Tired of the slow approach, Kira started to sprint. Her feet pounded against the glass, thundering in the silence of the tunnel—only challenged by the crackle of her fire.
Finally, after two minutes at full speed, Kira saw something ahead—an open door. No, wait, Kira stepped closer. There was no door, just an opening. Beyond it, there seemed to be an open chamber flickering with candlelight.
Kira slowed her pace again. As she neared the opening, her heart stopped.
Kira knew what this was.
It was Aldrich’s dungeon. New. Modern. Clean. But a dungeon nonetheless.
Through the opening, all Kira could see was one rail-thin body curled into a ball on the ground. Kira rushed into the room and the scene became even more gruesome. Five bodies, six glass cells, and not a single ounce of movement from anyone.
“Hello?” Kira asked, hoping someone would give a sign of life. The only reply she received was another moan, quieter this time, from a shape huddled in the corner of the cell on the far left.
Kira rushed over and placed her hand against the glass. A man leaned against the wall of his cell, naked except for a pair of tattered pants. He looked no older than thirty. His red hair was matted with sweat and run through with knots. It was long enough to frame his face and cover his shoulders. His skin was bloodied; bite wounds punctured his chest, his arms, his neck. A shudder ran through Kira.
He moved his eyes, slowly glancing up at her with all of the remaining strength left in his body. A jerk shook his limbs when he saw her face. He pushed his feet, trying to back away from her, but he was already at the farthest corner his square glass cage would allow. But Kira wasn’t paying attention to that—she was distracted by his eyes. They were green in the center, fanning out to an orangey-red flaming hue she was familiar with.
“Are you a Punisher?” Kira asked, placing her other hand against the glass, anticipating his answer.
He nodded, eying her with fear. Her eyes, Kira remembered. They were blue. He must think she was a vampire. Kira searched the glass for a hole or a door, surely there needed to be an entrance somewhere. And then she found a crack in the glass, a small indent that must be the handle to a sliding door. Kira pulled, but the door wouldn’t budge. It was either too heavy or locked in some way she couldn’t detect. But there was a smaller sliding door along the floor, maybe for food. Kira crouched down on her knees, and slid her hand through the opening. She put her palm up and let a small flame hover over her fingers.
The man’s eyes widened slightly. He moved his own hand, but no fire appeared. He winced in pain, and Kira realized he must be too weak to channel his power. Somehow she had to heal him.
“Can you move? Can you come closer?” Kira asked.
“No,” he replied with a raspy voice that came out barely louder than a whisper.
“Stay calm,” Kira said and let her power grow brighter. Kira pushed her flames toward him until the entire cell seemed on fire. When the first tendril touched his skin, Kira felt the blow in her own stomach. He was so weak, so close to death. She couldn’t give him food or water, but as Kira felt along his body with her fire, she realized the obvious problem. His blood was seriously depleted. Concentrating, Kira focused on replenishing his dried veins.
Her fingers tingled with heat as she channeled more power, happy that so far underground, her connection to the sun was still strong, still comforting. And after a few minutes, when the wounds on his chest had sealed without a scar, Kira had done everything she could, so she called her power back into her body. The flames retreated, sinking into her skin, and Kira looked at the stranger again.
He was still thin, still tired and hungry, but color flushed his cheeks and he had regained enough strength to come closer to her. He walked slowly and collapsed into a heap on the floor a few inches from her outstretched hand.
“Thank you,” he said. The words were full of intensity despite his meek and airy voice.
“I’m sorry I don’t have water or food,” Kira told him.
“Who…what are you?” he asked and his eyes found hers. They were slightly widened, as if straining to stay open. He was looking at her almost as though Kira were a vision, something he thought might disappear if he blinked.
She crouched lower down so she could reach further into his cell and cover his hand with her own. It was dirty and still covered in dried blood, but it was solid. More importantly, he knew Kira was solid and not going anywhere.
