Dark Illusion, page 18
part #2 of Arondight Codex Series
A strange sigil had been chiselled into the floor and Wilder edged around it, studying the markings. They swirled and swooped in a large circular pattern, though what it was for, I didn’t know. It couldn’t be anything good, considering it appeared to be filled with congealed blood.
Ugh, it was so gross.
Some kind of altar was at the far end of the hollow. A mess of melted red candle wax dripped from candelabras made from bone fragments and a dagger lay across the surface.
It wasn’t only gross, it was creepy, too.
“I knew you’d come…Naturals.”
We turned at the sound of a hollow voice, both of us readying our arondight blades. He stood in the opening we’d just walked through, cold and menacing.
Markzoth.
He looked like an ordinary man, all signs of his Frankenstein body hidden underneath an impeccable suit and tie, but his eyes were hollow and black. Nothing shone behind them but Darkness, and the stench of pure evil rolled off him in waves. Cold, calculating, and intent on one thing—the total annihilation of the human race.
The Balan looked at Wilder and raised his hand. I felt the Darkness a split-second before the demon unleashed it.
“Wilder!” I reached for him, but we were dragged apart by a blast of searing energy.
Wilder’s body was wrenched into the air, his limbs flopping uselessly. Crying out, I felt his Light flare as he fought against the Balan, but it wasn’t enough.
My knees collapsed underneath me and I fell in a heap on the ground, unable to move, assaulted by a blast of Darkness forced in my direction.
Wilder grunted in pain as he was flung into the air, his arondight blade skidding across the hollow. I tried to move, but my body wouldn’t respond. My limbs were frozen solid, and I began to panic.
Wilder jerked and the Darkness twisted around him like a hungry snake. He was suspended as if he were hanging from a noose, the tips of his boots barely scraping the ground.
I was beginning to understand why the war between the Light and the Dark had been going on for a thousand years. We were fools to think we could face a greater demon and win. Dumb luck had allowed us to destroy his body, but now… We were in Markzoth’s lair, and all the power of this place was in his control.
Crying out, I fought against the Darkness that was paralysing me. I writhed, tearing and twisting, but my body wouldn’t respond. It was a strange sensation, and frustrating as hell. My anger rose, hashing at the force binding me, and as it reached a crescendo, I broke free.
I brought my arondight blade to life as I flipped into the air. Swinging, I attacked with all the strength I could muster, arcing my sword through the air.
Markzoth raised his arm to block the blow, and violet sparks erupted as metal collided with corrupted flesh. He roared in anger and clamped his hand around the blade, wrenching it out of my grasp.
It fell to the ground, clattering across the rock, and the sword disappeared into the hilt.
I faltered, realising I’d done no damage to Markzoth’s new body at all, and he grabbed me around the neck, his fingers biting into my skin.
“Where is Arondight?” he rasped, holding up his free hand and twisting his fingers.
“Are we still on that?” I managed to choke out. “We both know I don’t know anything.”
Markzoth twisted his hand and Wilder cried out in agony.
“Stop it!” I screeched, clawing at the demon’s arm.
“I’m not going to stop, Scarlett,” he crooned. “You’re already dead. All that’s left is how you choose to die. Slowly…or mercifully.”
“Demon’s don’t know the meaning of mercy,” I spat.
His lips quirked and he flashed his pointed teeth. “You’re right…I don’t.” He twirled his finger and Wilder hissed. “Where is it?”
“I don’t know anything about Arondight,” I rasped.
“You do, Scarlett. You know exactly where it is, and you will tell me before you die. No matter how long it takes.”
Markzoth dragged a finger down the scar on the right side of my face and smiled. His teeth were red, the glamour holding his human form together shimmering. Rows upon rows of sharp fangs lined the inside of his mouth and I squirmed in his grasp.
“Arondight,” he crooned.
My scar… Did he mean Arondight gave it to me? Was that how I’d been ‘touched’?
“Pervert,” I hissed.
