“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 toward 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 backward and pummeling her into the wall. Her thighbones crunched as they snapped and a wail unexpectedly broke free 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 at 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 everything 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 her fake mother’s hair singed, 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 wished 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 toward 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 crackling 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 does hurt, Kira thought as she listened to screams sounding in her ear.
But does 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 inward, letting them burn her blood, letting the fire scorch her back to life, back to sanity. She healed her cuts, scrapes, 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.
With nothing else to look at, Kira stared back at the burnt vampire curled in on itself against the floor.
A fist closed around her heart, squeezing her chest tightly, painfully.
She couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t mean…
She would never…
And then, slowly, one charred eyelid slid open, revealing a midnight blue twinkling eye that Kira would recognize anywhere.
She screamed.
Chapter Sixteen
“Tristan!” Kira shrieked again. She pulled on her hair, begging for the pain to wake her up from this horrible nightmare. This couldn’t be happening. Kira wouldn’t accept it.
She had killed Tristan. He was dying, burning, because of her fire.
“Kira.” Luke gripped her shoulder, trying to comfort her.
Kira shirked his hold.
“What have I done?” she asked herself, Luke, no one. “What have I done?” Kira whimpered.
“Kira, you have to end it,” Luke said softly. Kira looked away from the mass of flesh Tristan had turned into. She couldn’t bear to look at his blackened, scarred, burnt skin any longer.
“What?” Kira asked Luke, scanning his face for some other meaning in his words.
“Tristan—he’s in pain. You have to end it,” Luke said. His eyes were concerned, warm, trying to give her strength but also lost.
“I have to save him,” Kira said, shaking her head at Luke’s words. “I have to help him.”
“You can’t,” Luke urged.
“I have to,” Kira whispered and turned away from Luke. She crawled over the floor until her skin was close enough to feel the heat emanating from Tristan’s body.
In some places his skin looked like melted rubber, bright red and stretched, bubbling with blisters. In other places, it was dark and charred, flaking into ash, already disintegrating. His knees curled into his torso like a child’s, his arms were glued to his side, melted against the abs Kira had loved to touch. His fingers, his beautiful artistic fingers that Kira had previously seen blackened with charcoal, were now blackened by her fire. They had blown up to twice their size, swelling with blood that was just about to break free of his skin.
Biting her lip to keep from screaming, Kira finally looked up at his face. Wet tears fell down her cheeks, landing on his skin and instantly fizzling dry.
Aside from the one eye still looking at her, pleading with her, his face was unrecognizable. Gone was the black hair she always ran her fingers through, the long strands that fell over his forehead when he was really concentrating. His scalp was bald, an ugly harsh red mixed with black, like a cooling lava field. His ears were melted flat. His soft lips that Kira could kiss for hours were gone.
Kira looked into his open eye again.
Luke was right.
Tristan was in pain. He was begging for release, and Kira couldn’t do anything to save him. She could only end it, end the hurt.
Kira took a deep, unsteady bre
ath and brought a small flame to her palm. She put her hand over the center of his chest, knowing it would be the fastest way to end it.
Slowly, while his body jerked in pain, Kira sunk the flame into his heart, expecting it to already be black and broken.
But, unlike his skin, his heart was whole and healthy. It was red, pumping, full-of-life. It looked almost human, except for a shell of hard, black metal around it, sealing it off, protecting it.
Kira burned the shield, melting the black away.
And suddenly an idea came to her. What if she could push the darkness from his flesh? What if she could save him? Kira had protected herself, had managed to push the vampire out of her.
Kira changed her flames, letting her Protector fire flow freely around Tristan’s heart. She could almost feel his soul hiding within its walls, something white and pure, silvery and straining to be free. It hadn’t been burned. Only his body, and Kira knew she could fix that.
She encased his heart in her fire, protecting it from the dark shell it had been trapped in for more than one hundred and fifty years. And then she continued to burn Tristan, focusing on the darkness woven through his body. Slowly, methodically, Kira pushed her powers on, revealing pink flesh as the sticky, evil tar inside of him was melted away.
The further she moved, the more Kira expanded her protection, healing his wounds, healing the burns she had raised on his skin.
She kept her eyes sealed shut, too afraid that all of this was only in her mind, too afraid that in reality she would wake to a pile of ash and not a human, not Tristan. Could she be imagining her powers? Could she have gone crazy enough to live a dream?
Her flames slid up to his face, into his brain, restoring old nerves that had grown weak. Until finally, it was only the flesh of his face that needed to be healed, and she did so patiently, envisioning the curve of his nose, his striking hooded eyes, his soft almost pouted lips, the dimple that buried above his mouth when he smiled.
Kira brought her hands to his cheeks. Was the soft flesh she felt real? Could Tristan possibly be alive?
After a second, Kira felt warmth under her hands, felt blood pump through the cheeks below her fingers. A gasp filled her ears, the sound of a drowning man finally brought back to life.
The Complete Midnight Fire Series Page 58