by Al K. Line
Contents
Title Page
Unfinished Business
Chicken Trouble
An Interruption
Rest and Recuperation
Extra Greasy, Please
Wizard Battle
The Accountant
Sounds Good to Me
Alive and Dangerous
Zombie Shopper
Zombie Outing
Please Don't
Ouch!
The Rescue Squad
A Troll Interrogation
Friends
Awkward Questions
Naughty Witches
A Witch Hunt
Time for Lunch
A Welcome Rest
Not the Best Greeting
Which Witch?
A Denial
Time to Think
The Hidden Club
At Home with the Gremlins
A Clue
A Red Herring
Shifter Revolt
Plum out of Luck
That Feeling
Unwanted Guests
No Rest for the Wicked
Vampires!
Massacre
Back to the Club
Decisions, Decisions
All or Nothing
Keep Calm
A Long Chat
Choices
Storming the Keep
Just Watching
Strangely Strange
Impossible Guilt
Grandma's
New Spark
Dark Magic Enforcer Book 3
Al K. Line
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Copyright © 2016, Al K. Line. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Unfinished Business
The memory of the two favors I'd promised Dancer, necromancer and man I began to hate all over again with renewed vigor, played on my mind as I crept through the woods, wearing nothing but a vest and jeans.
I felt out of place, almost naked, and if it wasn't for the magic raising my body temperature I would have been freezing. Normally, I dress smart, not in clothes I picture cowboys wearing as they wrangle, or whatever it is they do.
I'm a wizard and I have standards. Still, a promise is a promise, and I owed Dancer. Sly-faced, stinking necromancer that he is.
My tattoos screamed at me to release the dark magic that made them more swollen than a vampire's ego, and to my magic-infused vision my bare arms looked like a bag of snakes. Angry ones.
I continued the hunt, helped a little by a foul potion from the Chemist that I prayed would work for the time he promised, rather than leaving me exposed without the job done.
"Goddamn Dancer," I muttered quietly, knowing I had only myself to blame—he'd done me a favor and I had to repay it. For us, the Hidden, our word is everything, and woe-betide anyone that went back on it.
I was out of practice though, and nobody knew of this enforcer job apart from him and me. Our secret. And it would remain that way. As far as everyone else was concerned, I was still recuperating, living the quiet life, getting back what I had lost.
Oompf. I doubled over, magic protecting me a fraction too late, the full force of the gnome's club to my stomach making me curl up like a hedgehog under attack. So much for the potion to make me as silent as a goblin when the bill arrived.
Energy raged and I righted myself, then ducked as the club swung fast and hard for my head. I stepped back from the horrid creature, the gnome's potato-shaped head weaving side to side as it looked for an angle.
As sickness rose from dark magic use, I pictured my body protected by a layer of darkness, impenetrable and inviolate, and as the gnome swung again I smiled with satisfaction as the club rebounded. I assumed the look on its face was one of shock, but it was hard to tell—their features resemble funny shaped vegetables that supermarkets won't sell.
Letting down the barrier, I blasted a thin jet of energy, black and sparkling silver like my eyes, right at the arm of the gnome. The misshapen appendage shriveled, blackening and turning as crispy as deep-fried worms, one of their favorite foods. Again, I unleashed my borrowed magic on the other arm as the club swung but missed, then it just stood there, scowling at me as I relished my triumph.
Look, don't feel sorry for it, the damn thing had taken it upon itself to go into Dancer's home and attack him, all because he'd risen another gnome from the dead on request of the Cardiff gnomes in the first place. With the help of Plum, a shifter panther, the guilty gnome had been tracked, and Dancer had called in a favor so I'd deal with the miscreant.
"Enough, unless you want your head fried too." I stared at the surly creature in the ubiquitous dirty jeans and t-shirt, always at odds with the pristine red hat they all wore.
"Don't care. Not bothered."
"Okay, fair enough." I raised an arm to blast the creature to the gnome afterlife.
"Wait! I'll make you a deal," it said slyly—you can never tell if they are male or female, same as many Hidden creatures.
"No deal. I'm not interested. Look, we've been at this all night. I blast you, you recover, come at me, I come at you, blah, blah, blah. It's stupid. Why did you do it?"
"Because he knows about the map," said the gnome, as if that explained everything. I was getting seriously tired of the runaround. It was getting light, Kate would be missing me soon, and I really hate gnomes. Did I mention that?
"I know about the map, Intus knows about the map, Kate knows about the map, and Rikka knows about the map. We all know about the bloody thing."
"Oh," said the three foot gnome, looking rather disappointed.
"Yeah, oh. Look, we don't care about it. And besides, all it does is lead to other maps. What's the point of that?"
"Aha, so you do want our maps," it said as if I'd somehow justified its attack on Dancer and the trouble it was causing me.
"No. Why would I want a map that just leads to others?"
"Because maps are great. I'm gonna kill you all." The damn thing whistled and half a dozen gnomes appeared from nowhere. Before I knew it, I was covered in them.
