Kissed by Fire

by Shéa MacLeod

  Kissed by Fire

  Book Two of the Sunwalker Saga

  By Shéa MacLeod

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2011 by Shéa MacLeod/Pamela Meliza

  Published 2011 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: Lauren Dee

  Formatted by: LK Campbell

  Thanks as ever to my fabulous critique partners Lois and Tamra, and to my beta reader, Bonnie. The ass kicking were worth it, don’t you think?

  And thanks to my dad who said, “Why can’t dragons have a conclave at midnight on Hadrian’s Wall?” Why not, indeed.

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

  For Elizabeth

  On her birthday.

  Chapter One

  I remember the first time I saw a demon. Who would forget that, right? It’s actually easier to forget than you might think.

  I was crouched behind a dumpster outside of my office as it, the demon, laughed like a maniac while the place burned to the ground. It was pretty much exactly as one might imagine a demon to be: spiky horns, leathery skin, smoke billowing out of its nostrils.

  My boss at the time, the Dragon Lady (Not her real name, of course, but protecting the not-so-innocent and all that), didn’t see it. Too busy cussing out the firemen who also didn’t see it.

  Of course, that was all before I was attacked by a vampire, died, then came back to life with super powers, so I sort of blew the whole thing off. Hello? Would you want to admit, even to yourself, that you’d just watched a seven foot tall demon that looked something like a giant fire-breathing horny toad burn your office down?

  I think not. Talk about a one way ticket to the Funny Farm.

  The thing about demons was that most people couldn’t see them. Not because they were invisible or anything, but because people didn’t want to see them. Seeing them would mean admitting the monsters were real.

  Granted, there were plenty of demons out there that people could see just fine. That was because they looked exactly like you and me. Only one tiny difference: they had no souls. They looked human, but underneath there was nothing human at all. Most of the world’s most infamous serial killers were actually demons. Word was, Jack the Ripper was a demon. Which was probably why there was a very specific sub-type of demon named after him.

  That was the type of demon I was hunting tonight, a Ripper demon. Which kind of sucked. Easy to track a giant red guy with horns and a forked tail, not so easy to track a guy who looked just like every other guy. Until he started killing.

  This particular demon had the bad habit of seducing women and then eating them for lunch. Not all of them. Just the juicy bits. He’d left a trail of disembowelled corpses across most of Canada. The Canadian authorities were not pleased, but there wasn’t a whole lot they could do about it. He was on my turf, now.

  I’d just entered an alleyway down in one of the dingier areas of Portland when my leg started vibrating. I snaked my phone out of my pocket.

  “What?” I hissed. I had no idea how good the demon’s hearing was. I wasn’t about to tip him off because somebody wanted to chat.

  “How’s the hunt going?” Inigo Jones, my best friend’s cousin and the bane of my existence. OK, not really, but I had been avoiding him due to libido issues. That and some weird hinky stuff that had been going down between us. I didn’t like stuff I couldn’t explain. And, yes, I knew how ridiculous that sounded coming from a badass monster hunter like me.

  “It’s going fine.” I would have snarled but that would have made too much noise. I edged my way along the wall of the building where Kabita’s government contacts had told her the demon was nesting. Unlike vampires, many types of demons liked sunlight and this one had gone straight to the top. I was planning to hit the fire escape if Inigo would get off the phone and let me do my job. “What do you want, Inigo?”

  “Touchy, touchy,” he laughed.

  I hated it when he laughed. It did things to me. Things that made my insides feel like butterflies were having a disco.

  “I’m kind of busy here.”

  “I just thought you might want a little help,” he said.

  Help? From Inigo? In the middle of the day? My eyes narrowed. “It’s broad daylight. Why are you even out of bed?” My fingers touched cold steel. The fire escape was all the way down. Somebody up there had me on her nice list.

  “Couldn’t sleep. Besides, this demon hunting thing is usually Kabita’s gig, not yours; thought you might want some help.” His voice wasn’t particularly deep, but it had this slightly edgy quality which reminded me of rock anthems and tiramisu with lots of rum. Shivers danced up and down my spine and into lower places which I firmly ignored.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got it covered.” I turned off the phone and shoved it in my pocket.

  He was right, of course. Kabita was the demon girl. I was more into vamps. And Sunwalkers. But that was a whole lot of weird I didn’t want to think about. Hunting demons was a good way to take your mind off things. Things like super sexy Sunwalkers who used to be Templar Knights. Like Jackson Keel, the other bane of my existence.

  I shoved the thought of Jack aside and pulled myself up onto the first rung of the fire escape. No mean feat since it was one of those old metal ladder things bolted to the side of the building. Technically, the first rung was supposed to be a good eight or ten feet off the ground, but someone had obviously screwed up the specs since this one was only about five feet up. That meant I could reach it, but barely. It took some doing, but I got there.

  I worked my way up, my rubber soled boots silent on the metal rungs. I made sure nothing metallic scraped against the ladder. The last thing I needed to do was alert the demon that he was about to become puppy chow.

