Fear's Touch: A Darkworld Novella (The Darkworld Series) (2 page)

Instead, my world flipped upside-down, and they started talking about dark spaces and demons and a place called the Darkworld. And magic. I think I laughed at that point. Who wouldn’t? This whole thing was insane. Maybe we all needed our heads examined.

But it went on and on. My sane, rational mother and father told me in detail about an organization called the Venantium, who policed magic-users and were responsible for hunting down demons, like the one I’d seen. Yeah, the Venantium. Lame-ass title, if you ask me, but those guys lived five hundred years in the past, or so Mum and Dad said. They went on and on about this Barrier between this world and the Darkworld, which was the reason the demon hadn’t been able to hurt me. But now, I was—get this—a sorceress. I had the power to summon demons myself. Imagine! Of course, that was a
very bad idea
. No shit. The Venantium would have me arrested, if the demon didn’t kill me first.

I’m pretty sure I went semi-hysterical at that point. What can I say? It’s hard to wrap your head around stuff like that. Learning my sensible, normal former-lawyer parents actually used to hunt down supernatural monsters that could kill without touching, that wanted nothing more than a human life force to feed on and a body to use as a puppet…yeah, that can kind of screw a person up.

It took a while to get used to my new status as a lunatic. I mean, sorceress. Meaning: freak.

Not that anyone actually called me that to my face, but I saw the raised eyebrows when I passed people in the corridors at school, and imagined how things had played out after I’d been carted off to hospital at the party. Jumping off a balcony tended to get rumours flowing. But the curiosity kind of died down once it started to sink in that we had less than a year left at school, and, suddenly, all those decisions about university and careers were banging on the door, and no one had a clue what to do. My mental breakdown was soon old news, thank the gods.

I only had one term left before it was time for university, but, unfortunately, that opened another can of worms.

“We didn’t want to say before, in case you turned out not to be able to see the demons. It’s always a possibility.” Mum’s calm demeanour was kind of undermined by the outlandish nonsense coming from her mouth.

“Well, thanks for keeping me in the dark.” I’d decided to go with the ‘play along’ approach. I sat in the well-worn living room chair, Charley, our dog, sniffing around my ankles—
he
didn’t seem to mind that I was a freak. “So, you think you get to decide my future?”

“We’re thinking of your safety, Claudia,” said Dad. “We made enemies in the time we worked for the Venantium, and I don’t feel comfortable with you leaving home with no knowledge of how to control your powers.”

I burst out laughing. “Powers. Right. So, I need to buy a magic wand? Is there like a Hogwarts for uni students?”

“Claudia,” said Mum. “We’re only looking out for you. In Blackstone, there will be other people like you. The Venantium themselves live there. It’s up to you if you want to join, of course, but—”

“Secret society? Sign me up.” I stopped laughing as, not for the first time, the very real implications of that sank in. “Seriously, though. It’s my life. It’s not yours to control. Or theirs, whoever the hell they are. They sound like crazy cultists.”

A secret group that tried to get every magic-user to register with them so they could make them do whatever they wanted? Ugh.

“Not happening,” I said. “I’m not letting anyone mess with my life.”

“I thought you were undecided on where to go?” said Dad.

“Yeah, but I want the choice. Besides, I don’t know anything about this Blackstone place.”

Honestly, university was university. I wanted the experience more than anything, and I didn’t much care where I went as long as it wasn’t here. Any generic arts course at any university suited me just fine. But the idea of following in my parents’ footsteps left a bad taste in my mouth. Stupid, really, given that I could see freaking
demons.

Yeah. Maybe I should go to the no-demon zone.

The careers advisor at school was no help, telling me to follow my interests. Well, I liked parties and listening to music. I was an okay dancer before I had to give up lessons because of my exams. I had a lead role in my school’s production of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
as Hermia. Look, most eighteen-year-olds haven’t won prizes or played sports on a national level or reached Grade Eight cello. I’m not on the “Gifted and Talented” list. Teachers are lucky if I don’t sleep through their lessons. I’m no role model. Maybe I could teach, but little kids annoy me.

“Claudia, we can’t help you if you don’t help yourself. It’s your choice,” said the careers advisor, who’d also confided to me that she’d originally wanted to go to drama school, but instead had ended up coming back to advise
us
on our future decisions. Oh, irony is a bitch.

In the end, I dithered right up until the last minute and then changed my mind on a whim. And again. I had five options on my form, so I put down five different courses at five different universities—arts, media, film production, drama. Yeah. Eclectic, to say the least. And then I waited, deciding to let my grades make the decision for me.

Well, I wasn’t exactly an A-grade student, and I hadn’t put a load of effort in last year. It was too late to make up the difference, and four of my university choices rejected me outright. Only Blackstone offered me a place on their Media Studies course.

“You can reapply, if you don’t want to go there,” Mum had said, when I told her.

