He stared at me, his expression giving nothing away. I was an annoyance he didn’t want to deal with—he’d said it once and I could feel the words rising in the back of his throat again.
Scarlett Ravenwood, you are a broken toy nobody wants.
I cracked, then I turned sharply before he could see it on my face. I strode away from him towards the tube station, every step tearing through the life purpose I’d had for a full two minutes. New high score, Scarlett. It was fun while it lasted.
“Wait.”
I stopped, my heart beating double time.
“I can’t promise anything,” Wilder said behind me, “but I can take you to the Sanctum. The rest will be up to you.”
I turned, hope causing me to float. Metaphorically, that was.
He grimaced. “Don’t make me regret helping you, Purples.”
I shook my head. “You won’t.”
10
Wilder phoned it in. He literally took a mobile phone out of his pocket, called some unknown person, and said, “I’m bringing her back in.” Then he escorted me back to Battersea, making me walk the entire way.
“What do I say?” I asked as we walked down the lane towards the Sanctum.
“Don’t ask me,” he replied.
“Well, how does it normally go? You know, for all those kids who go off to train.”
“They’re asked if they want to be a Natural, they say yes or no, and that’s it.”
“That’s it?” I made a face. “That can’t seriously be it.”
“If you’re looking for the secret handshake, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there isn’t one.”
I sighed, my stomach churning.
“If you’re so hell-bent on becoming a Natural, just tell them what you told me,” he added. “Though I’d recommend turning around and going home. This life isn’t a picnic, Purples. It’s Hell on Earth.”
“If I go home, I’ll have to go back on my meds again.”
Wilder stopped and ran his hand through his hair. Cursing, he turned and glared at me. “Don’t pull that shit with me, got it? I don’t do manipulative ultimatums.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.” His eyes shone silver for a moment, then he blinked and they were clear again. “You don’t have to do anything, you know that? You’re not forced to drug yourself into oblivion. There are a million other things you could do, Scarlett. A million other things. There are people out there who aren’t so goddamn lucky.”
He had a point, but my only defensive manoeuvre at that moment was smart-arsery. “Who? Like you?”
He let out a frustrated grunt and turned. He stomped off, forcing me to borderline jog to keep up.
“What’s with your eyes?”
He didn’t answer, he just kept on striding down the lane.
“Wilder?”
“Shut up,” he hissed. I guessed our conversation was over then.
When we entered the Sanctum, two Naturals were waiting for us. They looked like Tweedledee and Tweedledum, they were so similar—black trousers, tight black T-shirt, matching boots, jackets, the whole kit. Must be their Natural uniforms. Black commando gear wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.
“They’re waiting for you in the library,” the man on the left declared.
They stepped forward, and I gathered they were my assigned escorts for the evening, but Wilder held up his hand.
“I’ll take her.”
“Our orders—”
“I know what your orders are and I’m relieving you of them,” he barked, sounding all authoritative.
The Naturals didn’t look too pleased, but they stood down and allowed us to pass.
Wilder led me through the Sanctum, his expression guarded. I still got that pissed off vibe from him, so I kept my mouth shut, not keen on repeating the reprimand he’d given me outside. At least not when I was about to pitch myself to three of the most intimidating and powerful people I’d ever met.
When we arrived at the library, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to see, but it wasn’t what I was presented with, not by a long shot. Maybe I thought there’d be a few beat-up computers and a squeaky metal carousel with a couple of new release books covered in clear contact paper. Oh, and a magazine rack full of dog-eared copies of Cosmopolitan and Glamour from 2004 and some scratched DVDs available to check out, and a few threadbare metal shelves with more contacted books donated from the local charity shop.
Yeah, it was nothing like that at all.
Ironically, the place smelt like old books. I wasn’t sure how to describe it, but it was like walking into a musty secondhand bookstore and stuffing your nose into the open pages of a yellowing Mills&Boon novel and inhaling—slightly crazy and mildly addictive.
Our boots tapped on the hardwood floors as we walked the length of the room, passing glass cases with artefacts sitting daintily on faded red velvet, and rows upon rows of shelving that went from the ground to ceiling, each shelf packed with books. Red, brown, and black leather-bound tomes of all shapes and sizes were lined up, some had writing on their spines while others didn’t. A window sat in each alcove on the left, and beyond, I could see the Battersea power station doused an orange hue.
Glancing in one of the display cases, I saw an array of taxidermied moths. Some were tiny little brown creatures, and there was one huge specimen that had creepy looking eyes on its wings. Shivering, I walked on, following Wilder right to the end of the library.
The rows of shelving ended, and the room opened up into a circular space. Above, another domed skylight topped the building, and within, the floor dipped into a circular depression. Three steps down and we were in a seating area with crimson leather couches and armchairs and rich crimson carpet underfoot. Around the walls were Greek columns, and sixteenth-century style portrait paintings of people in big puffy collars and pants, holding swords and riding rearing stallions.