Reaching for my Light, I forced a blast of energy towards him. His grip loosened and I was flung out of his grasp. Markzoth recovered quickly, and I shrieked in pain as his boot slammed into my ribs, the force sending me flying.
I rolled across the sigil, smearing black, congealed blood across the ground. I came to a rest near the edge, not far from where Wilder was hanging. Looking up at him, I swallowed a cry as I saw blood seep from his eyes, ears, and nose.
Wilder was cunning and powerful, second only to Aldrich, but Markzoth had rendered him useless with a flick of his demonic wrist. What hope did I have?
I clutched my side, glaring up at the demon who’d murdered my parents and had stolen Jackson’s life. I hated him. I hated him so much, it almost blinded me to everything else.
“It was you who spearheaded Human Convergence, and it was you who conspired with the Inquisitor to infiltrate the Regula.” I curled my lips and readied myself. “Isn’t that right…Markzoth.”
Nothing happened. The Balan just stared down at me, flashing his rows of pointed teeth in a gleeful smile.
“Did you really think knowing my name would give you power over me?” He laughed, the sound echoing through the chamber. “Stupid girl.”
Ice rushed through my veins as I realised our mistake. This was a trap. Markzoth had seen Jackson, and everything since had been a maze of manipulation and conspiracy to get me to come to him. He wanted Arondight and since no one could find it, I was the next best thing.
“Scarlett, get out of here,” Wilder managed to rasp. “Run.”
I’d run from one thing or another my entire life—the memory of my parents’ death, the abusive foster homes, myself, my struggles with mental health, and the truth of who I was. I’d finally found a place where I could belong, where I had a family and something worth fighting for.
If I ran now, I wouldn’t have learned anything.
If I ran now, I’d be a coward.
If I ran now, Wilder would die.
I shook, my fingers grazing the edge of the sigil, and I called on my Light. Wilder said I could do things I wasn’t supposed to. I had an instinct that protected me in battle and I healed Jackson when his Light couldn’t. I was different, but we were stronger together.
“No,” I rose to my feet, “I will not run.”
“Scarlett…” Wilder’s strength was fading as mine was growing.
If I truly carried a piece of Arondight inside me, then it was time to call upon it or die trying.
I edged around the sigil, closing the gap between me and Wilder. “You don’t have any power in this world, Markzoth. Not anymore.”
I thrust my hand into Wilder’s and let go of all the barriers I’d put up inside myself. My heart and mind opened, and his Light rushed forth to twist and mesh with mine.
A scream tore from my lips as electricity burned through my body, but it wasn’t pain I felt, it was the burning acid of anger that ate through me.
“No…” Markzoth stared at me in shock, his glamour fading.
“Do you understand now?” I cried, a searing violet Light burning behind my eyes. “You have no power in this world!”
“It’s—” Whatever he was about to say was lost as I unleashed the full force of my fury in a blaze of indigo flame.
The Darkness holding Markzoth and his lair together began to crack and splinter. His body tore apart, streams of inky black essence pouring out of the fissures.
Wilder’s grip tightened on mine, holding me steady—he was giving me everything he had left.
I bore down on the Balan, crushing him beneath my Light, then…
He exploded in a silent vacuum of time and space, and all the light, magical and ordinary, was sucked into the void of his destruction.
Scarlett…
Scarlett, you have to wake up. It’s not over yet.
My eyes snapped open and I gasped for air. The nothingness Markzoth had returned to had almost sucked me under. But…that voice…
I jerked upright, ash and dust falling from me in a haze that choked my throat. Coughing, I was vaguely aware Aldrich was kneeling over me.
“Scarlett?” His brow creased, and he dusted some of the grit from my shoulders. “Are you all right?”
I blinked, realising everyone was here—Romy, Valeria, Alo, and Martin. They were covered in foul-smelling goop, but they were alive.
“Wilder?” I rasped.
He was sitting on the ground, covered in dust, with one knee propped up. He’d attempted to wipe the blood away from his eyes, but it was smeared across his face and matted into the shaggy stubble on his jaw.
