Hidden Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 6) (16 page)

The floor shifted, toppling many already rather unsteady on their feet, as the fireball splatted against the ceiling then spread out in all directions. In a flash, the bar erupted into an inferno as the alcohol was engulfed by flame and the place basically exploded.

The heat was almost overwhelming, searing my lungs as I took shallow breaths while the room filled with smoke, bringing tears to my eyes as the roar of the flames and the coughs and moans of human and Hidden alike pierced the air.

My head was scalding and I felt the top of my hair singe, a foul smell that at least reminded me to crouch down low away from the raging inferno above. I caught a glimpse of Dragon, arms still wide, face rapt, as were his disciples, each and every one of them protected by a dome of magic that Dragon wrapped around them.

I called up the same for myself, allowing a swirl of ink on my chest to emanate out and wrap me in a shield of safety as others in the room took up the call and did likewise. But many had no such power, so true Hidden retreated to their own realms, but many human Hidden screamed and wailed as their clothes burned and their eyes sizzled then popped. Regulars were the first to go, engulfed and taken mercifully fast the heat was so intense.

I staggered away, blind by smoke and tears, but forced my eyes to see through magic only, the scene clearing. I wish I hadn't bothered. People were writhing on the floor, batting at their clothes or their naked flesh, tearing away scraps of material that had melted into their skin.

And there was Brewster Bunker, immobile behind the bar, unconcerned for his own wellbeing—rock doesn't really burn well.

And then the flames were doused, a young man beside me chanting for all he was worth, new to being a recognized wizard after a long apprenticeship. A specialist in all things liquid. He called forth the clouds, sucked them down through the tiny gaps in the building until they coalesced beneath the raging ceiling and split apart with welcome rain. Everything was soaked in an instant, the flames quenched, the ash making mush beneath our feet.

Dragon lowered his arms and his shield of protection and stared around in satisfaction. "Let this be a lesson. Magic, my magic, for I am the bringer of light to all who would otherwise still be clawing in the darkness, is to rise humanity up. It is not a plaything, no toy to be dabbled with." He spat his words, his followers awed. "It is to take us to the next plane of existence. I have seen such wonders, and will not let you wallow in this pitiful excuse of an existence. No more."

He lifted a hand and pointed at the wizard that had stopped the fire. "You dare defy the actions of your one true savior?"

It was then that I knew he'd completely gone over the edge of insanity and was lost forever. He had a God complex. I'd heard of it happening before, since having the power of magic can easily turn you into something crazed. Hungry for more and more, or believing yourself to be some kind of Hand of God. Dragon was lost to such dreams. Worse, he actually believed it.

A thin shard of death shot from Dragon's index finger, turning barbed as it hit the young wizard. It wrapped itself around the man's body, red and vicious, contracting like a magical noose, entering his flesh and growing tighter and tighter. It ripped through him, slicing him into sections like a neat orange. Blood splashed my suit, limbs dropped, and his head was sliced clean off, landing on the mess of ash, water, and glass with a dull thud.

"You bastard," shouted the wolf shifter, naked and in his animal form in an angry heartbeat. It lunged for Dragon's throat but he sidestepped, and as I watched through tainted vision time slowed and I saw that the rumors about Dragon were true.

His incisors snapped down hard and large, milky poison dripping as blood lust took over the deranged sage and he tore at the throat of the wolf, just enough to taint it, not to kill it.

The man landed on the floor, shards of glass stuck to his flesh, back in human form. He clutched at his throat as blood bubbled. Without thinking, I ran to him to help, knowing in my heart it was far too late to stop the inevitable.

Already the vampire poison was in his veins; there was no turning back now. Soon it would take him over completely and he would be crazed, craving the first taste of another's blood that would dictate his future and leave him unable to stop the need for blood no matter how hard he tried.

As I put a hand to his neck and looked into his eyes, I could see he understood, could feel the venom coursing through his veins. The only thing I could think of was that at least Dragon hadn't turned him zombie, but with both options there was always a choice. Accept or die, and I saw that he'd made his decision.

