Evil Spark (15 page)

"I... I think so. Well, yeah. Stanley said I was. It's all a blur. None of it makes sense. Stanley found me, but I was almost dead. Three nights ago I was out with my mates in town and um, dunno, must have had a few too many. I lost them when I went to the machine to get money for a taxi. This freaky dude with a damn cloak and everything, he came up to me, asked me for the time, then nothing. The next thing I knew I was here and feeling like I was dying."

"But not from the booze, right?" This was Yrjo's doing, I was sure of it. None of the local vamps wander round in cloaks. It's a walking cliche—they'd be laughed at.

Govan nodded. "I was so sick, so ill and confused, and I had this terrible wound on my neck." He pulled his collar down and said, "See."

We craned forward but there was nothing but a faint red mark. That meant nothing though. He could have had a mouthful of flesh missing but if he survived the bite he was infected and a vampire, so would heal in no time.

"What then? Why did you kill the girl?"

"I told you," he whined. "Stanley said I could. He told me what I am. Said I had a choice. Either feed or not. I was weak, dying. It got worse. He said he saw things, said I would survive if I fed. He knows things, knows everything. I'm a vampire, he said. I didn't know I could be a vampire. I just want to go home, be with my friends."

"You live with them? Other cat shifters?"

Govan looked up at us, confused. "What? No, I live at home, with my mum. I'm only eighteen. I was going to college at the end of September. Can I still go, do you think?" he asked, hope returning for a moment.

"Dude, I'm not even sure if I'm going to let you live for the next five minutes," I said, trying to remain angry and look cruel, but I knew my ferocity was fading. I exchanged a glance with Plum. She was clearly feeling the same thing.

This was no crazed killer of young witches. No evil genius. This was a confused kid that had been glamored and turned into a vampire. He'd made a choice, sure, but he was just a kid.

"I can't believe Stanley has done this. I've known him for years. He's always been creepy, but this?"

"Guess being a seer just got too much for him in the end. A lot of them crack, you know that, Spark."

"Yeah, but it's usually right after they get the future opened up to them, not after years and years."

Plum looked tired. Clearly she needed her sleep and I was keeping her from her rest. It was time to get this over with. "Where's Grandma?" I asked.

"Oh, she's in the basement."

"Of course the sneaky sod has got a basement." I felt like a fool. I'd stood in the house with Kate, talking to Stanley, and didn't feel Grandma's presence at all. But then, I wasn't using magic to try to search her out. We were just visiting him to see if he could help.

"He did it, not me," whined Govan.

"How about we go get her?" I prompted.

"And can I go home then? My mum will be missing me. Stanley said I couldn't because of the vampire thing, that I had to stay with him now and he'd protect me. But I don't like it. I don't want to kill people. I want to see my mum and go to college."

"We'll see. But you made your choice I'm afraid. You chose this rather than death. First Grandma, then I need to call a friend." Kate could help. She could put the boy right about his new life and teach him the basics, if he decided he could cope with it. But he'd killed an innocent and helped take Grandma.

Emotions and anger fought, but a lot of the fire had gone, replaced with tiredness and a deep fatigue of the soul. Would it be best to put him out of his misery now? One less vampire running amok to worry about? No killing innocents if he was gone? Or could he be like Kate, only kill the guilty, lead a relatively regular life otherwise?

The chances of that happening were slim to non-existent. Kate is an exception to the rule. Most that become vampires turn dark pretty quickly, especially young kids that get caught up with the wrong kind of vampire crowd, which is almost inevitable at his age.

Plum looked up at me, questioning what to do. She was in two minds too, although I could tell she believed it would be best to kill the boy. But that's not how our world works. Who are we to judge? Hidden are Hidden. You can't just go around choosing for yourself who has a right to life. Not unless it's personal.

I could tell Plum and I came to the same conclusion at the same time.

"You want me to do it?" she asked.

"No, this is my mess. Thanks, Plum. I'll be fine from here. Go home, get some rest. I owe you one. Sorry to wake you and get you mixed up in all this."

