“I don’t think…” I glanced warily at the other students. “I, uh—”
“Your existence is hardly a secret, Miss Ravenwood, or is it that you think your status warrants special treatment?”
Kayla smirked triumphantly at me and I wrinkled my nose. My funky Light didn’t warrant being singled out, but Mr. Masters seemed to think it made me a prime candidate for demonstration. They’d see it soon enough, so I may as well get it out of the way.
I made my way confidently to the front of the class, where Masters piled up a series of hardcover books. I hadn’t levitated anything before, but how hard could it be? Wilder had taught me about intent, so if I didn’t overdo it, then this should be easy as pie.
I looked at Masters, waiting for his instructions.
“Levitate the books, Miss Ravenwood.” That’s all he gave me.
Okay then… I took a deep breath and held out my hand. My fingertips sparked purple and the class leaned forward, suddenly interested. They began to murmur so much, Masters snapped at them to be quiet.
“Close out all other sounds,” he said. “Focus on bringing your Light forward, then your intent.”
I felt the same spark that Wilder had coaxed out of me back at his safe house and the rush of power I’d felt at the Necropolis. They were one and the same, and before I realised what I was doing, a burst of Light flared out of my hand and Mr. Masters was flying across the classroom.
I slapped my hand over my mouth in shock as he managed to stop himself just short of slamming into the wall. He hovered there for a moment as the class burst out into fits of riotous laughter, then his feet touched the ground.
“That’s enough!” he bellowed. Then he turned his glare onto me. “Miss Ravenwood.”
I grimaced and offered him a confused shrug. “Sorry?”
“Clearly, we have more work to do with you than we first anticipated.”
“I’ll say,” Kayla quipped, causing the other students to snigger.
The Academy kitchen was just like the one at the Sanctum.
Long tables ran the length of the room, a mix of bench seats and chairs along either side, and at one end was a large buffet-style spread with a choice of hot and cold foods. Naturally, all of them were healthy options. There were no chicken nuggets or French fries in sight, but I’d already acclimatised to the sugar-free diet Wilder had assigned me when we’d first started training together.
I chose a garden salad with a side of grilled chicken and found an empty spot at the far end of the hall. What better place to observe teenagers in their natural pecking order than during feeding time at the zoo?
The cliques were all the stereotypical types, spread out over the four different class years. Junior, intermediate, advanced, and senior. There were the popular girls, the tough guys, the nerds, the outcasts, the trouble makers, that one guy all the girls had a crush on, and finally, the one who ruled them all. Kayla.
Rolling my eyes, I wondered if she was the one harbouring a little Human Convergence. Wouldn’t that be poetic?
Staring at my schedule, I realised my afternoon theory classes—demonology and history—were all with the junior and intermediates. Talk about a demotion. Thankfully, combat training was a solo affair with a new instructor. Wilder wouldn’t be teaching me at all and I wasn’t sure if I was happy about it.
Laughter drew my attention to a group of kids sitting a few spaces down from me. Looking at me, they whispered at each other before giggling again. They looked like they were all barely scraping up against puberty—twelve or thirteen, if I was going to guess.
“What?” I demanded, putting on my scary adult face.
“I, uh… We heard that your Light is purple,” the closest boy said.
“Is that true?” the girl next to him asked.
I narrowed my eyes and studied each of them. “Yes.”
“I knew it,” the boy hissed to the others.
“Why are you here?” the girl asked, becoming bolder. “You’re kind of old to be at school.”
“I only found out I was a Natural six months ago,” I replied, stabbing a slice of tomato with my fork. “I didn’t get the same education as everyone else.”
The boy pouted. “How could you not know?”
“My parents died when I was barely out of nappies.” I shrugged. “I fell into the foster system and all the stories you hear are true.” I made a face and went back to my salad.
“Is it true you were at the London Sanctum?” the boy asked.
I nodded.
“Have you seen the Codex?” the girl chimed in.
