Guilty Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 4)

by Al K. Line

Rikka just stared at me, as if saying of course they were. He was right, it's not like you miss a giant making its way across the country, not for Hidden anyway. "He's coming. Dammit! Like I haven't got enough to deal with. We need to get this mess cleaned up, Spark, and soon."

  "You want me to deal with a giant? Are you out of your mind? How, exactly?"

  "I don't know, that's your area of expertise. You've never let me down before and I don't think you will now. We're in this together and we have a busy few days. We have the giant, I have to get my position back, at least on the remaining Council, and we have to clear your name."

  "So, just another regular week, then?" I couldn't help it, I had to smile at the absurdity of the situation. I should have stayed in prison, at least that promised to be quiet before I met a swift and painless death.

  "Don't tell me you don't love all this." Rikka scowled at me, but he kept tugging at his collar in a nervous fashion. It was more disconcerting than anything else. I'd never seen him so agitated. What the hell else had been going on while I was away?

  "I could do without it, if truth be told. Okay, what else? Where is everyone? No goons? No people working out, what gives?"

  "Don't you worry about that, it's to be expected. The new Head of the Hidden Council has been allocated many of my resources, and that means she gets the goons, she gets the Hidden flocking to her, and you know how fickle our kind are. Now I'm not titled they are staying away, those left, anyway. It's not the same, Spark, not since the thing with the vampires. That was one epic battle we won, but we lost so much."

  "Yeah, like the shifters."

  "Exactly. They were always my biggest customers here. It will right itself, never fear, but first we need to get you off to deal with this damn giant. He'll be here soon, we need a plan."

  "Haha. You know I don't do plans, I like to wing it."

  Rikka put his head in his podgy hands. "I know, that's what I'm worried about."

  "Oh, ye of little faith. Now, give me the details. How do you plan to get your status as Head back?"

  "I'm working on it. Actually, we are working on it."

  "We?"

  I felt like a fish in a bowl as Rikka lifted his head and stared at me from under folds of flesh. "You didn't get a lot of news inside, did you?"

  "I thought I had, but no, doesn't look like it."

  "It's Grandma, she's the new Head."

  "Haha, very funny." I waited for him to crack a smile, but he remained stoic. "You're serious? You can't be. She'd never want it, never has wanted position or power. It would drive her nuts. She doesn't even like me staying for too long, she likes her alone time. And she hates paperwork."

  "It is driving her nuts, yes. After they stripped me of my title they insisted she take it. They made her Witch Head because of you-know-who being rather dead, and they insisted she be Head of Council for us too."

  "I think I need to go see Grandma. Where is she doing all this leading from?"

  "Where do you think? She wouldn't move, so she's still in her little house, same as always."

  I nodded and got out of there as soon as I could, getting a phone from Rikka as they never returned mine when they released me. I couldn't take any more revelations. At least one thing hadn't changed, and that was that Grandma was in her house, the house I grew up in after my parents were killed, where she looked after me, where I lived while Rikka taught me how to use magic.

  It was damn annoying, but I owed him. I didn't even ask to get paid, I was so out of sorts.

  Time to go visit Grandma.

  I Hate Countdown

  I grabbed a key, winked at the receptionist, and made my way to the space dedicated to Rikka's fleet of vehicles. At least that hadn't changed. The SUVs were lined up like glistening beetles, strong late morning sunlight bouncing off the perfectly buffed metal.

  If the cars were gone then I'd know Rikka had given up totally. Why the hell he'd got so big again I couldn't understand, but people cope with stress in different ways I guess, so I wasn't about to judge.

  Kate wasn't answering her phone, so I assumed that meant she was still angry with me. I thought I'd been doing the right thing, giving her the opportunity to distance herself from me. Was that wrong? Guess it was. This love business is complicated, and I didn't know if I should go to her now, back at our home if she was there, or let her cool off a while longer. Did she even know I was out yet?

  I left a message, hoping she got it, but then the more I thought about it the more I knew where she was anyway.

