Ignite (Midnight Fire Series Book One) (20 page)

Kira kept looking down, imagining the girl as
the woman she had seen her in the dream, with pale blonde hair and
a dazzling smile. She saw her mother, alone, abandoned by her
people, left to die while her husband’s body was recovered and her
baby taken away.

"Is it painful?" She asked Tristan. He
understood.

"No. Most times, the victim is in a dream
state, not aware of their surroundings or of what’s happening.
There are sometimes exceptions though, if no care is taken." Kira
nodded. "Let me have her. I’ll bring her body closer to the school
where someone will take notice and call an ambulance."

Kira felt more than saw the girl be lifted
from her arms. She let her body fall back on the dirt; let herself
curl into a fetal position and cry. Had her mother been in pain the
whole time? Had she felt the life drain from her body? Her father
had been killed quickly, perhaps because he was a man, and they
feared the Punishers more. Kira prayed her mother had been sucked
into a dream and that she never knew what happened. That in her
mind, Kira and her played with fire all the way back to a safe
house where the three of them could have grown up as a family. She
prayed her mother died to dreams of kissing her child goodnight,
growing old with her husband and escaping the confines of conduit
society. The truth would have been too hard to bear.

Tristan returned for Kira. She barely noticed
him pick her up and hold her close to his chest, letting her tears
soak his fresh white suit shirt. She pulled his jacket tighter
around her, relishing the smell of him—the smell of musk, generic
soap and burnt embers that might have come from her.

Eventually, Tristan stopped walking and
opened his car door. They slid into the backseat with Tristan still
cradling her in his arms. Kira fell asleep while he hummed a jazz
tune quietly in her ear and placed a loving kiss on her
forehead.

That night, she dreamed of the first year of
her life: of her parents, of her powers, of how happy she had
seemed in that memory. She remembered the games they had played to
teach her how to control her flames and how to hide when she needed
to. They had loved her and she had loved them with all her heart,
and when they were taken away, Kira had shut down. She had promised
her father to never show anyone her powers, so she never used them
again—not in front of her adoptive mother and never even alone.
Eventually, Kira realized, she had just completely forgotten about
her powers.

But clearly now all of that had changed.

When Kira woke up, her back ached and she was
freezing. She pulled Tristan’s blazer tighter around herself,
fending off the cool November morning air, before realizing it was
probably Tristan himself that was chilling her.

She sat up and maneuvered out of his arms,
trying not to wake him. Oddly, Kira didn’t feel embarrassed at all
about spending the night with him in his car. She loved having him
hold her and comfort her. Sure, her parents would flip when she got
home and she would have to figure out what to say to Luke. But for
once, Kira wasn’t going to worry about that.

Kira looked out the car window at the grounds
brushed with dew and the sun that had just started peaking through
the sky. The night had awakened something inside of her and she
felt different. More in control, like her memories had allowed her
to acknowledge her birthright and to understand it wasn’t horrible
but beautiful. She could save people. Perhaps, she had been born
not for chaos but for life.

Kira opened her palm and let a little flame
rise to rest on her hand like a small campfire. Her fingers warmed
instantly as did her body. Feeling the sun gather on her skin left
her completed contented. The swelling under her eyes receded, her
scratches from the forest mended themselves, and finally Kira found
something better to wake up too than coffee.

"You’re beautiful. You know that?"

Kira turned to Tristan, happy to wake up to
his barely opened eyes and lazy smile. Distracted, she let her
light grow, until she saw Tristan wince.

"Sorry," she said and winked it out of
existence.

"I don’t mind." He sat up.

"So what now?" Kira asked, letting her head
fall back on his shoulder.

"Do you need to go home?" Kira shook her
head. There were too many things they needed to talk about. She
wanted Tristan to open up to her and tell her about his past. Kira
knew that if she went home, he would close himself off again to
protect her. "Good, then just trust me." He got out of the car and
hopped into the driver’s seat while Kira sat on the passenger side.
Tristan started the engine and slid his hand into hers as he sped
out of the school parking lot.

