Blaze (8 page)

Tristan put his hand on her shoulder. His
arm jerked slightly at the touch and Kira knew her skin stung. But
the cool note of his hand helped calm her flames and she continued
to focus on her breathing.

“She wants to look perfect for you, Kira,”
Aldrich said, still as relaxed as ever. Either he couldn’t sense
the storm brewing in Kira’s chest or he wasn’t afraid of it. For
some reason, Kira couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was up
there shaking her mother out of a trance and forcing her into a
pretty dress. Just like the Asian servant from before, Kira
couldn’t help but imagine her mother with vacant eyes, a lifeless
walk and bruises across her skin. She couldn’t help but imagine two
holes permanently poked through her neck from overuse and two lumps
of scar tissue where a smooth nape should be.

“I told you I never harmed her,” Aldrich
said as if sensing Kira’s thoughts. Kira spun to stare at him in
anger, wondering if her own eyes were bright blue like Tristan’s
when he was mad.

“I’m sorry if that’s a little hard to
believe, seeing as we’re mortal enemies and everything.” Kira
forced the words through her teeth.

“Mortal enemies? I’m sure Tristan is happy
to hear that,” Aldrich said with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t twist my words around, you know what
I mean.”

Aldrich sighed. For a moment, Kira couldn’t
tell if it was heartfelt or more of an act. “Is it so hard to
believe that I might have changed after a century?”

Kira snorted.

“Yes,” Tristan said from the chair next to
her. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were curled almost into a
snarl.

“Tristan,” Aldrich chided, “you of all
people should understand that all it takes is the right girl to
change a man.”

“Excuse me?” Kira asked in disbelief. “Are
you trying to say my mother is, well, is like your girlfriend?”

“My wife, actually,” Aldrich said calmly,
“and here she comes.”

Kira spun in her chair, eyes wide in
disbelief. His wife? Seriously? What about her father, what about
love will prevail, what about forever? They had given everything up
to be together—friends, family, the only society they had ever
known.

A woman appeared around the bend of the
staircase, completely stopping Kira’s train of thought. She was
tall and thin with golden blonde hair piled into a smooth bun on
the top of her head. Her dress was dark blue silk, cinched almost
like a Kimono with large sleeves and a sash that gathered at her
waist. The skirt was narrow, but there were no curves on her
mother’s thin frame, so it looked classic.

As she came closer, Kira could make out the
shape of her face. She had the same slightly wide eyes that Kira
had, but they were downcast and looking at the floor. Her small
nose was again similar to Kira’s—there was no denying the
resemblance. It was her mother. It had to be.

Finally, a slight smile gathered on the
woman’s lips, and Kira was sure. It was the same secretive look
from the photograph in her locket. She had memorized that look,
played it over and over again in her mind.

“Mom?” Kira said and reached her arm out as
if she could pull her mother closer. Her heart was fluttering in
her chest, beating wildly with nerves. Sweat rose on her palms and
Kira started to feel lightheaded. It was really her. Kira had
dreamed of this moment for months. No one else believed her. Luke
and Tristan both thought she was crazy to believe her mother was
still alive, stupid for even thinking it. But here she was, walking
towards Kira through soft candlelight.

“Mom?” Kira said again, stepping towards the
door to greet her. Would she hug her? Would she just keep staring,
worried that if she reached out to touch her mother, the image
would disappear?

The woman stopped in the doorway, until
finally, in slow motion, she raised her eyelids from the floor to
look Kira in the eyes.

Kira’s heart stopped.

Blue.

Her mother’s eyes were blue.

The secretive smile widened slightly and two
small teeth poked out from beneath her upper lip.

Kira’s legs felt weak.

Her mother wasn’t alive.

She was dead.

She was a vampire.

Chapter Five

Tristan caught Kira before she hit the
ground, but she didn’t notice. Kira was numb. Her mind was
completely blank save one image: teeth. Two teeth—slim, dainty,
sharp, and wrong. They weren’t supposed to be there. They were
ripping up her insides, shredding her nerves to useless strings,
swallowing her thoughts like blood.

