Black Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 1) (8 page)

"That's it, Boss, I didn't even know my name. I didn't know who I was or where I was or what I was doing. Somebody did this to me. Give me a break, please?" I was desperate. He could put me down and not even skip a beat of his fat-lined heart.

"Okay, Spark, one chance, and one chance only. You have until tomorrow morning. Seven AM, that's when you did it, right? Seven this morning?" I nodded. "You have until then as that's how long I've been given to wipe this from the collective memory of the planet. Do you know what you've started? People, and, er, non-people,"—told you we had an issue with what to call ourselves—"are already clamoring for this to be the beginning of the New Order. If we are to keep them in check you need to deal with this."

"Thanks, Mage Rikka. I won't let you down."

"You already have."

"Did you send me on a job yesterday? I had this slip in my pocket, a receipt, and I wondered if this is what it's all about. Did you send me to see someone? Maybe that's the answer?"

Rikka stared at me in that scary way of his, his fat face morphing and contorting as he bored into my soul and I felt the sickness rise as the Empty flowed into him. He is so powerful it hardly touched him, but rather contaminated those around him instead.

He mumbled, then waved a hand over the chess board, our game and connection to each other over all these years now forever tarnished.

A tiny person danced around on the squares. She was a brown-haired woman, rather nondescript, but even in miniature she had eyes that would devour your very soul and you'd ask for more. She was twirling and shouting, carefree and wild, spinning and totally in the zone.

"You were supposed to deal with her. Ring any bells?"

It didn't. I shook my head.

The image vanished and I felt a little emptier inside. "You don't remember?" Rikka leaned forward. It was then I knew things were really serious. "You were supposed to deal with her. Don't tell me you haven't?" He actually looked panicked.

"Who is she?"

Rikka beckoned me closer with a sausage finger. I got right up to his bloated, sugar-coated lips and he whispered, "Ankine Luisi."

Oh no, I hadn't realized it was this awful. "The Armenian!?"

"Of course, the Armenian!" Rikka put a hand to his mouth after he realized he'd almost shouted.

This was bad. Real, real bad. The Armenian? Ankine Luisi? Damn! "What did she do? Why was I sent after her?" My stomach knotted like I'd licked a goblin's toes.

"Why do you think?"

I watched, transfixed, as sugar dropped from Rikka's lips onto his chin.

"She didn't, did she?"

"She did." Rikka nodded.

"What? The 'thing?' Really?"

"Yup. And you were meant to deal with it. Guess she wasn't too happy about that."

"That's out of our remit though, isn't it? She's, you know, the Armenian. It's their business to reign her in."

"She's here, so we deal with her if she breaks the rules. And anyway, I got the go-ahead from the Armenian Dark Council, who were ordered by the Worldwide Council."

"I bet they'll all be glad to see the back of her."

"So would I. You blew it, Spark. Now you need to put this right."

I sighed, tried not to show how little I was looking forward to this. "I will, you can count on me."

Rikka leaned back, seemingly satisfied. Voice back to normal he said, "Until seven tomorrow, Spark, not a moment later. Or else."

"No problem." It was the opposite. I was screwed.

I turned; the room was silent. All eyes were on me as I walked across the endless floor of the gym. I was so dazed I didn't even drool over Plum. That's how much the words "the Armenian" had stressed me out.

Ankine Luisi! Damn! I was screwed. Did I say that already?

"Oh, Spark?" I turned back to face Rikka. What now?

"I mean it. You know what will happen if you don't put this right? You're lucky I've given you this long. Anyone else and..." Rikka sliced a fat finger across the place his throat would be if he had a neck.

"I know. Don't worry."

"I'm not, but you should be."

I was gonna die. Horribly.

Just before the door closed, I popped my head back around. "Um, can I have a car, or a ride?"

Rikka looked up from some papers. "You know where the keys are, now get out of my sight."

This time I managed a quick wink at Plum. She ignored me. She was deep into new poundage territory.

Time for a Ride

Back at reception, I asked the new girl for a key and after a little to-and-fro, with a few winning smiles from yours truly that she almost seemed immune to, she gave me a set. I headed to the private parking area for Rikka's fleet of vehicles and pressed the unlock button on the fob then got in the Range Rover that flashed its welcome.

Oliver was nowhere to be seen, so things were looking up already.

The interior was nice. Quiet, with that new car smell that always makes you feel rich, even if it isn't your car.

What a mess. I was in this deeper than I could have possibly imagined and it would only get worse now I'd found out exactly why I'd done what I'd done.

Ankine Luisi. The Armenian. Your worst nightmare come true. And I'd been sent to deal with her. No wonder I couldn't remember what the hell had happened. She was one seriously scary lady, with some serious skills under the strangely plain exterior.

In movies, the vampires and the female antagonists are always all hot and sparkle. They get up with full make-up on and are always beautiful and shiny, but life isn't like that. Most people from our world are just everyday looking folks, apart from the odd extremely handsome man, of course. Ahem.

We look like you, like everyone else. Fat, thin, ugly, pretty, super hot, or super gross.