“I’m a friend, a conduit like you.”
“But you, you healed me. And your eyes…they were glowing blue.”
Kira looked away.
“I’m,” Kira started but she wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m not your normal conduit.”
“For a moment, I thought you were an angel, an ancient warrior called back to save me. An original, from the time of God and Satan and the heavenly battles.”
Kira blinked. What?
“Uh, okay,” she said and patted his hand. Must be some sort of Punisher mumbo-jumbo. “What happened to you?”
“A year ago,” he said, breaking to cough against the scratch in his throat. “A year ago, I was captured. During a raid, I was hit with something. I blacked out and woke up in this cell, weakened with barely any blood in my body. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t call my power. I’ve been stuck here ever since.”
Kira nodded, absorbing the story. He had been down in this cell for an entire year. A year without the sun, without a human touch, without family, without hope.
“Look, I’m going to help everyone else, and then I need to talk to you again. We need to figure out a way to get you all out of here.”
He nodded, still looked at her with an awestruck expression. Kira shook her head and stood up to walk to the next cell. A redheaded woman was lying in this one, not moving, with closed eyes. A coarse cotton gown covered her features. Kira reached out with her power and healed her as best she could.
Kira flexed her fingers. She had hardly used her powers for two weeks, and it felt good to stretch her fire, to finally let it out. Her skin was flushed with the warmth of her own flames, but it was a comforting burn and Kira sighed happily. Almost like an odd sense of déjà vu, Kira got this feeling like she was exactly where she was supposed to be, doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing.
She called her flames back, and the redheaded woman, who seemed to be the same age as the man in the cell next door, blinked with confusion. Kira spoke to her softly, telling her the same things she had told the man before moving on to the next person.
This girl was blonde and looked slightly older, making Kira’s heart catch. But on closer examination of her profile, Kira saw that it was not her mother. Her nose was too pointed, her cheekbones too pronounced, and her shape was just wrong. But instead of fighting another punch of sadness, Kira felt oddly relieved. She was happier her mother was dead. Better that than trapped in this hole, living a fate far worse than even nightmares could produce.
Kira healed the Protector and moved into the next cell, which was occupied by a brunette girl who screamed when she woke encircled by flames. Even before that, Kira could feel she was human. Her fire didn’t sink into this girl’s skin like it did with a conduit. Kira had to force her power into the wounds to seal them shut. The process wasn’t quite natural, but still easy enough to pull off.
In fact, it was a lot more difficult to calm her down than it was to heal her. She was bruised, broken-limbed, but not injured in the same way as the conduits. Her blood was almost all there. Kira realized this girl was probably a plaything to Aldrich, not food. Her dress spoke of the same conclusion. Unlike the dirty brown rags adorning the conduits, this girl was dressed in fine orange silk that cinched around her small waist. Her wrists were circled in gold cuffs—a cross between jewelry and jailing that made Kira cringe. She was Aldrich’s Barbie. He had dressed her up just to break her down, just like Tristan had told Kira.
The conduits had to be kept injured and weak so they couldn’t fight
back. But this girl had been for fun. Kira swallowed the vomit in her throat back down. She had one more person to heal.
The last cell held another girl—clearly, Aldrich had a preference for the female sex. She was stretched out on her side, facing the wall. Full, wavy black hair piled around her head and her grimy dress was too big, covering everything but her white and bony feet. She looked human, but her clothes were just as worn as those of the conduits.
Kira reached out with her fire, slipping it through the hole in the door of the cell in the same way as with the other prisoners. When the flames enshrouded the girl’s body, Kira tried to heal, but she was blocked. The fire wouldn’t sink through her skin, wouldn’t bend between the breaks in her cells, instead it tried to burn through it. Confused, Kira pushed stronger.
Suddenly, the girl’s head spun around and she hissed at Kira. Sharp teeth protruded from her lips and her eyes were white.
