Evil Spark (25 page)

Judging by the way a few dogs barked, it was obvious the potion to hide my scent had worn off. As I looked down, I saw that my body was now entirely visible too. I muttered a curse at the Chemist—no way was that an hour—and decided to go with it.

Yes, I could have run, but I could also have been chased down by dogs and numerous vampires, so being brazen and cool as a cucumber down a Yeti's pants felt like the better of all the bad choices I could have made.

I cleared my throat to announce myself without causing a mass feeding on my sweet tasting blood. Here went nothing.

They turned as one, red eyes gleaming in skeletal faces wrapped in paper-thin skin, yellow fangs snapping at the air. Some of them looked worse than the zombies on their reservation.

Taavi held up a hand and one of the scariest sounds I have ever heard drowned out the terror of the fire and the crashing of crumbling roofs.

It was the sound of so many teeth being licked.

"No killing. He is mine," said Taavi. I may have gulped.

I'd come to fight Yrjo, maybe a goon or two, and anyone else that got in my way, but this was going too far. Part of me wanted to say, "C'mon, seriously?" or something like that, but I stood there, acting hard. Okay, I may have done a little pee. Haha, no way. I'm Faz Pound, He Who Does not Pee, Holder in of the Wee of Terror, Abstainer of the Wetting of the Pants in Vampire Company, but I certainly felt a little damp under the arms.

At least the dogs had stopped barking. That was something, anyway. Shame the camouflage had worn off. I wished I'd had a double dose, or gone to Kate's and called it a night. Maybe ordered pizza, had a cuddle after a shower. Talked about cushions and should I buy a sprinkler system for my next house just in case I got overrun with Finnish vampire usurpers, that kind of thing. Just the usual pillow talk.

But no, I stood there, feeling sicker than a faery after eating seven plates of carbonara—I saw it once, it was a sight to behold.

"Damn. Hope you had insurance?" I said, looking round nervously at the amassed militia and the confused dogs, staring at me with bloodshot eyes and sniffing the air, confused by this half-person that had suddenly materialized, offering up a tantalizing scent.

The guards and more "regular" vampires than I was happy about—meaning any—closed in on me, but Taavi waved them away with a single hand movement. Sometimes I think they have a communal telepathy, can speak without words, converse via their connection to the blood magic. I'd have to ask Kate, assuming I didn't get my throat ripped out, of course.

You know, it's one thing being brave when faced with a few foes, whatever they may be, but I was having a hard time keeping the bravado when I was surrounded by more vampires than I have ever seen in my life. They kept on coming.

Taavi waved away those stood close to him, seemingly unconcerned for his own safety. He nodded at me, like he'd been expecting me—which freaked me out more than anything. Then it was just him and me, stood on the large gravel drive, staring at the massive building he had called his home for so long as more and more of it was razed to the ground. The heat became intense, the building in full flame. Nothing would remain. It would all be gone.

Looking at it logically, this was a very bad thing. It's always been better to have so many vamps living under one roof. They like the communal life and that suits the rest of us. We know where they are, and Taavi keeps his House well run. Now what? Would they be bunking up with friends?—yeah, right! Would they be renting apartments or houses, spreading out across the city and beyond with no way to keep them under control?

And what about the dogs? It didn't bear thinking about. If even a single vampire Doberman got loose it would be utter carnage on the streets of Cardiff.

"So much history," said Taavi, accent strong, full of nostalgia. "I had items in there that pre-dated Christ. Books and artifacts, talismans and memories, all gone. And my people. Some have perished, and that is the worst crime of all. This is unforgivable. He will pay, and it will take centuries for him to die. Every second of every minute will be nothing but pain for him. He deserves nothing less."

"Yrjo?" I said, already knowing it had to be.

"Yes, Yrjo. What a ridiculous man. He thought he could hide things from me. From ME! He comes over here, thinking himself my better, that he could manipulate and fool me. As if I would believe anyone still walks around wearing capes and looking like a character from a bad movie. But I am sentimental. I had a soft spot for him. He has always played his games, it is his nature after all. Like a child seeking recognition, being a silly boy to gain notoriety and to get attention."

"Go back a long way, eh?" Yes, it felt uber-weird getting all chatty with the Head vampire.

