Black Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 1)
Page 20
The troll puts the lump on top of its own head and it is complete. We both stand there, immobile, as Ankine Luisi claws desperately at her tattered neck.
She shimmers and leaks Hidden magic as the world vanishes, becomes original pain and blinding darkness, strobing silver and terrible light like the corrupted nightclub. We watch, the troll impassive, me little more than sickness, as her body morphs.
She is the woman I see before me, then she is blond and curvaceous, then she is dark-skinned and slender, then she is short and then tall, now brunette and wearing a costume from ancient history, and she is every woman from every continent, and she is every woman from every time, her shape and clothes shifting one to the other over and over.
The world empties, sucked down a drain like fetid, lumpy magic, and then she is who she really is. A demon. Her face pure hatred for humanity and for men. She snaps. Her body is a ghost, darkness and light, beautiful and terrifying. Her tail whips at the door, and her clawed hands reach for me while leathery wings beat against the wall and the high ceiling. Her body is perverse.
The air in-between us is scattered with sparkling dust and the faery appears once more. I catch a hint of earlobe and the sickness displaces. "You broke the—" she begins to say, then realizes she is where she was moments ago.
"I knew I recognized you from somewhere," the faery says. "You're Spark. Black Spark."
I don't know how she knows me, and I look at her ear one last time as the succubus reaches for me and I know the faery is too late and I have failed. "Huh," is all I manage. My last words and all I say is, "Huh." What a way to go.
"Yes, you saved a friend from that stupid elf, must be a while ago now."
"I... what?"
She nods at me, and I remember long ago when I saved a faery, thinking that doing such a favor could never be a bad thing. She smiles at me and winks, and she hums and sings, twirls a finger and Ankine Luisi is gone.
"Put her back where she belongs. In men's dreams. For now."
The faery flutters in front of us, spreading magic dust everywhere, then looks around, presumably for food. I want to lick my finger and dip it in the beautiful faery sprinkles, but I know now is not the time. The troll is scratching its head. Teppo is still on the stairs, head in his bony hands.
He's crying. I am too.
I sink to the floor, just lie there as I feel sicker than I have ever felt in my life, and it has nothing to do with the Empty. Not caring about anything, I curl up into a ball and wish that Grandma was there to make me a cup of tea.
I think of Kate, then oblivion comes and I am free of this world.
Just for a while.
Time to Wake Up
Maybe I lay on the dust-scarred carpet for eternity, maybe seconds. Either way, I was defective, incurable. Ill like I have never felt in my life as unwelcome reality pushed back in. It infiltrated my black heart with an insistent buzzing—like a dragonfly's wings scratching at my dreams of emptiness.
This was no dragonfly though, this was a faery. I opened an eye reluctantly, worried about what I would see. The faery was sat on my nose, peering at me like I was some kind of specimen in a jar, which I guess is how they see us.
The other eye risked it and opened; the tiny creature came into focus.
She leaned forward, improving the view. "Where's the food?" she asked.
"Um, I don't know. I haven't been here long, I don't think." Somehow, I managed to sit up, while waves of magical energy made me urge even as I did my best to let it flow away as fast as possible, but the air was too full of it for me to control. Even the faery's presence was no longer enough to dispel the dreaded payback for use of dark magic.
There was too much in the room, and it was too concentrated—humans aren't designed to cope with such an onslaught of what isn't theirs by right of existence.
Merely being in the presence of a faery is enough to make you run screaming to an insane asylum unless you are powerful, and even then when they take you by surprise, and you haven't had time to prepare, it can be hit-or-miss if you can cope, let alone function.
But I'm Faz Pound, Dark Magic Enforcer, Peeker Down the Cleavage of Fae, Tickler of Tiny Ears, Licker of... you get the idea, and I've seen my share of fae. Just as well, because rescuing one a long time ago is what saved me from being forever enthralled by Ankine Luisi.
"I get food for faery," said the troll, seemingly having forgotten what happened.
"Ooh, goodie." The faery clapped her hands together in glee, sprinkling dust I stuck out my tongue to catch before she saw me and it blew away with a nod of her lovely head. Her wings beat faster, almost slicing my face to magic-encrusted ribbons.
"Hey, be careful." I retched one final time for luck, got to my feet awkwardly, and she took to the air. "You could have done that earlier," I moaned. My mouth felt drier than after sucking on an unripe apple then chasing it down with a generous helping of sand—that's what you get for eating troll.
"Done what?" She looked entirely relaxed, but was already losing interest in me.
I stared at her, trying to figure her out. With fae you can never tell if it's a trap or not. "You know, dealt with the succubus. I took a risk with the troll dust, wasn't sure if it would work, especially the second time."
She appeared confused for a moment, then shrugged—the usual fae attitude taking over. "Did something happen? Never mind, I smell food." She darted off, presumably to catch up with the troll.
"Stupid fae," I muttered, making sure she couldn't hear.
"I heard that," came her voice from somewhere at the back of the house, but also sounding like it was right in my ear. Magical after-effects made me too tired to care.
Fae are the worst for remembering things. No matter if you are human or entirely one of the true Hidden, you cannot expect to remember everything that happens if you lead a long, maybe infinite life. Fae, succubi, incubi, imps, goblins, trolls, and on the list goes, all are practically infinite beings, and it means they have to be selective.
Even long-living humans, or ex-humans, have to prioritize. I'm just over a hundred and have years, even a few decades, which are basically blank. For Mage Rikka, and ancient vampires like Taavi, they have the odd century that is gone forever. There is only so much you can keep, and the longer you live the more it gets sorted whether you like it or not. The important stuff remains, the day-to-day things, but events not deemed worthy get thrown on the scrapheap of memory.
I guessed what just happened was worth almost zero to the faery—I'd hate to see what was important.
A vision of Ankine Luisi remained in my mind. A scar on my memory that would never be wiped away. Her as her true self, with dark tattered wings, forked tail, the body all bone and stretched, mottled skin. No wonder she took on human form and reveled in the feel of female flesh of the soft and sensual kind.
Where exactly she was now I had no idea, but she wasn't next to me, and that was all I cared about right then.
The shamed Ambassador was still on the stairs. He was lost, unable to do much of anything now no longer enthralled. She had been all that had kept him going, now even that was gone. He was used up, a husk, no magic of his own left. It's impossible to know how he had allowed himself to get taken by her, but I guess she was just too powerful. She almost had me, so I can't exactly judge.
There was nothing I could do for him, so I sat down next to the empty man and gave my body permission to relax. Slowly, my mind unburdened itself as the dark magic slid back into the Empty. Little remained now, just me, a dark magic enforcer who was spent, a once powerful wizard with a bright future ahead of him who was lost, and dust on the carpet.
"You want eat?" The troll was in front of me, holding out a silver platter with an assortment of meats, bread, and fruit. The faery was stood on a slice of ham, tearing pieces off and ripping into it with teeth as sharp as needles, wings tucked away neatly.
"Why not?" I got up, and followed them into the dining room where I sank gratefully into a chai
r at an immaculately laid table, ready for guests that would never come.
I dragged out my phone and tapped a button. "You better come over to the Finnish Embassy," I said. "And bring some trolls. There are a lot of books that need moving."
"You okay?" asked Rikka.
"I've been better, but it's done."
"That's my boy. I never doubted you, Spark. Now, I just heard from the goblins, and they have a bit of a problem with—"
I hung up and ate an apple.
The End
Book 2 in the series is Evil Spark.
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Author's Note
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Stay jiggy,
Al