Dark Illusion

  Dark Illusion

  The Arondight Codex - Book Two

  Nicole R. Taylor

  Dark Illusion (The Arondight Codex - Book Two) by Nicole R. Taylor

  Copyright © 2019 by Nicole R. Taylor

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  www.nicolertaylorwrites.com

  Cover Design: Covers by Juan

  Edited by: Silvia Curry

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  The Arondight Codex

  About Nicole

  VIP Newsletter

  Dark Abandon (The Arondight Codex - Book Three)

  Prologue

  The air was full of the scents of rebirth. Blood, ash, brimstone, and Darkness.

  He dragged the needle through his flesh, his teeth grinding to keep his pain contained. His legion of Infernals swirled around him, aiding him with their essence. It was laborious work—the delicate operation taking many days and weeks to complete.

  He couldn’t take over a living creature the way his soldiers could. Those bodies deteriorated over time—they were weak and couldn’t wield Darkness. A demon of his power required something a little more…durable. So he was forced to stitch together the strongest pieces of fresh corpses, weaving Darkness into the flesh and bone, turning the congealed blood black.

  As one of the greater races of his species, he could take on a human appearance through his shell, but his demonic essence always bled through. Teeth, eyes, and claws were his bane, though Darkness helped hide his true nature from the human world. Glamours would come later, once his body was fully formed.

  The Light called him a Balan, a king of Hell that commanded legions of demons, full of cunning and the ruthless desire for sin, but after his failure at the Naturals’ London Sanctum, he was king of nothing.

  He gasped as his fingers slid through his damp hair. He was red and sticky, his new face unfamiliar and raw.

  A wall of fire erupted into life around him, circling his shell, raining down searing heat onto his raw flesh. He dropped to his knees, his needle falling to the carpet only to be lost amongst the fibres.

  “My Lord,” he said, feeling the presence of his father, the one from who they all came.

  “Markzoth.”

  Names had power amongst their kind and how his master knew his, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter now, he was in his thrall, his Darkness flaring and dying as the sound rumbled around the room.

  “I will have Arondight,” the demon commanded. “No cost is too great.”

  Markzoth felt the delicate strings holding his new body together begin to fray under the pressure, but it wasn’t his new shell that was being threatened.

  “I need time to regain my strength,” he said, his teeth elongating through his flimsy glamour.

  “The balance is tipping in our favour,” the voice declared. “Now is the time to strike.”

  He bowed his head, his neck stiff. “You will have what you desire, my Lord.”

  “The girl is the key.”

  “The plan is already in motion,” he replied. “It will be done.”

  “Another failure will not be tolerated.”

  The flames flared, then dissipated, leaving behind a black scorch mark on the carpet. Markzoth breathed deeply, the scent of burning synthetic fibre entwined with the heady copper tang of human blood. It smelt like home. The home his kind had before they were forced into this world.

  His lord had left him, but as Markzoth resumed the preparations on his new shell, he realised he wasn’t alone.

  He looked up, his gaze finding a swathe of Darkness hovering before him. The human boy.

  It was a good day, then. Full of the promise of blood and Darkness. They would come as he knew they would—after all, it was in their nature.

  Markzoth smiled and resumed his work, allowing them to see each deliberate stitch through his stinging flesh. They would come, and they would die. It was certain.

  All he needed to do was wait.

  1

  The library was a ruin around me, the ombré portal swirling like an angry tornado through the shattered remains of the dome.

  The scent of phantom smoke filled my nostrils and I scrambled across the floor, my hand curling around the hilt of my arondight blade. As soon as I had it in my grasp, the sword erupted into life, sparking with purple Light.

  My throat was raw, and my knees were red with blood, but I pushed to my feet and swung my blade with my last ounce of strength. The demon roared with fury, the sound cutting off with a gurgle as I severed his head from his body.

  I’m waiting for you, Scarlett.

  I jumped as a book slammed down on the table in front of me, bringing my consciousness back to the present. I was in the kitchen at the London Sanctum eating lunch, not battling a greater demon who’d been trying to trick me into selling my soul.

  “What’s that?” I asked as Wilder slid into the chair opposite. Wilder was my Natural mentor, trainer, and an all-round pain in my arse. “Don’t tell me there’s bland reading involved.”

  “You had a lucky break,” he said glowering at me, the light catching the subtle silver sheen in his eyes. “There’s still a long way to go with your training.”

  Sighing, I pushed away my half-eaten lunch and dragged the book towards me. The hardcover—simply entitled Demonology—was a deep midnight blue with gold embellishments.

  “Why didn’t anyone think to give me this when I first got here?” I complained as I opened it.

  “It’s a kids’ book,” Wilder declared.

  Ugh, he was right. As I flipped through the pages, I found illustrations of different demons and simplified explanations for each kind of manifestation.

