The Complete Midnight Fire Series

by Kaitlyn Davis

  Pavia pulled back.

  "Are you serious?"

  "What's going on?" Tristan asked meekly.

  "Kira here, the same Kira who promised to turn me and about a dozen other scary vampires into humans, is turning into a freaking original vampire!"

  Oh right, Kira swallowed, she had momentarily forgotten about that promise.

  "It's okay, I'll be able to turn you," she said, trying to calm Pavia down.

  "Oh really? You could barely even make out with Blondie over here before going psycho conduit."

  "She'll be able to do it," Luke pressed, "but we need your help."

  "Well, what else is new?"

  "If you want to be human, I'll make it happen, I promise," Kira said, leaning in toward the currently freaking out vampire.

  "How?"

  "We think there might be a cure," Luke said.

  "You think?"

  "This is where we need your help." Kira sighed. "I need to cash in on those memories." A little twinge of pain zapped her chest. She had been hoping for more memories of her parents, but not like this. She had wanted to enjoy them, to get to know her family, not rush through with an ulterior motive.

  "What do you need to see?"

  "My father was a Punisher. We think maybe he always knew this might happen, that maybe he knew something." Kira paused, licking her suddenly dry lips. "Can you see if my mom ever talked to him about it?"

  "That's not a very strong lead," Pavia said, doubtful.

  "Please." Luke lifted his head, looking at the vampire—a hint of desperation edged into his words, a slightly lost look leaked into his fiery eyes. "Please, it's all we have."

  Pavia met his look, hesitating, before releasing a huge exhale and shaking her head. "Jeez, when did I become such a softie? I need my vampire mojo back."

  "So you'll help?" Kira asked.

  She blew her ebony bangs from her forehead. "Yes, I'll help. But you better be able to turn me human when all of this is over, because this whole compassionate thing doesn’t work so well in my world."

  "Done," Kira said, pursing her lips to keep from grinning like a little girl. She flicked her eyes to Luke, who was already staring at her, beaming like the sun itself. Warmth flowed through the bond, sinking into her limbs, filling her with hope. It wasn't over, not yet.

  "You two are sickening," Pavia said while standing up. "Give me a minute to see if I can find anything."

  Kira nodded absently, not breaking contact with Luke. Why hadn't she told him earlier? Of course he would know what to do. He had this way of solving all of her problems.

  "Kira?" a soft voice asked.

  Tristan, Kira thought, crap. She had totally forgotten he was there. How horrible was she?

  "I'm sorry." She looked at him, reading the confused wrinkles in his face, the slight squint to his warm, questioning brown eyes. "God, we should have explained this to you before we told Pavia anything. It's just…"

  What could she say? It's just that he didn't understand anymore? It's just that he didn't belong in this world anymore? It's just that she didn’t know how to talk to him anymore?

  "I don't want you to worry about me." Kira settled on that. "You have enough on your plate already."

  "Worrying about you feels sort of natural," he said, the hint of a smile on his lips. Kira rolled her eyes. That was so…Tristan. But it was nice at the same time, nostalgic almost.

  "You don’t have to." She squeezed the hand next to hers on the couch. "I have this odd feeling that maybe everything will work out." She flicked her eyes to Luke quickly. "For all three of us."

  Kira glanced at Pavia, still pacing behind the couch. Maybe it would work out for all four of them, if Kira could keep it together long enough.

  Pavia stopped walking.

  "I might have found something—"

  "What?" Kira interrupted, her eagerness getting the best of her.

  Pavia gave her a pointed look—it seemed to say please shut up. "Am I showing both of you or just Kira?"

  "Me."

  "Both of us."

  Luke and Kira spoke at the same time.

  Pavia glanced at her, smirking. Whoops, Kira thought and coughed. "Uh, both of us."

  "Let's do this, then."

  Kira nodded and so did Luke. Tristan picked his book up again, and though it hurt Kira not to include him, this wasn't his life anymore. Or she hoped it soon wouldn't be.

