could fly, as though her feet,
already pumping at an inhuman speed, would eventually lift free of
the ground and propel her forward based on will alone.
The house was disappearing behind her,
glowing from flames dancing through the windows, hopefully
engulfing Aldrich whole.
That evil man.
He would pay, he was paying, even if it
wasn't her revenge, the idea was still sweet on her lips. A sugary
flavor making her hunger grow.
She needed to find a human. Now.
Refusing to stop running, she peered through
the dark air, hoping for a lick of light to guide her way toward a
house, but the landscape was quiet except for the flames still
cackling in her ears.
But she wouldn't go back there. Not ever. Not
for anyone.
The conduits had set her free and had let her
go, a double escape, one she couldn't tempt. Not even for—
A scream pierced the night.
She stopped.
She recognized that scream.
Kira.
Kira screaming as though her life was being
ripped from her body, which meant one thing—Aldrich was
escaping.
Hesitating for a second, she spun on her
heels. Aldrich had to pay.
The house was almost dark, smelling of burnt
flesh and sunlight and a sweet delicious blood that teased her. She
let her senses pull her onwards, since the fire from before had
died out. The fire she had been sure Aldrich would burn in.
As the house enlarged, she slowed down. She
could smell them, the conduits all still in the house, waiting for
instruction. But still, they were all still, so Kira couldn't be
dying. But she was whimpering, her cries sounded softly through the
night.
There was a window up ahead.
She moved quietly closer, hiding in the
darkness she had missed, peering through the house toward the
commotion.
There was Kira. She was kneeling on the
ground, her hand stopped above a body of charred flesh, tears
streaking down her face as her eyes grew wider and wider.
Aldrich. It had to be.
But what was Kira doing? Was she prolonging
the kill? Do it. Faster. Just make sure he's gone.
And then flames appeared from Kira's palm,
sinking slowly into the flaking burnt skin of the vampire at her
knees.
Go, go, she thought, urging Kira on with her
silent prayers. It would be a slow death, a painful one just like
he deserved. His skin was darkening, melting off, sinking to the
ground, but wait. What?
His hand.
She stared at his hand. Could it be?
The skin was flaking off, burnt petals fell
to the ground, landing into dust. But in their place was pink
flesh, new, unscarred, unbroken, and thrumming with life.
Kill him, she wanted to scream. But the
bright fresh skin spread farther, up his arm, from his toes to his
thigh, revealing naked, baby-silk skin. Until finally his face
appeared—chiseled cheek bones that led to inviting lips almost
smirked in a smile. He was beautiful.
He was most definitely not Aldrich.
Hair grew from his scalp, black as night,
framing eyes that remained closed.
Closed.
Until he sat up, opening new eyes, new brown
eyes, or old maybe.
And then she fell back, back, back…
Kira jerked in her chair, almost expecting to
land against the cold dirt of the English countryside. Pavia had
come back that night? She wanted Aldrich dead so much that she
returned to finish the job herself? And maybe, just maybe, part of
her had come back to make sure Kira was still alive, that Aldrich
hadn't won.
But she had called Tristan beautiful, and
what was that feeling that came with her thoughts, something almost
warm despite the cold nature of her body.
A fist twisted in Kira's stomach. What—
"So now you've seen it," Pavia said weakly as
she slipped her hand from Kira's and coughed under her breath. "I
saw him change with my own two eyes, and now you've all seen it
too."
"That was," Hawk-Nose licked his lips,
turning toward Kira with a calculating grin, "can you do it
again?"
Nine other pale faces turned toward her, and
even Luke couldn't seem to avert his gaze.
This is it, Kira thought, the moment of
truth. Well, not
already pumping at an inhuman speed, would eventually lift free of
the ground and propel her forward based on will alone.
The house was disappearing behind her,
glowing from flames dancing through the windows, hopefully
engulfing Aldrich whole.
That evil man.
He would pay, he was paying, even if it
wasn't her revenge, the idea was still sweet on her lips. A sugary
flavor making her hunger grow.
She needed to find a human. Now.
Refusing to stop running, she peered through
the dark air, hoping for a lick of light to guide her way toward a
house, but the landscape was quiet except for the flames still
cackling in her ears.
But she wouldn't go back there. Not ever. Not
for anyone.
The conduits had set her free and had let her
go, a double escape, one she couldn't tempt. Not even for—
A scream pierced the night.
She stopped.
She recognized that scream.
Kira.
Kira screaming as though her life was being
ripped from her body, which meant one thing—Aldrich was
escaping.
Hesitating for a second, she spun on her
heels. Aldrich had to pay.
The house was almost dark, smelling of burnt
flesh and sunlight and a sweet delicious blood that teased her. She
let her senses pull her onwards, since the fire from before had
died out. The fire she had been sure Aldrich would burn in.
As the house enlarged, she slowed down. She
could smell them, the conduits all still in the house, waiting for
instruction. But still, they were all still, so Kira couldn't be
dying. But she was whimpering, her cries sounded softly through the
night.
There was a window up ahead.
She moved quietly closer, hiding in the
darkness she had missed, peering through the house toward the
commotion.
There was Kira. She was kneeling on the
ground, her hand stopped above a body of charred flesh, tears
streaking down her face as her eyes grew wider and wider.
Aldrich. It had to be.
But what was Kira doing? Was she prolonging
the kill? Do it. Faster. Just make sure he's gone.
And then flames appeared from Kira's palm,
sinking slowly into the flaking burnt skin of the vampire at her
knees.
Go, go, she thought, urging Kira on with her
silent prayers. It would be a slow death, a painful one just like
he deserved. His skin was darkening, melting off, sinking to the
ground, but wait. What?
His hand.
She stared at his hand. Could it be?
The skin was flaking off, burnt petals fell
to the ground, landing into dust. But in their place was pink
flesh, new, unscarred, unbroken, and thrumming with life.
Kill him, she wanted to scream. But the
bright fresh skin spread farther, up his arm, from his toes to his
thigh, revealing naked, baby-silk skin. Until finally his face
appeared—chiseled cheek bones that led to inviting lips almost
smirked in a smile. He was beautiful.
He was most definitely not Aldrich.
Hair grew from his scalp, black as night,
framing eyes that remained closed.
Closed.
Until he sat up, opening new eyes, new brown
eyes, or old maybe.
And then she fell back, back, back…
Kira jerked in her chair, almost expecting to
land against the cold dirt of the English countryside. Pavia had
come back that night? She wanted Aldrich dead so much that she
returned to finish the job herself? And maybe, just maybe, part of
her had come back to make sure Kira was still alive, that Aldrich
hadn't won.
But she had called Tristan beautiful, and
what was that feeling that came with her thoughts, something almost
warm despite the cold nature of her body.
A fist twisted in Kira's stomach. What—
"So now you've seen it," Pavia said weakly as
she slipped her hand from Kira's and coughed under her breath. "I
saw him change with my own two eyes, and now you've all seen it
too."
"That was," Hawk-Nose licked his lips,
turning toward Kira with a calculating grin, "can you do it
again?"
Nine other pale faces turned toward her, and
even Luke couldn't seem to avert his gaze.
This is it, Kira thought, the moment of
truth. Well, not
Similar Books
