by Al K. Line
Empty Spark
I was empty of everything apart from hate. Evil personified. Taavi's promises of revenge and death would pale to nothing compared to what I would do to Yrjo if he had lain so much as a hand on Kate.
I came back to myself to find I was walking down the corridor to her apartment door. There were no fires, no shouts or screams, just the quiet of the night. Was everything to be taken away from me? First I thought I'd lost Grandma, then Rikka. Now Kate. Surely not.
Maybe Yrjo wasn't even here and I was just being paranoid. But he had nothing to lose now. Taavi had beaten him, me and Rikka had defeated him, and taking it out on Kate was just the kind of thing a petty, vindictive creature like him would do. He had nothing else left apart from revenge. A way to truly get to me. There was little to gain apart from a victory of inflicting hurt. That's what he lived for though. To be cruel.
I'd show him cruel. My heart turned to stone. I couldn't cope if I even thought about Kate and what he could be doing to her. I was a killer. Stone-cold. As stoic as a troll after a night staring at rocks. I would save my family. At that moment, I realized what Kate was to me—family. I wanted her to be mine forever. To be hers. Always.
There was no way in hell I would lose another family member to the goddamn vampires. Yes, I understood the irony. She is a vampire, blah, blah, blah. But she's my vampire. I love her.
As I got to the door, out of breath and on the verge of a panic attack despite my best efforts to convince myself I was just on another enforcer job, and be cool, calm, and collected, I somehow managed to empty myself. I had to, otherwise the sight of the unlocked, and partially open door would have been too much. Yrjo was inside. I knew it.
Anger that had built for a century welled up inside of me. The hurt, the shame, the feeling of being a failure for not avenging my family, surfaced until my emotions had nowhere to go but out. Manifest as my own personal kind of evil where I didn't care about anything or anyone apart from my own.
I stood in the doorway, gaping like an imp let loose in a sock factory, as an unexpected sight greeted me. My body turned to rubber, and somehow I'd misplaced my legs, as I watched the lights from the buildings reflected orange and warm onto the gray water through the large floor to ceiling window. I was displaced. The world in slow motion, vanishing as it was too much to deal with. My eyes unfocused then snapped to black so quickly and fiercely I almost lost consciousness.
Magic consumed me. It raged and burned. Ink screamed for release as I took in the room. Bizarrely, I noticed that Kate had a new blouse on I'd never seen before. It was green, with large white dots. It suited her, brought out her eyes.
Such eyes. They sparkled more brightly than my magic. Maybe it was her tears; maybe it was mine. I don't know, and I didn't care as I walked like I was on clouds. To her. To him. Still and silent. Yrjo watched me, smiling the smile of the victorious as I staggered across the room like a zombie leaking formaldehyde, except I was leaking tears, not preservative.
"Are you okay?" My voice came out strong and confident, surprising me.
Kate nodded. "You?"
"I've had better days. Has he hurt you?" Kate shook her head, unable to manage words.
They were sat at her dining table, a small oblong of Scandinavian design in beech with curved corners I have always admired. Uber stylish. It was centered to the window, with Yrjo sat to the left, Kate beside him, back to the window. He watched, saying nothing, just enjoying the show.
You know what I hate about men of true confidence? Men who won't be put down, who will always try one more time? It's the fact they are fooling themselves. True strength, the sign of a real man, is knowing when you are beaten and accepting the truth.
Yrjo was kidding himself, yet acted like he was in a position of power, still holding all the cards. He was a fool. But he was powerful, no matter that I had beaten him once, even if I had Rikka to help—okay, to do most of the fighting. No matter that Taavi had chased him away like an unwanted stray. Yrjo was too old to let such things concern him much. He was confident he would have his way in the end, assured and even cocky. I despised him.
He smiled, still silent. Just sat there with his legs crossed, looking like the ancient, cruel, cold and pathetic creature he was. Strong too. Just because Taavi had defeated him didn't mean he wasn't way out of my league in the state I was in. I'd used so much magic, been so sick, emptied of emotions and crying for sleep, but I didn't care.