I may have got a little angry, and if you ever go for a walk in the woods on the outskirts of Cardiff just don't go looking in the trees. You might find "bits."
Dusting myself off as best I could, I headed back to the car and the drive to my new home.
After what I'd been through Dancer owed me a favor in return. It doesn't work that way though, unfortunately. I still owed him one, but if it involved potato-headed gnomes I was gonna bail, no matter that our kind never goes back on their word.
Did I mention that I hate gnomes? And necromancers. I hate them too.
Actually, it's a long list, but then, there are a lot of species in my world, and most of them are trouble. That includes human beings. We're the worst of all. Apart from the goblins, everyone hates goblins.
Um, and the zombies. Come to think of it, a lot of lesser demons aren't too nice either, and don't even get me started on the elves.
I was dirty, annoyed, and sick from dark magic use, but at least I had a home to go to. More importantly, I had Kate, and that made everything just about perfect.
I still smelled of gnome, though.
Chicken Trouble
I was exhausted. It
was her or me, and I like me. She would have to die. The battle had raged for what felt like eternity. The foul beast was unstoppable. Sneaky, and impossible to pin down.
Dark magic welled inside of me, still lingering from the long night. I glanced down at my bare arms, pleased to see the muscles, something that had been sorely lacking for months after my last enforcer job.
But it wasn't the muscles that made me smile the most, it was the tattoos that swelled and writhed like fat spider's legs from my knuckles all the way up to my shoulders then crept under my splattered vest.
I knew I was powerful and would win. It felt like I'd come home, the fight of the free, a continuance of the favor returned to Dancer. No rest for me now. I'd got home just before Kate came outside, only to be confronted with this terrible vision of destruction.
I weaved left, then right, focus back on my adversary. I lunged for her but she was too fast, and all I got was muddy.
There was no choice, magic it was. Standing still, I felt the energy pour into me, and my eyes snapped to vicious black like a repeat of the battle with the gnome and thousands of other Hidden over the years.
As the magic built, screaming for release, my ink went wild. I centered myself, felt the energy increase as magic swept over me in wave after sickening wave—the price you pay for taking what isn't yours by birthright. It came up from my feet, traveled down from my arms and torso to meet at my navel.
Smiling, already anticipating the sweet taste of victory, I brought my hands closer together, ready to clap and send a lumpy gobbet of death right at her. To obliterate her corrupted essence, take the evil creature away. She would be dead, the fight over.
She stared at me with ancient, evil yellow eyes as nasty as the cruel succubus I once fought, bringing back memories I had tried to bury. She opened a red, mud-stained mouth, and a noise as piercing as a demon banished back to the netherworld for eternity split the air.
It was now or never. Her or me. I had the dark arts. Victory would be mine.
"You're gonna die, haha. Faz Pound, kick-ass dude, will never be beaten. I'm gonna—"
"Faz!" screamed Kate as she ran through the chaos that was the land surrounding our new home. "Tell me right now that you weren't about to blast a chicken with magic. Are you mad?"
"The bloody thing won't stay still. I've been trying to catch it for half an hour now and it keeps running away. Ugh, they're evil. Look at its eyes. It knows," I said, staring at it with loathing.
Kate stopped by my side, out of breath and looking at me like I'd lost the plot. "Knows what? It's a chicken!"
"It knows. Things. It's winding me up, taunting me. I only want it to stop eating the bloody vegetables. Look at the mess."
Kate frowned as she surveyed the devastation of the vegetable plots. All our hard work, half destroyed. The new chickens we'd bought just a few days ago had run riot now they were settled in their new home, digging and scratching up the young plants we had so painstakingly grown then planted in our enriched soil.
Yes, I may have lost it a little when I arrived home to such a sight. Maybe the magic had gone to my head and I was a little hyped. But still. Damn chicken!
"Okay, blast that sucker," said Kate, giving the chicken the evil eye.
"Get ready to be supper," I said, letting the magic take me again before the sickness took hold and I had to go lie down somewhere dark and quiet. I focused on the beastie, put my hands together, and was ready to hit it with my best shot.
"Faz, Faz! I'm joking. It's a chicken."
"Oh, right. Okay." I have to admit, I was a little disappointed. I'd been chasing the thing for ages. Have you got any idea how hard it is to catch a young chicken? Trust me, it's enough to send you over the edge.
"Haha, you muppet. Faz Pound, Dark Magic Enforcer, Zapper of Chickens, Mighty Defender of the Vegetables. You idiot." She smiled, that beautiful smile of hers that makes everything all right with the world. I relaxed. I even like the fangs now—they suit her.
Who knew living in the country could be so stressful? It was still new to us, but we were getting there. Anyway, it beat living in the city like we had done until... Never mind. Let's say my home of ninety odd years got a little torn up when I had a fight with some unhappy vampires and I couldn't face living there after the destruction with all the reminders of what had happened that year.
Plus, I'd go anywhere to be with Kate. We were together, my dream come true. Meaning, I was still having a tough time believing it had actually happened, even though we'd been together for nine months now.
