Kissed by Fire by Shéa MacLeod

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