Black Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 1)

by Al K. Line

  Here went nothing.

  Seriously?

  "What do you mean you'd love to go out with Stanley?" Kate nudged me in the ribs. "Ow! What?"

  "Grandma said yes. I think it's sweet," Kate said, smiling.

  "Sweet! He's a seer and he's seen the future. His whole life! Which means he knows what happens to all of us if we are a part of it."

  "Well, I think he's a real gentleman," said Grandma, poking at her hair like she was going on the date in a few minutes.

  "He works in the morgue," I protested. "He knows his future and he drops brains into trays for a living. Not even for a living. He does it because he enjoys it! Did I mention he knows his entire life already?"

  "And he is always very polite and smiles a lot. Plus, I haven't been out with a man for..." Grandma counted on her fingers. "Gosh, a very long time. Probably almost a century. Whoo, time flies when you're busy, busy, busy."

  I can't actually remember Grandma ever going on a date, or anything like that. To be honest, until then I never saw her as a sexual person—she's Grandma! Was I being overly protective? Maybe. But it was Stanley. Stanley! He would know exactly how the date would go, would know what happened in the future, and he may even know my future. It gives me the creeps, okay?

  "He's always made me feel safe when our paths have crossed. Like he's looking out for you and knows what's best. He has such a nice manner about him." Grandma looked like she was reminiscing about past men she'd known.

  Had she known any? I guess she must have. After all, I was here, wasn't I? She is my mother's mother, so I know she must have had a relationship. Heck, she was married to my grandfather, a Regular, but that was long before I was ever around.

  To me, she is this lovely old lady that makes tea and helps solve other people's problems, so it felt odd to be having the conversation, and Kate wasn't helping.

  "I can do your hair and makeup if you like," offered Kate.

  "Ooh, that would be lovely. When does he want to take me? Did he say?"

  "Um, no, he just wanted me to ask if you would like to go out with him. You're serious, right? You want to?"

  "Of course. I am a woman, you know, not just your grandmother."

  I said nothing as she was right, but I never thought of her like that. She's more like a natural element than someone who likes to go out on dates with friendly mortuary technicians that can see the future.

  The uncomfortable silence grew, the only sounds the bubbling of the pots and the birds singing happily in the garden. They looked after Grandma's plants, clearing away the bugs, just the bad bugs mind you—apparently she has an agreement with the sparrows. No, I have never asked what it is. Some things are witch concerns only.

  I sipped my tea, wondering how things were going with the chess player, and the media misdirection Kate had instigated, then thought maybe I should have a shower.

  "You should have a shower," said Grandma. "You stink worse than a dung sprite. Did you know that I once met one when I was on holiday in Scotland and it..."

  Kate and Grandma got into a long conversation about the merits of dung sprites, and I sniffed my armpits, recoiled in horror, then tried to plan out the rest of my day. Kinda pointless—being an enforcer means that life is always full of surprises along with periods of utter boredom—but I really did need a shower.

  Exhaustion took over and I sank low in my chair while I let the voices lull me into a state that has saved my life and my sanity on numerous occasions.

  I let my tattoos pulse gently, like a physical, warm caress I hadn't had for so long, and felt the connection between myself and the Empty. The sickness threatened me, like I would roll over into fetid water and be sucked down into mud that would keep me there for lifetimes, but it passed as I surrendered. Almost without thought, I tweaked the energy and let its power invade me, give me what I needed.

  This is a gift for wizards. It's why we can keep going so long, why we often stink a little, and why we often have terrible dark bags under our eyes. You can beat nature for a while, but as with all things, there are consequences.

  A few minutes later I snapped out of it, feeling like I'd slept all night. There was this familiar buzz going that I let slide back down the fuzzy pathways of my mind, or I'd be manic and Grandma would accuse me of doing drugs again.

  What remained was a clarity, an alertness, and a sense of needing to get things done. Plus the stink, that was still there. Magic can do many things, but act as soap, deodorant, and aftershave it cannot.

