Vampire Enforcer (Hidden Blood Book 1)

by Al K. Line

"Kim wouldn't take no for an answer. Said he had to see it to believe it. I don't think he ever intended to let Mithnite stay, was just playing along so things didn't get messy."

  "Well, they did," I said, indignant.

  "Thank you, Kate. I can't begin to—"

  "You people really are something else," said Kim with a sigh.

  We all turned, startled. Kim was standing right there, like he'd never gone. His tricks were beginning to get right on my mammary glands. Can I say tits? I can, can't I?

  "Just leave us alone," I groaned, waving my arms around, which I seriously regretted. Partly because it hurt like hell, partly because it meant my boobs thrust out as the jacket slid aside and it didn't exactly make for a menacing impression.

  "Damn, those tattoos are fine," said Dancer, staring hard. "Ow!" Persimmon elbowed him in the ribs; maybe jealousy runs both ways.

  "Actually, they look hot," said Persimmon, giving me a smile. I liked her more already.

  "What is with you people?" asked Kim, shaking his head in exasperation.

  "We're a family," said Faz.

  We all nodded, and I think at this moment we all finally realized that was what we were. We bickered, we talked about one another behind each other's back, we laughed, joked, cried, certainly got into trouble. We were family. Just a very dysfunctional one.

  "Fine, have it your own way." Kim shook his head in wonder at the five of us, and I guess he had a point. We were kind of a strange group. But we were stubborn, and maybe that was paying off.

  "Kate, anyone who is willing to put themselves through a possible eternal damnation to get a loved one back is due my respect."

  I hadn't thought about it like that, hadn't thought so far ahead, and I gulped at the implications. "Um, thanks."

  "So, you can stay," said Kim as he gave Mithnite a steely glance. "But be warned, Mithnite Soos, when your time comes, when you shake off this temporary mortal coil, I'll be waiting for you with a broom and a bloody big room to clean."

  "You got it!" Mithnite smiled so wide it fell off the side of his face and he ran to me and hugged me tight.

  I screamed, blacked out, and Faz must have caught me as I came around a moment later in his arms, him sitting on the floor, screaming with the weight of my body on him.

  "Okay, Faz, go home, and take Mithnite and Kate with you. You're in a worse state than Kate and she jumped into a pit straight to hell," directed Dancer.

  "I'm fine," Faz said, his voice hoarse and strained.

  "No, you're not. Home, and that's an order. Kate, have you got spare clothes?"

  "Yes."

  "Mithnite, go get them, then everyone home until I find out where the hell the goblins have gone to. And I hope that bloody man never comes back."

  I looked around to confirm Kim was gone. "That's it, he really left?"

  "Looks like it," said Mithnite cheerily as he ran across the room to go get my spare clothes from the car.

  "Haha," laughed Persimmon. "Kate, only you could say that's it, like it was easy. You jumped into the elevator to hell and dragged Mithnite back up with you. Kim was impressed. Heck, we're all impressed." There were murmurs of agreement; I guess I did good.

  Dancer's phone rang and he whipped it out and answered, listened, then hung up saying, "Right, thanks." He didn't look happy.

  "Change of plan," he said, and gave me a funny look. Almost like he felt sorry for me.

  "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going home yet?" I asked.

  "Because things are about to get interesting."

  Oh boy.

  Kisses, No Hugs

  Faz protested and said he'd stay but it was obvious he was exhausted. Although I love him, the fact remained that he hadn't actually done anything. He needed to go home and eventually he agreed. I felt terrible, yet relieved. Terrible because I could see the longing in his eyes, the buzz of excitement, the chance to have adventures and risk life and limb, but relieved as I knew he would be in danger if he stayed.

  It's a hard thing to admit, to accept that you're not the person you once were, that the things you could do are out of your reach. He'd get better, was already much improved, but this? No, this was too much for him and if he stuck around it would put not only him but everyone else at risk. Nobody said that, of course, but in his current state he was a liability.