  I shot him a pouty look. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “I’m trying to impart on you the wisdom of a fifteen-year education in as little time as possible,” he drawled.

  “Is there such a thing as a spell book? Or is it called a Light book?” I wondered. “That could be useful.”

  “Light doesn’t come with an instruction manual,” Wilder said with a disgusted look. “It’s a personal experience, and different for everyone.”

  “So how does anyone learn to fully control it if it’s unpredictable?”

  “I can guide you, but the rest is up to you.” He gave me a pointed look and added, “I don’t know why you’re so worried. You did just fine in the incursion. I heard you blew off the doors in the gym.”

  “How do you know that was me?” I demanded. “I was the only one there.”

  Since the incursion, the Sanctum had been in high-alert. Naturals had been scouring the city for traces of the Balan demon who’d attempted to take over the building and steal the Codex, but so far, no traces had been found. At least we didn’t have to worry about the Infernal who’d been trying to alter people’s DNA—Wilder had taken it out after he’d excised it from Greer.

  “Romy said there was an academy,” I said, stroking my fingers over the book.
“Where is it?”

  “The Cotswolds.” Fancy.

  “Did you go?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?” I prodded.

  “And what?”

  I rolled my eyes, not interested in prying information from Wilder so early in the day. “What’s it like?”

  “Like any boarding school that teaches you how to kill demons.” He smirked and nodded at the book. “You better study that, Purples. The alert level isn’t going to drop until we’ve found your buddy, the Balan demon.”

  My scowl deepened. “He’s not my buddy. He killed my parents and tried to trick me into selling my soul.”

  “All the more reason to kick your training into overdrive.”

  Wilder was so infuriating. He had this thing where he liked to brush off people with his abrasive personality. He was my mentor, and most days he drove me to the brink of fire and brimstone, but I didn’t know what I’d do without him. I so wasn’t telling him that. Talk about complicated.

  I was pulled in two directions. Four if I took my heart into account. North and south were the Human Convergence Project and the search for Arondight. East and west were Jackson and Wilder. Then they all had their own personal tug of wars, which just made the whole thing confusing as hell.

  At the thought of Jackson, I groaned and lowered my head into my hands. My poor best friend, who’d been possessed by a genetically modified Infernal demon, had his DNA mutated, and was now a world champion e-sports bazillionaire. He was also my closest family, had hidden romantic feelings for me, and caught me kissing Wilder—something that would never happen again—in the hall outside my room. To say we’d parted on bad terms was an understatement.

  “What now?” Wilder asked with a groan.

  “At some point I have to go find Jackson.”

  He snorted and leaned back in his chair. “Good luck with that, Purples. You might have to flash a little boob to entice him back here.”

  “Wilder!”

  “He’s the weedy little demon-hybrid that’s in unrequited love with you.”

  “He’s also the guy who could help Ramona cure innocent people infected by DNA-altered Infernals,” I fired back. “Human Convergence, remember?”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s always something with you.”

  “He was the only person who cared,” I murmured, snapping the demonology book closed. “After years of bouncing around foster homes, getting kicked out of school after school, and being the weirdo loner, he was the only one who stuck. And now he hates me.”

  “That’s his problem, not yours.”

  I snorted, which caused Wilder to take away my unfinished lunch and slide it down the table out of reach. He could’ve had the decency to ask if I was finished first.

  “C’mon. You can’t do anything about him today. Let’s get back to the gym.” He rose to his feet and smoothed down his tight black T-shirt. The fabric left nothing to the imagination, and I tried not to stare at his defined muscles. “Don’t forget your colouring book.”

  Smart-arse.

  I rose to my feet, the bruises on my bruises shrieking at me. What I wouldn’t give for a nice hot bath right about now, but no, Wilder wanted to humiliate me with more hand-to-hand combat training.

  “Hey, there you are,” Romy said behind us.

  I turned, smiling at the Natural who’d fast become a good friend amongst the others who still looked at me with trepidation. Having purple Light wasn’t exactly a normal thing around here.

  Romy was tall, muscular, yet lithe, and her skin was a flawless ivory—apart from the black geometric tattoos that snaked up and down both arms and onto her neck. She said the designs didn’t mean anything, but I wasn’t entirely convinced.

  “Greer has summoned you to the conservatory,” she said, glancing warily at Wilder. Her black hair was in a loose braid today, which was different to her usual severe ponytail.

  “We’re going to the gym to train,” he said, “it’ll have to wait.”

  “She said she’d like to see Scarlett immediately.”

  Wilder narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed it was a one-person invite, and I squashed down an irritating pang of jealousy.

  “It must be important,” I said. “I better go see what she wants. I’ll come straight back to the gym, okay, boss?”

