Chapter 1 – Mors Certa, Hora Incerta
A world away from the shimmering lights and merry laughter of Bourbon Street, Vivian Wolfhart found herself crouching in a dingy back alley scanning the filthy dark concrete. She could smell the metallic tang of demon ichor in the crisp winter night, and she knew whatever had left the stench must not be far behind. It was a soundless night, and the combination of the black, starless sky and such an unnatural silence was unnerving. Even with a fresh sight rune on her shoulder, she had to squint into the gloom of the alley, searching for a sign of the retreating demon. A glimmering in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she looked over to find the black liquid she had been seeking. Pushing her thick blonde braid behind her shoulder, she examined the sticky puddle. The thick trail of splattered ichor led further down the alley for as far as her eyes could see. Any creature that could have left such an awful amount of ichor must be a monster indeed.
"Sera! Jude!" she called. "Over here!" The sound of running footsteps followed, and in a seconds time her sister and parabatai were at her side. She could sense Jude was wary of the eerie stillness of the night, the uncanny quiet that was a rarity this close to the heart of New Orleans. Standing up, she turned to her two companions. Jude stood with one hand on his hip, a glistening seraph blade clenched in the other. His brown hair was a windswept mess, and in his dark eyes you could see the crazed, eager anticipation for a wild fight.
"You stuck it good there, Sera." He said. "It would have had to be thrashing about like a mad man to leave a trail like this behind."
Sera laughed. "I know where I stabbed it. Even if we don't find it, it should be dead within the hour. Come on." She broke into a brisk jog down the alley, the witchlight in her palm reflecting off the wet brick walls. Vivian and Jude followed close behind, keeping pace with each other, with Vivian watching behind them and Jude checking the sky above. They watched out for the other, the way all parabatai did. Jude just barely avoided crashing into Sera when she stopped abruptly at the end of the alley in front of a wide expanse of brick.
"Look down." She observed. "The trail just stops here. There's not a spot on the wall at all, but the trail just stops."
Vivian scrutinized the scene in front of her. A long trail of ichor that lead to a dead end. The creature was obviously badly injured, so it would have been looking to flee, not stand and fight. With no apparent trail ahead, there was but one option left. "It must have doubled back on the same path when it saw it couldn't pass this way." She concluded. "Come on, we're wasting time here."
Sera made no move, her cold eyes easily dismissing the younger girl's theory. "No, little sis, we would have passed it. It was injured, and there's no way a healthy Flauros demon could have covered that much distance that fast."
Nothing set Vivian's blood on fire more than when Sera treated Vivian's contributions to the hunt as a child's foolish ramblings. Though only a year older, Sera behaved as if she was ages wiser, infinitely stronger, and altogether better than both Vivian and Jude. While she loved her sister, sometimes she hated her. "Well then," she retorted. "Do you suppose it just took off into the sky like a great dragon and flew away? Flauros demons can't fly, need I remind you."
Sera scoffed and rolled her eyes. "No, of course not. But I know where I stabbed it and there's not a chance it could have passed us unseen."
Jude, so used to their frequent bickering, acted as the voice of reason. "Wolfharts, may I sugg-"
But Jude was cut off as a great black mass fell from the sky in a flurry of claws and teeth. The Flauros demon landed on top of Jude, knocking him to the ground, slashing at him with its razor sharp nails. He was utterly defenseless, for his seraph blade had been knocked from his hand during the initial attack, and the cat-like demon had his hands pinned underneath him. Vivian quickly recovered from the initial shock of the attack and swiftly sprung into action. Sera was already on top of the demon, delivering a strong kick to the creature's bulky torso. It rolled off Jude, a deep growl rumbling in the back of its throat. Turning to Vivian, it bared its teeth and curled into position. It pounced, but she was ready. She dodged the attack, jumping to the side at the last second. As the demon flew by her, she struck out with her seraph blade and made contact. The demon let out an ear-splitting cry that pierced the silence of the night.
Sera was there again. She was crouching over top the demon as it cowered on the ground, slowly bleeding out in the last moments of its life. Her seraph blade shone in the moonlight, pressed against its throat. "You're a tricky one, aren't you?" she snarled. Sera always took pleasure in the victory over an opponent, taunting her kills as they died beneath her. "But not smart enough." With a swift flick of her wrist, she pushed her blade through the demons neck. It let out a final cry and vanished in a swirl of silvery mist.
