Evil Spark (17 page)

"Because I saw it, Spark. It had already happened. I followed my future. Don't blame me, I had no choice."

"There's always a choice, Stanley. We can always change our future. We make the choices, nobody else." I hoped that was right, otherwise what is the point?

Stanley smiled in that creepy-ass way of his, because he knew things I didn't. "What a strange life it has been. Told you I'd see you at the morgue soon, didn't I?"

Stanley died then. He was right though, he always was.

I turned slowly at the sound, the shift in the air making it obvious who it was. What it was, anyway.

"Our gift, to you," said Oliver, the usual sneer on his entirely smackable face.

"Chocolates would have been preferable. Maybe a nice bottle of wine."

"Shut up, Spark."

"Leave me alone, Oliver. I'm not in the mood."

"Boss wants to see you."

"No, I'm busy. In case you haven't noticed, Rikka is still missing. I have to find him now it seems you have dealt with the matter of Stanley."

"He doesn't want to see you now, he wants to see you tonight. As for him. Call it my gift to you. Kate paid us a visit after you, Spark, she's going to be a great vampire." He was trying to goad me, I knew it, but kept myself calm.

Truth is, I was too tired to be bothered. The relief knowing Grandma was all right had left me deflated. I could sleep for a hundred years and not once wake up for a pee.

"Fine, I'll be over tonight. What did Kate want, anyway?"

"She's a clever one, Spark. Was asking if there were any of us missing, or any new ones to our family. I told her no, then she left."

"I assume you have him?"

"Come on, Spark, you know we look after our own. We felt him. It took a while to track him down as he's new, but the more you freaked him out the more we picked up on him. Got him just in time too."

"He's a kid, Oliver. The boy wants to go to college."

"He won't be doing that now."

"No, I guess he won't." I felt sorry for him, even after what he'd done. He would be bad news in a few years. The vamps would keep him close, turn him into a real killer rather than a reluctant one. He'd already shown how malleable his mind was. They'd turn him bad.

"See you tonight, Spark."

"Yeah, see you tonight. And him?" I nodded at Stanley.

"Cleaners will be here momentarily, don't worry."

"I wasn't."

Oliver was gone. The door banged closed behind him. I stared at Stanley then left too, just slower.

Sleeping with Imps

What does it say about you when you feel kind of disappointed that you couldn't do nasty things to somebody? I felt let down that Oliver had got to Stanley before me as I'd wanted to make him pay. Maybe even try to understand, too. But I did, I guess. Stanley was caught up in a loop of his own making. Impossible to explain, and just plain wrong when you got right down to it.

He'd done such terrible things merely because he'd seen them in his own future, acted out a life already lived for no other reason than because he'd seen it. I don't even think Stanley was a bad man, not really. Reality got too much for him and he lost control—if he ever had any.

At least Grandma was home, and safe.

Much as I wanted to go see her right away, I knew myself well enough to know I needed rest. I'm the world's worst person if I don't get my sleep. I've always been the same. Anything less than seven or eight hours and I walk through life in a daze.

So I went home.

Shutting out the world as the door closed behind me was sheer bliss. No witches babbling away, no mindless chatter in the car, no goblins trying to beat me up, or gnomes being rude. Just the sweet smell of rose and citrus. And silence.

Utter, blissful, delightful silence.

I stood in the center of my home and stared around me. What was this life I led? This world I moved in, unseen by the majority of humanity? Was it what I wanted, this madness? Damaged seers, angry vampires, talking cat vampire shifters, Marmite obsessed oversexed imps, zombies, and lickable fae ears and dealing with Hidden that were sometimes nice, sometimes deranged? Was this what I wanted?

You know what? The truth is that yes, it was what I wanted, still is, even after everything that has happened.

This is me. Who I am. The life I have chosen and the world I choose to make my way in. Maybe it's my stubbornness, maybe it's my inquisitive nature, but I've always wanted to know the truth of things. It's not enough to live like other humans, I have to be a part of what is really going on.

I think I'd die of boredom if it all got taken away from me. All the hurt, the ups and downs, the fear and the shame and the madness and the utter amusingness of it all.

