Guilty Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 4)

by Al K. Line

  And then we stood, waiting while the hobs grouped close together and spoke fast and animated, arms waving this way and that, most of the discussion centered around Kate judging by the number of fingers that pointed at her.

  Then there was silence, nothing but sounds of birds watching from the trees and calling to others that there was something happening and to come watch. Then the world became a little more beautiful. Butterflies and bees came to the land, the chickens stopped squawking, and even the cockerel quietened down—where the hell had she got that from anyway?—and I swear that the windows at the house sparkled like they'd just been cleaned.

  Kate was forgiven and I was accepted. One hob stepped forward from the group and stood in front of us. We bent again and a truly ancient old hob lifted a hat made of bright moss with an acorn nestled on top like an egg in a nest off his head and he bowed a little at the waist. We nodded our heads in return and then a high-pitched call came from the hobs—I think it was a cheer—and they were gone, vanished, back to living with us but not. Dwelling in both our world and their own, an overlay of one reality on the other, both connected, theirs Hidden and full of magic, ours drab by comparison.

  "Let's go have a shower," I said to Kate and winked.

  "Now that's a good idea."

  Catching Up

  It was well into the afternoon by the time we'd exhausted ourselves in the bedroom and had some time to catch up and eat. I was famished and nothing could fill me. I was also beginning to feel tired, the day finally taking its toll. Or maybe it was my whole life finally catching up with me.

  But I was antsy, kept scratching at my neck, making it red and a little sore. It was like my life was ebbing away as the numbers magically morphed and I found myself less able to concentrate on what I had to do, not that I knew exactly what that was.

  To distract myself, I got Kate to fill me in on all the details of what had been happening out in the world, our world, anyway. It wasn't easy listening.

  There had been a number of fights after the major upheaval at House Taavi, clashes with vampires and other shifters that poured into the city to avenge their lost brothers and sisters. Plenty of other Hidden of the human variety joined in too.

  Many shifters had decided to stay, but they were understandably wary, taking residence in the old communities I had assumed would be left abandoned. I guess a free house in the city wasn't to be ignored, and Kate said she believed they did it to make a point that they wouldn't be beaten, would stand and keep what was theirs.

  The vampires were spread wide across the city for months, fearful and staying away from House Taavi that was no more. They were wild and out of control, the murder rate through the roof as they fed indiscriminately. It had taken a lot of work to cover up what they had done and those that acted too aggressively were dealt with by the Vampire Council without pity so numbers dropped even lower.

  It had settled down eventually and the majority were now back at the house they had left. There was unease but a new Head was put in place, and apparently he was doing well at keeping them in line. Kate had spent a lot of time there, finding her feet within the vampire community, discovering those that were like her and making a few friends for the first time, having as little as possible to do with the cold ones, the ones that simply did not care.

  She had fed when needed, using the list we had drawn up of those that deserved nothing but death, and even then they got off lightly. It still repulsed her, but she did it to survive. She said the guilt and shame remained and that was a good thing. Her punishment.

  But there were issues. She told me everything. There had been times when she felt herself drifting away, drawn to the coldness of the vampire, almost ready to accept it just so it would take away the hurt. It's understandable. The things they do, have to, can break a normal human being, so the attraction of embracing the life fully becomes greater—no more pain.

  It would always be with her, she knew, but she said each time she felt the pull of the darkness she thought of me, of us together, and of the despicable future that lay ahead if she accepted the hideous invitation to become true vampire.

  We both knew that once she felt nothing she would be lost, so she clung to her humanity as best she could, trying not to get totally immersed in vampire culture, just learning what she needed to about the Hidden world.

  Many other things that impacted her life were far from good. With Rikka ousted and the Dark Council disbanded there were a lot of disgruntled human Hidden flailing about without direction. Many were happy to see him go and welcomed a new era that didn't see their lives dominated by a bunch of out-of-date wizards, whilst others took advantage of the chaos and settled old scores without much fear of recrimination.