  I felt like one myself. My body was raw, dressing in leather was a lesson in pain, like somebody had sewn needles to the inside of my clothes, but it was better than having my bum and boobs sticking out for all to stare at. I'd save that for the privacy of the bedroom.

  As Faz hugged me and I stifled a moan with the pain, I could tell he was feeling as frisky as I was. Yes, some things worked just fine still, and we were both pleased about that. He released me quickly and we kissed, then with a wink he left, an even more reluctant Mithnite in tow.

  We didn't want to part, but Dancer was firm. Mithnite was to go home, just in case Kim changed his mind. We had work to do. Dancer knew as well as I did that Kim wasn't coming back, and once they left I asked him. "Why did you send Mithnite with Faz?"

  "Because he wouldn't go if he had to go alone. You know the Black Spark, when has he ever backed down from a fight?"

  "Um, loads of times. He's brilliant at running away."

  "You know what I mean. If he had to go home alone he'd sulk for weeks, and anyway, this is for us to deal with. Mithnite's been through enough and he isn't up to this. Not sure you are, Kate, but you're closest to this so I need you with us?"

  "Us?" I asked.

  Dancer nodded. "Us three. We're going to deal with the goblins once and for all."

  "Yes!" said Persimmon, raising her hand to high-five me.

  I stared at her, then my sore hand, skin pink but fading fast, and she said, "Um, sorry."

  "So, let's go kick goblin ass."

  "Yes, boss," I said, almost sounding like I meant it. I just wanted to go home and slip under cool sheets, but I'd agreed to this line of work so I only had myself to blame.

  Maybe I'd bow out after this job. It wasn't as glamorous as I'd thought. Plus leather is expensive, and skin and sanity is priceless.

  Who was I kidding? This was who I was, I felt like I'd become whole. This was Kate. A kick-ass vampire enforcer who wouldn't be stopped by hell or its emissaries. Some naughty goblins were no match for me, I wondered if anything was. I shuddered at the thought, knowing I was on dangerous ground. Everyone's vulnerable, everyone dies, and I had to keep that in mind.

  It's just hard to accept your own mortality when you'd just been through what I had and even your hair was back to being all shiny.

  So, with a swish of the head, and a sashay of the hips, I went to catch up with the others who'd walked off while I was lost to my thoughts.

  Then I tripped on a spanner and fell flat on my backside.

  "Coming," I shouted. Dancer shook his head and Persimmon smiled. I hated her again.

  Fun at the Fair

  "Fucking hell," said Dancer.

  "This is nuts," agreed Persimmon.

  "It's pretty clever," I said, shaking my head in wonder at the audacity of their plan. Persimmon and Dancer stared at me like I'd lost my mind in the descent to hell. "What? It's a damn good plan, you have to admit that."

  "Maybe," said Dancer.

  I'm not sure if he was more angry about what they'd done or that they'd had a smart and insightful idea, the absolute opposite of what you'd expect from hedonistic goblins.

  We stood, bunched close, as throngs of happy people walked past chattering excitedly, or munched on candyfloss with puzzled looks on their faces, wondering why it tasted so insanely sugary and gross when as kids they couldn't get enough of the stuff. There were no young children here now though, all gone home and tucked up in bed, just the adults out to play on the fairground rides and drink overpriced beer bought from gleeful witches running the beer tent—a little added "something" meaning they were doing a roaring trade.

  It felt like half of Cardiff h
ad come out for the official opening of the fairground, an annual event I loved. There was a big wheel, Waltzers, the kids' rides taken over by students snapping selfies, and countless other spinning danger-fests that I enjoyed and just made Faz feel sick.

  One unusual metal construction towered above the others, and had a large crowd around it, oohing and aahing at the strange insectile machine that looked like a torture device and promised one hell of a ride.

  Yeah, straight to hell.

  The goblins had set up the machine in prime position, right in the middle of the fairground outside the museum. Everyone wanted to see what this incredible, bizarre, huge new attraction would do.

