Neon Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 5) (10 page)

So I walked up to the hardheads, poked one in the belly, and insulted it by saying, "I bet you couldn't scare a group of seven-year-olds if they walked across a bridge. And your cave smells of wee." Okay look, it had been a long day so I had no great one-liners, but insulting a troll's cave, saying it couldn't even do a good scare, that's all it takes.

An arm like a tree shot out and missed grabbing and crushing my windpipe by a hair's breadth. I snorted in derision then poked my tongue out at the bewildered, and very annoyed guards. They both looked at each other, nodded, then came for me. So I ran away.

Again, I'd had a busy day, but it had the desired effect and they lumbered after me, faster than you'd think was possible for creatures so bloody big.

Breathing ragged, I ran for all I was worth, losing my pursuers in the chaos, then waiting until they got close before heading off again, further away from the place they were tasked with guarding. After losing them good and proper in what felt like an infinite maze of streets and alleys, I finally made it back to the door, leaving them far behind and utterly confused and disorientated. They'd return soon enough, though, so I had to be relatively quick.

I pushed on the door and it creaked open, revealing a narrow flight of stairs lit by a single bare bulb hung up high on a small landing above. I could hear voices and it sounded like some kind of argument. Both were male, but it didn't mean she wasn't here.

My eyes were dark and painful in a moment, mind clearing as I focused on the Empty and took what I could, grateful. Taking the stairs two at a time, I was up them before I had chance to change my mind and head off to catch the next flight home. There were three doors off the cramped landing, the rooms would be tiny, the house so small. The floors and walls made me feel weird as they weren't level, the result of centuries of slow movement until the house settled in its final resting place. I just hoped it wouldn't be mine.

That was no way to think. Black Spark, a kick-ass enforcer was here for justice. Mind empty, in the Flow State, I smiled as magic swept around my body. I felt invincible, high as a kite on stolen power I'd use to destroy anything that stood in my path. I walked to the one open doorway where the voices could be heard, still arguing. Maybe they knew I was doing the rounds?

Nope, I wasn't on their radar, apparently. Other things were, and the piles of cash told me exactly what.

I stood in the doorway, unnoticed as two obviously mid-level Yakuza shouted at each other, one pointing to an envelope on the desk, maybe accusing the other of not bringing enough from their rounds. It was the most money I had ever seen in my life. The desk was filled with identical envelopes, thick wads of notes I knew were worth many thousands each. There was a machine for counting notes and along one wall were stacks and stacks of neatly aligned bundles of money, probably millions.

A fox watched me silently from the shelf, sat beside the cash. It was golden, eyes revealing its intelligence, and as far as I could see it had more tails than it was supposed to.

The men must have realized something was up, because they stopped talking and turned to see why the atmosphere had changed.

"Howdy, fellas," I said, and then they each pulled a gun from their holsters and started firing.

More Tales of Tails

We don't really do guns in the UK, the controls are so tight that even gangsters prefer a more hands-on approach. I'd heard the same was true in Japan, but these guys obviously hadn't heard the news so carried on firing.

I was prepared, and a strong shield of magic cocooned me against the onslaught, with one little, but significant problem. A bullet is very fast, and very small, and boy does it pack a punch. I felt each tiny lump of potential death hit my body then slam me back, not doing outright damage but bruising the hell out of me. It's also incredibly disconcerting seeing a bullet millimeters from your face just stop dead in its tracks—it's almost enough to make you turn around and go play with the trolls instead.

But I held fast, smiled wickedly at the vampire goons, bosses, whatever they were, and generally tried to act intimidating so they'd back off. They had other ideas, and remained cool, calm, and collected as they stepped forward, still firing.

I couldn't take it for much longer. Already the force field was weak and each bullet got closer and hurt more. How many bullets did guns hold nowadays, anyway? It wasn't my area of expertise, meaning I didn't know if they were using Glocks or Magnums, or if they even looked like this, or were still preferred by those in the know.