What does that say about me? I don't even know. Just that this is my world and I thrive on magic.

My winklepickers came off first, then I put my suit jacket over the back of a chair, and headed upstairs. I stripped down to my underwear, removed by socks, and stared at myself in the bedroom mirror.

Kate was right, I was too skinny. I would have to start eating more, not let enforcer jobs take so much out of me. Drawn like I've been a million times before, I looked at my ink, following the swirls and mesmerizing patterns that are so familiar yet so alien at the same time.

Smiling at memories I will always hold dear, I climbed under cool, clean sheets and lay back on the plump pillow. My head sank into it like I was relaxing on a pristine cloud. The smell of freshly laundered bedding is a thing of beauty, and with my hands behind my head I thought of Rikka, the man I would find, just like I'd found Grandma.

Rikka. Fat, greedy Rikka, is my salvation. He and Grandma are what saved me from myself, from getting my teenage self killed when my parents were murdered. I knew next to nothing at that age, was just a stupid kid, but they taught me of magic and the true depths of the Hidden world, and slowly I became a man.

On my eighteenth birthday, after almost four years of heavy study and even heavier moaning and complaining on my part about the lack of real magic I had, I truly became one of the Hidden.

I got my tattoos.

Rikka relaxed on a huge mound of cushions while a true artist began the arduous task of giving me my ink. The woman was covered from head to toe in tattoos herself, a true Hidden, powerful and to me entirely exotic. I had done well with my training, although I was too willful, but Rikka was pleased and I knew I would be a force to be reckoned with.

The ink is a large part of being a wizard if you wish to be as good as you can possibly be. It opens up the finer points of the Empty, allowing you to use dark magic in very powerful ways, so to say I was excited is like saying fae ears are kinda nice.

Rikka had been making me practice for months, summoning up magic from the Empty, letting it swirl around my body, and we would watch, mesmerized, as black lines drew themselves over my body. This was to be my art. No random patterns, but lines directed by the Empty itself. They would guide me, pull me deeper in, allow me to use magic in ways I couldn't even imagine at the time. But Rikka knew, and so did the tattoo artist.

It hurt like hell.

For weeks I went back with Rikka, getting more and more ink over my body, until finally it was done. I thought I was the business, but it was only the beginning. It took years to master and there were a lot of failures—along with numerous dangerous accidents—but I never gave up. Slowly, I became stronger, a more powerful apprentice, until one day I suddenly realized I was a wizard. Not just a kid playing with magic, but a real, honest-to-goodness, kick-ass wizard!

How cool is that?

"Hey, Spark, what you doing in bed?" asked Intus, appearing on the pillow next to me, ears waggling like she was testing the temperature.

"Don't you ever knock?"

"Knock? What for?"

"So I know you're coming. I could have been doing anything."

"Don't be daft, I know what you are doing. I'm an imp, I see it all."

"Oh, um, okay. Does that mean.... Doesn't matter."

"If you were about to ask if I see you doing human mating or sitting on the toilet or any of the other things you humans seem to think are private then of course I do," she said cheerily. "But don't worry. Imps aren't interested in things like that. It just gives us an opportunity to put hairs on your soap."

"Oh, right. Well, as long as you're happy."

"That's the spirit. So, Grandma's back. That's good news. I like her."

A thought came to me. "Hey, Intus. How come you couldn't just, you know, pop up wherever she was? Or where Rikka is, and tell me? It would save a lot of trouble."

Intus peered at me, then scratched her bald red head with a claw. "Oh, haha, good one. Er, you're serious? Spark, it doesn't work like that. I come to you because we are friends, but if it's like, you know, human issues, problems and all that, well, I can't interfere. It's not my nature."

"How'd you mean?" It was something I'd always wanted to ask. Intus could have helped me avoid a lot of hassle over the years.

"Well, I'm an imp, right?" I nodded. "I live in the true Hidden. I guess you could say in Impland, or something like that, and come to this world now and then. But we have rules. Hmm, more than that. We have limits, things we can do and things we can't, even if we want to."

