Dark Abandon

by Nicole R. Taylor

  Dark Abandon

  The Arondight Codex - Book Three

  Nicole R. Taylor

  Dark Abandon (The Arondight Codex - Book Three) 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

  The Arondight Codex

  About Nicole

  VIP Newsletter

  Dark Genesis (The Arondight Codex - Book Four)

  Prologue

  “I think we’re safe for now.”

  Mea glanced up at the sound of Chris’s voice and heaved a sigh of relief. They’d been on the move for the past week, barely evading detection. It was a relief to stand still, even if it was only for a day or two.

  Chris had a formidable presence, and even now, it filled the tiny kitchen to the brim. At six-foot-four, he stood a whole head and shoulders over her, and that wasn’t including the hard muscle that he’d built up over the years of training as a Natural.

  She had much of the same experiences at the London Sanctum, but Mea was more athletic. Weaving Light was more suited to her strengths, while Chris’ was brute force. Together, they made the perfect pair. She supposed that’s why they ended up together.

  “How is she?” he asked, making sure the door was locked.

  “She’s fine. Happy even.” Mea threw a glance at the toddler sitting on the rug. She was a pretty child, even if she was a little different with her purple-tinted hair. It was only a hint, but as she grew, it’d become brighter. “You know Scarlett. Nothing worries her.”

  “Good. I think we’ll be okay to stay here tonight. I’ll reassess in the morning.”

  “I haven’t felt anything for hours, not since we left Bristol.”

  Chris frowned and sat beside her at the kitchen table. “We’ve been careful. We can take a breath, but I want to keep moving.”

  “Can’t we stay for a little while?” Exhaustion—both mental and physical—was catching up with her. It was messing with her Light and without it, she couldn’t sense the Dark as well as she ought to.

  “We must keep her safe,” he replied, glancing at the girl. “She’s our only hope.”

  “One more night.”

  “They’re closing in on us, Mea. We’re running out of places to hide.”

  She looked across the kitchen to where Scarlett was playing with a set of battered building blocks. Barely three, the little girl was already making complex shapes and designs. Her vocabulary was accelerating, too. Just the day before, she’d called Mea ludicrous… and knew exactly what it meant.

  “It’s not fair,” she murmured. “She’s got so much weight on her shoulders, and she’s barely begun to live.”

  “Life isn’t meant to be fair,” Chris said, “it’s natural selection.”

  She understood. They were all a part of something bigger than themselves, but sacrificing everything they’d ever known—family, friends, and their own kind—for the greater good, took a toll. Scarlett would never know a normal life. She’d never go to school, have friends, a boyfriend, get married, or have children. If everything went according to Gilhana’s plan, then—

  “I can’t bear it, Chris.” She let her head fall into her hands.

  “We both chose to make this sacrifice,” he said as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. “We both knew it might come down to this.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “It’s just… Some days are harder than others.”

  He nodded and wrapped his arms around her. “Knowing what might happen to her never gets any easier. In anther time and place, we may not have even met her. If this is how it ends, then we die knowing we did all we could to protect the Flame.”

  “I know we need to trust Gilhana, but—”

  “Shh,” Chris soothed. “I know she’s crazy as shite on a stick, but she’s a Druid, Mea.”

  Cold air tugged at her fingertips and she sucked in a sharp breath, her head snapping up.

  Chris stiffened, automatically reaching for his arondight blade. “What is it?”

  “Darkness…” she rasped. “They’re here. They—”

  “Quick.” He stood to his feet and began to check all the windows, peering at the street outside. Every time he pulled back a blind, orange light spilled into the flat. “Shite. They’re coming.”

  He didn’t have to explain. Mea felt it in her soul—they hadn’t lost them in Bristol at all. A greater demon had joined the hunt, masking their position and laying the foundation for a false sense of security.

  “Can we make it to the car?” she asked.

  Chris shook his head.

  This was it then. The time they feared was upon them and they had to do whatever it took to protect the little girl in their charge. If tonight was the night they met their maker, then they wouldn’t make it easy. Naturals did not kneel before Darkness, they fought to the last breath.

  “Scarlett,” she called, “come here.”

  The little girl discarded the blocks and ran into Mea’s open arms, a grin plastered on her chubby face.

  Picking her up, Mea hugged Scarlett tight, breathing in the lilac scent of the shampoo they used at bath time the night before.

  “I need you to do something for me, sweetie. Something important. Do you think you can help me?”

  The girl smiled and nodded, always eager to please. Scarlett was always such a well-behaved child. She hardly ever cried, had never thrown a tantrum, and had toilet trained herself. Mea remembered the day she found her in the bathroom of their latest flat, doing her business without being prompted. She was the envy of parents everywhere.

