira's direction. Already, she could see the difference in the two cultures.
Protectors were strong, but there was room for lightness and love. Punishers were just tough. Like her mother had said months before when Kira had first learned of her powers, they honored mercilessness with vampires and weeded out the weak—a major reason her mother had left the culture so long before.
"Whether this vampire lives or dies is of little consequence to us. What we came here to discuss is the fate of this mixed breed—her life is a danger you have never truly come to understand. When we found her as a child, the deal was struck to let her live so long as her powers never came to fruition. But when they manifested only a few short months ago, we were never informed, and already her soul has twisted just as we had feared."
"Whoa," Kira interjected, shirking Luke's hold and stepping into the middle of the circle. So much for poised aloofness. "I may be a mixed breed conduit, but that doesn't mean I'm deaf and can't hear exactly what you're saying about me. My soul isn't 'twisted,'" Kira said, unable to resist the urge to use air quotes around the word. "It's perfectly straight, like yardstick straight. You could measure other souls against it."
Even though she couldn't see it, Kira felt Luke roll his eyes behind her and a sense of amusement funneled into her mind through their connection.
"Miss Dawson, with all due respect, you are the least qualified person to make that assessment. Which is why, according to tradition, we brought your only living Punisher relative here to speak on your behalf. I present Ellen Dawson, sister to your father, Andrew Dawson." He signaled her mother, who stepped forward with a curtsy to show her respect.
"We have also brought one more with us as you have all noticed. May I present Mr. Noah Thomas, the Punisher who witnessed this half-breed's questionable behavior and first alerted us of her possible threat."
The man, who Kira noticed already looked well recovered from his ordeal in Aldrich's castle, stepped forward and nodded to the crowd. For a moment, he caught Kira's stare and his eyes trembled, almost as if it pained him to be there. But his gaze shifted away, downcast at the wooden planks below their feet.
Her grandfather leaned forward in his seat, looking strong despite the frailty of his age. "And what exactly are you accusing her of? Other than saving Sonnyville from a crippling attack only a few weeks ago." He looked at the crowd, forcing them all to remember how Kira had destroyed the vampires who had swarmed this town and broken through their defenses. "Other than freeing conduits from the imprisonment of a deranged vampire." He looked pointedly at the redheaded man who was still looking at the floor, unable to meet her grandfather's steely gaze. "Other than bringing a human soul back to life?"
Kira planted her feet on the ground, resisting the urge to run up and land a kiss on his cheek. Protectors one, she thought, Punishers zero.
"All the proof we need is written in her eyes," the Punisher said, pointing at Kira as though she were some monster. A thousand gazes landed on her and, hard as it was, Kira refused to back down. She looked around the crowd and met the stare of every single person on that platform. There was one thing she could promise them—she would never stop fighting.
"And before you interject, let's discuss her other actions as well," the Punisher continued, cutting off her grandfather. "Did she not partake in a willing relationship with a vampire? Did she not stay as a guest at a vampire's estate? Did she not freely offer her blood to these creatures?"
The entire crowd gasped at the same time.
She might have failed to mention that little blood sharing part before. But it wasn't like he made it sound. Tristan had needed entry into the Red Rose Ball. Kira had traded blood for information from Pavia. And, she had basically been undercover at Aldrich's castle.
Turning toward Luke, Kira searched for some words to defend herself without sounding guilty. But as soon as she looked into his face, Kira closed her mouth. Through the bond, she felt his fear—a deep burn singeing his heart. The tide was turning against her, and she could feel the shift as golden heads bobbed in agreement with the Punisher's words.
"Did she not bring a human back to life?" Her grandfather stood, purposely leaving his cane on the ground—only the strength in his conviction kept him standing. "What sort of vampire supporter would risk her own life to do that?"
"And I will speak to Tristan since my daughter cannot," her mother stepped forward, looking beyond the Punishers to the demanding crowd below. "He is a kindhearted and gentle soul—I allowed him to date my daughter and to play with her younger sister. I allowed him into my home and into our lives. His humanity was so intact that I at first didn't even recognize that he was a vampire."
She turned a slightly softer gaze toward Kira, who guessed that her mother had never suspected Tristan was a vampire until the Punishers came knocking on the door demanding an explanation.
"My daughter," she continued, the pause unnoticed by anyone except Kira, "fell in love with the human trapped inside of a vampire's body, and all she did was what we have all wanted to do—she killed the vampire and brought the human back to life."
