Kira ran again, because it all came crashing down, every minute she had dreamed of her parents, of their lives together, of the memories hidden deep within her own head. All of it landed on her in a tidal wave of momentum pushing her feet forward, until it was too much, and she tripped and fell right before the front doorway.
"Kira, wait!"
But she couldn't.
Jumping to her feet, Kira lunged up the steps, taking two at a time until her fingertips were wrapped around a rusty doorknob.
Taking a deep breath, Kira closed her eyes, keeping them tightly shut in fear that it was all just a dream.
She twisted.
The door swung open, creaking on unused hinges.
She was trembling. What if she opened her eyes and nothing was there but more disappointment, more confusion? What if…
Enough. Her eyelids slid open.
There was dust everywhere—a thick gray layer covering the wooden floor, the holey rug, the single chair laying on its side. Windows were broken. The roof was caving inwards, dented from a fallen tree still leaning on the house. Vines of ivy and little shrubs broke through the wood in various spots, turning the space into an indoor garden.
But Kira didn't see any of that.
Kira saw a living room and a kitchen and the door to a tiny bedroom. She saw her father sitting on a couch, her mother rocking her in a chair, flames glowing in the fireplace.
Walking forward, Kira put her hand on the rocker. The wood was smooth under the dust now staining her fingertips. Kira pulled, bringing the seat back to its feet, and sat. Mud already caked her shoes—the dust clinging to her pants didn't matter.
Pushing lightly against her toes, Kira closed her eyes and let the world shift around her, undulating softly while the wooden floor squeaked in protest. And with one long breath, Kira felt phantom arms encircle her body, giving her the hug she had dreamed of. They were thin, fragile, but still strong. The arms of a fighter and a mother all in one.
Lips pressed softly against her hairline, lovingly, like a father might do to wish his daughter goodnight if he thought she were asleep. A large hand landed softly on her shoulder, squeezing gently, comforting her, lending her strength.
Kira pulled on the chain around her neck, feeling blindly for the locket, slipping her finger through her father's wedding ring.
Love will prevail.
She had never forgotten those words. And in this moment, Kira understood why. Even though they were gone, even though this house was one step away from ruin, even though Kira didn't really remember them, she could feel their love. Her every breath was full of it. Her chest was heavy but the air was light, playful, happy, endless.
Footsteps thudded behind her.
Kira's eyes flew open. She jumped out of the rocker, throwing her gaze toward the front door.
It was Luke…only Luke.
Disappointment stabbed at her. Stupid, she chided, of course it was Luke. But the little girl inside of her—the vulnerable, parent-less child—heard other feet, wished for different times.
Her aunt followed behind him, and in this place, it seemed right to call her an aunt and not a mother, even if it wasn't fair. And Kira knew it wasn't.
Kira swallowed deeply, dropping her locket back under her shirt. She tasted salt on her lips and wiped her cheeks clean, erasing the girl and bringing the half-breed conduit back to life. They were here to do a job.
"Kira, you have to be careful," her aunt said softly, frozen in the doorway, seemingly stuck in place, "the house isn't stable."
"We don't have to stay long," Kira said. Her voice was cold, empty. The only way to get through the aching loss that seemed to choke her was to smother it under a blanket of ice. "Let's start searching for anything that might be useful."
Luke frowned at her tone, but nodded and stepped farther into the tiny house.
"It looks like someone might have been here a long time ago, like maybe they looted the place," he said while he surveyed the space. Kira followed his line of vision to the lack of furniture, the lack of any personal items.
"Mom, keep watch. Luke, look around in here," she had to get away from the fireplace, from her mother's memories, "I'll go into the other room."
Without waiting for a response, Kira shuffled through the door and into the next room. A broken bed frame lay crumpled in the middle of the floor. The mattress was long gone.
