Kissed by Smoke Read online

  Kissed by Smoke

  Book Three of the

  Sunwalker Saga

  Shéa MacLeod

  Copyright © 2011 by Shéa MacLeod/Pamela Meliza

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Published by Sunwalker Press, London, UK

  The right of Shéa MacLeod/Pamela Meliza to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons either living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art: Amanda Kelsey

  Cover Model: Anaïs Gryspeirt

  Makeup Artist: Magdalena Stankowska

  Edited by: Tamra Westberry and M. Edward McNally

  Formatted by: CyberWitch Press

  Thanks as always to my critique partners Lois and PJ, and to my beta reader, Bonnie. Your questions, comments, and screams of moral outrage are invaluable.

  Thanks also to my uncle Jim, a retired Police Chief, for the insight into Madras funeral homes, suspicious deaths, and tribal shamans. Any screw ups are entirely my fault.

  Please visit Shéa MacLeod at http://sheamacleod.wordpress.com/

  There’s nothing quite like knowing you’ve found a place where you belong. Where your own personal crazy is nothing compared to the collective crazy and everyone loves you just the way you are.

  To my tribe:

  Jack

  Heather

  PJ

  Ed

  Julia

  Lizzy

  Talia

  Alan

  Live long and write hard.

  “Always and Ever”

  For the real Kabita.

  Chapter One

  The spray of warm blood hit me full in the face.

  Gross. Seriously gross. I swiped at it, clearing away the arterial spray. Probably leaving an almighty mess behind.

  The vampire I was currently trying to kill had obviously just fed, otherwise the blood would have been cold. Not sure which was worse, to be honest, warm and sticky or cold and coagulated.

  At least this particular vamp wouldn’t be sucking anyone’s blood anymore. I smirked while his hands clutched his throat as the red liquid poured down the front of his white shirt.

  Eyes wide, he staggered back, stumbling over the uneven ground in his attempt to get away. Not that it would do him any good. I hopped down from the low retaining wall which had given me just the right amount of height to slit his throat. Slowly I stalked him deeper into the park. I was feeling particularly nasty tonight. Sort of PMS-on-crack.

  “No point running.” The voice was my own, but the taunt came from somewhere deep inside me where the Darkness lived. I shut it down, quick. This was an ordinary hunt. I didn’t need the Darkness.

  It snarled back. I ignored it. It was a little game we played these days, the Darkness and me.

  “You know you won’t survive the blood loss. Let me end it for you,” I coaxed.

  The only answer was a gurgle. The vamp swayed on his feet, barely keeping upright, as his stolen life force leaked out onto the ground. One more step backward and he collapsed under a tree. The shadows were deep there and I couldn’t see him clearly, even with my superior night vision.

  I was pretty sure he was down for the count, but still I approached cautiously. I’d been a Hunter long enough to know better than to go rushing into somewhere I couldn’t see. It was a good way to get dead.

  I was right. The vamp was down. He didn’t even have the strength to keep his hand clamped to his throat any longer. Not that it mattered. The gush of blood had slowed to a trickle which meant he’d nearly finished bleeding out.

  Unless some idiot came wandering through the park and happened to trip and fall on the vamp’s fangs, there was no way he was going to survive. Still, it wouldn’t do to leave the trash lying about.

  I knelt down beside him. Glassy eyes stared at me, begging me. For what? Not to kill him?

  His lips formed a word: “please.” I frowned. Something moved behind his eyes. Something more human than the monster he was now. He formed the word again.

  Maybe he wanted me to kill him after all. Stranger things in heaven and earth. Though I would definitely rather be dead than turned vampire, most vamps didn’t agree with that line of logic.

  I didn’t pull out a wooden stake. I had a better way of doing things these days.

  I placed my palm flat against his chest where there should have been a heartbeat. Looking into his eyes I whispered something I never dreamed I’d say to a vampire. “Go with the gods.”

  The look on his face was strangely peaceful. At odds with the pool of blood surrounding us.

  I closed my eyes and let the Fire loose. It burned through me, turning my blood to rivers of molten lava. The relief of letting it free was nearly orgasmic. I threw my head back as flame burst from my skin to encompass the vampire and turn him to ash in seconds. He didn’t even have time to feel the pain.

  But I did.

  The Fire didn’t hurt me. It was heat and light, but it didn’t burn. I was its vessel. But for the first time I felt his pain. The pain of the soul that had been trapped inside the vampire. A soul I’d just set free.

  I’d never felt that before. After all, the vamps no longer had souls. Or at least, they weren’t supposed to.

  For a long time I sat there, tears running down my face. I sat there until the wind came and gently blew the ash away.

  ***

  The sun had barely kissed the horizon when I arrived back at the office. Still, Kabita was already at her desk, ink-black hair scraped back in a long braid, nose to the proverbial grindstone.

  “What the hell?” Kabita’s office was wall-to-wall plastic, drop cloths everywhere. Even the side of her mahogany desk was draped in the stuff. “Are you redecorating or something?”

  “I’m trying to prevent you from destroying my carpet again.” She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, and gave me an arch look.

