Black Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 1) (15 page)

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.

When I bought the place for cash many years ago, I was well ahead of the times. It was cramped and made up of a series of poky rooms. I got rid of the lot. I took down every wall apart from the ones that actually made it a house. Gone was the wall that separated the hallway from the living room. Then I knocked through into the dining room and then the kitchen, and as the years have gone by I've modernized as new technology arrives and I'm happier with it now than I've ever been.

Stripped, polished and stained oak floorboards, the originals. A large galley kitchen at the far end overlooking the garden Grandma helped me plant and advised me on. Two large, comfortable-but-modern leather sofas either end of a rug probably worth more than the house. A huge TV on the wall, gray blinds at the bay window to the front, and a matching roller blind at the rear. Various cupboards and chairs from the forties, fifties, and sixties. It's paradise. It's mine. It's quiet. It's home.

Airy, light, roomy, and relaxing. Perfect.

"Sweet pad, Spark. Need a roomie?" asked Intus.

"Absolutely not. I like my privacy and my alone time. You ask that every time, anyway. Don't pretend like I don't remember." I tried not to shudder as Intus might take it personally. But could you imagine?

"Did I? Have I?" Long-lived creatures like Intus forget more than you would think. Or, sometimes, choose to forget on purpose. "Hey, what's this?" Intus jumped up onto a long, and very expensive forties Danish sideboard and lifted a plastic lid.

"Whoa! Don't touch it, it's set up just right. It's delicate." Intus paused with one tiny hand just about to touch the weight on the end of the needle arm of my turntable.

"You sure you don't want me to touch it. Just to be sure?"

"Sure of what?" I asked suspiciously.

"Um, to be sure it works. How does it work?"

"Never you mind. If you want that sandwich minus the bread then please don't touch my stuff."

"Fine." Intus acted seriously offended, but disappeared in a puff of smoke and reappeared on the kitchen counter, then vanished again. We heard it clattering about in the wall cupboard that held the Marmite, lost at the back where the nasty stuff remained until it began to gain sentience.

Kate shrugged and wandered down to the kitchen area. She opened the door to find Intus heaving against the jar larger than itself. Why it was in my house I had no idea. I'd certainly never bought it. One mystery that will never be solved, I guess.

She picked it up with the imp sat on the top, and I got bread out of the drawer. It was from the day before so still pretty fresh, and while I sliced, Kate got the goodies from the fridge.

"Hey, a little help here?" asked Intus, spinning the lid but not getting it off.

"I thought you were like a million times stronger than your size dictates?" I asked.

"Hey, that's sizeist. Don't be insulting me, Spark."

"What! I wasn't. Here, let me." Intus jumped down and I took off the lid and tried not to retch at the foul smell. I got a knife, loaded it up, then placed it on a plate.

Intus tucked in happily, sighing with satisfaction.

Kate and I prepared a more sensible lunch of cheese, ham, mayo and mustard sandwiches. I was starving.

Bang, bang, bang.

"What the hell is that?" I gathered the Empty, half a sandwich in my mouth, and Kate became a blur.

She was across the room quicker than you could say, "Run, vampire, run," and peeking through the blinds as the hammering at the door got louder and louder. It sounded like a troll collective had come for lunch, and I didn't expect the door to hold out much longer.

"I'm found," moaned Intus from the counter, before ducking down behind the Marmite.

"Who's found you?" Like this was what I needed now.

"Illus. You have to hide me. I've got things to do. I need a break. I need my Marmite."

"So this is why you came to see me? To hide? What's going on, Intus? I'm not in the mood for trouble today. I've got enough problems as it is."

"I thought I'd be safe with you," the cowering imp moaned, trying to whisper but its crazy imp baritone would easily be heard the other side of the door. I expected it to smash down any second. I'd just painted it, too.

"I can hear you in there, Intus. You better open up or I'll smash it down and drag you out. We have babies to make."

Kate dashed back to the kitchen and we turned to Intus. "Babies?" she said.

"Babies?" I said.

"Babies," Intus said, nodding a pale red head as it peeked around the jar.

"Who's at the door? Who's Illus?"

"My betrothed. Um, we got married."

"What!? What the hell is happening? Imps don't get married, do they?"

"Of course they do. How else would we make babies?"

"Well, you know, the same way humans and all other animals do."

