Kissed by Fire (3 page)

“
Thuraze
Keres,
ouk eni
Anthesteria!
”

Which is apparently something along the lines
of “Keres, I banish you!” in Greek. Granted it sounds a lot cooler
in Greek.

The ground under the Keres cracked open, and
with a final angry shriek, she disappeared into the earth. Totally
cool and much easier than I’d imagined. Thank goodness Kabita had
taught me that spell.

The Darkness heaved up, making one last
effort to escape. I slammed the metaphorical lid down on it.

I wondered if some day I wouldn’t be able to
close that lid, but I shoved that thought aside. I had more
important things to do than worry about some day.

***

I sank into the roomy leather seat with a
sigh of relief. That was one thing about being a Hunter. I’d never
have to fly coach again.

I made sure my portable weapons locker was
locked and stowed safely under my seat. The UK had strict weapons
laws, not to mention the rules about weapons on board a plane.
Fortunately I had a nifty little license that allowed me to carry
anywhere.

I wiggled a little so the leather squeaked
under my butt. Yeah, this was living. I wondered if they’d serve
lobster. Not that I liked lobster. In fact, I loathed seafood, but
it was the thought of it that counted.

“Don’t worry, there’s no lobster.” Kabita
dropped into the seat next to me. “It’s salmon.”

I must have turned pale because she burst out
laughing. Of all the fish in all the world, salmon was the rankest.
And being from the Pacific Northwest I’d been around the best there
was. Didn’t matter. I still thought the stuff was vile.

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled, “I ordered the
vegetarian meal for you.”

“Thank the gods. I will love you forever,” I
said rather more fervently than strictly necessary.

She shook her head as she settled back into
the plush seat and pulled out a stack of files. All work and no
play made for a very dull life indeed, so I snagged a book out of
my carry on and settled in. It was probably weird that I was
addicted to paranormal romances seeing as how I dealt with
paranormal crap every day. You’d think I’d want to read something
different. But my uncle was a cop and he read crime novels, so it
couldn’t be that weird.

I barely noticed the plane ramming down the
runway and lifting into the sky, I was so deep into the story.
There were a handful of authors who made the paranormal fun, even
to someone who spent her life steeped in it. L.M. Pruitt knew her
stuff, all right. I wondered vaguely if maybe Pruitt was more than
just a writer of the paranormal. Another Hunter maybe?

Naw. Probably not. Surely the government
wouldn’t let a Hunter get away with writing about the things they
hunted. Then again, there was that
Stargate
episode where
the Air Force encouraged the making of a sci fi TV show to hide
rumors of the “real” Stargate program. I might sound like a
conspiracy nut, but I’d bet my last dollar the government would
totally do something like that. Trevor Daly certainly would be
capable of pulling something that sneaky. The rat bastard.

Thoughts of Trevor led me to thoughts of Jack
and the weirdness that had become our relationship. Or lack
thereof.

Something had been developing between us, I’d
no doubt of that. There’d definitely been some steamy hot moments.
Being with him had been amazing. And then everything had gone to
hell in a hand basket, and Jack had gotten all weird on me.

For a whole week after we’d discovered I was
not only a descendent of Atlantis but actually a member of the
Royal Bloodline, Jack had pretty much refused to talk to me except
over the phone in a professional capacity. So I finally did what I
do best: I hunted him down and cornered him.

“Listen, Jack, this is bullshit. You’ve got
to talk to me. What the hell is going on?” I’d actually broken into
his house and waited for him to come home one night. Yeah, totally
stalker, but it was the only way I was going to get him to
talk.

“My lady ... ”

“Don’t you ‘my lady’ me,” I snarled, poking
my finger into his chest. It was very satisfying, poking a man
nearly twice my size, and an ancient, immortal Templar Knight to
boot. “I am tired of this crap. One minute we’re all hot and heavy
and the next minute you’re bowing and scraping and acting like I’ve
got rabies or something.”

I was pretty sure he smirked a little, but he
schooled his features so fast it was hard to tell. Jack wasn’t
exactly expressive even in the best of times. That sounded all
romantic and shit, like a proper Mr. Darcy, but in real life, it
was annoying as hell.

