With a blink of my eyes, I once again stood next to the ledge. The colorless haze of a vision, gone. Tristan still lay flat on his back, recovering from my punch. The only difference was my height. I seemed shorter. The soles of my feet rubbed across rough patches of concrete. My shoes were off, as I had removed them from inside my vision. A strange vision, one where time stopped and nothing made sense.
No more moments were left to ponder the baffling experience because the vampire suddenly moved. Taking off at his inhuman speed, Tristan raced toward an escape. He stumbled to a halt as he reached my barrier, and the sight of it left me feeling powerful. For the first time, I truly had the upper hand on the vampire. I smiled.
“How did you do that?” Tristan spun around to face me. His eye widened. “Kiara, no. You need to listen to me, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” I slammed him hard into the crates.
Tristan regained his balance while his facial features deepened into hard lines. Pointed fangs appeared on white teeth as he grimaced. Then he lunged.
I was ready. The sparring with Tristan I’d done during the past six weeks had been more about working on my visions and less about actual fighting techniques. But the basics I had down, and my continued righteous anger from my near-death experience drew upon every instinct I had.
Time became a blur as we moved. Both intent upon being the victor in this fight. And it was a fight. There was no sparring in this moment. My surroundings meshed together as we sometimes circled, other times pivoted. Offense and defense changed every few seconds since we fought almost evenly matched. Never before had I felt so powerful in my strength.
I took a hard tumble when Tristan nailed a strong right hook. No doubt turning a perfect pivot into the punch that I always failed to maintain. Lying on my back, I looked up. Tristan stood over me, staring down.
“Are we done?” he asked, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.
“Not on your life.” Kicking out my leg, Tristan dropped to the ground… thanks to my perfect aim. Before he could move, I was on top of him. Straddling his waist, and pinning him down with the hard pressure of my hands wrapped around his neck.
“What do you plan to do, Kiara?” he asked. “You want to kill me? With what?”
I had nothing to behead him, or to stake him with. The two options for killing a vampire other than sunlight. At least, I was pretty certain those were the methods for a vamp to die. My only resource being television shows and movies. I hadn’t researched vampire killing methods. Never before had there been a need.
Before I could contemplate my next move, a scraping sounded from the stairwell door. It was shoved partially open, and Wilcox and Andrew squeezed through the narrow gap between door and frame. Catching sight of Tristan and me, their movements stilled in shock.
“What the hell is going on?” Wilcox asked.
“Kiara has her powers.” Tristan dropped his head back on the concrete with a defeated thud. “All of them.”
Chapter 19
Addie told me how she’d died when I was six. It’d happened during the wintertime when she was eight years old. There weren’t a lot of kids to play with where Addie grew up, and she’d tried making friends with her ten-year-old neighbor, Diana, but Diana wasn’t always very nice.
One cold day, when it was freezing enough that the ground had been covered in snow for more than a week, and the wind held a bitter nip in the air, Addie found Diana outside playing with a neighborhood boy near a pond. Instead of a welcome, Addie received cruel insults. Not wanting to play with the younger girl, Diana had snatched the scarf from around Addie’s neck and tossed it. The knitted wool landed on top of the frozen pond, and as Addie attempted to retrieve it, the ice broke. Frigid cold water was Addie’s last memory of being alive.
After hearing the story, I decided I didn’t like mean people. My six years of life experience was enough for me to determine it was my responsibility to put a stop to bullying. Protect the innocent. Not that I even knew that mean kids who picked on others had an official name. Bully. What I knew was that Mary Anne Wentworth was the meanest kid in my first-grade class, and the smallest girl in the class, Sarah Jacobs, didn’t stand a chance.
I had liked Sarah. One afternoon I’d lost my sky blue crayon, and Sarah had lent me hers. She’d always given me shy, friendly smiles while the other kids called me strange. This was before I learned to not speak publicly about Addie. It made me mad when the rest of my classmates told me to go play with my imaginary friend. Each one refusing to believe Addie was real.
