Blaze (Midnight Fire Series)

by Davis, Kaitlyn

  “There’s a beautiful garden outside,” the woman said, her face still plastered with a smile. “Feel free to walk around. Aldrich has a marvelous sculpture collection.”

  “Do you still have that Augustus Saint-Gaudens we stole?” Tristan asked with a smirk.

  Aldrich copied his expression before replying, “Of course.”

  Since when did Tristan treat Aldrich like an old friend? Kira thought. Yesterday he was offering up endless warnings about trusting this man and now he’s reminiscing about days gone by?

  “That’s a funny story. You should tell Kira,” the woman said and Kira noticed that though her eyes were on Tristan, her hand held Aldrich’s.

  “What year was it? 1892?” Tristan asked and Aldrich nodded. Kira couldn’t quite decipher the look in his eye. It seemed almost like satisfaction, like all the pieces of his plan were falling into place. Kira looked away and tuned into Tristan’s story, which was already half-done.

  “So we snuck into his studio, curious about this second Diana statue he was putting together. And we found a third copy that nobody knew about—an even smaller version—and we took it. Saint-Gaudens must have realized, but he never told the papers or the police. Not like we could have been caught anyway.” Tristan finished with a laugh. His eyes were glazed over thinking of the memory.

  Kira couldn’t stand it, the camaraderie with Aldrich. It was too much. Without realizing it, she was standing and all three of them were looking at her.

  “I uh,” Kira fumbled for an excuse, “I need some fresh air. Might as well go see this infamous sculpture for myself.”

  With that, Kira walked out of the room, right out the front door and into the daylight. At the edge of the circular driveway, Kira saw a stone path and decided to follow it.

  The walkway took her around the side of the house to the gardens in the back yard, and Aldrich wasn’t lying, they were impressive. Box-like hedges cut geometric patterns through paths of stone and within the triangles of crisscrossing lines were mounds of colorful flowers. Jutting out from the flowers were sculptures, maybe a dozen of them. Most of them were classical figures cut from white marble, but a few were aged bronze. On the far side, Kira saw the sculpture of a woman balanced on one foot hoisting an arrow, and she realized that must of have been the Diana they were talking about. Kira looked away. She didn’t really want to relive that story time.

  Like the inside of Aldrich’s home, the garden seemed gaudy and too perfect to be really beautiful. Kira preferred wildness, like the rose garden in London—gorgeous chaos. She looked back at the castle behind her. It was masculine, demanding. The stones were rough, some of the lines were uneven and the design wasn’t quite symmetrical. The garden, with its pristine and controlled grace, didn’t fit the building behind it.

  Kira found a bronze bench hidden in the hedges and sat down. She pulled her phone from her pocket and did the only thing she could think of doing in that moment.

  “Luke?” She sent the text message to his phone. She couldn’t call him—not with Tristan so close that he could hear every word they said. It didn’t matter anyway. There was no reply. “I’m sorry.” She sent the message before remembering he had smashed his phone yesterday and probably didn’t have a new one yet. “I miss you.” She sent that last one more for herself.

  “Kira?”

  She turned at the sound of Tristan’s voice and made room for him to sit next to her.

  “Kira, what’s wrong?” He asked and when she opened her mouth to dismiss the notion, he beat her to the punch with an, “and don’t say nothing.” Kira sighed. Maybe this total and complete lie wasn’t worth it. Maybe she could let a few of her doubts show. Surely Aldrich was expecting some resistance.

  “I just don’t understand,” Kira started but then changed her tactics, “I mean, yesterday you were Mr. I Hate Aldrich, Aldrich Is Not To Be Trusted. And now you’re the president of his fan club. At breakfast you were like two frat brothers talking about the good old days. It doesn’t make sense, Tristan.” Kira curled her knees into her chest and hugged her body close.

  “He’s changed, Kira. I don’t know how, but he has.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Kira asked. Tristan’s hands were in his lap and he rested on his forearms. His eyes stared straight ahead, past the garden to the rolling green hills in the distance.

