by Shéa MacLeod
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The air was heavy with damp. It was autumn and a tiny chill wormed its way beneath my jacket. It had been cold then, too. October and the leaves had crunched under my feet.
As I started down the street, memories came flooding back. The scent of hearth fires mingling with dry leaves, the kiss of the wind on my cheeks, the sound of my footsteps sharp on the pavement.
Something heavy slammed into my left side. I flew through the air, smashing into my neighbor’s stonework wall. I actually heard my own ribs snap. The pain made me gag.
I paused. My hands were shaking slightly and my breath came in quick gasps as pain lanced through my side. It was like I was living it all over again. I pressed my hand to my side and the phantom pain dissipated.
I realized I was standing next to that very stone wall, the same one that had snapped my ribs when I crashed into it. I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and placed my palm against the cold stone. Memories flooded back.
My mind struggled to make sense of the fact that I was now lying on the freezing cold ground feeling like I’d been rammed by a truck. Making a little mewling sound in my throat, I groped for my handbag. Everything had spilled out across the pavement. My fingers skittered through lipstick tubes and pens. My phone. Where was it? I needed to call … someone.
I gripped the top of the wall so hard I nearly broke a nail. It was a memory. Just a memory, but I couldn’t stop it.
I felt the fangs go right into the jugular. It hurt more than anything. The pain ripped through me worse than the broken ribs or the head trauma. I would have screamed, but I had no breath. My hands fluttered against him, trying to beat him off, but I had no strength. His clawed hands squeezed my throat shut, and he slammed my head into the wall again.
The world went black and there was no more pain and no more blood and no more fear. There was only the sound of my heart beating slower and slower and slower. Then it stopped.
I sucked in a deep breath of cold night air, shoving back the memories and the pain that came with them. As I did I caught the faintest whiff of something underneath the normal scents of the city.
The truth was that vampires smelled no different than people. They retained the same scent in undeath as they carried in life and my lovely super powers allowed me to detect those odors most people would miss. On top of that was the more metaphysical thing that went along with my other fun Spidey senses. A sort of psychic aroma marking each vamp.
I took another deep breath. There it was again. Very faint, but I knew that scent. I’d never forget it. It was the scent of the vampire who’d killed me.
Still shaking, I made my way further down the street, following that faint odor trail. After three years, there wouldn’t be any sign of my attacker left. It would have been washed away long ago, which meant he’d been here recently. Hunting.
Only I was a Hunter now, too. A smile stretched across my face. Deep inside me the Darkness began to laugh.
I snaked my mobile out of my pocket and dialed Kabita. “Yes?”
“I’m on the hunt. Just thought you should know.”
She hesitated. “Morgan … ”
“I have to do this.” I hung up then switched off the phone. I wanted nothing to interfere with this hunt.
As I moved further down the street, I mentally did a weapons check. I had only one blade. It was strapped to my right ankle. No gun. I did have a garrotte hidden in my belt for emergencies. It was the sort that could decapitate a vamp, but it meant I’d have to get in close.
Then there was the special aerosol can. It held an experimental liquid. Part holy water, part silver particles and part salt, meant to work against both demons and vamps. I’d never tried it before but now was as good a time as any.
I paused in the shadows of the next tree. I could still catch his scent teasing at my nose like a trail of cigarette smoke. Decidedly unpleasant, but also unmistakeable. I couldn’t feel that itching at the base of my skull, so I knew he wasn’t close, but he had been.
I paused in front of the giant wrought iron gates leading into the park. Of course over here they called it a “Recreation Commons.” Which was pretty much a snazzy way of saying “park.”
The gates were locked since it was well past sunset. I glanced up and down the shadowy street. The houses were mostly dark, the occasional shaft of light spilling from an open window. I didn’t see anyone around, though I could hear the faint click click of high heels on pavement from further up the street. The sounds were fading, so I figured it was as safe as it was going to get.
The gate was one of those double sided things that arched up in the middle and then curved down lower at the sides so that it was only a little higher than my head. I gave a little hop and grabbed the crossbar at the top of the gate closest to the wall. Using the brick wall for leverage, I scrambled up and onto the top of the gate.
I managed to turn around and lower myself down the other side without falling on my head. I leaned up against the wall for a minute to make sure no one had seen me before heading into the park.
I’d never been in the park at night. Even though, vampires aside, the neighborhood a safe one, it just wasn’t something a smart girl like me did. I’d had no idea there wasn’t any lighting. It just wasn’t something I’d noticed.
I did now. The deeper I moved into the park, the darker it got. Especially around the pathways where there were large clusters of trees. Still, I couldn’t sense any vampires so I kept moving, following the faint scent of my killer.
It felt a little weird referring to him like that, seeing as I was up and moving around just fine and obviously not dead. But that’s exactly what he was: my killer.
About halfway through the park, just as I passed the tennis courts, the scent trail grew a little stronger. I paused to take a deeper breath. Yeah, definitely stronger, but still not a recent trail. It was as though he used this part of the park more often and left his imprint on it.
My palms grew warm and began to itch and tingle. That same feeling of electricity I’d had when I touched the dragon scale. I rubbed them against my jeans, trying to get rid of the strange sensation. It didn’t work, so I ignored it and moved on.
Hoops swayed slightly in the breeze sending eerie shadows dancing across the abandoned basketball court. The chains made the faintest chink chink as the wind tangled them together. I’d never much liked this part of the park. There’d always been lots of teenage boys around with their saggy jeans and hoodies and aggressive behavior. Maybe it was a stereotype, but like I said, no sense taking chances.
Of course these days I faced much worse than gangs of teenaged hoodies with foul mouths and chips on their shoulders. Not to mention, I carried bigger knives.
Up on my right was the entrance to the cemetery. Back home, cemeteries tended to be huge affairs covering several acres. They had posh on-site mortuary services and full time grounds keepers. In London, cemeteries were usually small, comprising an acre or less. There were no full time grounds keepers and mortuary services were usually done in a storefront in town. There were exceptions, of course, like Highgate Cemetery, but generally the rule held.
This was an older cemetery, so it was nearly full. There were only a few empty places up near the road where the grounds keeper’s building loomed up out of the darkness.
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 buildi
ng 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.
Chapter Six
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 fron
t 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.