by Al K. Line
Contents
Title Page
Brr
Bit Rude
Why Me?
The Nitty Gritty
Aargh
Woo-Hoo
Here We Go Again
The Job
The Wild One
Space to Breathe
Never Deal with Kidnappers
Getting on With It
A Strange Woman
A Long Drive
Port, Shmort
An Emotional Time
Getting Somewhere
Strange Feelings
Coincidence?
A Break
Go, Go, Go
Yay
Ghost Ship
Eek
Devious
Somewhat Miffed
Back in the Thick of It
A Pause
Inspiration Hits
Kerpow!
Oops
A Warning
Strangely Agreeable
A Moment
Tidying Up
Obligations
The Hunt is On
All Sneaky Like
A Bit of a Cock-Up
Game On
Suddenly Cautious
Three Little Pigs
Recon Time
Familiar Sight
Confusion
We Make Our Move
Time for Wizarding
Um...
Calm Down
Munchies
An Explanation
And Now?
Off We Go
Making Plans
More Questions
Dirty Tables
Unexpected Answers
That Itchy Feeling
Old Friends
Careful!
What Could be Nicer?
Just for a While
At Last
Suspicions
An Ungodly Mess
Weirdly Normal
Dying a Little
A New Day
Some Hugs
Boring
Fun Times
More Annoyances
Too Old for This
Gotta Try
A Chat
No Rest for the Wicked
A Reunion
A Realization
More Surprises
Should Have Known
Cool Office
Stressed Vampires
Getting Nasty
Shame
Moving On
All Tingly
Decisions
Eyes Everywhere
Closing In
It's the End of the World
A City Awakes
It's Whatsherface
No Fair
Once More
Getting Annoyed
Breaking the Rules
How Much!?
Home for Dinner
Empty Heart
Wildcat Wizard Book 10
Al K. Line
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Copyright © 2018, 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.
Brr
Being married is a lot like toast. It's hard, but very enjoyable. Plus, you get to smother butter and marmalade all over your favorite thing in the world.
I smiled at Penelope as we disembarked from the plane, pleased to stretch my legs. As we walked across the airfield, I breathed in deeply of the damp early summer air. You know you're home when it's summer but cloudy and there's a fine drizzle that you think will hardly get you wet but soaks you through to the skin. I loved it.
A fortnight on a beach in a posh resort on a small island in the middle of the ocean had left me feeling antsy. If it wasn't for copious amounts of sex and more food than I was used to, I'd have gone out of my mind. Wizards aren't designed to relax in their swimming trunks, they need lots of clothes with pockets, and something to get angry about.
I was unsettled the whole time, expecting something awful to happen. For an utterly ridiculous series of events to unfold that would see me running around like a nutter blasting bad guys, and stressing about Penelope, my new wife, getting hurt.
Nothing happened, so I spent the entire two weeks on edge waiting for it to happen, and when it didn't, I became convinced that somehow the world had ended and the inhabitants and guests on the island were all that remained of humanity.
Seems that was wrong too, as the bloody plane was rammed, same as on the way out. It was obvious planes were now much smaller, or they believed every passenger had shrunk to the size of a small child with extraordinarily stumpy legs.
But we were home, it had been an awesome fortnight even with all the stress of it being lovely and nothing happening, and I was now a married man.
"You okay?" asked Penelope as we followed the line of passengers and entered the building only to stop and queue—definitely home.
"Sure. Pleased to be on terra firma, and back in Blighty."
"Me too. I'm all for taking it easy but you can have too much relaxation."
"Wow, it wasn't just me then?"
"Arthur, are you serious? Do you think I didn't notice you were out of your mind with boredom?"
"Huh? I thought I hid it well. And there were some very nice times." I grinned as I pinched her bottom. She squealed then reddened as people turned to see what the commotion was.
"Behave," Penelope whispered.
A man turned and stared at me, then Penelope. "I wish I had a nice bum I could pinch," he said, then winked.
"Um, okay, right," I said, flummoxed.
"I wish someone would pinch my bum," said a woman in her seventies three people ahead.
"That's disgusting," said a smartly dressed woman in her thirties. "Women have rights now, you know? We aren't living in the sixties. That's sexual harassment. Men!"
"Well, I'm a woman," said the old lady, "and I wish someone cared enough to pinch my bum."
It got weird. Half the people in the queue began discussing if it was okay to have their bums pinched, whilst the other half moaned about the lack of affection they received. Brits weren't like this, we stood silently in queues, grumbling under our breath whilst maintaining an orderly line.
Finally we made it inside the building proper and went to collect our bags. Ours came out first, and that was when I began to freak out a little.
It doesn't matter who you are, for some inexplicable reason I am yet to understand, every single person's bags are the last ones to come around that circular carousel. It's a law or something.