  Her and Grandma had got closer than ever over the last year. She'd told me how great a help she was, and that they had become true family to each other the more they both stressed about me. Another reason why I thought it best to give Kate a way out. I really don't deserve her.

  She would be there, probably telling Grandma what a dolt I was, her agreeing. I couldn't believe neither of them had told me about Grandma and her new elevated position. Probably thought I wouldn't believe them.

  Yes, that's what I'd do, go see the new Witch Head—that was nuts—and hope Kate was there too and I could somehow be forgiven.

  Opening the car door, I practically leaped inside as new car smell greeted me. Ah, it's the best. For a few minutes I sat there, just breathing it in, enjoying the silence of my metal cocoon, loathe to move and get involved in all kinds of nonsense.

  With a sigh of regret, I got the engine started and headed into the city. My city, although it felt almost alien with all the changes. What a difference a year makes.

  As I drove, the lovely smell of polish and leather was replaced with a foul stink. Me. I should have taken a shower at the fitness center but that wouldn't make my clothes suddenly free of goop and blood. It would have to wait. There were usually a few suits at Grandma's, hopefully they would still be there.

  The left side of my neck was giving me grief, and I wondered if somebody was checking on me. It sure as hell felt like someone was in my head, watching through my eyes.

  Hidden don't do things by halves, and although I had been given my freedom until my sentence was to be carried out they didn't just let me go and make me promise to come back. No, they inked my neck, and within that ink numbers continually changed as they counted down the hours, minutes and seconds I had left—what I guess you would call a magical tracking device.

  I was linked to a nameless spell that ensured I didn't leave the boundaries of the city in a ten-mile radius. Meaning there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide—if I crossed the boundary my sentence would kick in early. Kazam! No more Black Spark.

  It ruined the tattoos I already had. Intricate, beautiful and deadly markings given me on my eighteenth birthday allowing me to channel the dark power of the Empty in ways otherwise impossible. I felt like I'd been soiled, and lifted my collar a little to hide it after glancing at the digits constantly changing in the mirror.

  Traffic was light so I made good time. Soon enough I was parked up and standing outside the small front garden of a house that contained the only constant in my life. Grandma, and now even that had gone and got ruined.

  I walked up the path and tried the door which, as usual, was unlocked. Wasn't she worried about someone, or some thing, coming to do her harm now she was in such a powerful position? Guess not, and anyway, that isn't how Grandma does things. She gives you a "look" and that would frighten away the most demonic of beasties from the netherworlds.

  I was really looking forward to a cup of tea. And a hug, she gives great hugs.

  Some Things Never Change

  "Why is your hair all curly? It looks like it's got bits in it. Are your stupid shoes muddy?"

  "Grandma, they're winklepickers. It's fashion. And my hair is always curly at this length, and the 'bits' are the dye. I like it." You can just feel the love, right?

  "You look like you can't make up your mind what color you like. And what's that on your suit? It's vampire, isn't it?"

  "Yes, Grandma. Sorry." Look, it's always like this. I learned a
long time ago to go with the flow. I love this woman more than life itself, and seeing her standing in her cramped hallway, slippers and housecoat on, her hair as mad as a box of frogs after you've shaken it, well, I'd never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

  "Tea's brewing, I put a cup out for you."

  "Hope it's the best china."

  Banter over, we practically ran to each other and hugged tight. I never wanted to let her go. Yes, she's crazy, thousands of years old and a potion-maker extraordinaire, but I would be lost without her.

  "Faz," hardly anyone calls me that apart from her and Kate, "you silly boy. Getting yourself locked up like that, so daft. You and Rikka have caused me no end of trouble. Do you know what the Council did? It's awful. You have to fix it." Looks like the list was growing by the minute, and that thought made me scratch my new tattoo, so then I felt depressed.

  "Let's go have some tea. I can't tell you how much I've missed it. The stuff in prison was like dirty washing up water, and they gave me vegetables every day."

