Black Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 1)

by Al K. Line

  "What?" he said as way of answering.

  "Fancy doing me a favor?"

  "What do you think?"

  "Okay, let me rephrase. How would you like to earn a favor in return from me?"

  "Make it two. I do this, and you owe me two favors. No debate."

  I thought it over. I had no choice. "Fine. Meet me at your favorite place."

  "Be there in half an hour," said Dancer, the excitement in his voice clear.

  "Make it an hour." I snapped the lid closed and headed to meet a vampire.

  My Favorite Vampire

  Favors in our world are different than in the Regular world. They don't come with questions or limitations. I'd signed my life away with Dancer by offering two favors. He could ask me anytime for pretty much anything in return, as long as it didn't break our rules.

  Still, I could see little alternative and that was in the future, not now. Now was what I was worried about.

  The dumb bear had given me a moment of clarity as the magic welled up. I'd let it flow for a moment and I suddenly knew what I had to do to solve the problem of the magic show I'd given that morning. I had to make it a lie. I had to undo it.

  How?

  I had to convince the world that what they'd seen wasn't true. That there was no magic in the world and the Grandmaster had not been killed, and that everything was hunky dory—carry on as normal please, nothing to see here.

  First things first. Stop off at Kate's, then meet Dancer at the morgue. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Yeah, right.

  Driving through the congested streets of Cardiff, it was clear that the circus I had created was just getting worse. There were TV vans everywhere you looked, all trying to get a scoop on the death of the Grandmaster and make it to the park where it had happened. What a nightmare.

  It wasn't just the TV crews and the police though, and traffic was heavier than on match day at the Millennium Stadium. It was pandemonium.

  People couldn't stay away from such things. They wanted to be a part of it, gape at the scene of the crime even though there would be nothing there now. The body would be gone, I was sure, or it would be in an hour or so by my reckoning. Plenty of time for me to have a chat with Kate then meet Dancer.

  Okay, my plan was stupid, but I'm an enforcer, not a miracle maker.

  *

  I made it to Kate's in half an hour, and trust me, it should not have taken that long. Cardiff is small, and there aren't many routes you can take to get somewhere, but still. I hate traffic, it's one of the reasons I usually enjoy this small city so much—apart from match days it's a breeze to travel around.

  Kate lives in one of the converted dockland buildings. A huge red brick structure the developers didn't actually ruin when the city underwent a major overhaul. She has a nice spacious apartment she keeps in a condition that would make any estate agent proud—some would call her fussy, I'd call it having respect for where you live.

  Anyway, I knocked on Kate's apartment door, then knocked some more, then some more. After five minutes she finally opened the door on the latch and peered at me, bleary eyed.

  "Did you bring coffee?"

  "Um, no. Sorry. I'm kind of preoccupied." I should have brought it. I wanted a favor, after all.

  Kate peered at me with sleepy eyes, as if deciding if I was worth letting in sans caffeine, then slammed the door and removed the chain. She left it open a crack and wandered back down the hall into her kitchen.

  I entered, and tried not to gape at the sight of her scratching at her well-rounded backside in just a pair of panties. I'd have to tell her to put something over her sleep attire, as the sight of women in panties and vest, all tussled and wild looking after sleep, does nothing for my concentration. Especially when it's Kate.

  She padded barefoot ahead of me across an immaculate floor, like it had just been laid, and I tried to stay focused on the gloss of the wood rather than the shine of her skin.

  In the kitchen, she yawned then flicked on the kettle. Continuing to ignore me, she got out two cups and spooned instant into them both. I got the milk from the well-stocked and orderly fridge.

  "Have a nice sleep?" I asked, not wanting to get too serious too quickly.

  "I was. Until someone woke me up," she accused.

  "Sorry. You know I wouldn't call this early unless it was important." It was gone eleven, but Kate doesn't keep regular hours.

  She's a night person. She's a vampire. A new one. Three years old, and I like her. A lot. Too much. So much it hurts. She is also smart as hell and has a way with technology, and that was why I needed her. One of the reasons, anyway.

