Dark Descent

by Nicole R. Taylor

  Things seemed too unresolved and empty, and I couldn’t shake the feeling. I didn’t know anything about the mysterious Balan demon who’d appeared in my memory of my parents’ death, nor did I understand what it meant to have Light. The only thing that’d happened since leaving the Sanctum was me developing one heck of a trust issue, but that was nothing new. Only the levels had changed from human arseholery to full-blown demonic.

  It was tough not having anyone to talk to about it. I was itching to tell Jackson about the fact that my parents might’ve been Naturals, or at least have Light they passed to me, but he didn’t remember anything. When he’d woken up that morning, he was back to his usual perky self, chattering about some big gaming tournament that was coming up. They’d wiped him clean like a whiteboard, while I was stuck with the permanent marker.

  What got me was the fact that they didn’t seem to care I might’ve been attacked by a demon as a child. They’d kicked me out rather fast. I wonder why that was?

  “Scarlett.”

  I jumped a mile when a hand tugged at my wrist. Spinning, I almost collided with Jackson.

  “Don’t do that!” I exclaimed, clutching the dirty glasses against my chest.

  “You were staring off into space again,” he stated.

  “Huh?” I ducked as the papier-mâché angel came back for round two.

  He glanced around and tugged me to the side of the room. Princess Peach smiled down at us from the spray-painted mural on the wall and the glasses in my arms teetered wildly.

  “I was just checking to see if you were…” He gave me a look that was all creased forehead and narrowed eyes.

  “You have to be more specific,” I declared. “I don’t speak fluent pointed looks.”

  “Well, you’ve been acting a little strange lately,” he declared, glancing around again. “You ran out of here the other night, and you ran out on me at breakfast.” Was that sweat beading on his forehead? “Scarlett, have you stopped taking your meds?” he added, keeping his voice hushed, even though no one had any chance of overhearing us with the music at the volume it was.

  I felt the blood drain from my face and it took everything I had to hold onto the glasses. Of course, he thought I was on the slow decline into insanity. He didn’t remember anything about the Naturals or the things I’d told him on the way home about my test results. He still believed I was regular old Scarlett Ravenwood. Honestly, I was still debating that fact myself.

  “I…” I fumbled and looked over my shoulder. I didn’t want to lie to my best friend, but maybe this was one of those moments I had to—for his safety and mine.

  “I know.” He looked like he was about to have me committed.

  “What do you mean, you know?” A pang stabbed me in the gut and a little piece of me hoped he’d remembered our adventures. It was selfish because he was far better off not knowing about the time he was possessed by a demon. Especially when I involuntarily saw his willy in a prelude to you know what.

  “Your pills didn’t flush all the way down the loo.”

  I groaned and rolled my eyes. The first thing I’d done after we’d scoffed down those kebabs was lock myself in the bathroom and dumped my meds into the toilet and flushed. The water pressure was obviously on the fritz if a few of the suckers had stuck around in the cistern.

  “I don’t need them anymore,” I stated.

  “Who told you that? A doctor?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.” I pouted and turned on my heel, weaving through the crowd. The beer glasses got heavier in my arms like it was some kind of analogy for the string of lies I’d have to tell my best friend from now on.

  “I don’t know what kind of crackpot you saw,” Jackson said, clearly not done with his well-intentioned intervention, “but it’s clearly not helping.”

  “Jackson, I’m fine,” I said as I put the stack of glasses down on the bar. My melancholy was less to do with the medication and more to do with the world being infiltrated by demons. “I know you’re just trying to look out for me, but I’m cool.”

  He gave me a disbelieving look and ran his hand through his hair.

  “This is something I’ve gotta try, okay?” It was my turn to give him a pointed look. “I’ve been struggling with this my whole life, and I don’t want to rely on those pills forever. I don’t want to become dependent, and if there’s a way to cope without them, I have to try it.”

  He pursed his lips but nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said as he was jostled by an overenthusiastic Overwatch character. “I’ve gotta practice in the morning for that tournament, but I’m free after that.”