  "You poor boy. Well, you're home now, and I made sandwiches. You hungry?" Grandma stared up at me, smile there as always behind the mask of old fragile woman all witches of a certain age seem to adopt overnight and then keep forever.

  "Always."

  I followed Grandma into the kitchen where the heat and humidity hit like a bucket of steam over the head. The extractor over the stove was rattling away ineffectually as always, massive pots were bubbling, noxious fumes poisoning the air, and everywhere were nik-naks. Stress faded away as I relaxed into a chair and stared with greed at the huge pile of sandwiches and the steam coming from the teapot spout.

  "God, it's good to see you and be here," I said, wondering how Grandma managed to be seemingly going about business as usual with her new position.

  "It's good to have you back. I've been so worried. So, what's the plan?"

  Grandma came over and sat, then poured the tea, thick, and dark as a vampire's bedroom. She stared hard, eyes wide like she would cry if she let them relax.

  "Have you heard about the giant after Rikka?" She nodded, like it was a minor inconvenience. "And that I have three days to get my name cleared?" Another nod. "And that Rikka wants his position back as Wizard Head, and Head of the UK Hidden Council?" One more nod. "You want that, too?"

  "Faz, you have to sort this mess out. Your poor old Grandma can't be in charge. They keep coming and asking me to sort out problems. The bigwigs even said I had to do paperwork. Me! And they want me to keep everyone in line and stop any fighting and go to meetings. What's the point of a meeting? Stupid. And it's all yours and Rikka's fault."

  "Hey, that's not fair. What could we do? The vampires had to be dealt with, you know that. You know what they did."

  "I know, but still. In all my years I've never wanted the responsibility. People come to me because they trust me, know I can help them, not because I'm supposed to be in charge."

  I sipped my tea while I thought. There was no way I would back out now. It was one thing Rikka asking for help, another when Grandma wanted the same thing. If she wanted out then out it would be. As long as I wasn't squished by a giant or executed in the meantime. I ignored the itch at my neck but it felt like the numbers were burning a hole in my skin every time the slight magical wave shifted as the cruel digits counted down.

  "I'll make it all better."

  "Good boy, I never had any doubt. Now, about getting you off from this verdict of guilty. I think what—"

  "You never came to visit." I couldn't hold it in any longer. Not once had she come to see me. She abandoned me. I drank my tea, trying not to act like a spoiled brat. Hell, I've lived for a century, I can handle a year without seeing loved ones. Yes, it was hard, but worse things have happened. Still, she could have brought me a cake or something.

  "I couldn't, and that's the end of it." Grandma got up and busied herself at the counter, stirring potions and generally fussing about in ways that were pointless.

  "Okay, Grandma, I understand. I thought maybe Kate would be here?"

  "She was, but she left. She heard you were out and went home, only a few minutes ago. Such a lovely girl," Grandma said brightly. "Why did you have to act like such an idiot? I've told you about that before."

  "I know, I know. I thought I was doing what was best for her."

  "Oh, being all melodramatic and being the better man, letting the one you love be free, all that nonsense. Get it into your head that she loves you, wants to have your babies, and she'd be dead if it wasn't for us. She chose this world and this life of the Hidden, Faz. Get over yourself."

  "Tell it to me straight, why don't you. Okay, you're right. I was just having a down day because of being locked up. I'll apologize."

  "You better," warned Grandma.

  I didn't push the thing about the lack of visits. I understood why she hadn't come. She couldn't stand to see me like that so acted as if it wasn't happening. Carried on with life and waited. That's Grandma for you. A year to her is worth less than to me. With great age comes a gradual shift in the way you see reality. Plus, she doesn't like prisons much.

  Who does?

  Guilty, Yet Innocent

  I couldn't stay at Grandma's, I had to see Kate. So after another delicious cup of tea and more sandwiches than my belly was happy with, I gave her a massive hug, promised to be in touch soon, and headed home.

  I forgot about changing my clothes or showering so I still stank, still had a slightly funny feeling nose and remembered that the plaster was still on so ripped it off—I didn't even yelp or anything—and weaved my way out of the city.