  Me and Kate go back, since very early on after her new life began, and we are good friends. As good as you can get when one of you fancies the other and the other has to resist tearing out your throat and gorging on your blood as you lie on the floor dying, terrified, wondering what the hell went wrong. Hey, what friendship is perfect, right?

  You may think it strange that a vampire is making coffee and acting like a normal person, if rather late to rise, but what did you expect? Kate is a modern girl and lives in the world rather easily. She just has to suck the blood of humans now and then.

  She eats, drinks, can use mirrors, doesn't disappear if you take her photo, and is fresh enough to the vampire scene to still be mostly untainted and even have nearly all her humanity intact. Most, not all. Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. She is, to put it bluntly, no longer quite human.

  But neither am I. I haven't been for so long I don't even know what that means now. I think I even miss it, being normal, but I'm not sure, and thinking about it makes me sad anyway.

  There have been changes. Even in the few years I've known her she is different. A little colder, slightly detached and distant sometimes, but it will be a long time before she becomes truly unknowable and a different species entirely. She still has her humanity, and is doing her best to keep it.

  Sometimes I wonder if this is why she insists on her apartment being so clean and tidy—her way of holding on to what she knows is a past life—or maybe her new state has made her slightly more obsessive. I've seen it happen before. New vampires get some strange quirks, and interests or tendencies become all-consuming. Better to take it out on the furniture and the kitchen counters than the world at large—that only leads to trouble.

  We met because I dealt with her maker, something I don't normally ever get involved in, but it was a nasty business for all concerned. The guy was a loose cannon, not respecting the rules of our world or the vampires', and in a rare moment of mutual co-operation both the Dark Council and the Vampire Council agreed that the man had to go.

  Yours truly was sent to deal with him, accompanied by several vampire enforcers, and let's just say that the guy is no longer with us and leave it at that, okay?

  It was just a shame we arrived when we did. Kate was already bitten, almost gone, and even now I wonder if saving her was the right thing or not. I'm not sure she knows, either.

  Kate had been totally freaked about her new life, went through all the pains and terrors that all have to come to terms with when turned. Some can't, and end it all, while others accept it, and quite a number embrace or even revel in it. Kate acknowledged it as an inconvenience and got on with her life.

  She is part of our world now, and after I'd helped deal with her maker, we hit it off.

  "Here. I like the hair. Bit drastic though, isn't it?" Kate put a mug in front of me as I took a seat at the kitchen bar, then put hers down.

  "Thanks. And sorry for waking you. As for the hair, well, I, um, I messed up."

  Kate lifted a perfect eyebrow. "So what's new?"

  "No, I mean I really messed up." I put a hand up before she could talk. "But it's not my fault, honest. Apparently I was sent to deal with the Armenian and—"

  "Ankine Luisi? Seriously?" Kate stopped with mug mid-air, then gulped steaming coffee fast, trying to kickstart the day.

  "Yeah," I said glumly. "But it didn't go acco
rding to plan. I don't even remember yet, as the effects haven't worn off, but she did me over good and I am in deep trouble. I've already seen Taavi, and Rikka, not to mention a few other people I could have done without the pleasure of. I need you to help me out."

  "With dealing with her?" Kate looked freaked.

  "No. No, of course not. I'll deal with her later, maybe. But I need you to... It's best if I show you. Have you got your laptop?"

  "Hang on." Kate jumped down and I tried, and failed, to ignore the jiggle under her vest, so turned back to my coffee as she wandered into the bedroom. I looked up and stared out of the floor to ceiling window that overlooked the bay—the view little more than gray cloud and gray water as usual—and watched the seagulls battle with the rain and wind.

  Thankfully, Kate soon emerged, wearing jeans and a smartly tailored green blouse. She had her laptop tucked under her arm, so I could at least try to focus on saving my own skin for a while, rather than focus on hers.

  Hot women suck, in some cases literally.

  "May I?" I nodded at the laptop.

