Hidden Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 6) (15 page)

I'd seen snippets of him as a truly young man, holed up in the wilds of Finland. Living alone in a cave for years, chanting, calling to the Empty, finally mastering it.

There were centuries where he did nothing but live in realms no mortal should be able to set foot, let alone survive without losing his mind. Endless journeys around the globe, meetings with strange Hidden. Exploits and wars started by his meddling, the toppling of kings and queens, despots and rulers of all description.

And all the while he'd grown his powers, birthing the first of the vampires and zombies, although I hadn't seen that, but I believed it. He'd done so many things, and I was understandably a little concerned for my own wellbeing at the time, but one thing had stayed with me and that was that he had a serious control issue and would not stand for the Hidden world to be anything but how he envisioned it.

He wanted control, order of a sort, but to keep Hidden on their toes, to make full use of magic and not get caught up in petty politics.

Over the years he'd forgotten what it was to be truly human, which means to fight and bicker, act petty and do stupid things.

What he didn't realize was that he was more human than he imagined because he did all of that, and worse.

"So, what are we going to do?" I asked.

"We?" asked Oskari, raising an eyebrow. "You mean you, Black Spark. You are going to stop him."

"Damn, I was hoping you had a better plan than that. No way, I'm outta here. How the hell can I deal with him? The dude walked right into my body and took possession without asking. He's immortal, can't be touched by magic, as you yourself just said, Oskari, so what chance do I have?"

"Spark, we've been talking," said Dancer, "and we both agree that you are, without doubt, the luckiest, hardest to kill, and most handsome son-of-a-bitch either of us have ever met. So, yes, you, my friend, are hired. We'll pay you well, right, Oskari?" Oskari nodded.

If only he hadn't said I was the most handsome. I'd almost believed what he was saying for a minute.

"I've already been paid," I mumbled.

"Damn, you got some gold, didn't you?" Dancer had clearly assumed I hadn't managed that side of the deal with the dwarves after all that had happened, and I'd forgotten to mention it. I did, honest. "Keep it, if you deal with this."

"Fine. Now all I have to do is find him."

"Oh, I know exactly where he is," said Oskari.

"Great."

Old Haunts, New Faces

The Hidden Club. Home to boozers, snoozers, losers and bruisers. Smokers, jokers, the angry and the sad, the happy and the fearful. And anyone looking for a nice place to swill beer and fight. They also do comedy, if you can call the Chemist's own brand of ghoul inspired stand-up, comedy. Mostly people go because it's cheap, warm, you can smoke, and get punched in the face or zapped with the dark arts, or do likewise to some other poor sap.

I like it.

A lone Regular came out the door shouting, the stale odor of cheap alcohol and a haze of smoke trailing him like a ghostly stalker. He was shaking his head, muttering about the place being full of crazies. It was obvious it was his first time, and the strange goings-on of many of the Hidden clientele would definitely have screwed with his mind.

He would have witnessed all manner of rather peculiar looking people—behind their Regular veil—shouting and fighting and any magic used would have been invisible, so the way drunken goblins, wizards, and shifters acted would certainly leave you scratching your head. Daft thing was, he'd probably be back. There's something about the place, something almost irresistible. Regulars can't quite put their finger on it, just knowing that this is a den of iniquity unlike any other—boy are they right.

As far as I was aware, nobody else knew about the gremlins. Poor Macdubhgall had called Dancer, and he'd called me, so it was just him and Oskari that knew Dragon had gone off the rails or even that he was in town and who he was. The Cardiff Hidden are a rather jaded lot—being at the center of magic in the country has that effect—so most wouldn't believe Dragon even if he told them who he was, and many would never even have heard of him, especially true Hidden. After all, most of them were carrying on about their business long before humans found a way to access the Empty.

What the hell was I going to do? Just go in there and drag him out, make him pay with his life for what he'd done to the gremlins, and the vampires? Truth was I didn't care about the vamps—the world would be a better place without them—but, of course, Kate was vampire, and the world would definitely be a worse place without her.

