Evil Spark (6 page)

Stanley brushed a cadaverous pale hand through hair as white as a vampires canines. I watched, mesmerized, as the sun streamed through the window and highlighted his old fashioned Brylcreemed hair like a halo. But he's no saint. I think sometimes he's the devil incarnate, sent just to do my head in.

I got my act together and said, "You went out on a date with Grandma, so Kate tells me."

"Yes, and thank you for asking her my dear boy, it was a most interesting evening. She's a feisty one, and no mistake."

"You better not have... done anything."

"I will have you know I was the perfect gentleman," said Stanley looking completely shocked I could suggest he would be anything else.

"Good. So, what then?"

"What then? Well, we had a lovely meal at Ginaro's, I took her home, she invited me in—"

"What! You sly old—"

"For a cup of tea. She does make excellent tea. And then I said goodnight and I haven't seen her since."

"But you know what's happened to her, don't you?"

Stanley crossed a leg, his fingers idly fiddling with the razor sharp crease of his perfectly pressed trousers. He is a dapper fellow and no mistake. He is always well turned out, immaculately dressed at all times, reeking old world charm—it's the prescience and the fact he likes to play with corpses that puts me off. I wasn't happy about him and Grandma though. God, if they stayed together he could be part of my life all the time. Ugh. As long as Grandma was alive, that is.

"Stanley?" prompted Kate. He seemed lost in thought.

"Sorry, I'm just thinking about how best to tell you what I can tell you. You must understand that it would do no good to tell you too much. It would disturb the future and then where would we be? I have always made it my policy to follow what I know will happen precisely. Break the flow and all manner of messy things happen."

"Just tell me what's happened to her."

"I'm afraid I can't. Don't you see? If I tell you then that would break the rules. I'm a seer. I know my own future, not everyone else's. I live my life in a dream, Spark, you know this. I know my future and I know what happens to me."

"And is Grandma in this future?"

"If I told you that then I would tell you whether she is alive or not. And that could change the entire future of everything. You must do what you do with no interference from me. That way things will work out as they are supposed to."

"Is she alive?" I was angry, shouting. What was wrong with him?

"Yes, and no. It's the paradox, I'm afraid. The Schrödinger's cat thing. She is just as much alive as dead until you uncover the truth and find out what has happened. I can say no more than that."

I got up, unable to deal with his mumbo-jumbo any longer. "Well, that's just great, Stanley, real great. She could be dead, she could need my help, and you won't tell me a goddamn thing!"

"And if I do? What then? If I tell you if she is in my future or not, if I am stood beside you as you give her away to be my wife, or we are stood next to her grave, what then? You will still have to find out what has happened, as if you do not then the future I see will be a lie, and it is never a lie. I see my future, and I know what happens to those in my life, and what I see is done, has happened, so that is how it must happen. There is no escaping that. And I do not tell you what I have seen, as it will interfere with what I have seen, and that is impossible."

"Okay, Stanley, I get it." I didn't, it made no sense. It's not just me, is it? This stuff is nuts. Think about it and you will be madder than a faery locked in an empty pizza box. "You are trying to help in your own way. You don't want to interfere as it may jeopardize me finding out what happened at all, right?"

Stanley brightened. "Right. I'm glad you see it like that, Spark. She is a fine woman. I do think an awful lot of her. I shall see her again." He said no more.

"Okay, thanks, Stanley. Come on, Kate, it's time to go see Rikka, see what he's uncovered, and what he's been up to." We stood and I had to ask, but Kate beat me to it.

"Um, Stanley, what's with all the craziness?" She indicated the riot of color on every surface, every piece of furniture. It's so out of character, not what you would expect from Stanley at all.

"I like disco."

"Oh, okay."

"Nice, isn't it?" We studied him, not knowing what to say. This is a man I have always thought of as a throwback to more gentlemanly times. He's always so proper and polite, if rather odd. But his home was full of brightly painted walls, a mismatch of color and very gaudy furniture, a complete mad riot in fact. There were disco balls and lava lamps, framed Abba pictures, signed by the look of it, and, well, this was Stanley.

"Um, lovely," I said.

