by Al K. Line
Hell, she'd be worried sick.
Click.
I turned to see Intus with an infinite remote control, a big red power button with her claw firmly on it. All the screens were blank.
"Sorry, Spark, but you know the rules. You can't see that."
"No, I don't. I thought I did but now I don't. Have you got my whole life there? Can you see it all?"
Intus scratched her head and said, "Yes. But no. Um, sort of. It's because we're linked. You know I always know what's happening in your life, but sometimes I arrive early, or late, not quite when you need me. Well, this is why. It's jumbled sometimes, depending on your emotions, my mood, the luck of the draw. Lots of things," she waved away the notion. "But, usually, it's what's going on right about now. But in your time," she added hurriedly, "we don't do time here. Not much point when you have eternity. Which, trust me, seems like a very long time if you keep checking the clock."
"So you won't show me?"
Intus shook her head. "Can't. It's against the rules."
I sighed. I was getting really good at that, too. "Okay, fine. Let's find these kids. Where's the rest of them? The ones that aren't lost?"
That was my second really stupid question of the day. Or was it the third? I lose track.
Attack of the Nasties
"What's that for?" asked an impling. At least I assumed it was judging by the diaper and the way it kept sucking on its claw between tugging at my finger.
"It's my finger. It's for... er, pointing and stuff."
"What's that for?" asked another darling impling with a lollipop stuck to its cheek, pulling hard at my hair. "It's for, er, keeping my head warm."
"But what is it? Can I have it?"
"No, me, me, I want it."
"No, it's mine."
"Mummy, the ugly pink thing won't let me have the hair. I want some."
And on and on it went. Hundreds of them, all pulling and tugging and asking questions and yanking and poking and licking. Ugh, the licking.
"Quiet!" roared Intus in the deep baritone I was getting used to as it seemed even I spoke like that down here.
Silence descended for about a heartbeat and then they all burst out crying, molten tears of fire that scorched the rock carpet and pitted the surface like acid—it probably was, I'm not really up on baby imps and their fluids.
It was deafening. The bawling gnawed at my mind and ate away my marrow, leaving every nerve exposed. I wanted to crawl into a hole and let someone chop off all my bits and post them to the acid factory.
Intus turned to me and said, "You could have let them have your hair. You don't need it."
"Of course I do. It's for..." Okay, she had a point. I didn't need it, but I liked the way it looked and it really did keep my head warm. Yes, I could have worn a hat or let it grow back, but c'mon.
"See what I have to put up with? This is why I like to come visit. Uh-oh, I think I'm having another one."
"Another one, what?" I asked with dread, knowing full well what she meant but hoping beyond hope I was wrong.
"A baby. Another impling. You wanna help? Wanna see the miracle happen?"
I backed off, arms up, already going lalalala in my mind. "No way. Absolutely not. You, er, go about your birth business, I'll look after the kids. Damn." What was wrong with me? How could I say such a thing? See how flustered I was?
What happened next was a lesson in what the words "truly infinite" mean. It was as if time stretched out in one long line of never-ending, nightmarish questions. There were constant pleas for potty, and nappy changes, tantrums because they wanted yum-yums and more potty, and more tickles, and lollies.
Some wanted a lava bath, others wanted to play on the key slide. Others wanted to play bury the pink blob in the Pit of Infinite Pain—I skipped it—and there were tears and there were screams and then, when I'd just about lost my mind and thought I must have done something utterly despicable in my life, and was dead now and in the worst kind of hell, worse than anyone had ever imagined in the whole history of humankind, it was quiet.
They sat, utterly still. A massive circle of them hemming me in from all directions, no means of escape. Hundreds of imp children of various sizes in numerous states of undress. Some with the full leathers, heavy on the buckles, always dungarees, some just in nappies or wearing a pair of pants on their head—leather, of course—or pouring things over their heads. Sticking fingers up noses—usually their siblings'—but at least they were quiet.
"Hey, Spark, wanna meet the new arrival?" asked Intus as she came from who knew where.
"Ssh," I said, and every child turned back from her interruption to me, where I sat, cross-legged, the kids' eyes wide and lost in wonder at the tale Uncle Spark was weaving.
Intus plonked herself down with the newborn in her arms and as something I didn't want to think about expanded on her usually flat chest—all imps look the same, no sign of sexual body parts ever normally in evidence—I continued.
*
"...and then the dragon smashed through the ceiling with us still on its back and we found ourselves out of the wondrous, crumbling lair and back up in our own world." I looked up only to find that all the implings were curled up in balls on the red, dusty ground, snoring loudly, twitching as they dreamed of dragons and looking utterly serene.
"What happened next?" asked Intus, rocking the baby in her arms.
"You know what happened," I whispered.
"Yeah, but it's not the same as having a story."
Several children stirred and began to ask questions.
"Uncle Spark, did you get any paninis?"
"What's boobies?"
"Can we get a dragon?"
"Ssh," I said, finger to my lips. "I'll finish the story next time. Okay?" The implings nodded and lay their heads back down, fast asleep once more.
I nodded to Intus and we crept away, leaving them to their slumber.
"Wow, Spark, you've got a real talent for this," said Intus, admiringly.