  "...gave me a mushroom in the shape of a willy and I stuck it..." I zoned back out quickly. I really didn't want to hear the end of that particular story of Grandma's.

  Lalalalala occupied my mind while I fought with the words trying to stake into my ears like pencils fresh from the sharpener, tipped with sexual innuendo from a two thousand year old family member. I jumped like a frog carried into the kitchen by Grandma as I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  "There's someone here to see you." Grandma looked less than pleased.

  "Here?" I looked around the room but it was just me, Grandma, and Kate.

  "Down here."

  I looked down at the deep baritone of a familiar voice. "Oh, hi, Intus. What's up?"

  Intus scowled and bunched tiny fists. Word of caution. Think before you talk to imps. They get touchy if they think you're trying to make fun of their size. Intus seemed to mull over my words, decided I could live a few more minutes, and relaxed.

  "Sorry for the intrusion, Mrs. Grandma,"—imps are very formal—"but this couldn't wait."

  "That's all right, Intus. Would you like a cup of tea?"

  "Oh, no, thank you. I drank not long ago, must have only been a few years. I don't want to get bloated. Got to look after the body and all that, especially now. But thank you for your kind offer."

  "No problem. Well, I'll leave you and Kate to it then. I have things to do. Faz, you be out of here soon. I have a client. You be careful." Grandma scowled at my hair then continued lecturing. "All this dashing about, playing with Inter Webs and dragging poor Kate into this. Tut-tut. And do something about that hair!"

  "Yes, Grandma. Sorry, Grandma. Thanks for the tea. We'll be off now." I gave her a kiss and Kate did likewise. Intus bellowed farewell and we headed out into the front garden.

  You know what? The one thing I will forever love my Grandma for, and I know it's why Kate loves her like her own flesh and blood, is that she never once gave even the slightest hint of disapproval as to Kate's "condition." There has never been any judging, no slurs on the type of creature she now is, or what she will most likely become over the decades if she survives.

  Grandma has always treated Kate as an equal, and Grandma hates vampires with a vengeance that knows no bounds.

  After all, they killed her husband, killed my mother and father. She may be a loving, caring woman, but one thing she never does is forgive.

  Out in the garden, as we walked down the drive, Intus morphed from a five centimeter imp into a rather odd looking cat. Imps aren't the best at shifting, it's not a part of who they are, but it beats talking to a bright red mini person at any rate.

  Intus is an imp enforcer, dealing strictly with the imp side of things, and trust me, it keeps my friend very busy. Imps are, and I'm trying to be diplomatic, rather excitable at times, and like nothing better than when things get chaotic.

  They also like to amuse themselves by going into people's houses and moving stuff about, knocking things over, getting together and hiding under sheets or biting your ear and making you scream and generally freak out—in other words, enforcing punishment and dealing with the spillover of magic into normal life is a full-time job for Intus, and then some.

  Poor thing is always run ragged, but Intus is a happy imp. It's not their nature to be morose.

  Which is why I knew this was serious. Intus hadn't even cracked a joke yet.

  An Imp Interlude

  Imps are nice. I like them. They are often funny, sometimes annoying—as th
ey don't know when enough is enough—and have this rather crazed need to play jokes and generally get into mischief. But they don't mean anything by it, they are just expressing their nature.

  They're a kind of devil, or a demon, I guess, but a special kind. Nice.

  They are immortal—you just try to kill one, it's impossible—and I've always wondered how old that makes them as they still have to be born, right? Plus, there are baby imps, although I've only ever seen one, and they are more prevalent than you would think.

  They are usually bright red, sometimes mottled with brown, have big ears (for their size), long forked tails, and clawed hands that can do serious damage even to humans, or any other species for that matter. They are also incredibly strong. And I have absolutely no idea how you tell if they are female or male, much like dwarves in that regard.

  I once asked Intus if it were a male or female and it went off on this mad tirade about not being put in a gender-confined box, and wasn't this the modern age where everyone was judged not on their sexuality but the kind of person they were? And how would I feel if it went around asking me if I was a man or a woman? To which I replied, I didn't mind, and I was a man. Which confused the hell out of my friend, and it asked me how did you tell? I tried to explain, but it didn't compute, so there are always two sides to every story you see.