Despite that, I had never truly become upset while at school until one afternoon. While outside for recesses, I found Mary Anne near the slide. Sarah was trapped between her and the ladder. Mary Anne demanded that Sarah give her the unicorn eraser Sarah had earned from Mrs. West for getting all of her worksheets correct that week.
Laughter met my demands for Mary Anne to leave Sarah alone. Feeling that a stronger method of communication needed to be had in order to convey my verbal message, I attacked. The fight consisted of flailing arms and rolling in the dirt before the teachers broke it up. But as I’d stumbled to my feet and faced my punishment, I’d felt no regret for sticking up for the nicest kid in first grade. That was, until Sarah, when asked, claimed that she’d given Mary Anne the eraser and my attack on the school bully was unprovoked.
Righteousness for protecting the innocent was replaced with feelings of being cold and alone as I was marched into the principal’s office. Sarah never again smiled at me after that day.
Cold and alone was how I felt as I slid off Tristan and onto the rough rooftop, allowing the vamp to rise to his feet. I didn’t stand, but instead remained huddled in a feeble attempt to pull myself into an unnoticeable ball. Begging to be ignored. Left alone. The crisp air felt twenty degrees cooler than it had moments before. Mind was blessedly blank. I tugged at a small rip in my dress. Betty Homemaker I wasn’t. The gown was destined for the trash.
Blood was smeared on Tristan’s face, and I watched him rub his jaw. My own chin felt sore, and I was curious to know what my reflection would reveal. Thanks to the glances cast my way, I was already pretty certain I didn’t actually want to look.
“Kiara.”
Wilcox’s hand touched my shoulder, and I jerked away. Wisely, the man took a deliberate step back. Over the past few weeks, I’d grown accustomed to Wilcox’s touch, his comforting support. Now realizing that I was nothing more than an obligation to him was another punch in the gut. Nerves sharpened into painful pricks at the realization of how truly alone I was.
A suit jacket was draped over my shoulders before Andrew pulled me up to my feet. “We need to go inside. A call came in about the two of you from someone in a neighboring building.”
A soft snort escaped me, but I couldn’t help it. What a sight we must have made. The stern faces surrounding me didn’t share my amusement. I could only speculate that the frowns would deepen even further if cell phone footage wound up posted to YouTube.
“You both just happened to be the ones to take this call?” I asked.
“We were already on our way over when it came in,” Wilcox said. “To speak with Tristan.”
An attempt was made on my part to wonder why two homicide detectives needed to speak with a vampire, then I decided to screw it. Emotions were too battered at that moment to care. Instead, I turned and stormed toward the stairwell door.
The elevator ride down sixty-four flights was awkward. Cramped as well. The space inside too small for three large men, especially when I sought to avoid two of the three.
Once inside Tristan’s apartment, a cup of water was placed in front of me as I took a seat at a small table. Andrew sat in the next chair while Wilcox hung out by the counter near the door. Tristan sank down on his couch and leaned his head back.
“Well, that was the most excitement I’ve had in a couple hundred years.”
Wilcox’s stern gaze shot in Trist
an’s direction. “Tell me what happened.”
I spoke up before Tristan could speak. “He attempted to shove me off a sixty story building. That’s what happened.”
Tristan stood and faced me. “I was never going to drop you, Kiara, but you would not listen.”
“You held me off the side of the building. How the hell was I supposed to trust you when I had to escape from you?”
“Okay, enough.” Wilcox straightened from his casual slouch. “Tristan, were you trying to kill Kiara?”
“No, but I held her off the edge of the roof.”
“Why?” Andrew asked softly.
“Trashae and—”
“Really?” I jumped to my feet, cutting him off. “That woman is not here to protect me. She’s here to kill me.”
“She doesn’t want to kill you,” Tristan said. “We both agreed that drastic measures needed to be taken so you could release your full powers. Mentally, you were holding yourself back. And you have, Kiara. You now have your powers. You’re stronger.”
My jaw clenched.
