The gig was well and truly up, so I opened my eyes. At first I didn’t see much at all. Whoever was in the room with me was at my back, so I had a second to acclimatize before I turned over.
I glanced around, but it wasn’t like any posh hospital or hotel room I’d ever seen. Focusing on the woman sitting next to the bed, I realized I was staring, but it was hard to look away.
She was the image of a supermodel. I decided she was Cindy Crawford with her long legs, silky chestnut hair, beauty mark on her cheek, and perfectly symmetrical facial features. In comparison, I felt like a cockroach lying on its back, waving its feet around because it couldn’t get up.
“Welcome back, Scarlett,” she said, flashing her perfect teeth. “How are you feeling?”
“Who…? Where…?”
“I’m Greer,” the woman said with a smile. “I’m in charge of the Sanctum and protector of the Codex.”
“The what?” I rubbed my eyes. Were all demon hunters part-time catwalk models?
“Don’t worry, there’ll be time to explain everything.” She wasn’t unkind, which just rubbed salt into my physical insecurities. I could see why Wilder had his hackles up, though—the sweet bordered on sickly.
“I-I had the strangest dream,” I muttered.
“I assure you, this is all very real,” Greer said. “I can sense you’re still trying to come to terms with this upheaval, but you can’t deny the things you’ve already seen. Infernals, possessions, exorcisms…”
I watched her with trepidation as she raised her hands and held them over me. Her brow creased as if she were trying to sense something in the air around me, then she placed her hands on her lap and flexed her fingers.
“Wilder was right,” she said. “You have no Light, nor are you manifesting.”
“What did he say?”
“He told us everything, though I suspect he’s held a few things back. He’s like that.”
Hearing it didn’t instill much faith in me, either. I didn’t know a single thing about these people, or their politics, but I needed answers without locking myself unknowingly into some magical contract I couldn’t get out of. What a conundrum.
“Where’s Jackson?” I began, deciding to start with something obvious. “Is he…?”
“Your friend is recovering in the infirmary,” Greer said. “His soul has been restored, though he needs bedrest. Possession is an exhausting experience.”
“He’ll be okay?”
She nodded. “Perfectly.”
I sighed in relief, my breath whooshing out. That was good news, but I wouldn’t be completely satisfied until he was out of this place and home where he belonged, and me… Well, I wasn’t sure where I belonged now. Always pinging from place to place, that was my MO. Fitting in was a foreign concept, and now there were magical troll dolls in play—who knew which way was true north.
“Has anything like this happened to you before?” Greer asked.
I snorted and sat up, scooping the blankets around myself. I wasn’t wearing much of anything, which meant someone had the fabulous job of changing my comatose body. Blergh.
“I gather that’s a no.”
“I’ve never seen any clouds of black smoke puff out people’s mouths or had a demon chase me through the street before, so no,” I replied with an air of sarcasm. “I think I’d remember if any of those things had happened.”
“Usually people don’t.”
I rolled my eyes. The alteration thing, of course. It didn’t work on me, so I definitely knew I hadn’t run into a demon before. I wondered how common it was for there to be attacks.
“The sword… Wilder said I shouldn’t be able to use it, but it worked.”
Greer nodded. “That is correct. Arondight blades only activate for those who possess Light. It’s very unusual.”
I sighed. Lately a lot of things had revealed themselves to be unusual. It was hard to keep up with all the developments.
“Wilder believes the Infernal are interested in you for more than possession,” she continued. “In light of this, we’d like to conduct some tests in order to determine the cause of your apparent skill, for lack of a better word.”
I tensed. “You want to experiment on me?”
“No, nothing as sinister as that,” she replied with a sweet smile. “The only explanation we can see is that you indeed have Light, but it’s hidden. We’d like to try to bring it forth. In either case, we’d prefer to ensure your safety before allowing you to return to your normal life.”
The Cindy Crawford-lookalike didn’t say it, but I got the distinct feeling I had no choice in the matter. This was probably payment for them helping restore Jackson’s soul. Wilder never said anything about the fine print and I scowled.
“What do you mean by Light? Are you angels or something?”
“No,” she replied with a chuckle. “Nothing as outrageous as that. What you refer to as magic, we call Light.”
“And magic isn’t outrageous?” I muttered, looking around the room.
Above the bed was a skylight set with stained glass in the shape of a woman in a flowing robe clutching a sword. It accounted for the strange hue to the room, but the closer I studied the image, the more I realised it wasn’t Catholic. It didn’t seem to have anything to do with the religions of the human world.
“Who is that?” I pointed to the skylight. “Is that your version of God?”
“We don’t follow religion here,” Greer said, watching me closely. “Only the battle between Light and Dark.”
“Demons?” I asked. “Like the one Wilder and I fought?”
She nodded. “There is a constant push and pull for dominance. Every minute of every day, all that stands in the way from that balance tipping into Darkness, are the people you see here and those like them around the world.”
“The Naturals?”
“Yes.”
“And they all have this… Light?”
“We are all born of Light,” she replied.