Kira couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had
seen them sleeping in Tristan’s car last night. Someone must have.
They were in the middle of the parking lot and not everyone had
left the school dance. Luke might have, but Kira didn’t even want
to think about that. He would be so angry and hurt. He would never
understand why she wanted Tristan, but she and Tristan were the
same in many ways—both outcasts who didn’t really belong
anywhere.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Tristan asked.

Kira relaxed and placed her feet on the
dashboard, letting her eyes meet his, knowing they sparkled like
Emma had said earlier.

"I’m thinking I’m happy just sitting here
with you like it’s completely normal," she smiled and he grinned
back, clutching her fingers a little tighter. "I’m also thinking,
damn I wish I’d brought a change of clothes." Tristan snickered and
Kira glanced at her leather-covered legs, happy she at least had
his coat.

"Don’t worry. We’re not going anywhere
public."

"And, where are we going? You don’t have to
be so mysterious all the time."

"Maybe I just like keeping you on your toes."
Kira rolled her eyes and settled in to her seat some more,
listening to the music and letting Tristan concentrate on the
driving.

Eventually they pulled up next to a
riverbank. Tristan led Kira along the shore, pulling her until they
reached a giant oak tree with branches that reached out over the
water. Tristan slid on the branch in front of her and then helped
Kira up. Kira let her back rest against the tree trunk, watching
Tristan as he inched further out past the few feet of marsh, until
his feet dangled over flowing water. Kira listened to the birds
chirp, the water swoosh and the trees rustle, and felt at
peace.

"It’s beautiful. What river are we on? How’d
you find it?"

"The Ashley River. I’ve come her ever since I
was a boy."

"One hundred and fifty years ago?" Kira
asked. This was what they had come here for—to talk and to tell
their stories. Kira looked at Tristan, watched him peel bark off
the branch with his fingers and struggle with what to say. "It’s
okay." She wished he would move closer so she could hold his hands
and provide some comfort.

Tristan took a deep breath in, let the air
ease out and began to tell his story.

"I was born in 1847, right here in
Charleston, to two wealthy plantation owners." He glanced up at
her, trying to gauge Kira’s reaction, but she just nodded
encouragingly. "My house wasn’t far from this spot, and I used to
play on this tree as a little boy. I was often by myself, left
alone to explore and play. You see my mother was the only one who
ever understood me. We’d go into Charleston and she’d buy me
expensive paints. The first time she bought me a canvas, she took
me up to the steeple I showed you and told me to draw the city. It
was life changing." He paused, and Kira tried to picture him as a
little boy, hiding away with paints and drawing pads, exploring the
forests alone. It was a sad image of a lonely childhood, and Kira
was suddenly more grateful than ever for Chloe and the parents she
did have.

"You have to understand, I never liked
slavery, never wanted the family business, and never wanted any
part of cotton. That was for my brother. I needed beauty and not
savagery. But, when the war came, I did my duty. We both went off
fighting, my brother fighting for power and I fighting to protect
the city I loved, but not the lifestyle. One night, in 1864, the
Northern army surprised my regiment and I got shot twice—once in
the thigh, once in the shoulder. I fell instantly and watched as my
fellow soldiers retreated to leave me stranded. Other dying men lay
moaning all around me and I slowly bled out, awake for what seemed
like hours, hearing others fall silent beside me, until a man came.
I saw him kneel with the dying, leaning in close. At first, I
thought he was a priest saying prayers for the dead, but then he
came closer, and I saw the blood all over his face and started
screaming. For some reason he took pity on me, and saved my life by
turning me. When I woke up, feeling the hunger, I knew hate for the
first time. I wished I’d died."

Tristan eased his eyes shut, lost in his own
thoughts for a moment. Kira knew he was struggling with the
memories of the life he had lost.

He opened his eyes and stared out into the
distance, at the trees on the far side of the riverbank swaying in
this wind. Kira had a feeling he was staring through them to a
scene she would never herself be able to see. "Aldrich, my maker,
was not a good man. He kept dungeons filled with human prisoners,
enjoyed torture and murder. For thirty years, I stayed with him. He
forced me to kill, to feed off terrified and crying women, and I
thought it was the only way to live. That I was damned to that hell
forever."