The boy’s eyes widened. “What’s it like?”
“It’s like a book.” A mystical, magical book—full of the complete history of the Naturals since the cataclysm—that cooked the unworthy from the inside out. The kids stared at me, unable to hide their disappointment. “It’s hard to explain,” I added. “It’s full of Light, and not like the copies they give us. There are hand-drawn illuminations, pages written by all the people you hear about in class, and it’s like… Well, it’s like it has its own mind. It knows things.”
“That’s what my sister said,” the girl stated. “She saw it once, you know.” She puffed out her chest proudly, her one degree of separation obviously meaning the world to her.
The students nodded enthusiastically and began to murmur amongst themselves.
Returning to my lunchtime snooping, I scanned the hall. The mean girls—Kayla, Trisha, and Maisy—were sitting on the opposite table, a few seats down. They were laughing and whispering, flashing flirty looks at the boys. Each wore the Natural uniform of black T-shirt and tactical trousers, which I gathered meant they were in for an afternoon of fight training.
“Have you seen the new combat instructor?” Maisy asked.
“Yes,” Kayla gushed. “He’s so hot.”
“Trent said he’s from the London Sanctum.”
“He was top of his class, apparently,” Kayla said matter-of-factly. “I can’t wait to learn from him.”
Trisha snorted and fanned herself. “Yeah right, learn.”
Kayla flipped her hair behind her shoulder. “He can spar with me anytime.”
“What’s his name?” Trisha asked.
Maisy fluttered her eyebrows. “Wilder.”
“Wild…” Kayla winked suggestively, and the group burst out into fits of giggles.
Swallowing a pile of vomit, I turned back to the rest of my chicken. I didn’t know how long we were going to be here, but I knew it was going to be a riot.
Thankfully the rest of the day went smoother, but the story of the new girl throwing a senior teacher across a classroom had spread far and wide.
Just wait until Wilder hears about it. I was already anticipating the relentless teasing.
Walking down the hall, I scanned my schedule, wondering when I had combat training. I was much better at fighting than taking notes.
“Hey, geriatric.”
I glanced up as the mean girl trio stalked past and rolled my eyes. Pfft, whatever.
My first day had been so hectic, I’d hardly had any time to keep an eye on the other students, and mine and Wilder’s mission was already becoming muddy. Hopefully, he’d had a better start, though I was glad to have some time apart. Maybe I’d become too reliant on him always being around. Clear head, clear heart and all.
Spotting Madeleine further down the hall, I started walking towards her. If anyone could give me the run down of who was who in this place, it was her. If I knew the status quo, spotting anomalies in behaviour would be easier.
Kayla slammed her shoulder into Madeleine’s and the goth girl’s books went flying. Papers skidded across the hall and laughter rang out as the mean girl trio walked away, whispering and glancing back at their victim.
My lips thinned in disapproval. Kids still did this petty shite to one another?
Madeline bent over to pick up her books, her hair falling forward to create a dark curtain covering her heated cheeks.
Other students merely stepped over her, no one lingered to help.
In that moment, I saw a lot of myself in her—the outcast, never fitting in anywhere. Too different to belong with the alternative kids. An easy target. Society’s stereotypical punching bag.
“Here, let me help,” I said, kneeling beside her. Scooping up the papers that’d fallen out of her folder, I held them out.
She eyed me warily, then tentatively plucked the notes from my hand. “Thanks.”
I smiled and held out my hand. “I’m Scarlett, remember? You dumped me at breakfast?”
“I know who you are,” she said, glancing at my hand. She didn’t make a move to take it and I pulled back awkwardly.
“Good. I was beginning to think I was forgettable.”
“How? You blew Mr. Masters across the classroom this morning.”
I snorted and covered my mouth with my hand to stop myself from laughing. Well, it was funny.
“That was an accident. He shouldn’t have stood in the line of fire.” I rose to my feet and dusted off my jeans.