"Spark, we're practically family. Heck, I see you more than most people I know. And I like you. Sometimes." She smiled. "Say hello to Grandma for me, and say goodbye to Stanley."

"Oh, I will, you can count on that. It's for the best, right?" I said, nodding at Govan.

"Stay there," Plum ordered Govan, before she pulled me by the arm out into the hall.

"Tell me it's for the best."

"Spark, I would love to let him leave. Go to college, all that stuff. But then I realized, and you too judging by your face." She got in close and whispered, "It's over for him. We both know it. The witches won't let this rest. Matilda's family, they are all witches and wizards. She was training with Grandma! They get him and it won't be good. You know the rules. If a Hidden messes with your own, worse, kills your own, then it's your right to deal punishment. Nobody will stop them, nobody can, and they would be justified in killing the boy. What would you have done if he'd killed Grandma? Or even now, if she's hurt?"

My anger rose at the thought. I ached to get her, but had to be prepared for dealing with the boy first. "I know. For a moment I thought maybe I could do some good for a change."

Plum put a hand to my arm and stared at me hard. "You can. Just do it right. It's for the best. Be seeing you."

"Bye, Plum. And thanks."

She turned and smiled at the door. I watched her walk down the path as the dawn broke.

God, that backside is amazing. Like two bowling balls dipped in honey then sprinkled with sugar. That's how I imagine it tasting if I ever get the chance to lick a cheek. I never will though. Plum is a panther shifter and sex would get very messy. For me.

And anyway, Kate and I were finally getting somewhere. It goes beyond lust with Kate, although I do want to lick her a lot, too.

I sighed, turned from the distraction Plum's perfect backside afforded me, and moved my thoughts back to finally getting Grandma.

And murder. I also had to kill a teenage boy before the witches got hold of him and made him suffer terribly for what he had done. It would be nasty if they got him; my way would be better.

Stanley had a lot to answer for, and answer for it he would.

Despite it all, I couldn't help smiling. I was going to see Grandma. She was alive.

Grandma!

"Okay, lead the way." I was all business. No sympathy, no smile, no show of weakness. It killed me to act like that but I couldn't risk Govan changing my mind. He wouldn't try to bolt—the poor kid was terrified—but I knew what I had to do.

"He said everything would be all right. I'm so scared. I'm a vampire, I can't believe it. Will they come for me? Stanley said they would. He said they'd come for me and make me live with them and do all kinds of depraved acts. But I don't want to die."

"What, depraved acts like killing young girls and locking up witches in basements? If you've hurt her..."

"I haven't. Honest. Stanley said not to touch her and I didn't want to anyway." Govan opened what I had assumed was an under stairs cupboard door then flicked a switch and pulled aside a rail of coats. There was a door, with a very serious lock on it.

I looked at him and he said, "I haven't got the key."

"It doesn't matter." My anticipation gave me all the energy I needed. I snapped to black as fast as the switch had turned the room to light. A tiny, unknowable portion of the Empty flowed into me through sheer power of will. I let it build in my right arm from the elbow down to my palm. I tickled, a hint of the payback to come if I pushed it too far, but this was a simple piece of magic. I would hardly be ill at all.

Putting my hand to the lock, I paused. If this was as simple as blasting the mechanism to liquid metal and kicking the door open then why hadn't Grandma done that? She could do so much more. She could do it in her sleep.

I must have looked scary as hell as I turned to Govan—it was probably the black and sparkling eyes, or maybe the ink, or maybe I am just mean looking when in the magic zone—as he took a step back, putting his hands to his head like I was about to melt his brain.

"Has she been unconscious this whole time? Why hasn't she escaped if she's just behind a simple door?"

"It wasn't my idea, honest. It was all Stanley."

My voice wavered as the magic built and I said, "What was?" I had a terrible feeling. Like she'd be chopped up into tiny pieces or something.

"No, nothing bad," squeaked Govan, shoulders hunching so far forward he was ready to collapse in on himself.

"What? Answer me, now."

"He gave her a potion. A potion of contentment, he called it."

"Oh, right. You better not be lying," I accused. He didn't look like he was.