"Kill me," he gurgled, and I nodded, put my hand to his chest and with a jolt of high voltage magic his heart stopped. His body spasmed, legs kicking out, and he soiled himself then was still.

Anger boiling over, I stood and turned to Dragon. "You're a monster. You're corrupt. You don't know who or what you are any longer."

"I know exactly who I am. I'm here to clean up the world, starting with right here. Nobody defies me. I made the shifters, all of them, from my magic, and I will be obeyed." His voice was getting ridiculously loud, spittle flying from the corner of his mouth as his anger and contempt grew out of control.

Many took the opportunity to make a hasty exit, coughing, clothes ripped or burned away, others with serious problems that would need medical attention, until only the dead, the dying, one troll, way too many sycophants, and one mad magical usurper remained. Oh, and me. More's the pity.

"Do not think to try to stop me, Spark. I know you, I know your weaknesses."

"Yeah? How about we go somewhere quiet and chat about that?"

"You're not funny, or clever. Or funny. Oh, did I say that already?" Dragon smiled, looking harmless as he relaxed, just a rather well-kept old man with long gray hair, rather wrinkly, but slender of body, and apart from the archaic dress sense, someone you wouldn't look at twice.

"I've got better lines, just don't want to waste them on a freak like you."

The acolytes mumbled and readied to fight me, but Dragon stilled them with a look. "Let us go forth and spread the word that the Dragon has returned. Tell of my resurrection and my call for all to join me in the paradise on earth we shall create. We will destroy those that befoul the Empty, those that are not true Hidden, not born before man himself, immortal and truly pure. We shall devour the unbelievers, give new life to the dying or the diseased. They shall become zombie, and we will turn all to vampire, so they can live forever and pathetic Regulars will be our food. This is the true answer to immortality, Spark."

"That's farming," I said, wondering just how far his mad imaginings went.

"Forget these pathetic vampires that play their petty games, they will be dealt with soon enough. I am King Dragon, come to steer them into their future. They shall know the sun and those that do not perish will be worthy. Those that sleep away the centuries must die. They do not deserve my gift. But the world, my people, they will become vampire."

Dragon is a rather dramatic fellow in case you haven't noticed, but one thing I was certain of—he had the power and the following to carry out his promise and the world would eat itself within a generation. All this time, all the power he had as a sage, an immortal, and the best he could come up with was to turn everyone that wanted magic in them to vampire?

What a loser!

"No, absolutely not." I said.

"Just try to stop me." Dragon did the vampire shimmer shuffle, but even with my Hidden vision and more magic inside me than ever before, he moved too fast to follow. In a heartbeat it was over, and his followers stood, agony taking them over, each one with a single bite mark at their neck, blood pouring then easing as the puncture wounds closed while I watched.

Dragon was practically bursting with blood magic. These were powerful Hidden in their own right, and their blood was potent in the extreme. As if he didn't already have enough magic, now he was ready to explode with the stuff.

Twenty pairs of eyes darkened and twenty sets of incisors grew thick, strong, and sharp as their grins widened even as they went through the terrible metamorphosis, only coping so well with the pain as they had all spent so many years paying their dues to the Empty for their magical thievery.

"Go, go now. Make this city mine."

Before I could do a thing they were gone. I heard the door swinging closed behind them, the creaking hinges ringing out the death knell of the city. That was no normal turning, his power meant that what could often take days was accomplished in a second—bad, very bad.

"I like you, Spark. I've been watching you, from my dreams beneath the earth. You have strength, real power, a bright future if you step into line."

"I answer to no one. Not now, not ever."

"There are ways to force you. In case you haven't noticed I am a rather potent man."

The air stank. Of fear, of ash, of fire and of booze, most of all of my own sweat. But I stood tall, adjusted my tie, put my hands through my hair and tried to ease out the singed bits, taking my time as though there was no rush. "Try it. I'll tear you limb from limb or go out trying. You won't get away with this, we won't let you."