“He wasn’t in the line of fire.”
The only way she could’ve known that was if she was there, but I didn’t remember seeing her. Was she that good at making herself small?
“I didn’t know you were in that class,” I said.
She stood and slid her books into her backpack. “No one knows I’m in any class.”
I frowned, knowing exactly why she did it. She didn’t want to make herself a target, Self-preservation, a strategy I was all too familiar with.
“It gets better, you know,” I said.
She lowered her gaze and I knew she was fighting back tears. “Everyone says that.”
“That’s because it’s true.”
“It doesn’t help me now, does it?” Her sadness turned to anger and she glared at me before stalking off.
Turning, I watched her disappear. Madeline was right. What happened now, would shape how she saw the world when she finally went out into it. I thought about Wilder and his surly attitude. Case in point.
But for a Natural, who’s sole job was to be a soldier of Light fighting the demon horde? I wasn’t sure it was a good thing.
4
The ceiling of my bedroom wasn’t that interesting. I lay on my bed, my mind utter chaos.
Outside, the sun was setting, the last rays of orange light filtered through the old wibbly-wobbly glass panels in the window. Holding the coin in the air, I turned it over and over, studying the markings.
The silver disc wasn’t large, maybe an inch in diameter with the thickness of a pound coin. One side had a sword in the centre, which I believed to be a representation of Arondight, and two symbols on either side, making four in total. On the other side was a crude impression of a flame and writing that snaked around the outside, following the curve of the coin. It was all worn, the metal somehow softened from being handled, and the words were almost illegible. What I could make out sounded like Latin, but without internet access, I couldn’t consult Google Translate.
The only place left where I could possibly find answers was the library.
Sighing, I rolled off the bed and went out into the hall. Moving into the common room, I found it empty. It obviously wasn’t the popular place to be at seven on a Friday night. Wherever the other teenagers hung out, I wasn’t invited… yet.
Determined not to be the person who moped in her shoebox bedroom, I wandered out of the dormitory and walked the length of the Academy. Moving into the parts I hadn’t seen yet, I finally came across the place I was looking for.
I hadn’t been shown the library on the tour Adelaide had given me, along with a lot of other hidden nooks and crannies I’d passed on the way here. With curiosity winning out, I pushed through the door.
I wasn’t expecting it to be so large—it dwarfed the space at the Sanctum. Sturdy bookshelves lined every available wall, and rows jutted out, each capped with brass plates and reference numbers. A bank of old-fashioned drawers housed a card catalogue towards one side—something I hadn’t seen since childhood. Caramel-coloured tables with green padded tops and green and gold lamps were clustered to the left, and a staircase led up to a second floor, where more bookcases stretched into infinity and beyond.
It smelt like a secondhand bookstore in here, mixed with the odd scent of furniture polish and peppermint. A chair creaked somewhere, someone coughed, and a book snapped shut. Glancing around, I noticed a few groups of students huddled over books and laptops, working on assignments. It was otherwise empty.
I wandered farther into the cavernous room, studying the glass display cases. They were full of rare books, Natural artifacts, weapons, arrowheads, jewellery, assorted coins, and magical relics that looked a lot like the runes Wilder and I had retrieved for the druidess.
The shadows here were long, and the silence too obvious for my liking. Magic and mystery were housed here, but it was hardly surprising considering where I was.
I stopped at the foot of the stairs, my gaze caught on an incredible sight. A full suit of armour with a sword in hand was displayed in the centre of the action, the warm lights shining off the metal.
I walked around the glass case that housed it, studying each intricate piece—coif, pauldron, greaves, and gauntlets. I didn’t know the names of other parts, but I had Jackson to thank for what little knowledge I did have. Some of the games he liked to play had complicated armour systems, though the armour in front of me was as real as real could be.