“Wait, so you can’t learn it? You have to be born that way?”
“Or made, though a Natural hasn’t been created in hundreds of years.” Greer glanced at me, a frown creasing her perfect forehead. “Who were your parents?”
“I… They died when I was young. Wait…” I held up my hand. “What do they have to do with any of this? I don’t even understand why I’m here. I don’t have any of this Light you keep mentioning. Apart from being able to see Wilder the jackass when I was apparently not supposed to, and being able to hold a magical sword or whatever, I’m not anything special. I’m just an emotionally scarred twenty-five-year-old who missed her birthday because of demons. I fainted in front of a bunch of strangers, and I woke up in an unfamiliar bed. And here you are telling me awful bedtime stories. If this is a hidden camera show and I’m being punked, please put me out of my misery.”
Greer laughed. Ugh. Even her laugh sounded like angles singing.
“You’re very—”
“Surly?” I finished for her. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard that before.”
“Recently, I take it.”
I nodded as I spotted the troll doll sitting on top of a pile of clothes in the leather armchair. My phone, wallet, and keys were beside it, and my boots were on the floor. Someone had polished them, which was borderline blasphemy. Kick-arse boots should always look beaten up and scuffed to hell and back. How else were people to know you meant business?
“Are you well?” Greer asked. “I’ll show you more of the Sanctum, if you wish, and take you to see your friend.”
“That’d be great.” I sighed in relief and glanced around the room.
“I have some new clothes laid out for you,” she said, gesturing to the pile of clothes on the armchair. “We salvaged what we could, but some of your clothing was ruined, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“I’ll come back shortly to collect you,” she said, rising to her feet. Realizing she was wearing an elegant black pantsuit
with a shiny black silk blouse and sky-high heels, I raised my eyebrows. Corporate Natural? Business wear for demon hunters must be a thing.
Once I’d showered and scrubbed the grime off my body, I dressed, glad someone had the foresight to give me jeans that fit and a plain black T-shirt. Donning my leather jacket and shoving my feet into my boots, I glanced at the troll doll. That thing was following me everywhere.
Just as I reached for it, the door opened. I shot to my feet awkwardly and combed my fingers through my damp hair.
“Much better,” Greer declared, gesturing for me to follow her outside. “I trust the clothes fit?”
“Yes. Perfectly, thank you.”
Greer led me through the Sanctum, explaining things as we passed. We were in the residential part of the building where all the demon hunters had their rooms. There was enough accommodation to house over a hundred people, but less than a third of them were occupied. There was a fully kitted out infirmary—where Jackson was being cared for—training facilities, briefing rooms, an array of computer systems to help in the hunt for demons, a library, armoury, kitchens, and even a garden on the roof. There was a vault and a holding facility specially designed to keep demons in—especially the black inky smoke type—in the basement.
The building had hints of medieval architecture mixed in with modern touches. Paintings and epitaphs were displayed in common areas, and the halls were hardwood with insanely long carpet runners over top. Every so often there were displays of weapons—swords, spears, shields, and halberds—unlike anything I’d ever seen. Some blades looked like they were forged out of crystal rather than steel, and the designs painted on the shields didn’t look like any coat of arms I’d ever seen.
The Sanctum looked more like a museum than a demon hunter headquarters. I almost expected to see those little ropes cordoning off sections tourists weren’t allowed to go into and dudes with walkie-talkies poised to tell people off for inching too close to the artefacts.
After reassuring me there weren’t any demons currently being held down below, Greer took me to see the Naturals training area. The room looked like any other gym, though it was dark. The walls were painted black and the mats underfoot were a smoky grey. Spotlights lit up certain areas, while others were left to writhe in the shadows.
I watched as two men twisted and leapt, their blades colliding in a shower of sparks. It was surreal and completely meserising—they were like dancers putting on a performance on stage, like shadows armed with arc welders.
“Naturals train from the time they are children up until they day they die,” Greer explained. “We never stop learning, knowing that our enemy is always one step ahead.”
“I can tell.” The way the men anticipated each other’s movements was otherworldly. It was like they were a second ahead of the curve before the curve had even thought about curving. “The swords… what are they exactly?”
“They are arondight blades as you know,” she replied. “They are weapons forged with Light, whose sole purpose is to slay Darkness. They are one of the few things in this world that can banish a demonic soul forever.”
I shivered, remembering how I’d stabbed the spider demon creature with Wilder’s arondight blade. It’d burst into flames the moment its heart had been pierced. I guess it’d been damned to Hell or wherever they went when they died for real.
“What is Arondight exactly?” I asked. “Is it like some special metal?”
“Arondight was the magical sword wielded by Lancelot in your Arthurian legends. Our arondight is made from a mixture of crystal, quicksilver, and carbon extracted from meteorites, then forged with an intricate web of Light at temperatures far greater than humans have been able to create themselves. The original blade has been long since lost, but its secrets lingered long enough for us to be able to forge our own.”
“Lancelot?” I made a face and sighed. “I suppose it isn’t so farfetched considering… you know, demons and shit.”
