Super Dark 2 (Super Dark Trilogy)

By Tanith Morse

In this highly anticipated sequel, Super Dark 2 finds Sam Harper thrown into a world of horror, excitement and intrigue - a place where terrible dangers lurk and survival is not a certainty. With new foes on the prowl and threats from every corner, will Sam be able to uncover the truth before it is too late?

This is BOOK TWO of The Super Dark Trilogy. It is not a stand-alone novel. If you have not read Super Dark (Part 1) you need to do that first for the best possible reading experience.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tanith Morse
• Release date: Apr 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301751433

Tanith Morse

Tanith Morse grew up in Wandsworth, south London. From a young age she developed a great love of horror films and gothic romances. Her favorite director is Tim Burton and her favorite authors include Charlotte Bronte, Stephenie Meyer and Suzanne Collins. When she isn’t writing, Tanith enjoys directing short films for the festival circuit and looking after her cat, Mambo. An avid tea drinker, Tanith can be found hanging out in cozy London cafes in search of new brews to tease her taste buds. Super Dark is her first YA novel.

Book preview

SUPER DARK 2

By Tanith Morse

Copyright © 2013 by Tanith Morse

Smashwords Edition

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

To my family, thanks for all your support.

About this Book

In this highly anticipated sequel, Super Dark 2 finds Sam Harper thrown into a world of horror, excitement and intrigue—a place where terrible dangers lurk and survival is not a certainty. With new foes on the prowl and threats from every corner, will Sam be able to uncover the truth before it is too late?

This is BOOK TWO of The Super Dark Trilogy. It is not a stand-alone novel. If you have not read Super Dark (Part 1) you need to do that first for the best possible reading experience.

Praise for Super Dark

First thing first this South London raised woman can write a book! Tanith Morse has left me waiting and wanting more more more! Super Dark is her first YA novel so far but I am here to say that I CANNOT WAIT for Super Dark two Nikki’s Book Blog

Your book left me begging for more of your work! The book had equal parts romance, mystery and horror, simply amazing. I loved the chemistry that Samantha and Elliot have together, flawless Amazon Review

This book was a total surprise. Super Dark is a sensational read from start to finish. With a first-class writing style throughout, Super Dark contains a marvelous plot to keep you intrigued from beginning to end. On the whole this was a magnificent read Goodreads Review

I loved discovering the secrets and reading as Sam figured it all out. It was a very interesting book and had a brand new supernatural creature in it, at least new to me. Major cliff-hanger ending YA Teen Readers Book Blog

4.5 Stars. A brilliant paranormal romance for Older YA. This is different to most books I have read, the premise is unusual and the book screeches at you from the start, like nails down a blackboard Goodreads Review

This is literally one of those can’t put it down books. I was completely enthralled and I will definitely purchase the next book when it comes out!!! Amazon Review

I could not put this book down, I ended up staying up late one night to finish it. I can’t wait for the next book. It was so refreshing for the supernatural to be something different from most everything else out there Goodreads Review

Can’t wait for the sequel!! I am literally checking every day for the release date of part 2. Great story and keep the books coming!!! Amazon Review

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

About this Book

Praise for Super Dark

Join My Facebook Group!

ONE Descent

TWO Albion

THREE Judgement Day

FOUR Gilda

FIVE Dark Proposal

SIX Dinner with Ebon

SEVEN Confrontations

EIGHT The Wedding

NINE Night Creatures

TEN Masquerade

ELEVEN Ambush

TWELVE Reunion

THIRTEEN Shakti Briscoe

FOURTEEN The Big Bang

FIFTEEN The Proposition

More Super Dark

Thank You!

About the Author

Also by Tanith Morse

ONE

Descent

Fear sat beside me like a silent passenger. We’d been on the motorway for more than two hours, and still I couldn’t shake the horror I’d felt at the start of the journey. Nervously, I glanced toward my traveling companion. The hands that gripped the steering wheel were huge, gnarled, and hairy, the nails serrated like knives. Even in the gloom of the Lotus Esprit, it was clear that they were not human hands. They belonged to something so monstrous, so unspeakable, that just the sight of them turned my legs to jelly.

It hadn’t always been this way. Less than four hours ago, the creature sitting beside me had been Elliot Marsh, my childhood best friend who, when he was himself, had a face most guys would trade their souls for. Now a cruel twist of fate had cursed him with a body so hideous that he could make a grown man faint.

