Hidden Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 6) Read online

  Some may call Madge's one and only menu offering a heart attack on a plate, I call it fried heaven. Add in a cup of tea so thick you have to use a touch of magic to get the spoon to move and you have perfection in perpetuity.

  I parked up outside, realizing I'd driven on autopilot, hardly even aware of the journey. Gosh, I really was out of it. I hadn't stepped foot in the city for almost six months—my stupor was such that I'd been nowhere, and I'd missed it. The rain, the smell, the hustle of people, all of it, the city called to me and finally I'd heeded that call.

  For a long time I'd stayed away from anyone Hidden, keeping temptation at arm's length, so my trips were few and far between, rushed and nothing but an annoyance as even though I used no magic I was still the everyman. That part of me seemingly stuck in limbo, ensuring I was nigh on invisible to Regulars because of a hint of protective magic that hummed away in the background now whether I liked it or not.

  And Madge's. It had been five years without a single visit. Not a sausage had passed my lips, not a hash brown had tempted me with its potato-based goodness. Not a perfectly runny fried egg had I devoured, and not a single encrusted ketchup bottle had winked at me, inviting me to taste the sugar-laced goodness.

  Boy was I gonna splurge. Double rations and extra sugar in my tea.

  I got out of the car and locked it, head still lost in the clouds, and grabbed the door handle to Madge's without really taking any notice, knowing it would be as it always was. Timeless, air thick and weighty with grease, making you gain a few pounds just by breathing such a heady mix of molecules.

  Almost beside myself, I opened the door with a flourish, winklepickers tapping on the lino as I made my way across the floor, smiling like a kid in a toyshop after being given an empty trolley and told, "Go forth and fill your boots, it's all free."

  I stopped halfway across the small room, lungs empty, saving it up, anticipating the first deep breath more keenly than a troll given a new bridge and a herd of goats waiting to cross.

  I spread my arms wide, face angelic, and breathed in until my lungs nearly exploded. "Aah, the smell of... New paint!" I coughed and spluttered, gagged and took short, sharp breaths to stop myself getting any dizzier, and took in my surroundings for the first time.

  It was the stuff of nightmares. No, no, no. This could not be. Not Madge's, anything but that. The lino was new, and it was red and white, not black and white and sticky and torn like it should have been. The walls were smooth and painted a soothing lilac, no sign of the grease-encrusted flock wallpaper I'd grown to love.

  Tables and chairs were modern steel, not mismatched and rickety, and there was a stranger behind the counter. The place was utterly deserted and it smelled of paint and not a lot else. I read the sign behind the counter above the head of a smiling, and very eager looking woman that kept trying to catch my eye. It had things like paninis, brioche, taster platters, and unknowable words for coffees that sent shivers down my spine.

  "Um, what happened? Where's Madge?" I croaked, addressing an alarmingly pretty, young woman with beautiful auburn hair and a spotless white apron.

  Her face dropped, inviting smile gone. "She's next door," she sighed. "I really thought this would be a good spot, offer healthy options to everyone, but the only visitors I get are people that come in the wrong door."

  I felt sorry for her, but couldn't hide the spreading grin on my face as I said, "Sorry, didn't mean to be rude," and got the hell out of there as fast as my shaking legs could carry me.

  Outside, I took a few steps back on the cleaner-than-usual frontage and checked out why I'd made my mistake. To the right of Madge's Cafe was the new place, Delilah's Delights, sign all shiny and new, paintwork pristine. In stark contrast to Madge's where the sign and the paint were so peeled on the woodwork you could read the entire history of the building. Delilah's windows sparkled, Madge's so steamed and grubby you couldn't see in.

  I practically ripped the door off the hinges and entered greasy paradise, this time for real.

  All is Not Lost

  "Hold it right there," barked Madge, looking like a scornful angel in her dirty apron as she paused her wipe-down of the counter. I was sure she was still using the same rag from five years ago.

  My lungs were struggling under the weight of air thick with the promise of steaming sausage and burnt toast, and all eyes turned to me as I heard the door creak closed behind me.

