Aldrich was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. Kira slipped her fingers into Tristan’s as they approached and never let go of his hand as they sunk slowly down to meet Aldrich in the main hallway. When he saw her shorts, Aldrich wrinkled his nose in disgust. Or maybe anger, Kira thought as his eyes flashed white. He clearly wasn’t used to people going against his orders, but Kira thought she was playing rather nicely at the moment. Her feet already ached because of the shoes, but was she complaining? No.
“You must be hungry,” Aldrich said to Kira, or was that to Tristan? “Come.”
They followed him into the dining room Kira had peeked into before. Walking in now, she saw the same large black table surrounded by darkly stained wooden chairs. The cushions were black silk and a cast-iron chandelier hung from the ceiling. But instead of electricity, there were candles with flickering flames. In this light, the antlers were more menacing: they were bleached white to blend into the wall, so the candles cast dark, finger-like shadows that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Kira noticed two doors against the far wall. The entire frame was made of polished white molding that reflected the light. Finally, Kira’s eyes landed on a china cabinet. But it was filled with glasses—wine glasses, champagne flutes, goblets of all sizes—there were no plates or bowls in sight.
Two chairs pulled free of the table, distracting Kira as they scratched along the floor. “Sit,” Aldrich said before walking to the head of the table, this time using his hand to move his chair.
“I hope the candles don’t bother you,” he said casually and leaned back in his seat, “I can’t stand bright electric bulbs. Call me old-fashioned.” He waved his hand absently through the air as if dismissing the thought.
“Where is my mother?” Kira asked. She was here for her mother and that was it. No more pretending that Aldrich was an old friend they hadn’t seen in a while. It was time to get down to business.
“She’ll be down in a moment, Kira. Patience,” he chided her as if she was still a little girl.
But patience wasn’t really her thing. The longer she sat, the more frustrated she became. And the more frustrated she became, the more Kira could feel her body heating up. Her blood began to boil. Fire stirred in her chest, sparking to life. Kira tried to breathe evenly and calm herself, but she was done with waiting. All she had been doing ever since Diana had mentioned her mother to escape Kira’s hold was wait. Wait to wake up from a coma. Wait because of Sonnyville. Wait to find Diana. Wait to visit Aldrich. She was done with that whole game.
“Why is it taking so long?” Kira said smoothly. Her voice was calm, but that was about the only part of her that was. Clenching her fists to keep her fire from jumping out of her body, Kira tried to sit still and remind herself that throwing a ball of flames at Aldrich’s smug face wouldn’t accomplish anything. Sure, she might laugh for a moment, but then he would be angry and Kira didn’t want to know how he would retaliate.
Tristan put his hand on her shoulder. His arm jerked slightly at the touch and Kira knew her skin stung. But the cool note of his hand helped calm her flames and she continued to focus on her breathing.
“She wants to look perfect for you, Kira,” Aldrich said, still as relaxed as ever. Either he couldn’t sense the storm brewing in Kira’s chest or he wasn’t afraid of it. For some reason, Kira couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was up there shaking her mother out of a trance and forcing her into a pretty dress. Just like the Asian servant from before, Kira couldn’t help but imagine her mother with vacant eyes, a lifeless walk and bruises across her skin. She couldn’t help but imagine two holes permanently poked through her neck from overuse and two lumps of scar tissue where a smooth nape should be.
“I told you I never harmed her,” Aldrich said as if sensing Kira’s thoughts. Kira spun to stare at him in anger, wondering if her own eyes were bright blue like Tristan’s when he was mad.
“I’m sorry if that’s a little hard to believe, seeing as we’re mortal enemies and everything.” Kira forced the words through her teeth.
“Mortal enemies? I’m sure Tristan is happy to hear that,” Aldrich said with raised eyebrows.
“Don’t twist my words around, you know what I mean.”
Aldrich sighed. For a moment, Kira couldn’t tell if it was heartfelt or more of an act. “Is it so hard to believe that I might have changed after a century?”
Kira snorted.
