Dark Descent Read online

  “What other choice to I have?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  “You can choose to do whatever you please, Scarlett,” Greer replied. “If what you truly want is to go back to your old life, we cannot stop you. We don’t recommend it, but you’re free to go at any time. The Sanctum is not a prison.”

  It felt like passive-aggressive manipulation but staying here and becoming a Natural was what I wanted. Man, these people were good.

  “Fine,” I said. “So be it. I’ll train.”

  Greer smiled, looking a little too pleased for my liking. Turning to Wilder, she snapped her fingers.

  “I’m not a dog, Greer,” he drawled. “I don’t come when you whistle.”

  “Wilder,” she said, ignoring his insult, “you are assigned as Scarlett’s mentor.”

  “Excuse me?” That got his attention. He straightened up in the armchair, his fingernails long forgotten.

  “Why else did you think you were here?” Brax asked.

  “As a reference on her résumé,” he stated, biting back as hard as he could, “not petitioning for a job I don’t want.”

  His words stung, but why would I expect anything else? I wanted to like Wilder, but he just kept pushing everyone and everything in the opposite direction as hard as he could.

  “This is not open for discussion,” Greer declared. “The Codex demands all Naturals have the highest level of understanding. You are the most qualified to assist Scarlett in her journey.”

  “So, that’s it? The Codex has spoken?”

  She nodded and turned her attention back to me, leaving Wilder to stew in his own juices. “Welcome to the Sanctum, Scarlett. Your path won’t be easy, but in time, I hope it will be rewarding.”

  Aldrich and Brax stood, each shaking my hand like it was a mystical signature on a contract.

  I was in. I was going to get what I wanted all those weeks ago. I was going to learn how to fight and take my life back. This was the purpose I was searching so hard for. Maybe this time I’d find out who I was meant to be.

  “Are we dismissed?” Wilder rose to his feet and glared at me. So much for celebrating, then.

  “Go,” Brax said, waving his hand. “Please.”

  Wilder strode away, his boots thumping against the carpet. He was a whirlwind of annoyance that I was forced to jog to keep up with as we left the library.

  Greer was right—my path was going to be hard if I had to deal with Wilder’s temper tantrums day in, day out. Why did he hate me so much?

  Once we were in the hall, I sighed and a smile crept across my lips. The same burst of adrenalin that’d seared through my veins the night I’d confronted Wilder outside of the Hung, Drawn, and Quartered overcame me. What did they call it? Passionate victory. Good choice of words, Scarlett.

  “Don’t smile like that,” Wilder snapped.

  “Why not? I won. I’m finally going to learn who I am.”

  “Here’s the thing, Purples,” he said with a sneer. “This isn’t a victory for you. I’m being punished and so are you. Get that through your scarred little head.”

  “Low blow.” I pouted and rolled my eyes. “What did I do to get into trouble? I can understand you being in the doghouse with your stellar attitude, but me? I get they were arseholes, but now they’re giving me what I want, and they’re helping Jackson.”

  “You talk back, you used your Light openly, you’re different, and your friend is being mutated by demon DNA that has rendered him impervious to alteration. Do you want me to keep going?”

  I scowled and shook my head.

  “They’re being nice to you because you’ve got something they want. The sooner you understand that, the better off we’ll both be. We’re tiny cogs in a much larger machine, remember?”

  “I’ve got something they want?” I scoffed. “Like what?”

  “They know something’s different about you, but they don’t know what.” He twisted his finger around a lock of my hair, painfully pulling against my scalp. “There’s more going on here than either of us know.”

  “That hurts, Wilder.” I narrowed my eyes, uncomfortable at his proximity. He was totally within kissing distance.

  He sneered and let me go, putting space between us.

  “You think I shouldn’t trust those three?” I glanced over my shoulder, but we were alone. “What are they called anyway? The council, elders, tories?”

  “Arseholes.”

  “What did they do to you?” I asked straight up. “Or should I be asking, what did you do to them?”