A dresser was pulled apart right next to the entry. Kira hesitated a centimeter from the unstained wooden knobs, before clutching them and pulling the drawer fully out. Empty. She closed it, fighting against the imperfectly cut wood, wondering distantly if her father had built it.
The next drawer was empty too. Kira jammed it shut, ignoring the sound of slamming wood. One drawer left.
She yanked on it, but it only came out halfway. Excited, Kira pulled harder, falling back on the floor when the door suddenly sprung free and slipped completely out of the dresser, landing with a smack at her feet.
Empty except for a piece of shredded cloth.
Kira started to curse, but paused and reached for the sliver. It was silk, maybe four inches wide and ten inches long, with small, multicolored flowers printed against a black backdrop. Kira rubbed the smooth cloth between her fingers, pressing it lightly to her cheek, wondering what it might have been—an old blouse? A scarf that got ripped while a robber hastily tried to pull it free of the drawer?
Kira tucked the scrap in her pocket, standing slowly back to her feet. She still had a job to do, but the only other piece of furniture in the room was a small nightstand, both levels of which were completely bare.
She and Luke had been naïve to think the cabin would have gone untouched all of these years. It was idiotic really, to think that the cabin would stay a secret forever. Maybe hungry campers had happened upon the spot, used the food, realized the place was abandoned, and taken the clothes. Maybe they reported it to some official who came and cleared the space out, selling everything in a big yard sale, making money for the local government. What if strangers had poured over their items? Over her parents priceless items? Kira would have given her life savings for just one photo, one book that held their fingerprints, one necklace that told their story…
Someone out there could be wearing her mother's shoes, or her father's coat—could be sitting on their couch or eating with their silverware.
The injustice hit Kira like a wave, surging through her entire body, swelling to a breaking point. She needed the release, she needed to explode, but even in this sacred place, the taint of her flames hit her.
The anger bubbled up, but Kira was afraid to let it out the way her heart told her to. Her palms burned, but the shadows were there too, lurking, and no one would be around to stop her this time. Even now, Kira sensed Luke in the other room, and more faintly her mother—the scent of their blood getting stronger as her powers gathered inside of her.
So she did the only thing she could think of…she kicked the bed really really hard, yelling as the pain hit her toe, sending a flash up her spine. But in an odd way it felt good, it felt better than anger, so Kira kicked again, just to feel connected to the real world. And she kicked again…and again…crying and screaming now…and again, until the post broke in half and the entire frame crashed to the floor with a loud thud.
"Kira," Luke said, hesitant and unsure. He touched her arm, barely brushed her skin with his fingers, but Kira spun into the hug he was offering, crushing her face into his warm chest, letting his body catch the sobs, and using his shirt to muffle the sounds she didn’t really understand were coming from her body.
He ran his fingers through her hair, somehow managing to navigate her curls so the strokes were smooth, calm, reassuring. He lightly kneaded her back, making the tension in her body ease away. And he sent his light into her body, both physically and through their connection, encasing her in a shell of warmth, in a circle of fire that felt almost like hers, except for its purity.
After a few minutes, Ki
ra stepped away from him, sniffling, afraid to meet his eyes. But Luke knew her well enough to let her retreat and regain her composure.
"Did you?"
Luke shook his head.
"Me neither."
Kira sighed. Her toe ached. They had nothing.
"You did a pretty thorough job of killing the evil bed frame though."
A smile tugged at Kira's lip.
"Demon Witch. Flaming Tomato. Feared by bed posts everywhere."
The grin pulled wider. Luke poked her, prodding another wide stretch.
Kira looked at him, meeting his smiling, twinkling eyes. "Thanks." And then she looked away, toward the post, now broken in half on the ground. "I didn't know I was that strong."
"Eh, old wood." Luke shrugged.
"But it's a little strange, right?" Kira said, an idea sparking. She stepped closer, looking at the bottom of the broken post. A circle. There was a circle cut into the wood. "Luke!" She gasped, reaching for the piece of broken wood. Her fingers fit perfectly into the opening, and there, Kira felt something smooth. Could it possibly be?
