Scorch (18 page)

It was silent for a moment. Her mom was
thinking, trying to drive and bring back an old memory at the same
time.

"So, what is it?" Kira asked, impatient.

"Yeah, what is it?" Luke repeated, sounding
like a five-year-old.

"It's an old Punisher legend, sort of like a
creation story," her mother began, "I don't know why I didn't think
of it earlier, although I'm not sure how truthful or helpful it
is."

"It's okay," Kira placed a hand above her
mother's, letting their fingers intertwine over the clutch,
"anything will help, Mom."

"Do you remember the first Punisher story,
the story of how vampires and conduits came to be? Lucifer fell
first, bringing other corrupted angels to the earth with him, where
they feasted on human blood and turned humans into their own
twisted puppets. Seeing this, the pure angels asked God to release
them from the heavens so they could bring their brothers back,
could save them from themselves, and God agreed. But soon even the
pure angels began to change, began to fall. So to save their souls
and the earth itself, they split their powers in half, becoming
conduits—beings strong enough to fight the newly created once-human
vampires, but not blessed enough to fall into the darkness."

"Right," Kira replied, "that's what the other
Punisher told me, back in Aldrich's dungeon. What do two angels
have to do with it?"

"Well, within all of this madness, two of the
pure angels fell in love."

"It always comes down to a love story," Luke
said quietly from the back seat.

"It does," her mom said, smiling sadly into
the rearview mirror before turning back to the road, "and like most
love stories, this one is star-crossed. The woman had a best
friend, a true brother, who had fallen with Lucifer, turning into
an evil, mangled original vampire. And the man had a true sister
who was killed by his love's brother."

"Jeez, talk about bad luck," Kira muttered
under her breath. Why did every story seem to have a sad ending
these days?

"But still, the two of them fell in love, and
when they realized that the darkness was coming for them, that they
would be unable to hold on much longer, an idea came—a way to save
each other. They would ask God to strip their divinity, to make
them human, so they could live together on earth for however many
years a short mortal life allowed. God agreed.

"And when the day came, they held hands,
waiting for their powers to be stripped. As the sun leaked from
their bodies, however, a thought came to each of them. The woman,
still believing her brother was alive somewhere, wished for the
power to save him. And the man, wanting more than anything to
avenge his sister, wished for the power to end that vampire's
life.

"And when God's eternal fire left their
bodies, two different people emerged. A Protector and a Punisher.
Two races, two flames and two paths. Knowing what their love would
bring, what a child might mean, they went different ways, changing
more original angels to their respective causes. And though their
love remained strong until they died, the two never saw each other
again."

"That is the worst bedtime story ever," Luke
said, sighing and leaning back against his seat.

"Tell me about it," her mother remarked, "I
used to have nightmares as a child, not dreams."

"But how does it help us?" He asked.

"I'm not sure," her mother said softly.

But Kira had an idea. It was about making a
choice. Keep her Punisher powers to kill Aldrich, avenging both her
parents and Tristan. Or keep her Protector powers to stay with
Luke.

A choice.

Aldrich or Luke.

Her parents or Luke.

Tristan or Luke.

She rolled over, searching the skyline.
Smoke. Black clouds still billowed into the air above the trees.
All it did was remind her that time was running out. That she
needed to choose.

Or a lot more than a forest would burn.

The whole world would crumble.

Chapter Twelve

"There's one thing I don't quite understand,"
Luke said. The two of them were driving to his house to meet with
Tristan and Pavia.

The flight home from West Virginia had been
miserable. Kira feigned sleep for most of the ride, unable to sort
through her tumultuous thoughts.

Luke picked up his car from the airport
parking lot and dropped her mother off at home. Kira wanted to run
inside, to hug her little sister and give her father a kiss, but
she was supposed to be in Sonnyville, happy and safe. And her
facial expression would have given her away, would have made her
father know something was wrong. Besides, they had work to do.