Taavi looked at me curiously, as if he was as surprised as me we were chatting. "What are you doing here, Spark? How did you get into the grounds?" He studied me. "Ah, I see. A spell. No, a potion. You hid yourself, and your scent is still faint. How very clever of you."

"What can I say, I'm an ingenious kind of guy."

"I understand you have already encountered our
friend
this evening?"

"How do you know?" I shouldn't have bothered asking. I was as stupid as Yrjo for thinking anything got past Taavi. Not that I would ever say it, but he and Rikka have more in common than either would ever admit.

Taavi just looked at me. "Spark, let me tell you something about our world. My world. We are cold, some would say cruel, creatures, but we do have love. It may not be the love you humans have, in fact, I would say it makes yours pale into insignificance. Yes, we are cruel and our world is cutthroat, but we have deep feelings for one another. We will change sides, we will stab each other in the back, but we are also honorable in our own way. And we know what is best for us. Mostly."

"Like a little happy family." Taavi stared at me. I kept quiet.

"But some of us are snakes, and Yrjo is a viper. I knew something wasn't right. I felt the disruption, that there was a new one amongst us. That boy. But Oliver got to him first, that traitor. I assume he is dead?"

I nodded. "Very. But he was always armless." See what I did there? Sorry, it was in bad taste.

"I guessed as much. I feel things. I know my people. I know my Ward. It is part of me, and that is something Yrjo could never really accept. He has never had a home like I have, never had that connection. I feel the city. I know it."

"You knew he had taken Rikka?"

"No, not really. But I suspected. I had to wait, bide my time. Let events play out. It is our way."

He really is just like Rikka. "Okay."

"When Yrjo sent me out this evening I knew something was amiss. He would never skip such a treat. He is way too greedy and impulsive for that. Young girls in the woods? Oh my." Taavi licked his lips. "I left here, my home, but did not go where he had told me. I watched, and I saw. I saw him, and I saw Oliver enter your home."

"And you did nothing!"

"Please, Spark, your life means nothing to me. And besides, I saw the 'goblin,' so I knew Yrjo was defeated. Rikka is more powerful than I believe even you know. A worthy adversary. Anyway, I saw our traitor leave, knew Yrjo would return to defeat me. Or try. So I confronted him. It is our way. I am no coward. I would have fought him and destroyed him, as I still shall."

We watched in silence for a while as vampires continued to pour out of the house. They just kept on coming. There must have been close to a thousand. Some young, in their prime, others clearly just now woken from the empty sleep of the immortal. As they continued to pour out, so the house continued to burn.

Taavi watched, face blank, like it happened every day. "So what happened?"

"As is usually the way, his men turned on him. I knew he had taken some of my power, my Ward from me, but he did not know I had done the same to him. The games we play, Spark, so silly. Those still with me took him when he returned. And let's just say he surprised me with his strength. I never knew he was so strong with magic." Taavi shrugged. "The fight got out of hand. He used magic. Our home burns."

There isn't much I could say to that. That's magic for you. It's always a little unpredictable but I wouldn't be surprised if Yrjo used it as a last resort to escape and hit Taavi where he knew it would hurt. "What now?"

Taavi turned to me. "Why, Spark, my dear child, now we make him suffer."

"But how? Where is he? He could be anywhere if he ran."

"I have nothing he can use to hurt me, Spark. How about you?"

The bottom fell out of my world. Rikka had beaten him, Grandma had her witches, but Kate, Kate would be alone.

"Shit, shit, shit. You let me stand here talking when you knew he would be after Kate? But why would he?"

"Because it turns out he is more human than he thinks, Spark. He has lost, and all he has left is the pettiness of revenge. Such a pathetic creature, I thought him past such things."

Bret and Bart appeared out of nowhere, two twin Chinese man-mountains, like trolls in miniature but with fangs, and with no endearing qualities. "You want us to go get him?" said Bret, or Bart.

"No, that won't be necessary," said Taavi, watching for my reaction. I hated him then, but I also understood the true horror of their kind. They just don't fucking care.

"And you let him go after Kate? She is one of you, a vampire."

"Yes, Spark, she is. And that is why he wants her. To take her and to punish you. Me too. She is mine, after all." It's easy to forget, but as I killed her maker, who was Taavi's, so Kate is his.