"So you can't do whatever you want? It seems like you do."

"Nah, we never get allowed to do what we want. Can you imagine? Stuff would be nuts. You should see what some of them get up to anyway. I'm always off on one job or another." I could imagine all right. It would be bad. I forget that Intus is an enforcer like me. I wish I could see what she does, but their world is off limits. "We are mischievous creatures, it's our nature, so we do our thing, maybe even help out our friends how we can, but we can't just pop up and solve all your problems for you. It doesn't work that way."

"That's okay, I just wondered. You're a good friend, Intus, even if you smell of rotten eggs when you appear and disappear."

"You love it really. Who doesn't love the smell of sulfur in the morning. Or, um, the afternoon? Any time really!" To prove her point, Intus disappeared.

I was asleep before I had the chance to waft away the smoke.

*

I awoke with a start, half expecting to catch Intus rooting around in my sock drawer, but she was nowhere to be seen. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I ignored the way my body felt—ill—and reluctantly pulled back the covers.

My bedroom is at the back of the house so I stood and looked out the window, admiring the garden Grandma had put so much time into helping me get just right. I never seemed to spend enough time out there though, what with one thing or another, but I made a promise to myself then that I would take better care of my body and my mind, and put aside time each week dedicated to relaxing and pottering around.

Swathes of color blended with the dense plantings of herbs, something Grandma had insisted on. I even had a nice seating area, but it was all a little unkempt and needed some TLC. Find Rikka, then get my act together.

Guilt hit, inescapable. I needed to check on Grandma, then I needed to not only find Rikka but deal with the issue of Govan. The witches would not leave him be, no matter the circumstances surrounding his new life. He'd killed one of their own. They would have their revenge.

Stood there, alone, almost naked, I wondered what my parents would think of me now. Covered head to foot in magical tattoos, running around the city like a thing possessed, chasing bad guys and generally never getting any peace. I wiped my eyes. They were long gone, it was just me now. Me, Grandma, and hopefully Kate.

I wasn't making such a bad job of things, was I?

Dressing slowly, I picked a red shirt but forewent the jacket as although the weather was back to the usual overcast skies it was still warm. And besides, I wanted my ink to show. Just as a warning to the vampires I had to meet later on—do not mess with Black Spark.

Don't be Daft

I nodded to Barrack as I held the gate open for him to exit Grandma's front garden. He grunted back at me but didn't meet my eye. We'd had a run-in the previous week and I ended up breaking his nose. He may be a bear shifter but you know what they say about the big guys—yeah, they're big.

People forget that just because I like to dress smart and don't have bulging gym muscles it doesn't mean I can't fight, even without magic. I'm not an enforcer for nothing. This isn't the kind of job you can do well by sheer bravado, you have to genuinely know what you are doing. Well, sometimes anyway. What can I say? I'm not big on plans. I like to wing it. What do they call it? Yeah, I'm a pantser.

There was a pile of stuff outside the front door spilling off the step onto the path. People had heard Grandma was back so came to pay their respects. Even goons like Barrack respect her, and he went up in my estimation with such a show of consideration.

I guessed they weren't answering the door as it had probably got a little overwhelming, so I used my key and let myself in.

"It's me. Faz," I said, rather pointlessly. "Anyone home? Grandma? Kate?" I got a sinking feeling, ink scratching as my fear mounted, eyes darkening as I got ready to deal with whatever was wrong.

I felt rather foolish standing there in a fighting stance when Kate and Grandma popped their heads round the kitchen door at the end of the hallway and looked at me like I'd gone mad.

"Um, everything all right?" I asked.

"Course. Why wouldn't it be?" asked Grandma.

"Um, because you were kidnapped and drugged and went all funny in the head. Rikka's missing, and your witch friends want to rip a young kid apart because he let a seer manipulate him into doing something stupid."

"Don't be silly," said Grandma, waving it all away as if it was nothing. "Want a cup of tea? I've just made a pot."

"Ooh, yes please." Grandma makes the best tea ever. Thick and strong, but made with love. That's the secret ingredient nobody else could ever manage.