Neon Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 5) by Al K. Line Page B

eye and I swayed like a drunken man toward the bar, knowing that if it was Cardiff the state I was in would mean I wouldn't be allowed inside. But this was Tokyo, and besides, nobody would dare refuse me in my current mood.
    Next thing I knew I was sitting at a booth nursing a Sapporo Black Label, three empty bottles lined up in front of me like an accusation. I wasn't supposed to be resting, I was meant to be finding Kimiko. Failing that, why wasn't I at the hotel, curled up next to Kate and snoring away like a sensible person? Because I would never sleep again, that was why. Because I was out of my mind, frantic and despairing. I had to find Kimiko, I had to kill her, and I would not rest until I did.
    It consumed me, kept my internal fires burning strongly, dangerously so, and I knew I was shedding body fat at an alarming rate. This craziness us Hidden get involved in—or maybe just me—it takes its toll in so many ways, and I was over the edge, using reserves I didn't have spare to bolster my flagging senses. I would pay for all this in a major way.
    I downed the rest of my beer and set the bottle alongside the rest. Leaning back, I closed my eyes for a second but the room spun so I had to open them. Everything was blurry and I had double-vision, so I shook my head to clear it all away but it only made things worse. What was I doing? I had no idea.
    Two residences down, a wooden house with a fire, and fire itself. Was this two of the five elements? I got a sinking feeling that whatever property I chose next I'd be caught in the loop of the way the elements are arranged—invisible strings pulling me in one direction, maybe towards my doom.
    I was surrounded by superstition and an esoteric hum, a background noise of spirituality and magic entrenched in the culture. Wood to feed the flame, fire which produces ash to form the ground. Earth to mine for metal, and metal which attracts the dew which creates water, and water which nourishes wood. A perfect circle of the elements, me stuck in it. Maybe I'd just had too much to drink and it was all nonsense, but the feeling stuck as my emptiness overwhelmed me.
    Time passed in a blur, and I must have ordered more beer as I vaguely recall a long line of them on the table, but the next time I came back to awareness was when I found myself standing up on a low platform, karaoke machine next to me and mike in hand.
    I was singing, "Oh baby, baby" and mangling what Britney had done so well—what? She did. My hips were swaying and I was belting it out. The patrons paid me little attention as most were more interested in their drinks or chatting—I guess my voice was as forgettable as I am.
    I sang louder, getting just as lackluster a response, trying to follow along with the words on the screen but I couldn't see them at all now as I was blind drunk and could hardly stand. Why on earth was I in a Regular bar, and more to the point why was I in a karaoke bar, and even more important than that, why the hell was I singing? I don't sing, I have a voice like someone was strangling a cat slowly while blowing on a bagpipe.
    The song finished and I bowed before stumbling out of the bar. I'm not even sure if I paid for my beer.
    Focus was impossible even though the fresh air hit me hard and sobered me up a little. I think maybe I was crying tears of frustration as the neon was clouded and people kept bumping into me as I weaved down the street, no clue where I was heading or what I had in mind. I told myself over and over to get it together, to not lose the plot entirely.
    There were things I had to do, important things, and this was no way to act. But I think I needed the release, the chance to forget my worries for a while. Stupid. Booze is never the answer, the comedown is always worse than facing your problems head-on in the first place.
     
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    My head was clear when I awoke. Most disconcerting. I expected to have the mother of all hangovers but it seemed like Japanese beer agreed