  I was sweating like a Yeti in a sauna and probably stank just as bad. My entire system was overloaded from the burning up and regeneration, my core still blistering and the fresh pink flesh sensitive to the touch. But I couldn't expose my skin so kept the t-shirt, coat, and trousers on, although I wished to God I hadn't brought an identical change of clothes and had gone for a lightweight cotton dress instead. Still, I looked the part. And there was no doubt there'd be action, so sacrifices have to be made.

  The evening was lit with hundreds of multi-colored bulbs strung on wires all around the fairground, the bright lights on the rides creating pools of warmth. We were standing back in the half darkness, our faces lit in strange colors as the lights strobed. People looked strange, morphing from happy to sinister, grinning faces taking on ghoulish overtones as the colors shifted.

  Many people had their faces painted, another tradition. Stalls promised to turn you into a tiger or a bunny or whatever you wanted, and all within five minutes. The crowds were queuing, laughing and joking at each other's makeup.

  University students were everywhere, residents crowded around the rides and the food stands. Everyone was happy, enjoying the dated rock music that blared from the rides while bored looking youths spun screaming groups on the Octopus and wrinkled old men convinced those who should know better to try shooting cans to win a prize.

  The three of us stood rooted to the spot, a wide space around us like we had an invisible barrier erected. This was the lot of the Hidden, of people like us. With magic comes a distancing and a stepping back from the goings-on and concerns of the Regular world. We were the invisible people, the lost ones. Nobody can see you, or they can but you are so forgettable, so unmemorable and bland that you don't imprint on their minds.

  Conversations are always awkward with the average person as they forget they're talking to you and wander off, or they ignore you utterly, which makes shopping a real hassle, but it has its advantages too. Like you can get up to no good without anyone remembering what they saw, who they saw, and something makes people give you a wide berth, steers them away from you. It's the energies, they're all wrong. We repel Regulars like two magnets trying to touch, the air vibrates and people don't know why but something in their subconscious pushes them away, leaving them shaking their heads before they go about their business.

  Which was a good job as the three of us were simmering with a quiet rage that could manifest itself as violence very easily. I was ultra-hyped, energy keened to explode in the nastiest of ways. My system was primed, my magic and my cold, uncaring vampire nature begged for action, to blast with my barely controlled new skills, to spray death and destruction into the crowds and cackle as the body count rose.

  I knew I would do no such thing, of course, but being immersed in violence and supernatural events for days now had left me almost half out of my mind. It's easy to forget that this kind of nonsense isn't happening to everyone, that most people don't wake up in the morning to discover their lodger is a demon janitor and go jumping into fiery pits or have their flesh burned off.

  The constant surging of adrenaline and magic and the draw of so much human flesh had sent my body wild with desire for more of the same. More violence, more magic, more blood. Part of it was the relief that Mithnite was saved; it left me excited and triumphant, feeling invincible. And why not? I'd fought an emissary from hell and shown him what I was made of. Okay, not fought, but I still won, got my own way.

  And now these damn goblins were making fools out of us. Here, in plain sight, right at the heart of the city, the castle remains only a stone's throw away, the pubs across the road, the fields and parks, the city center, all of it close. They would destroy everything.

  We watched, silent, knowing we had to wait, to see exactly what they were planning, even though it was obvious. Scores of what appeared to Regulars to be skinny men in tight fitting sportswear or super-skinny jeans with figure-hugging t-shirts showing off thin, gnarly arms and protruding bellies clambered all over the machine, slotting cogs and steel into place, connecting wires and tightening bolts with oversized spanners.

  They were made up like many others, faces painted in macabre approximations of demons or vicious wild animals. Some had gone for wide black bands that crossed their eyes, while others had spent considerable time with their make-up, the effects realistic and worrying. But worst of all, and scariest of all, were the clowns. Ugh, clowns. Scores of goblins with frizzy, multi-colored wigs, red noses, impossibly wide white smiles stark and ghastly against their green skin.