Those that weren't human at some time, or still human, are a different matter. The only way they can get along in the human world is to have some kind of screen up. It comes with the territory; it's just how it works. That's magic for you. It wants to stay hidden. In fact, it doesn't want to be here at all. That's why it makes you so sick to use it.

But for genuinely magical beings like trolls, goblins, dwarves, the proper, magical dwarves, and all the rest, then they have a natural filter that hides their true selves when in the company of Regulars. But they can't choose it. So, just like us, some look good, others are a mess, and there's nothing they can do about it.

The Armenian is different. She can take on many forms as that is her nature, what she is. If you meet her, and pray you don't, you would see a rather unnoteworthy looking woman of indeterminate age, maybe early thirties, maybe late twenties, with mousy brown hair, brown eyes, and rather plain features. That's her secret, her power, how she traps you.

But look closely, really look, and you find she has this "thing" to her, something that sucks you in, like a spider drawing you deeper into its web, and you are very lucky if you can ever escape.

Succubus, in other words. A siren, a truly, honest-to-goodness, other-worldly being that simply will not be tamed. She's wild, unruly, unmanageable, and dangerous as hell. The Armenians were as happy as an elf with a park full of children to steal when she decided to come play with us here in the UK.

What's worse was now it seemed she was in Cardiff and I'd been tasked with dealing with her once and for all. I didn't need to ask why, everyone knew. She was a wildcat, would answer to no-one, and had to be stopped. Rikka had finally been told that she had to go, and that had been passed on to me. As you can tell, I wasn't doing a great job of it so far.

Thud, thud, thud.

The bang on the window scared me nearly half to death and sickness blanked my mind as the Empty surged through my veins, instincts primed to fight in an instant.

"Bloody Oliver," I moaned, then turned.

Nope. It was Barrack, one of the goons from the gym, and a real pain in the ass. I sighed. The window wound down with a press of a button.

"What do you want, Barrack? I'm busy."

"You broke the Law, Spark, you gotta pay."

I was amazed I'd lasted so long without someone trying to beat the magic out of me, so it was kind of a relief. It made life a bit more normal. I dealt with this every day, his type of attitude and posing.

Let me tell you one thing now, and I've learned it from experience so it is definitely true. It doesn't matter how big they are, the little guy can always win. He just needs to be smarter, or faster. Well, I was faster than Barrack, and definitely smarter. Heck, his dumbbells were smarter than him.

Actually feeling relieved to have a distraction, and a way to release some nervous energy, I stepped out of the car. Barrack took a few paces back to let me out.

"Look, mate, I'm seriously not in the mood. If you want to go at it, then fine, but the Boss won't be happy if I can't deal with the current situation." I knew he wasn't listening. He wanted to fight. Whatever.

"I've never liked you, Spark. You and your stupid suits, and what's with the hair? You look like a mop."

"Ooh, scathing. You been thinking that one up the whole time I was in the gym?" By the look on his face he had, and it was the best he could come up with.

"Shut your face, you, you, stupid wizard."

"That hurts, Barrack, that really does." This guy is such an idiot. He's what you would call a genuine goon, used to do the less than savory work all mages in Rikka's position have to deal with when they are trying to run a business and also run a rather unruly magical menagerie.

Barrack lunged for me, huge body rippling with muscle like he'd been force-fed steak and steroids for years. If he got me in that bear hug I'd disappear into the slabs of meat like a gnat. He wasn't just big, he was freaky huge, looking even more so outside with his training vest and shorts on—a true freak of nature.

He is also a shifter, and it didn't take a genius to take one look at his monstrous frame, bushy beard, and coarse hair all over his arms and chest to guess what he shifted into. At least for me anyway. Even dopes like Barrack manage to control themselves in public places, so if a Regular was watching all they would see were two mismatched guys fighting.

His features rippled and the grizzly bear's teeth snapped at my head as the now seven foot beast tried to wrap huge, hairy arms around me and throttle the life out of me. Claws that would rip through flesh like butter were bent, ready to rip me to slices of raw protein, and you could bet he'd eat me in his current state.

Blackness enveloped me. I felt my eyes turn dark and flecked with silver, as my right arm shot up, heel of my hand punching out with the power of the Empty behind it and I connected with the wet, squishy nose of the bear-man. No point using much magic on the idiot, it wasn't needed.

He howled like a baby and the shifter shrank, replaced with a goon clutching his broken nose, tears streaming down his face.

"You bwoke my dose," he moaned as I opened the car door and settled myself again. Aah, new car smell.

"That's what you get for being such a muppet," I said before slamming the door. I started the SUV and was gone before he managed to set his mangled nose back into place.

Barrack isn't a bad guy, just dumb. A good goon. But I'm not an enforcer for nothing. We are quite good at what we do. The sickness passed as my tattoos settled down and my eyes became my own. I turned on the headlights as the rain came down again. Bloody rain, it's like summer was in denial—it always is in Cardiff.

As I drove, a plan formed in my mind. It was stupid, dangerous, could go badly wrong, but I had no other options or ideas. And besides, if I didn't sort out this magic faux-pas soon it wouldn't matter if I dealt with the Armenian or not. I would still be the most hated man in magic-land, so I had to put it right.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the last person I wanted to speak to: Dancer.

"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.