Guilty Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 4)

by Al K. Line

  Contents

  Title Page

  Trouble Brewing

  A Separation

  A Taste of Freedom

  Step, Then Shimmer

  Old Friends

  A Deep Hunger

  Bad Timing

  Not the Same

  A Broken Man

  The Problem With Giants

  I Hate Countdown

  Some Things Never Change

  Guilty, Yet Innocent

  Forgiveness

  Trouble at Home

  Angry Hobs

  Catching Up

  Time to get Busy

  Morning Perks

  Small, but Perfect

  Getting Cosy with the Fae

  A Close Shave

  Thinking Things Through

  A Strange Attraction

  Being Used

  Feeding Time

  Things get Messy

  Lost in Hell

  A New Head

  Lost Time

  Putting the Pieces Together

  Apologies All Round

  Witch HQ

  Strange Meetings

  Promises

  Chasing Giants

  Ephemeral Encounters

  A(nother) Ghost from the Past

  Don't Hit Girls

  Misinformation

  Running Around in Circles

  Getting Stressed

  An Evening at Home

  Intus is Depressed

  Back to Black

  Empty Streets, Crowded Mind

  You

  Talk About Bad Timing

  Sneaky Damn Fae

  A Giant Problem

  Love is Blind

  How to Kill a Giant

  A Resurrection

  No Rest

  Guilty Spark

  Dark Magic Enforcer Book 4

  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.

  Trouble Brewing

  I don't do nervous. Okay, that's a lie. I get nervous around women—those I fancy, anyway—and I get nervous around two-thousand-year-old vampires, because, you know, teeth and evil and utterly terrifying. But give me a troll, a shifter, a zombie, or a succubus, and I can stay cool, calm, and collected. I've got the scars to prove it, and everything.

  As I stood, hands in cuffs, and faced the stern faces of Heads from various Councils and the Head himself, Severi Sakala, I was as nervous as a frog in a witch's cauldron and seriously wishing I'd spent the last hundred years growing old gracefully rather than perfecting my arts as a wizard.

  I was about to be sentenced, and I wasn't going to get a slap on the wrists and be told not to do it again. There was no magic I could use in the courtroom, it was strictly off-limits, and even if I could it would have done no good, so I stood tall, held my head up high, and looked the Fae Queen in the eye as she passed sentence.

  "Faz Pound, also know as Black Spark, number one enforcer for the disgraced mage Rikka, you bring shame to all Hidden. The day your sentence will be carried out is pending, further our consideration in private. The punishment, however, shall be disclosed forthwith. For your crime, heinous and foul as it is, there is only one sentence suitable. Your punishment is death. Take him away."

  The tiny gavel hit the block. The Fae Queen's gossamer wings moved in a beautiful blur and I caught sight of earlobes so sweet and delicate I found it hard to stand as my legs turned to rubber and my head went all fuzzy.

  She rose above the table and looked to her fellow Council members; they nodded.

  The spectators stirred from their utter focus on proceedings but silenced when Severi raised a hand—this wasn't over yet. He knew it and so did the Queen.

  She caught my eye and stared at me hard—she loathed me. There's nothing worse than feeling the ire of such transcendent creatures. I got nothing but looks of contempt from the Heads—hate, that's what they emanated. Disgust, loathing, even disappointment.

  The imps weren't happy with the sentence as we've always got on and they believed in my innocence, the trolls were as impassive as always, the elves just smiled that sinister smile they always have, emotions unreadable, but the vampires, they were loving it.

  It was kind of ironic. The vampires, who for as long as there had been such a creature had fought against being made to cow-tow to the Council, believing themselves above such things, were finally pleased to be included, just to see me destroyed.

  I nodded at the Queen as if to say I understood she had no choice given the circumstances, but she turned away. I didn't blame her, the evidence was something she couldn't ignore, so I was guilty, at least in their eyes.

  The trolls either side of me grabbed an arm each and moved to take me away.

  "Wait. Do you forget our Laws, our ways? I invoke my rights." You have to speak formally in these situations, it's an unspoken rule you find it impossible to defy. Like whispering in libraries or shouting at imps. "I claim my right to be free of bondage until the day my sentence is carried out."

  "Granted. Once we have chosen the day of your execution, you have three days before then to make peace with the world, and yourself." The Fae Queen ignored the murmurs and shouts of protest from Council members and Heads, banged her gavel down hard again, and said, "Take him."

  The vast courtroom erupted into noise. Every bench, every balcony, every inch of standing space was crammed with Hidden of every possible nature. They cheered, they shouted, they moaned, some even cried, but mostly they roared their agreement, their pleasure at me finally being sentenced after a year in prison awaiting my fate.

  The trolls led me from the courtroom.

  I was, and I'm not exaggerating, totally screwed.