  “The thing at the O2 arena?”

  “The one and the same. If I win, we’re going to Aruba.”

  “Aruba?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know where it is, but everyone always says they’re going there in the movies.”

  I laughed and shooed him away. Leaving the glasses for the staff out back to clean, I went out into the pub for another pass. I didn’t mind the nights I was out on bussing duties, it saved my vocal cords from being screamed raw and my feet were actually less numb after my shift. It did put me into the direct firing line of all the drunk weirdos, but the positives outweighed the negatives.

  Dodging a table, I spied a few glasses that’d been dumped on the windowsill. Sighing, I made a beeline for them, but knocked my shoulder against someone who’d danced their way into my stratosphere.

  “Excuse me,” I muttered, holding up my hands.

  The man-boy stopped and stared, making me squeamish. He was wearing a costume of some anime character I didn’t recognise. He’d put on a blue synthetic wig, school boy uniform, and held a giant foam sword. The bouncers loved those, not. They were constantly checking the clientele for concealed weapons. Mostly they were plastic and rubber, but occasionally people had lifelike replicas. That was another story of stupidity I didn’t want to get into.

  He bumped into me again and smiled when I glanced up. If he was about on hit on me, then this was so not the way to go about it. He wasn’t exactly dressed for seduction.

  “Hi,” he said, his gaze meeting mine.

  I tensed when I saw his completely white eyes. He might’ve been wearing a pair of coloured contact lenses for all I knew, and the lighting in here wasn’t that great since we were running a club night. Saturday brought out all the cosplayers, gamer geeks, and left of centres for a night of getting off their faces. Contact lenses were part of the illusion, which didn’t help now that I knew demons were roaming about.

  “Can I help you?” I shouted over the music.

  “Do you work here?” the guy asked, smirking strangely.

  I wanted to put it down to him being socially awkward because I knew all about that, but since my trust quota had shorted out days ago, I just shrugged.

  “Cool hair,” he said, reaching out.

  I jerked backwards. “Look, I’m busy here and I’m not interested, okay? You’re not my type.”

  “What are you interested in?”

  “Uh, men?” I made a face and started to turn away. That’s when he curled his fingers around my wrist. “Let me go, or I’ll have security forcibly remove you.”

  “I’d like to see them try.”

  Wrenching my arm away, I edged towards the bouncer who was scanning the crowd. Raising my hand, I waved.

  “We know you can see us, Scarlett,” the guy drawled, his voice rasping. “We’re watching.”

  My heart dropped, and my breathing stalled. For a full five seconds, I was positive I’d died from shock until he tried to grab me again.

  “That’s enough of that.” The bouncer appeared from the midst of the flashing strobe lights and grasped the blue-wigged guy around the scruff of the neck. “You’re out of here, you little shithead. No grabbing the staff.”

  The guy laughed as he was dragged through the startled crowd and blew me a kiss. Punters on the dance floor parted, lett
ing the pair through, while I stared after them. I was shell-shocked. Did that just happen? First there was that creepy lady at the kebab shop and now…

  “Scarlett!” Jackson pushed through the crowd and stood in front of me, attempting to protect me from the danger that’d already passed. It won him points, though, always did. “Are you okay? Who was that guy?”

  “Just a dweeb that got handsy,” I said, watching as the bouncer shooed the blue-haired demon down the street. “He was off his face.”

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” He picked up my hand and began to examine my arm.

  “It happens.” I shrugged him off.

  “Wow, what an arsehole. If I had of seen him—”

  “You would’ve gotten your lights punched out,” I said with a snort.

  “By that guy?” Jackson waved his arms wildly.

  “I’ve never seen you punch anyone, like ever.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I could, you know.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  Gathering the glasses from the windowsill, I stared outside, scanning the street. Busses flashed past on the High Street, people were walking back and forth, a cluster of police wandered through the shuttered market stalls, and a street vendor was selling baked pretzels from a little cart on the corner. It was a typical Saturday night in Camden Town.