  “Maybe one day I’ll tell you,” he said darkly. “But for now, don’t trust anyone, Purples. Not even me. If there’s only one lesson I can get through your thick skull, then make it that one.”

  “I don’t understand this world, Wilder,” I argued. “I don’t…”

  He turned and stepped into my personal space again, lowering his lips towards my ear. He was so close, I could smell his cologne again—spice, male sweat, and something else… something metallic.

  “A demon who can alter human DNA has been stalking you,” he murmured, his breath tickling my ear. “Then add in all those other things, the Balan who was present when your parents died, your purple Light, and your immunity to alteration, and you’ve got one hell of a conspiracy beginning to take shape… and you’re at the centre of it.”

  “But… you said I wasn’t special. And how do you know about my parents?”

  He ignored me, much to my ire. “There’s one of those things they don’t know about yet.”

  I drew in a shaky breath, the gravity of the situation finally making sense. Was I right to keep the hue of my Light a secret? It was looking that way, but Wilder also said not to trust anyone, including him.

  “Something more is going on, and they’re going to try to use me to get to you,” he whispered.

  “This is going from bad to worse,” I murmured, trying not to panic.

  I had no idea what to do. Did I escape, play along, or confront them? It wasn’t an easy decision, not with Jackson still locked up in the vaults at the mercy of his strange mutation.

  “You’ve been given permission to train,” Wilder said, straightening up, his voice returning to its normal volume. “So that’s what you’ll do.”

  I had no other choice but to agree. I’d gone from being special, to being kicked out and used as bait, then welcomed back into the fold by Greer, the protector of the Codex, herself. There was more to this than I understood… and I intended to force Wilder to help me. I’d learn everything I could, train every second I was able, I’d forgo sleep if it meant I could master my Light. Then, when I’d gathered my strength, I’d find out the truth about everything. There was no way in hell I was going to let anyone make me their tool.

  “Fine,” I hissed, “I’ll train. I’ll play along, but if you think, even for one second, that I’ll—”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Purples,” he interrupted with a smirk. “It’s not all about you.”

  He strode off, whistling to himself, leaving me in the middle of the hallway, staring after him in shocked silence. What the hell just happened?

  “Wait!” I cried. “Where am I supposed to go? What time do we start? Do I need a textbook? Wilder!” He disappeared around the corner, leaving me standing all alone. “Wilder?”

  14

  The Sanctum was eerie at five in the morning.

  The building was rather empty most times, but even more so at an hour no one in their right mind should be awake at. Well, unless you’d been out all night and were finally dragging yourself home. I’d had more than my fair share of those experiences.

  Last night, Wilder had sent me a text message—I had no idea how he had my number—demanding my presence on the third-floor at this precise, and ungodly, hour. I’d thought I’d seen everything the Sanctum had to offer, but it appeared I’d missed one vital part—the gallery.

  I peered into the first room, tucked away in a lone corner of the third-floor, and I couldn’t h
elp but feel like I was someplace I shouldn’t be. Art galleries were cool and all, but this one seemed private and not for outside eyes. I was now a Natural in training, but I still felt as if I existed just outside the sphere of belonging.

  The room was dimly lit, the charcoal grey-colour of the walls darkening it even further. Paintings hung at precise intervals, each of the ornate golden frames lit with tiny LED spotlights. There were a mixture of portraits, landscapes, and battle scenes, each differing in era and style. Men were depicted with ruffled collars, suits of armour, and riding rearing stallions. Surprisingly, the women were much the same. An odd dress showed up in a portrait or two, but there were sword-wielding maidens amongst the male soldiers on the battlefields too. Hm, they were a progressive lot.

  My footsteps echoed softly as I walked through the first room, wondering about the people around me. They were obviously Naturals, but who were they?

  I moved into the second space and found more paintings, which were larger, taking up most of the space on the walls they hung on. Wilder stood in front of a landscape of a castle, the canvas at least a foot taller than he was.

