Demon Bound: The Camelot Archive - Book One

by R Taylor, Nicole

  I asked myself the same question daily.

  After I’d graduated and became a Natural warrior, things were great…for a while. Soon it became clear my past was going to be a hurdle too high for some people to overcome.

  While a senior at the Academy, an Infernal infected by Human Convergence had possessed me—the Dark’s attempt at creating an army out of humanity—and mutated me to the point I’d almost lost my Light. It’d all been a plot to bring down a horde of demons on the Academy to destroy the entire next generation of Natural warriors.

  Scarlett and everyone told me the attack wasn’t my fault, but how could I believe them? I’d been stupid enough to get myself compromised. I’d opened the metaphoric door and let them in. If it wasn’t for me, the wards would’ve held and…

  Despite being cured, people still looked at me like I was stuffed with twisted Darkness—and for once, it had nothing to do with my fashion choices.

  “Madeline?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah, there was that time I was almost mutated into a demon as a teenager. That might have something to do with it.”

  “Prejudice is a trait of our past, not our future.”

  “And you can’t turn it off with a flick of a switch. People thought you were a demon, but you turned out to be Excalibur. I was just a demon. No one’s forgotten.”

  “I’ve been where you are,” he told me. “I almost lost everything rebelling against it, just like you are now.”

  “Until Scarlett,” I said, my heart twisting. “Not everyone has a Scarlett or a Wilder.”

  “This isn’t about us. It’s about your dangerous need to risk your life regardless of others and the exposure of our kind. You’ve seen more than anyone your age and experience. I hoped that you’d understand the need for upholding the tenants of the Codex the most out of anyone. I expected better from you, Madeline.”

  I closed off my expression and became a wall of stone. It was tough when your boss’ boss’ boss—who once helped save me from full demonic mutation—still saw me as a kid.

  “Get on with it then,” I drawled.

  Wilder thumped his fist down on the table. “You’re being reassigned,” he barked. “The London Sanctum does not require the services of a rogue Natural.”

  “What?” I argued. “But London is—”

  “I have already made the decision.”

  I lowered my gaze, knowing that disputing Wilder’s orders would only make things worse. “W-Where am I going?”

  He scraped his chair back and rose to his feet. “Camelot.”

  * * *

  Mist clung to the hills, settling into the dips in the valley. The sun was out, but it didn’t stop the chill that was settling into my bones.

  I grasped the roll bar on the pickup truck as it bounced over the rough track. My arse balanced precariously on the edge of the tray, but it was the only seat available.

  I was the only grunt amongst the party. The others who sat in the back with me—two men and three women—were all researchers, archeologists, and scientists. Little flags stitched on their black duffle bags told me they were from all over the world—Canada, USA, Australia, South Africa. Unearthing Camelot had become an international Natural affair.

  The human world knew this place as the Clee Hills. The area was known for its rolling green landscape and ruined Medieval past. Some of the highest peaks were located here—if eighteen hundred feet of grass-covered rock could be considered a mountain.

  Ruined castles and villages dotted here and there, and ancient quarries still carved holes in the bedrock beneath. It was an archaeologist’s dream, but it was nothing compared to what hid beyond the veil cast by the Naturals.

  The others were craning their necks, searching for the first glimpse of the castle, but my mind was elsewhere. I wouldn’t call it sulking, but I wasn’t necessarily jumping for joy, either.

  I bristled thinking about the report that’d landed me in front of the Inquisitor. It was bad enough that I’d been reassigned, but when Wilder found out about the mystery man…? Being given a new babysitting gig would be the least of my worries.

  It wasn’t until later that I realised the man shouldn’t have been able to keep my arondight blade active, not unless he was made of Light.

  I don’t know why I left him out of my report. The existence of a demon-hybrid was bad news, but… I didn’t have the words to finish my reasoning.

  The pickup came to a stop and the Naturals began to pile out the back. I swung my legs over the edge and pushed off, landing with a thud on the hard ground. While I’d been brooding, we’d passed through the ancient wards concealing the dig site.