  Then Grandma of all people had been appointed to be a reluctant figurehead and she stormed through the country as a whole, Cardiff in particular as it's the seat of the Council, and cleaned up the city in a matter of weeks, pulling in enforcers from far and wide to sweep the streets clean of miscreants and out of control Hidden. Many were no more, some were imprisoned, others in hiding, but life had settled back down and as far as Kate could tell Grandma was doing a good job in her new role. I found it hard to believe, and she'd mentioned none of this when I visited, but I guess she had always got the job done and never flinched when making a tough decision.

  That did not bode well for Rikka. Kate had seen him countless times along with Dancer and many other familiar faces, but kept her distance a little, asserting her independence and not getting involved in the petty politics and fighting that has always been a constant in our world.

  She told me it all, and I was clued in on the way things worked now. Different but the same, a change but life carrying on as normal for most Hidden. Meaning fighting, squabbling, killing, one criminal element or another rearing and dominating, only to be usurped by another—the cycle of Hidden life, old wounds still sore but slowly healing.

  It all sounded so familiar. Shifters gone, now back, just new faces, new Vampire Head probably just as nasty as the last, wizards fighting, witches back to being how they always were, but numbers reduced because of the pact their old Head had made.

  The main thing was that Kate and I were together. The rest would find equilibrium.

  I found it next to impossible to drag myself away. I could have sat there and talked until my time ran out, but I was a fighter, I was stubborn, and I had commitments.

  Time to do what I did best. Dress snappy, bash heads, blast magic, and make up a plan as I went along.

  I promised Kate I would be back that evening, reminded her to leave out warm milk if I didn't return before dusk, and even said I'd be a good boy and not get myself into trouble.

  She just turned me around and slapped my bum, saying nothing about my fingers being crossed behind my back.

  Time to get Busy

  What do you do when you want to find out why you've been framed for the death of a faery? Mostly you panic. You can't just call and a faery will appear and tell you what you want to know. Even if you manage to get one to appear you will find them sometimes moody, sometimes chatty and full of joy, other times silent, always beautiful, terrifying and dangerous, and maybe even helpful if they take a shine to you or you give them a plate of carbonara—they do have a thing for Italian food.

  The problem is that they act as the Justice Department for the Hidden, and if you see one then chances are you're in trouble, and I was already in enough of that. Time was passing too quickly, though, and I had to do something, so I bit the bullet, called up the Chemist, and took a trip across the city in Rikka's now mud-splattered car and knocked on his door.

  For a ghoul he is very pleasant as long as you ignore the stink, the strange lumps, and the fact he looks like his face has melted off.

  But he's the man when it comes to potions of less than innocent intent, and he owed me big time. He was the one that almost got me killed the previous year with a potion I'd dropped that resurrected Taavi. Yes, it was my fault
I dropped it, but he could have told me it would bring you back to life even if blasted with the dark arts in a way I didn't even know I had inside of me. That was in the past. I held no grudge but felt he could at the very least help me out, maybe give me a discount on what I needed.

  After knocking, an arm like a burn victim's shot through the partially opened door and dragged me inside before I knew what was happening. Magic surged through my body then left just as quickly as I realized it was the Chemist and not some dude out to get me—which wouldn't be out of the ordinary.

  As the stench of potent alchemy hit, sending me dizzy like it always did and leaving me wondering if I'd walk out a frog or with two heads, the Chemist peeked his head around the door then slammed it shut, sealing us inside.

  "What the hell?" I asked, trying not to breathe but knowing I had to. It's a damn good job he does such excellent work, the best.

  "Better safe than sorry," said the Chemist, voice rough as if he had a mouthful of gnome gallstones, which he may well have—this stuff isn't made with herbs like Grandma's.

  "What's the deal? Why are you so freaked?"

