Neon Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 5)

by Al K. Line

  A fox watched me silently from the shelf, sat beside the cash. It was golden, eyes revealing its intelligence, and as far as I could see it had more tails than it was supposed to.

  The men must have realized something was up, because they stopped talking and turned to see why the atmosphere had changed.

  "Howdy, fellas," I said, and then they each pulled a gun from their holsters and started firing.

  More Tales of Tails

  We don't really do guns in the UK, the controls are so tight that even gangsters prefer a more hands-on approach. I'd heard the same was true in Japan, but these guys obviously hadn't heard the news so carried on firing.

  I was prepared, and a strong shield of magic cocooned me against the onslaught, with one little, but significant problem. A bullet is very fast, and very small, and boy does it pack a punch. I felt each tiny lump of potential death hit my body then slam me back, not doing outright damage but bruising the hell out of me. It's also incredibly disconcerting seeing a bullet millimeters from your face just stop dead in its tracks—it's almost enough to make you turn around and go play with the trolls instead.

  But I held fast, smiled wickedly at the vampire goons, bosses, whatever they were, and generally tried to act intimidating so they'd back off. They had other ideas, and remained cool, calm, and collected as they stepped forward, still firing.

  I couldn't take it for much longer. Already the force field was weak and each bullet got closer and hurt more. How many bullets did guns hold nowadays, anyway? It wasn't my area of expertise, meaning I didn't know if they were using Glocks or Magnums, or if they even looked like this, or were still preferred by those in the know.

  Fed up with the punishment, I dug deep inside myself and felt the magic stir at my core. It swirled and tumbled out and away, taking the force field with it and slamming into the guys fast and hard, breaking two wrists and two arms in various places with a satisfying crunch as guns dropped and arms hung limp.

  They moaned for a moment before smiling right back at me, and I watched as their own blood magic reversed the damage and began the rapid healing process vampires high on the death of their victims are renowned for. Both of them hissed, staring in horror at the mess of the room as piles of notes swirled in the magic-rich air, and all the while the fox sat motionless, looking utterly bored, tails swishing now and then—it was freaking me out.

  With no magic shroud, the vampires took the opportunity to attack, but I hadn't come to die. As they shimmered and darted toward me faster than a Regular could blink, I lifted both arms, knowing exactly where they would arrive. I squeezed as hard as I could, fingers tight around their throats, forcing magic down my arms and through my aching fingers, spiraling into their bodies, mingling with their own corrupt magic until my will became real.

  These weren't strong vampires, I bet they hadn't even been in the life that long, just more gangsters that Kimiko had personally turned to fortify her position. They didn't know what they were doing, hadn't counted on something like this, someone as fast as them, anger speeding up my mind and body.

  They sank as I directed more frustration inside of them, clawing ineffectively at my hands, jaws snapping, drops of poison dribbling down their chins as their faces puffed up, red and gasping for air.

  "Where is she? Where's Kimiko? Tell me!" I screamed, my voice sounding strange. Desperate, ragged, dangerous and not my own. They shook their heads; they didn't know. Or maybe they didn't understand what I was asking. Where was my translator when I needed her?

  They were losing consciousness now so I loosened my grip a little and said, "Kimiko. Where? Doko desu ka?" They shook again, but they understood. My Japanese may be non-existent but I knew how to say where. "Okay, one last time. Kimiko, doko desu ka?" They were terrified, I could see that much, but it wasn't me, it was her. They would rather die than tell me, same as nearly everyone else I'd met that day. "Fine, your loss."

  I wasn't in the mood, and maybe another time I would have just sucked the magic out of them and left them alive, but I heard the shouts, sensed the fear from the two locked rooms as I turned my attention to seeking out the source of the disruption, knowing what I would find.

  As anger overwhelmed me, I forced murderous magic deep through my hands and into their bodies. It singed down their throats and burned through their central nervous systems, contaminating their blood. I let go as the magic took full effect, heating their blood, the temperature rising and rising until it was actually boiling. It erupted through their skin, their eyes popped and their faces basically exploded as capillaries burst and they vomited up their insides.

