Blaze (Midnight Fire Series)

by Davis, Kaitlyn

  “But you did it, you sucked the last breaths from her body,” Kira said. Her voice was scratchy and soft.

  “I did, and I can’t say it was just the hunger, even to ease your pain. I’m a vampire. It’s what we do,” Pavia said. Her voice held no remorse. The words were matter-of-fact.

  “And the woman?” Kira asked. She still hadn’t moved. Her body was contorted in the ground in the same way that she had fallen out of Pavia’s memories. In an odd way, she probably looked like her mother, minutes before death.

  “A weak vampire with the unique power to change her features—otherwise known as Aldrich’s plaything.” Disgust rang heavy in Pavia’s voice.

  “Why didn’t you show me yesterday?” Kira asked, finally pushing her heavy body from the floor to sit up. Her head pounded as though stepped on.

  Pavia shrugged. “Yesterday, you had nothing to offer me. Today you have food and freedom—everything an imprisoned girl dreams of.” She smirked. “And you grew on me, what can I say?”

  “I wish the feeling were mutual,” Kira snorted, waiting for her headache to subside.

  “Eh, I can tell that you don’t really blame me for what happened. You know, just as well as I do, who the real culprit is.”

  After a second of thought, Kira tossed the other bag of blood through the opening of the cell and ignored the stares of the conduits and the human behind her. She ignored their protesting voices too. Pavia had earned her payment.

  “Do you still have my mother’s memories?” Kira asked. Pavia looked away, towards the two emptied bags of blood at her feet. Kira had nothing else to offer her.

  “Do you still have time?” Now Kira looked away, down at her watch. Ever elusive, time was yet again slipping away from her. But she was so close to her mother, so close to knowing what kind of woman she was.

  “Can’t you just transfer them to me? Like you were doing with Aldrich?”

  “It doesn’t work that way with humans,” Pavia said, and this time Kira knew she sensed a bit of regret in her words. “You have to live the memories, experience them in real time. Your bodies aren’t strong enough.”

  Kira looked at her watch again. A few minutes and her hour would be up. But if she didn’t do this now, who knew if she would ever find Pavia again?

  Kira reached her hand under the cell and put all of her faith in Tristan’s ability to hold Aldrich at bay just a while longer. “Show me one memory,” Kira whispered, “the happiest one you can think of.”

  Pavia nodded and gently brushed her fingers over Kira’s hand. Maybe because Kira knew she was going somewhere she was welcome, but the process didn’t feel like falling this time. As soon as Pavia’s skin touched Kira’s, her vision disappeared, and Kira felt as though she were flying. Her direction was clear. The colors swooshing by were comforting and not scary. When she sunk into someone else’s conscious, Kira felt a warmth settle over her mind. This person was familiar—her mind worked like Kira’s and accepted Kira instantly. Kira fell softly into her mother’s memories…

  When Kira opened her eyes, she was looking into a roaring fire. Natural flames burned in a hearth, dispersing a comforting smoky smell throughout a small living room. She was rocking back and forth, pushing her feet melodically against the ground to keep the baby girl asleep in her arms from waking up.

  She looked down at her daughter, at the mass of hair already sprouting wildly from her tiny head. Definitely from her father. But those big eyes, now shut in slumber though normally wide and curious, were all hers.

  The baby shifted in Kira’s arms and her pudgy lips opened with a yawn before easing contentedly shut again. Her fingers, barely the size of a doll’s, were wrapped around a strand of Kira’s blonde hair, tugging it gently. But she didn’t mind the dull pain—it reminded her that the bundle in her arms was real, and not just a dream.

  A door behind her opened, letting a rush of cool air in as heavy boots stomped against the floor.

  “Sh!” Kira sighed with an amused shake of her head. Her husband Andrew was many things, but quiet was not one of them.

  “Is the baby asleep?” He asked, peeking into the peripheral of her vision.

  “For now,” she whispered and watched him shrug off his heavy winter jacket to reveal a strong frame, one she knew would always keep their family safe. In the soft orange light of the fire, the grooves etched into his forehead seemed deeper. Barely in his mid-twenties and her husband already showed the stress of age. She ached to run her fingers over those lines, smoothing them out, ridding his face of worry just for one night.

