Dark Descent
The Arondight Codex - Book One
Nicole R. Taylor
Dark Descent (The Arondight Codex - Book One) 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
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
The Arondight Codex
About Nicole
VIP Newsletter
Dark Illusion (The Arondight Codex - Book Two)
More by Nicole
1
“Scarlett, you have to hide, okay?”
I stared up at my mummy, my bottom lip trembling.
“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 my hair and smiled. “You’re so brave, sweetie.”
I whimpered as she closed the lid of the big black metal box I was sitting in. I curled up in the dark, thrust my thumb into my mouth, and started to suck. Mummy looked scared, I thought. But Daddy is with her. Daddy is a hero. Everyone says so.
The sound of banging and muffled voices echoed from outside the box, and I began to cry as my hiding place shuddered, then lay still.
“Mummy?” I called out, my voice barely a whisper. When she didn’t answer, I tried again. “Mummy?”
The lid of the box opened, and I cowered in the corner as a man appeared. He stood over me, smiling. I didn’t know who he was, but he looked mean.
“Here she is,” he said to someone I couldn’t see. “C’mon, sweetheart.” He reached out and grasped me under my arms, then plucked me from my hiding place.
As I was lifted out of the box, I saw Mummy and Daddy lying on the ground. They were covered in red stuff, and their eyes were open like they were staring at the sky. They didn’t blink, not even once.
“Mummy!” I shrieked, fear rising in my belly. “Daddy!”
“Shut up, you little brat,” the man growled, his eyes rolling into the back of his head until only the whites showed. “They’re dead, and you will be too if you don’t be quiet.”
“No!” I screamed, not understanding how my four-year-old mind knew dead meant forever.
The man’s hands dug painfully into my sides as he shook me. “Shut up, you little shit!”
I screamed in terror and squirmed in his arms, trying to get away from the scary man.
“Stop it,” he said, his voice sounding strange. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
I thrashed harder, and he dropped me, my backside landed painfully on the ground. The man towered over me, his eyes glowing red and his jaw opened wide, exposing rows upon rows of scary, sharp teeth.
“I warned you,” he said, reaching out with his clawed hand.
I screamed as a flash of purple light enveloped everything.
* * *
I blinked, shaking off the unwanted memory that I’d always assumed was of my parents’ death. I don’t know what had happened after the man had dropped me—the recollection always stopped there.
Steadying myself against the bar, I took a deep breath and glanced around the pub. Twenty years later, and I still didn’t know what any of it meant, let alone whether any of it was real.
It was quiet today, and my shift had been agonisingly slow, which probably accounted for the daydreaming. More like day-nightmaring, I thought.
Arcade games were flashing and beeping in the back, retro tabletop games lit up a bank of tables in front of the bar, and the wall behind me was bright with LED pixelated video game characters. A graffiti-style mural of the pub’s logo was on the opposite side, surrounded by more characters, though I recognised these—Mario, Yoshi, Donkey Kong, and that mushroom guy, Toad.
8-bit was a gamer pub—a place grownups went to pretend to be adults while really they wanted to relive their days in front of their Commodore 64s. Video games upon video games, alcohol, the entire city’s nerd population, and a constant stream of tourists. What could go wrong?
Nestled deep within the markets in Camden Town, London, 8-bit was a part of the alternative mecca of the city. You could find anything at the markets. Black-lit raver shops with furry day-glo leg warmers, poufy rockabilly dresses with cherries and swallows on them, Asian food by the wok-ful, leather handicrafts, vintage markets, goth and cyberpunk fashion, and punks. Lots of punks with scarily big mohawks. With my unnatural purple-tinged locks, scarred mentality, and love for tight black jeans and combat boots, I fit right in.
I slumped against the counter, my chest constricting. Luckily for me, only a few people were in the pub and they were all engrossed in a tabletop game and hadn’t seen my mini-meltdown.
I tried to fight it, but I inevitably broke out in a cold sweat. Striding down the bar, I dodged a worried-looking Shannon in my desperation to get outside while not looking like a freak in the process.
“Hey, Shannon,” I called out on my way past, “I’m going outside for some air. Can you watch the bar for a sec?”
“Scarlett, are you okay?” she asked. “You look a little sick.”
“I just need some air.”
Not waiting for her reply, I wove past the kitchen and pushed out the rear door and into the lane. Cool air brushed against my face and I breathed deeply, doing my best to calm the wave of terror that haunted my every step.
I wasn’t surprised to find that it’d darkened pretty quickly out here. Winter was like that in this part of the world. Four in the afternoon, and the sun was already well behind the row of buildings across the street, and the lane at the rear of the pub was cast in inky shadow, apart from the orb of light I was standing in.
Pressing my palms against my