  All I know is that imps are like crazed children after being let loose in a sweet shop for an hour and then force-fed high sugar content drinks and then told to go have fun and see how much trouble they can cause—meaning enforcers are kept on their claws.

  From what I can gather, there is an enforcer imp for every ten or so of their kind, and even that is hardly enough. They don't seem to sleep often, and when they do it's for weeks, months, sometimes years at a time. They consume pure magic for sustenance, although will eat or drink now and then just for the novelty factor. And they deal with their own business.

  For Intus—all imp names begin with I—to come and ask for help concerning imp related matters meant things were not good, and it wasn't like I had a free afternoon to just help out. But this particular imp is a friend, so I couldn't say no.

  One thing I knew above all else was that I was starving hungry. I should have asked Grandma for something, but let's just say she has a habit of slipping a few herbs in with your sandwich, and I really couldn't face any alterations to my already unstable mind and body.

  What a morning! It's not always like this. Usually I laze about and drink coffee, but such is the life of a wizard enforcer—always something to surprise you.

  "Let's get into the car. You can turn back from that... It is a cat, right?" I asked Intus.

  "Of course I'm a cat. What else would I be?"

  "Maybe a crushed miniature tiger," offered Kate.

  Intus scowled at us both, then laughed that deep laugh of its. There's no keeping it down. Oops, I mean depressed.

  I opened up the car and they both jumped in. Intus stood on the dashboard and scowled at the hanging pine-tree-shaped air freshener—they have sensitive noses. Long too.

  "Okay, what's up, Intus? But I have a busy day so please make it quick."

  "I heard. Sounds like you are dealing with it though." Imps know pretty much everything that goes on. It's what makes them so useful, so dangerous too. "I don't know why you don't just, you know, come out. It would make it easier."

  "What, like your kind have?"

  "Hey, it's not in our nature to tell the world about us. Where's the fun in that? We wouldn't be able to move things around in human's fridges if they knew it was us. And who's going to steal all the single socks and put keys in different pockets and put cash back in your trousers even though you were sure you took it out before you put them in the washing machine? These things don't get done by themselves, you know. And what about making holes in the bottom of bags so the rice falls all over the floor and—"

  "Okay, okay, I get it. You couldn't possibly show yourself. You have work that's too important."

  "Exactly," said Intus, satisfied. They aren't big on irony or sarcasm, in case you haven't noticed.

  "Kate, you are looking exceptionally radiant today. Have you just eaten a human?" Imps aren't big on tact either. They don't see the world in quite the same way we do.

  "Um, yes, and thank you. He deserved it though," Kate added hurriedly, less than comfortable with Intus' no-nonsense approach. She'll get used to it.

  "Well, keep it up. It seems to be agreeing with you."

  Kate looked to me for help but she was on her own. There was nothing I could do to make it better. Then something struck me. "Fancy a sandwich?"

  "Love one. I thought you'd never ask," said Kate with relief.

  "Have you got Marmite?" asked Intus, ears pointing forward in anticipation.

  "I do. It's still in the back of the cupboard from the last time you came over."

  Intus' ears pricked up and the wild tail scratched against the dashboard. Then it clapped little hands together in glee. "Then, yes, I would love a sandwich. But no bread, it bloats me, and no butter. That stuff comes from inside cows! You do know milk is a bovine excretion, don't you?" Intus asked suspiciously.

  "Um, yeah. Why?"

  "Why!? Because it's gross, that's why." Intus shook its pointy head in disgust at the things humans do.

  "Hey! You eat Marmite. I don't think you're the one to judge me. You do know it's just yeast extract, right?"

  "Hmm, yum." Intus was lost in memories of consuming yeast extract, a faraway look in the slitted eyes as it remembered the good times had with a jar of black poison masquerading as a spreadable treat for the ill-informed, or for people who couldn't afford cheese or ham.

