New Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 3) Read Online Free
Author: Al K. Line
French. French! Why would anyone want to speak French?"
"Um, because they live in France, or because it's the closest country to us. Or, maybe they want to go on vacation. Anyway, you speak it." Rikka speaks just about every language there is, but he's had plenty of time. Over nine hundred years, actually.
"That's not the point. They're trolls, and trolls don't go on holiday. They do troll things, like stand around being big and made of rock, hide under bridges, chase goats, scare kids, that sort of thing."
"When you have quite finished," said Madge giving us the evil eye. "I've got better things to do than stand around while you gossip. What do you want? Make it snappy, chop-chop."
"Hi, Madge, you are looking as delightful as ever," I said, giving her my best smile. One day it will work, I'm sure. "Have you had your hair done?"
"Shut up, Spark. I've a good mind to ban you."
My stomach somersaulted at the thought. "What!? Why? What have I done?"
"That's the point. You haven't been in lately, and I've got bills to pay." Yeah, right, like she had bills to pay. She's a witch, they don't pay bills.
"I've been recuperating, and I moved. And, well..."
"He's shacked up with Kate. He's in love," said Dancer, wiggling his eyebrows.
Madge sighed. "What do you want?"
"Three large fry-ups, please, Madge," said Rikka, generously handing over the cash. " And three teas, too."
Madge took the money—no change given—and sploshed tea into three chipped mugs from a battered metal teapot, the liquid so thick it poured like time had stood still. We thanked her, added our own milk and sugar, then took a table.
I watched the trolls suspiciously while I slurped the dark goodness and tried not to think about how many mouths had been on the chip on the rim. Madge wiped the counter with the same rag she always used, another thing that never changes in the best cafe in the world.
"Well?" asked Rikka.
"Well, what?" I hate it when he's cryptic.
"Are you up for this? You've been out of action a long time." Rikka held up a hand as I went to speak. "Yes, I know we had a lot of trouble with the vampires, not to mention the rest of it, and things still aren't back to normal, but you don't normally take so long to recover, Spark. A week or two at most."
"I'm up for it. But in case you've forgotten, I fought a two-thousand-year-old vampire, thought you and Grandma were dead, dealt with you-know-who the week before that, and you practically blew up my house."
"Don't exaggerate." Rikka licked his lips as Madge slammed a plate of food down in front of him then returned with mine and Dancer's a moment later. She threw our cutlery in our general direction and planted a bottle of ketchup on the table that looked suspiciously like the same bottle I'd seen months ago. I decided not to have sauce.
"Rikka, I appreciate the new place, I really do, and it's great to have money in the bank,"—I was loaded after selling my house. A little tip, buy and then sell ninety years later, it's the only way to guarantee a tidy profit on property—"but I needed the rest. I deserved it."
"Fine, as long as you are back now. It hasn't been the same without you, Spark," he said in a rare moment of emotion.
Rikka is like a father to me. He and Grandma practically raised me after my parents were killed when I was fourteen, and he has been in my life ever since. Rikka taught me about magic, I was his student, and I have worked for him and a few others as an enforcer ever since. But mostly him. He is the Head of the UK Councils, after all.
The Councils get confusing. Dark for humans, Hidden for everyone else, although the vampires refuse to acknowledge the Dark Council but dare not ignore the Hidden one—if they did they would be wiped out, and fast.
Rikka has been in charge for centuries, and you underestimate him at your peril. What took away almost every last ounce of my energy, and half killed me, did little more than tire him out for a few days, and that was
"Um, because they live in France, or because it's the closest country to us. Or, maybe they want to go on vacation. Anyway, you speak it." Rikka speaks just about every language there is, but he's had plenty of time. Over nine hundred years, actually.
"That's not the point. They're trolls, and trolls don't go on holiday. They do troll things, like stand around being big and made of rock, hide under bridges, chase goats, scare kids, that sort of thing."
"When you have quite finished," said Madge giving us the evil eye. "I've got better things to do than stand around while you gossip. What do you want? Make it snappy, chop-chop."
"Hi, Madge, you are looking as delightful as ever," I said, giving her my best smile. One day it will work, I'm sure. "Have you had your hair done?"
"Shut up, Spark. I've a good mind to ban you."
My stomach somersaulted at the thought. "What!? Why? What have I done?"
"That's the point. You haven't been in lately, and I've got bills to pay." Yeah, right, like she had bills to pay. She's a witch, they don't pay bills.
"I've been recuperating, and I moved. And, well..."
"He's shacked up with Kate. He's in love," said Dancer, wiggling his eyebrows.
Madge sighed. "What do you want?"
"Three large fry-ups, please, Madge," said Rikka, generously handing over the cash. " And three teas, too."
Madge took the money—no change given—and sploshed tea into three chipped mugs from a battered metal teapot, the liquid so thick it poured like time had stood still. We thanked her, added our own milk and sugar, then took a table.
I watched the trolls suspiciously while I slurped the dark goodness and tried not to think about how many mouths had been on the chip on the rim. Madge wiped the counter with the same rag she always used, another thing that never changes in the best cafe in the world.
"Well?" asked Rikka.
"Well, what?" I hate it when he's cryptic.
"Are you up for this? You've been out of action a long time." Rikka held up a hand as I went to speak. "Yes, I know we had a lot of trouble with the vampires, not to mention the rest of it, and things still aren't back to normal, but you don't normally take so long to recover, Spark. A week or two at most."
"I'm up for it. But in case you've forgotten, I fought a two-thousand-year-old vampire, thought you and Grandma were dead, dealt with you-know-who the week before that, and you practically blew up my house."
"Don't exaggerate." Rikka licked his lips as Madge slammed a plate of food down in front of him then returned with mine and Dancer's a moment later. She threw our cutlery in our general direction and planted a bottle of ketchup on the table that looked suspiciously like the same bottle I'd seen months ago. I decided not to have sauce.
"Rikka, I appreciate the new place, I really do, and it's great to have money in the bank,"—I was loaded after selling my house. A little tip, buy and then sell ninety years later, it's the only way to guarantee a tidy profit on property—"but I needed the rest. I deserved it."
"Fine, as long as you are back now. It hasn't been the same without you, Spark," he said in a rare moment of emotion.
Rikka is like a father to me. He and Grandma practically raised me after my parents were killed when I was fourteen, and he has been in my life ever since. Rikka taught me about magic, I was his student, and I have worked for him and a few others as an enforcer ever since. But mostly him. He is the Head of the UK Councils, after all.
The Councils get confusing. Dark for humans, Hidden for everyone else, although the vampires refuse to acknowledge the Dark Council but dare not ignore the Hidden one—if they did they would be wiped out, and fast.
Rikka has been in charge for centuries, and you underestimate him at your peril. What took away almost every last ounce of my energy, and half killed me, did little more than tire him out for a few days, and that was