There was always more work to do. And the
more they drove, the more she worried that Luke saw it too—saw the
indecision etched into her features.

Silence filled the car. Luke wanted to read
her mind. And Kira, more than anything, wanted to hide that there
was still a choice to make, still an unexpected barrier between
their futures together.

"What?" Kira asked. Luke had said something,
but she had been too deep into her own head to hear him.

"I said, there's one thing I don't quite
understand."

"Only one? I'm impressed," Kira mocked,
covering up her worry with a smirk.

"Ha. Ha," He drawled, "I meant one thing
about the fight. I don't understand how the vampires knew we were
there."

"Hm," Kira shrugged, unbuckling her seatbelt
as Luke's house came into view.

"Don't you think it's strange? That place was
totally deserted for years and then on the one day that we're
there, a whole troop of vampires is too?"

"Yeah, it's weird," Kira said, pausing while
they both stepped out of the car, "but I've seen weirder. One of
them probably saw us in the airport or on the road and just
followed the car."

"I guess," Luke said, but he squinted one
eye, pursing his lips in dissatisfaction.

"Is that music?" Kira asked, straining her
ears. It sounded like a violin was playing softly inside of Luke's
home. The sound grew as they approached the front door. A soft peel
of laughter joined it, followed by a deep muffled voice.

Luke unlocked the door.

Kira's eyebrows drew together. A sharp inhale
sucked air into her suddenly burning lungs and an invisible punch
knocked her gut, making her stumble backward on unsteady feet.

Tristan and Pavia stood arm in arm in the
center of the living room—one hand around her hip, another around
his neck, two joined together. He twirled her in a circle. She
laughed at her misstep and he smiled, whispering something into her
ear. The lights were dimmed. The music romantic. And Kira knew
Pavia was anything but clumsy. The first memory Pavia had shared
with Kira was of her dancing before a crowd—graceful and
smooth.

A brown eye caught Kira's.

Tristan released Pavia, letting her go and
stepping a foot backwards, away from the vampire's body. He shook
his head, confused, looking between the two girls, fighting with
two different versions of himself.

Pavia spun, her cheeks puffing into a grin.
"Welcome home. Tristan was just showing me how to dance," she
placed a hand on his forearm, "and he's a wonderful teacher."

"Funny, I thought you already knew how," Kira
replied, hating the jealousy dripping from her voice. This was
totally allowed. She had given Tristan up. But even so, the thought
of someone else touching him ripped at her heart.

"Not the waltz, silly," Pavia said and
stepped back, giggling and sitting on the couch. Maybe Kira was
reading too much into the situation…

"How was your visit?" Tristan asked, letting
the words come out slowly, carefully, as if he wasn't sure what, if
any, line had been crossed.

Kira walked farther into the room, taking the
only open seat next to Pavia so both boys had to settle into
armchairs. She didn't look at Luke. "Eventful. Any word from your
friends?"

"Alessandro should be calling with an update
soon, sometime tonight." Alessandro? Kira silently questioned,
before remembering him as Hawk-Nose, the one trying infiltrate
Aldrich's inner-circle.

"We ran into some vampires while we were
there," Luke interrupted, "I was just telling Kira how odd it
seemed to me."

Pavia shrugged, blowing the ever-straying
lock of hair from her forehead, "Maybe. Someone probably just saw
you at the airport. Unless you think they followed you all the way
from Charleston?"

"No," Luke sighed, letting the word drag out,
"If they followed us here from Sonnyville, they probably wouldn't
have waited so long to strike."

"What if they followed her mom?"

Kira perked up.

"How would they have known where she was
going? It's not like there were tickets they could track. She used
the conduit airplane."

"What if they were already listening?" Kira
whispered.

"What?" Luke asked. Kira met his eyes,
ignoring the quick glance he made between her body and
Tristan's.

"What if they were already listening to the
conduits? Spying on Sonnyville? The airport is just outside the
wall, they could have been watching it." Kira rubbed her temples. A
thought was tugging at her, irking her. Something didn’t add
up.