“What can she do?” Wilcox asked.
Tristan plopped back down, stretching his long legs out in front of him. A sense of relaxed calm flashed across his face. “How did you move those crates?”
“Kiara was the one who blocked the door?”
“Yes, but I never saw her do it, and I don’t think she used telekinesis.”
I sank onto the chair, staring hard at Tristan before turning my attention back to the water. I hadn’t a clue as to how I’d done anything up on the roof, but I didn’t trust anyone inside the room enough to hash it out. Yet three sets of eyes were pinned on me, awaiting my answer. Finally, I gave a response in the form of a shrug.
Andrew leaned toward me. “What happened to your pendant?”
My hand flew up to touch my unadorned chest. Neck acknowledged that the heavy weight it was accustomed to dealing with was now missing in action. “He broke it. Tristan broke the chain, and it fell off before he tried shoving me off the roof.”
“I did not shove you.”
“Only my toes remained touching,” I said. “The rest of me stared at the traffic below.”
Wilcox rubbed at his forehead before leaning back against the counter. Arms tightly crossed over his chest.
“You fought a vampire without the aid of your Praedator crystals?” Andrew asked.
Eyes widened as the realization sank in, but before I could open my mouth to speak…
“It was a hindrance to her.”
Everyone in the room stared at Tristan before Wilcox asked, “What do you mean?”
“That is what Trashae and I determined,” Tristan said. “Those crystals were not meant to be in the possession of someone with Kiara’s capabilities. They help enhance a cambion who relies solely on their demon blood. Kiara’s part demon, but she’s also part Druid, and I don’t think anyone has taken that into consideration until Trashae.”
“Kiara.” Wilcox took a seat on the other side of me. “Would you please tell us what you’re capable of?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, refusing to meet his gaze. What did I explain? That the air outside had somehow turned tangible at my touch, a manipulation I must have somehow created? Because, seriously, there was no explanation for something that defied all logic. Or that the strength inside of me now felt even greater than when I wore the Praedator pendant?
It was the memory of my visions causing me to shift back in my chair, away from Wilcox’s intense stare that burned against my face. I had not only seen the future, but I’d also made the future time stop before making changes that somehow existed when I returned to present time. How was that even possible? More importantly, could it be done again?
“Kiara? I really need you to speak to me… tell me what happened.”
Biting my lip, the urge to remain mute stayed strong. Emotions too high-strung for me to want to have any type of conversation with Wilcox at that moment. There was, however, one thing I could do. Closing my eyes, I tuned out my surroundings except for the sound of my breath. I wanted a vision that was only moments into the future, so that was where my focus directed. There needed to be something—a circumstance—I could manipulate. Eyelids slowly lifted up, and I stared at the off-colored scene in front of me. Only the slightest tingle of thrilled pleasure was felt for finally getting the hang of the seeing into the future thing after having tried for so long.
“Beer in the fridge,” Tristan said. His eyes were closed as he remained lounging on the couch. No more bared fangs graced his smooth lips, as they had on the rooftop. He’d seemed rather… peaceful since our fight had concluded. Content. Which made me all the more leery of the man.
Wilcox was still in his seat at the table, facing me. His lips pressed together in a hard slash while frown lines marred his brow. A perfect display of the man’s irritated expression. My silence of answers to his questions must have remained strong judging by his level of frustration. Good. Now my own disgruntlement was about to be shown by giving him one simple answer to my powers in the best way possible.
Shoving back his chair, it took the detective only a couple of steps to reach the refrigerator. He threw a glance at Andrew over his shoulder while his hand paused on the stainless steel door. “Beer?”
“No, thanks.”
Wilcox’s gaze drifted to meet mine. His mouth opened and closed almost simultaneously. Apparently me not speaking to him equated to him no longer speaking with me. With a sharp tug, the fridge door opened and Wilcox grimaced. Bags of blood greeted his vision, no doubt. My own face having previously contorted into the same look as I’d once snuck a peek inside that same refrigerator after a practice session with Tristan.