I didn’t get a chance to study the library in more detail because Greer, Brax and Aldrich were waiting for us in the centre of the room. All the effort I’d gone to hold in my nerves and not puke into the nearest potted plant went straight out the window. My hands started to shake and I curled my fingers into tight fists—anything to look strong. I wanted to be a Natural and I gathered that meant a certain kind of tact when it came to shitting myself.
“Scarlett,” Aldrich said, his voice echoing in the cavernous space, “we didn’t expect to see you back.”
Neither did I at first, especially since I was livid at the fact that they’d dumped me so abruptly, but miracles happen.
“I’ve come to ask…” I glanced at Wilder, who shrank back into the shadows. “I want to fight. I want to be a Natural.”
They glanced between themselves so intently that I wondered if they could communicate telepathically.
“I’ve been through a lot in my life, not just the past two weeks,” I went on. “Finding this place, being tested for Light… All the things I’ve been struggling against my whole life has finally made sense. I can see clearly, you know? But I can’t do anything on my own. Since I left, I’ve been followed, harassed, and baited by demons. I can see them and there’s nothing I can do as I am now, but there is a way. I can learn to be a Natural. I can help you fight them. I can protect myself and others.”
“Being a Natural isn’t all glory,” Greer said. “It’s a gruelling way of life. We constantly battle Dark forces and risk painful death in pursuit of protecting the living from evil.”
“I understand,” I replied. “I don’t expect this to be easy.”
“There’s years of training involved,” Brax said. “Not only in combat techniques, but mastering Light, demonology, and studying the Codex.”
“Before you can even touch an arondight blade, you’ll be required to pass rigorous training,” Aldrich added. “It will be a long time before you’ll be ready to face the Dark as a Natural.”
“I get it,” I argued. “I get that I have a lot to learn. I get that I missed out on m
anifesting the way everyone else does. I get that I’m at a disadvantage. But I’m willing to work at it and put in what’s required.” I glanced at Wilder, who lingered in the shadows, his arms crossed over his chest. “If my parents were still alive, I’m sure I would’ve chosen this when I was meant to.”
“How do you know?” Brax asked, his skepticism clear.
“Because I know,” I declared, thumping my fist right over my heart. “Ever since I was brought into the Sanctum and I stopped taking those pills, I can feel it. My calling was taken the day I was orphaned. Now I see this place and the demons out there… and I know.”
Brax glanced at Greer, who stared at me unblinking. Whatever she was thinking was a mystery. There might be three people who led the Sanctum, but Greer was the one in charge. She guarded the Codex—the most sacred relic of the Naturals, after all. Aldrich was older and possessed his own brand of wisdom, Brax was a wall of strength and harsh judgment, but Greer was all those things and more. If she chose to overrule the others, I was sure they’d submit.
“Greer,” I said, fixing my gaze on hers, “why bring me in here and tell me all those things if you were just going to let me go? I don’t understand your Codex, but I want to. Isn’t that something?”
She didn’t respond, which caused my anxiety to rise.
“Are you ready to leave everything behind?” Aldrich asked in her stead. “Your friends, your job, your family?”
“I have no family. I…” I trailed off, my thoughts going to Jackson.
After all the disappointments, the multiple schools and foster families, countless friends who’d come and gone when I was too hard to deal with, he was the closest thing I had to a real family. He’d stuck around, no questions asked, and put in the effort to really know me. Could I leave him behind?
“You’re not suitable,” Brax stated. “Hesitation is an immediate fail.”
“What?” I glanced between the Naturals, shocked at Brax’s blunt answer. I wasn’t suitable?
“Hesitation is the mark of death,” Brax replied. “Those who wish to become Naturals must answer without pause.”
“I’m not allowed to think about it for even one second? Just one second to make sure that leaving my life behind is what I really want to do? You can’t allow me that?”
“That was a decision you should have contemplated before turning up here and wasting our time,” he said with narrowed eyes.
I glanced at Greer, who nodded her agreement.
“We are bound by the Codex, Scarlett,” Aldrich reminded me. “Being a Natural is a lifelong commitment. There’s a reason why we select children and don’t train adults.”
“You mean you get them while they’re young and impressionable,” I said, fuming, “before they can grow a mind of their own.”
“Yet more evidence to support your unsuitability,” Brax said, looking bored.
My mouth flapped uselessly as reality sank heavily on my shoulders. They didn’t want me. I was unsuitable. The word left a dirty taste on my tongue and my whole life stretched out before me—dark, empty, and plagued by demons I couldn’t ignore.
“Then give me something I can protect myself with,” I pleaded.
“We cannot,” Greer said.
“But I see them everywhere. They know me, Greer. They follow me, they taunt and harass—”
“That is their way,” she replied. “While they sense your Light, they won’t touch you.”
Somehow, I didn’t believe her.
“Wilder,” Aldrich raised his hand, summoning him into the light, “will you please escort Miss Ravenwood from the Sanctum.”
I wanted to shout at them, but I knew it’d only make me look even more desperate. I’d been rejected and knowing it’d happened in front of Wilder made it even more humiliating. I’d taken out that demon with Wilder’s arondight blade, and before coming back to the Sanctum I’d thought it was amazing I’d been able to do it at all, but now… My greatest victory was a footnote that hardly rated a mention to a Natural.
