Dark Abandon

by Nicole R. Taylor

  “It’s a rare honour for the faculty to teach the only living Natural who’s touched Arondight,” Islington said.

  Tensing, I glanced at Adelaide, who wasn’t even looking at me. “Do the other students know who I am?”

  “They do,” Islington replied. “Rumours are difficult to stop once they gain momentum.”

  Great. Either I’d fit right in, or I’d be subjected to a slew of hazing rituals.

  “You’ll be head cheerleader before you know it, Purples,” Wilder quipped.

  I elbowed him in the gut. “Unlikely.”

  Moving around the corner, we stepped down a flight of stone stairs and found ourselves in a traditional English garden. Impeccably manicured box hedges lined the path, and raised garden beds housed various rose bushes and cottage flowers—white daisies, purple lavender, a rainbow of hollyhock, and violet asters.

  “The Naturals have held this land for almost eight hundred years,” the headmaster explained as we walked past a marble statue of a naked lady with a sword. “The borders are well-established, along with security systems—modern and Light-infused.”

  “But something still got through,” Wilder declared.

  I shot him a warning glare. “No security system is infallible when something wants to get through bad enough.”

  “The alarms were triggered, so they didn’t fail,” Adelaide declared.

  Wilder grunted but didn’t press. His gaze was flicking everywhere, taking in the Academy he’d spent so much of his youth at. I remembered he’d told me he’d remained here during term breaks because he had no family to visit. Christmas, Easter, and summer holidays were all spent in the confines of this place. I wondered if he considered it home, or if he remembered it the same way I did all those foster homes I passed through.

  “We appreciate your presence, Wilder,” Islington drawled, “but we don’t want to alarm the students. There has been no reason to suggest anyone has been possessed, so this is merely a precaution. If something is testing our defences, then we’d prefer to be prepared if there is a next time.”

  “And the added benefits, of course,” Adelaide said, making moon eyes at Wilder. She obviously found him attractive, and who could blame her? Not me. “The students will cherish the opportunity to learn from an active Natural.” She turned her smile to me. “And you can learn more about your heritage, Scarlett.”

  “How many students study here?” I asked her.

  “About a hundred.”

  “Only a hundred?” Shocked, I looked up at the building, the two-story wing towering above us.

  “We’re a dwindling race, Miss Ravenwood,” Islington remarked. “This is the lowest number of students we’ve ever had. These are dire times, so you can understand why we made the request to the London Sanctum.”

  It seemed like such a shame. Demons were only increasing in numbers and the Naturals were dying out, not because of the war but because of basic biology. I was starting to see why our appointment here was so non-negotiable.

  “On the left, you can see the wing of the Academy which houses most of our classrooms,” Islington said, holding his hand towards the façade of the building. “Students are required to take several theory programs. They are demonology, history, ethics, math, biology, and science.”

  “Science?” I asked, my brow creasing.

  “We live in an ever-evolving world, Miss Ravenwood. Technology is always encroaching into our lives, effecting the balance between Light and Dark.”

  “It’s not only technology, but biological science,” Wilder said. “Understanding how our enemy works is extremely important in learning how we could one day defeat them.”

  “Of course,” I said with a smile. Human Convergence was the thing on everyone’s mind at the London Sanctum, and the underlying reason we were here.

  “There are a number of corresponding practical classes,” Islington said, continuing his overview. “Light studies and combat training. Both are broken down into various sub-courses, but they take up much of the curriculum. We are training warriors here, and we need to arm them with as much knowledge—mental and physical—as we are able.” He checked his watch, then turned to me. “I understand you’ve already been granted your arondight blade.”

  I nodded. “I have.”

  “Typically, students aren’t given their blades until they graduate, so I must request that you surrender yours until your training has been completed.”

  A heavy feeling settled in my gut and I was overly conscious of the weight of the hilt in my jacket pocket. Separating a Natural from their arondight blade? Nah ah.

  “It will be placed in the vault,” he explained. “No one will be able to touch it, Miss Ravenwood. It will be perfectly safe there.”