"Why haven't you stopped him?"

"Because, in case you hadn't noticed, my home is burning to the ground and my people need me here."

I ran. I ran as fast as I could and I didn't stop until I got to the entrance, now open as vampires from across the city returned to their House to offer assistance. All except one.

I sprinted through the lanes to the car, and I don't even remember getting in or driving back to the city.

All I could think of was Kate.

I wouldn't let it happen. She was Kate. I loved her. Nothing bad could happen to her. Not now. Not ever.

Empty Spark

I was empty of everything apart from hate. Evil personified. Taavi's promises of revenge and death would pale to nothing compared to what I would do to Yrjo if he had lain so much as a hand on Kate.

I came back to myself to find I was walking down the corridor to her apartment door. There were no fires, no shouts or screams, just the quiet of the night. Was everything to be taken away from me? First I thought I'd lost Grandma, then Rikka. Now Kate. Surely not.

Maybe Yrjo wasn't even here and I was just being paranoid. But he had nothing to lose now. Taavi had beaten him, me and Rikka had defeated him, and taking it out on Kate was just the kind of thing a petty, vindictive creature like him would do. He had nothing else left apart from revenge. A way to truly get to me. There was little to gain apart from a victory of inflicting hurt. That's what he lived for though. To be cruel.

I'd show him cruel. My heart turned to stone. I couldn't cope if I even thought about Kate and what he could be doing to her. I was a killer. Stone-cold. As stoic as a troll after a night staring at rocks. I would save my family. At that moment, I realized what Kate was to me—family. I wanted her to be mine forever. To be hers. Always.

There was no way in hell I would lose another family member to the goddamn vampires. Yes, I understood the irony. She is a vampire, blah, blah, blah. But she's my vampire. I love her.

As I got to the door, out of breath and on the verge of a panic attack despite my best efforts to convince myself I was just on another enforcer job, and be cool, calm, and collected, I somehow managed to empty myself. I had to, otherwise the sight of the unlocked, and partially open door would have been too much. Yrjo was inside. I knew it.

Anger that had built for a century welled up inside of me. The hurt, the shame, the feeling of being a failure for not avenging my family, surfaced until my emotions had nowhere to go but out. Manifest as my own personal kind of evil where I didn't care about anything or anyone apart from my own.

I stood in the doorway, gaping like an imp let loose in a sock factory, as an unexpected sight greeted me. My body turned to rubber, and somehow I'd misplaced my legs, as I watched the lights from the buildings reflected orange and warm onto the gray water through the large floor to ceiling window. I was displaced. The world in slow motion, vanishing as it was too much to deal with. My eyes unfocused then snapped to black so quickly and fiercely I almost lost consciousness.

Magic consumed me. It raged and burned. Ink screamed for release as I took in the room. Bizarrely, I noticed that Kate had a new blouse on I'd never seen before. It was green, with large white dots. It suited her, brought out her eyes.

Such eyes. They sparkled more brightly than my magic. Maybe it was her tears; maybe it was mine. I don't know, and I didn't care as I walked like I was on clouds. To her. To him. Still and silent. Yrjo watched me, smiling the smile of the victorious as I staggered across the room like a zombie leaking formaldehyde, except I was leaking tears, not preservative.

"Are you okay?" My voice came out strong and confident, surprising me.

Kate nodded. "You?"

"I've had better days. Has he hurt you?" Kate shook her head, unable to manage words.

They were sat at her dining table, a small oblong of Scandinavian design in beech with curved corners I have always admired. Uber stylish. It was centered to the window, with Yrjo sat to the left, Kate beside him, back to the window. He watched, saying nothing, just enjoying the show.

You know what I hate about men of true confidence? Men who won't be put down, who will always try one more time? It's the fact they are fooling themselves. True strength, the sign of a real man, is knowing when you are beaten and accepting the truth.

Yrjo was kidding himself, yet acted like he was in a position of power, still holding all the cards. He was a fool. But he was powerful, no matter that I had beaten him once, even if I had Rikka to help—okay, to do most of the fighting. No matter that Taavi had chased him away like an unwanted stray. Yrjo was too old to let such things concern him much. He was confident he would have his way in the end, assured and even cocky. I despised him.