Then hands were shaking her shoulders, bouncing her from side to side, and jerking her neck painfully. She fell back against the table again and a heavy body fell on top of her. It was trembling. Slowly, muffled sobs broke through her ears.
“Kira!” A deep voice cried. She recognized Tristan’s agonized scream. She wanted to comfort him, to calm him, but her limbs still felt like jelly.
The pressure lifted and she heard the accusation. “What did you do?” Tristan hissed.
“I turned her,” came the calm reply. “I did exactly what I said I’d do.”
“But it’s impossible,” Tristan said. Kira, feeling more and more like herself with each passing second, began to wonder what she had missed. She was eager to join the fight, but too interested to see what information Aldrich would give up while he thought she was still under the thrall of the change.
“Not impossible.” Kira could envision him shrugging in her head. He was only too happy to have the power.
“Conduits can’t change,” Tristan told him firmly.
“No they can’t,” he said gently, “but Kira is so much more than a conduit.” She felt fingers brush her hair from her forehead. “And soon, she will be so much more than even that.”
“What do you mean?” Tristan asked, his voice more curious than angry, almost hopeful as if something he had stopped dreaming might still somehow come true.
“It is a common misconception that the mix of each conduit breed results in a mixed-breed, a half-blood if you will. But they’re all wrong, Tristan. It’s the conduits that are less, that are divided. Kira is pure. She is the joining of two halves. Two conduits do not make a mixed-breed, Tristan, they make an angel. An original.”
“An angel?” Tristan asked. His voice was distant, disbelieving. Kira felt his cool hand cup her cheek. Behind closed eyes, Kira could imagine his face peering down at her, roving over the curves of her face.
“Yes, an angel. And angels can do what conduits can’t,” Aldrich paused and Kira felt a tug on one of her curls, “they can fall. And when angels fall, there is no one on this earth who can stop them.”
Kira let those words sink into her still recovering mind. The Punisher had been right. She was falling, becoming an unstoppable evil, something no conduit could burn and no vampire could bite.
“What will happen when she wakes up?” Tristan asked softly. The glimmer of hope behind those words was unmistakable, and Kira felt anger boil in the pit of her stomach at Tristan’s response.
“She won’t,” the female vampire said from across the room. Kira wondered if she still looked like her mother. If when she opened her eyes, there finally would be a stranger in front of her, a stranger she would be happy to kill.
“But—”
“Oh she will wake, Tristan, but she won’t be the Kira you remember,” the woman continued. Her tone was spiteful, nasty. Her eyes flashed in Kira’s mind, deep and full of loathing. “If the turning goes the way we hope, her soul will be broken and she will emerge as a wild, uncontrolled beast.”
“Kira would never let that happen,” Tristan said, completely confident.
“She won’t have a choice,” Aldrich said calmly, “the change will drive her to insanity. When she wakes only one thing will consume her thoughts: blood. And not just any blood—conduit blood. Kira will be our reckoning.”
A rage-filled growl broke through the room. A huge crash sounded next to Kira’s ear and she heard Aldrich chuckle softly. By her feet, Kira heard Tristan curse at him and yell again.
She flexed her finger, testing part of her body to make sure it responded the way she wanted. Her finger obeyed, moving the precise way Kira had ordered it to. And she was about to jump and show Aldrich he had been wrong, ready to kill him and any knowledge he had in his small head, but something else broke through her consciousness before she could order her feet to stand.
A sense of conviction and honor pulsed into her head. Hot pride and perfectly simmering love punctured the veins around her scalp, and words started whispering inside her mind.
“I’m coming, Kira. I’m coming. Just keep holding on. I swear, we’ll be there soon. Just keep fighting. For you. For me. Keep fighting.” And the encouragement continued in an endless tirade that puffed her chest with hope.
Luke.
He was close, nearly here and projecting his thoughts to give her the strength he somehow knew she would need. The same golden warmth she had felt during their kiss began to spread from her heart, fixing her bruised soul.