"Very... colorful," said Kate diplomatically.

"Would you like a cup of tea? I don't think Govan drank all the milk."

"No thanks, we have to go. About the cat, Stanley?"

"Yes, what about him?"

"Never mind. See you soon."

"My door is always open, and I am sure I shall see you at the morgue soon enough."

We left. I wondered if he meant I would see him as I often end up there in my job as enforcer, or, you know, because I'd be dead and he'd be staring at my brain before he plonked it on the scales and began rooting around inside me for my liver.

Seers! They do your head in.

As we walked from Stanley's, and let our eyes adjust to what suddenly felt like a very drab world even with the sun shining brightly and everything alive for a brief spell, I felt so deflated and empty. What a waste of time that had been.

"At least we know she's alive," said Kate.

"Eh? He didn't tell us anything."

"You men, you are all the same." I didn't get it at all. "You would have missed it. But I was watching, and when he talked about a wedding, his eyes lit up. She's alive, Faz, I'm sure of it."

"What, and he's going to be my granddad-in-law? Great. The day just keeps getting better."

"That, or it was wishful thinking. But the way he looked, the hint of a smile, I'm sure she's alive."

"She better be. Right, let's go see Rikka, and get a car from him too. We need wheels as I get the feeling this will be a very long day."

Kate put her arm through mine and pulled me to a halt. She turned her head up and kissed me, wet and warm, full of promise. "We'll find her, don't worry."

We went to see Rikka, the Boss. Head of all things magical in the UK, and not a man to take lightly an old friend being taken by vampires.

"What was with the cat?" asked Kate.

I shrugged. When you've been around as long as I have, little surprises you.

To the Gym

Rikka is a powerful man. Fat, too. He is the Head of the UK Dark Council, and the UK Hidden Council. Dark Council for Hidden humans, Hidden Council encompassing all Hidden.

Actually, come to think of it, all species, or humans with specific abilities, have their own Councils too. It's politics, and it's the same for us as for Regulars—stupid, confusing, often contradictory, and ultimately pointless. But at least we don't have much paperwork, so that's something.

Bucking convention, and always with an eye on money and his business interests, Rikka set up his headquarters in the back of a hardcore gym exclusively for Hidden, behind a magic-infused door at the rear of his fitness center. Most Heads have a suitably large, and exactly what you would expect, setup, like Taavi, but Rikka is Rikka and you don't argue. It's always seemed to work for him, so maybe he has always known best—he probably has, he is eight hundred odd years older than me anyway.

We got out of the taxi at the entrance to the fitness center, imaginatively called Rikka's Fitness Emporium, and waded through the heavy air, thick with the smells of the city. Half-blinded by the sun reflecting off every surface, we headed to reception, grateful to get into some shade.

I should have thought to take sunglasses with me, but it's not exactly a habit when you live somewhere where an umbrella is the first thing you grab as you walk out your front door.

The new girl wasn't behind the counter at reception, which was a bit odd, but when she came screaming down the lobby at us it didn't seem so odd after all.

Her eyes were wide. She was freaking out human clients, and when she saw me and Kate she ran straight for me with arms so wide I thought she was gonna try to rugby tackle me.

"He's gone, he's gone. Everyone's gone. The place is trashed. I don't like this job any more. I just wanted some extra money while I got my license, but I quit. This place sucks."

With that she released me, smiled at Kate as Kate has that effect on you—she's a vampire and it always pays to be nice to ex-humans that suck blood on a regular basis—then ran out the door and didn't look back.

"Um, that was weird," I said, standing there not knowing what to do. People were staring at Kate, and almost staring at me, but they don't really see me. I'm the everyman, totally forgettable, shielded behind a touch of magic that is always with me. Already they were forgetting I was there and I wouldn't even be a faint memory to the Regulars—my world is not yours, and it's better that way, trust me.

"I think we better go see what spooked her. What did she mean, Rikka's gone? What was she so upset about?"

"No idea, but you can bet it isn't good." It seldom is.

I think we both got the same sinking feeling, knowing it was tied up with Grandma's disappearance, but we went to find out anyway. We wouldn't be very good Hidden if we didn't go to investigate the chance our Head had gone missing.

