New Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 3) (7 page)

Where the hell was Rikka? I fished out my phone, deciding to call him. I had expected to hear from him, or for him to turn up. Maybe he had found Paul and there was an explanation for all this, although I couldn't think what on earth it could be.

The crunch of gravel interrupted me as a car approached.

Rikka, I assumed.

You know when you need a pee right when it's least convenient? I had one of those moments. Everyone does it, right? But I always find that in books nobody ever needs to go to the loo, or eats or sleeps. Don't know how those guys do it. Well, I'm telling you this tale and I'm telling you I needed a pee. So I ducked back inside and used the bathroom.

Thankfully, it was devoid of squashy heads or goopy bits. Just me, sighing and then washing my hands like a good boy, even though men only wash their hands in bathrooms if there are other guys in there too—it's an unwritten rule.

Bladder doing the happy-no-more-wee dance, I went back to the entrance, expecting, or hoping, to see Rikka, Dancer, Paul the zombie leader, and a load of gnashing undead following close behind.

I was wrong.

As I stepped out into the rain, fizzing as usual, the vehicle that pulled up was like one of those crazy monster trucks you see on TV that drive over other vehicles, making them look like toys.

The wheels were huge, but the cab was larger. It was like an army vehicle on steroids, painted camouflage green and belching out smoke from the rear like an old wizard who'd gone more than an hour without his pipe.

A very, and I mean very, large troll jumped out and took off its shades. Like we wear sunglasses in Wales! Come to think of it, how the hell did it find any large enough? The same for the accountant. They must have been inventing and making all kinds of things since they suddenly got brains.

He wore a leather bomber jacket,
à la
Tom Cruise from Top Gun, and I swear he turned his head to give me a better angle of his chiseled jawline. Yes, actually chiseled.

"I'm going to crush your head," came a voice like gravel in a blender.

I was glad I'd had a pee.

Please Don't

The troll stormed across the circular drive like a collection of boulders piled up until it represented the last thing you wanted marching toward you threatening to scrunch your head until brains squeezed out your ears and your eyeballs popped. Um, not that you'd want anything to do that.

I adjusted my position to one that allowed me to run, meaning I ran the hell out of there as fast as I could.

Phone still in hand, I hit speed dial, and when Rikka replied with a grunt I screamed, "Where the hell are you?"

"Where are you?"

"Me? I'm at zombie HQ and they are all either dead or missing."

"What are you blathering about, Spark? Of course they're dead, they're zombies." Sometimes Rikka really annoys me.

"No, I mean, dead, dead. As in a troll squished their heads. That kind of dead. And there's one here now, wearing an aviator jacket and sunglasses, and he wants to do the same to me. Have you spoken to Paul?"

"No, we were just coming up to see how you were doing. Can't get hold of him."

"Hurry. These trolls are making me wish I'd stayed home, Rikka."

"Hang on, be there soon."

I hung up. And did some more running.

Fighting trolls is dangerous, mainly because you absolutely, under no circumstances, can kill them. They are immortal, feel no real pain, can be broken down only to put themselves back together again, and you can't even suck the magic out of them as they are too pure a creature.

As I dashed around the side of the building, all of this and more went through my mind, but then I stopped in my tracks. A flash of inspiration came and I turned, unhappy to note that the troll was now walking rather leisurely but had still almost caught up with me. Damn their long, lumpy legs.

"What seems to be the problem?" I asked, hoping it didn't realize I was drawing magic to myself as fast as I possibly could. I tried not to look at my arms as the tattoos bulged and screamed at my skin, eager to channel magic out at the strange looking troll in a burst of destruction that would leave it as uneven spare rock for repairs to the building made of the same material.

I knew it was pointless. I felt the blackness of my eyes, the stabs of silver sparks that pinged away from my head like spiky horizontal rain.

"This is our place now. You and your kind don't deserve it. I saw what you let happen here. What the zombies did to each other. We dealt with them, put the poor creatures down like they deserved. Call yourself a Hidden? Pah! You are nothing but the dirt beneath my feet."