  “You’re a student now, Purples,” Wilder said. “Showing favouritism would draw unwanted attention. We don’t want to alarm any of the students.”

  “He’s right,” Adelaide said with a kind smile. “They have enough pressure without knowing their safety may be at risk.”

  Swallowing hard, I reluctantly took out my arondight blade. Holding it in my hand, I memorised the feel of it—the weight and design—before handing it to the headmaster. At least he didn’t ask for the cold iron dagger hidden in my boot.

  “Take care of it?”

  “Of course.” He slipped the hilt into the inside pocket of his jacket. “If you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.” He glared at Wilder. “If you’d like to come with me, we have a few matters to discuss your position.”

  Adelaide and I watched the two men walk away. Standing awkwardly, I glanced at her.

  “He’s very… proper.”

  “Liam’s okay,” she said, looking after their receding forms. Her head tilted slightly to the side and I knew she was checking out Wilder’s arse.

  I coughed, drawing her attention back to me. “Where to now?”

  “Let’s get you oriented with the grounds.”

  I shrugged, glad to be led for once.

  “It must be strange returning to school after so long,” she said, leading me through a side door.

  “I’ve got a good ten years on the senior class,” I retorted. “What do you think?”

  “This isn’t a traditional school, Scarlett. You’re welcome here.”

  I narrowed my eyes, but didn’t argue with her. Kids were right about adults being out of touch, but I found myself wondering at what point that happened. Was it a switch that flipped one day? Was it a certain experience or age that determined the shift? I didn’t know, but what I did understand was that kids stuck together in their cliques like pack animals, and I was one of them.

  Adelaide treated me to the extended grand tour of the Academy. After we’d wandered through the halls and peered into classrooms, we ventured through the kitchens for some lunch, then strolled by the gym and training rooms where students were being drilled in various combat techniques.

  Kids of all ages were represented—from ten to seventeen—and it was a strange sight seeing a bunch of primary-aged students fighting with staffs. They were so well behaved.

  Outside, Adelaide showed me the soccer pitch, the tennis courts, and the indoor swimming pool. Once my eyes had been shoved back into my head, she pointed out the boundary of the grounds. The first was where the students were allowed to roam, and the second was the ultimate border of the property.

  By the time we returned to the manor for the dormitory tour, the sun had already begun to set.

  Like the other wings, it was two-story and separated right down the middle by shared common rooms. One side was for the boys, the other for the girls. Upstairs were the senior classes and the younger kids were downstairs. The faculty apartments were in a wing deeper in the complex.

  “And here is your room.” Adelaide opened the door at the end of the hall, revealing a shoebox. It wasn’t unlike any London flats if you asked me.

  A single bed with a simple wooden frame was pushed up against the left wall, a desk a
nd a closet was against the right. A window with a box seat was at the end, bookending the door we’d just walked in. There was only just enough room for both of us to stand in the remaining floor space.

  My bag had made it up here somehow, and sat on the foot of the bed.

  “This is… cozy,” I declared.

  “It isn’t much, but there’s a common room at the end of the hall with couches, games, books, and a TV. Breakfast is at six, and classes begin at eight.” She thrust a piece of crumpled paper at me. “Here’s your schedule.”

  I plucked the timetable from her hand and peered at it. The first class in the morning was Light Studies. “Diving in headfirst, I see.”

  “The best time to start is now,” she declared, handing me a key which I guessed was to my room. “Come with me. I want to introduce you to one of our brightest students.”

  I followed her out into the hall, our footsteps muffled on the carpet runner. Every inch of space in this place was either adorned with elaborate draperies, old-timey paintings, sculptures, or Medieval-style weapon displays—just like a historic English manor house was supposed to.

  Adelaide rapped her knuckles against a door four down from mine.