Yes, it was paper.
Kira tried to grip it, sliding the pages against the rough wood. She slammed the post against her palm, until she felt the paper tap her skin. A bundle fell into her hand.
Kira unrolled it. Handwriting. Scrawls of pen spanned the pages. She flipped to the next and there were more of them.
"We found it," Kira said in disbelief. Was it too much to hope? "We found it!" She said again, more excited.
Luke gripped her upper arms, his face a sea of changing expressions, finally settling on adoration. "You found it, Kira! You—"
Unable to speak anymore, Luke pulled her toward him, landing his lips on hers because there was nothing else he could do. Speech had escaped him.
Kira started laughing against his lips, a joyous sound, the sound of possibility, of her future somehow open again. Almost like he expected it, Luke simultaneously joined her—a deep tenor to her soprano, the perfect song.
They pressed their foreheads together, sighing in unison to catch their breath, pausing for a moment to look at eternity in each other's eyes—
A scream pierced through the cabin. A scream Kira had heard before.
Her mother, her adoptive mother. The sound came from outside, traveling through a broken window and into her ears. She dropped the papers.
Fire tickled her palms.
Kira raced past Luke, out the front door, as he scrambled to pick up the discarded research and catch up.
Somehow, vampires had managed to find them.
And knowing there would somehow be a cure, Kira didn’t really feel the need to slow the flames bursting from her palms.
Chapter Eleven
Dead.
They were all dead the second that Kira stepped out of that door. It was just that none of them knew it yet.
The flames traveling down her arms were all Punisher, were all meant to kill, and Kira just didn’t care anymore. She felt the smoke, the black fog drifting in wispy tendrils around her fire. The darkness was there, lurking. The vampire dormant inside of her was looking for a way to take over. But there was a cure. And there were vampires outside who needed to die, not just be forced away by Luke's Protector powers.
When she stepped through the door, Kira barely registered the vampire clutching her mother's head, bending it to the side to reveal a pearly, untouched throat. She didn't count the number of eyes watching, there were too many to take in. All she did was let it out—all of her power—something she hadn’t allowed herself to do in what seemed like forever.
Before the vampires knew Kira was there, they were burning in her powers, melting into ash, until all that was left had disappeared into the wind. But there were more. Kira could feel them, could almost see their glowing eyes in the shadows.
Luke rushed out behind her, surveying the damage she had already dealt.
"Kira—"
"Get my mom and keep her safe."
He hesitated for a second before nodding and jumping down the steps. He helped her mother stand and brought her closer to the house, until his back touched the wood.
Kira's eyes didn't stop scanning the trees. She trusted Luke, trusted him to keep her mother alive. He wouldn't let her down, so Kira would do her part to keep them all alive.
To her left a vampire jumped out. Kira's hand flew on its own, casting flames so fast that the vampire evaporated before her feet even touched the ground.
On her right, another one. Kira shot out again, controlling her fire the best she could. Back to her left she saw movement.
"Above you!" She heard Luke's voice shouting into her head before the words could even form on his lips. Kira looked up just in time to see the vampire jump from the roof. She dove, rolling to the side, aiming her fire. Bull's-eye.
A sickening crunch hit her ears, and Kira turned to see the broken legs of the vampire she had scorched just enough to hurt. Its bones jutted out through charred skin. But still the vamp was clawing through the ground, trying to bite her. Reaching out, Kira finished the job.
There was a pause and Kira's heart fell as she realized what it meant. They were strategizing. Using her mother had failed, attacking from opposite directions seemed futile, and they needed a new game plan.
"Come on!" She yelled. They couldn't stop. She couldn't stop. Already with the pause, Kira became aware of the black tar inching down her veins, leaking from her heart, trying to infiltrate.