  I shouldered my duffle bag and lingered with the others as they gaped up at the outer edges of the castle. When I thought of Camelot, I’d pictured a castle with a few turrets, a gate, and maybe a moat—like Disneyland, but with more holes. Now that I was standing here, I realised the real thing was far larger than I’d ever expected.

  Camelot wasn’t a castle, it was a city.

  No wonder they’d only uncovered less than five percent of the site. I’d rolled my eyes and presumed they were just being slow, but the massive structure I was staring up at was only the outer wall. We hadn’t even glimpsed the destruction that’d torn the inner castle apart.

  The wall rose like a silent monolith through the fog, made of solid granite nearly seventy feet tall. One end seemed to carve straight into the cliff face—the natural formation used to its full advantage. The other had crumbled around what used to be an outer postern gate, and stone blocks the size of the pickup were strewn across the hillside. Grass and heath had grown up around them in the last few hundred years, so they now seemed to be part of the modern landscape.

  “Madeleine!”

  I looked up to see Aiden Thompson walk down to meet us. His Wellington boots were caked in mud and the sticky clay made him stumble down the track like he had two left feet. It was hard to pair the reality to the surface of the man on first glance. I wanted to say he was a handsome Italian Indiana Jones-type archeologist with superpowers, but he was just a massive nerd with a mini-pickaxe.

  It was easy to see why all the researchers fawned over him, but I couldn’t understand it. He was awkward, his clothes were always rumpled, and his curly brown hair was a bird’s nest. Despite his indifference to his appearance—which a little manscaping would fix—he was intelligent, passionate, and dedicated to unearthing the secrets lost in the cataclysm.

  I looked up to Aiden like a student did to a teacher. Fitting, considering he used to be my history professor at the Academy. There was only ten years difference in age between us, but it felt like a chasm after that relationship.

  Then there was that time I tried to frame him as a demon-hybrid. Oh, and that other bit where I’d tried kill him.

  He stood before me and drew me in for a hug, much to the chagrin of the new batch of female researchers. I tensed and clapped him on the back, hoping it was enough to satisfy. I didn’t like to hug.

  “When Wilder said he transferred you, I didn’t believe him,” Aiden said, pulling away. He looked amused and I wasn’t sure if it was over the awkward hug, or the fact that I was standing in the mud at Camelot. “But here you are!”

  “Yep.” I popped the p at the end and glanced at the others. I considered this posting a punishment while they thought it was the biggest break of their lives. Already, I could see the exasperated loathing on their faces when they looked at me.

  “Yes. Well.” Aiden coughed. “Hi all.” He waved at the newcomers like he was wiping condensation off a window. “I’m Aiden Thompson, the head of the archaeological team here at Camelot. I suck at speeches, so let’s get you all inside. We’ve set up base camp inside the wall.” He gestured the group forwards. “Welcome to Camelot.”

  I let the group filter past, ignoring the jealous glares from the women. I wondered if Aiden realised just how hot half the female population of the site was for him. Knowing him, probably not.
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  Sighing, I gave one last look at the world outside Camelot. Then I turned and followed my fate up the hill. My boots squelched in churned mud as I dawdled behind the group.

  “Camelot exists on the fringes of our reality,” Aiden said. “Time and space are folded here, which means the inside is much larger than the outside.”

  “To think we used to have so much power and understanding,” one woman said. Miss Canada. She was a scientist. “It’s unbelievable.”

  “I wonder how they managed it,” one man added.

  “The Druids,” I said with a huff. Everyone turned to stare at me, and I swallowed my annoyance. “They could walk between universes and change time.”

  “That’s one theory,” Aiden said cheerfully. “Many of the artefacts we’ve unearthed point to Merlin having a hand in the construction. Not so much the outer city, but the castle itself.”

  We moved through to another area of the outer ring of the complex.