  It was wrenched open, revealing an angsty teenage girl. I immediately got the sense she was the alternative goth type, A.K.A. the outsider. The exact kid I was when I was seventeen—dyed black hair, sharp fringe, smeared smoky eyeliner, ivory skin, and stompy combat boots. She looked cool to me, but I knew the other kids probably saw her as too weird to fit into their moulds.

  “Ah, Madeline,” Adelaide said, ignoring the girl’s cold stare, “this is our new student, Scarlett.”

  She looked at me. “She’s old.”

  “I’m twenty-five,” I stated. “It’s not old. Besides, thirty is the new twenty.” Thankfully this wasn’t the kind of school that required uniforms, otherwise it would be even more humiliating.

  The girl rolled her eyes, clearly not impressed. “Whatever.”

  “Scarlett is starting classes tomorrow,” Adelaide went on, oblivious to the silent challenge happening between me and Madeleine. “Could you buddy up with her? Show her to the kitchens and her first class?”

  The girl spun a strand of black hair around her finger and looked me over. “Cool hair,” she said after a moment.

  “Thanks. Purple’s my thing.”

  “Yeah. I know.” She sighed heavily and pouted. “Breakfast’s at six. I won’t wait for you.” The door slammed in our faces and I blinked.

  “Well, that was welcoming,” I drawled, scratching my head.

  Adelaide smiled brightly and patted me on the shoulder. “See? What did I tell you?”

  3

  The next morning Madeleine walked me to breakfast… and promptly dumped me at the door.

  I couldn’t blame her, really. Unwanted attention wasn’t high on her priority list and besides, I was a grown-up who could walk herself to class.

  I ate on my own, enduring the curious stares from the other students. No one was brave enough, or interested enough, to approach me, and I felt a pang in my heart. Nothing had changed. The way I remembered life at school was exactly the same, even if the Naturals thought they were different from humans. We all had the same faults and attributes. Sticking to the familiar, forming packs, putting weight behind things that didn’t matter in the real world—popularity, beauty, power. Scratch that. Those things still totally ruled grown-up’s lives, they were just levelled up.

  I found my way to Light Studies without much fuss. The hallways were busy with students rushing back and forth, shouting, laughing, and jostling one another. It was a refreshing change from the dour mood at the Sanctum, and I was already starting to forget that outside the grounds, a war was being fought.

  I found a seat in the middle of the cluster of desks and set my notebook and pen down in front of me. The classroom was once part of a series of private rooms, called an apartment that stretched the length of the entire wing. I wasn’t sure which this use to be—the parlour or the dressing room—but the walls were lined with a mint green wallpaper, gilded filagree, and wood panelling. The ceiling was painted with a Renaissance-era fresco with a Natural twist—armour-clad knights, delicate ladies in waiting, kings, and princesses, and the Lady of the Lake in her flowing robes and impossibly long hair.

  At the front of the room was a larger desk and a blackboard on wheels, and behind that were three sets of gigantic panelled bay windows that ran almost to the ceiling. Within each nook were bench seats lined with emerald-coloured velvet. Outside, I caught a glimpse of the Academy grounds and the rolling Cotswold landscape beyond.

  It took me a while, but I gradually became aware of a looming presence. Dark, angry, and doing their best to exert their power of influence. I looked up and wasn’t surprised at what I found. Three menacing girls glared at me and I stared back, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  The one in the centre was obviously the leader. They all had the physique of a Natural—lean, yet muscular—but she was tall, blonde, had flawless skin, and was the kind of girl who walked the halls and had rose petals thrown before her. The others had darker colouring, but were no less pretty. They were Brittany’s back-up singers.

  “I’m Kayla,” the blonde girl said, ruining my punch line. “And this is Trish and Maisy.”

  I stared up at them and a chill ran down my spine. It was like I was staring at a cliché. “Okay?”

  Kayla rolled her eyes. “And you’re in my seat.”

  “I didn’t know these seats were assigned.”

  “They aren’t.”

  Her challenge was clear. She ruled the Academy and wanted to make sure everyone knew it, even me.