My recovery took almost that long as previous events had got seriously out of control. My body had wasted away and continued to feed off itself for months afterward, the dark magic use taking its toll in ways it had never done before. But I'd pushed too far, gone too deep, been subjected to more stress than ever before—that, more than anything physical, was the real reason I was so damaged. I'm sure of it.
The move to the country had been exactly what Kate and I had needed. More than anything though, we needed each other.
The Black Spark was back. He felt so good he even talked about himself in the third person for no reason. I was whole again, and, if I'm honest, I was going a little stir-crazy.
I'm an enforcer. I deal with miscreants and abusers of this dark magic those we call Hidden have claimed as their own, and I'd turned down every job Rikka, my boss, had offered me since the vampire incident.
Which is why it came as somewhat of a relief when one of Rikka's vehicles skidded to a halt while I unsuccessfully tried to intimidate a chicken.
An Interruption
"I've got a job for you," shouted Rikka. "Is that a chicken?"
"Soon to be a dead one unless it behaves," I said, frowning at it one last time then walking away before either it or I exploded.
"Fine, whatever," said Rikka. "Forget the chicken, we have a problem."
I smiled, felt the familiar tingle of excitement tinged with fear. One thing you can say about Mage Rikka, head of the UK Dark and Hidden Councils, is he is the master of understatement. If he said there was a problem it probably meant demons had terrorized Cardiff, the de-facto center for all things magical in the United Kingdom and where Kate and I had lived until the move to the chicken-infested countryside.
I said nothing to Dancer, just gave him a nod to tell him our little bit of business was taken care of. He nodded back. One favor down, one more to go.
"What is it? Zombies? Ghouls? Vampires? Ah, I bet it's the goblins, isn't it? Damn menaces are always causing trouble."
"No, it's worse than that, Spark," said Dancer, smiling in that weird way he does, before ignoring me and trying his best to ingratiate himself with Kate. "Hello, Kate, you look lovely. Like the hat."
Kate, my girlfriend—that still sounds weird—vampire, and all round super-hot and sexy lady I had lusted over ever since we first met, smiled back at Dancer and Rikka. "Thanks. Cup of tea anyone?"
"Yes please," said Dancer, still trying to smile and failing miserably.
"That would be lovely, Kate," said Rikka. "And no, Spark, it's not the goblins. The trolls have got smart."
"Huh?" One thing trolls could never be accused of was being smart. Most of them were called Brick, or Boulder, or if they were being really inventive maybe Stone, or Pebble.
"The trolls have been given something, or done something, and they are smart. It's chaos in the city, Spark. Can you imagine? We've got scores of nine foot walking mountains all trying to organize everyone and take an interest in things. They stormed the Hidden Council meeting yesterday, and it did not go well. They want to be in charge. They're talking about rights and stuff, reckon they are more intelligent than us and we need to step back to let them do things properly. Mad!" Rikka waved away the very idea.
"Hey, Spark, got any more of that stuff you call compost?" asked Intus as the two inch tall imp appeared on my bare shoulder in a puff of noxious fumes I tried to waft away in vain. "The kids have gone nuts over it and they
're doing my head in."
"Hey, Intus," I managed to say through the smoke whilst tilting my head as far away from her as I could manage. My ear hurt terribly, but she never tones it down—imps have one volume, loud. Their deep baritone is enough to deafen you if you aren't prepared.
"Oh, hello, Mage Rikka, Mr. Dancer. Lovely hat, Kate." Imps are always polite and pride themselves on their manners, although, to be honest, Intus forgets most of the time. "So, Spark, about this stuff. Got any? Eh? Eh?" Intus tried her best to smile, but it just looked like her pointy teeth were ready to rip something apart.
"Intus, I already told you. It's not for eating, it's for making things grow."
"Tell that to the kids. We've got forty of the little buggers, er, delights now. Shall I bring them here, for a visit?" she asked hopefully.
"No. Absolutely not." We'd never have a matching pair of socks again if that happened.
"Forty?" said Kate.
Intus nodded sadly. Last time I'd seen her, less than a week previous, I think the total was thirty or so. But imps are true Hidden, purely magical creatures, and in their world time is different to ours. That's what happens when you're immortal, I guess—I never can work out exactly how they live, certainly not how they manage to have so many kids so quickly.
"Spark, about the trolls," said Rikka.
"And you still owe me two favors, Spark," said Dancer, face serious, looking like he'd come to collect. I guess he thought he was being clever, but it just made him sound suspicious. He may as well have started whistling.
"What about the chicken?" moaned Kate. "Faz, you have to catch it."
"Spark, where's the compost?" said Intus.
My vacation was over.
Welcome to my world. I'm a wizard, a scowler at chickens, lover of a sexy vampire, friend to excitable imps, and in well over a century of life I have dealt with more humans involved in magic, and encountered more true Hidden, than I can recall, but I had never fought a chicken before, let alone lost to one, until then.
"Let's go have a cuppa," I said, giving up even thinking about the peace Kate and I had reveled in for months.