  I didn’t catch a glimpse of a blue wig, which to be honest, wasn’t much of a relief. I’d seen how that black smoke puffed about, so there was no telling where it’d puffed off to.

  What was a girl to do? Picking up the dirty glasses, I turned back to the insides of 8-bit. Get back to work, that’s what.

  After my first shift back at 8-bit, after what I was dubbing ‘the incident’, I opened a note on my mobile phone and began to document any demon encounters and sightings.

  I wasn’t sure why since it wasn’t like I could rock up to the local police station and hand it over as evidence, but maybe it had something to do with control. I couldn’t protect myself, the Naturals had dumped me without any knowledge on how, so all I had was my own two eyes.

  I saw a demon every day. Sometimes I caught two. There was one on the bus, holding the railing like any other commuter. He’d even gave his seat to an elderly man who’d climbed on at Regent’s Canal. There was another in the dairy section of Sainsbury’s comparing cherry and blueberry yogurts. I brushed by another in the market. When Jackson and I went to see the new Marvel movie at the Odeon Cinema, there was one sitting two rows down and five seats across.

  They didn’t always see me, but when they did, they smirked like they knew a big secret that I didn’t. They never approached, not after that guy tried to grab me at 8-bit, and didn’t attempt to harm me. It was almost like they were following my every move and wanted me to know it. Psychological warfare.

  After the man who worked in the Off-license made a lewd gesture at me while his eyes rolled and his teeth snapped, I had to suppress the urge to Google exorcisms. I was at my wits’ end.

  I was standing outside of Camden Town tube station, the wintery night chilling me through my leather jacket, when I decided I had to go back. My first thought was of Wilder and the way he’d just disappeared after all that trouble he went through to get me away from Romy to have five minutes to talk. He’d argued with Greer about being present for my test. Then… he’d just dumped me.

  I was angry, hurt, and pissed off. I was all the things I should’ve been when I was still inside the Sanctum.

  “I can’t do this shit anymore,” I muttered to myself.

  Pulling the troll doll out of my jacket pocket, I held it in my palm. Its plastic face smiled its cheesy grin, its painted eyes stared blankly back at me. Curling a finger around the tuft of purple hair, I thought about Wilder. Was he on the prowl tonight? I shivered as his image came to mind.

  C’mon, I silently urged the toy, Lead me back to him again. Just like you did last time, you little heat-seeking missile. I held it for so long, the only heat it generated was from my hands.

  I wasn’t ready to give up though, so I scanned my Oyster card and descended down into the tube, retracing the route I’d taken when I’d first searched him out. I walked down laneways, I circled museums and galleries, I went to an antique bookstore in Soho, I passed the stage door of a theatre in the West End, I crossed a church cemetery, and traipsed the Tower Bridge. I stomped by the Tower of London but I never once caught a glimpse of the elusive Wilder.

  I did see more of my white-eyed friends, though.

  They were dancers at the theatre, shadowy figures traversing laneways, an elderly woman on the tube, the priest at the church, a random person passing me on the bridge. They were everywhere, and the Naturals were nowhere to be seen.

  The longer I wandered, the clearer it became that whatever spell Wilder had put on the troll doll was long gone.

  What was the point? I sighed, my eyes brimming with unshed tears. I’d never be a part of anything, always a victim, never winning, just holding my head above water, waiting for the wave that’d finally drag me under.

  Wandering down the street, I realised I was approaching a familiar location. The Hung, Drawn, and Quartered stood before me, a shining beacon of warmth in the icy darkness of my self-pity.

  I’m going in there, I thought. I’m going in there and if he’s not inside, I’ll just get something to drink and maybe something to eat. Then I’ll go home. I’ll go home and fill my prescription tomorrow. It would be better to forget than to deal with not being able to control my own safety. If I was on my pills again, then the demons would leave me alone. Seemed logical.

