pinkie.
I couldn't resist. "Hey, Dancer, guess what? I have a new nickname for you now. Pinkie, how does that sound? Kind of nice, right?" I gave him my most winning of smiles, but for some reason he wasn't impressed. "Suit yourself," I said, and walked away, ignoring Oliver.
"You coming?" I called over my shoulder. Dancer, a.k.a. Pinkie, clutched his hand and joined me at the SUV.
Rikka, Mage Rikka as he prefers to be called, actually insists—he thinks it makes him sound more intellectual than wizard—is a bit of a car buff, and he has a small fleet of identical vehicles his staff or part-time employees can use for his business. They are, to put it mildly, a little OTT for my taste. But I seldom drive and don't own a vehicle—this way fuel is free and I always have new car smell, which is awesome.
Cardiff is not exactly teeming with off-road opportunities, at least not in the city center, and anyway, you really don't want to get Rikka's vehicles dirty. Nevertheless, he runs a fleet of Range Rover Sport SUVs just because he likes room and comfort. Fair enough, as he really does need the room. You'll see, just wait until we meet him, okay? It's not like he goes out much though, but anyway, it is what it is. He likes gas guzzlers and can afford it.
"What, you not gonna open the door for me?" I asked Dancer.
"Just get in." He walked out into the road and opened the driver side door and clambered in, moaning about his finger and giving empty threats.
I joined him inside and put on my seatbelt. Safety first.
The rear door opened and we both turned.
"What the hell are you doing?" shouted Dancer, face as dark as his art.
"Don't think so, Oliver."
The vampire scowled at us and said, "Taavi said to watch you, Spark, until this is dealt with. All of it." He moved to get in and me and Dancer exchanged glances.
Dancer was ready to call up all manner of nasties and I had to put an arm on his shoulder. I stared into his eyes, shook my head.
I turned to Oliver, still half inside. "Look, you may have your orders, but I don't answer to you, or Taavi. Dancer certainly doesn't, and I know for a fact Rikka will go mad if you make his car smell of vampire. I'm going to his place now, make your own way. But get out of the damn car, right now!"
Oliver's eyes widened and I could see his mind weighing up the options. He got out and was gone. He'd be there before us. Vampires can move fast, really fast.
"Okay, look, Dancer, I know I messed up, but I'm trying to fix it." He gave me a cold stare. "Fine. I was going to fix it. Nobody can think on an empty stomach though. I just needed breakfast. Look, I've already seen Taavi so I needed some down time."
"You've seen Taavi, already? Damn, Spark, you really are in trouble if that guy got you so soon. Even the Boss, um, Mage Rikka, only just heard. That's why you've got the vampire escort then?"
"Yeah. As for Rikka, it's because he insists on ignoring the TV and the Internet," I said, knowing how much the Boss hated what he called a "temporary blip on the road back to the good days."
Rikka still believes that the time of magic will come and we can all somehow live together, Regulars and Empties—what we sometimes refer to ourselves as.
He thinks that the new technology is a bad idea, aches for times long past, when he was a child and things were simpler.
"Whatever, but he's not happy. Far from it. You better tread carefully, you know what he's like when he's in a mood." Dancer turned to me. "How could you, Spark? How could you be so stupid? And you killed someone. You actually killed an innocent Regular. Are you nuts?"
Dancer isn't a bad guy, not really, just a bit full of himself. He may enjoy playing with dead dudes but he is no killer, and as far as I know has never killed a human being, vampire, troll—not that you can—or anyone you would class as a sentient being.
He's still a muppet though, but harmless. Unless you're dead and somebody paid him to re-animate you for
I couldn't resist. "Hey, Dancer, guess what? I have a new nickname for you now. Pinkie, how does that sound? Kind of nice, right?" I gave him my most winning of smiles, but for some reason he wasn't impressed. "Suit yourself," I said, and walked away, ignoring Oliver.
"You coming?" I called over my shoulder. Dancer, a.k.a. Pinkie, clutched his hand and joined me at the SUV.
Rikka, Mage Rikka as he prefers to be called, actually insists—he thinks it makes him sound more intellectual than wizard—is a bit of a car buff, and he has a small fleet of identical vehicles his staff or part-time employees can use for his business. They are, to put it mildly, a little OTT for my taste. But I seldom drive and don't own a vehicle—this way fuel is free and I always have new car smell, which is awesome.
Cardiff is not exactly teeming with off-road opportunities, at least not in the city center, and anyway, you really don't want to get Rikka's vehicles dirty. Nevertheless, he runs a fleet of Range Rover Sport SUVs just because he likes room and comfort. Fair enough, as he really does need the room. You'll see, just wait until we meet him, okay? It's not like he goes out much though, but anyway, it is what it is. He likes gas guzzlers and can afford it.
"What, you not gonna open the door for me?" I asked Dancer.
"Just get in." He walked out into the road and opened the driver side door and clambered in, moaning about his finger and giving empty threats.
I joined him inside and put on my seatbelt. Safety first.
The rear door opened and we both turned.
"What the hell are you doing?" shouted Dancer, face as dark as his art.
"Don't think so, Oliver."
The vampire scowled at us and said, "Taavi said to watch you, Spark, until this is dealt with. All of it." He moved to get in and me and Dancer exchanged glances.
Dancer was ready to call up all manner of nasties and I had to put an arm on his shoulder. I stared into his eyes, shook my head.
I turned to Oliver, still half inside. "Look, you may have your orders, but I don't answer to you, or Taavi. Dancer certainly doesn't, and I know for a fact Rikka will go mad if you make his car smell of vampire. I'm going to his place now, make your own way. But get out of the damn car, right now!"
Oliver's eyes widened and I could see his mind weighing up the options. He got out and was gone. He'd be there before us. Vampires can move fast, really fast.
"Okay, look, Dancer, I know I messed up, but I'm trying to fix it." He gave me a cold stare. "Fine. I was going to fix it. Nobody can think on an empty stomach though. I just needed breakfast. Look, I've already seen Taavi so I needed some down time."
"You've seen Taavi, already? Damn, Spark, you really are in trouble if that guy got you so soon. Even the Boss, um, Mage Rikka, only just heard. That's why you've got the vampire escort then?"
"Yeah. As for Rikka, it's because he insists on ignoring the TV and the Internet," I said, knowing how much the Boss hated what he called a "temporary blip on the road back to the good days."
Rikka still believes that the time of magic will come and we can all somehow live together, Regulars and Empties—what we sometimes refer to ourselves as.
He thinks that the new technology is a bad idea, aches for times long past, when he was a child and things were simpler.
"Whatever, but he's not happy. Far from it. You better tread carefully, you know what he's like when he's in a mood." Dancer turned to me. "How could you, Spark? How could you be so stupid? And you killed someone. You actually killed an innocent Regular. Are you nuts?"
Dancer isn't a bad guy, not really, just a bit full of himself. He may enjoy playing with dead dudes but he is no killer, and as far as I know has never killed a human being, vampire, troll—not that you can—or anyone you would class as a sentient being.
He's still a muppet though, but harmless. Unless you're dead and somebody paid him to re-animate you for
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