“Yes,” Tristan said from the chair next to her. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were curled almost into a snarl.
“Tristan,” Aldrich chided, “you of all people should understand that all it takes is the right girl to change a man.”
“Excuse me?” Kira asked in disbelief. “Are you trying to say my mother is, well, is like your girlfriend?”
“My wife, actually,” Aldrich said calmly, “and here she comes.”
Kira spun in her chair, eyes wide in disbelief. His wife? Seriously? What about her father, what about love will prevail, what about forever? They had given everything up to be together—friends, family, the only society they had ever known.
A woman appeared around the bend of the staircase, completely stopping Kira’s train of thought. She was tall and thin with golden blonde hair piled into a smooth bun on the top of her head. Her dress was dark blue silk, cinched almost like a Kimono with large sleeves and a sash that gathered at her waist. The skirt was narrow, but there were no curves on her mother’s thin frame, so it looked classic.
As she came closer, Kira could make out the shape of her face. She had the same slightly wide eyes that Kira had, but they were downcast and looking at the floor. Her small nose was again similar to Kira’s—there was no denying the resemblance. It was her mother. It had to be.
Finally, a slight smile gathered on the woman’s lips, and Kira was sure. It was the same secretive look from the photograph in her locket. She had memorized that look, played it over and over again in her mind.
“Mom?” Kira said and reached her arm out as if she could pull her mother closer. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, beating wildly with nerves. Sweat rose on her palms and Kira started to feel lightheaded. It was really her. Kira had dreamed of this moment for months. No one else believed her. Luke and Tristan both thought she was crazy to believe her mother was still alive, stupid for even thinking it. But here she was, walking towards Kira through soft candlelight.
“Mom?” Kira said again, stepping towards the door to greet her. Would she hug her? Would she just keep staring, worried that if she reached out to touch her mother, the image would disappear?
The woman stopped in the doorway, until finally, in slow motion, she raised her eyelids from the floor to look Kira in the eyes.
Kira’s heart stopped.
Blue.
Her mother’s eyes were blue.
The secretive smile widened slightly and two small teeth poked out from beneath her upper lip.
Kira’s legs felt weak.
Her mother wasn’t alive.
She was dead.
She was a vampire.
Chapter Five
Tristan caught Kira before she hit the ground, but she didn’t notice. Kira was numb. Her mind was completely blank save one image: teeth. Two teeth—slim, dainty, sharp, and wrong. They weren’t supposed to be there. They were ripping up her insides, shredding her nerves to useless strings, swallowing her thoughts like blood.
A face appeared above Kira. A hand, thin and unfamiliar, cupped her cheek. It was cool, like ice, and it stung her hot skin. Slowly the image came together. Blue eyes looking down at her, overly large just like hers. Two small pink lips were moving, speaking to her.
It felt like waking up from the coma all over again. Slowly her mind began to pull the pieces together. She was on the floor, resting in Tristan’s lap. The woman above her was her mother. Her mother was alive and speaking to her, trying to say something.
Her mother was here. She was alive. Alive. She was all right.
> “Kira, darling, are you okay?” Her voice was soft and warm. It was caring, like a mother’s should be, and it lulled Kira awake. In all of her dreams, this was the moment Kira had imagined. The reunion.
“Mom?” Kira said, reaching her own hand to her mother’s cheek. It was damp. “Mom,” Kira said again, just to confirm the truth in the statement.
Kira’s body lifted instinctively and her arms wrapped around her mother, gripping fiercely. “I thought you were dead,” Kira cried softly into her mother’s shoulder, “I never thought I would actually find you.” Her mother shushed Kira and stroked her hand down Kira’s curly hair, comforting her long lost daughter.
For a moment, Kira was blissfully happy. So happy she forgot herself, forgot her control, forgot where she was. It wasn’t until her mother cried out in pain that Kira realized what she doing and opened her eyes.
All three vampires stood on the other side of the room, crouched together against the flames bursting from Kira’s palms. The wine goblets in the cabinet started to rattle as Kira met Aldrich’s cold stare. He was ready to knock her out if need be. But it was an accident. She didn’t mean to.
