Dark Descent: The Arondight Codex - Book One by R Nicole (best books to read all time TXT) 📗

“You’re impossible and batshit crazy, Purples. Everyone knows you’re supposed to run away from danger, not run directly at it!”

Standing there, completely stunned, I realised no one was even looking at the bloody scene that was unfolding outside of 8-bit. In a city that’d seen its fair share of tragedy because of these kinds of attacks, I was shocked. Nobody cared. Nobody cared because… I gasped as a wave of nausea smacked me in the gut. Nobody could see them.

“What’s happening? Am I going crazy?” I whispered, glancing nervously at a group of people walking past.

“I’m standing over a dead body on the street and you’re asking me? Get a grip, Purples.”

He was playing with me. He was a manifestation of my inner demons. The memories I’d locked away and refused to deal with were finally pushing me over the edge. Was this what was like to go totally insane?

Bad Boy grasped my wrist and pulled me into the lane beside the pub. This looked familiar, too.

“What are you?” he asked.

“I’m…” I didn’t know how to answer his question. I was Scarlett Ravenwood, messed up bartender. It didn’t get simpler than that.

“Like I said, impossible.”

“What are you then?” I shot back at him. “Are you a terrorist?”

“Am I a…” He snorted and shook his head. “Looks like you need a stronger dose.”

Before I could fight back, he’d grasped my face in his big hands and held me steady. His silver eyes flashed and I squirmed, trying to pull away, but he was far too strong for anything I tried to make a difference. He was going to drug and kidnap me. I’d wake up tomorrow locked in some sick and twisted bunker in the middle of the ghetto where no one would hear me scream as he chopped me into little pieces and mailed them to Jackson.

“Go home,” he said firmly. “Go home and forget you ever saw me. Forget everything you saw tonight.”

Warmth spread through me and my limbs relaxed. He was so dreamy…

3

“Mummy!”

I sat up in bed, my chest heaving. Glancing around the room, I wiped the sweat off my forehead as my bedroom came into focus. I knew I’d been dreaming, but of what, I wasn’t quite sure.

I gasped, drawing in breath after breath, my limbs feeling like they were filled with lead. My head didn’t feel much better.

Memories were like icebergs floating in an ocean of darkness. Only a little peeked above the surface, while the core stretched into the depths of the inky black of the unknown. Sometimes they caught me unaware, smashing into my psyche and threatening to tear me apart like the hull of the Titanic. Other times, I was able to swim around them and let them drift off into the blackness until they inevitably floated back into my path. They were always there, and that was the problem.

The room was dark. The blinds were drawn, but light creeped in around the edges, casting a murky glow over my minimalistic design choices. I hated stuff. Furniture, knick-knacks, more than one pair of shoes. Three years later, and I was still using a suitcase as a makeshift wardrobe and my mattress was on the floor without a base.

Breathing deep, I shook off the confusion of my dream. I was in reality. I was sitting here. I was in my bedroom in Jackson’s flat in Camden. Wait… I didn’t remember coming home. I didn’t remember finishing work at 8-bit last night, either.

Turning, I grasped for my mobile phone. It was on the floor, plugged into the charger like always. I hadn’t had anything to drink last night, did I? It’d been my birthday, and I usually preferred to forget those, so it wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibilities. My head throbbed, so maybe I was hung over.

My fingers brushed against my phone and then hit an unknown object. I picked it up and made a face. It was a troll doll dressed in a tiny leather jacket and trousers. I stared at the ugly plastic toy and stroked the purple hair into a point. Where the hell did this come from?

Purples…

I shook my head and rubbed the grit from my eyes. Man, I felt like shit warmed over.

Knocking at the door roused me.

“Scarlett?” Jackson called. “Are you in there?”

“Yeah,” I replied, leaning back against the wall.

“I’m coming in…” The door opened slowly, then Jackson’s head appeared through the crack. “Is it safe?”

“Of course it’s safe,” I snapped, my temples throbbing. Ugh, my brain felt like it was trying to claw its way out of my skull.

“Just making sure you hadn’t brought back any, uh… conquests.”

“Puke!” I exclaimed. “I don’t believe in one-night stands.”

“There’s a first for everything,” he said sullenly, drawing the blinds.

The room filled with bright morning light and I shielded my eyes. I guess I deserved the rude awakening, even though I couldn’t remember what I’d done. The mattress dipped in front of me as Jackson sat, his shoulders hunched forward. He smelt of soap and aftershave—clean Jackson smells. I probably smelt like something dead.

“What happened to you last night?” he asked, his brow creased. “You rushed out of 8-bit like your arse was on fire, then you didn’t come back. At all.”

I shrugged, knowing I should get up and drink some water and find something to take for the pain. The troll doll stared up at me, looking impossibly happy with its tiny plastic smile. Even it was mocking me and it was an inanimate object.

“I was worried about you, Scarlett,” Jackson went on. “You were acting real strange. Are you—”

“Am I off my meds?” I shot at him with a scowl. “No, I’m not, thank you very much.”

He flinched slightly and pushed his glasses up his nose. “You know I had to ask.” Plucking the toy from my hand, he said, “Hey, a troll doll.” Holding it up he smirked. “It looks like you.”

“Shut up.” I snatched it back and let it fall to the floor.

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