  He grunted and stalked out of the kitchen, causing a group of younger Naturals to scatter in multiple directions like frightened mice.

  “I swear he gets grumpier every time I see him,” Romy said making a face. “How do you handle him?”

  “He’s not so bad,” I replied with a shrug. “You just have to get to know him.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, waving her off, “you have to impress him with your slashy-stab-stab sword skills first.”

  “If you say so.” She laughed and nudged me towards the door. “You better not keep Greer waiting.”

  “Do you know what she wants?” The only time Greer summoned me was when I was in trouble…and I’d gotten into trouble a lot since I arrived. Not even killing the greater demon who’d tried to steal the Codex had lifted my probation.

  “Like she’d tell me,” Romy said with a huff. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’ll let you leave the Sanctum now.”

  “Cool. I was itching for a visit to Primark for some new pants.”

  She laughed and shooed me away. “Always a pleasure, Scarlett.”

  The London Sanctum was a hive of activity as I walked down the corridors.

  It was a far cry from the first time I’d been here. The Naturals weren’t as prolific at procreation as they used to be, so their numbers were quite low. Even with the other Sanctums around the world, there weren’t enough of us left to protect humanity completely against the demons. I guess that’s what made my purpleness so interesting.

  Arondight, AKA the Indigo Flame… Supposedly, I’d come into contact with the mystical blade revered by the Naturals as a child, but I didn’t remember. That suspected contact was what made my Light so special. It was tinged with the violet hue of the weapon both sides of the war coveted beyond all else.

  I had recollections of the night my parents died and the demon who’d murdered them—the same demon who’d lead the attack on the Sanctum—but that’s all I knew. I hadn’t even known I was a Natural until that fateful meeting with Wilder outside the pub I used to work at in Camden Town.

  So, apparently, I was the last person—besides my parents—who’d seen Arondight in a thousand years. Trouble was, I didn’t have any clue where it was, even though the Codex had shown me a vision.

  Stupid Scarlett, touching things she wasn’t supposed to, rushing headfirst into danger like a moron.

  The Codex was supposed to burn the unworthy from the inside out, that’s why Greer was the only one allowed to touch it. She was the protector, and the head of the London Sanctum, but she was also pure enough to commune with the book and decipher its desires. Technically, I should be a steaming pile of ash, but the Codex had shown me Arondight instead.

  The blade still existed, and it was out there someplace, waiting to be found.

  Passing a group of tradesmen who were reattaching the library doors, I offered them a smile as they stopped and stared at my passing.

  As far as they knew, they were repairing some funky storm damage in some obscure academic library, not fixing the remains of a demon incursion. I so couldn’t wait until I could learn to use my Light. I’d seen Wilder use his to cloak himself, to make humans forget he was there, and other little bits and pieces, but weaving an illusion on a whole crew of tradesmen was something else entirely.

  I clattered up the wrought iron stairs that spiralled up to the conservatory, my footfalls echoing loudly around me. Emerging into the room above, I spotted Greer in the clear glass enclosure that surrounded the pedestal the Codex occupied. Overhead, the dome was full of the grey English sky, giving the whole space a dreary feel.

  Greer was wearing her b
lack pantsuit and heels again. Airbrushed and blemish free, everything about her was immaculate as a posed Vogue cover shoot—except this was real life. No wonder Wilder had the hots for her. Sometimes I wondered if I did, too.

  “Scarlett,” she said as she stepped out of the enclosure with all the grace of an angel, “how is your training progressing?”

  “Brutally,” I replied, slumping my shoulders.

  Greer smiled and stood before me. Reaching out, she grasped my shoulders and straightened me out.

  “That’s how it’s supposed to be,” she said, plucking a strand of my purple-tinged hair. It was natural, not dyed at all—supposedly another thing left behind by Arondight.

  I corrected my posture and glanced at the Codex. The air shimmered around it, and I could hear the strange siren song it seemed to sing just for me. A low purring sound like a playful kitten you just wanted to pick up and cuddle.

  “You wanted to see me about something?” I asked, turning my attention back onto Greer.

  Watching me closely, she asked, “Does it still call to you?”

  “I keep wanting to look at it,” I replied with a frown. “But I figured it does that to everyone.”

  “No, not everyone.” She gestured for me to follow her into the enclosure. “Come. I want to show you something.”

  Realising she was leading me toward the Codex, I hesitated slightly before I moved with more purpose. I couldn’t be afraid of a magic book, even if it had the power to turn me to ash.

  The Codex was a record of all the knowledge the Naturals held following the cataclysm that destroyed Camelot almost a thousand years ago. It was the same event that saw Excalibur shatter and Arondight lost, and the Naturals hadn’t been the same since. Much of who they—we—were was lost. I wasn’t the only one whose past was a complete mystery.