  That’s how Mea knew she didn’t have to do much to get her into the metal box in the corner. Made from cold iron—metal extracted from a meteorite—it was the best last-minute protection they had.

  She set the girl inside and made sure she was focused. “Scarlett, you have to hide, okay?”

  Scarlett stared up at her with big eyes, her lip trembling. She could sense what was coming for them.

  “It’ll be okay, I promise,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “Stay very quiet, and I’ll be back soon.” She smoothed her hand through the girl’s purple tresses and smiled. She was such a beautiful child and would break so many hearts when she became a woman. Mea had to make sure she made it that far. Once she manifested, then the Naturals—and the whole world—would have a chance at beating the Darkness.

  “You’re so brave, sweetie,” she said, holding back tears.

  Before Mea lost her nerve, she closed the lid of the box, sealing it with her Light. Hopefully, if anything happened to her and Chris, it’d mask Scarlett from the demons.

  Standing, she joined Chris and unsheathed her arondight blade. Sparks flew across the tiny kitchen and their gazes met.

  “I love you,” he murmured. “If we die tonight, then we die well.�
�

  “For the Flame,” she whispered as the door exploded inwards, “for Arondight.”

  1

  I stood at one end of the training room deep within the London Sanctum, my gaze fixed on a paper target.

  A cold iron dagger slammed into its mark, imbedding half an inch into the wood with deadly precision.

  “Watch what I’m doing and not the target,” Wilder said. “The only way you’re going to hit what your aiming for is to perfect your throw.”

  He turned and demonstrated the correct stance, extending his arm. My gaze slid over his body, studying the lines of his muscled back instead of the way he held his arms, and I tensed. The second dagger collided into the target, imbedding right next to the first, and I blinked.

  He turned, his eyes flashing silver in the light.

  Ever since Wilder and I had joined our Light in the Necropolis, things had gotten worse. Inappropriate things to do with kissing and… Well, things that made my cheeks turn the same colour as my name.

  My crush was literally crushing me every time we were in the same room. I supposed that’s why people called them that. They never ended well because they never started to begin with.

  What made it worse was that Wilder knew. We’d shared one kiss, but that was a long time ago and it’d never happened again. There’d been no discussion or acknowledgement, just the odd, thinly veiled manipulation when he wanted me to do something I didn’t want to.

  Everyone knew he had a thing for Greer. Perfect Greer, the head of the London Sanctum and protector of the Codex. She was powerful, beautiful, and in control—and the complete opposite of me.

  Which is why I’d never stand a chance.

  “Scarlett.”

  I blinked, my gaze focusing on Wilder. “What?”

  He frowned, but it turned out to be more of a scowl than anything. “Where the hell are you today?”

  “In the pit of my despair,” I drawled.

  “Well, claw yourself out and focus. Training doesn’t stop just because you killed one greater demon.”

  Markzoth, the Balan demon that murdered my parents and who’d spearheaded Human Convergence—the project designed to mutate innocent humans into demon super soldiers. Thinking about him made me wonder what my best friend, Jackson, was up to.

  Jackson had fallen victim to the project, but Ramona had been able to stop the mutation before it changed him completely. Now he was living with the Naturals in the Sanctum, helping us find a cure since there were others out there—lost, alone, and changing.

  It was difficult not to take all of these things personally, especially since the entire world seemed hell-bent on capturing my purple arse. Markzoth, the demons, Julius Wainthrope. The ultimate prize was Arondight, and I had a part of it stuck inside me, turning my Light a funky neon purple.

  I knew training was important, but there were some things I just couldn’t let go of. Friends, family, truth…love.

  I swallowed hard and turned my attention back to Wilder—my mentor, my teacher, my… Sometimes I didn’t know what he was.

  Wilder sighed sharply and held out a dagger towards me. “Throw it.”

  I snatched it and turned to the target. Lifting my left arm and holding my right—the one with the dagger—I balanced myself. Eyeing the target, I squared my jaw and threw.

  The blade flew through the air, rotating hilt over tip, then slammed into the paper target with a dull thud. Right between the eyes.

  Wilder grunted. He was waiting to scold me for not paying attention, but today I one-upped him.

  “You’ve been practicing,” he said.

  “I can’t rely on Arondight, can I?” I made a face and walked across the room to retrieve the daggers from the target.

  “Don’t get your pout on, Purples.”

  That was another after effect from the Necropolis. We’d begun to fight like cats and dogs, just like we had when we’d first met. Maybe it had something to do with how he’d called for back-up—using the secret booty call methods he shared with Greer—or maybe it was because I felt like I was being left behind. I could fight with at least ten different kinds of weapons—swords, daggers, staffs, and even several different kinds of guns in the wake of Wainthrope’s attempted coup—but I still hadn’t mastered my Light.