  As if sensing her thoughts, the baby stirred, reaching towards her father even in sleep. A barely visible string of light shot from her outstretched palm, hitting his chest. Even though her powers were weak, his features softened.

  “Looks like Kira wants her daddy,” she whispered.

  “Like mother like daughter.”

  He smirked and walked closer to her. She rolled her eyes as he approached, but stood and carefully transferred the sleeping girl into her husband’s waiting arms. He sat by the fire, laying back, and placed their daughter on the flat expanse of his chest.

  She sank to the floor, curling into a ball against his side, putting an arm around both him and their daughter.

  “How did things go?” She asked quietly. Her husband reached his hand up and ran it soothingly along her arm as he kissed her forehead.

  “Not tonight,” he told her and looked at the little girl clutching at the folds of his shirt. He sighed. “She’s going to be beautiful, just like her mother.”

  “And a handful, just like her father,” she teased.

  “Remind me to buy a shotgun when Kira turns thirteen,” he mumbled as his eyes draped further and further shut. She let the mix of his breath and the cackling fire lull her to sleep, and kept her fingers on the small of her baby’s back, letting her breath mirror the rise and fall of her little girl’s body…

  When Kira opened her eyes, she was back in her own skin, in the starkly lit dungeon that shocked her eyes, which had become attuned to the gentle firelight. Pavia’s hand slid from hers and Kira ached to clutch it, to never let it go. She didn’t care about Aldrich’s plan or saving the world. She wanted to be back in the warmth of that small cabin, basking in the love so clearly trapped within its walls.

  “Please,” Kira softly begged. “Just one more.” She shuffled her outstretched hand, looking through watery eyes for the pale shape of Pavia’s hand. But Pavia leaned away from Kira and sank back into her cell. “I’ll get you blood…I’ll give you mine,” Kira said and started to pierce her own skin like some sort of junkie.

  “Kira,” a woman’s voice said. It wasn’t Pavia, who was still mute and staring at Kira with a confused expression. It was one of the female conduits. “You have a job to do.”

  “I don’t care,” Kira whispered. She had given up Tristan to follow through with this plan, but giving up her parents, the opportunity to know them—Kira couldn’t do that.

  “Yes you do,” Pavia said, turning her glance on Kira, confusion gone. “How about a deal?” She shrugged, embracing the care-free attitude again.

  Kira nodded. Anything, she almost said, but stopped when she realized how desperate it sounded.

  “You get me out of here alive,” Pavia said, “and I’ll find you and I’ll show you whatever memories you want to see. You get me out of here alive and free, and I promise it won’t be the last you see of me.”

  Kira tried to focus on Pavia. She had made the mistake of trusting the words of another female vampire, a moment of weakness that had led her on a wild goose-chase that nearly cost Kira her life, not to mention Luke and Tristan’s. Diana had tricked Kira, giving her the words she most ached to hear, but despite herself, Kira nodded to Pavia.

  “Deal,” Kira said. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, but saying it out loud gave her a quick sense of freedom. She wasn’t turning her back on her parents, she was trying to be the daughter they hoped she would be—
the one who would fight, who wouldn’t let ancient myths seal her fate. The one who wanted to prove everyone wrong.

  Kira took a deep breath, swallowing her emotions back down, before she turned a cold stare to Pavia. She could feel her eyes burning. “If you’re lying, I’ll hunt you down. There’s nowhere you can go that I wouldn’t find you.”

  “Now that is a threat I believe,” Pavia said, leaning back with a grin. “I’m not in the habit of being indebted to people. You get me out and I’ll keep my promise. After all, I’m immortal. Time doesn’t matter a whole lot to me.”

  Kira looked down at her watch. All of her time had already run out and with one last glance at Pavia, she took off at a run, zooming down empty corridors. Tristan and Aldrich were still nowhere to be seen, but Kira didn’t come across her fake-mother either. The absence put an extra ounce of energy into her steps.

