"I'm sorry," he said, his body still jerking. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean, I can't control it, you just…" He crumbled again, hugging his knees into his chest, rocking slowly back and forth on the ground whispering apologies and refusals over and over again.
His skin was whiter, more ghostly than when he had been a vampire. His eyes had come back, but they were trapped, stuck open and staring at a scene Kira wished she could understand just so she could help him in some way.
And then his body stopped, his limbs fell open on the ground, unmoving, and his breath became shallow. Pavia had been right—no human could survive remembering the emptiness that came from being a vampire. No human could live with the soullessness, the horror, especially not Tristan, the artist, the believer.
He was dying, dying from remembering everything about his life.
But Kira refused to let that happen.
She jumped forward, placing her hands over his heart, on the firm chest she used to fall asleep on. Her powers surged, but Kira willed them away, refusing to let the darkness confuse her thoughts. Instead, Kira pumped her hands, pressing on his chest.
She leaned down, sealing her warm lips against his cold ones, and for the first time, the fact that his lips were cold frightened Kira. Because they weren't the cold lips of a vampire, they were the cold lips of death.
She forced air into his still lungs. Pumping one, two, three. Breathing. Pumping. Breathing.
Beat, damn you, Kira thought, refusing to cry, because crying would mean that he was lost. Just start beating, she repeated again and again, just stay alive a little while longer.
And almost as if he heard her prayers, Tristan's lips opened and he gasped, sucking air into his body. His heart sped, getting stronger, slowly regaining a life of its own.
Kira pulled back as his eyes fluttered open. He sat up—dazed, confused—and looked around.
"What's going on?" he asked. Still her Tristan, Kira sighed, recognizing the tone in that question. She reached over, stroking his cheek while a small, sad smile spread across her features. It was time to say goodbye. "It feels like I was dreaming, like I'm waking up and everything else is slowly fading away."
He touched his forehead, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and then opening them again. "Kira?"
Her hands fell to his lap, holding tightly onto his fingers.
"Tristan," she said, sighing. "I'm going to miss you more than you'll ever know." And he wouldn't know, his memories would be gone, but Kira would keep them close to her heart, alive enough for the both of them.
"You're doing this aren't you? I mean, it was your idea?"
Kira nodded, hoping he would understand. For a moment, pain danced across his features, but then it softened and he broke free of her grip to run his fingers lightly along her jaw line.
"You're always trying to save me," he said, letting a lopsided grin takeover.
"You won’t need to be saved anymore," she told him softly, bittersweetly.
"You saved me the moment you let me love you, let me know that some part of me was still capable of being good."
"You didn't need me to be a good person," she said, shaking her head. He had always been that way, been gentle and kind, at least to her.
"But I did. You brought me back to life, more than once." He stopped, shaking his head, trying to pull at a fading memory. "How did we meet? Will you tell me again?"
A sob pulled on the back of her throat. It had begun. Her voice was shaking. "At school. In our English class."
He laughed. "That's right. Then what happened? Did we go to the marsh?"
Kira closed her eyes slowly, taking a deep breath. She couldn't do this. So instead, she leaned down, putting her head on his shoulder, the little nook next to his neck. Tristan wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
Kira listened to his beating heart, his beating, human heart. She did that. She saved him. She'd brought him back to life.
Tristan lightly pushed her back, made her sit up, and gripped her shoulder strongly. His eyes were clear, focused, like he understood everything that was going on—as if his entire life were flashing right before his eyes in the moment before it disappeared entirely. And maybe it was.
"I love you," he said, his voice steadfast.
"I love you too," Kira told him, trying to equal his resolve, but her voice was cracking. He was dying right before her eyes. The Tristan she knew, the one she loved, was almost gone forever.
He gripped her face, running his eyes over the curve of her lips, her lashes, her cheeks. He wiped away the tear she couldn't contain, kissing it away, and then leaned down to gently kiss her lips one last time. It was salty, but perfect.