When her mother stepped to the side, out of the center of the wooden platform, a stalemate began. The Protectors on one side, the Punishers on the other—both strong in their beliefs, but unsure of where to take the argument next.
Everywhere Kira looked, blond heads were turning to the side, leaning toward one another. A buzz grew louder as the whispers spread around the circle—a cacophony of opinions. But Kira couldn't tell if th
e rising murmurs were for or against her.
Luke squeezed her hand, sending warm thoughts into her head, trying to drown out the worry. Kira held on, opening the wall she normally kept sealed tight. Like water through a crack, his optimism pushed through, shooting down her veins, lifting her spirits like hot chocolate on a wintry day.
Kira leaned into his body, and Luke brought his arm around her shoulder, welcoming her head on his chest. Without misstep, their heartbeats molded into one. Their inhales and exhales rolled together like a quickly churning tide while they anxiously waited for someone to speak.
"If I may." The Punisher from Aldrich's dungeon stepped forward. Noah, Kira thought, remembering his name. She tensed, uneasy about what would come next, and Luke's grip on her arm tightened. The rest of the townspeople shifted slightly, moving as one to focus on this man as he walked slowly to the center of the platform.
One step.
Two steps.
Kira shifted her weight. Something in the back of her mind told her that his words would change everything—would decide her fate.
Three steps.
Four steps.
He stopped, looking toward her grandfather and then back at the Punisher leading his council.
"I was with Kira in that dungeon. I was down there for a long time before she came, just praying for a miracle—just praying someone would come save me." He focused his attention on Kira—the green in his eyes was forced back by the wave of yellow-orange flames fanning out from his pupils.
"At first, I admit, I thought she was a vampire come to torture me. I met her blue eyes with defiance. But then, she lit a fire so hot it burned the pain from my limbs, seared closed my cuts and somehow healed me. And not only me, but every other conduit trapped down there. I believed she was our savior, and I owe her my life." He nodded, silently thanking Kira in a way he never had before. She accepted it cautiously, just waiting for the huge "but" in his story.
He turned away from the Protectors, finally meeting the gazes of the redhaired council he had walked in with.
"But," he said. Here we go, thought Kira—it was almost painful for her to hold an eye roll back. What was it going to be? How she gave blood to Pavia? How she begged for memories of her mother?
"But there is one thing that scares me about this girl, something I would not bring up if the situation were not so dire. She is good, completely good down to the core. So good in fact, that destroying evil things feels just. Unlike Punishers, who kill for the job, because it is what we were put on this earth to do, Kira kills for the vindication it brings, for the sense of rightness that settles inside of her heart. And on a normal conduit, that would not be a problem. But she is not normal. She is two halves rejoined, an original. And every time she lusts for the kill, she falls unknowingly closer toward the darkness. We all know the histories, the stories that were passed down by our ancestors no matter what sort of conduit you are. An angel cannot fall, because if she does, no one on this earth would be strong enough to stop her."
The silence following his speech was like a dagger plunging into Kira's chest, stealing both her breath and her words. He was right—he knew it, and the other conduits seemed to know it as well.
The heat from their stares scorched her skin, burning with accusations. She stepped back as if punched in the gut, not knowing where to look or how to escape the scrutiny. But worse, she couldn't run away from the part of her that couldn't help but ask if maybe he was right, if maybe it was the truth in his words that really stung.
And all of a sudden, that little speck of darkness burrowed in the deepest crevice of her heart slivered out, expanding just enough to draw Kira's notice. Two days had passed since Aldrich's castle—two days of denial. But now, in front of an entire town searching for explanations, Kira couldn't hide.
A filmy oil slipped silently through her veins, shrouding her light, casting shadows over her power. The black ghost clinging to her heart expanded, pushing her always-churning flames to the side, forcing its way through. The darkness was begging for release, daring her to give in. It was almost too tempting—an entire town of vulnerable conduits—something no vampire would give up, an opportunity the evilness clinging to Kira couldn't pass up.
Subconsciously, she licked her lips. Her eyes began to glow a bright sky blue devoid of any hint of yellow and she leaned forward on her toes, a body ready to pounce.
The part of Kira still together, still connected to the sun, fought back. She clenched her fists, a movement only Luke could feel as close as they were. He looked down at her, mistaking it for fury. But Kira knew better, and she squeezed her fingers, using her nails to cut deep gashes in her palms.
As always, the pain shocked her back into control. Her flames broke through the sticky tar hardening in her limbs, forcing a retreat. The fire rushed forward and her hands faintly glowed as her powers took control, healing the cuts.
