Free Kissed by Fire by Shéa MacLeod Page A

white through the trees. I took off running again this time
keeping a closer eye out for sneaky roots.
    I rounded a bend in the path just in time to
see the blond woman exit the parklands and hop into a waiting car.
It took off with a squeal of tires, leaving streaks of black behind
it. Show off.
    With a groan, I bent over to catch my breath.
As I did, I caught a familiar scent. It was the same one I’d caught
the night before. The scent of the vampire who’d killed me.
    I straightened, inhaling deeply. There it was
again. I moved along the path a little farther until it forked. The
smell was stronger down the left fork, which led deeper into the
parklands of the cemetery, disappearing inside a large grove of
trees. Left it was.
    Color me suspicious, but I found it strange
that the vampire scent had shown up in the same place as the
mysterious woman from the airport. I didn’t know what that meant,
but I sure as heck meant to find out.
    The smell got stronger as I moved along the
path, so strong I almost gagged. He was here. He had to be. There
was no way the scent could be that strong without the vampire being
very close by.
    I picked up my pace, jogging past rows of
grave stones tilted at crazy angles and statues spattered with bird
droppings. Something niggled at me. I couldn’t sense the vampire. I
could smell him, but that was a physical thing. My abilities had
nothing to do with the physical. I couldn’t understand why I could
smell him so strongly, but I couldn’t feel him. If he was so
close, I should have that whole tingly scalp pressure thing going
on. Maybe my vamp radar was on the fritz.
    I shoved the thought aside and kept going,
following the scent trail through the park, under trees and beneath
archways. It led me straight to The Circle Vaults.
    I hurried down the wide steps to the sub
ground level. The Circle Vaults reminded me a little of the
catacombs under the ruins of the Colosseum in Rome. All those
little rooms on either side of a wide hallway exposed to the
elements. I could almost imagine there had once been a floor above
them now rotted away, but they’d been built like that. It was an
odd place for a vampire to hide. Unless he’d made it into a
vault.
    The scent led me past door after ancient door
before dead ending in front of one marked ‘Sanford.’ The door was
thick oak bound with iron and older than dirt. I tried the door,
but it didn’t budge. It was locked up tight.
    “Shit!” Probably not an appropriate sentiment
for a cemetery, but I was pissed off. He was in there. Even though
I still couldn’t feel him, he had to be in there. I couldn’t
think of any other explanation.
    I yanked at the door again. As though that
would do any good. It didn’t. I could feel the anger and annoyance
boiling just below the surface; fortunately I had a good grip on
the Darkness, but my hands felt itchy and tight. I let out a scream
of frustration and slapped my palm against the wood.
    Then I jumped back with a yelp as the door
burst into flame.
    I staggered back, mouth hanging open. I must
have looked like a fish. Real attractive. But honestly, it wasn’t
every day you saw a door burst into flame for no apparent
reason.
    Except, perhaps, that I touched it.
    The fire ate at the hard oak, blackening the
wood and sending thick smoke spiralling skyward. Shouting in the
distance told me it was time to make myself scarce. I was pretty
sure I’d get the blame and how on earth was I going to explain the
fact that I’d just set a door on fire without the aid of matches or
a lighter?
    No, that was ridiculous. It couldn’t have
been me. I couldn’t have set the door on fire with nothing more
than my touch. The very idea was absurd.
    As absurd as a woman who could channel the
power of Darkness.
    Still, I could hardly deny the fact that the
door hadn’t caught fire until after I touched the wood. I’d
been so frustrated, so angry.
    Something sparked in the back of my mind. A
conversation I’d once had