In usual style, I decided to go with the flow and see what I could do. Dragon was loose, he was wild and utterly unstable, but I had to find out what his plans were, what he had in mind for our Hidden world that had been suspiciously quiet for many years now.

Hell, why did I have to let him out? Okay, maybe I didn't actually let him out, but why was it me that had to get involved in this? It felt like a damn conspiracy. I was all up for being eased back into the enforcer life, not jumping in at the deep end where it was full of sharks and other nasties that would drag me down and make it impossible to break the surface ever again.

Here goes nothing. I pushed through the doors and descended into the gloom.

Almost immediately, I had to duck as an imp flew past and slammed into the brick wall behind me.

"I was just checking to see if they matched," moaned the imp as it rubbed its bald, red head. It scowled at the bearded shifter that shimmered, showing its animal side—a wolf that was less than impressed with the imp's excuse. He lunged past me, trying to get to the imp, but the red demon looked down, smiled as it realized it held a red sock in its tiny clawed hand, fist pumped, and shouted, "Yes!" then was gone in a puff of noxious smoke.

I made my way through the busy bar, packed with customers even though it was almost three in the morning and a work day. It was loud, the floor was stickier than normal with spilled booze, and the air so dense with various tobacco smokes I had to waft my way through to see where I was going.

At the bar, I ordered a beer from the stoic Brewster Bunker. Owner, troll, and creature of few words, more likely to grunt and smash your head into the polished wooden bar than to get into a deep philosophical conversation about the meaning of life. Although, I'd had just such a conversation with him once. A one-off when we had a strange connection and he showed me the truth of the trolls, why they're really here and that they're a lot more intelligent than you would expect from their outward appearance and actions.

For Regulars, Brewster appeared as an overweight man of six feet six wearing a checkered shirt, rolled up at the sleeves to reveal meaty forearms covered in hair and perfect for bashing you with. He had a square head and a mop of brown curly hair that came over his forehead to meet cold eyes that took you in and made you squirm.

For us Hidden he was much, much larger, looked like the lump of immortal rock that he was, and was just as intimidating. I took a sip of the cool beer and turned away as I pulled a face—I'd been off the booze for a long time and the taste felt alien.

Scanning the room in a break between communal smoking, I searched for Dragon. It wasn't difficult to find him. He was sitting at the largest table with a number of unconscious Hidden spread around him on the floor. They'd clearly objected to him claiming their spot so he'd dealt with them and taken it anyway.

Maybe twenty human Hidden were seated at the table, leaning forward, rapt, hanging off his every word. He was waxing eloquent about something or other, but I couldn't hear a word above the din of the place. I'd have to go over, see what was what, and take it from there.

"Sorry to interrupt," I said, not that I was. All eyes turned to me. Angry eyes, not happy that Dragon was halted mid story, or mid preaching, whatever it was he was doing.

"You don't interrupt Dragon," said an old wizard I knew only too well. He was a mean-spirited man that clung to outdated concepts and refused to believe anything good could come of the modern world. Which was why he looked like shit and was always drunker than a dwarf on mine closing day.

"You don't tell me what to do, old man. Get back to your hole before I put you in one."

"Now, now, gentleman," said Dragon amicably. "Let's all stay friends."

"Can I have a word?" I turned to Dragon, ignoring the stares and the grunts of the rest of his motley crew. "Now."

"Of course, dear boy, pull up a chair. I was just telling these nice folks about the time I—"

"So they know who you are?" I asked, getting a very bad feeling.

"Absolutely. The Dragon is back and he isn't hiding any longer. I had a revelation down in the mines, know what I have to do. The time has come for humanity to rise and claim what is rightfully theirs."

My suspicions were confirmed then. He'd lost the plot on an epic scale, which was not good news. "Save it for someone that believes your crap, Dragon. I want a word. Now!"

"Hey, Spark, you can't talk to our founder, our leader, like that. He's the one that gives the orders, not you."