He heaved a sigh. “Listen Morgan.” He plopped
down onto his chocolate chenille sofa so I curled into the
overstuffed matching chair opposite him. Jack had the comfiest
living room furniture ever. “Things have changed. When I thought
you were just another one of us ... ” He waved his hand around as
though trying to grasp inspiration from the ethos.

One of us. I knew what he meant. He meant
Sunwalkers. Humans with Atlantean DNA who’d been infected by
vampirism. The Atlantean DNA forced the sickness to mutate so that
instead of becoming vampires, they became powerful, nearly immortal
creatures who could walk in the sun. Jack seemed to think I was one
of them. Frankly, I thought he was bloody nuts. At least, I hoped
he was.

“So, what, you can date another Sunwalker,
but not me?” I couldn’t help it if my voice was just this side of
testy.

“I’m the Guardian, Morgan.”

“Yeah, of the amulet. And the amulet found
its owner, so you can stop worrying about the stupid thing. It’s my
problem now.” As the last of the Royal Bloodline, the amulet had
bonded to me. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant other than it
possibly having something to do with waking the Darkness in me, but
I did know that essentially the amulet was mine.

He smiled a little. “That’s true. The amulet
is now yours to protect, but the Guardian’s job doesn’t end with
the amulet. It merely transfers to the one who holds the
amulet.”

I blinked a little. “Say what?” Call me slow,
but I wasn’t liking where this was heading.

“I am now
your
Guardian, Morgan
Bailey. It is my sworn duty to protect you, Keeper of the Key of
Atlantis.”

Oh, bloody hell. I now had my own personal
body guard. Fantastic.

“Right, OK,” I said with a nod, trying to be
all reasonable. “I’m the Keeper, you’re the Guardian, fine. I still
don’t see the problem.”

His features were drawn and tight and he
looked more tired than I’d ever seen him, his ocean colored eyes
shadowed, golden skin paler than usual. The delicate skin under his
eyes was so deeply purple it looked like a bruise. Frankly, he
looked like crap.

“The problem is that if I get involved with
you ... romantically, I can’t do my job. That is why the Guardian
is forbidden to have a ... relationship with the Keeper.”

“Oh, that is bullshit,” I snapped, at the end
of my patience. “That’s some stupid crappy rule from what, ten
thousand years ago? This is the twenty-first century, for crying
out loud.”

“And the logic still applies.” His voice was
firm. “If a warrior grows too close to his charge, it becomes
impossible for him to execute his duty.” He sounded like he was
quoting from a rule book. He probably was.
Do’s and Don’ts for
the Single Templar
or something equally ridiculous.

“So get someone else to play Guardian. You
can be like … the assistant Guardian or something.”

“I can’t, Morgan. The amulet chose me.
There’s nothing I can do to change that. I wouldn’t even if I
could.”

There really hadn’t been much to say after
that. He wasn’t budging and neither was I. But you can’t force
someone to want to be with you and short of smacking him upside the
head with a frying pan, I wasn’t going to get him to see things my
way. OK, probably I wouldn’t get him to see things my way even
with
the frying pan, but it sure would have made me feel
better.

So, I left, and I hadn’t seen him since,
though I knew he was there in the background, keeping an eye on me.
He’d step in if I really needed him. So far I hadn’t. I guess it
gave me some comfort to know he was there, letting me do my thing,
but still there just in case I needed protecting.

Stupid man. I really hated it when he went
all noble. He was impossible to move. Must be a throw back to his
Templar days.

I sighed. He was going to be seriously pissed
when he figured out I’d flown to London without him.

***

Heathrow was just as mental as I remembered
it. In some ways it was actually rather beautiful, all gleaming
marble and shiny steel with loads and loads of highly polished
glass. In other ways it was a total nightmare: people running
everywhere, noise and light and complete craziness. It was a great
place to people watch, though, and I smiled as long separated
friends and relatives embraced each other with unbridled
enthusiasm.

