Kissed by Fire (7 page)

I’d cut through this particular cemetery more
than once back when I lived in London. Though the locals tended to
steer clear of the place, it was a great shortcut and I actually
quite liked cemeteries. They were peaceful and empty, except for
the odd necromage. And they were pretty much harmless guys in robes
who had lots of creative ideas about death and magic and very
little actual power.

I placed my hand atop one of the granite
markers. I knew from memory that most of the markers here were from
the eighteen hundreds. I wondered vaguely who was buried here, but
the vampire’s faint scent trail swirled around me. I had no time
for reverie.

I approached the grounds keeper’s building
half expecting to find the trail stopped there, but it continued
through the archway that ran through the building and into the
courtyard out front. The gravel crunched under my feet as I
followed the scent trail across the courtyard and out the front
gates of the cemetery.

I found myself standing on the pavement
staring up and down the street. I inhaled, trying to catch the
scent again. Damn, it was gone.

I back tracked into the courtyard until I
picked it up again. It was there, near the throughway. I stepped
left. Nothing. Right and I caught it. It led me right to the small
fenced enclosure which held a riding mower and a beat up hearse.
The trail stopped there.

That could only mean one thing. The vamp had
a ride. There was no way I could track him. He could be anywhere in
the city.

Snarling a couple of curses under my breath,
I pulled my mobile out of my pocket. It was late and I needed
sleep. The hunt would have to wait. For now. But I promised myself
I wouldn’t leave London again until I finished it.

***

I was so glad to get back to my hotel room, I
collapsed on the bed fully clothed. It was well past midnight and
jet lag was kicking my ass in a big way.

I managed to kick off my boots and shrug out
of my jacket but that was about as far as I got. I snapped off the
bedside lamp and curled up in a ball. I was nearly out when my
phone went.

“What?” I snarled at whoever was on the other
end.

“Where are you?” Shit. It was Jack. That was
all I needed. My brain was far too tired to deal with Jack and
whatever his deal was. We’d barely spoken since our aborted attempt
at a relationship and I wasn’t about to start now.

“I’m in bed.”

“At four in the afternoon?”

I sighed. “I’m in London.”

A pause. I could hear the slight hiss and
crackle of background noise. “As in England?” His voice was deadly
quiet.

“Yes, Jack, as in England. Did you need
something?”

“Morgan,” there was anger now, “you should
not have left without telling me.”

“You’re not my dad, Jack. I don’t need your
permission.” That sounded like a whiny teenager, but frankly I
didn’t care.

He gave a sigh of exasperation. I could
almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose. He did that
sometimes when he was trying not to kill me. “If I am to do my job
as Guardian, I must know where you are. I must be able to protect
you.”

I wasn’t even going to touch that one.

“You should have at least taken the amulet
with you.”

Jack had wanted me to wear the damn thing
ever since I’d activated it, though he wouldn’t say why. I, on the
other hand, was not about to run around with a piece of ancient
Atlantean technology hanging around my neck. Gods knew what it
would do to me. It had already messed my life up enough.

“Jack, I need some sleep. We can talk about
this later.” Yeah, as in never. This was not an argument I was
interested in having.

I hung up before he could say anything else,
then I switched the power off. This hanging up on people was
turning into a bad habit.

Slowly the world shifted from black to white.
I realized I had my face smooshed into my pillow and someone was
banging on my door. I made one of those embarrassing snorting
sounds people sometimes make when they first wake up. There were
times I was so grateful I slept alone.

I managed to haul myself out of bed and
stagger to the door. The security lock baffled me for a minute, but
I managed to get it open. Thank the gods I was still fully dressed.
That could have been embarrassing.

“You look like crap.” Kabita eyed me up and
down.

“Gee, thanks.” I staggered into the bathroom
and, sure enough. I looked like crap.

My skin was pasty, my eyes bloodshot and my
hair looked like a rat had slept in it. As if that weren’t bad
enough, I hadn’t taken off my makeup before going to bed. I had all
the sex appeal of a zombie raccoon.

“I need a shower. Can you wait?”