  The goblins shouted and argued with each other, their words lost to the Regulars who would hear nothing more than mumbles as they watched these strange men in crazy make-up construct the peculiar ride, but we heard their words, saw them as the green, nasty freaks they were. They swore and shouted abuse, ordered others to pull this lever, prime that pump, connect that red wire to the brown one, plus endless other confused instructions and arguments that somehow resolved into a chaotic efficiency.

  They moved fast, their bodies like monkeys in trees, hands nimble and agile, and the flurry of wild action was beautiful in some ways. They all acted alone, focused on their own part to play, but came together as a whole, worked with a surprising efficiency and knew exactly what they were doing.

  More and more of them appeared, helping finish assemble the machine, crawling over it like ants and just as comfortable with the height. The machine grew even larger than I'd seen it before. Meatier, with more lumpy protrusions, more cables hanging from it, and all the while, amid the crazed construction, a large digger dug a hole right out of the asphalt in front of the museum.

  Goblins wearing hard hats over their wigs put up red and white plastic barriers, guess they didn't want to ruin the surprise.

  "I think we need a new plan," said Dancer, eyes locked on the scene.

  "What was the old one?" I asked.

  "Whack them over the head and drag them off," he said, lips hardly moving.

  "Sounds good to me," agreed Persimmon with a bright smile.

  "Yeah, but we can't, can we? Not with all the Regulars here?" I said.

  "We may not have a choice. If they start this thing, when they start it, I have the feeling it won't just affect Hidden."

  I wondered if I had time for a hot dog before I maybe got myself mangled. Probably not. But death by goblin clown was not the way I wanted to go out. Who would?

  The Goblins Get Busy

  The blood roared in my ears, a cool, unemotional, detached violence I've struggled with every single day since I was reborn into this cold twilight world. Death raged through my system, increasingly volatile as blood magic mingled with my Hidden nature, something too new and powerful for me to understand or totally control.

  This is why wizards and witches take so many years to become adepts, why they learn spells and practice for decades, have tutors and are paced, made to take a long, steady climb up the magical hill, never reaching the summit. Otherwise, they end up like this, on one hand able to summon magic from the Empty, or in my case from inside myself, but unable to direct it with enough focus to guarantee they get the results they want.

  It can overwhelm you, take possession, and as much as anything it's a battle of wills. Your spirit has to be indomitable, you must bend these supernatural forces to breaking point, ease bac
k and make them do your bidding without becoming lost in the process.

  I was close to losing it, as I had more than one battle raging within. Blood magic and the more flamboyant, blast 'em and make magical barriers and all that stuff don't get along too well, and inside of me they fought for dominance, neither gaining control.

  I clenched my jaw and tensed my stomach so much my muscles cramped, reminding what felt like a second person inside of me that I was in charge. I was the one calling the shots here and if she didn't like it then tough.

  A laugh escaped my lips and Dancer and Persimmon turned to stare as I began to sweat and my tattoos scraped against my clothes like they wanted to taste the cool night and bring fiery destruction to all who stood in my path.

  But that wasn't possible, I couldn't act in that way, not here with so many innocents. What to do? How to stop the goblins before it was too late? Could we?

  "We'll just have to pick them off one at a time. There's no point getting backup as we'll just cause a scene and end up with everyone getting arrested." Dancer glanced at the heavy police presence. Men on horses patrolled through the crowds, other officers walked in groups or pairs, and several vans were parked at the edges of the fair, men in riot gear sitting in the back anxious to see action.

  The fair often saw trouble of one sort or another, and that's partly due to Hidden. So many creatures come out of the woodwork to let their hair down—if they have any—for this annual event, attracted by the lights and noise and the strange rides. It's a gremlin's idea of a great time to mess with all things mechanical or dunk into the candyfloss machine and spin around getting covered in sugar.

  Wizards loved the sense of mystery, witches came to socialize and cackle as they cast harmless spells, and for some reason trolls had a real thing for winning goldfish in little bags, wandering around with their prizes held aloft, looking immensely pleased with themselves. I won't even get into the stuff the dwarves got up to, but it often resulted in fights. The casualty department had a lot of odd customers the night the fair came to town.