"I know how to do it, thank you very much. I am immortal. I've had loads of practice, but I haven't made any yet. We can't, not until we get married. But I changed my mind, it's too... It's too—"

"Too what?" said the imp I assumed was Illus, as the angry creature squeezed through the letterbox. Seemingly, it finally remembered it was an imp, and disappeared then reappeared beside Intus, hands on hips, scowling at my terrified friend.

"Come in, why don't you?"

"Sorry about that, um, human? But we have babies to make. We're married."

"Oh, right. Er, Spark, you can call me Spark."

"Hi, Spark," said Illus. "So, this is who you've run off with, is it? Some kind of 'person.' Not good enough for you, am I?"

Intus practically shriveled before our eyes. Kate nudged me like I should do something, but I was at a loss.

"Um, who's the husband and who's the wife?" They both scowled at me like I'd asked the dumbest question ever.

"Don't be stupid," said Illus.

"Right, sorry. Daft of me to ask." They nodded in agreement. "Now, look, you, er, can't just come in here and..." Illus was seriously putting me off. The feisty imp was way too intense. I could see why Intus had done a runner.

"Yes? You got something to say?" said Illus.

"Um, no. As you were."

Intus looked at me with pleading eyes. The tail was down, ears flat to the head, and it hadn't even finished the Marmite.

"I need a break," said Intus. "It was a mistake and I'm sorry, but I'm not ready for this. It's too sudden."

"We've been engaged for seventeen centuries," said Illus.

"Like I said, too sudden. I haven't had time to prepare."

"Prepare what?"

"Um, you know, things. Married type things." Intus waved the notion away as if it were obvious such a short engagement would never result in a happy marriage.

"I think we better leave them to it," said Kate, nodding to the garden.

"Good idea."

We strolled out into the sweet smelling garden and shut the door behind us. Man, imps are loud.

After a tour of the plants, and the call of our sandwiches too much to stand, we headed back inside.

"Oh my god, oh my god," screamed Kate.

"Ugh, gross. Stop it, stop it."

It was the stuff of nightmares. All I could see was a red bottom pumping up and down at incredible speed. All blurry and red, and impish. And nasty.

Tails flew about wildly. Arms thrashed and clawed at backs and bosoms—I think they were bosoms—and moans loud enough to cause avalanches rattled the windows, and would no doubt disturb the neighbors, as the pumping got faster and the moans grew ever louder and higher in pitch.

Then it was over, and after some considerable fumbling with their brown leather dungarees and assorted buckles and bits and pieces, two imps stood and stared at us. Intus said, "What?"

"You were doing the dirty next to the Marmite. On my kitchen counter. I'll have to buy bleach!" I moaned.

"You humans are so weird," said Intus. "Can I take the jar?"

"Eh? What?"

"The Marmite?" Intus tapped the jar.

"Um, yeah, sure. Call it a wedding gift."

"Result!" said Intus, punching the air.

"Yes!" said Illus, screwing on the lid and balancing it on its head.

"Be seeing you," said Intus, waving and beaming like an imp that had just... Well, you know.

"Um, bye, then."

"Bye, humans," said Illus.

With a little puff of smoke they were gone.

"Which one was doing what?" asked Kate.

"I don't know, and I don't want to know." I stared at the forever-tainted counter and moved over to my sandwich. It had a tiny imp bumprint in the bread. "I'm not hungry."

"Me either."

Some things are scary, some things are terrifying, but there is nothing that will haunt me more than the sight of a tiny red bum going at it on my counter and ruining my lunch.

"At least they took the Marmite away," said Kate.

"Yeah. I'm gonna take a shower."

Tattoo Reveal

A foul stench launched itself at my unprepared nasal cavities as I closed the bathroom door, took off my jacket and unbuttoned my shirt. It permeated the room and overpowered the air freshener. It was me. I stank. I had the same clothes on as the day before, and assumed I hadn't washed since then either. My clothes were more wrinkled than a mummy's bandages.

Nasty.

Putting, or trying to put, images of tiny imp bums out of my mind and just have peace for a while—some me time—I stripped off the rest of my abused suit and kicked it all into a corner of my large bathroom.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I traced the lines of ink that covered my body, tattoos given long ago when I was little more than a kid. I couldn't help wonder what he would make of me now, that child. Would he be pleased? Disappointed? Awed? Probably just laugh about the imp thing, knowing me.