Numbly, I rolled back against the headrest and looked out the window. All around were fields of never ending blackness, the trees nothing but silhouettes against the cobalt sky. We were driving through the middle of nowhere, heading toward a destination I dared not even contemplate—a place where dark things awaited and survival was not a certainty.

How much further to Stoneheath? I asked. It feels like we’ve been driving for ages.

Not much longer now, Elliot growled. We’ll be there in the next thirty minutes.

Expelling a sigh, I pressed my fingers to my swollen head. It still felt sore from where I’d bumped it earlier but after the ordeal I’d had, I counted myself lucky to be alive.

It had been a night of shocking events. A night that even now I found difficult to believe was real. On top of learning that my best friend was a monster, my mother’s boyfriend, Greg, had tried to kill me. Luckily, Elliot had come to my rescue and we’d escaped by the skin of our teeth, but the nightmare was far from over and I wondered if we’d make it through the night.

How’s your head? Elliot murmured. I hope you’re not in any pain?

No, I’m fine, I replied brusquely.

Are you sure?

Positive.

We lapsed into silence. A light from a passing jeep fleetingly brushed his silhouette, then dropped it back into darkness, and I was grateful for the thick swathes of blankets covering his face. In the greenish glow of the dashboard, it was impossible to make out his features, which was just as well. Elliot wasn’t a man anymore. He belonged to a secret race of beast-like creatures known as Gresvelts.

Discreetly, I stole another glance at the gruesome figure in the driver’s seat. It was hard to believe how intimate we’d been only a few short hours ago. In human form, Elliot had finally confessed the depth of his feelings for me, making declarations of love that had left me breathless. Foolishly, I’d kissed him, unaware of the catastrophic repercussions. Any strong emotion—lust, anger, fear—could trigger his transformation into a Gresvelt. Our kiss had been so passionate that he hadn’t been able to change back since.

Are you cold, Sam? Elliot asked softly.

I shook my head. No, I’m fine.

Wordlessly, he switched on the heater and a blast of hot air filled the car.

Thank you, I whispered.

No problem.

Closing my eyes, I gently traced my fingers across my lips, reminiscing about how good his kiss had felt. The warmth of his tongue, his mouth, his breath… The way he’d set my whole body alight, consuming me with a desire unlike any I’d ever known.

A black despair pierced my heart. That was the first and last kiss we’d ever share. Now that I knew what he was, knew what effect I had on him, there was no way I’d ever let him get that close to me again.

What are you thinking about? Elliot deep voice snapped me from my reverie. You looked as if you were really concentrating.

It’s nothing, I said quickly. Just a bit tired, that’s all.

Hmph. He decided not to pursue the matter further.

The car slowed to a crawl as we veered off the motorway onto a narrow country lane. Gravel crunched beneath the tires, a dark expanse of wheat fields stretching out before us like a somber Constable painting. A flock of startled sheep stampeded past the bonnet as the headlights disturbed them from their hideout.

I didn’t like this one little bit. Where does this road lead to? I asked fearfully.

He didn’t answer.

Shrinking down in my seat, I braced myself for what was coming.

Five minutes later, we reached a wide clearing in the fields where the lane branched out into a crossroads.

Elliot parked the car and got out.

Stay here, he warned. Whatever happens, don’t come out unless I tell you to. Got that?

I nodded mutely. Through the gloom, I saw a large wooden signpost erected in the middle of the crossroads that read: Four Roads End. Beneath it were four arrows pointing in different directions. The one pointing south read: Stoneheath—Ten Miles.

I smothered a gasp. Elliot at his full height was truly a dreadful sight to behold. Even with the blanket covering his face, it couldn’t disguise the full hideousness of his appearance. By the light of the moon, I saw his back was twisted and misshapen, his powerful arms swaying by his sides like a gorilla, his walk a propulsive gait. If he looked this scary at night, I shuddered to think what he was like in the daytime.

Elliot wandered toward the signpost and stood there a moment, as if waiting for something. Sticking two fingers in his mouth, he gave a shrill whistle that almost burst my eardrums.