  I carefully poked my head up over the wall and scanned the roof. No demon, but there was a small square structure next to the door leading from the roof. It looked like some kind of storage shed. Bingo.

  I hauled myself up over the lip of the wall and onto the roof itself. I actually managed not to sprawl face first. Points to me.

  A gentle wind teased strands of silky red hair across my face and the sun stabbed hot rays into my eyes. I squinted against the glare wishing I’d remembered to bring my sunglasses. I was always forgetting those things.

  I tested the doorknob on the shack door. It turned. Obviously the demon thought he was safe enough on the top of a twenty story building.

  I pulled a machete from its sheath across my back. I’d replaced my favored sword for the more demon un-friendly machete. It might not be pretty, but it got the job done. Sometimes you forget about being pretty and just go with what works.

  The door opened easily. Not a single squeak from the well-oiled hinges. He might leave a royal mess behind him, but this demon knew how to keep house. Then the smell hit me.

  “Holy crap. What the heck is that?” I tried holding my breath, but the smell was everywhere, the cloying stench of rotting flesh and punctured bowels. I tried to breathe through my mouth to avoid the worst of the smell.

  Yep, I’d found the Ripper’s nest all right. There were human rib cages decorating the
walls and the floor was smeared with dried blood. Leg bones dangled from the ceiling like macabre Christmas ornaments and skulls lined shelves, bits of flesh still clinging in places. “Nasty.”

  I’d like to be able to say I was sick to my stomach or grossed out or something because that would make me sound normal, but after three years hunting vampires and other monsters my life was anything but normal. I’d seen just as bad and smelled worse.

  It was the rattle of a pebble against the roof that alerted me. I didn’t turn. I hit the floor. Then I turned. Good thing or my head would have been added to the decor as what looked like the building’s fire axe smacked into the doorjamb where my head had been a moment before.

  He looked human, all right. Probably would have been considered handsome, too, if not for the blood soaking his clothes and the other bits of goo on his shoes. That and the fact that his jaw had unhinged like a snake’s, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth. So not attractive.

  I rolled to the side, jumping to my feet as he ripped the axe out of the doorjamb. He hissed at me, long threads of pink saliva dripping from his teeth.

  The pink was blood. He’d eaten recently. Hopefully, it would slow him down.

  He rushed me, axe in one hand, massive claws sprouting from the other. Shit, just what I needed. I darted to the side to avoid both axe and claws, at the same time slashing him across the back with my machete.

  Black blood seeped from the shallow cut. His skin was thicker than I’d thought. His hiss told me I’d pissed him off more than anything.

  We danced around the roof, hacking and chopping at each other. I could barely keep up and I was tiring.

  Then he caught me right in the stomach. Fortunately it was backhanded so he didn’t pierce skin, but I went flying across the rooftop, smashed into the brick wall and slid down into a heap. I hadn’t felt pain like that since that night three years ago. The night I died.

  I struggled to get to my feet, but my body refused to cooperate. “Gods dammit,” I hissed, clutching my right side. I’d bet anything I’d cracked a rib or two.

  Then the Ripper demon was standing over me, axe raised above his head. This was it. I was going to die right here on top of this building, my bones decoration for a demon’s lair. Brilliant.

  I closed my eyes and willed myself to find one last drop of strength. Instead, I found the Darkness.

  It roared up from somewhere inside me, rolling in waves through my entire body. It was broad daylight. No darkness to channel, but I could feel the burst of energy as Morgan Bailey ceased to exist and became simply a vessel for the Darkness.

  It screamed, and the demon’s eyes widened, suddenly realizing I wasn’t alone in my skin. There was Something in there with me.

  That hesitation was enough. With the Darkness riding me, I rolled away just as he brought the axe down, burying it in the roof.

  Before he could yank the axe free, I jumped to a crouch and slashed up and out with my machete. It caught him in the midriff. Talk about spilling your guts.

  Black blood poured out of the wound to join the human blood on his T-shirt. He screamed, but it was a gurgling sound which meant I’d hit a lung. More points to me.

  I rolled to the side and with a quick hack of the blade took out his Achilles. The minute he collapsed onto the rooftop, I shoved my machete straight through his heart, burying it up to the hilt. Then I hit him full-blast with an aerosol can full of holy water.

  Good thing we were twenty stories up because I was pretty sure his shrieking would deafen the most hardy of souls. It was not a pretty sound and it sent chills down my spine.

  The Darkness was another matter. It loved that sound and I felt it throw my head back and scream for joy right along with the dying demon.

  His skin shrivelled and blackened, then began to bubble and melt. Holy water didn’t work on vamps, but it was like battery acid to demons. I gave him another good spray and watched him scream and gurgle while he sizzled away to nothing.

  When all that was left was a gooey stain, I closed my eyes and willed the Darkness back. It didn’t want to go, but I’d gotten better at controlling it so it finally faded back into that place inside me where it lived.