Tristan let out a sad smile and ran his hand
through his hair. His shoulders were hunched, but he turned his
head to look at Kira. "One night, a band of Punishers raided his
home. We all fled, but I purposely let the conduits separate us. I
knew it was my only chance to escape, so I let him think I’d died.
I’ve never seen him since. I don’t know whether he lived or died,
and I never want to."

Kira wanted to cry for him, for the horrible
things he had lived through. He moved closer to her, back towards
the shore, and Kira grabbed his hand when he was within reach. She
pulled him to her, until he had shifted so his back rested against
her stomach. She hugged her arms around him.

"It’s alright, now."

"I may be a vampire, but I’m not a bad man. I
swear it." He sounded as though he was about to cry. Kira realized
his memories still haunted him.

"I know," she said and nodded, hoping he felt
the movement against his head, understanding she was sincere.

"After I escaped, I kept to myself for a long
time. I fed off people because I had too, but never enjoyed it and
never killed again. I traveled, jumping from one city to the next,
trying to see the wonders of the world and meeting different sorts
of vampires along the way. Some were just as bad as Aldrich and
some were just like me. During the First World War, I scavenged on
soldiers dying in Europe, but a few years later a discovery changed
my life. I stumbled upon a Russian blood bank, found bags full of
blood and realized my days of feeding on humans were over."

"When did you meet the others?" Kira asked,
thinking of Diana, Jerome and John.

"I knew Diana from the start," Tristan angled
his head to look at Kira. She hoped she covered her shock well
enough. Diana and Tristan had known each other for more than a
century? "She was with Aldrich for years before he turned me. She
took to his teachings far more than I ever did, but she always
believed we were meant to be together. She was the one who helped
me escape, and I never heard from her again, until I returned to
Charleston fifteen years ago, finally ready to come back home. I
was tired of drifting, of being alone, and I missed Charleston. It
hadn’t changed all that much in one hundred years, and I was
walking through the old town one night when I saw her with Jerome
and John. She welcomed me back with open arms, and even though I
disapprove of their lifestyles, it felt so nice to have a family
again. But all that changed when I met you."

"Why?" Kira couldn’t understand how two
months of barely knowing her had changed Tristan so deeply that he
would betray the one person he had known for one hundred years.
Because surely that’s what Diana saw it as—betrayal. The past two
months had flipped her life upside down, but she never imagined
Tristan felt the same.

"When I first saw you, in the classroom, I
had no idea what you were. I never dreamed conduits could form
mixed breeds, but Diana knew right away, and she wanted to capture
you and to kill you. As soon as she said it, I don’t know why, but
all I could think about was protecting you. Well, some protector I
turned out to be." He shook his head and sat up, jumping from the
tree to stand on the shore. He knelt down to gather some flat
stones to skip along the water’s glassy surface.

Kira watched as he beat himself up over the
events of the past few weeks. No wonder he always seemed sad, Kira
thought. He blamed himself for everything, even things completely
outside his control. "I’m alive, aren’t I?"

"Because you discovered your power. Diana
almost killed you."

"But Tristan," she sat up and grabbed his
shoulder, forcing him to face her, "I might have never discovered
anything if you hadn’t helped me, in the classroom, when you scared
me. It awakened my power, made me know I could somehow help myself.
And, let’s not forget that you saved me from almost drowning." His
features softened and he leaned back against the tree branch,
covering her hand with his own, keeping it securely on his
shoulder.

"You must have questions. Fire away."

Kira chewed her lip, thinking of what to ask
first. Her mind was practically bursting, but she didn’t know where
to start. What do you ask someone who is old enough to be your
grandfather but looks young enough to date? Normally, Kira thought,
a guy his age would be married…married? How many girls had he been
with? Kira had only been dating for a handful of years, and she had
already had at least one boyfriend. Tristan had been doing it for
one hundred and fifty years. He must have had tons of lovers.