Free Kissed by Fire by Shéa MacLeod Page B

with Eddie Mulligan back in his shop in
Portland. We’d been talking about my ability to channel Darkness
and he’d mentioned how once there had been people who could channel
other elements.
    Elements like fire.
    “Oh, crap,” I whispered. “Oh, this is not
good.”
    I hurried back down the path toward where I’d
left Kabita. She was still there, leaning against a tree. “No
joy?”
    “No. She had a car waiting.” I rubbed my
palms against my thighs, trying to keep them from trembling.
    She sighed. “Too bad. I wonder what she
wanted.”
    “Couldn’t have been good, her spying on us
like that.”
    She shrugged and headed toward the parking
lot. “Don’t jump to conclusions. There were more than a couple MI8
agents at the funeral today. She might have been watching any one
of them.”
    But I knew she was wrong. That woman had been
there to watch us. Or more likely, based on what I’d seen at the
airport, she’d been there to watch Kabita.
    “Dad’s throwing a wake back at his flat in
Belgravia. I figured we could pop in for a while.” I couldn’t tell
from her tone whether she had any interest in attending or not.
    I shook my head. “I really need to head back
to the hotel, do some research. And I need to call Eddie.”
    Kabita gave me a look. “It’s four thirty in
the morning back home. I don’t think he’d appreciate you calling
that time of morning.”
    Good point. I hadn’t even thought about the
eight hour time difference. I sighed. “Fine. I really do need to do
some research, though, so I don’t want to stay too long.”
    “Don’t worry.” Kabita gave me one of her
mysterious smiles. “You’ll be amazed at how much research you can
get done at one of these things.”
     
    ***
     
    “Morgan, this is Sandra Fuentes, dragon
artist.” Kabita grinned at me like a lunatic as she led me out onto
the terrace. Which meant she was about to introduce me to some
nutter and she secretly thought it was hilarious. Just great.
    “Dragon artist?”
    The woman in front of me was willow thin and
ghostly pale. Even her gray eyes were pale to the point of nearly
being colorless. The only bit of color was her hair. The straight,
silky mass fell nearly to her waist and shone rich blue black in
the sun.
    Her grip, as she shook my hand, was
surprisingly strong. Her skin, as it touched mine, gave off a
slight spark. That static electricity again. I was feeling way too
much of it lately.
    “Morgan Bailey, lovely to meet you at last.
My sister has told me so much about you.”
    I glanced from Sandra to Kabita. “Your
sister?”
    “Sandra is Cordelia Nightwing’s twin sister,”
Kabita told me with a grin.
    I must have looked absolutely gobsmacked
because Sandra let out a belly laugh. “She didn’t tell you a thing
about me, did she? Isn’t that just like Cordy? The woman always did
live halfway in another world.” Her accent was definitely American,
though she slipped a few Britishisms in here and there, much like
I’d done when I lived here. Heck, I still did it. I got no end of
grief about it from Inigo.
    “Um, no. No she didn’t. It’s nice to meet you
Sandra.”
    “I see Adam. Listen, I’ll leave you two to
chat. Enjoy.” Kabita headed off to catch up with her brother as
Sandra waved me toward a couple of chairs overlooking the communal
gardens.
    “So, what exactly is a dragon artist?” OK,
stupid question, but it was the first thing that popped into my
head. I never said I was a scintillating conversationalist.
    “I make dragons.” She graciously ignored my
idiocy. “Surprising amount of money in dragons. People like them.
Little clay ones are the most popular. Great for desks and such.
Sell a ton of those. Though I make a pretty penny off big stone
ones for the garden. Unbelievable how many people want a dragon in
their back garden. Bizarre, if you ask me, but it takes all sorts,
doesn’t it.”
    “So, you’re a sculptor.”
    She smiled. “Well, yes, you could say that.
Sculptor,