  “As you know, Camelot was torn apart in the cataclysm,” Aiden went on, firmly wedged in his happy place, “and the Dark took hold of it, making it its base. Reality was twisted, and the creatures that lived here were at their most powerful. That was due to their close proximity to their own world.”

  “What happened to them?” one of the men asked.

  “The demons who lived here?” Aiden shrugged. “When the rift was sealed and the One was defeated, their hold on Camelot was severed. Without any power to feed from, they fled. They’re likely wasting away, hidden out in the world someplace.”

  “Preying on innocents,” the Australian researcher said.

  “Thank goodness for the Sanctums,” Miss Canada remarked.

  I snorted as we passed another broken wall and stepped into a clearing the size of a soccer pitch. This was where base camp had been erected. A small tent city stretched before me, bustling with activity.

  Portable generators were rumbling happily, powering everything from research tents and medical, to the kitchen, showers, and dormitories. Naturals bustled from tent to tent, and in the distance, I could see movement within the lower city of Camelot.

  Aiden gathered everyone close. “It’s been a long day of travel for all of you, so we’ll begin your new assignments tomorrow. For now, get some rest and settle in. The real work starts at sunrise.”

  The researchers began to mutter excitedly amongst themselves, wandering off through the tent city, their heads swivelling in all directions as they went.

  I stood on the edge of the camp, wondering where the grunts went. There had to be a designated place for the security detail.

  “Madeleine,” Aiden said, gesturing to me.

  I turned, my duffle almost colliding with a passing Natural, who almost dropped the box they were carrying. My cheeks heated and I began to realised just how out of place I was here.

  “Wilder mentioned—”

  “I know what he mentioned,” I interrupted.

  “And what’s that?”

  My jaw tensed. “Demon is as demon does.”

  “You’re still hung up on that?” he asked, his shoulders slumping. “Madeline.”

  “People keep telling me it was the demon inside me that did those things, but it only possessed me for a moment. All those things were me. I did them. You can’t tell me you don’t see how people look at me.”

  “A mutation made you do those things. You had no control over them.”

  “I tried to kill you.”

  “You weren’t yourself.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “So, what am I supposed to be doing here?”

  “Security,” Aiden said with a sigh. “Escort detail. Patrol.”

  So nothing even remotely interesting.

  “Madeleine…if you open yourself up, you could find things aren’t as drastic as you make them out to be.”

  I’d never fit in before I’d been possessed, but afterwards it was even clearer there was no place for me—and that was what I struggled with the most. I’d always carry the stigma of being demon bound and not a damn thing I could do would change it.

  “Don’t worry about pointing me to the command tent,” I said, moving past him. “I’m more than capable of finding it myself.”

  3

  I swept open the flap on the command tent.

  Caleb Thompson stood hunched over a table, swiping his finger back and forth across a tablet. Aiden’s older brother was the warrior of the family. They both had similar colouring—dark and broody—but the elder seemed to have all the coordination the younger lacked.

  He wore standard issue black tactical gear, his jacket open and his arondight blade strapped to his waist. The hilt flashed silver in the murky light

  Sensing my arrival, he looked up. “Madeleine. I was wondering when you were arriving.”

  “Sir.” I let the flap fall back into place, closing out the hubbub of the camp.

  The tent was draughty, but there was a Light-generated heater in the centre which fended off most of the chill. Someone had pinned various maps to boards and tables, and there was a glaring lack of weaponry. Who needed a rack of cold iron blades guarding a ruin? Not us.

  A row of black storage boxes were stacked to one side, the stamps on the side marking them as drones. I assumed they were for surveying the ruins more than surveillance. We’d never needed technology to do our jobs—that’s what our Light was for.

  “I’m glad to have someone of your capabilities here, Madeline, but I want to make something clear. There is no place for theatrics, lone wolves, or self-serving ambition at Camelot. We uphold the tenants of our people here, just as any other outpost.”

  I held his gaze. He’d read my file.