  "What? It's me. It's Spark, I'm back."

  "I know who you are, you fool," Madge scolded, giving me the evil eye. "What were you doing next door at that... that hussy's deli, you traitor?" Madge actually shivered as she spoke such a blasphemous word. As far as she was concerned, if it wasn't fried it wasn't real food. Even then it would probably have to have butter added before it passed her strict guidelines.

  None of this "Continental" mush for Madge, she was a traditional witch through and through, and would stand for none of that nonsense. She isn't racist, you can't really be prejudiced when half your best customers aren't even human, but she has her ways and she's sticking to them, just like I was to the lino.

  "It was an accident, I swear. I was looking forward to a fry-up so much I wasn't taking notice of where I was going."

  Madge studied me for what felt like an eternity, and I heard the snickers coming from the crowded room. I turned and gave them a look until each and every one of them focused back on their food.

  Seems my hiatus hadn't stopped the rumors and the tales about my expedition to Japan and what went down there. I could see it in their eyes behind the mirth. The respect, the fear, the sympathy, and the downright feeling sorry for me.

  Most of all there was awe that I'd come through the other side of such torture and remained intact. At least I think I did. They all knew what happened with me and the fat man, everyone did, and it gave me a newfound respect even though I'd kept away from almost every Hidden and had spoken to nobody about it apart from my family and Dancer.

  Madge gave a, "Hmm," then came to her decision. "Nice to see you, Spark. What do you want?" It was almost friendly. Almost.

  I made it to the counter, nodding at those I knew, not stopping to get into a conversation. Mithnite Soos was there, looking all kinds of sorry for himself. I'd have to have a chat with him, poor kid had been through the ringer lately from what I'd heard. He hardly even acknowledged me, and it was then I knew it was bad. Normally, he'd be in my face, keen to show off his magic skills and try to best me at raising demons or blasting cans of beans with the dark arts for practice.

  "You are a beauty in an apron, Madge. The world is a better place for your runny eggs and your friendly welcome. May I please have one of your lovely fry-ups and double-up on everything apart from black pudding."

  Madge gave me a half scowl, half sneer—she must have been practicing a new look as it was very good—then asked suspiciously, "What's wrong with the black pudding?"

  "Nothing," I protested, holding my hands up to proclaim my innocence. "It's just that there won't be room in my belly because I'm out of practice eating such a fine repast." I have to tell you, I was loving the banter. Madge's rudeness was as welcome as an ice-cream on a hot day, which this was. But I ignored the sweat, would suffer gladly in order to get my breakfast.

  "Fine. Don't you go eating next door," she warned as she shouted through to the back, giving my order.

  "Wouldn't dream of it. What's the deal, anyway?"

  "Stupid woman. She's a wikkan, apparently, whatever that means. Thought it would be a smartass idea to try to steal my customers. I'm a real witch, none of that mumbo-jumbo, and I told her it was a bad idea. Proper men eat sausage, not panny ninnies."

  "It's paninis, not panny..." I faltered under her glare and said, "You're right, panny ninnies it is. Why here, though? Seems a bit odd."

  "Cause the rent is cheap,"—like she pays rent—"that's why. And this is how people operate now, apparently. Try to poach your regulars. She's been here for months and probably had about a handful of
customers."

  "Oh, right. Poor thing. Um, I mean, stupid woman."

  "I knew you'd be back," said Madge, studying me far too closely for comfort. "It's not an addiction, Spark, it's what we are."

  "So I've heard already today. But I needed the break, anyway. I crossed the line, Madge, pushed too hard."

  "That's the sign of a good wizard. Here's your tea. Get your own milk." With that she was gone, disappearing into the back where I caught sight of the girl that had taken over from her kids a while back.

  It always makes me nervous when I have an even slightly personal conversation with Madge. Normally it's grunts and insults, but she was concerned for me beneath the veneer, and this was her way of showing it.