  "Sayōnara," I grunted, as I stepped over the bodies while they fizzed and spat, searching the desk for any sign of Kimiko's current location.

  There was nothing, and I knew I had other things to do first. It would have to wait. Reluctantly, yet knowing I wasn't totally lost to myself by showing compassion before personal satisfaction, I moved rapidly into the hall and unlocked the doors, bolted from the outside then locked, no need for keys with magic coursing so strongly through my veins.

  I yelled, "Abunai!" then blasted one lock after another, pushing the doors open quickly. A frightened young girl in each room stared at me with wide eyes, curled up on their beds, the rooms stinking of stale sweat. The sweat of men, the sweat of fear and of loneliness.

  "Free, understand? Go, go now." They squirmed, watching cautiously as I maintained my position in the hallway, hoping, and probably failing, to appear like a friend. I pointed down the stairs. "Free. Quick, go." They understood and each girl hurried from their room and down the stairs, shouting, "Dōmo arigatō gozaimasu," saying thank you in a formal manner, polite even in the face of such uncertainty and terror.

  I went back into the room to see what I could uncover, hopefully before the trolls made it back. I really didn't fancy fighting them in such cramped conditions as there wouldn't be anywhere to run away to.

  The fox jumped on to my head and started biting my face—I'd forgotten all about it, nine tails and all. Funny what you can get used to when in another country.

  I remembered what it was right around then—a kitsune. I just hoped it wasn't a... Yeah, it was. A kitsune-bi, fox-fire, the name undeniably appropriate as when I grabbed it and flung it away it shot fire from its tails. Magic fire that would burn nothing but one thing. Me.

  The fox faced me as I blocked the fire with hands still heavy with magic, and then it said, "Sorry about this, but I've got no choice," in a voice that wasn't spoken out loud but was in my head.

  "There's always a choice, and why don't you make the sensible one and leave me alone? I'll go, no need for any trouble."

  "Ah, if only I could", came the whisper, words but more of a meaning than in a language.

  "Look, it's been a long day, long life. I just want to go home, have a rest."

  "I too would like to rest, but my spirit ball is stolen. Kimiko-san has it and so I am beholden. I must protect this place, her sanctuary."

  It made no sense. Where would Kimiko sleep if this was one of her homes? Maybe there was more to the place than I'd thought. But no matter, she wasn't here, I was sure of that, and neither was anyone else now. Just me and a creature that held all its power in a tiny ball of golden magic and was unable to resist orders by the one that had stolen it. God, what I wouldn't have given for a straight up fight with a creature from home at this point, at least they made sense—sort of.

  "I'm really not in the mood," I said eyeing it carefully, tails swishing, fur bristling as it got ready for action.

  "Neither am I, but you killed Kimiko's men, now I have to kill you." The fox crouched low and its tails lifted high, white tips angled towards me. I wasn't sure how you went about killing a supernatural fox that had nine tails, we don't get a lot of that type of thing in Cardiff. Before it could strike again something clicked, an old memory of reading of such creatures long ago when I'd been in Japan. That was it, the tails. You had to chop off the tails to stop it.


  Sharp magic shot from my hand as I swept it from left to right like I held a sword, the silver thin and as dangerous as Intus' scythe. It crackled as it arced at the last minute, slicing clean through the top of a tail that erupted like a cork from a shaken champagne bottle, magic spilling out from the shortened tail fast and dangerous.

  The kitsune howled loud, the cry of an animal in distress, and it shot red fire at me in return. Nine bolts of death came right at me, the shortened tail still seemingly functioning perfectly. Nine ways to kill me and end the pain, but I wasn't having any of it.

  I forced the shield back around my body, reluctant and slow, felt my clothes burn as strange magic hit, and then I was saved from the full blast by my draining will. I patted at my jacket in panic but no sooner had I felt the flames than they were gone. Was it real? Yes, and no.