  He was wearing his standard black T-shirt, the material clinging across his chest, leaving nothing to the imagination. Were his biceps bigger? They seemed bigger.

  His gaze lowered as I approached, and I squirmed, feeling self-conscious. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I glanced at the painting, wishing I’d had a baggier T-shirt. The Natural ‘uniform’ was very clingy.

  “You’re late,” he snapped, his voice loud in the silence.

  “Why are we here?” I asked, staring at the painting.

  “If you truly want to be one of us, then you have to understand where you come from,” Wilder replied. “Let’s call this History 101.” He pointed at the image. “What do you see?”

  The painting depicted a grand castle on a rocky plateau, which overlooked rolling green fields and forests. Stone walls and towers stretched up into the blue sky, and red and gold flags twisted in the imaginary wind. Banners hung either side of the gatehouse—three gold crowns on a field of crimson—the open portcullis leading into the inner bailey, where a series of mounted knights were assembled. It was a detailed snapshot of a grand medieval fortress.

  “A castle?” I wondered what the catch was.

  “Wrong. It’s not just a castle, it’s Camelot.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I’ve come to terms with the whole demon and Light thing, but Camelot?” I wanted to scoff because everyone knew Arthurian legends were just that. Legends.

  “The stories are mostly fabrications twisted by the ages, but the people who lived there were as real as you and me.”

  “They were Naturals?”

  Wilder nodded and moved me to the next painting. It was a portrait of a woman with long flowing hair, her blonde tresses twisted into braids and dotted with tiny white flowers. She stood within the waters of a blue pond, her cream robes draped around her body and disappeared into the water. The background was a forest of emerald green, untameable and filled with the promise of fairies and wild beasts. In her hands, she held an ornate sword, its tip disappearing into the waters at her feet.

  “She’s the woman I see everywhere,” I said. “She’s in the skylight in my room. Who is she?”

  “That’s the Lady of the Lake.”

  “Really? It’s getting very Arthurian in here,” I declared.

  “Our history has been fictionalised for human consumption many times over the years,” Wilder drawled. “There’s a hint of truth in it, but they left out the demons and focused on the knights and romances.”

  The word ‘romances’ sounded weird coming from Wilder, and I found myself flushing at the thought of him ‘romancing’ someone.

  “Who was she?” I nodded towards the painting.

  “No one knows for sure,” he replied with a shrug. “We do know she gifted both Excalibur and Arondight to the Naturals.”

  “Wait, there’s two swords? I thought there was only Arondight?”

  “Our history says Excalibur was destroyed. Not long after, Arondight was lost, but that’s another story.”

  I blew a loose strand of hair out of my eyes. “You don’t know very much.”

  “Much of our history was lost in the cataclysm of 1185.”

  “Cataclysm?”

  “The Naturals of Camelot were able to defeat the first wave of demons that invaded Earth, and those battles were the basis of the Arthurian legends, but the enemy wasn’t gone for good. When the demons inevitably rose again, they caught the Naturals unawares. The scourge overran Camelot, and all those within were wiped off the map. Excalibur was shattered, the Naturals were splintered, and the demonic horde has been on Earth ever since.”

  Greer had told me about the delicate balance between the two forces when I’d first arrived at the Sanctum. Over a thousand years had passed, and the Naturals had never been able to fully recover their power. I gathered they needed Excalibur and Arondight, and since the former was supposedly shattered, I understood why they wanted to find Arondight so badly.

  “The Holy Grail?” I asked, thinking about the stories I knew.

  “They were searching for Arondight, not the Grail.”

  “Oh… What about before?” I wondered. “Where did the Naturals come from?”

  Wilder shrugged. “This is all we know. Our origins are lost.”

  I frowned as a wave of sadness washed over me. To not know where your people came from must be awful. I knew all about that, and knowing that the history of the Naturals before me was just as hazy didn’t fill me with the reassurance I was craving.