For a second nothing happened. Then, from somewhere at the back of the wheat fields, I heard the crunch of approaching footsteps and out of the shadows stepped a wizened old man. He was dressed like a Saxon warrior, his body sagging beneath a sheepskin tunic that was held together by strips of leather. He wore his shoes like slippers, the backs flattened by his crusty heels. He wore a spherical helmet with devil horns on his head, and in his hands, he carried a rusty shield and spear.

Slowly, the old man shuffled toward the signpost and muttered something inaudible to Elliot.

Torzaz miracaba mort fe bragnart, Elliot replied.

Ra ma kel sejava, the man chuckled.

I realized then that they were speaking Ghunnaic, the language of the Gresvelts.

After a few more exchanges, the old man nodded his approval and limped back into the wheat field.

Elliot returned to the car. It’s fine. We can continue our journey.

Who was that? I asked.

Morcant—the keeper of the crossroads, he said, matter-of-factly.

What were you saying to him?

I was giving him the secret password. No one can cross this road unless they know it.

"And what exactly is the password?"

Come on Sam, it wouldn’t be a secret if I told you. Besides, the words are in Ghunnaic so you wouldn’t understand anyway.

Ghunnaic, I murmured. Is that what all Gresvelts speak?

No, they speak English mostly. Ghunnaic is a dying language. Only the Gresvelt gypsies still speak it fluently. Other than that, we really only use it for ceremonial purposes.

I thought for a moment. So what does this Morcant guy do? Stand around all night waiting for someone to drive past?

Don’t be fooled by his appearance, Elliot said. Morcant has been doing this job for hundreds of years and no one has ever passed him without giving the password.

Hold on, you’re telling me that guy is a couple hundred years old?

Yes, he sighed. Now please, can we get going?

We drove again in silence until the Lotus reached the edge of a vast forest populated by trees so huge I couldn’t see the tops. Each must have been about four hundred feet in height, thirty feet in diameter, with horizontal branches that seemed to go on forever. The leaves were shaped like enormous five-pointed stars and were big enough for a human to hammock in. It was like a forest for giants, and I shuddered to think what might be lurking there, especially at night.

Elliot turned off the engine. Okay, we’re here. Time to get out. The village is just beyond the forest. This is as far as the car goes.

No way, I said. I’m not going in there.

Then I’ll have to leave you here. But remember, what lurks in the forest doesn’t necessarily stay in the forest. Catch my drift?

I swallowed. Well, if you put it like that … I climbed out and was instantly hit by a gust of cold air. I’d forgotten I was barefoot and wearing only my pajamas. We’d fled London in such haste that I hadn’t had time to dress, and now I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, freezing my butt off. This night really couldn’t get any worse.

Hugging my arms for warmth, I tried to stop my teeth from chattering. Okay, I think I can do this.

You don’t have much choice, Elliot said.

Readjusting the blanket round his face like a shawl, he walked confidently toward the forest. I lagged behind, struggling to keep up with him. Almost immediately, a fallen branch cut into my foot, making me cry out with pain.

What’s wrong? he snarled. Did you hurt yourself?

I trod on a bloody twig!

His tone softened a little. Of course. I forgot you don’t have any shoes on. I’m such an idiot.

It’s not your fault. Crouching down, I picked the wood out of my heel and inspected the damage. It was sore but no blood had been drawn. Thank god.

Climb on my back and I’ll carry you, Elliot offered.

No thanks. I didn’t mean to sound so abrupt, but the idea of being that close to him terrified me.

This forest runs for miles, he continued. Are you really ready to do that trek in bare feet? You’ll be cut and bleeding before we’ve even started.

Even so, I’d like to at least take a shot at it. I was trying not to look at him, trying to pretend I wasn’t conversing with a monster. I only partly succeeded.

You’re unbelievable. In one swift maneuver, he scooped me off the ground and threw me onto his back. Wrap your legs around me and hold on tight.

Tentatively, I did as he ordered, my legs trembling as they encircled his huge waist. When he was satisfied I was positioned comfortably, he started moving through the forest at a brisk pace, stopping every so often to check that I was okay. I found it kind of sweet.

After a while, my fear began to subside a little and I settled into the rocky rhythm of his irregular gait. The blanket felt surprisingly soft against my cheek, although his fur had a strong, musty odor that turned my stomach.

