Kissed by Smoke

Book Three of the

Copyright © 2011 by Shéa MacLeod/Pamela Meliza

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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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.

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 private
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.”