  Pavia scooted her chair over and put her hands out. Locking eyes, Kira and Luke reached out at the same time, completing the bond.

  And like the last time Kira had connected with her mother's memories, instead of falling, it was as though she were floating, drifting calmly down like a feather in a spring breeze. It was a gentle process. The thoughts welcomed her, sensed that she was family, that maybe she was meant to be there.

  Rainbows danced before her, blurring Luke's living room and kaleidoscoping her vision. Cool and warm colors mixed together with no rhyme or reason, twisting and turning through a slowly moving prism, until slowly the blue drifted to the peripheral, disappearing entirely. The greens faded next, leaking slowly from Kira's vision. The reds and oranges softened to a dark umber, and the purples shifted to an ebony black. The yellow stayed bright and vibrant, flickering before her almost like a…and suddenly Kira was there, visiting her mother in the only way she ever would…

  Fire, it always came down to fire. The fire sparking in the hearth of their small concealed cabin, the flames just minutes ago dancing on her palm, or the ones she knew were hiding inside of the little baby girl asleep on her chest. Everything in her world always seemed to come down to fire.

  Three days—her world had changed exponentially in such a short amount of time. But she was home, because their little cabin in the woods finally felt like a home to her now that her newly born daughter was there, resting on her chest, making this whole life seem real for the first time.

  "Lana?"

  "Shh," she called softly to her husband, Andrew, "I think she might be asleep." Her daughter's tiny little eyes were closed. Her almost impossibly small hand had loosened its hold and was now resting softly on her mother's chest, right next to her heart.

  Three days ago, this baby was inside of her. But now she was here, breathing, smiling, squirming. It was all real—all of those dreams.

  Andrew footsteps thudded against the wooden floors of their small home. Even in socks, her husband wasn't great at being quiet. But the thought triggered a different memory, of the first time they met, causing a little grin to crease her lips.

  He sat down next to her on the couch, dipping the cushion with his added weight. Their baby stirred, shifting slightly in her mother's arms before stilling once more.

  Deep grooves cut into Andrew's forehead, making him look older than the young man she had married just a few months before. Then again, life had moved along very quickly for the two of them, faster than was really fair, but she wouldn’t change a thing.

  She shifted slightly, making sure not to distress the baby, and leaned into his solid chest.

  "No change?" he whispered. She shook her head. No change—their baby still didn't show signs of having powers, no fire spilled from her adorable little fingers. But she sensed that it was only a matter of time, that their daughter was stronger than either of them realized.

  "Good." He sighed. A little prick of pain pinched her chest to hear him say it. "Everything will be easier this way, we won't have to hide."

  No, she thought, we won't have to hide from our people, but if our daughter doesn’t have powers, won't we have to hide from her? She would rather run from the conduits for the rest of her life than hide their heritage from the little girl sleeping in her arms. Maybe it was a mother's dream, but she didn’t want secrets to stain their family.

  But wait.

  What was that?

  She looked down. Almost as if summoned by her thoughts, a soft glow surrounded her little girl's palm.

  "Andrew?" she whispered, not look
ing away. Was she seeing things? But no, she felt it, felt the heat from the palm on her chest, small as it was, the flames were strong as they sank into her heart. "Andrew," she said more urgently, waking him from whatever thoughts tugged at his mind.

  "What?"

  "Look."

  She shifted the baby ever so slightly, but enough that a sliver of fire broke free, rising up, crackling in the still air rather than sinking into her skin. The baby shifted back, sealing the gap again, but not before she heard a gasp.

  Excited, she looked up, but her heart immediately sank.

  Her husband's eyes were full of dread, widening with a fear she didn’t understand. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He just stared at the baby in her arms, until a tremble stirred his hands.

  "Andrew?" She didn’t understand. Why wasn't he happy? "What is it?"

  "Nothing." He shook his head, shaking whatever had been gathering in his mind. "Nothing."

  She didn’t believe him. He was hiding something from her.

  "What is it?"