  A Separation

  During my year of incarceration before sentencing, I distanced myself from Kate. It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Harder than being locked up, or even knowing the result of it all would be my death. Tougher than believing Grandma was dead, or being orphaned, because I knew it meant I would be alone for what little time I had left. Just me again, without the love of a woman I adored with every ounce of my being.

  I had to do it, because I'm bad news. As the days passed by in a repetition of sameness that was somehow a comfort, and I sat in my cell with nothing but my thoughts, I came to understand one awful truth about myself and the life I lived. I wasn't worth the bother.

  Ever since I'd hooked up with Kate, and even before, I'd brought her no end of trouble. I'd got her involved with rogue vampires that tried to kill her in her own home, got her mixed up with Taavi and his plan of absolute domination, and she'd fought to the death and still had to watch Plum die. I'd gone to Kate in times of need after I screwed up and all she got in return was grief. So, for her own good, because I am a selfish man and don't deserve to be happy, I told her we were through.

  It took a year for me to build up the courage to say it, for me to accept it was for the best, and anyway, I would most likely be dead soon, although I would do my best to not let that happen.

  I never knew there were so many tears inside a human being. Not hers, mine. I cried like a baby as I sat across from her in my cell and told her all this, and more
. Intimate things, secret things, things between her and me I will never tell another living soul.

  For the first time in my life, I spoke of the depths of my emotions, of my love for her and how she made me feel whole. I spoke honestly about the private times we'd shared and the utter joy she gave me when we were together or I saw her smile or shake her head in that delightful way she does.

  And I told her we had to end it. I attracted death like the dude with the scythe himself; she had to stay away from me. I was dangerous, bad news, and I didn't deserve her. She certainly didn't deserve me and the hurt and pain I allowed into her life. She should forget about me. I cried, kept on crying, my red shirt soaked—yes, I was allowed my own clothes and I dressed smart every day as I do have standards. It was like I was constantly being topped up with tears and they wouldn't stop.

  All of this she allowed me to say, standing in my cell with her arms crossed, face impassive until I was out of words. It was best to do it now, mere hours after my sentencing. Who knew how long until they actually set a date? After all, they'd tried and found me guilty a year ago, yet made me wait this long to hear my sentence.

  Then she slapped me across the side of the head and the tears stopped. Not just any old slap. No, this was a whack with vampire intent. I flew across my cell, slammed face-first into the wall, and felt pain to rival calling magic from the Empty as my nose split and I crumpled to the cold concrete floor trailing blood as I went.

  "Idiot. I love you. You're stuck with me, Faz. You saved me from dying, gave me a choice. I chose life. I choose you. Now, and always." And with that she nodded to the amused guard who unlocked my cell. With my eyes full of tears and my mouth full of blood from my streaming broken nose, I heard rather than saw the door bang shut.

  Feeling, I think understandably, a little sorry for myself, I sat on my bunk and tried to straighten my nose but other things hurt more so I gave up on it. Instead, I wandered back and forth making a mess of the room.

  Three hours later, after another visitor that did something despicable to me, I was being escorted from the prison and found myself unceremoniously dumped outside on the front steps.

  The sky was clear and blue, I had a plaster across my nose, and my suit was wrinkled and covered in my own blood.

  Oh, and there were a dozen really pissed off vampires waiting for me.

  Guess that's what happens when you send an army of the resurrected dead to storm vampire HQ and kill the most powerful vampire in the country in a blast of magic-induced sunlight.

  I'd had better days.

  A Taste of Freedom

  Being the friendly guy that I am, I said, "Nice day for it," to the snarling crowd, vampire venom dripping from a dozen mouths as I was greeted with sneers and the oozing of malevolence. They were really good at it, had it down to an art.

  Then I turned, thinking maybe I'd go back to prison, as at least they don't eat you there. The heavy wooden doors were shut, my silent escort gone. What the hell? What kind of way was this to release a guilty man and give him a few days to sort his life out before he got sent off on the final journey? Maybe this was their way of getting the job over and done with without dirtying their hands?

  A little warning about my release would have been nice. Being let out the back door even better. Kate was nowhere to be seen and as far as I knew nobody had been informed of my release. That's Hidden bureaucracy for you—moves at a snail's pace then gets rushed right at the important bits. They did it on purpose, I'm sure, just so I wouldn't have time to get my last few days organized. Heck, I hadn't even been certain they would stick to this particular Law it was so old, but I'd studied up and there wasn't much they could do to stop me having this right.

  So, even though I wasn't keen, I had no choice. Fighting vampires it would have to be. I turned back to the hungry crowd and gave them my most winning of smiles, which stung like hell as my nose creaked and grated.

  Getting my act together, I let magic worm its way through my ink, up my throat and into my sinuses. I felt the repair job at work instantly. It hurt more than it already had, though, as cartilage knitted back together. In a day it would be as good as new. Maybe a little wonky, but that gives a man character, right?