She called her flames, circling her heart in Protector powers, trying to fight it off, but the evilness was eating through her defenses. Instead of sensing vampires in the trees, the sweet smell of blood was starting to call out to her. The vampire inside of her was awakening. Her fire was being forced out, was blowing from her fingers at a rapid pace while inside a shadow took its place in her core, trying to block out the sun. Kira pushed against it, calling on her powers, using every bit of will she had not to fall.
But she did fall.
Her knees buckled and she gripped her chest, grasping for the sun with her bare hands. The outside world was slipping away.
But Luke. Her mother. They needed her.
Kira collapsed on her side, keeling over as the internal battle intensified. She didn't see the flames encircling her body, the fire surrounding her entire being. She felt it pulse, felt it melting the tar, turning it to slick oil. Kira pushed harder.
Flames tore free of her skin, escaping into the trees, doing the fighting for Kira. Every few seconds, when her body had had too much, another explosion ripped away, shooting into the world around her. But for the first time, Kira felt like maybe she was running out. Like the cloud was getting thicker, hiding more and more of the sun. Her endless reserves were emptying with each surge that wracked her body.
And then another fire joined hers, flames that were purer, were protecting her—were fighting the darkness for her. And they were winning. They were pushing it back. They were untainted.
They were Luke's.
"Kira, Kira, Kira," she heard. Her senses were returning.
Fingers covered hers, pushing against her heart, forging their own pathway through. Luke. He was saving her. He was fighting the battle she didn’t know how to win.
"Luke," she blinked, fighting the desire to reach up and bite his skin, to sink her teeth through his flesh and taste, and taste…
But it was Luke. Her best friend. Her protector. Her rock. Not her food. No matter how good he smelled.
And the thought was so absurd, that the Kira still conscious, still fighting, gave up and started laughing instead.
"Kira?"
But she couldn’t stop, the giggles wove their way around her limbs, shaking her just enough to dislodge the black oil Luke's flames couldn't find, just enough to make it break apart and disappear.
"Okay, you're really freaking me out. We have to go."
Kira blinked again, making out his face against the blue sky, against the red flames silhouetting
his features. His eyes were bulging, afraid, desperate. His skin was covered in ash, speckled with black smudges. And then another smell sifted through her nostrils. Smoke. And a heck of a lot of it.
Kira stopped laughing and sat up, slightly dizzy but almost like herself.
The trees were burning.
Kira spun, looking for her mom, who was standing above her holding her hand over her mouth, trapping the sobs that Kira hadn’t heard before. And it hit her that the fear in her mother's eyes wasn't from the vampires, it was from her, for her.
Unable to process anymore, Kira looked behind her mother to the house. It was on fire. It was cackling, burning. The dried wood had already turned black, charring in the heat, and gray flames billowed into the sky.
Her house. Her home.
Kira stood up, running toward the door. There were so many things she hadn't looked at. What if she and Luke had missed something? What if there were more clues, more trinkets left behind, waiting for her to find them?
Luke caught her around the waist.
"Kira, we have to go! We have to get out of here."
"But, the house, I have to—"
"There's nothing you can do," he said, speaking urgently, trying not to yell, "I have the research, we have to go."
"But—"
Kira was silenced by a loud boom that shook the earth beneath their feet. The tree, the one resting on her house, had fallen through, splitting it down the middle.
It was gone.
A pile of rubble.
Kira screamed, but didn’t protest when Luke tugged on her hand, running toward a spot in the woods that hadn't caught fire yet.
"Where do we go?" He yelled over the sound of more branches falling to the ground. Her mother had come alive.
"Follow me," she called back to him, pushing through the forest, trying to beat the fire that was hot on their tails.
And hot, oh man was it hot. Hot enough to burn, even if they were conduits. The smolder on her backside was immense, like a furnace had opened behind her. The sting of the heat was unlike anything Kira had felt, but she wondered if maybe if was hurting her more than the others, scorching her in a way it didn’t with them.
Scorch (Midnight Fire Series) Page 12