  "Nothing, just a stupid, nothing. Let me hold her," he said and reached his hands out, easily holding their daughter as they made the transfer. As soon as their little girl was in his arms, his body slackened. The tension in his limbs fell away, and a wide grin spread across his cheeks.

  "She's strong," he said, moving so the fire warmed his heart as well.

  "I knew she would be."

  "Me too," he said, but somehow the words were tainted.

  Stop, she told herself. Nothing would ruin this moment, this moment when everything she had dreamed of for the past few months had become real. They were a family—a real, united, unbreakable family.

  Kira blinked and she was back. A chill shivered up her limbs from the lack of fire. The room was cold, or maybe it was just the absence digging at her heart. Once again, they were gone, pulled away from her, dead—it was like losing her parents all over again. Her mother's mind was a warm blanket, making her feel safe and loved, but it had been ripped away.

  Another chill crept down her spine.

  She wanted to feel the warmth again.

  Kira looked up, meeting Pavia's concerned eyes, but looked away. She knew what those eyes were saying, what memory they were referencing. The last time Kira had shared her mother's thoughts, she had begged Pavia to see them again, even offered her own blood in exchange for another memory. But England was another time, that castle had made her feel so alone. Here, now, the warm palm on her knee was keeping her grounded. Or really, the man it was connected to.

  Kira followed the line, running right into Luke's flaming irises, and they were enough to spark her back to life.

  "My father knew something."

  "I think so too," Luke said, squeezing her leg gently.

  "Pavia, is there anything else?"

  The vampire shook her head. "I was looking quickly, but that was the most obvious thing I saw. He was definitely afraid of something, thinking of something he didn’t want your mom to know about, but I don’t know what that is. There were a few more memories of him leaving the cabin, going to meet with the conduits, and coming back frustrated. But nothing specific. I'm sorry."

  "But Kira," Luke urged, seeing her shoulders slump, "it’s a start."

  But the start of what? If he had truly found some answers, would he have told her mother? Would he have said something?

  Kira stood and started pacing. Something about moving her legs made the wheels in her drained mind spin.

  If the answers weren't in Pavia's mind, where would they be? Think, Kira, think. Would her adoptive mother know something? Would her brother have confided in his sister? But no, she would have mentioned something—"hey my daughter might at some point turn into a deadly vampire" wasn't exactly the kind of conversation anyone would forget.

  But if he was concerned and he did think that might happen, wouldn’t he have looked for answers? Kira was stubborn, and considering her parents had gotten married, run away from home, and had a practically illegal child, she had a pretty strong feeling they were as well. So if he thought this might happen, he would have looked for answers. Kira knew he would have.

  "Research," she said, stopping in her tracks to clutch the back of the couch.

  "Of course," Luke said, looking up from behind his clenched fingers.

  "Huh?" Pavia said, eyebrow raised in question.

  "It's so obvious! He was doing research. He never met with the conduits. My mother, or I mean my aunt, she told me ages ago that once they ran away, my parents had stopped talking to everyone, even her. So if he was leaving, he wasn't going to talk to the council, he was doing research."

  "And if he was researching…" Luke stood too, his excitement mounting with Kira's. "He has to have notes somewhere. Probably hidden from your mom, since he clearly wanted to keep her out of it."

  "But where?" Kira asked.

  "Kira." Luke looked at her, widening his eyes as the idea in his mind grew. "The cabin."

  "The cabin!" she gasped.

  "The cabin?" Pavia interjected. "The one from your mom's memories? It's been eighteen years since they died, that place is long gone."

  "You don’t know that," Kira said, grinning so much her cheeks hurt. "It was in a hidden location. Even if looters saw it or someone else lives there now, he could have hidden papers under the floorboards or in a trapped enclosure or something. We have to—"

  "I know," Luke said.

  "But wh—"

  "Tomorrow."

  "With—"

  "We need your mom."

  Kira pulled the phone from her pocket, dialed her mother's phone number, and started pacing again. Her arms tingled with excitement—a new energy, a hopeful energy, was buzzing all around her insides.