  Home beckoned, Kate even more so. Gorgeous woman of my dreams, saved from death by Grandma and I after being bitten by a vampire, now one herself. A woman that decided I was good enough for her, and she has a very nice bum. I've felt it and everything. I pictured her large blue eyes, the way her hair moved as she laughed, and I smiled.

  My mind raced as I processed all the new information since my release. Welcome back to reality, Faz.

  One thing I knew above all else, I had to untangle myself from the mess I was in if I was to be any help at all to anyone. If I was dead in days then nobody would get my undivided attention.

  What I couldn't fathom was how I could get myself out of such a predicament. I had been found guilty of something I absolutely knew I hadn't done. When they came and arrested me I expected it to be for killing Taavi, but that wasn't the case at all. Sure, it would have meant a reprimand, but it was Rikka who gave the green light for the action and him that took the fall for our revenge, even though it was entirely justified.

  No, I was accused of something much, much worse. The murder of a faery. No wonder the Faery Queen gave me the most severe sentence possible. I was just lucky I had three days to try to clear my name. It's such a stupid system the Hidden Council has. They can lock you up for a year after your trial and then they rush sentencing in a few hours. Then I was out, and inked with a death sentence.

  That's how our world works—endless bureaucracy then a balls-up right when you want them to take it slow.

  Well, I'd bash heads and cause a scene if it meant staying alive. I like being alive, it lets me get it on with Kate. Although, at the moment, I wasn't so sure that would happen.

  The trial was so rushed it was as if the intervening year hadn't happened. I had no defense, other than I didn't do it, but when you are accused of killing a faery there's little chance of a reprieve. The problem is you aren't really supposed to be able to kill them. The whole immortality thing.

  Fabianne Fils-Fedder, this was the name I was told was the faery I had murdered. Fifty years ago. Just like imps names begin with I, all fae names begin with F, mainly I think because they don't even use the names we get told, but are merely monikers for the human world, and even then I had never heard a fae name in my life before.

  They don't give you their names, as knowing them gives magic users power over the individual, and fae are not ones to give u
p power. Ever.

  I was charged with her murder, because another faery had said she saw me do it, and that it had taken this long for her to come forward because she'd been overcome with emotion and lost track of time. This is a problem with those from other realms—weeks or years mean nothing. Their time is not ours, and things happen at a different pace. Fae are renowned for never living in a linear fashion, but jumping around in time doing their job, keeping those that use magic in line.

  Even as I was being tried, all I could think of was how beautiful the Faery Queen's earlobes were, so I missed a lot of what was said. Totally unfair, and she did it on purpose too so I wouldn't stand a chance.

  But I had a name, of a murdered faery, information they had to give up, so I just had to get to the bottom of why some other adorable little dear wanted to see me dead.

  Coming out of my reverie, I found myself driving down the track to the home Kate and I had been happy in for many months, before life went to crap and the vampires, along with a number of rogue witches, came calling.

  The track was rougher than I remembered, the trees hanging closer. Looming in a menacing way, making it cool and like dusk. Rikka wouldn't be happy as the car scraped past, but no way was I walking and getting my winklepickers muddy. It was bad enough the suit was ruined but these were originals and in great condition considering they'd been prison wear for a year.

  Out through the tunnel of trees and into the clearing, things were far from how I expected.

  My memory of our country home was of well-tended gardens full of vegetables sprouting happily, a chicken house with the evil birds firmly locked away so I didn't blast them to hell for eating the seedlings, and up at the lovely cottage, the sight of geraniums overflowing terracotta pots, red flowers singing in the sunlight. I remembered bees and butterflies, the sounds of birds, land being tamed by our own hands, and a sense of harmony.

  Instead it looked utterly abandoned. Rogue chickens eyed me warily as I got out the car, pecking in the weeds and the long grass. There were a lot of them, and an uppity cockerel wandered about with its head high, telling me in no uncertain terms I was on his patch and better not steal his women.