“Wilder?” I echoed.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled, shaking his head.
“Your Light.” I reached out, my fingertips grazing the back of his hand. When I felt his power flare in response to mine, I sighed in relief. If he’d become soul sick because of me, I wouldn’t know what to do.
“What the hell is that?” Romy exclaimed, staring at the ceiling of the lair.
Following her gaze, we looked up and Alo cursed under his breath as we beheld a curious sight. Tendrils of Darkness had crawled up the walls and were working their way through the Earth towards the surface. It reminded me of a network of tree roots, except they were flowing in the wrong direction.
“What is it?” Valeria whispered. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“No one has.” Aldrich glanced at me and Wilder. “At least no one in living memory.”
“Is that what happens when a greater demon dies?” I wondered out loud.
“Threads,” Aldrich explained. “They show the connections the Balan had to the living. There was an account about it in the Codex, but I never believed I’d see it in my lifetime.”
I saw the threads disappear into the ceiling like complex veins carrying Darkness to whatever they were connected to and wondered where—or to who—they were going to.
“The sigil,” I whispered. “It was his way of controlling whoever he’d turned.”
“It’s leading us right to the Balan’s conspirators,” Aldrich confirmed.
I rubbed my temples, my head throbbing. It wasn’t over, not yet. Like a bad smell that wouldn’t go away, there was always a little more battle to be fought.
“Who’s going to touch it?” Romy asked. “We have to find out who it was working with.”
“I’m not touching that thing,” Martin declared.
“Quit your whining, I’ll do it.” I rolled my eyes and slapped my palm down on the sigil, gasping as a vision was shoved into my mind. I wasn’t surprised when I saw who the strongest thread was linked to—after all, we already suspected it, but now we had irrefutable proof.
“Julius Wainthrope,” I announced. “The thread leads to Julius Wainthrope.”
20
Night had well and truly fallen by the time we returned to the Sanctum in Battersea.
The stacks of the abandoned power station towered overhead, disappearing into a thick layer of fog. Snow had begun to fall, silent flakes melting on our shoulders and in our ash-laden hair.
My breath vaporised in plumes, my fingers freezing on the hilt of my arondight blade. I was exhausted, but we were against the clock. By now, Wainthrope could’ve taken over the whole Sanctum. Aldrich hadn’t heard from Greer when he called from outside the Necropolis, and things had gone strangely silent where the demons were concerned.
A few hours ago, the city was teeming with supernaturals, but now it was empty.
“What’s the plan?” Romy asked as we approached the main entrance. “Just bust in and start cracking skulls?”
“We go straight for Wainthrope,” Aldrich replied, “and neutralise any hostiles in our path. We don’t need any needless deaths. He must be held accountable.”
“Put on trial, you mean,” Martin said.
“He was one of us once,” Aldrich stated.
It didn’t give me a good feeling, knowing a Natural could betray the Light so completely, but it was what it was. Now we had to protect our way of life and the Codex from falling further into Darkness. If the balance tipped any more, I wasn’t sure we could stop the world from falling into the hands of the enemy.
Wilder kicked in the doors and they swung inwards, crashing against the walls. A dull boom echoed through the marble foyer and we strode into the Sanctum like the greater demon killing bad arses we were. If we had a soundtrack in that moment, it’d be AD/DC’s Back in Black.
Covered in demon guts, ash, soot, blood, and god knows what else, we readied our weapons as a stream of armed Naturals thundered down the stairs and out of the adjoining corridors, assuming a defensive position and cocking their automatic rifles.
“Guns?” I hissed. “Since when do we use guns?”
Wainthrope walked out onto the landing at the top of the stairs, dragging Greer behind him. He knew.
“What were you expecting?” he sneered down at us, hatred clouding his eyes, the statue of the Lady of the Lake towering behind him. “A parade?”
My heart twisted and I swallowed hard. He controlled the London Sanctum and the Codex. If we didn’t stop him now, then he’d take control of the Light and turn it towards Darkness. His lust for power had corrupted him to the core.