"Kira." Luke nudged her. For once, he couldn't read exactly what was going on in her mind. He thought her anger was making her lose it.
She ignored Luke and stepped forward, closer to Noah. Pulling her flames up around her heart, Kira pushed the darkness back into hiding—searing the edges and trapping it once more.
"And what would you do to prevent that?" she asked him. Part of her was curious, but part of her knew that getting angry was the only way to make her flames burn strong enough to keep her conduit-side in control.
"Anything," he responded coolly.
"Will you kill me?" Kira whispered. He didn't say anything but leveled an unyielding gaze on her. "So that's it then?" She shook her head, looking back to the razor sharp eyes of the Punisher leader. "That's the big plan? To kill me?" He shifted his gaze to the floor, breaking slightly under Kira's scrutiny. The silence spoke loudly enough.
The conduits kept their gazes locked on Kira.
"Have you even thought of all the good I could do?" she asked, still refusing to give this Punisher a break. Instead, Kira challenged him, walking closer to his sturdy wooden chair. He had nowhere to move, no way to escape. Her fire settled in, rumbling like a volcano ready to explode. Flames licked the underside of her palms, wishing for release.
The image of Tristan popped into her head—his face fast asleep and free of the sharp-edged stress lines normally digging deep into his skin. She had saved him—she had done that with her conduit powers, with her fire. And what if there were others like him out there? More vampires who wanted to be free of the curse? Would all of these people just turn their backs out of fear—was the unknown really so scary?
All Kira knew was the unknown, her life was uncharted territory. And yes, it was scary, but it was also exhilarating to write her own fate.
"I saved one vampire—I can save more. Who knows what we can do? Maybe I can teach you how to heal them, how to bring the humanity back to a vampire who wishes to be saved. We can make a real difference. We can forever alter the scales and take control back from the vampires who completely outnumber us. All you need to do is give me a chance to prove myself, just one chance."
"Well said," Kira's grandfather interjected, using his deep rumble to catch the attention of the crowd and cut Kira off while she was still ahead. And Kira sensed it—the slightly favorable note playing faintly through the air—the Protectors were still on her side…for now. And the idea that she wasn't alone finally calmed Kira, letting her blood cool off and her flames retreat.
"We have all been presented with a lot of questions and very few answers," her grandfather continued. "I for one would like a night to discuss today's events with my fellow council members—a chance to regroup and figure out how we can meet in the middle to make a united decision."
He stepped off of his throne, reaching to the side for the wooden cane camouflaged against the chair leg. Without looking back, he shuffled to the edge of the platform and stopped right before the first step. Putting his hand out, palm facing the sun and the majority of the townspeople, he said, "May the sun shine down upon you for al
l of your days."
"May it protect you until the end," everyone—Protectors and Punishers, councilmen and laymen, and even Kira—responded.
With the traditional closing words spoken, the mood around the square visibly relaxed. Councilmen stepped off of their chairs to their waiting families below. Children began to run around. Friends began to gossip. The grassy lawn began to clear as people made their way home. And Kira felt she could finally breathe again, like the air was somehow fresher. It might have been a shaky victory, but hey, beggars couldn't be choosers.
So, following Luke, Kira walked off the platform and took a deep breath, unsure of where to go.
There was always Luke's home, but his sister was watching Kira like a hawk. Or the hospital, if Tristan was awake enough to try to face his new reality again. But no, Kira realized what she needed to do. Her mother was waiting somewhere in the crowd, armed with either a warm hug or a harsh lecture. Kira was ready for both.
"Have you seen my mom?" she asked Luke, confused about how any redheaded woman would be so hard to find in this crowd.
"Your mother is right here."
Kira jumped. She recognized the ice in that voice.
"Hey, Mom," she said casually, turning around with a weak smile.
The eyebrow raised and Kira's spirits dropped. So it was going to be a lecture. What is the point of narrowly escaping death, Kira thought, if you still get yelled at by your mother?
"We're leaving." She grabbed Kira's hand. "Good to see you, Luke."
"You too, Mrs. Dawson," he said, looking at Kira like a deer caught in the headlights. "Um, is that my sister over there?" He waved to no one and slipped away quickly.
Coward, Kira accused with a grimace.
"Come on." Her mom tugged on her hand.
"But Grandpa, he said to go to the house, to reconvene, to talk strategy…"
The eyebrow rose higher.
"Your grandfather can wait," her mother said.
Kira took a deep breath, trying to think of a response, but the air just spilled out, completely deflating her body.
The Complete Midnight Fire Series Page 61