Kira stumbled back, falling on the ground with shock. Her flames followed, snapping back into her body like a broken rubber band, stinging her skin slightly.
As soon as her fire vanished from the cell, the girl slumped down lifeless again. Slowly, she sat up, leaning her tired head against the back of her cell. She opened her eyes, now gray-blue like the ocean during a storm—dirty somehow—and examined Kira.
“You shouldn’t have healed them,” she said. Her voice was weak, but still audible and much louder than those of everyone else in these cells. Kira realized that she had been acting, partially, to silently observe Kira. Her skin was ashen and pale, sickly compared to the pristine pearl of every other vampire Kira had ever met. But she had strength, despite the fact that Kira couldn’t heal her.
“Why not?” Kira asked. She crossed her legs, trying to get comfortable. Who knew how long this vampire had been here? She had to have some information that might help Kira.
“Aldrich will know someone has been here,” the vampire said matter-of-factly.
Shoot, Kira thought. How had she not thought of that? But, Kira realized, she would have healed them regardless. She would not have been able to simply walk away from conduits and humans walking such a fine line between life and death.
“When will he be back?” Kira asked. She couldn’t fix the situation, but maybe she could avoid it.
The vampire shrugged. It was such a human gesture that Kira paused and took a second look at the girl. Her features seemed exotic, even without their natural coloring. Something about the arch of her eyes and fullness of her lips reminded Kira of a gypsy. But more so, something about her seemed human, in the same way that something about Tristan had always seemed human. Maybe it was the spark in her eyes, the sense that she would fight for her survival. Regardless, Kira couldn’t fight the feeling that this girl wasn’t her enemy. That maybe she could even be an ally.
As if sensing the flip inside of Kira, the girl narrowed her eyes. “He hasn’t been here for a few weeks, not since he drained a few of those conduits over there for some party. But his servants come in daily to pass around a few meager scraps of food. Not like those duds would notice anything.” She paused, shifting her eyes to scan the faces of the other prisoners. “No, you might be okay. He usually waits for them to heal a little bit more before he comes back. But he’ll notice their scars are gone when he does.”
“I’m hoping he’ll be dead by then,” Kira said.
It was a slight risk to let this vampire in on her plan, but if she was trapped in one of Aldrich’s cages, Kira doubted the girl would tattle. If she felt included, she might be more willing to give up information. Like Kira expected, the vampire raised her eyebrows.
“Do tell,” she said. Her head slid forward slightly, an unconscious movement revealing her interest in Kira’s words.
“Tell me what happened to you first,” Kira said. “Why are you trapped down here? What did you do to him?”
The girl laughed. It was a shallow, bitter sound. “The question isn’t what I did to him, but what I didn’t do.”
Kira waited for the girl to continue.
After a few seconds, the girl sighed and relaxed against the wall. “What do you know about vampires?”
“A good amount,” Kira said, keeping thoughts of Tristan from leaving her lips.
“So you know about our powers? Well, some of our powers?”
Kira nodded.
“I happen to have a very valuable one. I pull people’s memories into my own head. I can’t just go in at any time and sift through someone’s mind. But if I’m touching them, I can draw the images out like a movie and then play them in someone else’s mind.”
“Show me,” Kira said.
“What’s in it for me?” she asked. “I don’t exactly have tons of energy to just go wasting on you.” Her body slackened to prove the point.
Hesitant, Kira held up her wrist. “Blood.”
The girl responded by licking her lips and sitting up a little taller. The eyes of the other conduits were on Kira questioningly, accusing her. She had a feeling she was breaking a cardinal rule—never willingly give a vampire blood. But information was more important than following the rules.
Kira pushed her fingernail deep into her wrist, biting her lip at the pain. After a few seconds, her skin gave way and a bright pool gathered around her finger. She reached her arm through the hole at the bottom of the cell, letting her blood drop onto the floor.
The vampire started forward but Kira jerked her hand back. “Wait,” she said. Giving up blood was one thing, letting somebody bite her was totally different and not happening anytime soon.
