CHAPTER 3 – Shadowhunters

The first thing Joanna was aware of was the rocking motion of being carried as she regained consciousness. Then the feel of muscular arms around her and the tap of footsteps on stone floors. Her head pounded, and she could almost feel her blood pump through the bruise that had flowered on her left temple. Inexplicably, her upper right arm ached. She struggled to open her eyes and found herself staring up at the strong jaw line of the same blond-haired, grey-eyed boy who attacked her.

With a small sort-of shriek, she began to struggle, kicking out with her legs and pushing with her arms. Pain lanced through her head and her vision went white for a moment; she found herself limp and gasping on the floor with the boy leaning over her.

He was pulling out a small, pen-shaped object that looked like some kind of stylus. It was a silvery-white colour, almost emitting its own light. She turned her head away from him weakly when he moved the thing towards her, and he muttered, "Stop struggling."

She let out another cry as the tip of the stylus touched her skin with a burning sensation that wasn't entirely unpleasant. He drew something on her with nimble fingers and she felt her head clear, the dizziness slowly fading.

"Come on," he said, pulling her up again, surprisingly gentle and with a slight frown. "Head injuries are tricky, so you're going to have to see Remington."

She jerked away from him, terror welling up in her. Where was she? What had happened? Who was this boy and what did her want with her? It seemed they were standing in a shady church, in the center aisle with rows and rows of pews on either side. Shafts of light poured in through the skylights, illuminated swirls of dust in the air. Instead of Jesus on the cross on the back wall behind the alter, there was an enormous painting of an angel, his wings spread wide, rising out of a lake holding a cup in one hand and a sword in the other. Behind the boy were large, ornate doors that she knew must lead outside.

"Come on," he said again, a little more impatiently this time as he reached for her arm.

"Asher, let the poor girl be. She's clearly scared out of her mind, white as a ghost!" The boy, Asher, turned.

"Hey Rem," he said. The man Asher spoke to looked timeless – he could have been twenty-five or forty, Joanna couldn't tell. All she knew was that he had an air of knowledge and a certain kindness in his eyes. Jo stood there, hands trembling. She looked down at what the boy had drawn on her and saw what looked like a tattoo burned into the skin of her forearm, similar to those that he had on his.

How was that possible?

"Joanna Devereau?"

"Yes?" she replied, her voice small and raspy.

"My name is John Remington. I'm the keeper of this place, the Victoria Institute."

Victoria? Joanna was shocked. Did that mean that the boy had taken her all the way onto Vancouver Island? And the Victoria Institute of what?

"I know this may be quite confusing to you, and I wish your mother were here to explain, though I doubt she would be happy about it," he said with a slight grimace.

"My mother?" she squeaked. What the heck did her mother have to do with this?

"Yes, well, she's currently away on business," Remington said. Yes, Joanna thought, clinging to something solid, something she knew for sure. Mom was on a business trip in Ontario. She trusted Jo not to get into trouble. Uh oh. This was trouble, wasn't it? "Apparently the Toronto Institute needed reinforcements to capture a notorious Italian rogue vampire."

Now Joanna looked at him like he was out of his mind. Vampires? She'd read her fair share of novels on the subject, so she was familiar with both the evil and the sparkly kind. But they didn't exist.

"You're crazy," she said, almost frantically. "Insane. Vampires don't exist. Just let me go back home–"

"A lot more things, worse things, than vampires exist," Asher suddenly spoke up, watching Jo with his curious grey eyes. "There are demons and warlocks, faeries and werewolves–"

"Asher, stop it, you're only frightening her," Remington began to scold, but Joanna spoke over him.

"No there aren't," she said, and now her voice trembled too. "Those things don't exist." They can't. They can't exist. But something far down inside her told her that Asher was right, what he said was true.

"You know they do," he said, voicing her deepest thoughts. "Even if your mother blocked your Sight."

"My… Sight?"

"Your ability to see the creature of the Shadow World," Remington said. "All Shadowhunters are born with it, though for some it is crippled and must be taught. You say her Sight was blocked?" Remington asked Asher.

"Yeah, there was a Blocking rune on her shoulder," he replied, never taking his eyes off Joanna. "I undid it."

Joanna was vaguely aware of the heaviness in her right shoulder, but her mind was caught on one word and she repeated it faintly.

"Shadowhunters?"