A face appeared above Kira. A hand, thin and
unfamiliar, cupped her cheek. It was cool, like ice, and it stung
her hot skin. Slowly the image came together. Blue eyes looking
down at her, overly large just like hers. Two small pink lips were
moving, speaking to her.

It felt like waking up from the coma all
over again. Slowly her mind began to pull the pieces together. She
was on the floor, resting in Tristan’s lap. The woman above her was
her mother. Her mother was alive and speaking to her, trying to say
something.

Her mother was here. She was alive. Alive.
She was all right.

“Kira, darling, are you okay?” Her voice was
soft and warm. It was caring, like a mother’s should be, and it
lulled Kira awake. In all of her dreams, this was the moment Kira
had imagined. The reunion.

“Mom?” Kira said, reaching her own hand to
her mother’s cheek. It was damp. “Mom,” Kira said again, just to
confirm the truth in the statement.

Kira’s body lifted instinctively and her
arms wrapped around her mother, gripping fiercely. “I thought you
were dead,” Kira cried softly into her mother’s shoulder, “I never
thought I would actually find you.” Her mother shushed Kira and
stroked her hand down Kira’s curly hair, comforting her long lost
daughter.

For a moment, Kira was blissfully happy. So
happy she forgot herself, forgot her control, forgot where she was.
It wasn’t until her mother cried out in pain that Kira realized
what she doing and opened her eyes.

All three vampires stood on the other side
of the room, crouched together against the flames bursting from
Kira’s palms. The wine goblets in the cabinet started to rattle as
Kira met Aldrich’s cold stare. He was ready to knock her out if
need be. But it was an accident. She didn’t mean to.

Kira quelled her powers, closing her fingers
tightly around her palms, trapping the fire inside.

No one moved. The only things alive in the
room were the flickering candle flames and the shadows that danced
with them. Kira looked away with shame. At first, the ugly feeling
curdling in her stomach seemed self-directed. But peeking out of
the corner of her eye, Kira realized the shame was not for her
actions. The shame was for her mother, the blue dress cowering in
the corner behind the sturdy bodies of Tristan and Aldrich. Kira
couldn’t look at her mother like that. Couldn’t look at this woman,
who in her dreams had understood Kira perfectly—who in her only
memory had fought for Kira’s life with fire.

Blinking away tears, Kira couldn’t help but
squirm with the wrongness of it all. She had been afraid her mother
was really dead. She had been afraid that her mother was locked up
somewhere, numb and bruised and weak. She had been afraid that her
mother’s mind had vanished from multiple feedings or beatings at
the hand of Aldrich. But Kira wasn’t prepared for this: for a
mother who was afraid of her—for a mother who couldn’t be healed by
her flames, but could die from them.

Tristan was the first to break the
stalemate. He approached Kira, took her by the hand and forced her
to look at him. He was worried, but Kira didn’t miss the drop of
hope in his irises. She looked away.

“Why don’t we all take a moment to sit
down,” Aldrich’s slick voice said.

With a hand on the small of her back,
Tristan guided Kira to her seat then sat down beside her. On the
other side of the table, Aldrich did the same with her mother. Six
eyes stared at Kira, waiting for her to say something, but the
words were stuck on her tongue. She didn’t know what to say or
where to look. So she focused on the soft glowing flames over her
mother’s shoulder, trying to draw comfort from the fire.

Again, Tristan broke the silence.

“How,” he started but swallowed the words
when he realized how laced with mirth they were. Kira’s eyes were
hollow, but his were happy and full of possibilities. Coughing, he
spoke again, this time in a much more controlled manner. “How is
this possible?”

“It’s simple, really,” Aldrich said, but
paused when a new servant, one with the same vacant eyes, walked
into the room holding a tray. Three goblets were placed on the
table, one before each vampire, and a plate of food was set in
front of Kira. Glancing down, Kira recognized chicken and smelled a
hint of lemon in the sauce. For once, food did not interest her at
all and she shifted her gaze to Tristan.

“Simple?” He asked while leaning forward in
his seat. His eyes were glued to Aldrich, turning lighter and
lighter with each passing second as he let his excitement gather.
Absently, he reached for the cup and took a sip. When he set the
cup down, his lips were stained red.