  Stepping into the pub, I scanned the tables, searching for the familiar leather jacket and messy hair that belonged to Wilder. Déjà vu shivered down my spine as my fingers coiled around the troll doll. He wasn’t there, but I could feel him. Taking another step, I lingered, my gaze finding a form I recognised.

  He was leaning against the bar, his shoulders slumped. Raising his beer glass, he threw his head back as he downed the last sliver of brown liquid, then slammed it back down. Nodding at the bartender, he turned, then froze when he saw me staring at him.

  “Took you long enough,” he drawled.

  Nothing had changed about him. He was still wearing his leather biker jacket, worn jeans, tight black top, and gruff smirk.

  “I see them everywhere,” I replied, blurting out the first thing I could think of. “At the supermarket, on the bus, where I work.”

  He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. Grasping my arm, he wrenched me around and practically dragged me out of the pub and onto the street.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” he said, his voice low and threatening.

  “Let me go!” I pulled out of his grasp and shoved him.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, Purples.”

  “I have no way to protect myself. I can’t fight them, they follow me everywhere, I want…” I swallowed hard, “I want to be one of you.”

  I didn’t realise it until that moment that wanting to fight meant joining the Naturals, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew. I’d never felt that kind of conviction before. Always drifting, always just existing pay day to pay day, always lacking a purpose. I wanted to fight.

  I wasn’t on any medication, so I figured my Light would have a chance to manifest properly. If I had access to it, then maybe I could do something. The way the arondight blade had clicked into place in my hand had been exhilarating and the more I dwelled on it, the more I wanted to feel it again. In that moment, I’d been powerful and for someone who’d always struggled her way through life, it was everything.

  “You want to be one of us?” Wilder mocked. “More than human?”

  “I think we already established the fact that I already am.”

  “We train from birth to become Naturals.” He turned his back on me and started to walk away. “It’s too late for you. Go home, Purples.”

  It was a slap in the face. One minute I was told I was
special, the next he said it didn’t matter. The old Scarlett would’ve swallowed her tears, tried to hide her embarrassment, and melt away, but I wasn’t her anymore. Not after the moment I’d seen a demon stalk me in the lane behind 8-bit.

  “It’s too late for you to grow a heart, Wilder, but it’s not too late for me to learn to fight,” I shouted. “When I couldn’t tell you people what you wanted to hear, you dumped me on the street like I was trash, and I’m here to tell you I won’t stand for it.”

  Tearing the troll doll out of my pocket, I threw it at him with all the strength I could muster. It slammed against his back and fell to the ground, tumbling over and over until it came to a rest by his boot.

  Wilder stopped dead in his tracks and turned. His expression was made up of pure anger, and his eyes flashed silver.

  “Take me to see them,” I said, determined not to let him intimidate me.

  “You really are a piece of work,” he muttered.

  “Takes one to know one.”

  He hissed through his teeth and raked his hands through his hair. “I need to find a new drinking spot.”

  “And I’ll just find that one and the next and the next. If that doesn’t work, I’ll just go to the Sanctum myself.”

  “They won’t let you in, Purples. The moment you cross the threshold, you’ll just be in an old factory with a flock of pigeons that’ll shit on your head. You can’t just walk in and make demands.”

  “They know me,” I said, recalling what the demon at 8-bit had said. “They know my name, they know where I work, and they know I can see them. Either I fight back or—”

  “Or?” Wilder prodded, daring me to voice my ultimatum.

  “Or I go back on my meds.” I shook my head and glanced away. “That way I’ll block out my Light for good. Without it, I can’t see them. Maybe in time I’ll forget you even existed.”

  “You’d give up your Light?” He looked shocked, like I’d suggested amputating a limb.

  “I never knew I even had it!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands into the air. “Even if I did, they told me it’s blocked. By the meds or whatever, who the hell knows? But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m being stalked by demons in the supermarket. At the produce section of the supermarket, Wilder.” I sighed for what felt like the billionth time that day. “If I can’t fight, then what have I got?”