I closed my eyes, trying to remember how different his body had felt when he was human—how sculptured, strong, and perfect. For so long I’d yearned to be close to Elliot, yearned for him to hold me, but not like this. Not while he was this … this creature.

Twenty minutes passed and he showed no signs of tiring. All around, the forest was silent and still except for the occasional hoot of owls. The path ahead seemed like an endless black hole, as though there was a murderous conspiracy to snare unwary travelers. I wondered if we’d ever make it out alive.

Elliot, I’m scared.

Me too, he admitted. But if we stick together, we can get through this. I love you.

I wished I could return the sentiment, but somehow I just couldn’t. Not right now anyway. Love wasn’t a word I bandied around lightly, and I certainly wouldn’t say it unless I meant it. Yesterday, I’d fleetingly thought that I did love him, but since the terrifying revelations of the past few hours, I wasn’t sure what I felt anymore.

Gradually, my head started to clear. The dull ache that had been throbbing in my temples had vanished and been replaced by gentle waves of prickly heat. The swelling had gone too and I realized, with a shock, that this was Elliot’s doing.

Now I knew what Frasier was talking about.

A few weeks ago, one of my good friends, Frasier Harrison, had slipped and broken his leg at a party. He’d made a miraculous recovery, which he’d always attributed to Elliot. At the time, I hadn’t believed such things were possible but now, feeling the force of this energy, I knew it was true. Elliot was healing me and making me stronger with his amazing power.

Thank you, I whispered.

You’re welcome.

Eventually, we reached the end of the forest and stepped out into a vast expanse of fields. On the hilltop above, the rising moon waxed brightly over the trees.

There it is, Elliot said, pointing. There’s Stoneheath.

I squinted at a bunch of twinkling lights in the distance, but we weren’t close enough to make out the details. With superhuman strides, Elliot ran through the fields at an alarming pace and, within minutes, we were standing near enough to see the place properly.

Stoneheath was a picturesque village set on the side of a sloping hill, in the shadow of an imposing Georgian mansion. There was a glistening river at the bottom, a pub, a church, and dozens of little thatched cottages scattered haphazardly along the face of the hill. It was the sort of place you’d find in Country Life magazine: reassuringly rustic and quintessentially English.

Except that it wasn’t. Stoneheath was the heartbeat of the Gresvelt community—their own personal Mecca.

Not far to go now, Elliot breathed, stamping up the hill in the direction of the manor house.

Five minutes later, we reached two stone pillars that announced the entrance to Albion Hall. Slowing his pace, Elliot set me on the ground and told me I’d be okay to walk the rest of the way.

I stood for a moment, awestruck at the opulence of the place. Albion Hall was a marvel of Georgian architecture: a house made of white sandstone with mullioned windows and sweeping, park-like lawns leading up to a grand, pillared entrance.

Wow, this house is amazing, I gasped.

Elliot made no comment.

Silently, I followed him up the lawn to the magnificent marble steps and stood waiting while he rang the doorbell.

Within seconds, a portly butler appeared. Master Elliot, you’re back, he exclaimed. His Lordship will be so happy.

Without answering, Elliot breezed past him into the majestic entrance hall. Good to see you, Stevens. Is Lord Albion up? I need to speak with him urgently.

His Lordship is asleep, I’m afraid, Stevens said. Shall I take that shawl, sir? He gestured to the blanket on Elliot’s head.

No thank you.

A side door flew open and the gray-haired housekeeper raced out. She was a pleasant-faced woman in her sixties, with warm brown eyes and a mouth creased by laugh lines.

Master Elliot, so marvelous to see you again! she trilled. We’ve missed you so much.

Hello, Mrs. Wiggins, Elliot greeted. Nice to see you too. Any chance you can wake Lord Albion? It’s an emergency.

His Lordship cannot be disturbed, she said softly, glancing at me. Whatever needs to be discussed, I suggest you do it in the morning. We are under strict instructions not to wake him, no matter how pressing the engagement.

Elliot grew more and more agitated. This is ridiculous. Our lives are in danger and you tell me you mustn’t disturb Lord Albion’s beauty sleep?

Now, now, Master Elliot, Mrs. Wiggins soothed. There’s no point getting upset. Rules are rules.