  I glanced down at my perfectly clean clothing. “I showered before I came to the office this time.”

  “So I see.” Kabita’s voice dripped with disgust.

  Me, I was highly amused. I’d destroyed her carpet at least twice. Bloodstains were nearly impossible to get out of cream carpet. Especially when they were vampire bloodstains. Those were particularly nasty.

  I flopped into one of the visitor chairs, the plastic making a crinkling sound underneath me. I ignored it and flung one leg over the arm of the chair, letting my boot dangle.

  “Honestly, Morgan, you are just about the most un-ladylike person I know.”

  I shrugged and popped a stick of gum in my mouth. Spearmint. My favorite. “I hunt vampires for a living. Ladylike isn’t in the job description.” Thank the gods for small miracles. Not that I couldn’t fake it when necessary, but why bother?

  She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve got something for you. Hand delivered. Very mysterious.” She held out a small cream-colored envelope.

  Everything was mysterious in our business. The sign on the door said that this place was a privat
e investigation firm, but that was just a front. In reality, we were government subcontractors for a branch of the Environmental Protection Agency called the Supernatural Regulatory Agency. We dealt with the supernatural: Demons, vampires, and most recently, the murder of an MI8 agent. Paranormal mercenaries, if you will. It was all very hush-hush. A hand-delivered letter wasn’t especially mysterious, though it was unusual.

  I reached over and took the envelope from Kabita. My name, Morgan Bailey, was scrawled across the front in bold, black lettering. I didn’t recognize the handwriting, but that didn’t mean much. Between texting, email, and instant messaging, I hardly recognized my own handwriting.

  The envelope contained a single sheet of lined paper which didn’t match the snazzy envelope. Probably not a woman, then. I frowned at the message then laughed. “It’s from Trevor. His version of a birthday card. Listen to this. ‘Sorry I didn’t have time to buy a card, but I wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday. You’re the best little sister a guy could ask for.’ Isn’t that sweet?”

  “Very sweet. Why didn’t he just send you an e-card like a normal person?”

  “Nothing beats a handwritten note.” Dear gods, I sounded like my mother. Before I could say anything else, my cell phone vibrated letting me know I had a text. “Huh. This is weird. Trevor wants to meet me at the cafe in Warm Springs tomorrow. Business.”

  Warm Springs was nearly an hour-and-a-half away, on Reservation land. Not exactly a hot spot for a business meeting and well out of SRA jurisdiction. The tribal elders had their own ways of dealing with the paranormal.

  “Does he say why?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Just that lives may depend on it.”

  Meet me tomorrow. 1pm. Warm Springs Cafe. Keep this on the down low. Lives may depend on it. Bring the Darkness.

  “That’s a bit weird. Even for our friendly government liaison,” Kabita said with a slight frown.

  “No kidding.” If the government needed our services, Trevor usually called or showed up on our doorstep. He did not send cryptic texts.

  I tried to send him a reply, but it bounced back unsent. That was odd. I tried ringing instead, but it went straight to voicemail. Worry snaked its way up my spine.

  “Are you going?”

  I sighed. I so did not look forward to the drive. “Of course I am. It could be important.” Not to mention the comment at the end of the note. It wasn’t like I could leave the Darkness at home, but it was obviously Trevor’s way of telling me things might be dangerous and to watch my back. Fabulous.

  I’d finally told Kabita about my abilities to channel Darkness and Fire. After everything that had gone down in London and what had happened with Inigo, I knew I couldn’t keep it from her any longer. Besides, with what she’d been hiding from me, she didn’t have a right to get mad at me keeping things from her. A fact I’d quickly pointed out to her, just in time to keep her from going ballistic.

  Kabita was not one to forgive and forget, generally, but with the little matter of Inigo’s parentage to wave over her head, I convinced her. Well, with that and a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies. What can I say? I like to bake.

  Kabita frowned. “Warm Springs Cafe? It’s not exactly next door. And why the Reservation? Seems like an odd place for a meeting. Are you sure the text is from Trevor?”

  “Yes, it’s from him,” I confirmed. “As for Warm Springs, it’s quiet. Out of the way.” And not under US jurisdiction.

  “Good place for an ambush,” she pointed out. “Maybe somebody kidnapped him and is making him send you mysterious texts to lure you out there.” She sounded almost hopeful over the kidnapping part.

  I gave her a look. “Seriously? Are you mental?” The very idea was ludicrous. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that despite the weirdness, this was important. “I know someone who might offer some invaluable insight.”

  Kabita’s brow went up. “Cordy?”

  I nodded. “Cordy. Since Trevor isn’t answering his damn phone, maybe she can use her otherworldly connections to tell me a little more about the message.” Cordelia Nightwing’s psychic abilities were often more hazy than helpful, but it was worth a try.

  “It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?”

  I shrugged. Cordy kept odd hours. No doubt her unearthly contacts had already told her I was on the way. “I’ll text you when I’m done and we can have breakfast at Lola’s.” I was craving pancakes in a big way.

  “Sounds good to me.” Kabita rustled about in her desk drawer before pulling out a small Zip-Loc baggie. “Here. You’ll need this.”

