Dark Descent: The Arondight Codex - Book One, R Nicole [best feel good books TXT] 📗

“What was that?” I asked, snatching at his hand. He leaned back and held up his palm so I could see that he was unharmed. His skin was unbroken, though calloused as hell, but there were no burns at all.

“You have no Light, you’re obviously not manifesting, but you keep shaking off my attempts at Alteration,” he declared. “Something’s wrong with you.”

“Huh?” I didn’t know what any of those things were, but I was severely offended at the part where he said something was wrong with me. I didn’t need the reminder.

“Alteration,” he repeated like I should know everything about his state of insanity.

“I don’t know what that is,” I said with a pout. “And you haven’t explained anything to me. Who are you?”

“You’re wondering if I’m a figment of your imagination?”

“Jackson said he couldn’t see you.”

“I was cloaked then because it was necessary,” he stated. “I’m not now, because I’m off the clock, Purples. I punch in, I punch out.”

“Of what?” I asked, my voice rising. “Do you always answer questions with nonsense?”

The man leaned back and ran his hands through his hair with a groan. “Impossible.”

“Who are you?” I demanded, the volcano beginning to break through the surface.

“Wilder,” he said, thoroughly exasperated. “I knew you were going to be a problem.” He closed his fist around the troll doll and muttered something under his breath.

“Well, I’m so sorry I’m such an annoying thorn in your arse cheek, Mr. Wilder,” I drawled. “I remember everything, FYI—the name calling, the sexual harassment, the stabbing, the funky black smoke.”

“I did not sexually harass you,” Wilder exclaimed. “I saved your life and this is the thanks I get?”

“From a puff of black smoke?”

“A demon,” he hissed through his teeth. “A particularly nasty one that would’ve fed on your soul and damned you to Hell.”

I made a face. “Well, that isn’t outlandish at all!”

“You weren’t supposed to see me,” he said, shaking his head. “No one is ever supposed to see.”

“Yeah, but I did…”

“I’d hate to say duh, but duh.”

I still wasn’t sure if I was having a mental breakdown, but I was here now and this Wilder guy was talking. Well, it was mostly in riddles, but he was explaining something at least and people could see him this time. I narrowed my eyes at the woman at the next table who was drooling at the sight of the psycho in front of me. Ugh.

“So you excised the black smoke demon thing, then came back for seconds. Theoretically, he wasn’t possessed anymore, but you killed him anyway,” I said, leaning forward. “Why?”

“He was a Vessel,” Wilder replied.

“A what?”

“A Vessel.” He raised his eyebrows. When my scowl deepened, he added, “A willing participant. He was so far gone, it was the humane thing to do, really. Don’t worry, I cleaned up after myself.”

“This is just getting worse and worse,” I said with a moan. “And I’m not even off my meds.”

Wilder perked up. “You’re on medication?”

“That’s none of your business,” I snapped.

He stared at me so long, I was sure I’d grown a second head. “You better not be trying that alteration thing with me again because we’ve already established that it doesn’t work so great.”

“C’mon,” he said, scraping his chair back and rising. “I’m taking you home.”

“You’re taking me home?”

“Don’t argue with me, Purples.” He flipped up the collar of his jacket. “Something’s not right with you, and it’d be negligent to leave you wandering the streets in the middle of the night, even though I’d rather be doing a million other things.”

“Like?”

“Asphyxiating on my own vomit.”

“Charming.”

He picked up the troll doll and held it out. “Don’t forget yourself.”

“Are you always like this?” I asked as I followed him out onto the street.

“Like what?” He started to walk in the direction of the tube station and I had to jog to catch up with his impossibly long gait.

“So… prickly.”

He glared at me before he looked away. “The less you know about me, the better.”

Alrighty then.

* * *

Whoever—or whatever—Wilder was, he didn’t elaborate after that.

We got on a District line train, switched at Monument, and walked through the maze of tunnels and escalators under the city, following the signs for Bank Underground station. Wilder never said a word, he just strode through the trickling stream of passengers, brooding and sulking with me hot on his heels.

Thumping down the stairs and onto the platform where the northbound Northern line trains departed, he guided me to the far end, people hastily stepping out of the way as he approached. Not invisible then, just scary.

I glanced at him out the corner of my eye as the train zoomed into the station, the wind whipping my hair into a frenzy. What was he exactly? I got the impression he was some kind of demon hunter, which was a completely absurd job description. Did he work for someone? Was he a loner? Maybe he was both. There wasn’t a ring on his finger… like that meant anything.

The doors on the train swished open as the recording on the loudspeaker said, ‘Mind the gap between the train and the platform’. Wilder nudged me with his elbow, and I stepped into the carriage. It was mostly empty, so I sat and he took a seat opposite, slouching and man-spreading like a pro.

“See something you like?” Wilder asked, his eyes shining. They were doing that weird silver thing again, and I made a mental note to ask him about that, too.

“I’m just wondering why you need to open your legs so wide,” I said. “It’s rude.”

“I’ve got huge balls,” he said with an evil smirk.

“You’ve got a disgusting comeback for everything, don’t you?”

“Stop rising to the occasion, Purples.”

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention down the carriage. Anywhere was better than the gaping crevasse between his legs. I mean, I didn’t know why I was so combative with the guy. Usually, I was an under the radar kind of woman. A coaster on the coffee table