My eyes narrowed. She had the tell-tale ring tattoo on the middle finger of her right hand—a band of five-pointed stars that was the mark of the Gresvelts. Both she and Stevens also spoke with the same strange accent as Elliot. The one that sounded kind of northern, but unlike any I’d ever come across.

Now, it’s the middle of the night, Mrs. Wiggins continued. The two of you must have had an awfully long journey, so I suggest I show you to your rooms so you can both get some sleep. Don’t worry; I’m sure things will look better in the morning. They always do. In the meantime, would either of you like something to stave off the cold? A glass of wine perhaps?

We’re absolutely fine, Mrs. Wiggins. Thank you, Elliot said.

She looked a little wounded, but managed to smooth it away with a smile. As you wish, sir. If it’s all right with you, I’ll take the young lady up to her room now, and Mr. Stevens will show you to yours.

That won’t be necessary, Elliot replied. "I think I can remember the way. I haven’t been away for that long. But please see to it that my friend’s properly taken care of."

Of course, Mrs. Wiggins nodded. We’ll treat her like she’s one of our own.

And could you find her some fresh clothes for the morning? he added. She forgot to bring any.

Certainly. Mrs. Wiggins turned to me, a kind smile creasing her ruddy cheeks. Follow me, young lady.

I shuffled my feet. Um, I don’t know if I should…

It’s all right, Sam, Elliot said gently. Mrs. Wiggins will take very good care of you. She’s been my guardian angel on more than one occasion. Go with her and we’ll talk in the morning.

I hesitated, shifting my weight nervously.

Go with her, he repeated. Really, it’s all right.

Reluctantly, I followed the housekeeper through the stately entrance hall into a winding corridor that led to the second floor. Fleetingly, I took note of where all the doors were situated in case I needed to make a quick escape. The décor of the corridor was spectacular, the red walls covered with dozens of paintings of distinguished-looking people in heavy gilt frames. I wondered if they were Lord Albion’s ancestors.

Eventually, we stopped in front of an exquisitely carved door at the end of the long corridor. It’s so nice to have a visitor from outside of Stoneheath, Mrs. Wiggins commented, pulling out a bunch of keys. We don’t get much foreigners round these parts.

I’m not exactly a foreigner, I said. I’m only from London. Not exactly another continent, is it?

She gave a low whistle. "My goodness, London. That’s still awfully far though, isn’t it?"

I smiled. I wasn’t sure what else I could do.

Grinning broadly, she tried the first key in the lock. It didn’t fit, so she tried another, and another. I’m so sorry about this, but it’s been so long since we’ve used the guest room, I forget which key it is.

It was hard to believe this sweet old lady and the butler Stevens were shape-shifting monsters. They both seemed so nice and normal. However, like everything else in Stoneheath, nothing was what it seemed and I knew I had to keep my wits about me.

Ah, here we go, Mrs. Wiggins said at last. The door creaked open and she led me up two sets of spiral stone steps to the second floor.

Inside the guest room, it was nice and cozy, with exposed beams, a huge fireplace, and antique furniture embossed in red and gold. In the center of the room, dominating everything, was an enormous bed with ebony gargoyles carved in each corner. Contrary to what she’d said, the bed was perfectly made, and there was even a bottle of wine and a glass on the dresser, almost as if they’d been expecting me.

Well, I hope this is to your liking, Mrs. Wiggins said, casting a critical eye over our surroundings. It’s not perfect but we do try our best.

I think it’s great, I sighed. Suddenly, I felt a deep pang of exhaustion and longed to crash out on that big, marvelous bed.

Mrs. Wiggins still didn’t look happy. Hmm, it’s a little drafty in here. Let me get the fire started. She went over to a bucket by the fireplace, took out some logs, old newspapers, and kindling, and got to work setting the fire. In no time at all, the room began to heat up.

Right, that’s done, said Mrs. Wiggins, dusting herself down. Before I go, are you sure there isn’t anything else I can get you?

Oh no, I’m fine, honestly. You’ve done enough already.

Then I wish you a pleasant night. Do ring me if you need anything. She glanced at a bell-pull set in the wall beside the fireplace.

Thank you. Good night, Mrs. Wiggins.

Good night.

Turning on her heel, she dimmed the lights and scurried out of the room.

Releasing a pent-up sigh, I wandered over to the window and watched the widening dawn streak the night sky. It