  "Eh? Oh, sorry, Spark. Just being cautious. Things aren't as relaxed as they were in the old days before Rikka got the heave-ho. Some people don't take kindly to love and they get a little angry." The Chemist wandered over to his long workbench and peered into a large glass beaker with interest.

  I joined him, keeping my hands in my pockets. "You've been giving out love potions again, haven't you?" His version of a love potion is not what you and I would consider it to be. He likes to add extras, and many a client has ended up with their unrequited love getting a thing for the neighbor, or the neighbor's dog, and doing a runner.

  "I swear, I'm innocent. A lonely cat shifter came to me for help and I made him a potion. How was I supposed to know that the woman he had the hots for would run away with... Doesn't matter, I'm sure the little misunderstanding is all forgiven now." He glanced at the door then went to put the deadbolt across, returning looking more relaxed.

  "You need to be more careful," I warned. I have a soft spot for him, plus he's cheap. Usually.

  "Hmm? Wassat? Sorry, been keeping an eye on this beauty for weeks now. Don't want it to spoil." He held up the large beaker to what passed for light, a naked bulb, not even an energy saving one.

  "Doesn't matter. What is it?" I tried to peer inside but it was just a cloudy liquid with little lumps floating around, much like his other potions.

  "It's a secret," he whispered. "Let's just say the dwarves won't be too happy if they find out about it."

  "Are you nuts!? You're trying that again? You know what happened last time. If they discover you can turn rock to gold they'll have your head off. Leave it be." I stepped away, as if being close to it could taint me, make me a target for the dwarves. You do not mess with their gold and you certainly don't try to eradicate their way of life. They live to dig and this would ruin it all.

  "I can't help it," whined the Chemist. "I'm so close and it's become an obsession." He placed the beaker down carefully then turned and smiled wide at me, not nice when half his face is missing and you can see all his teeth from the side of his face. "Now, what can I do you for?"

  "I need something very special. Something spectacular, actually."

  His eyes shone with excitement. "Now you're talking. You got the moola?" He rubbed his fingers together; this was gonna cost.

  "You can bill Rikka. It's in his interest I stay alive as he has a little problem of his own."

  "Okay, no problem. I heard about Reade Littlejohn making his way down here. Rikka's a dead man."

  "We'll see." Then something connected. "You've heard? What have you heard?"

  "Spark, you are out of touch what with your little prison stay. How's that going, by the way? Ah, that's why you're here, right?" I nodded. "Well, I've been following his progress. Not on the news, of course, the giants are masters at remaining Hidden, but I've been getting calls from a few other ghouls across the country and he's getting close."

  This didn't sound good at all. "How close?"

  "He'll be here tomorrow or the day after at the latest."

  "That's just great." I was hoping to sort out my problem before having to deal with a marauding giant for Rikka. I came first, which I think is fair.

  "Yeah, he's been bashing heads the whole way down. Apparently in Manchester he took out a whole donsy of gnomes because they made fun of his beard. Said he looked like a girl because it was plaited."

  "That sounds about right. Anything else?"

  "When he hit Rhyl he showed up at one of the witch enclaves and demanded they feed him. The witches ran out of food so one of them tried to cast a leaving spell on him and he got seriously pissed off. Ended up eating a few of them and even made soup and everything. There was nothing they could do apart from watch and wait for him to leave after he'd finished his meal. Apparently he went back five minutes later to ask the way to Cardiff. Weird, but he also insisted on the scenic route."

  "My guess is that they told him?"

  "Wouldn't you if you'd had to watch while your friends were turned into mince and eaten with some tatties? That's what the Scots call potatoes, you know."

  "I know, I lived there for a while. Nice, but damn it rains a lot up there. Makes Cardiff feel like you're in the Med on vacation. So, he's close?"

  "Very. Unless he gets stopped, which he won't, then it's game over for Rikka. Shame, I liked him, and he was good as Head. But that's gone too. I don't like all these changes, it's hard to keep business afloat."

  "Me neither. Okay, back to the job at hand. One thing at a time."