  “Yesterday, when you were talking with your mom, Aldrich and I went to his study to talk. You want to know the first thing he said to me? I’m sorry!” Tristan shook his head in disbelief. “He actually apologized for all of the vile things he made me do when he turned me. He said they were wrong. He said he doesn’t do it anymore.”

  Kira opened her mouth to speak, but Tristan kept talking. “I didn’t believe him either, not at first, but I searched the house. I reached out with my senses, listening for the moan of a girl in pain or the sound of a cell locking shut. I couldn’t hear anything, anywhere.”

  “What about the girls we saw last night?” Kira asked, thinking of their empty stares and scarred necks.

  “Contractual. They give him blood for a period of five years and then he turns them.”

  “Still,” Kira said, looking at him with wide eyes, “you saw their faces.”

  “I agree it’s not ideal,” Tristan said, “but it’s not like it was before. And who knows? With time, maybe he’ll stop using live donors completely. Maybe we can help him.”

  “Tristan, do you even hear yourself right now? This man made you torture people, he made you hate yourself for decades.” Kira stood and started to pace. “All he ever did was use you for his own pleasure. He never cared about you or what you wanted. He’s a killer!” Kira shouted the last part and ran her hands through her hair, practically ripping it out. She needed to calm down. This wasn’t going anywhere and Aldrich could definitely hear everything she was saying.

  “I’ve killed people,” Tristan said softly.

  “Not the same way, Tristan. Not without remorse.”

  “People can change,” he whispered. Kira looked into his wounded eyes and wondered for a moment if he was speaking about Aldrich or himself.

  “They can only change if they were something they never wanted to be in the first place,” Kira told him and sat back down, taking his hand.

  “But what about your mom?” Tristan asked. “If she found a way to love him, can’t you believe there must be something redeemable in him?”

  “Maybe,” Kira said, mostly because she didn’t feel like fighting anymore. Tristan squeezed her hand.

  “He wants to help us, Kira. That’s what he told me last night. The only reason he invited us here was to atone for his sins by helping us be together, forever. He can give us a future.”

  Kira turned to look at him, ready to chide him for being so easily fooled, but the look in his eyes stopped her. It was yearning—pure, unadulterated yearning. He wanted so badly to believe in the dream Aldrich presented—the idea that even the most evil person can change, that in Aldrich all of their prayers were answered and they could stay together. And because he wanted so badly for that impossible future to be true, he couldn’t see any of the flaws in his logic. He couldn’t see past the dream.

  So Kira decided to keep lying, to let him dream for a little while longer, before breaking that hope into a million pieces.

  “I know, Tristan,” she said and wrapped his arms around her, so she leaned against his chest. “I want it too.” She dropped her head on his shoulder. “I just need a little more proof.”

  He tightened his arms around her, hugging her closer to his chest, and they sat like that for a while. Not talking, just enjoying one another’s presence. Kira was grateful for the silence because she honestly didn’t know what to say.

  Which of them was right? Was she just being stubborn because she didn’t want her mother to be a vampire? Or maybe it was something else.

  Part of the reason Kira loved Tristan was because he made her feel so normal, so human. Whenever they were together,
they spoke of everything but the supernatural. He let her live in a fantasy world where conduits and vampires didn’t exist, and they were just two people.

  But if Aldrich was telling the truth, and her mother had turned into a vampire, then everything was different. Suddenly the dreams Tristan spoke of weren’t just a fantasy: they were real. They were achievable.

  And that scared Kira, because the instant a future with Tristan became a reality, she realized she didn’t want it. Being a conduit was not only what she was, but who she was. But did that mean everything she’d ever had with Tristan was a lie, a fantasy she let herself believe because she wasn’t ready to face her destiny as a conduit?

  But out here in the garden, his arms felt so right as they hugged her close. It couldn’t all be imagined—it just couldn’t.

  “You two look precious.” Kira recognized the overly-sugared sweetness of her fake mother’s voice. “Tristan, would you come with me? I want to talk to you about something.”

