New Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 3) (17 page)

As I changed direction to get back inside, the woman did the vampire dance and stuttered to a halt in the doorway. She put her hands on her hips, grinning like it was all over.

I said, "You're in my house. I didn't say you could come in."

"Like I care. Your world is broken, Spark." She spoke like I was dirt, an annoyance, not worth the words.

"Not as broken as yours is about to be. I will obliterate you, all of you." I'd had enough. As the screams from inside grew louder, I walked right up to her. She watched me, amused, as I slowly brought up my hand. Her confidence faltered, but she was ready. Knowing what I could do, having witnessed it, she was poised to move fast if I tried anything with magic.

She would dodge me, she was confident in that. And I knew she was right. She wouldn't repeat the mistake her buddy just had.

See, this is the problem with overly confident people, they lose their edge, lose the ability to see what is right in front of them. Or in this case, behind them.

Kate grunted as the poker hit bone but kept on coming, pushing through the woman's throat at a steep downward angle. Kate's fingers were white where they clutched the brown metal, the tang of blood strong in the air, mixed with the rust of the poker and the almost overpowering smell of the cooked flesh of the dead intruder at our feet.

In a panic, Kate let go of the poker and ran back into the living room where it was quiet. The vampire grabbed the poker protruding from her throat, eyes locked on mine, as she pulled it slowly out.

She thought it would be one of those moments where I watched aghast as she did the impossible, then she would turn the tables, kill me, her blood magic saving her from such a terrible injury. But it wasn't one of those moments, and as she pulled on the bar I let the magic well again as the sickness came to claim its dues, my reprieve from the aftereffects seemingly less than a permanent relief but coming and going as it pleased.

No matter. I took it, and as my body weakened and the pain increased, I felt a particular section of ink on my upper chest wriggle and squirm like a tadpole in your palm when you scoop them out of the water as a child, tickling and knowing you have to be quick as you don't want to be mean. Well, I wanted the meanness, and the tickle at my neck became something else. That power, that feeling, I saw it leap.

My strength and focus made the magic come real, bending all in its path. It shot at the poker, now halfway through her neck, in a black line of ferocious energy as sparks of fury licked at her hands and the metal. As she fought to remove the poker so she could heal, the metal bent and curled back around her neck, fusing both ends so she had a half necklace of scalding metal.

Then I kicked her in the belly. As she fell, I grabbed the circle of iron and dragged her out of my goddamn house. Her feet scrabbled on the mossy flagstones as she tried to grip onto the pots of Kate's geraniums. Anything to get purchase and stop me, but I was lost to myself.

Out of my mind, I yanked her away and dragged her to the wood pile. I let her go with a clang of iron as she collapsed onto the stone. Hands steady, I picked up the ax from its position buried in the chopping block.

Unthinking, I cleaved in her skull. The steel, still shiny and new, the label still on the rubberized handle, sank deep into her forehead and split her nose in two.

Almost doubled up with pain, as magic retreated to the Hidden and the air danced silver, black, and blue with the rush to escape my thievery, I moved as fast as I could back inside.

I hadn't thought it could get any worse, but I was sorely mistaken. Plum was on the floor, dead. Beside her were the witches that had visited us earlier that day. Kate was drenched in blood, her mouth and chin stained scarlet, the flames from the fire flickering dangerously in eyes wild and buzzing.

Her teeth were biting into her lower lip, dripping foulness as she bent and ripped out the throat of the final witch. Flesh tore, then Kate sank into the sofa, the surrounding air alive with blood magic as she soaked it up, grew stronger, more powerful. A little less of a human being, if she still was at all.

It had been a simple ploy. The vamps out the front, waiting until I arrived so they could distract me and get Kate at the same time. Well, they'd underestimated us all. Kate had killed the witches, but seemingly not before they'd got to Plum in her shocked state.

My legs gave way, and I crashed down next to Kate, unable to talk, unable to think straight. My head was spinning. Everything was leaving me. My loved ones, my humanity, my entire life felt like a dream of hurt and suffering, of nonsense and utter futility. What was the point? Was this what it all came down to? Them killing us, us killing them? I didn't even know who them and us were any longer. The boundaries were blurred, and I wasn't sure I could cope.