So as I retrieved our luggage and we walked towards the customs area, I panicked.
This was going well. Was this how it would be now I was married? Everything would work out fine, nothing bad would happen?
I hoped not.
Bit Rude
"I don't like your beard," said a tiny customs official in an oversized hat as we strode through the "Nothing to Declare" lane. I felt nervous, skin tingling, palms sweaty, the same as I always did even though I knew I had nothing I shouldn't. His words totally flummoxed me.
"Um, okay. Bit rude though, saying that. Nobody asked."
"Just saying," he said, waving us through. Penelope and I exchanged glances then continued on our way.
"What was that all about?" she asked as we exited into the arrivals section. I could see the massive car park through huge plate glass across the v
ast tiled floor. I couldn't wait to get out of here, out into the glum weather, get home, and have a cuppa. Why does coffee in another country never taste as nice as from your own kitchen?
"Beats me. Must be having a bad day."
We squeezed through the throng of people, the noise intense. Everyone was arguing a lot, bickering about how each other looked, about the weather, about their holiday, about being late, early, whatever. Guess vacation stress was a real thing.
And then all the background noise faded away as I saw a vision in green. My beautiful daughter, flame-red hair in tight curls, shining like the sun, smiling at me with an angelic face that brightened the dullest of days. George wore a tight green dress with bare arms and legs, with high heels. She looked so damn smart. She was her own woman and never followed the trends of other teenagers, favoring instead pencil skirts, frilly blouses, or retro dresses. She ran over and hugged us both.
"Did you behave?" I asked.
"Of course. I always do."
"Hmm."
"How's it been having the house to yourself?" asked Penelope.
"Awesome! Um, but I missed you guys, obviously," said George with a huge grin.
"Obviously. I hope you haven't had any boys over," I warned.
"Arthur!"
"Dad!"
"What? Just saying. Come on, let's get out of here."
"You should say thank you, you know. I've come to pick you up," said George, frowning.
"Oh, um, sorry. Thank you, George."
She stormed off ahead, heels clattering on the tiles. Penelope and I both looked at each other as if the other had the answer. "That was strange," she said.
"Sure was. What's with everyone today? Everyone's being..."
"Blunt?"
"No. More than that. Everyone's being honest."
We followed George out of the building. As we caught her up, I heard her say to a man who smiled at her, "You may think that makes me feel better about myself, but it doesn't. It makes me think you're a creep and might attack me. You look smarmy."
"I... You... I was just..." The man hurried away, looking sad and confused.
"What did you say that for?" I asked. George never acted this way.
"He looked at me funny." George studied us both for a moment before saying, "I think I'd like you both to never go away again. I felt lonely and I missed you." She put a hand to her mouth in shock. She was going through a phase where she never said things like that, kept it to herself.
"But," she continued, "you both need to stop treating me like a kid. I'm an adult now. Oh, and I did have a boy over, and I liked it."
She marched off, leaving me speechless.
"Something is very wrong," I said, my speechless phase not lasting long. It never did.
My phone rang. It was Ivan.
"Hey."
"Arthur, get over here right now. We have a serious, and I mean very serious, problem."
"What is it? Is Vicky okay? Are you? Will there be coffee?"
"There will be coffee, it isn't Vicky, or me. It's something bad." Ivan hung up.
"Honeymoon is over, babe," I said.
"Don't call me babe, it makes you sound like you're trying to be twenty. You're in your forties, so act like it." Penelope's eyes widened in shock. "Sorry, sorry, don't know where that came from."
"What is wrong with everyone?" I muttered, feeling well and truly put out as I chased after the two women. The women I lived with and who were now causing me to consider moving into the barn. Them, not me. I liked my kitchen too much.
Why Me?
George refused to drive, even though she'd come to pick us up. She wouldn't let us drive either. I couldn't be bothered to continue arguing after an exasperating ten minutes of her going on about how it scared her. We got a taxi to take us to Ivan's smart and expensive house, a building identical to all others in the row. Three-story Georgian with huge windows, white facades, shining gloss doors with brass furniture and black railings fronting them. This was money, yet understated too. There was no litter here, anything that drifted from the poor areas was promptly swept up by cleaners paid by the council. Keep the nice places spotless, let the ghettos fester.
It was one of the strangest drives I have ever experienced. The taxi driver let forth with an endless tirade against anything and everything. From his home life and his kids, to the state of the roads, the price of fuel, even moaning about the trees and the fact he found them annoying—go figure. All of this was interspersed with both Penelope and George repeatedly telling the driver they did not like him in general, and then they got into specifics about his facial hair, his haircut, even the color of his eyes. Everyone had gone nuts.
I was left bewildered and confused as I got out of the car and handed the guy his money with a nice fat tip.