"You think? Haha, it was kinda cool."
"Absolutely. They've never all gone to sleep at the same time. Never." Intus turned to look back at the sleeping forms of her children, shaking her head in wonder.
"You've definitely got your hands full. Come on, let's go find the missing ones and then I need to get back to my own world. You can't do this again, you know that, right?"
"Sorry, I know. It's just..."
"Yeah, I offered."
"No, not just that. But they're my kids, Spark. I know I moan about them and act like I'm not bothered, but trust me, when you have your own, you'll understand. They drive you out of your mind but you love 'em, understand?"
"Of course. Come on, where were they last?"
Intus led me off into the madness and the children continued to snore.
The Lost Ones
Life is so strange at times. That one act gave me a peculiar feeling inside. Yes, they were little terrors and I'd nearly been driven crazy by them, but it was immensely satisfying telling a story and watching their little demonic faces, rapt, their imaginations running wild until finally they succumbed to sleep.
I felt paternal, understood this was the one thing missing from my life. Don't get me wrong, I was happy with Kate, no question about it, but children, yeah, it had its appeal.
Was that selfish? To even consider having children when we lived the kind of lives we did? An enforcer and a vampire, the perfect parents. I felt foolish for even thinking about being a dad. Me off on my next job, getting into endless trouble. Risking life, limb, and sanity. And Kate, hunting her next meal. Killing some corrupt soul so she could feed the addiction and live another day? We couldn't be parents, we were wild and strange things and didn't deserve such a gift.
Or did we? I'd thought about this so much since Japan, and my conversation with Kate concerning it had led to nothing but heartache for her and confusion for us both. Neither of us even knowing if we actually wanted children. But this storytelling, it changed someth
ing. Made me understand that there was something missing inside and it was the continuation of my family line. Heck, I was the last, and if I had no children the bloodline would die whenever I did. It's a sobering thought, but also one tinged with selfishness. I wanted a family of my own. I wanted to be there for the little guy or gal, and ensure they had a life I could never have—one with parents. And that was the real rub—Mommy and Daddy could be wiped out at any moment.
It's the primitive urge to procreate, nothing more, I told myself, but that didn't change the fact I felt a sense of wholeness telling a tale to a bunch of demonic tearaways. What would it be like if I did the same with a child of my own?
Silly, as it was very unlikely Kate could ever bear children, and even if we found a way, she wasn't sure if she ever wanted them and neither was I when I got right down to it.
The thought both appealed and repulsed me. The loss of freedom, the loss of the wildness, the loss of my edge. Would I be ineffective if I had the weight of responsibility hanging over me at all times? Probably. Look what had happened recently. Getting sucked through our own kitchen floor, dragons and zombies and all kinds of madness. If a child had been present then it would have died, and how would I feel about myself if I ever let that happen?
Above all else, that didn't bear thinking about. No, I was being utterly selfish even considering such a thing, so I did my best to put it out of my mind and focused on the job at hand. Which was finding Intus' kids quick-smart and getting the hell out of this insanity before I lost the plot completely.
I knew it would be like this, knew it would be some stupid thing she'd overlooked, so as we peered into the smoky interior of the cave, where the children had apparently been playing with the scorching steam that hissed up from the bowels of their home, I asked, "What were they doing here?"
"Dunno," shrugged Intus. "Some game or other. You know how kids are."
"Not really, no."
"Oh, er. I've looked for them everywhere, shouted and called and threatened and screamed, but they're gone, Spark. They could be anywhere."
"It's a big place, right?"
"Duh, it's infinite."
"This may be a stupid question, but what's their absolute favorite thing to eat?"
"To eat? Well, they like Marmite, and salt, and they love slate. It's the layers, they can't get enough of it."
"Okay, here's the plan," I whispered into Intus' ear, and once we'd agreed we were set.
We sat down and I said, "Oh, Intus, that sounds like a wonderful idea. I love me some Welsh slate. It's just a shame your children aren't here to share it, as it's totally amazing. Look at the bits, I think maybe that's moss, too. You know what? I'm gonna smother mine with Marmite. Yum-yum."
"Now, Spark, don't go stuffing yourself too full, you know how heavy it sits in your belly."
"Okay, fair enough. Now, what shall we do with the leftovers? Shall I just chuck it?"
"Yup, may as well," said Intus, sounding about as believable as if she'd refused the offer of new socks still with the cardboard bands around them.
"Okay, then. I'm going to throw it away right now."
"No," came a chorus of voices from the cave as the kids came rushing forward through the scalding, sulfur-heavy steam, the vents belching out great geysers of the stuff.
They clamored around us, pestering for slate, asking where it was and had the pink man thing really thrown it away.
Intus began to scold the children but I knew her heart wasn't in it, that she was glad they were home. After they'd been sent on their way, told to go back to their siblings and not to hide like that again, I understood what this had all been about.
"You're a sneaky so-and-so, you know that, right?"
Intus' ears pointed up, erect and proud as she smiled. "I know."
"All of this, just to show me what it's like? They weren't lost at all, were they? You knew where they were, just used it as an excuse to get me down here to meet them and get all fatherly."