The fire crackled; an owl hooted outside. Kate moaned next to me, body super-charged even as the barbarism took her over and she sank deeper into herself and lower on the sofa.

I stared at Plum. Beautiful, gorgeous, curvy and tough Plum, dead on my rug in front of the fire like a dog curled up for the night. Except Plum had magic inflicted wounds all across her once flawless skin. Her head was a mess, lumps and bruises disfiguring her so she was ruined. Wisps of green magic still danced around her body as a noose slowly dissipated. She'd been asphyxiated by a magical rope, strung up like a criminal.

I was glad Kate had killed them, but because of me she lost a little more of her humanity that night—another thing the vampires had to pay for. The sheer madness of the situation wasn't lost on me, but you can never judge an entire people or species by the acts of some.

I would trust and love Kate until the end of time if she remained human, and as I turned to her and saw the tears flow, I knew she was far from lost.

Then the pain took her, the price vampires pay for taking blood magic. It makes the hurt I endure feel like a walk in the park.

We sat. We screamed and we cried.

So much loss. So much hurt and suffering. So much death.

No Rest for the Wicked

"We have to go, Kate. We can't stay here. Kate?" I let my words seep through her fog of magic, blood, and self-recrimination. She slowly gathered her senses, came back to the world I didn't blame her for trying to escape from. Pulling myself together, I somehow got Plum onto the sofa.

The magic was gone. I was empty. Sickness passed, leaving behind a numbness and a calmness I knew was bad for me. When I get like that I'm dangerous, to myself and definitely to others. I feel nothing, just shut down emotions, become fixated on what needs to be done, and I've seen other Hidden run away when they see the look in my eyes. I knew I was in that zone and I didn't care.

Not thinking, not allowing myself to, I sat Plum upright and brushed her hair away from her once beautiful face. "I'll make them pay, Plum, and I'm sorry I used to stare at your bum. But it was nice."

When I close my eyes I can see her, picture her beauty, her strength, her tight outfits and her perfect bottom. Yeah, I know, Plum, I know you are shaking your head at me from your afterlife I bet is nowhere near as beautiful as you, but I can't help myself. It was, is, and shall forever be, like two bowling balls wrapped in silk. Take care, and give 'em hell. I know you are.

I put the blanket over Plum's head and pulled Kate up off the sofa.

I guided her upstairs and walked her like one of the undead into the bathroom. She didn't resist, just did as instructed, body on autopilot. I stripped us both down while I turned on the shower so it heated up and then I guided her in. I scrubbed her first, shampooed her hair, then did the same to myself while she stood there, body vibrant and screaming its sexual chemistry at me even in her absent state.

Blood magic rose through her veins even as she dealt with the horrific pain that comes with feeding, that makes the pain of using magic fade to nothing but a gentle toothache in comparison. But she showed no sign of the inner battle that raged. Kate let me clean her, guide her, and then towel her dry. She said nothing, did nothing.

In the bedroom, I dressed her and she helped a little, still not with it, not quite there. Now and then she doubled up, coughing as waves of hurt swam through her bloodstream as she assimilated the power of the witches.

I dressed in one of my best Savile Row suits, put on a red silk shirt, even a tie. I got a pair of new winklepickers from the wardrobe and tied up the tan leather shoes with laces that felt ridiculous to my sore fingers. Somehow, the smell of new leather and the feel of crisp and laundered cotton against my skin brought me back to my senses. My body was real, my own again.

This was right. This was me. I would kill until the streets were red with blood. I would have revenge for Plum, for my friend. They didn't know what the hell was coming their way.

I adjusted my tie, grimaced in the mirror at my beard that was a little too long, my hair that was still bleached but subtler than it had been, now preferring the slightly darker look.

I avoided looking myself in the eye, knowing I wouldn't like what I saw.

Vampires!

I called Grandma, told her to be careful, and to keep the doors locked. She laughed, explaining that her and several witches had put some serious spells to work—nothing was getting inside to harm the children. I broke the news about Plum, and about the witches dead on my living room floor.