  I splashed milk into a mug that looked like it was less than a decade old—only a few chips—and ignored the random brown lumps in the sugar bowl, telling myself it was just bits of toast and not anything contagious, then added three sugars just for the hell of it.

  Carrying my tea over to an empty table, no need to worry about sloshing it—you could tip it upside down and it would take an hour to crawl out—I sat at a rickety chair, leaned back, put my hands behind my head and relaxed for the first time in a very long while.

  Half an hour later I was out the door, having waved away those that came to chat, saying I would look them up soon. As I made my way to the car, I thought better of it and turned right back around, popped my head back inside and said, "Mithnite, you grumpy sod, fancy a drive?"

  He looked up from where he was staring blankly at the dirty tablecloth, the slightest hint of shock on his face. "Me? Really?"

  "Don't see anyone else called Mithnite looking suicidal. Come on, hurry up."

  Two minutes later he was in the car, crying, and I was heading to see Dancer, not sure why I'd decided it was a good idea to take the damaged young man with me.

  As I drove, it dawned on me that I hadn't even paid. Damn, that was twice in a lifetime now. Madge really was a kindhearted woman underneath the moody witch act I was never sure was genuine or just part of what she felt made the place special.

  Honestly, people come from far and wide to be insulted by Madge. She's a true artist.

  Doing it Properly

  Dancer. Necromancer, friend—who would have thought it?—saver of my soul in Tokyo, and a man who had been a fraud for most of the time I'd known him, was now Head of the UK Hidden Council. With Rikka gone, all the old Head's assets had been stripped, sold off, and in a rather surprising turn of events the cash given to Dancer.

  Maybe they wanted to ensure he focused on the job, or maybe he insisted on it. Either way, he'd spent wisely, cleaned up the city, and had gained the respect of the numerous Hidden communities—most of them, anyway. The vampires are reluctant members and hate being told what to do, so no change there.

  A man I once believed to be maybe a few hundred years old turned out to be an ancient, nine-hundred-year-old Romanian Gypsy and had been lying low in the UK while some business that went awry abroad got forgotten in the passage of time.

  He wasn't lying low now. He was very rich, very much in charge, and extremely good at his job. We'd kept in touch, spoken regularly, but I hadn't seen him much in the intervening years. I'd heard all about how he was getting on, both from him, Kate, Grandma, and a few others, and he'd taken to it like a faery to antipasto.

  Getting to know him, the real him, in Japan, had been an eye-opener. I'd always known there was something a little off about him, believing just that he was a bit of a dick, and although he still was, he was also a genuine guy, even if he had me fooled about his true identity for so long. Now he required my services, and I was happy to oblige. In fact, I couldn't wait to oblige.

  The thought of magic sent my nerves tingling and as I drove through the early morning commuter traffic of Cardiff—watching people already walking listlessly, no doubt complaining about the heat even though they'd moaned about the cold for most of the year—I almost reached for the Empty and let it inside of me. But I resisted, knowing I should wait. I had no doubt it would come when I called, and like anticipating a meeting with a secret lover, I let the tension and excitement build until I was about ready to explode by the time I got to Council HQ.

  I'd never been to the new place. Rikka had set up in a gym, Dancer did things a little more conservatively, more in line with what you'd expect a Hidden Council for supernatural beings and humans adept with magic to use as their place for business. I was impressed.

  Dancer was a cautious man, always had been, and that hadn't changed. He'd set up the Council HQ behind a base of strong magic, a doorway that only those adept with magic could ever hope to enter. It kept our business safe from Regulars, meant he could have the wards and protective spells changed by a few resident wizards at a moment's notice, and allowed him to have some fun at the same time.

  I parked up on a side street once I found a space, then followed the directions I'd been given when he first got the portal activated.

  What to do with Mithnite? The poor kid was a mess, smelled bad, clearly hadn't been doing well, and it was hardly surprising. I'd heard all about what went down, but hadn't paid it the attention that maybe I should have, assuming he had somebody to care for him, or that he'd be fine on his own. The truth couldn't have been more different.