  I checked the streets, just in case someone was coming to my rescue. Nope, just traffic driving past a small nondescript house, like the Tardis inside and hiding in plain sight. There were even empty milk bottles on the step—who knew you could get it delivered these days?

  Guess I was on my own. No friends, no family, no ride home. Just vampires. I breathed in deep, took in the fumes and felt more relaxed than I had in a year. Ah, the smell of the city, of home. And freedom. Plus, the stink of cruel vampires and death, mustn't forget about that.

  "Okay, look, I am absolutely, one hundred percent, most definitely not in the mood for any of your crap today. You lot may as well leave now, as if you so much as look at me funny again I will send you to the same place as Taavi, your dead master. Who, in case you have forgotten, was killed by me. I've had a year in this hellhole to get stronger than ever, and I will blast you to teeny-tiny bits if I see a single fang. Do I make myself clear?"

  I stared them down, and most shut their mouths and averted their gaze, knowing better than to try to glamor me. Yes, I was being dramatic, but I wasn't lying about being stronger.

  The whole time I was inside, I spent the majority of my waking hours doing three things, in this order. Feeling sorry for myself, perfecting my mastery of the Empty, and exercising. I stood there, nose like a third-rate boxer, looking as if I'd slept in my clothes, but my body was brimming with vitality. I even had muscles, well-developed for the first time in my life. My usual boiled-egg biceps were more like baseballs, and magic could be called to flow through me in ways I thought were many more years of practice away. I would kick their asses, I wasn't joking about that.

  Problem being, I'd also get killed. I was good, but couldn't go up against twelve vampires and not get taken out eventually.

  A few vamps, the cocky ones, or maybe the ones with nothing now left to lose, stepped forward.

  "Don't say I didn't warn you." I took a step down.

  Yeah, I was free, and freedom tasted icky.

  Step, Then Shimmer

  At the edge of the road was a faint shimmer, as the magical shield that kept activity at the prison door off-limits to Regulars intensified. It could sense trouble and would hide our magic use from the world. Why that didn't include stopping me from being attacked was a mystery, but there you have it. Time to get busy, nobody was coming to my aid.

  I watched as people walked down the street on the other side, something telling them to cross, the magical influence of the safety-net put into place many years ago when the prison for magic miscreants was first commissioned. Heck, I'd put a lot of those inside there myself, and they were pleased to see me, but not to shake my hand and say all was forgiven. That's why I stayed in my cell a lot, not that I had any choice.

  Before my foot even hit the step my tattoos came alive, singing with the chance to do some damage even though I had other things on my mind. Magic had coursed through them daily for a year, but practice and real action are very different beasts. This was their true purpose, to let the glorious dark magic flow through them strongly, channel power and wild energies in ways that could inflict damage or draw the magic out of others and leave them dried up, nothing but a Regular. They also fed the addict, and boy had a year in prison made me more of an addict than ever before.

  Relentless boredom drives a person to extremes, taking his pleasures where he can, and my vice was on hand every hour of every day.

  My body felt light, topped up to the max with a lethal combination of stolen magic and a craving for life and liberty. Here I was, a man addicted to violence and gorging on elemental forces, ready to overdose in a combat situation after going cold turkey for a year.

  I was brimming with the stuff. Ink as fat as eels, crawling and writhing over my body, dark and popping, wis
ps of hellish destruction sparkling as dangerously as my eyes as they snapped to black. Reality split asunder, the truth exposed. My vision expanded to take in the magical world and see the true nature of the creatures before me.

  I saw them all right, in all their foulness.

  "You ruined our lives," hissed a man with a voice like he was chewing rocks and an outward appearance of early forties, yet I knew the truth—two hundred years old if he was a day, and nasty through and through. He shone dark and dangerous, blood magic trapped in his corrupted veins. I could see his intentions, same as the others that weren't already thinking it was a bad move to come attack me for what I'd done.

  I said nothing, took another step and then five of them moved at once, doing the old vampire dance. They vibrated as if shaking on the spot, bodies a blur, then darted forward faster than the human eye could see. But I was different now. I saw them, watched the abominations move in their weird shuddery way, my magic-enhanced vision revealing the course they would take and where they would come to a stop—at my neck, biting down and draining me of the tremendous power I now held.

  So I ducked, simple as that.

  Five vampire heads clashed together with a nasty crack, bringing a smile to my face as I grabbed one by the leg and sent a shock wave of pent up anger and frustration deep inside him. Magic invested with my own intent traveled up through his torso, melted his innards to molten goo then came out of his head and repeated the same action over and over on the remaining still connected vampires. It fried all five of them in a physical manifestation of my need for freedom and downright hate for these creatures that refused to leave me the hell alone.

  Less than gracefully, I crab-crawled out from the tangle of scorched flesh and stood aside, brushing down my now ruined suit, seared and stinking of vampire where their bodies had burst through their clothes.

  Already they were healing, some faster than others, the strong blood magic taken over centuries enough to repair the damage, but I gave them no time.