"Who, me? As if I'd do such a thing," said Intus, protesting, trying, and failing, to hold back a chuckle. One thing she is not is a good actor.
"Haha, well, thanks, Intus. I think. You know you must never do this again?"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Spark."
"Time to go?"
"Yup. I'm in enough trouble as it is."
"I bet," I said, and then Intus handed me a tiny vial. "It's symbolic, right?"
"Of course. You don't think drinking a potion can really shrink you or allow you to come and go from here, do you?"
"No, of course not. But I get it, it's what it does to the mind."
"Wrong. It's out of your control, Spark. It's all down to me. I click my fingers and—"
My body was consumed with searing heat that felt like my flesh was stripped from my bones and all was darkness for a moment.
I opened my eyes, only to see a tree right in front of me. I righted the bike and glanced to the left where Dancer was staring at me, astonished, wondering why I'd veered when we were on a straight stretch of the lane.
Everything was familiar. I think I'd been gone for maybe half a second if that.
Intus is a true friend, if rather unconventional in her ways at times. But that's what mates are for, to show you things and help you when you're in a quandary about the course of your life.
It would have been nice if she'd also stopped the zombie virus, but they can't really interfere in the events of this world, and besides, what would she watch on TV if I didn't get up to such nonsense on a regular basis?
I got the bike under control, sighed with relief, then turned to check on Dancer who'd fallen back a little to give me room, oblivious to what had just gone down.
"Bugger," I shouted, and he turned to see what I saw. "Here come the wyrmlings."
We gave the bikes some serious throttle and hurtled through country lanes somewhere in the Midlands as the sun set.
The Need for Speed
I hunched down low, willing the bike to move faster even though I was already going a hundred miles an hour. I wiggled my body, just to check Intus had done nothing weird, as I gave full throttle and the engine growled at the punishment. We were on a long straight stretch now, but I knew I was going too fast, was asking for trouble. But what could I do? Get splatted by the wyrmlings or risk coming off? I risked the speed.
Dancer caught me up and we acknowledged each other nervously. This was not good. A quick glance behind told me they were still closing—we were gonna be toast.
Knowing there was nothing to lose, I called to the Empty, hoping beyond hope it would answer my call this time. Damn, but something hurt. A good sign? Maybe. As I reached deeper, I finally found the connection and magic poured into my system with a sharp jolt like a dam had burst. The energy was unstoppable. It gushed inside, engorging my ink as it spiraled and spun around my body, recharging energy centers and communing with my innate magic, completing me, making me whole again.
Ah, my friend. My enemy, my curse, and my only way to feel truly alive. I welcomed the despicable magic like it had been years since we were last joined, rather than hours, and then it began.
My eyes snapped to black like the flick of a bat's wing, dark and nasty as the oil in the engine, and with a crack of magic louder than the bike misfiring, I blasted a white flash of jagged magic at the car and it hit, dead on.
I smiled in satisfaction as the front wheels lifted off the road then came back down with a thud and a grinding of metal. The extreme force made the rear lift high in the air and then the whole vehicle was airborne.
It tumbled end over end. The SUV crashed down, but the force of the magic gave it immense kinetic energy and it flipped up high, gaining speed and spinning faster and faster, jagged lines of wayward magic sparking in all directions. Out of control and imbued with desperation and too much force as I'd not metered the magic properly. My smile turned to panic as I realized the car's momentum meant it was gaining on us—we'd be flattened any seco
nd.
Here it comes, here it comes.
I tried to crawl inside my skin as I watched the vehicle arc even higher, and then it was past us, crashing to the road in front of us and skidding sideways down the road. No time to brake or swerve to avoid it, I shot magic at the asphalt, willing it to rise and provide a ramp.
We hit, simultaneously, the rough rubble hardly making for a smooth launch. I soared up high and over the wreck, handlebars wobbling, bike almost out of control as I clung to it for dear life, realizing I hadn't thought about landing and that if I didn't straighten the bike up I'd be crushed to death.
I forced my body to relax as the wind howled into my face, and stabilized the bike a moment before I landed with a jolt, right on the broken center line. Dancer landed a moment later, wobbled terribly, and I thought he would crash for sure, but he leaned forward, went with it, and eventually got it under control.
The car burst into flames behind us as we hammered the throttle and roared away from the heat and death.
Dusk hit like a hammer had smacked the sun down beneath the horizon and I switched on the bike's headlights. Cat's eyes glinted like silent sentinels, keeping track of a dark magic enforcer who wanted to just ride and ride and for nothing bad to happen and for the road to never end.
But there is no peace, there is no freedom, not even an illusion of such an elusive pursuit, and just like my life, the road was running out. An unexpected sharp bend meant I eased off the power and took the turn with a skid as I hit the brakes. My knee grazed the ground, and only the fat tires saved me from skidding off entirely. Dancer was right behind me, peeling his bike back to vertical with easy control.
Back on the straight, we were up over sixty in three seconds flat. I wondered if I'd find peace, the chance to rest and go home, ever again.
As if on cue, the bike spluttered and slowed. I stared in horror as the fuel gauge vibrated then stuck on empty—damn, talk about bad timing.