  Kira had waited too long. Her carefully thought out plan was unraveling before her eyes and it was all her fault.

  Self-directed anger pushed her on, until Kira found herself skidding to a halt before the door. Her only way out. But it would be a blind exit. Aldrich could be waiting—fangs at the ready.

  Kira clenched her fists and took a deep breath to force the nerves out of her system. Raising her palm, flames burst from her skin, sizzling against the black backdrop of the secret corridor.

  After one final pause, she twisted the handle and opened the door.

  Empty.

  A river of tension flooded from her system and Kira snapped her flames back, pulling them securely underneath her skin.

  Everything was fine.

  “Kira?”

  She jumped, slamming the door shut behind her as her heart leapt into her throat.

  Her fake-mother rounded the corner and her eyes narrowed as she sensed Kira’s racing pulse.

  “Is everything okay?” She asked, caught between her normal fake-concern and suspicion. Her eyes shifted around the room, looking for something that seemed out of place.

  “You scared me!” Kira laughed and put a hand to her throat, swallowing loudly.

  “I didn’t hear you…” She looked around again.

  Kira walked swiftly to the counter and picked up her phone, shaking it in the vampire’s direction.

  “Must have been my music,” Kira shrugged and scooped some oatmeal into her mouth. “Just a dash of cinnamon and it’ll finally be done!” In reality, it tasted like mush in her mouth—totally overcooked. But, lucky for Kira, a three-hundred year old vampire didn’t know what good oatmeal looked like.

  “Come upstairs when you’re finished. We have a lot to do before the ceremony.” She ran her gaze around the room one final time, sniffing the air quietly, before turning around with a satisfied nod.

  As soon as she left, Kira collapsed against the counter. Her hands were shaking. She swallowed, gulping the air in to stop the panic spreading from nerve to nerve, zinging down her arms.

  There was nothing left for her to do now. No fight, no mission, no truth to uncover. The plan was going perfectly and all she had to do was play along.

  But already, Kira could feel the ghost of a prick along her neck. Aldrich’s fangs were there, haunting her, poised to bite.

  And against all her instincts, Kira would have to do the hardest thing she had ever done: stay still—stay still and let him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kira hardly recognized her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was piled high in a bun on top of her head and a few stray curls fell elegantly over her forehead. Her skin was pale, lightened with fine powder. Her lips a deep red, slicked with rouge. Her blue eyes looked like great lakes in the middle of her face: they were so infinite and expansive. Her angular cheekbones arched gracefully up, defined by a few swishes of pink blush.

  Kira smiled, almost surprised to see the girl in the mirror copy the movement exactly. But she kept the smile plastered on those foreign features as thin hands continued to coil her hair, continued to run lovingly through the curls.

  Kira closed her eyes and pretended those hands belonged to the real thing. That her mother was standing behind her, lacing her fingers through Kira’s messy tangles to tame them into something poised, something worthy of display—that the hands tickling her scalp were the same ones that had soothed her to sleep years ago.

  “All done.” Those hands patted her shoulders softly—a signal that Kira should open her eyes. But as soon as she did, Kira would remember that the woman behind her was fake, a mere chard of the memory playing in her mind.

  Instead, she leaned her head against the woman’s forearm and sighed contentedly. Kira wasn’t ready for her fantasy to end.

  Almost taken aback by the intimate contact, the vampire behind her took a step away, reacting against Kira’s touch.

  “I’ll go get Tristan,” she said softly, covering up her own mistake. When the door slipped open, Kira let her eyes follow suit. They found their way past her reflection to the red dress draped across the bed. The silk rippled over the sides of the mattress, turning to different hues as the candlelight bounced off of the fabric.

  Her dying dress.

  At least, that was how Kira thought of it.

  “Hi,” Tristan said quietly after closing the door behind him. They were in the female vampire’s room, an unexpected gift from Aldrich. Kira hadn’t dared hope for a few minutes alone with Tristan before the ceremony and she was thankful for it. The room was soundproof. For the first time in hours—hours that felt more like weeks—Kira could speak plainly and honestly with Tristan. And he with her.