Keep fighting, he whispered over and over in her head. Kira knew to listen.
“We have company,” the woman said and Kira snapped back to her surroundings, letting a sense of Luke continue to funnel through her body while she turned her direct attention back to the words being thrown around above her head.
“I hear them,” Aldrich said roughly. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, Tristan. I really didn’t think you would betray me.”
“What do you know about betrayal?” Tristan cut. His voice was laced with pain, and Kira screamed against her instinct to open her eyes and save him from whatever trouble he was in.
“More than you will ever know.”
And the front door banged open and heavy boots came storming in, pounding against the marble floors.
“Kira!” She heard the yell in her mind, her heart and her ears. Luke was here. Finally, Kira let herself move as her lips tugged into a slight smile. “Kira!” His next yell was strangled, filled with hatred and fear.
And Kira finally realized what she must look like, fallen and unmoving on the slab of table like a fresh kill ready to be eaten. Could he tell that her dress was red and not blood stained? Was it both?
Kira turned her head towards the sound of Luke’s voice, blinking her eyes to get adjusted. His golden head came into focus first, alight from the candles in the room. Relief flashed across his features when their eyes met, but it was short lived as the doors crashed together, sealing the dining room off from the intruding conduits. Luke pounded his fists against the wood to no avail.
In one fluid movement, Kira slid from the table and jumped to her feet, bringing flames to her hands and preparing to fight.
The instant Aldrich’s gaze landed on the fire dancing between her fingers, his mask fell. Gone was the confident bravado, the sophisticated arrogance. His eyes immediately turned into ebony pools, slick like the oil Kira had felt in her veins. His fangs popped out, still stained slightly red with her blood. Like an animal ready to pounce, his posture fell to a crouch and his head sunk lower so he looked hungrily at her under hooded brows.
And suddenly the table slammed into her legs, dragging Kira backwards and pummeling her into the wall. She felt the crunch of her thighbones as they snapped and a wail broke from her mouth unexpectedly from the pain. Tristan’s voiced screamed too, and Kira looked over to see him stuck against the wall, pinned by antlers sinking through his flesh into the hard plaster behind him.
Using her powers, Kira forced her bones back together, dulling the pain and reattaching muscles torn to shreds in Aldrich’s rage. He saw what she was doing and pushed the table against her harder, so even her power couldn’t totally heal the indigo bruises lining her skin.
“Stop!” Kira gasped, reaching for some tool to use against him. She stuck out her hand, aiming towards the woman, and released her powers without looking to see if the face of her mother was still plastered dishonestly on the vampire’s skin.
Immediately, Kira felt the familiar feel of a vampire bubbling beneath the onslaught of her strength. She forced the candles around the room to bend to her will and the fires burned brighter all around her, almost setting the room ablaze.
“I will kill her if you don’t let us go.”
“Be my guest,” Aldrich hissed and slowly continued to push the table into her legs as the chandelier above their heads began to jingle.
Aldrich was immune and Kira would have to break through that, so she forced out ever
ything she could, sending fire out through her palms, her hands and the skin all the way up to her elbows.
Kira could feel the strong barrier drinking her blood had placed around Aldrich, and her power rolled off him, practically bouncing from his skin. She was half-protector and half-punisher so he was immune to both of her flames, but Kira knew she could break through. She just needed time. The other vampire, however, was a different story. She had never tasted Kira’s blood and Kira felt her fake mother’s hair singe, burning off. Her skin flaked, made crispy by Kira’s power.
Soon enough, she was just a pile of ash dusting the petals along the ground. And Kira felt no remorse at killing this vampire who had mocked her mother and tried to fool her. Part of her just hoped the vampire had looked different, like anyone other than her mother, who Kira had already seen die far too often in her dreams.
Aldrich didn’t even pause to give the woman, his supposed wife, a second look. Instead, he managed to pull the chandelier loose of its hold and Kira looked up just in time to see it flying towards her face. Her hands rose instinctively as she shut her eyes, but the hit never came.