I would use every last ounce of energy I had, would drain myself until I had nothing left and then keep on going until I dropped down dead. He was in Kate's home. Playing with me, with her, with all of us. I would see him dead.
The magic coursed through my body like pure fire, consuming me, taking what little body mass remained and using it to fuel my anger. I was nothing but an enforcer, here to do a job, save the woman, kill the old vampire. Everything else faded. I would live to see him dead.
I screamed. A pure, wild, throat-ripping sound I never knew was inside of me. It was the rage of a century. The anguish, the sense of loss, the sense of something missing all those years. Stolen years that weren't mine, but I'd taken from the Empty, still nothing but a blink of an eye to one such as Yrjo. I let it all out, emptied myself until evil threatened to take me and make me like him. No longer human, but a thing. A creature. An abomination.
"I'm going to suck the blood magic out of you and watch as you wither and die." I stared at Yrjo, my eyes black and hard. Silver sparks flashed in my vision like the knives of my anger as I felt the dark magic swell and converge at my center.
Still he sat there smiling, doing nothing. Legs crossed like he was waiting for a cup of tea.
I recalled half-forgotten rituals and the words I had mumbled in my youth to call forth magic in ways I hadn't used or needed for so long. Sucking in my breath, my chest expanded so hard I thought my lungs would explode as they filled. Magic spilled out in black, lumpy gobbets from my mouth as I became the magic and knew I would tear him apart into atoms and stomp on them.
My mind opened a locked partition to summon the darkness in ways I had forgotten. My arms spread and my tattoos bulged grossly, knowing what was to come.
He was fast, impossibly so. As if time had been stopped then started again, he was gone from his chair, somehow within my arms, face inches from mine.
"Don't think so, Spark." Yrjo spat my name like I was a bug between his teeth, and he stared at me with bloodshot, yellow eyes empty of emotion. Just a creature doing what it did, forcing itself on what it saw as little but a world here for its own amusement. To play with the lives of those with emotions and feelings it felt were nothing but weakness.
Power drained from me as Yrjo held my gaze until I broke free from his stare.
"Haha, you think you can glamor me? Me, I'm a goddamn enforcer, not some kid you picked up on the street."
Yrjo smiled and shook his head, hair shining in the weak light like a poster-child for vampires, vitality restored after his earlier encounters. He brimmed with energy and life. He'd fed on the way. Now he was full of blood magic and it had fooled me.
I stared down in shock as my side went numb. He'd done the one thing I had least expected. Sometimes it's the simple ways that are best, and I'd forgotten. I learned a very valuable lesson that day. I'd forgotten that all the magic in the world is one thing, but a small knife stabbed into a human being's flesh is still one of the most effective ways to kill a man.
Blood stained my red shirt, the color darkening as a numbness took me. I smiled right back at his confident sneer and sharp canines.
Magic spat from my wound, black and deadly as his blade. Sparks danced around the steel, still held in his hand. I turned, kept on pushing, magic now gushing from my mouth, my eyes, my hands, and my wound, as it clawed his nerves and muscles and the physical pain he inflicted on me was repeated. He stabbed himself.
"Spark, please," he said, smile never wavering. He pulled the blade and lifted it to his face. A wet pink tongue lick
ed our combined blood off the knife. Then he was gone.
"Faz!" He was behind Kate, silhouetted against the window, blade at her throat. The plan all along just to tease me, to make me watch and to weep as he took away what I cared about most.
"Say goodbye, Spark." Yrjo's hand twitched and the knife cut.
The Loss of Innocence
Everything is magic. It's all there is when you get right down to it. True Hidden are creatures born purely of magic. They live it, breathe it—in some cases—and their existence is solely down to the forces that originate in the Empty. But for humans it gets a little more complicated.
We are magic, true, but we were never meant to use it. Or maybe we were, and our life is destined to be one of pain. But it isn't inherent, not our birthright, so we have to learn it. Vampires are no exception. They are an aberration, a warping of magic. An infection, a disease, and they thrive and flourish because they can consume the blood magic in us all.