“Come on.” Kabita motioned toward the huge
bank of elevators just outside the exit doors. “Dex is meeting us
outside Departures.”

That meant we had to go down one floor and
out the sky bridge. I hoped Kabita’s brother wasn’t late. I was
exhausted and felt like I hadn’t had a bath in a year. A shower was
definitely in order.

As we headed toward the lifts, a young woman
coming the other way brushed past us. I wouldn’t have paid her any
attention except that when she saw Kabita, she got the oddest look
on her face. A strange mix of surprise, anger and glee. Then she
was gone. Weird.

“Um, Kabita, did you see that girl?”

She turned and one silky black brow went up.
“What girl?”

“The one that just passed us.” I jerked my
head in the direction she’d disappeared.

She shook her head and kept walking. “Wasn’t
paying that much attention. Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. She acted like
maybe she knew you or recognized you or something. It was
weird.”

“What did she look like?” She propped herself
against the wall of the lift and waited for it to descend to the
ground floor before ascending to the first floor and Departures.
The elevators in Terminal Five were all automated and ran in a
particular cycle. I’d seen more than one tourist standing around
looking absolutely baffled trying to figure out where the call
button was.

“Really short platinum blond hair. Kind of
spiky. Brown eyes. About my height. Looked like she had a tattoo on
her arm, but I didn’t catch what it was.” She also moved just like
a Hunter, but I didn’t mention that. London, after all, was full of
Hunters. In a city of over eight million people, there was plenty
of work for them. I ought to know.

Kabita shook her head, frowning. “Doesn’t
ring any bells. I guess I’ve just got one of those faces.”

I burst out laughing. “Yeah, as if. You so do
not have one of those faces.” And she didn’t. There may have been
some people who had bland, ordinary looks. People who blended into
the crowd, but Kabita Jones wasn’t one of those people. With her
cloud of waist length jet black hair and cinnamon skin, she stood
out anywhere, even in a multicultural city like London.

Kabita’s brother had gotten a spot right near
the sky bridge. Brownie points to him. At least we didn’t have to
trudge all over creation just to find the car.

Dexter Jones looked nothing like his sister.
Granted, he had the same black hair and cinnamon skin, but the
similarities ended there.

While Kabita was actually a couple inches
shorter than my own five foot five, Dex towered over both of us at
a good six foot two. Also, while Kabita had her mother’s more
exotic Indian features, Dex’s were pure Anglo, right down to his
gray eyes and slightly Romanesque nose. Dex must take after their
father. And while Kabita’s accent still held the music of her
Malaysian childhood, despite twenty years living in England and
another three in the United States, Dex’s accent was pure London.
The posh side of London.

What I knew about Kabita’s family could fill
a thimble. She didn’t like talking about them. All I knew was that
while her mother’s family came from India, her father was some sort
of English mucky muck. His family had a lot of power and influence
in the British government, especially with agencies like MI8, the
supposedly disbanded agency for the study of the paranormal and
supernatural. How he’d ended up married to an Indian woman from a
tiny village in Malaysia was most likely an interesting tale,
though I’d never heard it. In any case, he did and Kabita and her
brothers were all raised in the same village until they were old
enough to attend University. Then they’d all hit the UK. And
stayed.

Inigo was her cousin on her dad’s side. I
knew her dad had never left the UK other than for brief visits to
his wife and kids in Malaysia. And now I knew she had a cousin in
MI8. Or rather, who had formerly been with MI8 and now lay dead in
the morgue somewhere. And that was all I knew about the family of
Kabita Jones, my best friend and boss.

Maybe it was odd I’d never pressed her about
her family, but I’d always been of the opinion that for the most
part, people will share their personal stuff when they’re good and
ready. There was no need to be all up in each other’s business all
the time.

Once we were settled in the car with Dex in
the driver’s seat, Kabita said, “Tell me.”

Dex was quiet as he steered the car out into
traffic. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight. “I think it
best if you wait to talk to Dad.”

Personally, I would have pushed him for more
info and I expected Kabita to do the same. I guess she knew her
brother better than that. She just sighed. “Fine. When does he want
to meet?”