Fed up with the punishment, I dug deep inside myself and felt the magic stir at my core. It swirled and tumbled out and away, taking the force field with it and slamming into the guys fast and hard, breaking two wrists and two arms in various places with a satisfying crunch as guns dropped and arms hung limp.

They moaned for a moment before smiling right back at me, and I watched as their own blood magic reversed the damage and began the rapid healing process vampires high on the death of their victims are renowned for. Both of them hissed, staring in horror at the mess of the room as piles of notes swirled in the magic-rich air, and all the while the fox sat motionless, looking utterly bored, tails swishing now and then—it was freaking me out.

With no magic shroud, the vampires took the opportunity to attack, but I hadn't come to die. As they shimmered and darted toward me faster than a Regular could blink, I lifted both arms, knowing exactly where they would arrive. I squeezed as hard as I could, fingers tight around their throats, forcing magic down my arms and through my aching fingers, spiraling into their bodies, mingling with their own corrupt magic until my will became real.

These weren't strong vampires, I bet they hadn't even been in the life that long, just more gangsters that Kimiko had personally turned to fortify her position. They didn't know what they were doing, hadn't counted on something like this, someone as fast as them, anger speeding up my mind and body.

They sank as I directed more frustration inside of them, clawing ineffectively at my hands, jaws snapping, drops of poison dribbling down their chins as their faces puffed up, red and gasping for air.

"Where is she? Where's Kimiko? Tell me!" I screamed, my voice sounding strange. Desperate, ragged, dangerous and not my own. They shook their heads; they didn't know. Or maybe they didn't understand what I was asking. Where was my translator when I needed her?

They were losing consciousness now so I loosened my grip a little and said, "Kimiko. Where? Doko desu ka?" They shook again, but they understood. My Japanese may be non-existent but I knew how to say where. "Okay, one last time. Kimiko, doko desu ka?" They were terrified, I could see that much, but it wasn't me, it was her. They would rather die than tell me, same as nearly everyone else I'd met that day. "Fine, your loss."

I wasn't in the mood, and maybe another time I would have just sucked the magic out of them and left them alive, but I heard the shouts, sensed the fear from the two locked rooms as I turned my attention to seeking out the source of the disruption, knowing what I would find.

As anger overwhelmed me, I forced murderous magic deep through my hands and into their bodies. It singed down their throats and burned through their central nervous systems, contaminating their blood. I let go as the magic took full effect, heating their blood, the temperature rising and rising until it was actually boiling. It erupted through their skin, their eyes popped and their faces basically exploded as capillaries burst and they vomited up their insides.

"Sayōnara," I grunted, as I stepped over the bodies while they fizzed and spat, searching the desk for any sign of Kimiko's current location.

There was nothing, and I knew I had other things to do first. It would have to wait. Reluctantly, yet knowing I wasn't totally lost to myself by showing compassion before personal satisfaction, I moved rapidly into the hall and unlocked the doors, bolted from the outside then locked, no need for keys with magic coursing so strongly through my veins.

I yelled, "Abunai!" then blasted one lock after another, pushing the doors open quickly. A frightened young girl in each room stared at me with wide eyes, curled up on their beds, the rooms stinking of stale sweat. The sweat of men, the sweat of fear and of loneliness.

"Free, understand? Go, go now." They squirmed, watching cautiously as I maintained my position in the hallway, hoping, and probably failing, to appear like a friend. I pointed down the stairs. "Free. Quick, go." They understood and each girl hurried from their room and down the stairs, shouting, "Dōmo arigatō gozaimasu," saying thank you in a formal manner, polite even in the face of such uncertainty and terror.

I went back into the room to see what I could uncover, hopefully before the trolls made it back. I really didn't fancy fighting them in such cramped conditions as there wouldn't be anywhere to run away to.

The fox jumped on to my head and started biting my face—I'd forgotten all about it, nine tails and all. Funny what you can get used to when in another country.

I remembered what it was right around then—a kitsune. I just hoped it wasn't a... Yeah, it was. A kitsune-bi, fox-fire, the name undeniably appropriate as when I grabbed it and flung it away it shot fire from its tails. Magic fire that would burn nothing but one thing. Me.