  They glared at me, waiting. They wanted me to move, and the stubborn streak in me was daring me to stay put. Remembering my mission, and Greer’s disproving stare when Islington calls her about my inevitable day-one detention, I caved.

  Sighing, I picked up my notebook and pen, and rose to my feet. I was twenty-five, I should be immune to this shite.

  Flipping my hair, I walked away, finding another seat at the back of the class.

  The boy next to me gave me a look, then leaned towards me. “Hey, I’m Trent.” He punctuated the announcement with a cocky smile that had flirt written all over it.

  He was a handsome guy with his sandy blond hair, chiselled jaw, and teenage muscles, but he had a baby face and was under legal age.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re jail bait,” I hissed.

  “Maybe in the human world,” he replied, turning up the charm. “But you’re in our world now. Age is nothing when you have this…” He held up his hand and a spark of Light began to form in his palm. White tendrils grew, twisting around each other, growing larger until his creation was complete—a shimmering white rose bud.

  Ugh, puke.

  The door burst open and a man strode in, his trajectory lining up with the desk at the front of the room. Middle-aged, salt and pepper hair, tough guy exterior. A typical teacher type with magical powers, then.

  Trent closed his hand, absorbing the rose, and sat back in his seat. I felt the burning dagger of a teenage girl’s jealousy stab me in the face, and I glanced up. Kayla was looking at me over her shoulder, disapproval clear in her features. She obviously liked Trent, or at least had a claim over him, but Trent was a loose cannon if you know what I mean.

  “Good morning, everyone,” the teacher said, dumping his bag onto the desk. “For the first time in the history of the Academy, we have a new student in the senior class.”

  Senior class? I glanced around the room as everyone turned to stare at me. I was in the senior Light class? That couldn’t be right. I mean, I didn’t know anything…

  You did kill Markzoth, I thought. You’ve gotta know something. But was that me or Arondight?

  “Scarlett Ravenwood.” The teacher craned his neck, looking for me. I wasn’t hard to miss. “I’m Mr. Masters. Would you care to stand up and introduce yourself?”<
br />
  I groaned and clicked my pen a dozen times as fast as I could. Why did teachers always want the new kids to give their life stories on their first day? As if turning up at a fresh school as the new and shiny weirdo wasn’t bad enough, they had to put me on exhibition, too.

  How many times had I done it? Five or six, at least. After the first two, I made up a different story every time, just to make things difficult. It hardly mattered because I knew I’d either get expelled or moved to another foster home before the year was out. But I was grown now, and I’d faced worse than a bunch of hormone-enraged teenagers.

  I stood, my gaze scanning the students. There were about a dozen or so in the class, all of them sitting in their friendship groups. The mean girls, Kayla, Maisy, and Trisha, a group of boys that looked like the jocks, a bunch of regular kids—the kind that sat in the middle of the hierarchy—and a new breed of teenager was amongst them… the hardcore Natural. For them, training was serious business—they’d grow up to be the career soldiers like Romy, Alo, and the others. They’d walk the beat until the day they died.

  Blinking, I took a deep breath. “I’m Scarlett. I’m from London. I’ve been training at the Sanctum there after I found out I was a Natural last winter.”

  “She’s practically a geriatric,” Kayla whispered loudly enough so everyone could hear.

  “Kayla,” Mr. Masters snapped, “please leave your childish arrogance at the door. We’re training you to become a Natural, not a gossip columnist.” The class sniggered.

  “Yeah, I’m older than everyone else, so what?” I turned my gaze onto the mean girls. “I wasn’t as lucky as you are to have your whole life to dedicate to becoming a Natural. So I was transferred here so I can learn, and that’s what I intend to do.” I sat down, suddenly aware that my heart was thumping in my chest. Was I having a panic attack? I knew school was tough, but I need get a grip!

  Trent gave me a double thumbs up and I sank back into my seat with a groan.

  “All right, all right,” Mr. Masters said, waving his hand at us. “Now, let’s pick up where we left off. Levitation. Miss Ravenwood? Would you care to come to the front and show me where your level is at?”