  I caught the baggie midair. Inside was some kind of dried, greenish herb. Not that I was an expert, but it looked suspiciously like pot. I gave her a look. “Don’t tell me this is … ”

  “Catnip.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Bastet will be your best friend.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Just what I’ve always dreamed of.”

  She smirked. Bloody woman.

  Chapter Two

  Cordelia Nightwing still lived in her cramped one-bedroom apartment at the edge of the Park Blocks area downtown. And it was just as jammed with stuff as the last time I’d been there. Possibly more so. I was pretty sure the Ming-inspired vase perched precariously on top the bookshelf was a new addition.

  “Morgan! I haven’t seen you in ages!” There was the usual round of hugs, exclamation marks, swirling silk and clouds of perfume. Today’s robe was of the sapphire blue variety which matched her eyes. A golden dragon was embroidered across the back, and there were tiny gold dragons on the red chopsticks stabbed through the bun on top her head. Interesting, knowing what I did about her sister’s connection to the dragon race.

  “Love the robe, Cordelia. Where’d you get it?” She’d never mentioned her sister, the Dragon Child. I wondered if she’d do it now. If she even realized I knew.

  She completely ignored the question and hurried down the hall to the living room. “Bastet has been talking about you non-stop for the past week. She’ll be thrilled to see you.”

  “I bet.” Especially once she found the catnip in my pocket. Yeah, that’s right. Bastet was a cat. Apparently she talked to Cordelia. I wasn’t sure if Cordy was just plain nuts, or if the damn cat actually talked. Honestly? I wouldn’t put it past her. The cat, I mean.

  Bastet was on her usual perch: sprawled over the mountain of decorative pillows on the couch. She gave me a baleful look through slitted eyes. Also as per usual. I didn’t care what Cordy claimed, I knew that cat hated me.

  Cordelia dropped gracefully into the only available chair, sending a perilously balanced deck of tarot cards flying. “Oh, dear.” She leaned over the chair arm and peered down at them. “Never mind. I’ll get them later. Tea?”

  Cordy was always fully armed with tea. I accepted a cup of the stuff to be polite. Honestly, I preferred a nice strong coffee any day.

  “I’ve got a present for Bastet.”

  “Oh, she’ll be so thrilled!” Cordy clapped her hands together. “What is it?”

  I pulled out the plastic baggie.

  “Pot?” She frowned.

  Glad I wasn’t the only one. “Uh. No. Catnip.”

  She brightened. “How fun. She’ll love it!”

  I glanced at Bastet who was still glaring at me. I had my doubts about that.

  I peeled open the bag and edged it closer to the cat. She gave it a slight sniff, gave me a dirty look, then turned her back on me. Ungrateful wretch.

  “Yep, she definitely hates me.”

  Cordelia laughed. “She does not. She’s very pleased with your offering.”

  Offering. Like the damn cat was the goddess she was named after.

  Now, you might have gotten the idea I dislike cats. You would be wrong. I like cats fine. Bastet had an attitude problem.

  “So, tell me everything. Eddie said you were in London?” Cordy leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea. Her blue eyes twinkled. For all her
Mad Hatter persona, Cordelia Nightwing was one of the most intelligent people I knew.

  I gave her a quick rundown of my most recent adventure in London with the dragons. Up to and including the end of my romantic relationship with Jack and the beginning of one with Inigo. And then I casually finished with, “Oh, and I met your sister, Sandra.”

  Cordelia gave me an enigmatic smile. “Ah, yes. Sandra. How is she?” For all the world like we were speaking of some vague acquaintance from the Good Old Days.

  “She’s fine. Great, in fact. She left London to go hang out with one of the Dragon clans in the Scottish Highlands.”

  Cordy’s expression didn’t change. “That’s nice.” She sipped elegantly at her tea.

  I just stared at her. I swear, Cordelia had to be one of the most baffling people I’d ever met.

  “Now, Sweetness, tell me why you’ve really come. You have a question?”

  Damn. I swore the woman could read my mind. “Yes. I got a text from Trevor this morning.” I pulled out my cell and handed it to her.

  She read the text, frowned, then read it again before handing the phone back. She stared thoughtfully into her tea for what seemed like ages. Finally she thrust out her hand.

  I knew immediately what she wanted. I gulped the rest of my tea and then handed her the cup.

  She upended my cup onto its saucer, then turned it right-side-up and peered at the dregs. I’d never understood how anyone could possibly make any sense of tea leaves. They just looked like slimy brown gunk to me, but it seemed to work for her.

  “Well, obviously you should meet him,” her voice was matter-of-fact and held no hint of the airy fairy persona she often put on. “This truly is a matter of life and death.” She frowned. “Mostly death, I’m afraid.”

  “Shit. What does that mean?” I so did not like the sound of it.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Morgan. It’s not very clear to me. I only know that it is crucial you meet with Trevor tomorrow. The future depends on it.”

  Three cheers for the enigmatic.

  ***

  I stared out at the gloom beyond the window. I am not a fan of winter. I don’t mind rain, but I dislike cold and I hate the snow. And yet, I was born on a cold, winter morning in February. Go figure.