Scorch (16 page)

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, Kira 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.