He pulled back. Kira couldn't move. The resolve was vanishing, the light, the memories. Kira watched them flash and fade.
"Thank you," Tristan whispered, and then his eyes closed and he fell, as if in slow motion, back to the ground, curled on his side like a sleeping child. A small smile curved his lips, and his face looked relaxed, perfectly at peace.
Kira was the opposite. Her hand covered her mouth, holding back the crying sounds she wanted to make. Her tears fell silently. Her body shook.
Pavia, job done, let Tristan go. She stepped over his body and wrapped her arms around Kira.
And though she was cold, and technically Kira's enemy, it didn’t matter. Kira hugged her back, crying into her shoulder, getting comfort from the woman who had somehow become her friend.
"He's gone," Kira cried. Tristan, her Tristan, was just a memory living inside of her head.
"He's alive, Kira, he's right there, breathing, because of you."
Kira looked over Pavia's shoulder at Tristan.
"He's in a better place now," Pavia whispered, continuing to hug her tightly. "You saved his soul, you saved him."
She heard Pavia. She knew the words were true, but it didn't ease the pain.
Kira leaned back, letting her go. The only person who could truly make her feel better at that moment was Luke, who was still in the town square, hopefully convincing everyone that a fight was fast approaching.
A fight that wouldn't stop just to let Kira ease her wounded heart.
She sniffled, drawing the tears back in. "You have to leave," Kira said, "you have to leave, and you have to bring Tristan with you. I'm trusting you to keep him safe."
"Wouldn't it be better to leave him with you? Inside the wall?"
Kira shook her head, reality crashing back down. "I don't know what's going to happen to me, if I'll even be able to keep it together. If vampires find a way in, come looking for me, I won't be able to keep him safe. I can't use my powers, not to fight." The shadows were too close.
Pavia looked down, her features soft—her hard, sarcastic exterior had evaporated. "I won't let you down."
They both knelt, leaning over Tristan's body. Kira brushed a strand of ebony hair from his face, looking at him one last time with love in her eyes.
Pavia reached out, but Kira stopped her with a touch.
"You told me once that vampires couldn't love…" Kira trailed off.
"I was wrong," Pavia said.
"But it's why you want to turn, right? For that chance?"
Pavia nodded slowly, wondering where Kira was going.
"Could you love him?" Kira asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers still gently stroking his cheek.
"Not as I am now," Pavia said. Kira shifted to look into the vampire's clear blue eyes. "But the girl I once was, the one I want to be again, I think she could. I can see her falling head over heels for a guy like him."
Kira nodded. There was nothing else to say. And Pavia understood. She reached under Tristan's body, lifting him easily from the ground. Kira stayed seated, glued to her spot as Pavia turned and walked away, disappearing into the basement.
Stones scraped, shuffled below her, and then Kira was alone. Pavia and Tristan were gone, escaping through the tunnel, running with vampiric speed out of Sonnyville.
/> Kira curled into a ball, slipping over onto her side. She dreamt that his arms were around her, cradling her, rocking her back and forth to soothe the pain. She didn't think it would be this hard to say goodbye. But it was. It was hard remembering everything that Tristan had just forgotten.
The first time they met, she fell right then. Looking at him, meeting those crisp blue eyes seconds before class began, it had been enough. That afternoon in Charleston he had been a puzzle she couldn't wait to solve, a challenge that hooked her interest. Even when she had realized what the secret was, that he was a vampire, she hadn't been able to stay away. The day in the marsh was still perfect, something no one could take away.
The memories played one by one, making her smile, laugh, cry some more, until finally her thoughts reached England. Her chin shook remembering the night they had shared, when Tristan was the happiest she had ever seen, when he believed the future was theirs for the taking, that the two of them could be together forever.
But Kira had always known differently—they were doomed from the start. But, she smiled, Kira wouldn't have changed a thing, not even today, not even the end. He was at peace. The haunt to his eyes, the walls Kira had always wanted to bring down, they were finally gone. His soul was healed, and if that meant he had to forget, Kira would remember their happiness enough for the both of them.