I turned to the wizard again and stared him down, letting my eyes snap to black hard and fast, giving him a taste of my power as magic built, crackling around my body in warning. "I may have been gone a while, but that doesn't mean I can't blast you to bits in a heartbeat. Move, all of you. Right this minute."

They murmured and fidgeted, but they moved, although not without looking to Dragon first, who nodded his head, telling them it was all right.

There is nothing worse in this world than a fanatic, apart from maybe a fanatic that can do magic. This was going to be trouble, and on a grand scale.

I pulled up a chair, straddling it and resting my arms on the back as I stared into Dragon's eyes. "What are you doing? You've told everyone who you are, and I assume shown them something so they believe?"

"I did a little possession like I did with you, a few other things. The word is spreading, Spark, my people are coming."

"What people? You mean those that have always thought of you as a prophet?"

"Exactly," he said with pride. "Through the ages there have always been those who believed, and I have come and gone from the realms of man and set things right on occasion, got rid of the fools, cleaned up the mess those that don't deserve to have magic have made."

I knew all about that, if the stories Dancer and Oskari had told me this evening—or was it morning?—were true. Not only did Dragon come amongst us now and then and share knowledge, he also came and caused no end of suffering with wars and death on an unimaginable scale often the result. He messed with things, used his religion as a means of getting what he wanted, whatever that was.

"Why?" I asked. "Why are you doing this? What do you hope to gain?"

"My dear boy, isn't it obvious by now? I have come to take us to the next level. To allow humans to dominate the planet. Those that know magic are so far beyond Regulars, it is time they were put in their place. Other Hidden, too. Did you know there are nests of vermin in this very city? I began dealing with them myself, but then thought, why not get my wyrmlings to do such mundane work? I have bigger things planned than cleaning out Hidden that will serve no purpose."

"You killed the gremlins. They were my friends. They were harmless."

"They were an aberration," he hissed. "Entirely useless. From now on things will be different. I'll lead us to a new age, a new dawn where Hidden humans and those once human rule, and magic is a part of this world."

"No, it won't work." And it wouldn't. The reality is that if the world as a whole got wind of what really went on then we would be wiped off the face of the planet. It would make the two world wars look like a bitch slap.

Magic is too volatile, too dangerous, and too damn scary, for it to ever be accepted. Let alone all the true Hidden with their unorthodox view of the world—they would be hunted and destroyed. Magic was to remain Hidden, everyone agreed on that. Even if we were somehow accepted, what chance was there that some nut job wouldn't decide they wanted to rule and then went ahead and unleashed Armageddon through magic? Yeah, exactly. He was right in front of me.

"It will, and I'll make sure it does. It's already started, Spark. This is the dawn of a new era. We've remained in the shadows long enough. I will clean up the world and there will be no more hiding. People must accept the potential they have inside and nothing will stop us."

"Us?"

"Yes, and so it begins." Dragon turned at the sound of voices entering the club.

"He's here, he's here. It's really him," came a cry from the top of the stairs, and then a mass of bodies pressed down into the club, all of them chanting, "Dragon, Dragon," eyes wide, looking manic and utterly awed by the sight of the man who'd given us magic.

Dragon stood, spread his arms wide, and shouted, "The Dragon has returned and the Dragon is not happy. I gave you magic to make humanity great, and you abuse it, use it for petty purposes. You squander it and you get drunk and you waste your time learning how to harness the power of the Empty yet do nothing with it. We are meant to rule the world and you have been found wanting."

Hell, this wasn't good. The crowd of zealots shoved their way across the room and pressed close around Dragon, clamoring for his attention.

"My true followers, my wyrmlings, those that have never strayed from the path, these unbelievers have failed you, failed me. They must die. All of them."

And with that the killing started.

Death at Dawn

Dragon's strange hazel eyes snapped to a ferocious orange as he lifted his hands above his head and clapped, once. A thunderous
BOOM
vibrating the ceiling, rattling pictures off the walls, sending bottles of spirits and the mirror behind the bar crashing to the ground, exploding into a million pieces.