  “Hi,” she said, spinning in her chair, unsure of herself.

  “You look…” He trailed off as he walked closer to her.

  “Like a vampire?” Kira supplied. That had been her first thought.

  “Yeah.” The hint of sadness in his voice was undeniable.

  “It’s only makeup,” Kira said, resisting the urge to wipe it off with her wrist.

  “I’m not sure if that makes me happy or sad.”

  Kira turned towards the bed, searching for an escape from his analytic gaze. “Will you help me with this?” She asked and started to untie the knot holding her robe in place. She had her underwear on, but Kira still kept her back to Tristan. Maybe it was an unwritten rule of breaking up, but she suddenly felt self-conscious in front of him, in a way she never had before.

  With her robe around her shoulders, Kira pooled the dress on the floor and stepped into it. She brought the smooth material all the way up around her waist before letting her robe drop, leaving only the arc of her back exposed. Tristan’s cool fingers brushed her skin gently as they fiddled with the zipper. For a moment, Kira felt him stop moving. His thumb brushed down her spine, sending a shiver to the tips of her fingers. His breath kissed her neck, letting Kira know his lips were tantalizingly close to her skin. She closed her eyes, ready to lean back, but Kira felt the dress cinch tightly shut as Tristan sealed the zipper. Kira waited for it, but his fingers didn’t touch her bare flesh again.

  Instead of missing caresses that didn’t belong to her anymore, Kira looked into the mirror at the other side of the room, wondering if Aldrich was watching them. Would even these few minutes of peace need to be a show?

  The dress was stunning, Kira thought as she studied her reflection, but no matter how beautiful it didn’t match her. She looked like some sort of Grecian temptress in the deep ruby gown. Fabric bunched above her right shoulder, falling gracefully in tight pleats to her waist before cascading loosely to the ground. The skin on her left side was bare, open and waiting for Aldrich’s bite. Even though the one-shoulder dress covered her body, Kira felt exposed.

  The only thing giving her comfort was the chain hanging around her neck. Kira raised her hand, clasping her father’s ring and Luke’s charm within her palm. Somehow, they would keep her safe.

  As if sensing her thoughts, Tristan stepped in front of her, blocking the mirror from view.

  “Do you think he’s watchi
ng?” Kira asked.

  “Probably,” Tristan shrugged. He circled her waist with his hands, drawing her closer. Kira slipped her arms over his shoulders, completing the embrace. Was this for them or for Aldrich?

  “Do you hate me?” Kira whispered. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “No,” he said.

  “Do you love me?” She studied the opening of his shirt. The fancy cream buttons almost blended with his skin. His smooth chest rose in a deep breath, and his Adam’s apple rolled out as he swallowed.

  “Kira…” He sounded lost, like a little boy.

  “It’s okay,” she said, looking up into his deep blue eyes, “I just asked because I want you to know that for me, that answer will always be yes. Part of me will always love you, and even if that’s the only forever we have, I think it was worth it. All of it.”

  He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, but he didn’t speak. His sigh thickened the air around them, rolling down her body like a wave.

  “Will I ever see you again?” She asked. He shook his head, but Kira couldn’t accept the silent message he was sending her. She pulled back, willing him to answer her with words, no matter how hard they were to say out loud.

  “I’m leaving,” he said, looking past her face to the wall over her shoulder. “After all of this is over, I’m going to walk away and try my best not to look back.”

  Kira bit her lip to keep a murmur of protest from bubbling out. Instead, she simply said, “I don’t want you to just disappear.”

  “You made your choice, please don’t take away mine.” His lips brushed her ear while he spoke, making it hard for her to concentrate.

  “What do you mean?” Kira tried to lean back, to look into his eyes, but Tristan held her firmly against his chest.

  “Don’t ask me to stay.”

  “But—”

  “Kira,” he interrupted, stopping her protest. “You chose being a conduit. I can’t change being a vampire. It’s better for both of us to end it here, now. But when you tell me you love me, that you will always love me, I can’t even breathe for the thought of losing you. Let me be strong for once. Just let me walk away.”