Wilder stepped forward and gestured for me to follow him from the library. Putting my head down, I stared at my feet as I left the room, humiliation colouring my cheeks an awful shade of crimson. It felt like I was doing the walk of shame right through the Sanctum and everyone was pointing and staring, laughing at how desperate I’d been.
“No hard feelings, Purples,” Wilder said. “Not everyone is cut out to fight the demonic scourge. You just don’t have the chops.”
“Did they have to be so cold about it?” I asked, fighting back tears.
“Tact isn’t their strong suit.”
He led me through a part of the Sanctum I’d never seen before. Dark, abandoned, and cold. It wasn’t until he opened a door that I realised I was being tossed out the back entrance where no one could see me. I didn’t know if I should be offended or relieved.
“Go out here, turn right, then you’ll see the Thames,” he said. “Bye, Purples.”
I stepped outside, the icy winter night cutting right through me. Before I could turn around, the door slammed closed, causing me to flinch. The sound echoed around the cold, dark street, one hell of a punctuation mark on my failed life.
If I couldn’t be plain Scarlett Ravenwood or a Natural, then who was I meant to be? Turning right, I walked down the street, my extremities as numb as my heart. The Thames came into sight and I almost felt like throwing myself in. Almost.
I wandered through Battersea, then across the river, lost and alone. I felt an existential crisis coming on and there was nothing I could do about it. Other than come to terms with my mediocrity.
Stopping by the Tate Britain museum, I sat on the steps and shivered, shoving my hands into my pockets. My breath came out in white plumes, vaporising in the chilly air. My fingers curled around the troll doll and I sank into my depression like I was wriggling in a pit of quicksand.
Taking it out, I stared at its ironic little face and scowled. Its purple hair was all messed up and I combed my fingers through it, fashioning the tuft into a point. It wasn’t of any use anymore—Wilder had taken the spell off it—and all that remained was the reminder of the first time I felt truly special… until it was taken away.
C’mon, Scarlett, I thought to myself, it isn’t like you to throw a pity party. Get up, you sad sack. Get up and move forward.
With a heavy heart, I set the troll doll down on the step beside me. Standing, I smoothed down my jacket, straightened my jumper, then went home.
What else was a girl to do?
11
I sat on a chair in the middle of the packed O2 arena in Greenwich, London, a scowl permanently etched on my face.
Playing absently with the lanyard around my neck, I watched as an advertisement for a game company Blizzard Entertainment flashed on the big screen. Men and dwarves in suits of armour, elves with impossibly long pointy ears, and gnomish creatures wearing goggles fought against one another, summoning all kinds of computer-generated magic. It only soured my mood further.
You just don’t have the chops. What? I didn’t make the cut simply because I cared about my friends? What a steaming pile of—
“Scarlett! There you are.”
I glanced up—my arse numb from the plastic seat—and forced a smile for Jackson as he appeared through the crowd. I never knew how… populated these things were. It wasn’t just a row of computers and PS4s lined up along a wall. No, it was a full-on stadium packed with the latest bells and whistles. Exhibits and stalls from all the big gaming companies, testing areas where you could go and play the latest pre-release titles in beta mode, areas where you could meet the developers, and there were even cosplay competitions. The big draw card was the tournaments, which played out on the main stage with MC commentary and post-game interviews. It was an eye-opener, for sure.
“I’m in the finals!” he declared.
“What?” I exclaimed. “That’s amazing!”
“Yeah, I’m up against Zero Remorse, so the odds of me winni
ng are slim. He’s like the best in the world.”
“Wait… the guy’s name is Zero Remorse?” I snorted and stifled a laugh. “Are you serious?”
“That’s his gamer tag,” Jackson retorted, rolling his eyes.
“Couldn’t he think of anything less… dorky?”
“Scarlett!”
“Okay, okay.” I waved him off. “What’s the prize this time?”
“First place is a million pounds and a sponsorship deal, and the runner up gets a hundred thousand pounds.”
My mouth fell open, but not before I almost choked on my tongue. “A million pounds? Holy shite!”
“Either way, it’s a guaranteed one hundred k!” He rubbed his hands together. “So when do you want to go?”
“Go where?” I frowned.
“To Aruba.”
“Oh…” I trailed off and shook the cobwebs out of my brain.
In the two weeks since my utter humiliation at the hands of the Naturals, I’d been walking around in a daze. Most of it was my struggle not to fall into a shame spiral, and as a result, I’d been the worst friend in history. Total self-absorption, forgetfulness, that sort of thing. Jackson had been busy preparing for today’s tournament, so he hadn’t noticed most of what was going on, and the things he did, he’d put down to my adjusting to life without medication to control my mood.
Wilder was right about that part—I’d been using the excuse of going back on my meds as a snide tactic to worm my way into the Sanctum. I hadn’t consciously realised I’d been doing it, but a part of me must have. I didn’t want to earn my ‘chops’ with manipulation.
Jackson looked so happy, and he should be. He was one match away from changing his life forever. I should be right there with him, not sulking on the sidelines.
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