"No fair. I had nothing to do with how they look after themselves, but this is what they wanted. They chose to exist, and this is how it has to be. We can't have them loose, eating other humans. It would be the end of the world."

"Not for us it wouldn't."

A terrible feeling gripped me and it wasn't the sickness that comes with summoning magic. That was still minimal and it felt odd to not be dreading the comedown. Whatever had turned the trolls smart hadn't made them all nice and inclined to care about humanity. In fact, it seemed the opposite was true in some cases.

"What have you done? What did you do to the rest of the zombies?"

"Don't worry," he said with a wave of a massive hand that almost slammed into me—I would have been dead in an instant. "We haven't let them loose on you all, not that I would have a problem with that." The troll poked around in an oversized pocket and seemed to lose focus for a minute.

"I found one in the city center, and that isn't exactly a help. They need to be contained."

"Like animals," grunted the troll. "No like being animal. Must have respect."

Something was very wrong here. The dude had gone from articulate, if somewhat disagreeable troll, back to being how they usually were in a heartbeat. I decided now would be the best time to get information. "Why are you doing this, then? Where are the zombies?"

"Me not know about that. But trolls need base. Large house. This nice." He, and I say he as he was dressed like Tom Cruise but much, much larger, pulled his hand from his pocket and held up what reminded me of a gray lump of ice. It looked cold, but something swirled inside it, semi-transparent and brimming with magic so strong it made me feel sick like I always used to. It sparkled, and dust fell off it like it wanted to get free. I noticed the bulge in the pocket—there were more. The troll opened its mouth wide, revealing blunt, gray teeth. It swallowed the ball.

It's eyes rolled back in its head like two soccer balls and I swear I heard them rattle. Its whole body shuddered like we'd been hit by an earthquake and then with a shake of the head it focused on me, eyes burning bright, strong intelligence there without doubt.

"Are you still here? Out of my way, human. I have things to do."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me where the rest of the zombies are."

The troll stormed toward me, its goal clear—destroy me. Instinct took over, and I let magic settle into every cell of my body and swim through my connected ink in a flash, until it built and had to find release.

I stepped back and shielded my eyes with my left arm as I thrust out my right and hit it with a blast of magic that came away from me in thick lumps like tennis balls from one of those training machines. I have to say, it hurt a little.

The balls of magic slammed into the troll's body in a storm of black hail I knew would have little effect, and I was right. He batted at the balls, alive and burning as cold as a Yeti's toes, but they were a distraction at least. It allowed me to take a few steps back and gather myself for the next attack.

Knowing my life would be over if it got close enough to get even a finger on me, I clapped my hands together and sent a spike of black magic as thin as possible right at a spot where I knew it would do damage. At the pocketful of smart pills, or whatever they were. The material melted in an instant, the balls clattering to the floor then rolling along the ground like oversized magic marbles.

The troll panicked, stiff fingers fumbling for them, ignoring me. I clapped again, this time aiming for the back of its neck as it picked up its medicine. I scored a lucky hit. A shard of its neck chipped off, pinging against the wall. It put a hand up in shock, then stood, angry and deadly. Again, I aimed for a lighter spot on its body where I could see the rock was different, a layer of something softer. A weak point.

As the magic shot into its body, a hole appeared and the shale crumbled to dust, revealing a hard inner core beneath where its heart would be if it had one. I shouted out magic from my mouth, a thick stream of silver and black that joined with the flow from my hand and all aimed at the same spot.

The troll actually got pushed back as I gave it all I could, but it was a delaying tactic more than anything else, not a way to beat it permanently. The hole got deeper, blacker, but already the pieces of its body were moving back, drawn to it like dwarves to hammers. Soon it was whole again, more annoyed than ever.

The balls of whatever it had taken were still mostly on the ground. I lunged for one, grabbed it, then ran again, to get time to breathe. As the magic use came with its calling card, spikes of pain clawed from my hands now stained dark from magic and jabbed at my insides. It was nothing like usual, but enough to make me feel like I'd truly come home.

