Brother Zachariah stepped in to the Library of the New York Institute, thankful for the emptiness he found when taking a brief glance around the wide circular room. He would rather do this alone, the young Shadowhunters residing here could be ever so inquisitive, and he did not feel ready to tell them of his past, despite the fact that he was becoming rather fond of the witty Herondale boy.
He reminds me so much of-
He stopped himself before he could go any further. Bringing back those memories could only do harm, and he did not want to make a show of himself; somebody could come through those doors any second.
He hurried toward the winding staircase across the room, passing a mahogany desk piled up with papers, which was not unlike the desk of his old Institute.
No, you've learned to keep these memories down, don't spoil it now. Remember what Brother Enoch taught you.
He glided up the stairs, his parchment coloured robes swaying around his feet. He still couldn't get used to the elegant, and rather eery way the Silent Brothers moved, even after all these years of 'gliding' himself.
At the top of the stairs, on the gallery, were glass cases, containing not only books, but objects of power, works of art, and things of great beauty. If what he had gathered from the young girl Clarissa's memories had been correct, it would be in the third case on the left.
He could not bring himself to look, but instead drew his eyes to the ground, and stared at the wooden floor of the library.
What if it's not there? What if I've raised my hopes up, and all for nothing?
He had rushed here as soon as he had the opportunity, after he had discovered what he had from Clarissa's testimony on the events pertaining to Jonathan Morgenstern's search for power. She had confessed to stealing the rings created by the Fair Folk, and had allowed him access into her mind, under the Clave's request, in order to confirm what she was saying to be true. He had not doubted her, she had become a reliable young Shadowhunter over the past few months, and had no reason to lie, but he had still followed the orders of the Brothers. He had learned not to question their methods in the hundred and thirty years since he had been inducted into the sect. She had briefly glimpsed the object he desired, and it had flashed through her mind so fast, any other Silent Brother would have missed it. But he had recognised it instantly.
A stream of chatter coming through the window behind him alerted him to the elder Lightwoods' arrival, back from a meeting with the Conclave. He did not have long. Tearing his eyes from the floor, he glanced up at the glass case he had been standing in front of. If he had been a mundane, he would have gasped.
It is here. It has been here all this time, right under my nose.
Behind the glass, sitting in the centre of the shelf, sat a familiar golden angel pendant, with clockwork wings of cogs and gears. He stumbled back, falling onto his knees, staring into empty space. One word echoed around his mind, one name. A name that he had not dare to think of in many years.
Tessa…