Though the battle was won, it was not a victory yet. Jude lay on the ground, covered in blood, long gashes on his arms and shoulder. Vivian knelt down over her parabatai, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. His dark eyes were wild, his breath coming in great gasps as the poison coursed through his veins. "Jude," she whispered. "It's alright, you're gonna be fine, we just need to get you back to the Institute." She brushed his damp hair back from his forehead. He was burning up already.
"Liar." He breathed. He could always read her face like a book. She reached inside her jacket for her stele and pressed the cool instrument to his skin. She began to trace iratzes on the inside of his arms and the crook of his neck. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Vivian turned to her sister. "Sera, get over here. We need to get him up." She placed her arms under his, trying to lift his tall frame. Grunting, she got him on his feet. But Sera was watching with wide, shocked eyes. For as good as she was in a fight – the best of their age – she had never been able to handle these situations. Her face was almost as pale as Jude, and she was rooted to the ground.
"Sera, come on." Vivian groaned. She swung Jude's arm over her shoulder and let him lean against her. After taking two steps, it was apparent he was much too heavy for her alone to carry. Of all the nights for Louis, another of the Institute's young Shadowhunters, to stay behind. Had he been here now he could have simply lifted Jude like a feather. Jude let out a cry of pain as blood continued to pour from his wounds. Seeing him in agony, something snapped in Sera. In a flash she was at his side, throwing his other arm over her shoulder and supporting the rest of his weight.
Her face was set. "Let's move."
They were not far from the Institute, thankfully, and with both Vivian and Sera's combined efforts, they reached the tall iron gates in just a few minutes. Pushing them open they ascended the white marble steps to the grand doors, being careful not to jostle Jude too much and cause him more pain. He had been silent the entire way back, his eyelids drooping closed. Sera kept slapping his cheek to keep him awake. Once inside the stunning marble entryway, Vivian called out. "Help! Mom! Dad! Louis!"
After a bustle of footsteps as someone came crashing down the hall, Louis appeared, searching madly for his comrade. Upon seeing the blood and ichor covering Jude from head to foot, he exploded. "What the hell, Vivian! What the fuck happened?" He rushed to take Jude from between them, swinging the younger boy's frame into his arms. He wasted no time waiting for a reply, dashing off down the hall, carrying Jude in his arms. Vivian hustled alongside Louis, barely keeping up with his long strides.
"A Flauros demon." She explained. "It attacked from above. Caught us all off guard." They were barreling down the torch lit hall, their footsteps echoing off the smooth marble walls. When at last they had reached the infirmary, Louis carefully laid Jude down on one of the beds. Next to the white sheets, Jude's face was as white as a ghost's.
"Cecilia!" Louis called out. Then he turned back to Vivian, his eyes furious. "How could you have let this happen? You're parabatai, you're supposed to look out for him, not let him get mauled like a gazelle. Do you ever think, Viv?"
Vivian was the only one who Louis ever seemed to take his anger out on. How was any of this her fault? They were Shadowhunters, chasing after demons in the middle of the night was kind of their job. "Why are you taking all this out on me, Beauchene?" she spat. "You didn't even come with us tonight, you said it was going to be a quiet night. That the three of us could handle it. What were you even doing here that was so much more important? Brooding down in your dungeon all night?"
"Just shut up and help me. Cecilia!" he called out again. "Where is your mother? We need to get the Silent Brothers to heal at him, the sooner the better."
Jude was unmoving on the bed. Sometime between their arrival and being carried here by Louis he must have finally fallen unconscious. This is not looking good, not at all, thought Vivian. Jude looked so small lying there, his soft features and peaceful expression making him look very much like an actual angel. She had known Jude since she was twelve and he thirteen, when she had first come to the New Orleans with her parents. Cecilia and Zachary Wolfhart had been assigned to run the Institute after its previous caretakers, Louis's parents, had been killed in a demon attack. At first she had hated the city, hated America, hated everything about this new and strange place. Of course Sera had simply adored being away from Idris, where the chances of a fight were always high. Her parents had not grown up in Idris, so they felt no loyalty leaving a place that was not their home in the first place. She alone had longed for her home back in Idris, where she had been free of having to hide behind glamours, free of demons, downworlders, and mundanes.