This was what I did, this was what it meant to feel alive. Pain and adrenaline. The battle, the fight for survival, using the most primitive weapon in the Universe. Magic itself.

Which is why I was a little deflated when I felt the troll pick me up by the scruff of the neck with two fingers and lift me off the ground.

This was not good.

Ouch!

I felt like a kid on one of those swing rides at the funfair when you whiz around sideways, legs dangling. Except there aren't very big, and very hard walls that you slam into at funfairs, which is what I did.

I hit the wall side on, pain flaring up my shoulder as I slid to the ground. The troll reached down for me, hand open ready to grab my head. If that happened it was all over. I'd be a stain on the grass, not even a meal for the zombies as they all seemed to have gone.

Getting my act together, I pictured my body shimmering dark blue as if I emanated dangerous light, but this was no attack, this was a defensive move.

As the troll grabbed for my head, its hand stopped millimeters away. I swear I could feel its fingertips tickling my hair, and hear the crunch of the stiff joints as the fingers scrabbled for purchase.

Ignoring the pain, relieved at least nothing was broken, I got to my feet slowly, focusing on the protective aura around my body, expanding it as I moved away from the creature intent on ruining my day. Out of breath and definitely in need of more exercise, I leaned against the wall to get some air. It was a stupid move. The troll charged, massive fist swinging for me at surprising speed.

On reflex, I dodged to my right as the fist slammed into the ancient stonework and pulverized it to dust. I weaved behind the creature, drawing as much magic as I could cope with into my body, releasing it with a guttural cry like I was pushing against the building itself.

Wave after wave of dark magic pummeled into the back of the troll, searching for weakness, shards chipping off its body as I drew in more magic and discharged it relentlessly. It edged sideways as it fought to pull its hand from the broken stone, revealing a large hole and a peek into the interior of the building.

Working with what I had been given, I focused on the crack lines in the mortar that now ran up the building, spreading out from where the damage had already been done. My hands moved up above my head, shirt feeling tight across my back, another one amongst many that would be ruined, as I altered the flow of magic, sending it in flat splashes that hit the wall like spiky, sparkling pancakes before they rippled out sending shock waves across the facade.

Again, and again, I blasted with energy that dwindled by the second, but it was no use. The troll freed its hand and turned, arms in a wide bear hug that would crush me to goop.

There were two choices. I could either blast the wall, or protect myself. Either way, timing was crucial. I stuck with what I was doing and breathed deep before giving the wall everything I had, shooting higher and higher with black sparks of jagged magic that slammed into perfectly cut stone and made the whole wall shudder then wobble as larger and larger chunks rained down onto the grass.

Once more, a fat plate of magic slammed up high. The sound of the force boomed across the open fields, echoing back as the edifice teetered then toppled, tons of stone crashing down, more following as I ran away across the unkempt lawn. I watched as the troll got knocked to its knees, arms up to protect itself as stone kept on hammering down. Then the entire side of the building collapsed, dragging part of the roof with it. Massive chimneys that served fireplaces in numerous rooms toppled like when you see those controlled explosions on the TV.

This was out of control though, and as more building collapsed so yet more followed, the structure too weak to support what was above.

Stone, roof, trusses, joists, tiles, and a mess of plumbing and electrical cables plus a few pictures that hung on the interior walls crashed down in a massive, chaotic pile that buried the troll and just kept on coming.

Then it was over, just small shards of stone and tile joining the pile as the building found new equilibrium. Dust billowed out from the mountainous heap. Rubble shifted as the troll tried, and failed, to make its escape and continue the fight.

Bent over, finding it hard to breathe, clothes covered in dust and getting into my lungs, shoulder burning and chest even worse, I coughed and spluttered as I let the magic seep away with gratitude.

Pain came for me then, real pain. The pain and the hurt I have encountered so many times in my life. When nothing else matters, when all that exists is your own body and what it is doing to you. Thoughts hurt, movement was excruciating. Retching and screaming was my world.