Wilder flipped his cold iron dagger in his hand and threw it at Wainthrope. It streaked through the air at an alarming pace, but the Inquisitor held up his hand, striking it down with his Light.
“Fool,” he hissed. “See what they’ve become? They’ve been corrupted by Darkness! Kill the traitors!”
The Naturals cocked their weapons and began to fire, the sound deafening in the enclosed space.
I fell to the floor and scrambled behind one of the columns as bullets sprayed in my wake. Shards of stone exploded, nicking my skin as I ducked for cover. Flattening my back against the cool marble, my gaze met Wilder’s. Talk about a crescendo to an over-the-top night.
The gunfire came to an abrupt halt and I looked for the others. Aldrich was pinned behind the column to my left, Wilder to the right. Romy, Martin, and Valeria had retreated outside, and Alo was in an alcove usually reserved for a bunch of wires for the electrical thing-a-mah-whatsit.
“Well, this went swimmingly,” I whispered.
Wilder tapped the floor with his index finger, drawing my attention down. I tensed as I saw the thread from the Necropolis inching across the floor, past my foot, and snaking towards Greer and Wainthrope. I had to buy some time, the thread would do the rest—or at least I hoped it would.
“Traitor!” I shouted. “You sold us all out to the demons!”
“Scarlett Ravenwood,” the Inquisitor declared with a triumphant smirk, “welcome back. You’re just in time for your trial.”
“I think you’re mistaken,” I called from behind the column. “We’re here to judge you.”
“Me?” He laughed and grabbed Greer by the arm. “Shall I refresh your memory of the charges laid on you and Wilder? Not to mention Aldrich and the other defectors.”
I kept one eye on the thread and one on the landing.
“No, thanks,” I replied. “I don’t need to be patronised by a slimy, two-faced git like you.”
“How dare you.” The thread began to coil around his ankle, but he hadn’t noticed.
“We learned a lot of interesting things while we were out and about,” I went on, glancing at Wilder. “How you violated Sanctum protocol and gave Jackson’s blood samples to the Balan demon.” The threat grazed Wainthrope’s boot. “Oh, and the part where you conspired to orchestrate his death by execution, then hand him over to the enemy. Real slick, cowboy.”
“Hollow accusations from a corrupt mind,” he bellowed.
“Really? Sounds like a thing a demon sympathiser would say in the midst of a tantrum.” I glanced around the column just as the tendril of Darkness coiled around his ankle.
Now!
I lunged for the thread and wrapped my hands around it. I felt the same sensation as I had when I’d touched the sigil, but I forced it out and pulled the cord as hard as I could.
“Insolent—” Wainthrope choked and fell forwards, the thread biting into his skin.
The Naturals around him gasped as the thread flared, then wrapped its tendrils around Wainthrope’s other leg.
Standing, I walked out from behind the column, pulling the coil of Darkness until it’d taken hold of the Inquisitor.
“He’s dead,” I said, dropping the thread. “Markzoth is dead.”
His eyes widened. “You… His name—”
“Did you know when a greater demon dies, the Darkness inside it leads us to those he conspired with?” I climbed the first step. “It’s quite handy, don’t you agree?” I went up another step. “It tells us exactly where to cut out the corrupted flesh. And if you don’t believe me, you can find it in the Codex.”
The Naturals around us turned towards Wainthrope, their accusing glares burning like acid.
“Scarlett is right,” Greer said, glaring down at the Inquisitor. “It’s been hundreds of years since a sighting was recorded, but today we can write a new chapter. The first in a century.”
The Naturals murmured amongst themselves, and one by one, they began to drop their weapons.
The Inquisitor stared up at me with a loathing so intense the old Scarlett would’ve caved, but after what happened at the Necropolis, I’d evolved.
Greer moved around him and joined me. “Who will stand beside you now that they know you conspired to hand over the one man—who’s single contribution to the Light despite the Dark—saved us all?”
The thread twisted around Wainthrope’s waist, binding his arms to his sides.