“It’s all about desire,” Aldrich spoke,
distracting Kira with his own ruby lips. He smiled at her mother.
The crevices between his teeth were crimson before he licked the
excess liquid away. “Changing a conduit is really no different than
changing a human, but the conduit has to want it.” Two pearly white
hands clasped closer together sharing a secret moment of love.
Kira’s heart flipped in her chest and the gripping fingers expanded
to take up her entire line of vision, growing bigger and bigger, or
maybe her focus was growing smaller and smaller.

“With a human, want doesn’t matter. They
can’t fight the turning. Our bite consumes them. And when the blood
exchange occurs, our blood overpowers them. But with a conduit it
is different. Their blood boils and burns ours, cursing it from
their system before the change can occur. But a willing conduit,”
he paused, took a moment to stroke her mother’s palm with his thumb
and bring her hand to his lips, “a willing conduit won’t fight our
blood. They will welcome it.” Her mother smiled with pink stained
lips and Kira’s eyes snapped up to those discolored teeth. The
secretive smile she had dreamed of seeing in person was corrupted,
stained like her mother’s teeth by blood. It was directed at the
wrong man, a killer with brown hair instead of a father with red
curls.

“How has this never been discovered before?”
Tristan asked. Kira heard the words distantly in her mind.

“How many conduits have fallen in love with
a vampire before?”

Tristan leaned back in his chair with
thoughts circulating faster than even his quick brain could
process. Kira on the other hand was slow and sluggish. Her gaze
followed her mother’s, honed in on Aldrich’s open smile. She
searched for some break in his calm demeanor, some evil flicker
that would let her in on the secret and let her know the game was
up. The love in her mother’s eyes couldn’t be real—she couldn’t be
looking at this murderer with affection. Kira thought of the holes
in the servant’s neck and her absent, haunting stare. How could her
mom love a man who could do that? How could she forget about her
father? About the man who sacrificed his life to save Kira, who
jumped into a pile of vampires to try and save her, who gave up
everything he had ever known for an unborn child. How could this
woman in front of her have abandoned him for Aldrich?

“These Dawson women,” Aldrich said with a
smile before reaching for his glass again.

“She’s not a Dawson,” Kira whispered,
surprising even herself. Aldrich’s eyes snapped to her
instantly.

“She speaks,” he said mockingly, always
acting superior. “What’s that?” With his vampire senses, Kira
doubted Aldrich had actually missed her words, but his haughty
attitude goaded her and suddenly she was furious.

“I said, she’s not a Dawson.” Kira spoke
through clenched lips and her hands began to burn. “My father was a
Dawson. I am a Dawson. But she is not.” Kira crossed her arms and
hugged her palms to her body to keep her fire from exploding. She
didn’t even realize she was shaking.

“That’s no way to speak to your mother,”
Aldrich said. Her mother remained silent across the table and
looked at Kira with cold blue eyes.

“Is she my mother?” Kira stood quickly,
knocking her chair over. The slam of heavy wood against tile
reverberated around the dining room, echoing in the silence of the
accusation.

“Of course I am, sweetheart,” her mother
said and reached out her hand. Kira stepped back.

“The mother I remember fought with her life
to protect me. I don’t think she would have been content to wait
eighteen years before seeing me again.”

“There were reasons,” she spoke softly,
trying to break through Kira’s fury.

“Like what?” Kira spat.

“Like I was a newly born vampire with no
control over her senses and you were a child with no idea of her
powers,” she replied, still calm and cajoling. Kira sat back
down.

Behind her, Tristan pulled Aldrich from the
room to give the two women privacy. The doors to the living room
were sealed shut and in the small space, Kira had nowhere to look
but at her mother, whose soothing voice did nothing but inflate her
anger.

“I wanted to find you,” her mother
continued, “but I had to wait until the right moment. We both
needed to have control over our bodies. But, you have to know that
for eighteen years this moment is all I’ve dreamed of. I’ve wanted
to be with you for so long, to hug you and never let you go. I just
wanted everything to perfect, can’t you understand that?”