Neon Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 5) (12 page)

And me, tied there, unable to use magic, just a Regular human being, watching with sick incredulity that it was even possible as my body was laid out bare. The flayed man, two of me now. One screaming, crying, amazed so much pain was even possible, the other me silent, flat, arranged neatly on the table. Getting bigger.

This was why the table was so long, why it was so out of proportion, it was to contain all of me, piece after carefully stripped piece, cleaned with a loving hand. Would he sew it all together, make a suit of me? Would I be dead long before that happened? I hoped so.

That was all I wanted through the endless hours. To be dead, gone. I should have let the Council carry out their sentence. That way I would never have even existed, and none of this would have happened. Nothing ever would have.

Utter, final exhaustion came to me at some point and I couldn't remain awake no matter the pain, the slaps, the angry shouts and the threats. What could he threaten me with? There was nothing left to fear, this was as terrifying as it could possibly get. And even that waned as acceptance sank in. My mind was unable to cope with the horror, refused the fat man's orders. It simply shut down to try to escape the surreal ignominy, go somewhere black and empty.

Oblivion.

Maybe I slept for an hour, maybe it was for a day. Time was lost to me when I finally came to, hurting like I had never hurt in my life, yet still clinging to a desperate hope it had all been a dream.

No such luck.

There was no fat man, just me, and the other me, now almost two legs worth of skin displayed like the most terrible of shrouds. He'd been busy, forging ahead while I was unconscious.

Then she entered the room.

Kimiko Cocchi.

Things got a whole lot worse after that.

*

I was a boy when I met Kimiko, yet even then she was already unbelievably old. It was during the First World War when everything was in chaos and we all thought the insanity had reached a crescendo. It hadn't. The war raged, my parents were killed, and I lost the plot.

I was Trouble—yeah, capital T.

As the madness around the world escalated, so did my own form of war. I raged against the world, against Grandma, against whoever killed my mother and father, and I raged against them for leaving me alone as a fourteen-year-old one year after the war started. Nobody imagined it would ever be repeated, certainly not on a grander scale just over two decades later, but it goes to show just how insane human beings are.

At the time, I was too caught up in my own misery to think much about anything apart from myself, and I've long ago forgiven that boy for his actions and the way he behaved—I was a grieving child.

Luckily, I had Rikka and Grandma, and he took me under his wing and taught me all about magic. I also met Kimiko Cocchi. I don't even recall exactly how, probably something to do with tagging along with Rikka while he went about his business, climbing the Hidden ladder, heading straight to the top. We were close, him and I, and I guess I saw him as a replacement for my father. Actually, I know I did, I always have.

All I remember about her is that I was awed by her beauty. I hadn't met many vampires then, and was new to their ways and the aura they have about them. She was like something from another world. Slender, clearly powerful of body and spirit, beautiful beyond belief, and utterly terrifying. She smiled at me, hardly taking notice, and I felt strange things happen in my belly. I never knew until then that such exquisite and mesmerizing women existed.

She was right out of a young boy's fantasies. Foreign and mysterious, wearing strange clothes—a silk kimono with a red sash around her narrow waist—chest high and prominent, the stuff of dreams. Her voice was as soft as her kimono, like a lullaby, and every movement she made was a snapshot of perfection.

I neither remember where we were nor what was said, just that the conversation was brief and guarded, thinking nothing of it apart from how exotic she was and that it was very dangerous to ever be in the presence of a vampire. But Rikka dealt with all manner of Hidden—just part of the world we were in.

I never saw her again, but I heard the tales. Heard how she rose to prominence, but that was her world, not mine. My world was Grandma, Rikka, and my quest for mastery of the Empty.

Look where that had got me.

I stared up at the beautiful face of this woman, who knew how old—nobody did—like the intervening years since we last met had been nothing but a dream, her waiting for me to seek her out, yet discouragingly unconcerned by this foreign gnat, this child in comparison to her. A woman that ruled the hardest and most dangerous of men in her country, was an immortal vampire and a sorceress, controlled the Yakuza, politicians, businesses large and small.