It looked like it’d been forged with a mixture of different materials, the blacksmith folding the molten metal over and over until the finish looked the way ink did when it swirled in water. The result was a tangle of a million shades of grey and silver.
The plaque at the bottom of the case diverted my attention. ‘This suit of armour is said to date back to the days of Camelot. Forged from a unique mix of cold iron, steel, and silver, it is believed to have been blessed by Merlin himself and intended to be worn into battle by Galahad, son of Lancelot.’
I studied the sword that’d been placed inside the case and narrowed my eyes. It had the look of Arondight as I’d seen it in the vision the Codex granted me, but it wasn’t the real thing. Somehow, I figured I’d know it when I finally saw it.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I looked up at the sound of a male voice, my heart leaping.
“The sword is said to be a copy of Arondight,” he added. “It’s not the real one, of course, but history tells us that Galahad was destined to wield it before it was lost.”
He looked to be in his mid to late twenties, which made him a teacher or at least a staff member of some kind. He looked a little rumpled with his shaggy black hair, long-sleeved collared shirt, and a paisley tie that was crooked and a little loose. His black-rimmed glasses had fallen down his nose and he pushed them back up, the movement drawing my gaze to his chocolate-coloured eyes. If cute and awkward—with a twist of Italian heritage—was a thing, that’s what this guy was. All the Naturals I’d met were glaringly Caucasian and British, but I was beginning to understand what a thousand years of evolution looked like.
“Oh, forgive me.” He smiled and fixed his tie. “I’m Aiden. The librarian.”
“You’re a little young to be a librarian,” I said, looking him over.
“You’re a little too old to be a student, but who’s judging?” He smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose again like it was a nervous habit.
“Does everyone know who I am around here?”
“Yes, unfortunately. That’s what happens when you make a debut as grand as yours, Miss Ravenwood.”
“Scarlett,” I said. “Just call me Scarlett. And what debut?”
I was expecting him to mention something about killing a greater demon or being touched by Arondight, or one of my many other reckless accomplishments since becoming a Natural, but he came out of left field.
“No one throws Masters across a classroom with their Light and escapes th
e gossip mill.” He smirked and nodded towards the armour. “Do you know much about our history?”
“I’ve been studying the Codex, but I’m afraid my head’s all muddied with all the human variations of the Arthurian legend.”
“Well, it’s not all love and betrayal,” Aiden explained. “No one remembers Arondight in the human stories—it’s all about Excalibur.”
“The Lady of the Lake gifted Arondight to Lancelot,” I said, remembering what I’d read in the Codex. “So if Galahad was supposed to wield it, it was meant to have been handed down through their bloodline, right?”
“You’ve been putting a lot of thought into it, haven’t you?” He looked impressed, which was a completely different reaction than I would’ve gotten from Wilder.
Shrugging, I twirled a strand of my purple hair around my finger. “I have a vested interest.”
His gaze moved to my hair and he smiled knowingly. “Ah, yes, of course.”
“You’re a librarian and a historian by the sounds of it,” I began. “What are your theories? What do you think happened to Arondight?”
Aiden’s eyes lit up and I knew I’d asked the right question. Ask a historian about their tinfoil hat theories and they could go on for days about it. Except, it wouldn’t be so outlandish now, would it? I’d come to expect anything from this world.
“Well, with Excalibur shattered and its power lost, the smart thing to do would’ve been to hide Arondight and keep its whereabouts secret. The less people who knew about it, the better. It only takes one possession for the demons to find a lead, and the world’s greatest hope is done for.”
The coin weighed heavily in my pocket. It was Greer’s secret society theory all over again. If Wilder was right and I carried a piece of Arondight inside me, then did that mean my parents put it there to keep the sword safe?
To move forward with my search, I needed to decode the symbols on the coin, but could I trust Aiden? If he was compromised by the heaviness Islington felt after the breach and had been altered by Human Convergence, then I could be screwing myself over before I even began. I had to be careful.
Dark Abandon Page 4