  I pulled out my phone and hit speed dial before sinking down onto the roof. With the Darkness gone I could feel every ache and bruise. Shit, I was tired.

  “Yeah.” Kabita was her usual brusque self.

  “It’s finished. Better send a crew, though. He left a mess.”

  She was silent a moment. “Done. Now get back here. We have some things to discuss.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” My voice was ever just so slight snarky.

  I thought for half a second about taking the elevator down, but one look at myself convinced me otherwise. I was splattered with demon goo and streaked with blood. Not a good idea to upset the natives. I headed for the fire escape instead, my ribs protesting all the way down. The Darkness had healed any cracks, but they were still plenty sore.

  Back on terra firma, I turned the car toward the office. I probably should have cleaned up first, but Kabita had sounded like sooner would be a lot better than later. She’d just have to deal with the goo.

  ***

  “You’re dripping blood on my carpet. Again.”

  “Well, at least this time it’s black. That’s a change,” I said, pulling my shirt out away from my body and eyeballing the damage. Demon blood was often black or green. No idea why.

  Kabita glared at me before tossing me a box of wet wipes. “Yes.” Her voice was dry as dust. “That’s such an improvement.”

  I shrugged and threw her a cheeky grin. “I do my best.”

  “Maybe you should buy yourself a tiara.” Kabita smirked at me, but there was something odd behind her eyes. Maybe I was just imagining it, but something felt off.

  “Very funny,” I snapped back with my fiercest glare. “Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean I’m not perfectly capable of murdering you in your sleep.”

  Kabita Jones wasn’t just my best friend, she was also my boss at the private investigative firm where we both worked. Of course it wasn’t a real private investigation firm. The whole PI thing was actually a front for our true work: hunting and killing vampires, demon spawn, and the other monsters that liked to snack on poor, innocent humans. Like the Ripper demon I’d just hunted down.

  Murdering her was probably a bad idea since it would leave me out of a job. Plus there was that whole illegal factor. I was pretty sure our government liaison, Trevor Daly, would be less than thrilled, not that I cared too terribly much what he thought. Maybe thumping her over the head would be a good substitute.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  Damn, I hated it when she read my mind. I settled for the Glare of Death instead of physical violence. I curled one foot under me and sank back into the buttery soft faux leather chair with a slight wince as my ribs protested. I leaned back carefully, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Do you have to put your boots on my chair? They’re probably covered in something incredibly disgusting.”

  She was right, of course. More than likely I had demon goo on my boots, but I shrugged and glared some more. I knew she hated it when I put my feet on her chairs, but damned if I was moving an inch. She deserved it for all the flack she’d given me lately about the whole royal princess business. Was it my fault I was supposedly the descendent of some ancient Atlantean prince?

  “You’re the one who sent me demon hunting, so deal. Besides, I’m royal. I can do what I want.” I couldn’t help teasing her just a bit.

  She rolled her eyes and propped her elbow on the wide mahogany desk, chin in hand. “So, you really are some sort of princess? I mean, this is for real?“

  “Yeah, looks like it’s true,” I admitted. I wasn’t too thrilled about it either. As if my life wasn’t complicated enough.

  “You’re a descendant of a prince. Of Atlantis. As in the lost city of?” Her voice matched her expression — sceptical. “Th
at’s about the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard. And I’ve heard some weird stuff.”

  “Well, I’m of the Royal Bloodline anyway, or so Jack says, and I guess he would know.” Jackson Keel was our resident Sunwalker and former Templar Knight. Emphasis on the ‘former.’ As in nine hundred years former, give or take a century.

  According to him I was not only a descendent of the Royal Bloodline of Atlantis, but also a quite-possibly-immortal Sunwalker. I wasn’t entirely sure I bought the whole thing, but whatever. When someone insisted you were a Royal Princess, best thing to do was just humor the crazy person.

  “I am not calling you ‘your majesty’. I don’t care how royal you are.” The sarcasm was back in her voice, but the shadows still lurked in her eyes.

  “Call me ‘your majesty’ and I’ll show you just what a royal pain in the ass I can be.” Not that I needed to work that hard at it, mind you.

  She snorted. “Well, if you can spare a minute for us peasants, I’ve got a job for you.”

  “I might be able to work something out,” I said with an airy wave of my hand. “But you know we royals are just so busy what with throwing people in dungeons and the daily floggings. Not to mention the weekly beheadings.”

  Kabita snorted. “Yeah, whatever. Listen.” She shoved a file across the desk. “Trevor Daly was in this morning and brought me this.”

  I rolled my eyes. Trevor, despite being seriously gorgeous, was a royal pain in the ass if I ever met one, but I took the file anyway. That was the deal. The government paid us big bucks, we did what they wanted. Mostly.

  “There’s a Keres loose in the neighborhood,” she continued.

  My eyebrows went up. “No kidding?” Keres were death spirits. Incredibly rare and incredibly difficult to kill. It usually took a witch. A witch like Kabita.