Kira quelled her powers, closing her fingers tightly around her palms, trapping the fire inside.
No one moved. The only things alive in the room were the flickering candle flames and the shadows that danced with them. Kira looked away with shame. At first, the ugly feeling curdling in her stomach seemed self-directed. But peeking out of the corner of her eye, Kira realized the shame was not for her actions. The shame was for her mother, the blue dress cowering in the corner behind the sturdy bodies of Tristan and Aldrich. Kira couldn’t look at her mother like that. Couldn’t look at this woman, who in her dreams had understood Kira perfectly—who in her only memory had fought for Kira’s life with fire.
Blinking away tears, Kira couldn’t help but squirm with the wrongness of it all. She had been afraid her mother was really dead. She had been afraid that her mother was locked up somewhere, numb and bruised and weak. She had been afraid that her mother’s mind had vanished from multiple feedings or beatings at the hand of Aldrich. But Kira wasn’t prepared for this: for a mother who was afraid of her—for a mother who couldn’t be healed by her flames, but could die from them.
Tristan was the first to break the stalemate. He approached Kira, took her by the hand and forced her to look at him. He was worried, but Kira didn’t miss the drop of hope in his irises. She looked away.
“Why don’t we all take a moment to sit down,” Aldrich’s slick voice said.
With a hand on the small of her back, Tristan guided Kira to her seat then sat down beside her. On the other side of the table, Aldrich did the same with her mother. Six eyes stared at Kira, waiting for her to say something, but the words were stuck on her tongue. She didn’t know what to say or where to look. So she focused on the soft glowing flames over her mother’s shoulder, trying to draw comfort from the fire.
Again, Tristan broke the silence.
“How,” he started but swallowed the words when he realized how laced with mirth they were. Kira’s eyes were hollow, but his were happy and full of possibilities. Coughing, he spoke again, this time in a much more controlled manner. “How is this possible?”
“It’s simple, really,” Aldrich said, but paused when a new servant, one with the same vacant eyes, walked into the room holding a tray. Three goblets were placed on the table, one before each vampire, and a plate of food was set in front of Kira. Glancing down, Kira recognized chicken and smelled a hint of lemon in the sauce. For once, food did not interest her at all and she shifted her gaze to Tristan.
“Simple?” He asked while leaning forward in his seat. His eyes were glued to Aldrich, turning lighter and lighter with each passing second as he let his excitement gather. Absently, he reached for the cup and took a sip. When he set the cup down, his lips were stained red.
“It’s all about desire,” Aldrich spoke, distracting Kira with his own ruby lips. He smiled at her mother. The crevices between his teeth were crimson before he licked the excess liquid away. “Changing a conduit is really no different than changing a human, but the conduit has to want it.” Two pearly white hands clasped closer together sharing a secret moment of love. Kira’s heart flipped in her chest and the gripping fingers expanded to take up her entire line of vision, growing bigger and bigger, or maybe her focus was growing smaller and smaller.
“With a human, want doesn’t matter. They can’t fight the turning. Our bite consumes them. And when the blood exchange occurs, our blood overpowers them. But with a conduit it is different. Their blood boils and burns ours, cursing it from their system before the change can occur. But a willing conduit,” he paused, took a moment to stroke her mother’s palm with his thumb and bring her hand to his lips, “a willing conduit won’t fight our blood. They will welcome it.” Her mother smiled with pink stained lips and Kira’s eyes snapped up to those discolored teeth. The secretive smile she had dreamed of seeing in person was corrupted, stained like her mother’s teeth by blood. It was directed at the wrong man, a killer with brown hair instead of a father with red curls.
“How has this never been discovered before?” Tristan asked. Kira heard the words distantly in her mind.
“How many conduits have fallen in love with a vampire before?”