Wasting no more time, I let the magic build again and put my hand to the door over the handle and lock. With a snort and an internal push, directing the tiny amount of dark magic needed, I pushed with my hand then moved it back quickly as the handle and a piece of the door melted and slid down the paintwork.

With a muddy winklepicker—I hadn't cleaned them since the gnomes, which showed what a state I was in—I kicked the door. It swung open, revealing stairs.

"After you," I said, and manhandled Govan down the stairs.

"Grandma? Grandma, are you here?" We moved to the bottom of the stairs and a familiar sound greeted me once my head was below the level of the ceiling.

We were in a spacious and well-lit basement with Stanley's eclectic taste in furniture and wild choice of colors very much in evidence—it looked like a living room. And there, sat on a brown leather sofa, staring at a blaring TV, was Grandma. She was smiling contentedly, watching Breakfast TV. Some segment about the rising popularity of raincoats for dogs. She doesn't even have a dog.

Govan forgotten, I walked over to her and put an arm to her shoulder. "Grandma?"

"Ooh, hello, Faz. Come to watch TV with me have you?" She patted the seat beside her and beamed up at me.

"Oh, Grandma, what has he done to you?"

Grandma stared at me with eyes more familiar than my own. She still wore her pinafore and house slippers, and looked entirely relaxed. She studied me, like she hadn't seen me for weeks. "What have you done to your hair!? Change it back right this instant."

"Grandma, don't you remember? You saw me last week, when I got into that spot of bother. Remember?"

She frowned in concentration, but a poodle with a red hat on caught her attention and she turned back to the TV.

"Grandma?" She put up a hand to hush me.

I turned to Govan, my anger overflowing like my sense of loss.

Sharp pain stabbed my eyes and I knew I was lost to a tidal wave of dark magic. I reached out my hands and watched as vengeance crackled at my fingertips then along the lines of my tattoos.

"I'm gonna kill you. You and Stanley. But you first," I hissed, unable to control myself.

There was a flash of movement. As I reached for the boy he was gone in a blur as something took him away from me and up the stairs. I heard a dull thud as the front door slammed shut behind them.

"Fucking vampires!" I screamed.

Grandma didn't even turn at my use of bad language. Normally she'd tell me I was grounded, never mind that I hadn't lived with her for almost a century.

With no way to release my anger, I did the next best thing. I was enveloped by the familiar pain of dark magic use, and sank onto the sofa while I fought the crippling hurt as the energy dissipated back into the Empty. My arm went around Grandma. Tears fell.

I don't know how long we sat there, but at some point I realized someone was calling my name and shaking me by the shoulder. Turning, I stared into eyes full of my own sadness. "Kate? What are you doing here?"

"I've been doing some investigating and then it hit me. The cat, Stanley doesn't have a cat. He lied, and I can see I was right. Is she okay?"

"She will be. I hope."

"Come on," she said, moving in front of us, blocking the TV. Grandma didn't even notice, just smiled happily at Kate. "Let's get you both home."

"Home? What's home now, Kate? Where were you? I thought I'd lost you too. Lost everything."

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Faz Pound. I had a few ideas and went to check them out, and I was right. Come on, up," she ordered.

We both stood. I'm not sure who was more in a daze, me or Grandma.

The Witches Get Busy

I sat, slumped forward on the scrubbed kitchen table at Grandma's with my head in my hands. She was back, but I was going from one nightmare to another.

A coven of witches scowled, muttered, shrieked, shouted, laughed, cried, patted me on the head, pinched my nose, blamed me, congratulated me, scolded me for losing Govan, slapped me on the back, busied themselves at the stove, went in and out of the garden for herbs, and generally brought to life my worst nightmare.

It had been bad in the car with everyone chattering away and giving me no peace, this was so much worse I couldn't think of a number large enough to times it by.

My anger overflowing, I was all for heading straight to the morgue and dealing with Stanley. Kate calmed me down, convinced me, and rightly so, that getting Grandma home, and back to being herself again, was the most important thing. Stanley could wait. We had to get Grandma safe first.

She could answer some questions, better help me to understand what was going on, and I was exhausted anyway.