  He nodded and Kira eased out of his arms, feeling cold in their absence. The bench seemed too big for one, so Kira stood to wander around the garden. A walk was just the thing she needed to clear her head, so she chose a path and continued following it until she reached a statue.

  It was a discus thrower carved in marble and stuck forever in a grimace. His arm reached back, pulled painfully taut in the moment right before he could finally release the throw. Kira looked at his face. Somehow, even though his eyes were made of stone, Kira could tell they held determination and also a slight fear. Fear of losing? Fear of not being the best?

  Kira kept walking, stepping around the statue and taking the next left to another flower patch. This statue was of a dancing woman with her clothes half falling off. Typical, she thought to herself, the boy is playing sports and the girl is frilling around without even noticing that her dress is basically on the floor. Kira distantly wondered if this was the Roman equivalent to thinking that all girls did during sleepovers was have lingerie pillow fights.

  The next statue was different. A man was twisting to look over his shoulder. His hand stretched close to the ground, grasping for empty space. His eyes stared down into the hedges by his feet. In them, Kira saw the look of a man who could see his future disappearing right before his eyes. His features were mid-fall, a strange mix between utter joy and utter despair. His eyebrows were raised, yet poised to turn down. His mouth was open and smiling, but the corners were slanted as if he had just cried out.

  Even his body was fighting against itself. His stance was that of someone ready to pull something close, ready to help a girl stand to her feet. But his outstretched arm pushed the other way, reaching into a void, grasping for something that had disappeared.

  Without realizing it, Kira reached her own hand out. Her fingers inched forward for his open palm, somehow hoping to sooth this miserable creature trapped in rock.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” a voice stopped her an inch from the sculpture. Kira dropped her hand and spun around to face Aldrich.

  “Why not?” She asked and tried to calm her rapid pulse. He had scared her, but that was the last thing Kira wanted him to know.

  “It’s bad luck,” he replied, stepping closer to the statue and to Kira. He reached out his hand, stopping in the same place Kira’s had been the moment before.

  “Why?” She asked, watching him carefully.

  “You don’t know the story?” Aldrich asked. He turned to face her and let his hand drop to his side again. Kira shook her head.

  “Orpheus,” Aldrich began, “was the son of a muse. His voice was bewitching and powerful, and no one could deny the beauty of it. When he played his lyre, no one could resist the gentle lull of his music and no one could resist him. Especially not Eurydice, a local maiden, a beautiful woman, but also an ordinary woman.” Kira heard the slight disgust in his voice at the word ordinary, as if the idea itself insulted him.

  “On their wedding day,” he continued, “Eurydice was so happy that she and her bridesmaids celebrated by dancing to his songs in the meadows beside the ceremony. But happiness is not what this story is about,” Aldrich said. He leaned down and let his hand disappear in the flower around the base. “Hiding in the grasses was a viper, and with one bite,” Aldrich pulled a flower from the ground, ripping it from its roots, “with one bite she was dead.” Aldrich offered Kira the flower, but she didn’t want to touch it. So instead, he closed his palm, crushing the petals. A second later, the crumbled remains were lost to the wind.

  “Orpheus was overcome with grief and he vowed he would not lose his love. So using his music as his weapon, he went into the underworld and convinced the Lord of the Dead to give him back his bride. His music was so sweet, so irresistible, that even death could not deny him. So Eurydice was returned to him, but on one condition. He could not look at her or touch her until they both reached the surface. Orpheus was patient and he walked through the darkness until it started to turn grey, until eventually the sun shined down on him and birds chirped in his ear. He had reached the top. He was free. He turned to reach for his bride, to make sure she was still there. He needed to see her, to pull her close to him, but she was still shrouded in the mists of the underworld. In that instant, he realized his mistake, but it was too late. Orpheus grabbed for Eurydice, but she was already gone, a ghost disappearing into the ground.”

  Kira looked at the sculpture, understanding it now. This man was the definition of lost hope and the artist had perfectly captured the moment someone’s life completely turned on itself.

  “It’s so sad,” Kira mumbled, shaking her head.

  “Is that what you really think?” Aldrich asked. Kira met his eyes and watched him studying her.