  "Sure." Kate slid it across the counter and I flipped it open. I went to YouTube, got up the morning news clips—man, the view counts were nuts—and pressed play.

  *

  "Faz,"—she's the only one that calls me Faz, apart from Grandma, and I don't even mind—"what the hell? They'll kill you for this. It could start a war, or worse. It could mean the end of everything."

  "Tell me about it. Look, things like this have happened before, more often than you would think, especially with every bloody move you make being recorded or photographed by some dude with a smart phone, but yeah, this is a bad one. That's why I need your help. Everyone's overreacting, but I guess this is the best footage ever of someone using magic. I was lost to myself. My usual defenses weren't up, so it was actually seen. You still, you know, working?"

  "Of course I'm still working. What do you think I'd be doing?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Hunting and killing human beings maybe. Hanging with vampires and bathing in blood. Nice orgies, that kind of thing." Yes, I'm an idiot, and yes, I knew as soon as I'd said it that it wasn't the best way to get a friend to help me out of a very bad situation. What can I tell you? I'm dumb now and then.

  "If you're going be like that then—"

  "I'm sorry, okay? Please, my mouth isn't connected to my brain at times. I'm an idiot."

  "We both know that."

  "Sorry. So, you are still working?" Kate just stared at me. "Okay, then how about you..."

  Conspiracies

  "Can you do that?" I asked, after I'd explained what I was after.

  "Um, sure, piece of cake. Just for this guy though? That's rather limited if you ask me. Why not go all out? That way it's got a much better chance of being convincing. It's a backup, makes the whole thing seem genuine. I can go international if you'd like?"

  "I love you. Not just a pretty face." Before I knew what I was doing I leaned over the counter and planted a wet one right on her cheek.

  Eek.

  There was silence, and it was a little awkward. Look, I didn't mean it like that. You know, that I love her, although I probably do. I meant, wow, thanks, that's great, you're a true friend and I owe you, that sort of thing. So, me being me, I thought I'd better explain that.

  "Um, you know, as a friend and all. I love you like a friend and that is a great idea and, er, thanks."

  Kate stared at me funny. If I wasn't so insecure deep down under the bravado then I could have almost hoped she liked the kiss and what I said. But I am, and I did hope. But I didn't dare ask, or try anything, as I valued our friendship. I knew from way too much past experience that me getting the wrong impression is more often than not what I mistake for come-to-bed eyes when really it's don't-you-dare-touch-me eyes, or I-love-you-like-a-brother eyes. Then I'm screwed, and alone. Again.

  "Why do you do that?" Kate asked, shaking her straight, perpetual summer-blond hair away from her face.

  "Do what?"

  "Always have to crack a joke and never talk about things properly?" This was serious. She rested her lovely chin in her hands and stared at me with big blue eyes that saw every sad thing that welled up inside of me and screamed for release.

  "Because I'm a fool and don't understand women. Because I'm scared of commitment, loss, love, and loneliness, and the only thing worse than not trying to find love is being rejected when you think you've found it."

  Kate was taken aback. Told you I had a sensitive side. "Oh."

  "So, are we good? Can you get onto this, like now? How long will it take?" For the first time since I came to my senses I had a glimmer of hope. I might pull this off and come out of it with my head still attached to my shoulders. Maybe.

  "Give me two hours and I'll be done."

  "What! Seriously?"

  "I can do it in an hour if you really want it rushed."

  "No, two is fine. I meant I'm amazed you can do it that quick. Genius."

  "Not just a pretty face, right?"

  "Absolutely."

  Kate got up and walked around the counter, just stood there, looking all amazing and scary as hell too. Yes, scary. It's an issue, the whole vampire thing. Not enough to stop me hoping, but there's no getting away from it. Vampires are intense.

  It's the hint of the ageless, this thing inside of them you know is there. It will creep up on them over the years, strip them of their humanity and there is no way to stop it. I've never met a truly old vampire, I mean truly old, that isn't cold and heartless.

