Demon Bound: The Camelot Archive - Book One by R Nicole (love books to read .TXT) 📗

furious steps across the infirmary before I called out, “Trent?”

He turned, bracing for the impact of whatever barb he thought I was going to throw at him.

“I’m sorry. You’re only trying to help me and…” Heat filled my cheeks. I didn’t even know how to apologise properly.

“It’s fine,” he said with a sigh. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Unbidden tears prickled my eyes and I smiled. “Thanks.”

His expression softened and he nodded. “Get some rest, okay?”

“Sure.”

I watched him leave then sank back against the pillows and bit my lip to stifle a frustrated groan.

I had to control this thing before it ruined my life.

9

I twisted through the air, my staff following my movements.

The yard was empty, surrounded by low walls, and I was thankful for the solitude. It was a large space—around twenty by twenty metres with a sheltered alcove at one end—which made it perfect for its new inhabitants. What it used to be was a mystery, but it was now repurposed as a training space for the security team.

I escaped the infirmary as soon as I woke. Sharpening my skills was my happy place and right now, I needed all the happy I could get.

The staff was tipped with cold iron on both ends and counter weighed by a light stainless-steel haft. Smack a demon in the face with one of these, and the cold iron would burn its flesh. Not as effective as an arondight blade but handy, nonetheless.

I slammed the tip against the rubber training dummy in the chest, then turned and rapped the haft against its side. It vibrated back and forth under my assault, remaining annoyingly intact.

You’re so worried about the things that you can’t do, you’re blind to the things you can.

Elijah’s words echoed in my mind and my Light began to simmer. My arondight blade was heavy against my hip, a reminder of everything I’d worked for.

Naturals had relied on their swords to vanquish demons for almost a thousand years, but what if we didn’t need them? Maybe with focused training, we could develop our powers into something more. Maybe…

I called on my Light, shaping it as it grew, and pushed it into the staff. I struck the dummy, testing the limits of the energised weapon, but all it did was snap and pop against the ballistics rubber like it was a pathetic little bug zapper.

I was blind to the things I could do? I didn’t understand what Elijah meant.

I tried again, this time giving the staff a little more juice. Spinning, I arced the weapon around and slammed it into the dummy. The staff crackled and spluttered, and the little ball of demon inside me gurgled in response, almost like it was laughing at me.

Arsehole.

“What are you doing?”

I turned, closing my fist around my Light. Maisy stood a few paces away, watching me with a frown.

“Practising,” I replied as I set the staff against the wall.

She tucked her chestnut hair behind her ear. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure? I mean…” she stepped closer and lowered her voice, “the Dark captured you, Madeleine.”

“Maisy, they trained us to deal with those kinds of situations.” I looked her over and she flushed, more worried about it than I was—and I’d been the one locked in a cage. “Trent told you, didn’t he?”

“Don’t be mad at him, Madeline,” she replied. “He’s only trying to help.”

By telling her they tortured me with images of the bullying she’d been a part of? What part of ‘leave it in the past’ didn’t they understand?

Feeling a twist of anger rise inside me, I stilled and took a deep breath. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“So you’d rather push everyone away and be alone than work through the things that are hurting you?”

I sighed, wondering what I’d done to get all the attention. “You’re not helping by dragging up the past. Do you think I want to be reminded of all the horrible things I went through? There’s working through stuff, and then there’s constant torture.”

“Madeleine—”

“Just stop,” I hissed. “If you’ve got something to say to me to ease your guilt, then just say it. Don’t make it your mission to fix my life—which is just fine, by the way—to make yourself feel better. It doesn’t work that way, Maisy.”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I’m real sorry, okay?”

“Do you feel better?”

“A little.”

She stared at me, so I narrowed my eyes. “Anything else?”

“Thompson said you’re excused from patrol tonight.”

I shook my head. “You should have led with that.”

“Are we good, I mean—”

“Of course, we are,” I told her. “I know you’re only trying to help, but you’re just pressing the wrong buttons. I deal with things differently, that’s all.”

How did I reconcile the fact that my mutation might be the source of all my issues? It was a cruel joke to say the least.

Whatever this mutation was inside me, Ramona hadn’t detected it. No one had, even after it had been activated by those slimy ex-Camelot demons. I wondered what it meant. Was it just a natural evolution . . . or was it something more sinister?

If it was active, would it grow? If it messed with my Light, I’d have a serious problem on my hands—one I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep secret for long.

My problem was I had too many questions and not enough answers.

“I just…I want to look to the future and do something I’d be proud of,” I confided. “I don’t want my past to be the only thing I’m remembered for.”

Maybe Maisy could understand where I was coming from, being on her own redemption arc and everything.

She looked at the staff in my hands and then at the training dummy. “Do you want some company?”

I didn’t, but in the interest of rebelling against the status quo—the status quo being my internal friend—I nodded. “Sure. I won’t go easy on you, though.”

She smiled, the uneasiness of our earlier conversation forgotten. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

* * *

“We have to cut it out of her.”

My eyes cracked