Okay, maybe not Kate's—the vampires refused to acknowledge the Dark Council—but Kate is still fresh to vampiredom, and anyway, Rikka is nicer than Taavi. He's less bitey, less of a look-into-my-eyes-and-I-will-own-you-for-eternity kind of Head, which is always a bonus in my book. "Let's go find out."

The door to the gym is a special door. It can't be opened by Regulars, and just as well, as normally it is full of Hidden pumping iron on equipment that makes it look more like a torture chamber rather than any gym you are ever likely to have seen. I grasped the handle, let the hint of magic that was needed flow through me and into it, and the lock clicked open.

"Great, this is just what we need."

"Blimey. Is it usually like this?"

I turned to Kate to see if she was joking. She was, but she wasn't. This was her first time in Rikka's headquarters, and I guess it was hard to tell what was just a modified squat rack for trolls and what was, well, seriously messed up.

The fact there were dwarf exercise hammers, goblin leg curl machines, ghost cable crossover pulleys—don't ask, it gets very complicated, the grips are a bitch—and more plates scattered around the rubber floor than you could shake a dumbbell at, made it obvious something had gone on. Normally, every plate and piece of equipment was put back in its place after use. Rikka won't stand for a shoddy environment.

Worst of all, and what made me sure something bad had gone down, was the box of cream cakes on Rikka's desk as I stood beside his oversized chair. They were nearly all still there—Rikka would no more leave cakes than a gnome would go out without its hat.

"Just what the hell is going on?"

"Maybe that has something to do with it?" I turned to see what Kate was looking at. There was a hole, a very large and very troll shaped hole, in the wall beside some seriously mangled equipment.

"Could be," I said, carefully stepping over pieces of metal bent like they were children's straws. Shows the mess I was in to miss such a large section of pulverized wall, but the equipment was so trashed it kind of hid it. Okay, I got fixated on the cakes.

"Where is everyone?" Normally the place is packed, overflowing with magic creatures pumping iron, challenging each other to lift heavier and heavier weights, or just soaking up the atmosphere. The gym is usually so testosterone-ridden your muscles grow just by being in the room.

"Hard-Head no catch ninjas." The troll blocked the hole perfectly. It was clear who the culprit was.

Oh yeah, things were about to turn ninja-tastic.

You know, for over a century I've dreamed of being a ninja. Dressing in black and creeping about on decorative rooftops in those cool black sandal things they wear. Whipping nunchucks around, making the
whoosh-whoosh
sound, spinning shuriken at my enemies whilst acting all nonchalant and kick-ass. Who hasn't? It's not just me, right? C'mon, own up.

But I never thought, not even in my wildest dreams, that a bunch of ninjas would steal the most powerful human user of magic in the UK from a gym full of trolls, shifters, dwarves, gnomes, ghosts—although fair enough, they wouldn't be much use—and the odd wizard, necromancer, and a mage from Russia who had come for the castles and had decided to stay a few centuries.

"Ninjas?" I said, coming out of my shock and reverie.

"Ninjas?" said Kate,

"Floating ninjas," said Hard-Head. He's more intelligent than most trolls. Most don't have such inspired, and belabored names. Yeah, I know. They aren't very inventive, even the comparatively smart ones.

"Floating ninjas!"

"And walk through walls. Impressive," said Hard-Head.

"Well, of course they do."

"Wizard ninjas, that float," continued Hard-Head.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Um, Japanese. With big nose. Like goblin."

"Ah, right. So, what you are saying, is that a bunch of floating, Japanese, walk-through-walls goblin-wizard-ninjas came and took Mage Rikka away? Is that what you are telling me?"

Hard-Head nodded. "Yes. Me chase them, through wall," the troll lifted an arm thicker than my torso and pointed at the eight foot high, and just as wide, hole in the wall. A brick fell as it pointed.

"Oh, that wall." Look, it's hard not to be sarcastic around trolls, okay. They bring it out in you. Plus, you know, the ninja, goblin, wizard, walk-through-walls thing. It was a confusing time.

"Hello, did you see those wizard, goblin, walk-through-walls ninjas," came a deep baritone.