"Cheers, mate. Most people seem to think a pound or two is a nice tip, it ain't. This is what I'm talking about." He grinned at me, scrunched up his already scrunched face at the women, sighed, then said, "Feisty pair, eh?"
"Yeah, don't know what's got into them."
"Good luck, mate, you're gonna need it." He drove off and left me to it.
Wasting no time, I hurried to the door which George had already knocked.
"You know I don't like this man," said Penelope.
"I know, but hush, someone's coming."
The door was opened by his aide, a woman I'd never been introduced to.
"Hi, it's Arthur." I held out my hand, feeling like I needed moral support.
"You are a very stupid man," she said. "We have met many times, you have been given my name repeatedly, and yet for some strange reason, or maybe you think it is funny, you refuse to acknowledge that we have been properly introduced. This way please." She turned and walked down the hall.
I glanced at the others for backup, but they just tutted and marched inside, leaving me on the threshold wondering if I could still make a run for it.
"Her name's Kim," called Penelope over her shoulder. "The woman you always refer to as the tall skinny one with the blond bob."
"Kim, Kim, Kim," I repeated. "Damn, I just met a Kim, didn't I?" I recalled Jake's girlfriend. She was Kim, wasn't she? How come that name had stuck but this woman wouldn't?
I steeled my nerve and entered the vampire's lair.
In the drawing room—Ivan was old-fashioned like that—Penelope and George were already sitting, and looking somewhat dazed. Maybe everyone was just tired? Tired of the weather when it was summer, tired because of the trip maybe? I know I was, in that way you get when you've relaxed for too long and feel more exhausted than if you'd just kept busy. Or maybe they were tired of me? Was Penelope regretting getting married? Did she regret us going to a tropical paradise and being wed by a local without friends or family? She said that was what she wanted, but now maybe she'd changed her mind.
Maybe I was the weary one and reading too much into this. Sleep, that was what I needed. I hated flying, it exhausted me, my body hurt from being cramped up, and the recycled air dried out my skin.
"Good, you're all here," said Ivan as he swept into the room looking like Death, meaning as bad as me, but that's a different story.
"What's this all about?" I asked, not in the mood for pleasantries.
"All in good time. Nice to see you, George, and you, Penelope. So, you're married?"
"Yes, we are. Look, Ivan, what do you want? I need to get home, I want to stare at my kitchen." I glanced around. "And you said there would be coffee."
"There is food in the kitchen, all prepared, drinks too. Maybe George and Penelope would like to help themselves?" Ivan stood aside and gestured to the door.
Penelope and George glared at him then George said, "That's not very polite. We came because I picked them up, so why should we leave?" I said nothing about us arriving by taxi because she'd gone mad in the head.
"It's business, dangerous business. I am thinking only of your welfare." Ivan ran a hand through slick short hair. If I didn't know him better, I'd
say he was stressed and showing it. He never revealed his emotions, he was more like a preying mantis, all angles, bony, slender yet with poise that grew more powerful as his position rose in the vampire and criminal hierarchy.
"Fine," said Penelope in a huff. "But I don't like coming here, and I don't like what you do with the drugs."
"Penelope, there's no need for—"
"It's fine," said Ivan, interrupting me.
The girls left and we were alone.
"Are they acting strange?" asked Ivan. "No, don't answer, they obviously are."
"Just tired, a little grumpy I guess."
"We have a problem."
"Yeah, you said. Get on with it, I wanna go home."
"First, congratulations on the marriage."
"Thanks."
"Everyone is telling the truth."
"Honesty's the best policy," I said, grinning.
"You don't understand. Everyone, I mean everyone in the city, and it's spread somewhat, is telling the truth. Someone has done something. There is magic afoot."
"Magic afoot? What is this? Who speaks like that? Am I on TV?"
"I do. And no, you aren't. Somebody has done something to everyone, people are telling the truth about everything. Have you any idea how bad that is?"
"Um, very?" My mind went into overdrive thinking about the consequences, the white lies everyone told constantly to keep the world turning, to get along. Without that filter there would be chaos.
"We need to deal with it."
"Hey, cool it," I said, standing and holding out my hands. "Since when are we the magic police? You're a bloody gangster and a vampire, I'm a thief. I'm not the magic council, the authorities. Get someone else to deal with it if you think you need to get involved. Somebody will sort it soon enough, I'm sure. But count me out. I need to get back to some honest thieving. It's been bloody ages since I had a job that didn't result in everything getting way too complicated."
"There is nobody else. In case you haven't noticed, it is you, and often I, who are at the forefront of all magic incidents and large-scale events involving magic in the city. Like it or not, we are the focus, the ones who deal with things. You dealt with the Queen, you dealt with Cerberus countless times, you were there when foreign invaders came. When anything of significance happens you are involved, as am I. This is our role."