  He was quiet, didn't say much, but I knew I'd get it out of him when he was good and ready. For now, he just needed a buddy, to know somebody cared.

  Mind made up, I said, "Look, I have a job. I'm back in the game and Dancer, he wants me to do something for the dwarves."

  "Cool, and I can come? I can help you out. This will be great."

  "Whoa there, cowboy, let's not get carried away." Poor kid looked so excited I had to change my plans instantly, and maybe it would do him good, get a taste of the reality of this game. Maybe it would make him choose a different career path, one that didn't involve the constant threat of violence.

  I could see it in him, see that he wanted to be an enforcer, and boy was he in for a rude awakening if he ever went down that path. So, rather than make him wait in the car, I said, "Come on, but do as you're told, and keep quiet. This is serious, okay?"

  "Okay. Thanks, Spark."

  A minute later and we were standing outside the tiny door of a small terraced house. My heart stuttered as I opened myself up to the Empty and let just a slender touch of magic caress my ink, swelling it gently, languidly, feeling me out, checking I was open to its embrace.

  I was more than willing. I was desperate for it. As power surged through my body and my chakras sighed with contentment, the magic I contained unlocked the door and with a step over a shimmering threshold I entered another place entirely. Mithnite, doing as I directed, came in right behind me.

  "Awesome."

  "Quiet. You have to act like it's no big deal, like you do this kind of thing every day. Be cool, like a frost giant in your freezer."

  "Have you been peeking?" asked Mithnite, looking freaked.

  "What!? No. You haven't, have you?"

  "Haha, got you, Spark."

  "Oh, right. Good one." Damn, but he was reminding me more of myself by the minute. Meaning, he was gonna be trouble.

  We stepped out the way as a troll came marching toward us then out the portal without even pausing. I'm not sure how this kind of magic works, nobody is. It goes beyond time and space and the physical world as we know it. I guess you could call it another dimension or something else that doesn't really do it justice and is simply us trying to explain away the unexplainable.

  The few deft wizards able to create such transport routes study the magic their whole lives yet never find an answer to how, or where, or even why it works, just know that it can be done. So I stepped out of one world and into another, confident I'd still be me and not just goop. The best I've had it described to me is that we were still in Wales, right where we'd been, but in a place designed and constructed in the gaps between the many realities.

  A static locat
ion yet not actually where you think it is. And this is one of the many reasons why I can't stand to think about this stuff. Why everyone doesn't just admit it's magic and we don't know how it works is beyond me, but there you go, that's humans for you. And wizards are the worst for trying to decipher their work when they should just go back to their pipes and lamenting the old days when you could wear robes and have a long beard and not be accused of being a hippy, or worse, a hipster.

  Anyway, wherever we were, it was in a large lobby the other side of what was now an impressive, double door entrance, the wood carved to within an inch of its life. Runes and glyphs and all that good stuff very much in evidence. I was tempted to take a peek outside but was told that wouldn't be a good idea. Never open the door, just step up to it and pray magic is still a thing.

  Wizards rushed past, in and out of rooms, up and down a wide, sweeping staircase, gleaming balustrade looking perfect for taking a ride down from the top. A number of trolls stood outside closed doors, doing what they did best, which was looking like trolls.

  A couple of gremlins were busy arguing over a piece of paper they kept snatching from each other, talking in a language impossible to understand, and there were more shifters than I'd expected, shimmery glimpses of their animal nature overlaying their human form for a split-second, which was a new experience for me.

  I caught sight of a retreating rear, two bowling balls wrapped in tight black denim, bringing back memories of a dead friend. I had to remind myself it wasn't Plum, but her cousin, Persimmon, just as beautiful and just as tough. Too soon, she was lost to sight—she didn't even know I was here.

  Time for business. We went upstairs, where Dancer had his office, and I knocked. Talk about weird, knocking and waiting for a friend who was now my boss to call out, "Enter."

  Nothing happened, and I stood there like a fool, tapping my foot impatiently while Mithnite just gazed about and failed to look like anything but a homeless wizard who hadn't completed his apprenticeship.