  "What will it be, then?"

  "I need something to make me irresistible to the fae."

  The Chemist stared at me for the longest time then said, "Oh, right. I thought maybe you were making a joke. I wondered if I could use it in my act."

  "Nope, no joke. You'll have to come up with your own material for your gigs."

  "Um, so let me get this straight, you want to make a faery fancy you?"

  "That about sums it up. But it has to be just for one faery and it has to be able to call her to me."

  He clapped in glee. "I do like a challenge. It won't come back on me will it? You know what they're like. I don't want to be mixed up in the killing of faeries."

  "Look, I'm innocent. I didn't do it, I swear."

  "If you say so. Okay, sit over there. Give me the details and we'll see what we can do. No promises though, and this is gonna cost Rikka big time."

  "Let him worry about that." Reluctantly, I took a seat on his stained mattress. I kept my hands firmly in my lap.

  It took hours. But he woke me where I'd fallen asleep on his stinking bed and handed me a vial the likes of which I had never seen before. This was no suspect murky liquid, this sparkled more than my eyes when magic took me over. The potion shone with an intensity that lit up the room. A pure pink with sliver flecks of gold that danced as if happy to see me.

  The more I peered at it, the more I was lost in its beauty. My heart leaped and my stomach did somersaults. My mind was filled with love and it was all I could do to stop myself kissing the Chemist.

  "Whoa!" He backed away from me. "You have to be very careful with this one. It's incredibly powerful, made with only the finest of ingredients. That's genuine faery love in there. Those little gold bits, that's genuine love."

  "And why is it pink? What's that, faery essence or something?"

  "No, it's food coloring so it looks nice."

  "Oh, right. You're sure about this? Sure it will call her, make her fall for me?"

  "Absolutely. But as we discussed it does have limits, so don't go expecting a happy ever after."

  "Wouldn't dream of it. Thanks."

  "Don't thank me, not until after you've spoken to Rikka once he gets my bill. This stuff is priceless, and he's gonna know it. Here." He handed me a small black case. I opened it and inside it was lined in red velvet, with a little cl
asp for the vial. I sealed it in and pocketed the box. This meant it was for real. Normally he hands me a grubby vial wrapped in tissue and tells me not to lick my fingers.

  "Okay, time to go home. I'm dead on my feet."

  "See ya, Spark. Try not to get yourself killed, or worse. Get yourself free then come see me at the Hidden Club. I've got a week of short sets to try to finish my you-know-what," he glanced at the potion the dwarves would rip him to bits to suppress, "but then I'll be back and on better form than ever. I've got new material and everything."

  "You can count on it."

  I left and walked aimlessly through the streets of Cardiff for a while, becoming familiar with my city once more.

  It all felt so different, and I wanted to belong again. I needed to belong. Eventually I was too tired to walk much further so headed back to the car and drove home.

  Morning Perks

  Even though I was exhausted, I couldn't sleep. Kate had woken when I got home and slipped under the covers, but I told her to go back to sleep and she cuddled up, murmured how happy she was to have me back and that the bed felt all wrong without me, then was lost to her dreams.

  Being in my own bed, beside her, it felt unreal. Had it really been a year? And here I was, first day back and not even spending the evening with Kate. Stupid. I should just be enjoying the time we had together. But that was short-term thinking, and I wasn't going to give up on everything we had struggled so hard to build together.

  My mind raced and my body refused to quiet. I was all nerves and manic even though I just lay there, unmoving, feeling the warmth of Kate, listening to the sounds of the countryside, but mostly listening to my own mind, watching the madness parade across the blackness and wondering what the hell I was going to do if my plan didn't work. Plan. Ha! I had an idea, that was it, no real clue how to go about clearing my name if it backfired.

  The normalcy of the situation made it feel all the more bizarre. I was just in bed with the woman I loved, all perfectly natural. Why was I being denied a future where this could happen every night? Didn't I deserve that?