Tristan leaned back in his chair with thoughts circulating faster than even his quick brain could process. Kira on the other hand was slow and sluggish. Her gaze followed her mother’s, honed in on Aldrich’s open smile. She searched for some break in his calm demeanor, some evil flicker that would let her in on the secret and let her know the game was up. The love in her mother’s eyes couldn’t be real—she couldn’t be looking at this murderer with affection. Kira thought of the holes in the servant’s neck and her absent, haunting stare. How could her mom love a man who could do that? How could she forget about her father? About the man who sacrificed his life to save Kira, who jumped into a pile of vampires to try and save her, who gave up everything he had ever known for an unborn child. How could this woman in front of her have abandoned him for Aldrich?
“These Dawson women,” Aldrich said with a smile before reaching for his glass again.
“She’s not a Dawson,” Kira whispered, surprising even herself. Aldrich’s eyes snapped to her instantly.
“She speaks,” he said mockingly, always acting superior. “What’s that?” With his vampire senses, Kira doubted Aldrich had actually missed her words, but his haughty attitude goaded her and suddenly she was furious.
“I said, she’s not a Dawson.” Kira spoke through clenched lips and her hands began to burn. “My father was a Dawson. I am a Dawson. But she is not.” Kira crossed her arms and hugged her palms to her body to keep her fire from exploding. She didn’t even realize she was shaking.
“That’s no way to speak to your mother,” Aldrich said. Her mother remained silent across the table and looked at Kira with cold blue eyes.
“Is she my mother?” Kira stood quickly, knocking her chair over. The slam of heavy wood against tile reverberated around the dining room, echoing in the silence of the accusation.
“Of course I am, sweetheart,” her mother said and reached out her hand. Kira stepped back.
“The mother I remember fought with her life to protect me. I don’t think she would have been content to wait eighteen years before seeing me again.”
“There were reasons,” she spoke softly, trying to break through Kira’s fury.
“Like what?” Kira spat.
“Like I was a newly born vampire with no control over her senses and you were a child with no idea of her powers,” she replied, still calm and cajoling. Kira sat back down.
Behind her, Tristan pulled Aldrich from the room to give the two women privacy. The doors to the living room were sealed shut and in the small space, Kira had nowhere to look but at her mother, whose soothing voice did nothing but inflate her anger.
“I wanted to find you,
” her mother continued, “but I had to wait until the right moment. We both needed to have control over our bodies. But, you have to know that for eighteen years this moment is all I’ve dreamed of. I’ve wanted to be with you for so long, to hug you and never let you go. I just wanted everything to perfect, can’t you understand that?”
Her mother stopped talking and stared at Kira. But Kira wasn’t really listening. She had always believed that people’s eyes couldn’t lie. They always gave the true emotions away. And her mother’s eyes were blank and unfeeling. And it wasn’t just the dark blue color and the fact that Kira had always pictured them differently. And they weren’t vacant like someone possessed, just indifferent. And it made Kira retreat back into her memories.
One day, months ago after Kira had just discovered the truth about her aunt, Luke asked her why she wasn’t angrier. They were laying next to each other on the grass, breathing heavily and exhausted from training, when he surprised her with the question. At first, she hadn’t known what to say, but after taking a minute to think it over, she realized what it was: her aunt’s eyes.
Kira had wanted to yell at her aunt. Part of her wanted to make her cry and make her hate herself for lying to Kira for so long. She was angry, so angry, that Luke had known more about her past than she did. After their initial talk, she had ignored her aunt mercilessly. She refused to speak to her or even look her in the eye. But after a few days of fuming, Kira was finally ready to talk again. She had thought about the right words over and over again, how she would scream at her aunt for lying and never stop yelling out her anger. So when her uncle and Chloe were gone, Kira cornered her aunt in the kitchen, ready to explode. But when her aunt turned around, Kira finally looked into her eyes and saw all of the pain and self-loathing she was looking for. Her aunt was killing herself with hurt over keeping this secret. And Kira’s anger disappeared. Instead she cried and her aunt rocked her back and forth as though she were a child, and they stayed like that for ages until they were both cried out.
Blaze (Midnight Fire Series) Page 6