Huh. Strangely, her telling me that Blackstone accepted virtually all applications because there were so few of them—after all, it was kind of off-grid, and most people skimmed over it on the forms without seeing it—didn’t do wonders for my confidence.

Staying at home and taking a gap year didn’t appeal. Stay home and do what? I couldn’t afford to travel, and most places weren’t hiring. Another year at home with my parents on my back and demons appearing at every corner? No thanks.

So, there was only one option, really.

I make a habit of reinventing myself every year, partly out of curiosity, partly from boredom. One year, I was the smart-alec, foul-mouthed, talking back to the teachers, not giving a shit. The next year, I was the nerdy girl with braces and a pen tucked behind her ear. For a while, I was the sulky emo kid sitting in the corner wearing way too much eye make-up—and coming from me, that’s saying something. It’s fun to see people’s reactions when I show up dressed completely differently than before, acting like someone else had taken over my mind and given me a totally new personality.

But that wasn’t true. Not even now. See, despite all the disguises and stupid trends, I always had Bethany. Through primary and secondary school we were BFFs, and even though my parents said things would change when we got older, they never did. At least until we started applying to university. We promised to keep in touch, meet up in the holidays, yada yada. It seems so stupid now, but back then, the idea of being thrown to opposite sides of the country was the worst thing that could happen.

Yeah. Naïve much? After the party debacle, she ditched me. I spent the summer alone, waiting on my stupid application form. And now, I was going to be a stranger in a place no one knew who I was.

In the end, I decided I preferred being the happy-go-lucky party girl.

I wasn’t going to be the freak.

started my new life in a thunderstorm, alone, carrying a suitcase and a hell of a bad temper. The transport connections here were so horrendously bad, I spent four freaking
hours
sitting in Preston train station waiting for a connection to Redthorne. And then another hour waiting for the bus to Blackstone, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to ask any local people the way because even the people who lived on the university’s doorstep barely knew it existed. I had Mum and Dad to thank for forewarning me of that.

Yeah, Mum and Dad wanted to drive me up but screw that. I wasn’t going to let them ruin my new start.

“You won’t see any demons in Blackstone,” Mum had told me.

But they might be watching me, anyway
. Which was creepy beyond belief. They didn’t go for privacy much in the Darkworld.

I’m okay. I’ve got this.

I’d never been nervous starting school before, but waiting in Redthorne for the bus to campus, I started to get the shakes. I’d only seen one demon that day, but I’d never got used to the freaky double vision of being able to see shadows that weren’t there. Apparently, I was stuck with it now. From what Mum and Dad had told me, once your connection to the Darkworld snapped on, that was it. No more normal life for me.

My hand kept straying to my pocket, where I’d put the Japanese fan Mum had given me. We’d used it as a prop when she taught me how to use magic so I wouldn’t accidentally set anything on fire.

As a kid, I’d have been thrilled at the idea. Conjuring fire, making lights come on and shut off—I could have had endless fun with it. But Mum and Dad had shot that idea down when they told me the Venantium kept a close eye on any magical activity. And, of course, the demons.

Damn demons had to ruin everything.

I won’t let them control me.

Stupid thing to think when I’d willingly stepped into the Magic Police’s lair. But I could blame my crappy life decisions for that.

“Get away from me!” A yell cut through my self-pity-fest.

I looked up from where I’d been contemplating the rain trailing down the wall of the bus shelter. The blurred shape of a person ran past, down the middle of the road, heedless of the car horns beeping. What kind of idiot ran through traffic like that?

Unless…they were in some kind of trouble?

I thought of the demon I’d seen watching me as the train had pulled into the station. That horrible chill raced up my arms, as if in response to my thoughts. Apparently, it was caused by the Darkworld. Another thrilling perk of my new life.

Anyway, I ignored both the
something-is-wrong
feeling, and the instinct to stay out of the rain, and dropped my backpack, moving out of the bus shelter. I’d made the mistake of wearing my thigh-high heeled boots, which were a bitch to walk in when carrying luggage, but now, I felt kind of badass, going to help the girl in the road.

At least, until I saw what was chasing her.

If it were me, I’d have run out into traffic, too. The creature was like a child’s drawing of a monster come to life, a furry, fanged, snarling bundle of shadows about the height of a car. It shambled forward, and I could make out claws and sharp teeth, and suddenly, I wished I’d stayed in the shelter. I looked around. No one else seemed to have noticed the monstrosity right in the middle of traffic. Several cars swerved slightly, drivers frowning as though not sure what they’d almost collided with.

That alone told me the creature belonged to the Darkworld.

Oh, God. I wanted out of there. My heart pounded in my ears, and my feet itched to make a run for it—but there was the other girl, leaning on a parked car, out of breath. She looked up, and our eyes met. Something about the utter terror on her face made me pause and not give into the instinct to run a million miles away.