  Still, she is hot. And nice. Perfect, really. Okay, almost.

  I got uncomfortable with her standing next to me while I was on the stool trying to finish my coffee so I jumped down. She stood on tiptoe and kissed me, right on the lips. It felt like magic. A kind I'd never experienced before. The familiar tingle but with no sickness—the opposite. All warm and wet, like love had been poured into my mind and I would do anything for this woman. Anything.

  She stepped back and said, "See ya, then. I'll get right on it. I'll give you a call when it's done, okay?" Kate looked at me quizzically, head cocked to one side. Her lips glistened and I couldn't focus on anything else.

  "Um, okay. Bye." I walked out in a daze, not knowing if the kiss was, you know, a kiss, or just Kate being Kate. Maybe one day I'll ask. Maybe not.

  I stood the other side of the door and heard the chain go on. I almost felt like doing one of those soppy things where you put your hand onto the door and hope the other person is doing the same thing the other side. But I'm a dark magic enforcer. I rip the magic out of dangerous miscreants and leave them to cope alone. I know the true horror of humanity and it's worse than any devil I've ever encountered. I've battled vampires and I've blasted witches' eyeballs until they fizzed and popped, but I still almost did it.

  I licked my lips; they tasted of her. They tasted of hope.

  I walked away, wondering if Kate had a hand on her door. I'll never know.

  Time to go to the morgue.

  The Perfect Job

  "I knew you'd call," said a smug Dancer as he met me on the steps outside the hospital—as with all good morgues, it was in the basement. I hate it when people are smug, unless it's me doing the smugging—that's a word, right? It is now.

  "How?" I asked suspiciously.

  "Stands to reason," he said with a smile that was making me have serious second thoughts about anything but slapping him, hard.

  But I was limited as to options, and I wasn't exactly on talking terms with most necromancers. I didn't want to be with this one either, as they freak me out. "Is that right?"

  "Yes. There's only one way out of this mess, and part of that is you needing my specialty."

  Maybe he wasn't as stupid as he seemed. Maybe. "Okay, fine. Are you in then?"

  Dancer wiggled his stub of a pinkie. It looked sore as hell. The little sprouting nub of a finger was red raw but already longer than earlier. He would pay for forcing things so soon, but that's necro
mancers for you—always messing with things they shouldn't be.

  I tried to hide a shudder and steeled myself. "I'm sorry. Apologies for your finger. It won't happen again. And I would truly appreciate your help." I felt degraded saying it, but I needed him.

  "Okay, I accept. Don't forget, you owe me twice for this. And I will collect."

  "I know you will. Come on, let's get this over with."

  Dancer smiled; I followed him inside.

  *

  One bonus of being in contact with the Empty is that you don't have to worry about signing in, paying for things, or freaking out about CCTV. Once you've done your apprenticeship—although it isn't made up of studying books and practicing on frogs, I can tell you that much—then you always have that little bit of magic bubbling away just below the surface.

  It's part of you, a disguise like for the true Hidden, and normally it masks any magic use from Regular eyes. You know, apart from when you've had a run-in with a succubus. She must have worked me over good to have made my actions visible to all.

  The magic that is always with you isn't enough to make you sick, or put a downer on your day-to-day life, just sufficient to allow you to blend into the background so people don't notice you unless you act like an idiot—like I did earlier on and then freaked and dyed my hair.

  It's why so many involved in magic are what you would call unsavory elements. Or, to put it bluntly, criminals.

  Imagine if you could walk into a bank, a nice jewelers, or a technology store and pick up what you wanted and walk out. Tempting, right? It's not just about magic either, it's the knowledge that it's there if you need it.

  All the best thieves are the ones that hide in plain sight. The everyman. The person with enough confidence to walk into a place, pick up a 50" TV and just wander right on out like they have every right to.

  Or the person who puts on a suit and a name tag, walks into a jewelers and starts writing on a clipboard and asking questions, and in minutes has the staff running into the back to get the books and call their boss while he walks out with a million in watches.