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

Jackson poked the troll doll with a finger, and it edged across the table between the salt and pepper shakers.

“Says the fully grown man wearing a T-shirt that says ‘I am not a geek, I’m a level nine wizard’.”

“Point.”

We’d ordered two English Breakfasts with all the trimmings and were currently inhaling it. Sausage, beans, fried tomato, chips, scrambled eggs, bacon, a side of toast, and a pot of tea. Each. It was the best cure for a rough night and went down a treat. Thank goodness for all day breakfast menus.

“So, have you changed your mind about wanting a birthday present?” Jackson asked, mopping up the sauce on his plate with a triangle of toast.

“Nope. You know I don’t like the pressure of gift giving… or receiving.”

“I thought it was more about your lust for minimalism,” he shot back with a grin.

“Mmmhmm,” I muttered, dabbing my lips with a serviette.

I glanced at a man sitting two tables away and did a double-take when I thought I saw his eyes shine silver. Kind of like the way an animal’s eyeballs reflected light in the dark. The second time, he looked like a normal dude out for a normal round of beans on toast from the local café. The man caught me staring and nodded, and I blinked before looking away.

Picking up a chip, I dipped the end into the beans and swirled it around, focusing on the troll doll. What are you supposed to be, Purples?

“Huh?” I asked, realising Jackson had been talking to me.

“I asked when you were working again.” He turned around in his chair, trying to see what’d caught my attention. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” I replied with a shrug. “I’m on Thursday. Shooter co-ops. My favourite night.” I rolled my eyes.

“Still can’t deal with them, huh?”

“Those games attract a certain kind of geek you and I both know full well doesn’t mesh with my sensible capabilities as a female.”

“Don’t be so prejudiced, Scarlett,” he said with a laugh before pinching one of my chips and stuffing it into his mouth. “I made most of my money playing Call of Duty, or have you forgotten?”

“You’re an anomaly.”

“Says the woman who liked Mass Effect Andromeda… the very game that ruined a perfectly awesome franchise.”

“The main guy in it was hot,” I complained.

“He was badly rendered. Like first gen console bad. I traded that game as soon as I could just to get it out of the flat. It was like the whole development team was possessed or something when they coded it—possessed or high, either one.”

“Pfft,” I hissed, shielding my plate from his sticky fingers. “I know what I like.”

He fell silent as I polished off the last of my breakfast, even eating the fried tomato I usually leave behind. I glanced at the troll doll again, narrowing my eyes. Purples… Where had I heard that before?

Black inky smoke… She sees me excise a demon and she’s worried that I know about her age?

The lane behind 8-bit! That’s where I saw the guy with silver eyes. The guy no one could see… Holy sh—

“So last night, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Jackson began, turning his empty tea cup around and around.

“That’s it!” I declared, almost falling out of my chair.

“That’s what?” His eyebrows knitted together and he shoved his hand through his unruly hair.

“I think I know what happened last night.” I began fossicking through my pocket for some change. I had to follow the clues, and then I’d figure it out.

“What?”

“Here,” I said, laying down a tenner and some pound coins on the table. “This ought to cover breakfast. Mostly…”

“You’re leaving?” Jackson asked, glancing from me to the money and back again.

“It’s important,” I replied, shrugging into my leather jacket and snatching up the troll doll. “I’ll be home later, okay?” Skidding to a halt by the door, I waved at him one last time. “I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

Not knowing exactly where I was going, I legged it to the bus stop, determined to find the man in the leather jacket. He’d done something to me and that guy he’d knifed, and none of it made any sense.

Spying the red double-decker turning the corner, I fished out my Oyster card. I had enough problems to deal with without some random stranger messing with my memories.

When the bus came to a stop, I jumped on, tapped my card, and climbed up to the upper level. What I didn’t want to think about was the fact that the mystery bad boy might not even be real, and all of this might be a hallucination created by my mental instability.

Sliding into an empty seat, I combed my fingers around the troll doll’s purple hair. There was only one way to know for sure.

Find the man and I’d find the truth.

4

The city was awash with artificial light, but darkness was never far away.

My boots thudded on the stairs as I exited Tower Hill tube station. The barriers squealed open as I slapped my Oyster card on the reader, and I was outside again. Overhead, the stars were obscured—by light pollution or clouds, I wasn’t sure.

Across the street, the Tower of London was lit up, looking ominous and out of place in the modern city. It was easy to forget how old London was with all the progress rushing by. Hints of its origins stuck out all over the place for those whose eyes were keen enough to notice it—a building, a tourist attraction, a sign bolted into a wall, the sudden appearance of a church and a matching graveyard between a Lidl and a Sainsbury’s.

The troll doll heated in my hand, drawing me past the castle-like structure that’d seen its fair share of death and drama. A bus zoomed past, lit up and full of passengers, and my hair whipped backwards. Man, it was freezing. Checking my phone, I saw it was almost eleven-thirty. I’d been walking all day, pinging from