  “It’s tragic,” Kira said and stopped herself from continuing. Aldrich narrowed his eyes.

  “And…” He let the thought linger, suspecting Kira had more to say.

  “It’s just, he was an idiot. A complete moron,” Kira sighed, getting frustrated. Aldrich’s eyes lit up, like this was the reaction he had expected. “Who is so stupid? You have your entire future hanging on one idea—do not turn around—and you can’t stop yourself? It’s just, it makes me angry. He not only ditched his happily ever after, he let Eurydice down. He basically killed her.” Kira stopped. She was getting way too impassioned by the story.

  Aldrich laughed and smiled at Kira, as if she had passed one of his tests. “Ah, Kira, you are such a delight.”

  “Why?” Kira eyed him wearily, not sure she really wanted an answer.

  “Because you are the first person I’ve told that story to who has had the same reaction as me,” he said and placed a hand on her shoulder. Kira tried to hide her revulsion, at his touch and his words.

  “I doubt that.” She shrugged free of his hold.

  “It’s true. We are far more similar than you’d like to think.”

  Kira retreated from the statue and started down another pathway. Aldrich followed closely behind.

  “We’re both logical, we don’t let our emotions control us.”

  “That’s not true,” Kira retorted. She couldn’t even count how many times she felt overwhelmed by her feelings, how many times they seemed to stifle her.

  “Isn’t it? In the past few months, your entire world has turned upside down. Yet here you are, fighting. A lesser person would have given up, would have let the heartbreak overwhelm them.”

  “That’s not because I’m ‘logical,’ it’s because I’m too stubborn to lose,” Kira said, glaring at Aldrich over her shoulder.

  “To lose what?”

  “Anything I care about,” Kira replied.

  “But I see you, Kira,” Aldrich said and reached for her hand. He stopped her and forced her to turn around and look at him. “I see the wheels in your head spinning. I see the doubt circling. Dreamers would have already surrendered, would have been satisfied with the idea that all of their hopes could actually come true. But not you. You’re realistic and you need proof. You need the
logic.”

  “Tristan—” Kira started.

  “Tristan is a dreamer. He’s always been ruled by his emotions. It’s why he is easy to predict, but you’re different.”

  “What’s your point, Aldrich?” Kira asked. She was tired of talking in riddles.

  “My point is that you don’t believe me yet. You don’t believe that I’ve changed. You don’t believe my motives are pure, that all I want to do is reunite two star-crossed lovers and make up for the sins of my past. My point is that you are Orpheus. The story is not about a man turning around out of joy, the story is about a man turning around because he couldn’t believe that all of his dreams were about to come true. He needed proof that Eurydice was following him, he needed her touch to confirm she was real. And Kira,” Aldrich looked down at her, his almost black eyes even seemed to warm for a second, “sometimes the dreamers have it right. Sometimes, you can’t have proof. Sometimes, you just need to believe.”

  Aldrich turned on his heel, walking away from her and out of the garden. Kira watched him leave. His movements were confident. Even in the maze of his garden, nothing slipped his control. He thought he had her. He thought he was starting to tame her, to trim her down like the hedges in his perfect garden. And as Kira watched his lean body and sandy brown hair retreat around the bend, Kira couldn’t help but feel defiant. Ever stubborn, Kira couldn’t help but doubt him.

  That little story had done nothing but make Kira more confident that he was hiding something. Tristan was a dreamer and it was one of the reasons Kira loved him. But he had fallen into Aldrich’s trap without even thinking, without even pausing to breathe. His dreams and his love had become a drug that clouded his judgment. And even if it made her cold, Kira couldn’t be the same way. She couldn’t just believe in something when all of the signs were telling her it was a lie.

  Aldrich had it wrong. Kira wasn’t Orpheus—she wasn’t giving all of her dreams up in the search of reality. She already had her proof. The look of hatred in that woman’s eyes was all she needed to see in order to know it wasn’t her mother. Aldrich might not have realized it yet, but his plan had already cracked and Kira had already seen flashes of the truth.