Tristan, using Aldrich’s diverted attention to its best use, had managed to free himself of the antlers just in time to leap and catch the chandelier in midair. Using all of his strength, he threw the iron fixture back at Aldrich. Like a bullet, it sped blurrily through the air only to crash to the floor as Aldrich focused his attention on his own life.
How much could he control before his powers weakened? Kira asked herself, begging for some sign that they stood a chance.
A loud bang sounded from behind the door as something large slammed into it, breaking the hinges so Aldrich’s power was the only thing keeping them secluded in the dining room.
Something rammed into the door again, pounding against it, almost splintering the wood. Aldrich looked over, concentrating on the door, and Kira took the chance to continue bombarding him with her fire—all of it Punisher and meant to kill.
An antler rose from the floor, whipping around and cutting into her arm, twirling Kira to the side so her powers slid off of Aldrich. Healing the bruise quickly, Kira continued breaking through the hold of his immunity. She was close. She felt the ripple in the imaginary cover, the slight warping of the glass case around his body. It was about to break apart into a million pieces.
A spike broke off from the chandelier, an iron pole aimed at her heart. Tristan jumped through her flames, letting out a yell as the heat scorched his flesh, but he had saved her.
“Tristan,” Kira called out, easing up on her powers just a little bit.
“Don’t stop,” he screamed over the cackling roar of her fire.
But Aldrich saw the moment of weakness and sent more pieces flying toward her head. Tristan deftly jumped, staying cautious of her fire but not completely clear of it, to catch the items and keep Kira safe.
And she was almost there. Kira could feel Aldrich’s protection thinning, like saran wrap about to reach its breaking point. One more push and there would be a hole.
Aldrich looked up. He felt it too. His features were slightly nervous.
Kira smiled.
And then the table lifted off the ground, smashing Tristan, pinning him, squishing him against the wall.
Kira ran to help, but candles bombarded her, pelting her skin like baseballs, leaving welts she could barely heal fast enough to stay on her feet. She pulled her flames back, forcing them underneath her skin to protect her body from Aldrich’s merciless pursuit.
She yanked on the table leg, trying to free Tristan but it wouldn’t budge.
A set of antlers flew at her face, and Kira jumped to the ground, but not soon enough. One branch pierced her calf, breaking through flesh and lodging itself against her bone. Kira cried out and tried to yank the antler free, but it was like iron clamped to her leg. Holding back tears, Kira let out a scream—of pain and frustration.
From the other side of the door, Luke’s muffled voice called out. His warmth surged through her, but it wasn’t enough to keep the pain at bay.
The pounding on the entry began anew, and for one split second, when the door burst fully open exposing the conduits behind it, Kira met Luke’s warm honey green eyes. And that was enough to keep her pushing on.
Aldrich forced the door closed again and the wood protested, splintering along its joints. With Aldrich turned away from Tristan, the table fell back to the ground. The second he was free, Tristan disappeared, running quickly across the room to latch Aldrich’s arms behind his back. With one twist, he snapped his neck, knocking Aldrich out, and all the floating objects in the room dropped to the ground.
“Now Kira!” Tristan yelled, looking pointedly at Aldrich. Kira shook her head.
“Step back!”
“I can’t. He’ll wake up at any moment.” Tristan looked at her sadly, almost as if he had accepted this as the end. “Do it.”
Closing her eyes, Kira let her fire free and felt her flames engulf Aldrich, licking Tristan’s skin as well.
She knew exactly when Aldrich woke up. She felt his neck snap back into place, felt his power immediately surge to keep the other conduits out, but they were already inside. The table flew across the room again, barreling into all of them, slamming into the entry like a substitute door, but this wouldn’t last nearly as long.
And Aldrich knew that. Because he knew his time was almost up.
Just like that, the immunity shattered around him and Kira’s flames were sinking into his flesh, burning his skin and melting the black oil that slithered through his veins. She hated this man and finally he would die.
