I smelled smoke right before hearing the "pop" like a firecracker had gone off. Splatters of something thick coated my back even as a thud reverberated behind me. I whirled around to gape at what was left of the ghoul. His body pitched forward on the drive-way, nothing but a smoldering mess left where his head had been.
Much slower, I turned around to see Vlad examining his fingernails, as if his hands weren't still ablaze in the flames that had blasted the ghoul's head off moments before.
"What the hell was that?" I gasped.
"Premature inflamation," he replied. "Happens sometimes. Very embarrassing. I don't like to talk about it.

Auteur: Jeaniene Frost