I turned it bad.
Yrjo's blade halted, even as Kate's skin parted like cream and the blood ran freely. I willed myself to go ever deeper as the magic spat from every orifice and the wound in my side healed like a zipper being closed—an act I would pay for, but it was nothing compared to the state of the rest of me.
I summoned the knowledge and power Rikka had taught me and I turned the blood of humans sour, tainted and wrong, as my arms spread wide and dark magic sparked and warped reality while it encircled the room. My anger and anguish manifest in the magic I could no longer contain, and burned the walls as it eddied around us like an infinite whirlpool.
Yrjo practically caved in on himself, and Kate slumped forward looking like death itself. All color drained from them both—I hadn't imagined Yrjo could get any paler—and I knew I wasn't looking much better. It was all or nothing, so I took the punishment, gasping for air and for life as every ounce of magic in us all turned bad. We were abominations. Usurpers and abusers of something meant to be pure.
Hands on my knees, fighting for life just like Yrjo and Kate, I flipped a mental switch and it was gone. The tainting spell, ward, or sheer determination of my thoughts and power stemmed the flow of the magical corruptions as quickly as it had begun.
I straightened, fighting the sickness that screamed for me, and ran across the room to Kate. But Yrjo was old, experienced, and strong. It was there in his every move—he would not be defeated again.
The knife rose once more. This time I knew he would kill her. Vampires may be able to live thousands of years, but they can be obliterated the same as anyone else. They are human even if they refuse to accept the fact.
"No." The air collapsed, the room heavy as I gave weight to my anger and Yrjo's hand faltered. He fought it, tendons taut and veins popping as he struggled to lift the knife. Then it was gone. I flung my right arm wide and away, taking control of him for a moment in his weakness and confusion. This was the answer—don't let him know what's coming next.
Yrjo raged against my magic. He still had strength, and I'd come to my senses, understood he would not be the first to die. The spillover was too great, so if I kept on pushing then Kate would be dead long before him.
He knew. He smiled. He rose and stood tall and proud, canines exposed, his hunger insatiable.
With no subtlety whatsoever, I blasted him. Magic, thick and evil, danced from my palms and slammed into his exposed side. He grunted but his own blood magic stopped me from penetrating his defenses. He may not have known how to summon magic the same way I can but he was so full of the stuff that he had his own kind of magic to protect him. Topped up over century after century, his body no longer anything like a normal human being's.
I leaned forward on the table, so close to him and Kate I could see the lust in his eyes, the joy of the fight, the anticipation of victory.
"She's mine. And you will watch as she dies," hissed Yrjo as once again he moved the knife, fighting the heaviness I cast around him while protecting Kate as best I could from the spillover.
I said nothing. I'm not even sure I would have been able to speak. His confidence gave me the edge I needed. As the knife moved I became the steel, thought of it as a part of me, made it so. It rotated, and I called on its essence and drew it to me. The knife tugged away from his hand in erratic pulls and then it was loose, impaling itself in the blond wood in front of Kate. She groaned and tried to lift her head.
"I'll see you burn in hell, Spark. You've interfered in my business too much. You will die." He blinked on and off, that weird thing they do when it's like they are on fast forward, erratic and jumpy movements as he darted first one way then the other. I couldn't keep up, didn't know where to direct my hate, but I risked it and with a hand on the table I slid across to Kate's side.
Gently, I put an arm around her and pulled her to her feet, protecting her, giving myself to her. Kate was almost gone, unfocused and on autopilot as I offered her life and dark magic and anything else I had to give.
She snapped back to consciousness but I could see she was far from well. Everything I did to Yrjo I was doing to her. The magic was too wild, his own blood magic deep and strong, meaning anything I did affected her too. My wild releases and his resistance filled the room until now it was alive with the uncontrollable call of creatures from the netherworlds as they clamored for access through the gaps in reality I had opened by calling forth more magic than I could cope with.
There was nothing for it, I let it dissipate, called back the wildness into myself, emptying the room of the buzzing and the madness before it overwhelmed us all and none of us were left. It was out of control and I had to reign it in before I destroyed the one thing I wanted to save above all else.