  "Okay, let's go." I started the car.

  Intus jumped onto Kate, accidentally landed in her cleavage, then popped a smug head out of her blouse and said, "For safety, that's all. Spark is a reckless driver."

  Kate smiled down and patted the top of the jagged head carefully. Lucky bugger.

  The sneaky imp winked at me and didn't even try to bite Kate's finger for being so patronizing. If it had been me, it would have taken the top off and swallowed it.

  This is a creature that gets grossed out by milk but will happily eat unwanted human flesh if it gets the point across.

  Imps!

  Death by Marmite

  Unlocking the freshly glossed front door to my nice semi on the outskirts of the city felt odd because it felt so familiar and normal. I live in a nice, spacious house with friendly neighbors. It's quiet here. Just how I like it.

  I don't have skulls hanging from beads. I don't have a collection of arcane stuff on shelves, weird creatures in jars, or a library full of magic books. There are no collections of wizard paraphernalia, or any of that stuff, and you'd be hard pressed to find a proper Hidden that does—vampires go in for the dramatic, and amass a lot of tat over the centuries and so do some wizards, but mostly it's interesting items they've picked up on their travels: a nice rug, a cushion, or a piece of furniture, not actual magical items.

  In fact, there aren't usually books on magic at all. This business is strictly hands on. There is little to actually say to conjure up demons, or rituals that will guarantee results. Yes, you may get the occasional book on herb lore or low level spells, or even books on tattoos to maximize control of the Empty, but most of this world is a mind game or one where you are simply magical. The learning comes from experience, from immersion in the Empty and the feelings that grow within you, not from reading books.

  And anyway, I like to keep my home simple. Clean, light and airy, and smelling nice—so sue me, I'm not a slob and I don't dress in a cape and a pointy hat.

  This is the modern age. That stuff went out centuries ago, not that it was ever in with anyone that genuinely could call themselves a wizard, witch, or any other name you care to call them, or they care to call themselves.

  As I opened the door, and the large open space greeted us, I breathed in deeply of the delicately scented air, the
hint of rose and citrus relaxing me, welcoming me back to my own personal slice of normality.

  There's nothing like coming home, especially after the kind of morning I'd had.

  "Aah, home sweet home." I pushed the door to behind me.

  "Looks nice," said Oliver, peering past me, eyes lingering on Kate.

  "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "Why, keeping an eye on you. Kate looks well. Had a nice feed did you, Kate?" he called passed me, smiling, exposing his canines.

  "I thought you said he'd gone," said Kate to me, ignoring Oliver. She turned to him, but remained where she was. Intus had already gone ahead; it was probably looking for my socks. "Have you been following us?"

  "Of course. I have to ensure that the mess Spark here made is cleaned up properly."

  "Well it is," I said. "Now, if you don't mind?" I pushed the door but he stopped it with his foot.

  "Not going to invite me in?"

  "No."

  "I can just come in anyway, you know?"

  "And I can tell Taavi that you intruded without an invitation." It gave him pause for thought. It's where the myth of vampires not being able to enter your home unless invited comes from. All Hidden have to respect each other's homes. It's kind of off-limits unless the circumstances are very extenuating, like if you are trying to kill each other or something. To enter uninvited is like declaring war, and Oliver knew the consequences for such an act.

  Taavi would be less than amused, and Oliver risked both his position and his life.

  He scowled and said, "Fine, but I'm fed up chasing you around and watching you and your boring life. Give me the keys, I'll wait in the car."

  "No chance." I thought for a moment. "Fine, but don't stink it up." He took the keys and left. Rikka would go mad if he knew, but it was better than wondering where Oliver was, or what he was doing.

  "I don't like him. He creeps me out. He's always so smug."

  "Tell me about it. He'll be gone soon, don't worry."

  "Good." Kate walked back to me, grabbed my hand and squeezed, then closed the door behind us. We moved away from the door as Intus appeared in front of us in the large open plan ground floor. It tried to hide a sock, realized it was futile, then held it out and grinned happily.