She tutted in her usual way, like somebody had spilled tea on her table, and filled me in on some very important information. The witches that had rallied around to safeguard the children told her the vampires had spoken to a number of them, sent out feelers, same as they had to her, although they hadn't blatantly come out and asked if they would join them, but that was the gist of it.

It seemed a few had. Not many, probably the ones Kate had killed and a handful of others, but with so many missing from witch home ground they all now assumed that the vampires had sought retribution for their lack of acceptance. Or, had done it as an example to Kaisa Hayashi to coerce her and others into making the smart pills for the trolls.

It made sense, about the only thing that did, but it was mere speculation. I needed answers, real ones. I intended to get them.

Feeling weirdly whole just by showering and dressing in my usual smart work clothes, I stared at the bodies in the living room, not knowing what to do, just that I had to do something. For Plum's sake, I dragged the dead witches outside and left them with the vampires. I hoped they enjoyed each other's company in a seriously nasty purgatory—they deserved each other.

Kate was coming back to herself, to me, and as I closed the front door behind us, not bothering to lock it, I felt like the brief chapter of happiness in our lives was over. Another home violated, another sanctuary ruined, more lives obliterated. Shielding our eyes from the glare of the headlights, we made it to the car with no more surprises and buckled up.

New car smell welcome after the foulness of death stink, I drove back to the city, neither of us in much of a state to say anything, the darkness clawing at our minds as the country lanes huddled close, hiding the creatures of the night that knew nothing of mankind's ability to hurt each other so badly.

Rikka called and I broke the news. He was silent for a long time and I wondered if we'd lost reception, but he finally spoke again. "Wipe them out, Spark. All of them that had anything to do with this."

"Including Taavi?"

I could see him nodding his head sadly. "Yes, including Taavi."

"You know what that will mean, don't you?"

"I know, and I don't care. Some things are worth fighting over, worth dying over. I spoke to Dancer. He's doing what you asked right now. How long do you need?"

I tried to think through my plan, what I'd asked Dancer to arrange. How long would I need to put the things into action I hoped would work? "An hour, give me an hour. And tell Dancer they are to be there by then and to start whether I arrive or not. How is it going with him? Can they do it?"

"They can do it. It won't be pretty, and it won't last long, but there haven't been any complaints yet."

My throat felt funny, but I swallowed the rising tide of regret and soul-sucking sadness, and tried to sound strong. "Be sure to tell them about Plum. That should make them fight for their temporary return to life. For as long as they can manage, Rikka, tell Dancer that. I'm going to search out what else I need."

"Anything I can do? What are you up to?"

"Don't worry about it. Just get Dancer there, and, Boss, you too. No sitting this one out."

I knew he had an affronted look, hand on heart. "As if. I'll be at the front, leading the way, you can count on it."

"I think we might have to. This is one seriously messed up night."

"I know. And there will be hell to pay. Bye, Faz."

"Bye, Rikka."

It wasn't until we were almost at the city that I realized he'd called me Faz and I'd called him Rikka. It brought the lump in my throat back. Yeah, he gets me every time, daft old wizard that he is.

"What's happening, Faz? What are you planning?"

"Kate, this won't be easy for you, and I'm sorry. But by the morning there will be an awful lot of dead vampires."

"Good, they deserve it." She held my gaze. She meant it.

"Okay, so here is the plan."

Massacre

You know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men? I just hoped I wasn't the mouse, with its home ruined, its life in the balance, and no shelter or comfort to be found as the harsh Cardiff weather cut through my jacket and Kate shivered beside me.

I kind of got the feeling I was definitely the mouse.

After parking up, we walked through the quiet streets, that weird time after the pubs have emptied but the clubs are still full. I spotted a few gremlins, seemingly over their panic of earlier, morphing from their pigeon appearance back to gremlin when their magic veil lifted. There were no shifters, there were no witches, there were a couple of drunks, hardly any Hidden at all—our world was being torn apart. I hoped Intus was all right.