And it was all my fault.

If I hadn't craved magic, my parents would never have been killed. I was to blame.

I held her gaze as she stared down at me coldly, no attempt to glamor me—what would be the point?

Something clicked inside of me, though. I wasn't to blame, I was a kid that wanted to unravel the secrets of the Universe. I didn't kill them, she and Rikka did.

Rikka had paid, and I'd be damned if I would let her get away with it.

The having no flesh on my legs thing was a bit of an issue, though.

Vampire Scorn

"So, this is the infamous Faz Pound. Why do they call you Black Spark?" Kimiko tilted her head to the side, glossy black hair sliding on her silk Kimono, bringing back memories of so long ago.

"Let me up and I'll show you."

"Haha, silly little boy. Did you really think you could come to my country and kill me?"

"I was willing to give it a go."

"Not doing very well, are you?" She studied my legs with dispassion, as if she'd seen it a thousand times before. Maybe she had, or maybe she'd seen it ten-thousand times over her long life. Kimiko turned to the table and inspected the flesh, smiling, pleased with the progress so far. "That will be such a prize when it's finished. You do know there's a long way to go yet, don't you?"

I swallowed, throat dry, and tried to keep my voice steady, knowing I'd sounded like I was already beaten. "I figured as much, but your fat man is getting a little tired. Maybe give him the year off, I won't mind."

"Oh, haha, you are such a funny man. You have caused me some inconvenience, Faz, and—"

"Don't call me that! You don't get the right to use my given name. Spark, you call me Spark."

"I will call you whatever I damn well please," Kimiko snapped, clear features distorted by anger at my interruption. "As I was saying,
Faz
, you have caused me some trouble since your arrival. Even before, with your killing of that terrible disappointment of a man, Rikka. We had an arrangement and you ruined it."

"Sorry to be such an inconvenience to your plans, but I have plans of my own." I relaxed my head against the board, neck hurting from craning against my bonds. I also realized I needed to pee real bad. Had I done it through the torture? Probably. I was back to full awareness now, though, the pain making it hard to focus but conscious enough to understand that warm urine on flayed skin would not be the nicest of experiences.

I clenched anything I could think of and tried to send the searing torment far away. This wasn't my hurt, it was abstract, not even really there. It totally didn't work. It seared, scalded, gnawed and tormented like all kinds of hell.

Kimiko waved away the problems I'd caused with a slender, perfectly manicured hand. The light glinted off her pearly nails, so perfect and smooth. I could smell her perfume even above the sour smells in the room, making my head swim, too out-of-place amid the stench of humiliation and the foul, fat man.

"It doesn't matter. A few dead Yakuza is of no importance. Although," she said with a frown, "you did cost me some considerable inconvenience, not to mention money when you ruined my counting house."

"It's still all there, just under the rubble."

"I'm afraid not. The fox got a little carried away after you left, tried to break his bonds, and the place burned down, along with several other properties."

"Oh, that's a shame. I liked him."

"You are an annoyance, but no more. I have plans for your flesh, Faz, truly wonderful plans. The books your boss gave me over the years have been a revelation. Such wondrous magic I can now harness, such amazing things I can do. And your skin will be a delight to use to increase my power."

"I ain't dead yet," I managed, before the room swam and everything went black.

It was becoming a habit, but the world had nothing I wanted to see any longer, so I embraced the darkness and swam through the nothingness, empty of everything, even caring. I came back to reality with my face stinging, but not half as much as my legs. Body doing what it wanted without permission, I was urinating, and in my understandably confused state I thought for a moment it must be hitting my face. Nope, that was Kimiko, it was the piss that was causing the real pain.

How to describe the pain? I don't think I can even begin. It's enough to say I was pissing down my flayed legs while a vicious vampire slapped me about the head so I'd know the shame. That about sums it up, really. Uric acid and muscle stripped bare—not a good mix.