She shrugged and sat down at the desk.
“Better make it quick if you want breakfast. Dex is picking us up
for the funeral in an hour.”

Damn. I’d forgotten about the funeral.
Sometimes I was the worst friend. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

It was more like twenty, but I managed to
shower, slap on some makeup and blow dry my hair. A couple minutes
after that I was in clean clothes and we were out the door.

I’d brought a black dress for Alison’s
funeral. It was what people did in England. They did not show up in
jeans and T-shirts. I wasn’t a big fan of dresses, but sometimes
you had to go with what was right, not what was comfortable. Even
when it came to fashion. Though I refused to wear one of those
ridiculous hats women were so fond of wearing to such
occasions.

It was a simple wrap dress with mid-length
sleeves and a hemline that hit just below the knees. I had to admit
it showed off my curves really well, but was still modest enough I
wouldn’t look like I was trawling at the funeral. In concession to
being a Hunter and the weather, I’d kept my knee high boots and the
few weapons I could hide. I doubted we’d have any trouble of the
supernatural variety at the funeral, but one can never be too
careful.

Kabita was wearing a form fitting black dress
with a black bolero jacket over the top. It looked good on her.
Unlike me, she’d bowed to convention with a pair of high heels.
Kabita’s feelings on high heels were similar to mine. She must have
caught me staring at them because she gave me a little smile.
“Silver alloy knives inside the heels.”

“Nice. Did Tessalah work those up?” Tessalah
was a freaking genius when it came to weaponry. I got all my
weapons from her and was always happy to give her a hand by trying
out prototypes.

“Of course. She’s got a really nice line of
heels now. You should have a look. There’s a killer pair of purple
stiletto gladiators.”

I practically salivated at that. Again, I was
so not a fan of heels, but I would totally make an exception for
purple stiletto gladiators. Who wouldn’t?

Dex was waiting out front with the car, so we
both slid into the back. “Hey Dex,” I said with a little smile. I
was tempted to make some kind of stupid joke about him chauffeuring
us but figured it was inappropriate.

“Good morning, ladies. You’re both looking
lovely today.” Dex smiled at us in the rear view mirror as he
pulled into London traffic.

The ride was a quiet one. I guess we all had
things to think about. I imagined Dex and Kabita were thinking
about their cousin. I was thinking about Alison, too, but for a
different reason.

Thanks to the vast number of crime shows on
TV these days, it was a pretty well known fact that murderers often
showed up at the funerals of their murder victims. Sometimes it was
out of guilt, sometimes because they liked to see the damage they’d
caused.

I ran my fingers over the smooth scale I’d
tucked into the pocket of my dress. If the murderer was really a
dragon, did that change things? It wasn’t like a dragon could show
up at a funeral in broad daylight. Someone was bound notice. I gave
a wry smile at the thought of a giant lizard with wings suddenly
appearing in the middle of London.

I still wasn’t entirely convinced Alison had
been murdered by dragons. Things just didn’t add up. I only hoped
Alister didn’t go all Exterminator. He had seemed perfectly happy
to blame the dragons until I pointed out the little flaws in his
theory. Even then, I wasn’t sure he’d given up on the dragon angle
entirely.

Dragons. I still couldn’t believe they
actually still existed. Maybe. It was nuts.

More nuts than a perfectly normal human
getting killed by a vampire and waking up with superpowers?
my
own mind taunted. I ignored that inner voice and went back to
rubbing the warmth of the dragon scale between my fingers and
staring out the window. I preferred dealing with the weirdness
around me to the weirdness inside me. It was easier that way.

***

I recognized the cemetery immediately. No
way. “Alison is being buried in Highgate?”

“Of course,” Dex said from the front seat.
“MI8 always buries their operatives in Highgate. Our family has
vaults here, too.”

Maybe it was macabre of me, but I’d always
thought the Circle Vaults of Highgate Cemetery were incredibly
cool. I’d meant to come on a tour one day, but had never gotten
around to it before I left London. It sucked that the only reason
I’d made it this time was because someone had died. There was
probably a lesson in that.