  “I can throw a bloody knife, Wilder,” I exclaimed, wrenching out the first dagger. “What I can’t do, is control the single most important thing about being a Natural.”

  “It’s dangerous,” he said, “you know that.”

  “Yeah, but it’s who I am.” I pull out the last two daggers and turned to face him. “You said it yourself—I’m just pretending to understand. Relying on dumb luck to survive won’t work forever.”

  He narrowed his eyes.

  “They’ve got to let me out sometime. Everyone’s got a mission, even Jackson, and I’m here throwing cold iron daggers at targets photocopied onto A4 bits of paper sticky-taped together.” I jabbed a finger at the latest one. “And the printer is out of toner!”

  I looked away as the door opened, saving us from yet another argument.

  “Oh, there you are,” Romy declared. She was always happy-go-lucky, but her bright attitude rarely wore off on me, let alone Wilder. “Knife throwing. My favourite!” She picked up a dagger and flipped it over in her hand. Wilder raised his eyebrow as she hurled the blade towards the target. When it slammed into the crotch area, she let out a whoop. “Bull’s-eye!”

  “Do I need to take out a restraining order?” Wilder asked.

  Romy laughed and shook her head. “The council wants to see you both.”

  I bristled. I liked talking to Aldrich, but my growing jealousy of all things Greer-related was getting out of hand. That wasn’t even mentioning Brax, who took surly to a whole new level.

  “What do they want?” I asked. “Do you know?”

  Romy shrugged. “I don’t know. I just deliver the message.”

  “We’re either in trouble or they want us to do something,” Wilder declared.

  I hadn’t done anything lately so it must mean that they had an assignment for us, or they had some new information about my parents… or maybe it was a lead on Arondight.

  “Her eyes are lighting up,” Romy said to Wilder. “I know that look.”

  “Trouble,” he drawled. “It always means trouble.”

  Two out of three council members were waiting for us in the library.

  Most Naturals seemed allergic to books, but I liked this place. It was quiet, smelt nice, and was a calm point in the brewing chaos of the world outside.

  Our boots tapped on the hardwood floors as we walked the length of the room, passing the glass cases with their crazy artifacts—taxidermied butterflies and moths, various historically precious cold iron daggers, arrowheads and tools, Medieval jewellery, and other curiosities. Rows and rows of shelves of leather-bound books lined each wall, light spilling into each alcove from the windows on the left side.

  At the end of the long corridor of books, the room opened up into a circular space. A domed skylight topped the space, where beyond, the sky was finally showing the first hints of springtime blue. Passing the columns, we stepped down into a seating area with crimson leather couches, armchairs, and matching carpet.

  Greer was poised in one chair, while Aldrich lounged in another. He was a great deal more casual than the protector of the Codex, but today, his expression was serious.

  “Where’s Brax?” Wilder asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “He’s working with the Regula,” Greer replied. “Hopefully, his presence can satisfy their concerns about how things are run here.”

  I squashed down the urge to scoff. The only way I could describe how leadership was running this place lately was ‘reckless abandon’. No one seemed to know which way was true north anymore.

  “Scarlett,” her gaze found mine, “do you have something to say?”

  “No.”

  Her stare was impassive and formal. “Please sit.” She he
ld out her hand, gesturing to the seats across from theirs.

  I sat as far away for Greer as I could, and Wilder sat as close as he was able without raising suspicion. Puke.

  “We’ve received intelligence that there may be a breach at the Academy,” Greer stated, cutting to the chase. “There was an incident a few days ago that triggered the perimeter alarms, though an inspection of the grounds came up empty.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Wilder said, his brow furrowing. “If something got through, there’s plenty of places for it to hide.”

  “The faculty checked all the students,” Aldrich explained. “None were possessed but as we know, Human Convergence is still in play, albeit in a small way. It doesn’t take much to infect a host and the Academy is a target of interest for the demons.”

  I straightened up. “Are you saying you suspect one of the students has been infected with the same mutation as Jackson?”

  “There have been signs that suggest something isn’t right,” Greer said with a nod. “The headmaster said there’s a heaviness in the air that wasn’t there before—an aggression that’s not… Natural.”

  “The Academy has always been cutthroat,” Wilder said, looking bored. I got the feeling he wasn’t interested in ever going back there, and I didn’t blame him. But if something was wrong… “Besides, there’s fail safes for this kind of thing.”

  “I’ve known Liam a long time,” Greer stated. “I believe him, especially in these troubled times.”

  “Liam?” I asked.

  “Liam Islington,” Aldrich said. “He’s the current headmaster of the Academy. He’s a hard man, but a firm ally.”

  “Forgive me, but I’ve become skeptical of leadership lately,” Wilder drawled. “We’re not investigating the Academy because Islington has a funny feeling.” He air quoted the last part, his eyes flashing silver.