  “I don’t care what the Inquisitor says, this isn’t a low-priority mission,” he went on, throwing in a little dig towards Wilder—there was no love lost there. “The work being done here at Camelot is important and it needs to be protected. There is no telling what might be unearthed here—demonic or otherwise.”

  I supposed there was truth in that, but it wasn’t the front lines. Maybe I was crazy, but that’s where I wanted to be. All my life I’d dreamed about serving the London Sanctum and fighting the Dark—that’s where the centre of all Natural-kind was and it housed the Codex.

  The Codex was the book that housed our sacred history. Created in the cataclysm’s aftermath, it was intended to save as much of our lost heritage as possible, but over the years, it’d become much more than a record. It governed our choices, our beliefs, and our very souls. The manuscript had gathered so much Light it had become a link to all Naturals…but only one could read it. The Protector—and the Twin Flames.

  Then there was the bit where anyone who touched it burned to ash from the inside out. We were a delightful bunch of supernaturals.

  The point was, everyone wanted a post in London. Everyone. But since I was standing here of all places, I’d obviously screwed it up.

  Thompson stared at me, his gaze cold and heavy. “Are we on the same page?”

  I read everything I needed to from his expression. He wasn’t a man I should push too hard.

  “Sir.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly and sighed. “Report in the morning. I’ll have your schedule fixed by then.” He nodded towards the tent flap. “The barracks are at the outer edges of camp. They’ve been marked.”

  I picked up my duffle. “Sir.”

  “Madeline?”

  I lingered, waiting for his parting wisdom.

  “You can say more to me than sir.”

  “Yes…sir.”

  He snorted and shoved his hand through his hair. “That’s a start, I suppose.” He moved around the table and stood before me. Thompson was a full head taller and I had to lift my chin to meet his gaze. “Just so we’re on the same page, this is your last chance, Madeline. I’m not sure what will happen to you if you screw this up.”

  I tensed. This was a new revelation. Wilder was testing me by not mentioning my precarious position and Thompson was
throwing me a bone.

  “You’re an exceptional Natural,” he went on, “that much is clear from your file. Top grades at the Academy, high strike rates…but your attitude is severely lacking. The red flags almost outweigh the accolades. You’re far too young and talented to be discharged for insubordination.”

  I bit my tongue as shame pulsed through my body. Rebelliousness would only get me so far, then it was a sharp turn to a cliff called ‘fall from grace’. He was right—everyone who tried to beat it into my head was—but I didn’t know how to be anything other than a pain in the arse.

  Thompson relaxed his posture. “The only person who can help you is yourself. We can only do so much.”

  “I know, sir. I… I’m trying to figure it out.”

  He sighed again. “I sincerely hope so.” He nodded towards the flap. “Now get out of my sight.”

  * * *

  After I’d found an empty bunk, I followed my nose to the camp kitchen.

  The sun was already lowering in the sky and many of the Naturals working up on the dig site were returning to base for the evening.

  I sat at a table in the corner—away from the noise—and watched as they filed into the tent. It was easy to tell everyone apart from the amount of dirt caked on their clothes. Hard mud on both knees equalled archaeologist. Caked boots and weaponry were security. Mostly clean were scientists who spent most of their time in their laboratories. Spotless were the researchers who catalogued and translated.

  I poked at my food, the battered fork spearing the soggy vegetables.

  There seemed to be at least seventy to eighty people here. Not a great deal when Camelot inhabited a twenty square kilometre pocket of space and time. And Aiden mentioned they’d uncovered less than five percent of that.

  “You’re pouting. I can see nothing’s changed.”

  I jumped as a familiar face appeared in my line of vision and dropped my fork. “Trent?”

  He grinned and sat across from me. “The one and only.”

  Trent had grown up a lot since I’d last seen him. His face seemed to have learned what stubble was and the boyish roundness in his cheeks had hardened. The hair on his head had darkened and his eyes seemed more focused than I remembered.