Greer smiled. “It’s not so much about the man who wielded it, than where it came from and what it could do.”
“Slay demons?”
“Yes, though the blades we forge in its image are pale in comparison to the relic itself. If we had Arondight itself, then the balance would greatly tip in our favour, but that’s another story. A very long story.”
“Where is it?”
“Arondight was lost a long time ago.”
“Oh…”
I watched the two demon hunters as they continued their fight, never once breaking formation or striking one another. Only their blades touched. Curiously, they were also showering the room with white sparks like Wilder’s sword. When I’d picked up the blade, it’d glowed purple for me. I had no idea why that might be, but I had the feeling it might’ve been something Wilder left out of his report. I had more reason to trust him than Greer, so I decided to keep my violet hue to myself… for now.
“Ah, here’s Romy,” Greer said, drawing my attention away from the fight.
“Morning, Greer,” a tall, wisp of a woman said as she came to join us. “Is this Scarlett?”
I gaped as she looked me over. Yet another Victoria’s Secret model stood before me, all lithe, perfect, and, well, just perfect. Her black hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, though it fell in long luxurious waves. Impossibly long lashes framed her icy grey eyes and her skin was flawless ivory. Unlike the other hunters I’d seen, Romy had black and grey tattoos which snaked up both her arms and along the left side of her neck. Geometric patterns made up of dots, blocks of black ink, and lines upon lines formed the intricate designs.
“Scarlett, I’d like you to meet Romy,” Greer said, nodding towards the woman. “She’s one of our recently graduated hunters. I’ve asked her to help you with whatever you need.” Which I knew was code for babysit the untrustworthy human who may or may not be here to destroy us all.
“It’s okay, Greer,” I said with a smirk. “I know how these things work. You’ve got shit to do and someone needs to watch me in case I get sticky fingers.”
Romy chuckled, earning herself a stern look from Greer.
“We are fighting a war, Scarlett,” she replied. “We must not take any chances… even with ourselves.” She glanced across the room and I felt a blast of cold air tickle my neck like someone had just turned on the aircon and I happened to be standing under the vent.
Following her gaze, I tensed as I saw Wilder talk to another hunter. He looked different today, less disheveled and more solider-like.
“I trust you’ll make sure Scarlett has something to eat?” Greer asked, turning back to Romy. “Then a trip to the infirmary is in order.”
The hunter nodded, snapping to attention. “Yes, ma’am.”
Greer offered me one last smile before she floated from the room, off to perform some mysterious official task I’m sure. There was something untouchable about her, like she held herself on a pedestal above the other Naturals. Well, she was the leader, but there was something I didn’t like about it. This whole place, the way I was being given a personalised guided tour, assigned a minder, had a friend given preferential medical care… There was something off about it.
“I don’t get it,” I muttered. “If I can’t have my memory altered, then why am I being told all this?”
“There must be something about you because you’ve already seen too much,” Romy said with a smile. “It’s not for me to ask.”
I grimaced and looked for an exit, much to her amusement.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Greer knows what she’s doing. She must have a good reason for bringing you into the Sanctum like this.”
“What are they going to do with me?”
“She’ll consult the Codex,” Romy replied. “Then possibly test you for Light.”
“What’s the Codex?” I asked, ignoring the part about being poked and prodded like a poor lab rat.
“It’s an ancient text that tells us of the origins of Light,” she explained, “and the
Naturals code of conduct, give or take a few metaphors.”
“So it’s like your version of the Bible?”
“Kind of.” Romy smiled and nodded towards the training mats. “What do you think?”
“It’s very impressive.” My gaze settled on Wilder, who hadn’t noticed us standing there yet. His fingers curled into the hem of his T-shirt and he dragged the material up and over his head, revealing just how hard his chest was. He was lean, muscled, and one hundred percent—
“Is that drool?” Romy asked with a chuckle.
“No,” I snapped a little too quickly. “It’s just… What’s his deal? He’s got an attitude that screams troubled past.” I was great at spotting the wounded ones because it took one to know one and all of that. We were brilliant at masking our pain with humour and arseholery.
“Wilder…” She sighed, her gaze following him across the room. “He’s not like the rest of us.”
“Meaning?” I asked, startled at the pang of jealousy that stabbed me in the heart.
“Perhaps that’s a story he ought to tell you.”
I snorted. “If I don’t die on the autopsy table.”
Romy laughed, the sound echoing through the training room. Heads turned to stare and I flushed, not liking the attention.
“You’re cool,” she declared. “Are you hungry? Let’s go to the kitchen.”
I glanced back across the room. Wilder caught my eye and stared at me, though his expression gave away nothing.
“Uh, I think I’d rather go to the infirmary first,” I said. “I want to see how Jackson is.”
“Sure thing!” Smiling brightly, she guided me towards the exit. “So, is he your boyfriend or something?”
“Huh?”
“The human. He’s pretty…” She searched her mind for a word but couldn’t come up with anything.
“No,” I said with a scowl, “he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Just as well, I doubt geek is your type,” a masculine voice declared behind us.
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