I bit back a smirk at the speed with which Wilcox yanked out a bottle before slamming the door shut. Several seconds were then taken for him to search out an opener. When Wilcox returned to his seat at the table, I decided what it was I should do.
Focus. That was what I recalled doing with Tristan earlier that night. A deep focus as I stared hard at the detective seated next to me. His movements while raising the drink to his lips slowed, and then stopped. I made some quick calculations. The entire room was frozen. Wilcox mid-sip. Tristan relaxing. Andrew staring at me with a thoughtful expression marring his normally unperturbed face.
Jerking the beer out of Wilcox’s hand, I set the bottle back onto the counter. It took a few moments of snooping where I didn’t belong, but finally, I found what I wanted. Pen and paper. A quick note was scribbled and placed next to the beer. Closing my eyes, I focused on the present. Reopening my lids, I found myself back sitting in the chair with the color surrounding me restored to normal.
“Are you not speaking to me at all?” Wilcox asked.
Leaning back in my seat, I folded my arms. Andrew shifted, the new angle better for him to observe me. The intensity of his gaze was strong, almost as strong as the ones Wilcox often sent my way.
“I give up.” Wilcox ran a hand through his hair, and I’d forgotten to take count of what number that gesture was since we’d entered the apartment. Not that I was in the mood for caring how much agitation I caused the man. Wilcox’s head shook. “Tonight… everything is… Kiara, this is too important for you to hold back on us.”
“Beer in the fridge,” Tristan called.
Wilcox stood from his chair and stepped toward the refrigerator. He reached for the handle to the door and then froze. With silent movements, he swiped the paper off the counter and gave a wary look toward the open beer bottle.
“What does it say?” Andrew asked.
“Your beer, Detective.”
All eyes turned toward me. Apparently even Tristan’s as I heard a “What the hell…” from his direction of the room.
Wilcox studied me. “So you somehow opened a beer for me without moving from your seat?”
“No, Ty,” I said. “You opened that bottle. I only left you the note.”
Three different voices began speaki
ng at once, and I tuned them all out as I stared at the table. Finally, the illegible words surrounding me trickled into silence.
Andrew nudged my shoulder. “Are you ready to explain?”
I glanced up and noticed Tristan now standing to Andrew’s left. Taking a deep breath, I said, “It’s simple. I have a vision of future events, I can freeze future time, and then I can change something in the future that stays with me when I return to the present.”
At least, I was pretty certain that was how it worked.
“You already saw Ty grabbing a beer?”
“Yes, and then I froze time and put the bottle on the counter.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like this,” Tristan said before glaring at Andrew. “You?”
I barely comprehended Andrew’s baffled shrug as I watched Wilcox. Weariness practically radiated off the man as he continued eyeing the opened beer bottle, the one he still had not touched. Refused now, no doubt.
Remembrance was harsh as I recalled my first-grade classmates. All of them believed I was a strange girl simply because I spoke about my dead friend, Addie. Not until Hadley had moved to town during the middle of the school year did I finally have a friend. A someone who didn’t laugh at me or call me names. A someone who actually wanted to know about Addie. Who would speak to Addie about her day and then ask me to repeat Addie’s response. Hadley had never made me feel weird, and I’d been able to shrug off that long-ago ridicule. Until now. Tonight, watching Wilcox absorb this new information about me, I felt all of those insecurities flooding back.
“Why did you come to visit Tristan tonight?” I asked.
Wilcox’s gaze snapped to mine. Impersonal. Professional. And I turned my head away. Praying he didn’t see the hurt in my own eyes.
“There was another suicide,” Wilcox said.
“The victim fit the profile.” Andrew stood, walked over to the counter and snagged the opened beer on the counter before returning to his seat. “Our demon is back on the loose.”
Damn, that was fast. I drummed my fingers against the table top. “What about Siobhan?” I asked. “Was there anything to rule her as…”
Destined to Reap (Reaping Fate Book 3) Page 21