Kira crept closer, forgetting about Tristan’s proximity, forgetting about everything except Aldrich and everything he had taken away from her. A father. A mother. Her childhood. Her future. Everything.
And Kira realized she wanted more than death for him. For someone truly evil, death was not enough. She let her flames sear his skin enough to hurt, enough to cause him pain, enough to prolong the process. And part of her enjoyed hearing his screams. Part of her wanted him to beg for his life.
With those thoughts, a little black sliver of tar Kira hadn’t managed to dislodge from her heart roared to life. She knew what she wanted—his blood.
Kira wanted to suck the life from his veins, to feed for the first time.
But no, she fought against it, letting her fire surge forward again. That was the last thing she needed. The last thing she wanted.
Or was it? The blood would be warm, it would boil through her heart, adding to her power, making her strong enough to kill him and make it hurt.
But it did hurt, Kira thought as she listened to screams sounding in her ear.
But did it hurt enough? An ugly voice rearing to life inside her mind questioned.
Kira licked her lips, lowering her hands just a smidge. Her tongue traveled over her teeth. They drew blood. Her own blood—warm and tasting like fresh embers.
No.
No. No. No.
Kira’s real voice screamed in her head, pushing the blackness back once more as she fell to the ground clutching her scalp in her hands. What was happening to her?
Kira focused her flames inwards, letting them burn her blood, letting the fire scorch her back to life, back to sanity. She healed her cuts, scraped and wounds, blaming blood loss for her mental break. But the little black patch over her heart wouldn’t go away. It retreated, creeping back into the little crevice it had hidden in before, but Kira felt it staining her soul, waiting for the opportune moment to sneak up on her again.
“Kira!”
Someone was screaming into her brain. Someone was shaking her. Hands gripped her arms, but the pain was welcome and it brought Kira out of herself.
Her vision came back, spotty at first, until a blonde head broke through the blur.
“Luke,” she said lazily with a smile, as though she were waking up from a dream. But his face was filled with horror as he glanced at Kira, over her shoulder, and
back to her.
Kira tried to sit up, but her vision fell away again, forcing her back to the floor.
“Luke. What’s wrong?” Kira asked, watching his mouth open into a gape and his eyes widen, shocked. But he wouldn’t speak. His eyes kept traveling back and forth, until Kira could no longer endure it.
She leaned her head back, peering over her shoulder, expecting to see the pile of ash that should be Aldrich’s dead body.
Instead, there was something inhuman, a mound of charred flesh, burned black and flaky but not yet dead. Limbs curled in on themselves and Kira sat up, ready to finish the job.
“It’s okay,” Kira told Luke, “He won’t be able to heal himself anyway.” She brought a flame to her hand, looking at the steaming body behind her. Even vampires didn’t deserve to die that way.
But before she could move her flames even a centimeter closer, Luke yanked on her arm, jerking her flames to the side.
“Kira!” He gasped. She looked at him confused. Suddenly wondering where Tristan was. Had he already left without saying goodbye? Did he already disappear from her life and walk away like he said he would? Was he just gone?
But, Kira sat up, he wouldn’t just leave without knowing she was safe. Not after all of this. So Kira looked around the room, at the nervous and scared faces of the conduits around her. Why were they all looking at her so strangely?
She lifted her hands to her mouth, feeling for fangs. Were her canines slightly longer and sharper than before? They felt almost normal…almost.
“Luke, what’s going on? Where’s Tristan?” Her voice rose an octave as nerves took over.
“Kira,” he said hesitantly—gently—placing a hand on her arm, “that is Tristan.”
Kira followed his eyes disbelieving back to the pile of burning flesh behind her, still looking for Tristan beneath the broken remnants of the room. Wax had melted all along the floor and the wooden table was a pile of simmering embers, barely tall enough to hide a mouse. The flower petals had already turned to dust.
Blaze (Midnight Fire Series) Page 19