  "Hello?"

  "Mom!" Kira shouted, and then winced. "Sorry, sorry."

  "It's okay! Are you all right? Things have been crazy around here. The councils, the Punishers, I have so much to tell you. They—"

  "Mom, Mom, hold on, let me go first." Her mother stayed silent, so Kira plowed on. "The cabin, the one where my birth parents lived, do you know how to find it? Do you think it's still there?"

  "Maybe, but it's been a while, honey, I doubt it's even there anymore. Andrew, he wasn't exactly a master builder, and I only went once. I always meant to go back, to get their things, but there was never any time."

  "We're going," Kira said, "and before you start arguing, it's really, really important. And if I tell you why, you're just going to freak, so it would be much easier if you just told us where to go and met us at the airport."

  "That's not exactly how the whole parent child thing works," her mother drawled. "Tell me what's going on, and I mean right now, or Kira, you will finally get all of the punishments you've been earning these last few months. And I mean it, no money, no cars, no cooking school, no—"

  "Mom, I'm turning into a vampire."

  There was a long pause. If not for the steady breathing, Kira would have thought her mother had hung up. She felt a little guilty for just throwing it all out there, but really, the motherly rant had been fast approaching—dire measures needed to be taken.

  "Kira, you," she started but then stopped.

  After a minute, Kira asked, "Mom?"

  "You just, you can't just say something like that and expect me to be okay."

  Kira rolled her eyes. "I don't expect you to be okay, in fact I expect you to be so concerned that you'll jump on a plane and meet me wherever we need to go." She smiled sweetly out of habit, almost as though her mother could see her.

  A heavy sigh came through the line.

  "You're as infuriating as my brother," she said, and then, "Meet me at the Greenbrier Valley Airport in West Virginia, do you have that? Greenbrier Valley?"

  "Got it, I'll let you know as soon as Luke and I have flights."

  "Kira?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I love you, but really, when all of this is done, you're grounded."

  "Okay
, Mom." Kira rolled her eyes. Her adoptive parents had never been great at punishing her. Maybe because until this year she had never really needed to be punished, having been in boarding school.

  "Don't you roll your eyes at me." What the? Kira thought, how does she know? "I'm your mother, I know you. And I mean it. When all of this is over, vampires are going to be the least of your worries."

  "Okay, Mom," she repeated in a much graver tone. "I really am sorry. I love you."

  "I love you too. Call me as soon as you can."

  "Deal."

  Kira hung up the phone, meeting Luke's eyes. They had a lot to do if they were going to be in West Virginia before the sun rose.

  Chapter Ten

  Kira looked around the airport. Her mom should be here by now. Had something happened? Did Aldrich's cronies come back? Was she trapped somewhere? Alone and helpless?

  "Kira."

  She jumped… not helpless, just angry...

  "Mom! I'm so happy you're here."

  "Yeah, yeah." She gave her daughter a quick hug. "I know what your punishment is going to be." Kira rolled her eyes. Really? The first words out of her mouth?

  Next to her, Luke snickered. Jerk. She should have left him back in Charleston with Pavia and Tristan.

  "Was it that you got to fly air-conduit on the private jet while Luke and I were stuck in smaller than half-of-my-butt-cheek seats next to the bathroom? Did I mention the flush was broken?"

  "It was traumatizing, Mrs. D," Luke said in a sorrowful voice.

  "No, that's not it." She grinned. "But it does make me feel a little better."

  "Mom." Kira rolled her eyes and started walking ahead of them toward the rental car stand. She was evil.

  "First, you're staying home for a while, I mean until you go to the college or culinary school of your choice." Kira started to protest but was waved off. "There are plenty of wonderful restaurants to work at in Charleston."

  Kira sighed but nodded. Charleston was a great city and she wanted to spend more time with her family anyway. "Second?" Better to get it over with.

  "Second, no trips, not even with Luke or the conduits, unless I'm there too."