"But why?" Luke asked.

And suddenly it hit Kira, ramming into her
like a truck.

"Of course," she said, squinting and rubbing
at her temples, "Why didn’t I see it before?"

"What?" Luke and Pavia asked in unison. They
didn’t see it yet.

"Sonnyville. That's the plan. That's always
been the plan." Kira stood and started pacing. "Aldrich, he's going
to attack Sonnyville. He knows I won’t be able to hideout while all
of those people are being attacked. He knows I'll go, knows I'll
want to fight him—"

"But you can't, Kira," Luke said, standing
too.

"But I have to," Kira said. A choice. It was
always about making a choice.

"There are too many conduits—"

"I know." Luke was right. There were too many
conduits. Too many sweetly scented veins to drag her down, to
entice her, to push her over the edge. If she went there, used her
powers there, she would fall. No questions. That was an absolute.
And even more absolute? Conduits would die. "But I can't let him
win." A choice.

"Hold up," Pavia interjected, "you're saying
Aldrich is going to attack Sonnyville? It's suicide."

"He doesn't care anymore," Kira said, "all he
cares about is finishing what he started back in England. Turning
me. Ending the conduits. God, why didn’t I see it before?"

Why didn't she see it when her mother was
attacked, Kira thought, why didn’t she realize Sonnyville was
always the end goal—always the battleground?

"I need to call Alessandro. Maybe he can
confirm it." Pavia stood, retreating to the kitchen.

"I need to call the Council. I have to warn
them." Luke followed, turning left for the stairs rather than
right.

Kira fell back onto the couch, chiding
herself. Idiot. It was so obvious. He knew what he had been doing
all along. Attacking her mother. Attacking her home. Practically
begging her to choose vengeance, to meet him for a final fight. He
was never trying to kill her, just to goad her, because he did
know. Ever since he had escaped, Aldrich had known that he had been
right all along—that she would fall and she would bring the rest of
the conduits down with her.

Unless a choice was really all it took. Keep
her Punisher powers to kill him, or let them go for the chance at
something more.

"Kira?"

She blinked, turning slightly to look at
Tristan. What a different a couple of days could make. His soft
chocolate eyes did nothing to lessen her anxiety, but his presence
did. The familiarity helped set her mind at ease.

"Yeah, Tristan?"

He stood up, walking over to sit on the edge
of the couch, his leg a somehow distant one-inch from hers.

"I know I am not the man you remember, but I
would still like to help. I can see that you are uneasy, that
something more than what's been spoken is troubling you."

"Am I that obvious?" She laughed under her
breath.

He shrugged, unsure of how to respond.

Kira took his hand in her lap, holding it
between both of hers. "You know what's funny? I mean, not really
funny, but strange. You used to be my person, the one who could
help me escape when the conduit life seemed overwhelming or my
future seemed hopeless. Somehow, you'd distract me enough to make
it disappear for a while, to make me feel like a normal teenage
girl."

"Maybe I still can," he said, bringing his
other hands over hers, so four sets of fingers interlaced.

How? Kira wanted to ask. The old Tristan
would talk of their lives together. The places they would travel,
the things they would see, the memories they would create. He
always avoided serious things, like getting married, since he
wasn't legally a person, or having children, since it wasn't
possible. But somehow, he managed to talk of the future without
making her think of those things. He would make it seem glamorous
and hopeful, instead of the truth—that she was completely
doomed.

"I'll start by telling you that no matter
what happens, you still saved me. I have a feeling that you've
saved me once before, during a time I don't remember, but even in
the few days that I do, I feel as though I need to thank you."

"No, you don—"

"I do," he interrupted, "you brought me back
to life. Literally. You gave me a second chance to be a good
person, to get it right. But also in another way. You brought me
home, and even though it feels like my parents and brother were
alive only a week ago, being here has helped me accept that they
are gone."