I turned to Kabita. “You OK?” Stupid
question. We were about to attend her cousin’s funeral. How could
anything be OK?

She shrugged. “It’s strange. We were so close
as children, but I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years. I feel
like I’m attending the funeral of a stranger. As if the Alison I
knew and loved died decades ago.”

As we got out of the car I looped my left arm
through her right one. I knew we were both armed, but while she
could fight equally well with either hand, I was very right
handed.

“We’ve got some time before the service. Why
don’t we take a stroll?” I suggested. I figured a walk through the
tranquillity of the grounds would do us both some good and Kabita
always enjoyed a good walk.

We strolled into the cemetery arm in arm. It
was a beautiful place full of trees and winding paths, stone
archways and vine covered grave markers. We strolled up the
Egyptian Avenue, its tall columns glowing golden in the late
morning sun. It felt like we should be entering a temple at Karnack
instead of a cemetery in London.

The light dimmed as we passed under the
archway into the long passageway. Though opened to the sky, the
passage was lined with trees which partially blocked the sun only
allowing a little light to trickle through the leaves.

We kept walking, passing weeping angels
wrapped in ivy, vaults cracked with time, crosses lost in
vegetation. Highgate Cemetery was old and it felt every minute of
its age. I absolutely loved it.

“So, tell me about your family.” When in
doubt, blunt worked.

Kabita’s arm tensed in mine. Then she
shrugged and heaved a sigh. “You probably noticed Dad and I don’t
exactly get along.”

“Yeah.” My tone was wry. “I definitely
noticed that. Has it always been that way with you two?”

“Pretty much. I mean, it was OK when I was
younger. I didn’t see much of him. Mom hated London. Still does.
So, she stayed in Malaysia and raised us while Dad stayed in
London. He’d come out two or three times a year to visit. Bring us
presents and tell us stories of his adventures with MI8.”

“Your mom knew about MI8 and all the monster
stuff?” I asked in amazement. It wasn’t something that got tossed
about much. My mom definitely didn’t know about the monster stuff
and I planned on keeping it that way. The very thought of her
finding out made me shudder in horror.

“Yeah. Her family and Dad’s have been tied
together for generations. My mother is a Gupta. Gupta, in Hindi,
means ‘protector.’”

Seriously cool. “Your mother’s family are
Hunters?”

“That is one of their functions, yes. My
mother’s family moved from India to Malaysia when the native
Hunters were wiped out during a plague. The islands needed new
Hunters and the Guptas were the best.”

“And your father? How did he and your mother
end up together?”

She paused in front of grave marker. The
marble had been carved to look like a woman sleeping on plush
cushions, her beautiful face peaceful. Age had worn the edges soft,
making her look almost real.

“They had a sort of arranged marriage.
Unusual for an Englishman, I know, but I guess they hoped that a
Jones and a Gupta would create a super Hunter of sorts so the two
families agreed.”

I must have looked surprised because she
laughed. “I know. It’s ridiculous, but that’s what they were
hoping.”

“Well, you’re damn good at hunting, but I
wouldn’t have pegged you as a super Hunter. What about your
brothers?”

She shook her head. “No. None of us are super
anything. My brothers hunt, but none of them are natural born. And
me ... ” her voice trailed off.

I frowned. “What about you?” I knew she
wasn’t a Hunter the same way I was. Though she was damn good at
hunting down demons.

“It backfired. I was born a natural, but not
a natural Hunter. I was born a natural Witch.”

I already knew she was a natural Witch so
that didn’t come as a surprise, but her comment about the backfire
sure did. “What do you mean? Don’t Witches run in your family?”
That was the usual way. It was rare for a natural Witch to be born
to a non-Witch family.

Her face hardened and she continued down the
path, pulling me along with her. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. What I
do know is that the Jones’s were instrumental during the Witch
Trials and pushed for so many of the Witches to be hanged or
burned. They were the ones who set up the charter preventing
witches, whether natural born or religious, from joining MI8. And
they’re still trying to persecute Witches today. My father is their
driving force.”