  Magical flames that burned and would act like fire but weren't genuine. Spirit flame that needed no dousing as the magic waned seconds after it was released.

  Tail docking it would have to be.

  Some Compassion

  Maybe it's a British thing, maybe it's a Western thing, but no sooner had the thought come to me than I changed my mind. This was a fox. Sure, it was trying to kill me, and sure, it had a lot of tails, but the thought of slicing them off, harming what felt like an innocent creature, made me feel like the worst kind of nasty.

  It wasn't a cruel creature, was acting contrary to its nature because of the power Kimiko held over it, so was killing it justified? Yeah, if a puppy tried to kill me I'd feel the same way, and look what trouble I'd got into already on that front.

  The fox attacked again, strong lines of fire tearing through the air at my head, the protection weakening as my hold over the magic waned. I had to act, and fast, or I'd be all crunchy and very dead. With hands still sore from the chewing incident, I decided on another approach and blasted over our heads.

  Again, and again, and again, I shot black balls of damage at the timber-clad ceiling, pieces raining down on the fox as it tried to jump to safety. It was fast, and nimble, but there was nowhere to go. As the vampires and money were buried, I stepped back into the doorway. The fox screeched it's frustration as an avalanche of wood and then furniture crashed down from above. Chairs, lamps, rugs and more came from what was a very elegant bedroom with nice furnishings—simple, but definitely the same style as the house with the old lady.

  Focusing on where the fox had been trapped, I saw with Hidden eyes that it was alive and unharmed, just held fast by the rubble. I had a few seconds so did what I always like to do during such situations—I ran away.

  I didn't even make it to the top of the stairs before pieces of timber and half a very heavy lamp smacked into me as I turned at the eruption of noise. Something clobbered me right in the head and I stumbled back, dazed, missed a grab for the handrail and went tumbling backward down the steep stairs.

  Some days I just can't seem to catch a break.

  Landing hard at the bottom against the closed door, the fox howled at me from the top step, angry fur bristling, tails ready to blast me into the next life.

  Ignoring the bruising to my body and ego, I pulled open the door from an awkward position on the floor, only to be greeted with the two trolls. They didn't look happy.

  At that precise moment the fox let rip with all nine tails, even the damaged one, and I crawled between a troll's legs as the full force of its frustration smacked straight into the two lumps of immortal rock. Large chunks of stone exploded in all directions; tiny pieces of shrapnel pinged off the buildings opposite. The trolls roared their annoyance but remained where they were as the missing pieces of their bodies slowly moved back across the alley toward them, making them whole again.

  I scrambled to my feet, amazed nothing was broken, and saw the fox move down the stairs with easy bounds to the threshold. It couldn't come after me, though, it was tied to the building to protect it. A reluctant guardian that would probably be in trouble, but maybe not as much as the trolls for their rather lax security.

  While the two stoic doormen got themselves back together—literally—I nodded at the fox, who nodded in return, and I got the hell out of there.

  Back through the alleys, ignoring the evil vibes of the lurkers and the murderers, I made it to the sanctuary of wider streets where the hustle and bustle was in full swing, where store owners stood at their doorways shouting and chatting with familiar faces. Everywhere I looked, people ate at food stalls and the streetlights bathed them in a warm glow of ignorance. If only they knew the truth. So many monsters, humans always at the heart of it.

  More streets, then the subway, confusion and pain my world as I navigated the bowels of the city, ignored by everyone, the everyman in a dusty, wrinkled, and torn suit. A crazy foreigner who didn't understand the ways of their world or anything else for that matter.

  One thing was for sure—I definitely needed that drink now. Then I blacked out for a while.

  On the Town

  Downtown Tokyo. Neon almost blinding as I spun in circles, getting dizzy as the crowds rushed past the disheveled everyman, covered in dust and blood, face haggard, hair in disarray. I was wild, hyped-up on violence and increasingly confused.