The fox faced me as I blocked the fire with hands still heavy with magic, and then it said, "Sorry about this, but I've got no choice," in a voice that wasn't spoken out loud but was in my head.

"There's always a choice, and why don't you make the sensible one and leave me alone? I'll go, no need for any trouble."

"Ah, if only I could", came the whisper, words but more of a meaning than in a language.

"Look, it's been a long day, long life. I just want to go home, have a rest."

"I too would like to rest, but my spirit ball is stolen. Kimiko-san has it and so I am beholden. I must protect this place, her sanctuary."

It made no sense. Where would Kimiko sleep if this was one of her homes? Maybe there was more to the place than I'd thought. But no matter, she wasn't here, I was sure of that, and neither was anyone else now. Just me and a creature that held all its power in a tiny ball of golden magic and was unable to resist orders by the one that had stolen it. God, what I wouldn't have given for a straight up fight with a creature from home at this point, at least they made sense—sort of.

"I'm really not in the mood," I said eyeing it carefully, tails swishing, fur bristling as it got ready for action.

"Neither am I, but you killed Kimiko's men, now I have to kill you." The fox crouched low and its tails lifted high, white tips angled towards me. I wasn't sure how you went about killing a supernatural fox that had nine tails, we don't get a lot of that type of thing in Cardiff. Before it could strike again something clicked, an old memory of reading of such creatures long ago when I'd been in Japan. That was it, the tails. You had to chop off the tails to stop it.

Sharp magic shot from my hand as I swept it from left to right like I held a sword, the silver thin and as dangerous as Intus' scythe. It crackled as it arced at the last minute, slicing clean through the top of a tail that erupted like a cork from a shaken champagne bottle, magic spilling out from the shortened tail fast and dangerous.

The kitsune howled loud, the cry of an animal in distress, and it shot red fire at me in return. Nine bolts of death came right at me, the shortened tail still seemingly functioning perfectly. Nine ways to kill me and end the pain, but I wasn't having any of it.

I forced the shield back around my body, reluctant and slow, felt my clothes burn as strange magic hit, and then I was saved from the full blast by my draining will. I patted at my jacket in panic but no sooner had I felt the flames than they were gone. Was it real? Yes, and no.

Magical flames that burned and would act like fire but weren't genuine. Spirit flame that needed no dousing as the magic waned seconds after it was released.

Tail docking it would have to be.

Some Compassion

Maybe it's a British thing, maybe it's a Western thing, but no sooner had the thought come to me than I changed my mind. This was a fox. Sure, it was trying to kill me, and sure, it had a lot of tails, but the thought of slicing them off, harming what felt like an innocent creature, made me feel like the worst kind of nasty.

It wasn't a cruel creature, was acting contrary to its nature because of the power Kimiko held over it, so was killing it justified? Yeah, if a puppy tried to kill me I'd feel the same way, and look what trouble I'd got into already on that front.

The fox attacked again, strong lines of fire tearing through the air at my head, the protection weakening as my hold over the magic waned. I had to act, and fast, or I'd be all crunchy and very dead. With hands still sore from the chewing incident, I decided on another approach and blasted over our heads.

Again, and again, and again, I shot black balls of damage at the timber-clad ceiling, pieces raining down on the fox as it tried to jump to safety. It was fast, and nimble, but there was nowhere to go. As the vampires and money were buried, I stepped back into the doorway. The fox screeched it's frustration as an avalanche of wood and then furniture crashed down from above. Chairs, lamps, rugs and more came from what was a very elegant bedroom with nice furnishings—simple, but definitely the same style as the house with the old lady.

Focusing on where the fox had been trapped, I saw with Hidden eyes that it was alive and unharmed, just held fast by the rubble. I had a few seconds so did what I always like to do during such situations—I ran away.

I didn't even make it to the top of the stairs before pieces of timber and half a very heavy lamp smacked into me as I turned at the eruption of noise. Something clobbered me right in the head and I stumbled back, dazed, missed a grab for the handrail and went tumbling backward down the steep stairs.