And that thought made her sit up, because this wasn't the girl Tristan had fallen in love with. It wasn't who he would want her to be. More than anything, Tristan wanted Kira to be happy, to be the fighter, the spark of life.
Kira rubbed the tears from her eyes, drying them, and stood, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The day wasn't over yet.
But one thing was. She had made her choice—it was Luke, it had to be Luke. Her parents would have wanted her to choose love, and even Tristan would have wanted her to choose happiness, to live her life. So she would try to let her Punisher powers go, to release them, to split herself to save herself.
To choose love.
To choose Luke.
But just in case, Kira had always known what the backup plan would be. She would rather die than fall, would rather have her friends mourn than fear her. If the price to keep the conduits alive was death, Kira would do it, because she was strong, and because she refused to be the killer Aldrich wanted her to be.
That was her vengeance.
Kira walked slowly over to the suitcase resting in the corner of the room and slipped open a zipper. A small pocketknife fell out, the one she knew Luke kept in his bedside table. It had been a gift from his father when he turned of age, when he went on his first mission.
And Kira had stolen it to do something Luke would never ever agree with.
She flipped open the blade, feeling along its edge. Razor sharp.
If she couldn’t split her powers, couldn't transform into a true conduit, couldn't stop herself from falling, there was another option. It wasn't just turning into a conduit or falling into an original vampire. There was death too—a third choice that only Kira and the Punisher Council had been willing to admit existed.
Kira flipped the pocketknife shut, stuffing it into her sneaker, wedging it somewhat painfully beside her foot.
Just in case, Kira told herself, she needed it just in case.
But then her heart lifted.
Luke was close, Kira could feel him, could feel the excitement bouncing off of him in waves. The council meeting must have gone well, his thoughts were bubbling over the bond, but Kira let them come, let them flood her senses and overwhelm her—a river of champagne.
Instantly, her mood began to shift. Happiness tingled down her arms, her legs, up her spine into her very thoughts.
Kira began to laugh, because the closer he came, the closer he was to knowing that Kira had made her choice, and he was it.
Kira raced to the door, peering out the glass to wait and watch for his blond head to appear around the corner.
Luke, she said to herself. She was in love with him and finally, finally, Kira could tell him how she felt—how she might have felt all along.
Luke, she sighed, letting his name send a sense of calm around her body.
Luke, she repeated, forcing the slight pain of the knife in her shoe out of her mind.
He was here.
Chapter Fifteen
As soon as Luke opened the door, Kira jumped on him—arms thrown around his neck, lips landing tightly on his.
Instinctively, Luke caught her around the waist, securing her with his lean but strong arms. Without question, he returned her kiss, moving his mouth naturally against hers, as though the two belonged to each other.
He stepped farther inside, bringing Kira with him, but she didn’t notice. Her thoughts were completely consumed by Luke. Making her choice, finally knowing once and for all that Luke was her future, had awakened something within Kira. Her inhibitions were gone—any urge to stop, to hesitate, had vanished.
Instead, she ripped apart the wall she had built in her mind, letting Luke fill every part of her, mirroring every one of his emotions with her own.
I love you, she thought, and hugged him tighter, forcing the thought with her actions because she didn’t want to break for words.
But Luke pushed against her hips, gripping them with his hands, and pulled her toward the far away floor. Kira lifted her feet. She didn't want to stop. But Luke pressed, leaning his head back to break their contact.
Kira dropped her hands, slipping slowly down his body until her feet landed silently on the floor. Their breath mingled in the small space between their lips, heavy and ragged. Kira looked up into Luke's quizzical eyes.
"Kira?"
She nodded. He continued breathing heavily, trying to regain some brainpower.
"Do you know why I stopped us?" he asked, brows furrowed together in true confusion.
Kira shook her head—she didn’t feel like talking. He shrugged.