  Instead of wallowing, I changed the subject. “Where does the Codex come in? I asked Greer about it the first time I was here, but she didn’t say much.”

  “The Codex was created in the ashes of Camelot,” Wilder explained. “It’s the only record we have of our faith, history, and origins. It contains all our secrets, our triumphs… and our failures.” He gestured to a third painting that depicted men and women overlooking an ornate tome on a table. Rays of light shone from its pages, marking it as a holy relic. “It is protected here, under the care of Greer. She was appointed to decipher and govern its power so we might live to fight another day.”

  “What’s with you and Greer?” I asked.

  “There’s nothing with me and Greer.”

  I rolled my eyes and glanced away, studying the sword in the Lady of the Lake painting. He challenged her at every turn, was abrasive as hell, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she secretly liked it. The notion of a forbidden affair popped into my mind, and I was taken aback by the pang of jealousy that stabbed me in the heart.

  “We like to push each other’s buttons, Purples,” he shot back. “Challenging authority gets me off.”

  Yeah, got him off inside her.

  I swallowed hard, brushing away my stupid hormones and turned to face him. “So what now, boss? Do I have to write an essay about the history of the Naturals?”

  Wilder smirked and walked away, gesturing for me to follow. “In these rooms are paintings of notable Naturals and the battles fought over the last thousand years. This is our past, and it shouldn’t be forgotten, but we have the future to worry about. Things are changing, the balance is tipping, and we need to be ready.”

  I clenched my fists and nodded, though a twist of dread tightened my stomach. I’d seen some confronting things in my journey to the Sanctum, but something told me those were nothing compared to what else was lurking out there.

  Wilder led me downstairs to the gym, my footsteps dogged by images of demons and burning castles. Were things really that dire? I didn’t understand how demons could exist while no one knew about them.

  As I weaved past a weight machine, I was suddenly aware that I was being watched. Forced to cross the room and bear the brunt of curious stares from a few early risers, I focused on Wilder’s back. I didn’t like being the anomaly, and I especially bristled at the thought of being the subje
ct of the Sanctum’s gossip. I wished Romy had kept that tidbit to herself.

  Before I panicked and broke into a full-on sprint, Wilder closed us in a private room, cutting off my escape route. At least we were alone. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him—like why my Light was a funky colour, whose side was the right side, and was I in some kind of danger from within the Sanctum. The mention of conspiracies and secrets hidden in my past were burning a hole in my ‘need-to-know’ pocket.

  Blowing out a sigh of relief, I studied the room. Racks of weapons lined one wall, and I approached them, all the pointy bits intimidating as hell.

  “These are the basic tools of a Natural,” Wilder said, gesturing to the array. “While we have few specialised weapons that mortally wound demons, it’s beneficial to learn how to fight with everything and anything.”

  I stood in front of a display of ornate hilts. Some were pure metal while others were wrapped with leather, but all of them had a cross guard and pommel like a traditional sword would.

  “These are arondight blades?”

  He nodded. “There are several different styles. While any Natural can activate one, hilts are forged to fit the grip of their owners. They are a very personal weapon.”

  “So, I’ll get my own?” I asked, running my fingers across the hilts.

  “In time.” He nodded to the next rack. “These daggers are made out of cold iron. When pierced in the correct fashion, demons are forced out of the possessed.”

  “Cold iron? What’s that? You refrigerate it first?”

  “No, it means it’s iron mined from a meteorite that fell to Earth.”

  “Why is it cold then?”

  Wilder pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not literally cold, Scarlett.”

  I snorted and picked up a dagger, feeling the weight of it in my palm. Wilder must’ve used one of these on Blond Tips that fateful night outside 8-bit.

  “When do I get to learn how to use them?”

  “Not today.” Wilder snatched the dagger out of my hand. “So far, you’ve proven yourself to be nothing but a Mary Sue, and quite frankly, I call bullshit.”