Several weeks after their arrival, she had been feeling particularly homesick one night and was crying in her room. She had heard a soft knocking on her door, and when she had opened it Jude had been standing there with a sheepish look about his face. "Go away," she had said, wiping tears from her eyes. She had tried to shut the door in his face, but he had already strode into her room and was settling himself down on the floor, turning to her with his signature puppy-dog-eyes look. Clearly, he had had no intentions of simply leaving.
"Why are you always so mean to me?" he had asked. Jude had been at the Institute for years before the Wolfharts had arrived and had found its new inhabitants a wondrous occurrence. It had been a relief that the new heads of the Institute had children his own age. Not only would he have another friend besides Louis, but the Beauchenes had been the only family he had ever known. He was still deeply saddened by their deaths and longed for a distraction. "Did I do something to make you hate me?"
Vivian had stared at him. He was the first person who had noticed, or at least acknowledged, her obvious hatred for New Orleans and the Institute. She had sighed, too exhausted for her usual amount of bitterness. "No, it's not you." She sat back down on her bed and crossed her legs. Propping her elbows on her knees, she rested her face in her hands. The tears had rolled down her face freely. It was as if the wall she had put up was finally breaking. Jude moved to sit next to her on the bed.
"If there's one thing I've learned from life here at the Institute," he had said. "It's that you can't go around living half a life, because you never know how much longer you'll have one to live at all."
She pulled her face from behind her hands to meet his gaze. His eyes were a dark brown, the color of burnt wood, and they seemed to see right through her façade. "I know you miss Idris," he had said. "I would too. It was the only home you'd ever known, and now you're stuck here. But it's not so bad, if you give it a shot."
All the while he talked, Vivian had sat there and listened. She was realizing it was entirely up to her whether to be miserable or not. She could choose to accept her new life in New Orleans, or she could choose to live a half-life full of misery, forever longing for the life she had known in Idris. Harboring all this animosity and bitterness was wearing her down like a river erodes a mighty rock. Her choice was clear. Now she spoke, and her voice trembled. "You just lost your only family, and I've lost my home." She reached out and took his hands, soft in hers. "I can be your family, if you'll be my new home."
He had looked up at her, his mouth curving into a wide grin. "I can do that."
For the first time in what felt like ages, she was smiling. They had spent the rest of that night giggling like school children and swapping stories, Vivian recounting the beauty of the Glass City, and Jude telling her tales of run ins with werewolves and warlocks, and of the fabulous Mardi Gras celebrations of New Orleans. From then on, Vivian had had a more than just a friend in the Institute.
Now, seeing Jude lying there dying while she was helpless to stop it was killing her. In the back of her mind she knew that the Brothers would most likely have no problem healing a basic demon poisoning, but the Brothers were not here to reassure her. It all felt too real. She just wanted to break down and cry all over again, like she had that night so long ago. Jude was her anchor, he was her home. He was not allowed to leave her. "Louis, do something."
His anger had disappeared – now he was just as desperate as she was. Turning to look Vivian in the eyes, he said, "He's like my little brother. I can't..." He broke off, his voice cracking, his eyes shining with tears. She had never seen him look so emotional. Vivian felt the bizarre urge to reach out to him, to brush his dark hair back from his face and comfort him. What an odd thing to think, she thought to herself. He's such a little shit, but I feel for him. Normally he was quite cold to Vivian. Like a protective older brother, he was none too fond of Vivian, since she and Jude were so close, and he thought she led the two of them in to trouble. This was actually quite false, as it was usually Sera who would find trouble and end up dragging a reluctant Vivian and eager Jude along with her.
Speaking of Sera, she had finally reappeared, with their mother at her heels. Cecilia Wolfhart's mouth was a thin line, worry written clearly on her youthful face. She rushed over to Jude's side, her dressing gown a swirl of cloth behind her. Feeling his forehead, she clasped his hand in hers. "I've already called the Brothers. They are on their way. Oh, Judah."
Vivian could not take looking at her parabatai in this wretched state any longer. Every image of his pale, sick face felt like a dagger in her chest. She turned on her heel and fled the room.