  Lack of sleep, the ups and downs of magic use, and the tidal waves of adrenaline were playing havoc with my system. I could neither think straight nor act sensibly, a crazy foreigner overwhelmed by an ancient culture, unable to understand the ways of an alien people. I was alone in a crowd of eighteen million people, seemingly all of them out for some action at the same time.

  The city teemed with revelers and those out to take in the spectacle that is downtown Tokyo at night. I staggered across the road, unable to recall how I even got here. I must have taken the subway but I had no memory of it, snippets of the journey only coming back to me later. In my confusion and utter weariness I was displaced, a man out of his own time and country, slapped down in a strange land, no bearings to center me and all landmarks unfamiliar.

  A tiny sign caught my eye and I swayed like a drunken man toward the bar, knowing that if it was Cardiff the state I was in would mean I wouldn't be allowed inside. But this was Tokyo, and besides, nobody would dare refuse me in my current mood.

  Next thing I knew I was sitting at a booth nursing a Sapporo Black Label, three empty bottles lined up in front of me like an accusation. I wasn't supposed to be resting, I was meant to be finding Kimiko. Failing that, why wasn't I at the hotel, curled up next to Kate and snoring away like a sensible person? Because I would never sleep again, that was why. Because I was out of my mind, frantic and despairing. I had to find Kimiko, I had to kill her, and I would not rest until I did.

  It consumed me, kept my internal fires burning strongly, dangerously so, and I knew I was shedding body fat at an alarming rate. This craziness us Hidden get involved in—or maybe just me—it takes its toll in so many ways, and I was over the edge, using reserves I didn't have spare to bolster my flagging senses. I would pay for all this in a major way.

  I downed the rest of my beer and set the bottle alongside the rest. Leaning back, I closed my eyes for a second but the room spun so I had to open them. Everything was blurry and I had double-vision, so I shook my head to clear it all away but it only made things worse. What was I doing? I had no idea.

  Two residences down, a wooden house with a fire, and fire itself. Was this two of the five elements? I got a sinking feeling that whatever property I chose next I'd be caught in the loop of the way the elements are arranged—invisible strings pulling me in one direction, maybe towards my doom.

  I was surrounded by superstition and an esoteric hum, a background noise of spirituality and magic entrenched in the culture. Wood to feed the flame, fire which produces ash to form the ground. Earth to mine for metal, and metal which attracts the dew which creates water, and water which nourishes wood. A perfect circle of the elements, me stuck in it. Maybe I'd just had too much to drink and it was all nonsense, but the feeling stuck as my emptines
s overwhelmed me.

  Time passed in a blur, and I must have ordered more beer as I vaguely recall a long line of them on the table, but the next time I came back to awareness was when I found myself standing up on a low platform, karaoke machine next to me and mike in hand.

  I was singing, "Oh baby, baby" and mangling what Britney had done so well—what? She did. My hips were swaying and I was belting it out. The patrons paid me little attention as most were more interested in their drinks or chatting—I guess my voice was as forgettable as I am.

  I sang louder, getting just as lackluster a response, trying to follow along with the words on the screen but I couldn't see them at all now as I was blind drunk and could hardly stand. Why on earth was I in a Regular bar, and more to the point why was I in a karaoke bar, and even more important than that, why the hell was I singing? I don't sing, I have a voice like someone was strangling a cat slowly while blowing on a bagpipe.

  The song finished and I bowed before stumbling out of the bar. I'm not even sure if I paid for my beer.

  Focus was impossible even though the fresh air hit me hard and sobered me up a little. I think maybe I was crying tears of frustration as the neon was clouded and people kept bumping into me as I weaved down the street, no clue where I was heading or what I had in mind. I told myself over and over to get it together, to not lose the plot entirely.

  There were things I had to do, important things, and this was no way to act. But I think I needed the release, the chance to forget my worries for a while. Stupid. Booze is never the answer, the comedown is always worse than facing your problems head-on in the first place.

  *