After a minute, Kira lit an internal flame, bringing the fire to her blood long enough to close the wound. She sat back down, waiting as the girl slid across the floor to drink.
The ashen gray retreated from the vampire’s features and a luminescent glow sprouted on her cheeks. The smoke left her eyes, leaving a glossy royal blue hue behind. The curls in her hair tightened into coils and a flush colored her lips.
She reached her hand back, beckoning Kira. “I won’t bite,” she said with a smirk. Kira tentatively stretched her fingers out until she was holding the girls hand.
Suddenly, her mind was taken over by darkness. Rich swirling hues buzzed in front of her eyelids, covering the glass cells, until they merged into an image—a fire.
A large, sparking fire surrounded by people in bright clothes and linen-covered wagons. Drums were beating in her ears, and the crowd was swaying in unison to the sound. They started clapping, softly at first, until the noise became as loud as thunder. People were calling out, laughing and yelping, until a hush spread around the fire and a dancing figure jumped into the middle of the circle. Her red pants were wide and billowing in the slight breeze. Her shirt sparkled with gold medallions and a sliver of her stomach was revealed underneath the loose top. She paused, brought her hands up over her head, clanking two small symbols together and surveying the crowd, waiting for their voices to rise again and goad her into a dance. Her eyes met Kira’s, and though a bright piercing emerald, Kira recognized them as belonging to the vampire girl.
Kira looked away from the stare, and at the other end of the fire was a man with jet-black hair, who, for a split second, reminded her of Tristan.
“My, my, you are a bit of a rebel aren’t you,” the female vampire said. Kira snapped her hand back and let the vision disappear.
“What do you mean?”
“Who’s the guy?” She raised her eyebrows, challenging Kira.
“No one.”
“You seemed pretty hot and heavy—”
“You were just supposed to show me your power!”
The girl shrugged. “No harm done and now that memory, that steamy little gem, is all in here,” she said and tapped her skull. “Pretty handy, at least that’s what Aldrich thinks.”
“How long have you been in here?” Kira asked, sinking back in her seat to keep as far away from the cell as possible. No way was that girl touching her again.
“M
aybe twenty-five years. Such a drag after a couple hundred years of absolute freedom. But Aldrich knows I’d run if he ever let me out.” She blew a curl from her forehead.
“So why not do what he says?”
“I’d rather be prisoner than a slave,” the girl said quietly. Kira saw her fists clench. After a second, her fingers relaxed and she turned to Kira. “Your turn to share. Why are you here? Last time I checked, Aldrich didn’t really keep conduits as houseguests. But you’re special, aren’t you?”
“I’m a half breed conduit,” Kira said. She didn’t look around at the shocked faces of the Punishers and the Protector in the cells around her. The vampire looked unimpressed.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said and rolled her eyes. “One look at your hair, your eyes, and your healing, and that was obvious. I want to know what that means. What is so damn special about that, other than the dual immunity, which you can clearly see Aldrich doesn’t need.”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Kira muttered, annoyed.
“I might have an idea,” a scratchy voice said from behind her. Both Kira and the vampire girl turned to look at the Punisher man who Kira had first helped when she walked into the dungeon. He was leaning against the front of his cell carefully watching both of them.
“No one really knows how vampires and conduits came to be,” he said. His voice grew quieter and quieter the more he spoke. The lack of water and energy was clearly affecting him. “Protectors will tell you it was nothing more than a virus, a scientific abnormality—not that they can prove it. But Punishers, we believe something different. Something a little more divine.” He coughed, cutting off his story. Kira stepped over to his cell and let her hand warm his, infusing his body with a little more energy.
“What do you believe?” Kira asked, intrigued on multiple levels. Luke never shared Punisher beliefs with her. He thought they were nothing better than legend. But wasn’t history like that sometimes?
The Complete Midnight Fire Series Page 50