Kate smiled at me weakly as she gathered herself. Her strength shone through. I can't tell you the pride I felt just being a part of her life at that moment. She has more inner fortitude than anyone I have ever known—although I may be biased! She groped until I felt her fingers lock around mine.
"The... glass," she whispered, almost too weak to speak the words.
The glass, what about the glass? Okay, look, I was kind of preoccupied, and I forgot.
Yrjo came for us, fazing in and out of being, zig-zagging one way then the other, me unable to direct my magic at him in a controlled manner as I had no idea where he was or would be next. Closer and closer, like when you play Statues and turn around to find somebody standing next to you.
The glass. It was tinted. A rather overly optimistic aspect of the highly engineered German pane to stop the sun's rays bleaching the floor or ruining the view. I smiled at Kate, nodded and said, "I'll buy you a new one." Yrjo was right up in my face, mouth open, fangs dripping a clear liquid. The venom. The virus of the vampire. Soon I would be one of them.
As the sickness overwhelmed me, and the magic returned to the Empty, I slapped my hands together as I spun, releasing Kate for a moment. A black line of hope erupted from my damaged hands, hitting the window with a satisfying crack that promised a way to survive. I watched, mesmerized, as a spider's web spread from the center before the massive pane shattered, exploding outward and falling to the street below like the dreams of frozen hearts.
He was on me, and I fell, my grip on Kate missing as I slammed into the floor. Pain shot up my elbow, a strangely satisfying sensation—I knew I was still alive, could feel. Was human.
Yrjo pushed Kate aside. She sank back into herself, too weak to resist. She retched and was on her hands and knees, the magic claiming her, making her too sick to do anything but cough and moan, not experienced enough to ward off the overwhelming power of the Empty that still remained and sucked life from the room. Yrjo was over me in a flash, bending and ready to claim me.
I smiled, and he paused for a moment, confused and uncertain.
The weak gray dawn spilled into the room but it wasn't light enough, just a taste of the day to come. A hint that maybe, just maybe, it would be a return to the weird days of summer that surprised the nation. But the sun wasn't up, just
a glimmer of light, breaking the dawn as the seagulls called their morning greeting.
He was weaker though. Not much, but a little. No longer as powerful as he would be at night. The faint hint of day took something from him. I think it must be the hope, that is why for the old ones the daylight is so anathema to them. It's a promise of a new day, of the chance to start over again, to be happy. New beginnings. All they want is an end to things.
He smiled at the day, knowing he had plenty of time before the sun would make him too weak to do little but run and hide then wait for night.
Yrjo bent to me and I smiled back again, inviting him to do it, giving him permission. He was confused but his head lowered.
He opened his mouth wide to bite me.
Taking it all Back
With what little strength remained, I slammed my hands either side of his head with a satisfying slap—it was like high-fiving a dead fish. Gripping his skull, I dug in my fingers, pinkies catching either side of his mouth, keeping the mouth parted, fangs exposed.
"You're mine now. I'm taking back what you've stolen."
I saw it, the recognition in his eyes. The desperate vampire's pupils dilated and the nostrils of his perfectly straight nose flared wide. Then I sucked, breathing in for all I was worth.
This is what I do, my specific skill that became clear from a very early age. I can blast the dark arts with the best of them, but it has its limitations. There aren't unlimited ways an individual can use dark magic. There is the option to summon things, nasty things, but they are uncontrollable and you risk your sanity. I can put up defenses to guard myself from attack, but that's not much good when it leaves the person you care about most in the world alone and vulnerable.
Ready to wreak havoc, was the ability I had to destroy buildings by finding the weakness, but who wants untold tons of brick and timber crashing down on them? Magic is no panacea for all problems. There are only so many ways you can use it in a fight, especially against something as powerful and timeless as Yrjo. He was strong because of the amount of blood magic he had consumed over more years than were fair, meaning whatever I did to him needed all I could give, and I wasn't exactly at my strongest.