"What?" I managed to croak as Kimiko slapped me again.

"Just wanted to say goodbye." She smiled the sweetest of smiles. I just stared at her blankly.

"Never." I don't know where it came from, that single word, but I knew I would never give in. Not like this. Not here, not naked in a stinking room. No way was I going out when it was just me and the fat man. And the knife.

"That's the spirit," she said, amused by my refusal to accept what was clearly inevitable. She barked something in Japanese, coming as a shock as her English was so flawless I'd forgotten for a moment what language we'd been speaking in.

The fat man came in, wiping his face, greasy smears across his lips and chin from whatever he'd been snacking on.

I hoped it hadn't been me.

She snapped out more orders, all business, no question who was in charge. He was meek and kept his head bowed, showing respect, never interrupting, just nodding, looking up when she said something, maybe asking him if he understood.

She kept pointing at me, at parts of me, possibly reminding him to be careful of certain areas of ink as he worked. It was as if I was just some kind of damn chair being stripped down, saving the precious covering for another purpose.

The obese skinner's breathing was heavy and loud, his sweat soaking him as he mumbled answers to his boss. She said a final few words to him then turned her attention back to me.

"Goodbye, Black Spark. We won't be seeing each other again."

"I'll haunt you for eternity. This isn't goodbye."

"Oh, haha. Ghosts don't scare me. Have you learned nothing? It is only the living that are truly terrifying." With that, she left.

She'd got that right. I was out of my mind with fear, and we weren't even halfway done yet.

Plans of Madmen

The fat man added wood to the fire, the heat now almost suffocating. But this was his territory, his ritual, so I said nothing. Haha, what could I say? It was the least of my worries, anyway.

I had to get out, but I couldn't. Whatever was done to the room, my magic was negated. Not a hint of it to be found, what little I always carried inside of me gone during the initial struggle to escape, leaving me with nothing.

How had it been done? Something from the damn books, I assumed, it had to be. Deep spells like this were beyond me, not part of my life, my way of being. The room was a prison, physically and magically, stripped as bare as my body. What I wouldn't give to feel the magic engorging my ink, channeling through me and making me come alive. What I wouldn't give to have it heal my body. What I wouldn't give to be free.

Would anyone come for me? Could they track me via my phone? No, that was gone. Would my friends and family come searching for me? Maybe, but where would they start? Who could save me?

The answer was clear. Nobody.

I was dead, or as good as.

Ah, that was it, I needed to be dead.

The fat man grimaced as we made eye contact, looking mean and keen to begin again. He wasn't happy. The talking down to from Kimiko had shamed him in my presence, and even though he thought nothing of me it was still a dent to his honor. He would take it out on me.

I steeled myself, ready for what I knew had to happen for my hazy, hardly even a plan, to stand even a remote chance of working.

How hard could it be? After all, I'd done it just a few days ago.

I closed my eyes, focused on slowing my manic heart rate. Willing it to quiet—slow, slower, slower still. With all my will, all my training and ability to concentrate, I forced my heart to silence. The beats spaced further and further apart, even as I felt the knife strip my flesh away. If I died then he would stop, wouldn't he? Or would he carry on, regardless? No, I had to be alive for the flesh he took to have meaning, it would be part of whatever gross magic Kimiko had in mind.

But if I passed over would I have the ability to come back? I began to doubt myself and with that doubt I lost all focus, all chance of ending it and maybe returning to my body once he'd removed my bonds, visions of him dragging my corpse from the room and me jumping back from beyond the grave vanishing for the foolish ideas of a madman that they were.

What else, what could I do? I was back to panicking now as I screamed while the skin was butchered from my shin. I felt the blade scrape against bone and knew I couldn't hold out much longer. I had to do something.

Utter, total panic took hold of me then. I'd been out of my mind with fear and adrenaline when this first began, but now I was lost to a deep insanity as I knew it was now or never. I would die, but for real, unable to cope with the pain and the loss of blood, my body already shutting down as it couldn't function under such extreme duress.