"By the morning all shall know I am back, reborn as Justice, and Death to those that abuse the Empty. Your world is over, mine has just begun."

He was gone, the Hidden Club quiet, just a few moans of the dying, then nothing as they passed.

"Gimme a whiskey, Brewster. Please." Brewster was still unmoving behind the bar. Even he knew better than to try to mess with Dragon, and trolls are immortal.

"You want ice?"

"No, neat. Leave the bottle."

I knew this was just the beginning. I was right.

Hell came to Cardiff that night. It came to us all. It spread like a virulent cancer and by early morning the entire city was decimated.

Slaughterhouse Magic

After I'd gulped my whiskey, and another, and had to really hold myself back from just pouring the bottle of fiery liquid down my throat, I called Dancer and told him exactly what had occurred, and what I expected to happen next. He said he'd warn everyone he could and get word to the local Heads.

I suggested he should contact anyone and everyone, as well as the Worldwide Council. This was bigger than us, bigger than we could cope with, but he wondered if that was the best way to deal with things. He convinced me it would be better to hold back on letting anyone outside Cardiff know, just for now—if we had all manner of people coming from far and wide it would bring with it not only those out to help, but the believers, the fanatics, the followers of Dragon who would do as he bid, no questions asked.

I wasn't sure I agreed but it was his call, and the more I thought about it after I hung up, the more I believed he might be right. Look what had happened with just a handful of his wyrmlings turning up. If there were thousands of them then the viruses he intended to unleash would spread all the faster. So, for now, maybe the best thing was to hunt down those that had been in the club and would already be wreaking havoc across the city.

It was far, far too late for that.

The moment I stepped outside, I knew the excrement had already hit the spinning blades. The air was buzzing with the sound of ambulances, fire engines, police sirens, and the wails of human beings. The only things saving the city from utter carnage were the late hour and the fact that most clubs had shut hours ago.

That wasn't true of Carmichael's, who always ran two-for-one on drinks on student night, this night, meaning Cardiff University would be down a serious number of students this coming morning.

I followed the screams, the moans, and the shouts, and outside the club were corpses, others already getting to their feet, staggering about, zombies now, or vampires. It would take some time for them to fully turn, if they all did. For Regulars, it is slow, often tortuous, and never guaranteed to take, death a distinct possibility—they'd never know how lucky they were if that was the result.

Wyrmlings were manic. Cackling, jumping about with utter abandon. Lost to the blood magic, feeding indiscriminately, attacking anyone they came across, biting and infecting the students with vampire venom. Hell, what were we going to do?

There was only one thing for it before this got utterly out of control. I sank deep and fast into mighty magic mode, letting the Empty consume me, forcing my inherited power up and through my perfectly aligned ink so it channeled magic as effectively as possible.

I immersed myself in the elements, shrouded so I was beyond the everyman now, all but invisible. Nobody would remember me, what I looked like, that I was ever even there. Nothing.

The CCTV would never pick me up, although I doubted very much it was running now anyway—strong magical disruptions are usually enough to make it flickery and never record the actions of the truly magical. It's why Cardiff spends an absolute fortune on technical repairs, all the technology is forever faulty around these here parts.

Angry as a goblin after being told green doesn't suit it, I went ballistic on the wyrmlings, sweeping through the city like a thing possessed, hunting them down and killing them. Stomping them, smashing them, burning them from the insides out then blasting each and every one of them until they were nothing but dark smears on the ground.

It had to be done, much as it sickened me, for they could never be found. Their bodies were too dangerous, too full of terrible corruption, to risk them being picked up by the authorities and their secrets revealed.

I was hitman and cleaner all wrapped up into one terrible, vengeful parcel, and as the city burned and many people found themselves infected or worse, the city slowly awoke to the horror.

It was an insane few hours as vampires, ordered by Oskari, came to help, tearing through the streets in their thousands, moving like lightning, hunting down every hint of vampire and, I'm sorry to say, killing just about every one of them.