"Me neither." He lifted her back up, pulling Kira into his chest to seal their lips together again. She smiled against his mouth, grinning wildly, as he walked both of them to the couch.
He half-sat, half-fell and Kira landed on top of him, straddling his hips, actually taller than him for once.
Luke pushed her back. "I remember," he panted.
Kira leaned forward, trapping his lips. She didn't care.
"It's." Kira kissed him. "About." She interrupted him again. "The council."
Kira paused, but Luke's fingers were reaching under the hem of her shirt, skimming the bare skin above her shorts and she couldn't think of a response. There was a battle raging inside of his head. She blocked it out. Her resolve was very much fixed in one direction, and for once it wasn't business.
His palms landed on her shoulders, pushing her back. "Okay," he said, trying to be firm, but his voice was airy. Kira met his eyes—his sparking, dancing eyes. She traced the line down his freckled nose, following the slight curve to the left side of his lips. Her fingers inched up, twirling a lock of blond hair between her fingers.
Her gaze traveled back to his eyes. His resistance was adorable.
"I love you," Kira said, her voice strong and steady, despite the lack of oxygen in her lungs.
Luke groaned, reaching for her again. He cupped her cheeks, bringing Kira close, and reached his fingers back around to the base of her neck, gripping her hair.
Then in one swift move, Luke pushed Kira onto the other sofa cushion and stood up, completely separating their bodies.
Panting and pacing, he started to speak, low at first and then louder. "No, there is an imminent battle outside. A whole town of conduits depending on us, not to mention a whole troop of children heading this way. We can't, I mean, that was awesome, amazing, not that I'm complaining, although I guess technically this is complaining, and now I'm mumbling…" He stopped, finally turning in Kira's direction, where she sat innocently with her hands crossed. "What in the world has gotten into you?"
Kira smirked. Where there had been
pain associated with the words before, there was now only excitement. "Pavia erased Tristan's memories."
"How did she…" He shook his head, a grin slowly spreading. "Wait, he doesn’t remember anything?"
"No," Kira said. "I told her to erase all of the memories of his life as a vampire. All of them."
"Why?" he said cautiously. Hope glimmered in his fiery eyes.
There were a few reasons, she knew there were, but in that moment Kira could only think of one. "You."
Luke closed the gap, kissing her again, before quickly pulling away. He shook his head, clearing his glazed-over eyes. "God, you are driving me crazy right now."
"Don’t I always drive you crazy?" she asked sweetly.
"In more ways than one," he said wryly.
Kira stood and Luke took a step back. She walked forward. He veered around the other side of the couch, using it as a barrier, and pointed at her. "You, stay back."
Kira rolled her eyes and shuffled her feet forward.
"Kira, I'm serious. We have a lot to figure out." He didn’t sound very serious. In fact, he sounded a little torn. She lifted her foot…
"Obi-Wan never had to deal with this," Luke mumbled and shifted backward.
Kira sighed and crossed her arms. "Fine, go ahead."
"Okay." He nodded and looked around, grabbing a chair from the dining room. "You sit on the couch," he said, jerking his head in that direction. Once Kira obliged, he set the chair down a good five feet away and sat.
"So, what do you need to tell me?"
"Aldrich started his attack."
A cold pitcher of water landed on Kira's head, breaking the trance that had fallen over her body. The battle was here. "Why didn’t you say that earlier?" she demanded.
Luke's entire body slackened and he raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "I can't win with you," he whispered to himself after a minute.
"Nope," Kira teased. "What's going on out there?"
"It was actually pretty great timing." He leaned forward, resting his tan forearms on his knees. "Your grandfather was trying to convince the Punisher Council and the entire town that an attack was coming, but there was a bit of resistance. Even after last time, people think Sonnyville is impenetrable. And right as he was about to lose the crowd entirely, one of the Protectors he sent to guard the gate came running up, screaming about the hoard of vampires outside. After that, everyone shut up and started paying attention."
The Complete Midnight Fire Series Page 75
