Authors' Note: We do not own the characters, even Willow. All rights go to Cassandra Clare.
Chapter Four
The first month into searching for the girl, was a interesting mix of both frustration, and excitement. During this time, much to Willow's enjoyment, spent most of the time away from the institute, only ever stopping in to report and replace damaged tools. However to her dismay, her alone time with Jem was cut short by Henry joining the the mission. Unfortunately for her and Jem, any information about the places in the Downworld, she herself was familiar with, did very little to give info they wanted. Willow found herself getting exasperated the longer they screeched, but finally after so much effort. They found themselves standing outside the Pandemonium Club, a haven for both vile Downworlders and filthy mundanes alike, a place that hand their hands in gambling, prostitution, and many other things that made Willow's skin crawl as she looked at the main building.
"The smell alone is enough to put a man out on his backside," Henry says, as they approach the doors.
"According to our intel, we will find out more about this dagger and its owners from this place," Jem says weakly before letting out another cough. Willow maintains her ready to go looking expression, so Jem does not see her worrying about him. The trio walks in and splits up as they move through the bar. The plan was to search the rest of the building discreetly, so sneaking past the few patrons that lingered in the main area one at a time was the key. Willow soon finds her way to a door, and with a quick motion of her stele and light steps, she is through and moving down the hallway. As she wanders the halls, she thinks inwardly if Jem and Henry have found their way inside behind her yet. She tries opening door that must have lead to a bedroom, but finds trouble opening it at first, but soon it comes free with a low creek. She takes a step into the shadows of the room, but hears a quick motion.
'Damn!' Willow thinks as she moves with whip like speed, but it was to late, and he outstretched arm to grab her attacker was hit with something hard, yet clearly breakable as it bursts into shards after contact.
"By all the nine hells! Damn it!" she curses as she holds her now bleeding arm as a figure moves past her to the door, trying to force it open again with little success. Willow draws out her witchlight, filling the room with such a strong light that it looks to have nearly blinded the girl….wait, girl? The same girl in question turned back to Willow..and seemed stare at her strangely. She seemed to be mundane, nothing out of the ordinary, curly brown hair, storm gray eyes. She seemed to shake where she stood.
Willow snaps the girl back to reality with her words, "You cut me" she says flatly, raising up her hand to study the wound, finding it slightly amusing that despite her training, a mundane got the drop on her, "It might be fatal."
"Are you the magister?" the girl asks Willow as she continues to speak, tilting her hand to the side as blood ran down it, spattering on the floor.
"Dear me, massive blood lose. Death could be imminent"
"Are the magister?" the girl asks again.
"Magister?" Willow is mildly surprised by her vehemence, "That mean's, 'Master', in latin doesn't it?" she questions the girl.
The young woman seems taken aback by her question ,"I…..I suppose it does" she says finally.
"I've mastered many things in my life. Navigating the streets of London, dancing the quadrille, the Japanese art of flower arranging, lying at charades, concealing a highly intoxicated state, delighting young men with my charms…" Willow says in long tirade, laughing inwardly as the girl stares baffled at her, pausing as she thinks…all but one man…then continuing, "Alas, no one has ever actually referred to me as ' the master' or 'the magister', either. More's the pity"
"Are you highly intoxicated?" The girl says in the middle of Willows speech, seeming the question to be serious.
"How very direct, but I suppose all you Americans are, aren't you?" Willow smirks, amused by her question. "Yes, your accent gives you away. What's your name, then?"
The girl looks at her in disbelief. "What's my name?"
"Don't you know it?"
"You-You've come bursting into my room, scared me nearly to death, and now you demand to know my name? What on Earth's your name? And who are you, anyway?" The girl snaps.
'Demand? Ha!, you're the one that hit me, you toss-pot!' Willow thinks inwardly as her cheerful tone spoke different words, "My name is Herondale, Willow Herondale. Is this really your room? Not very nice is it." She wanders towards the window, examining the stacks of BOOKS on the girls bedside table, and then the bed itself. She waves a hand at the ropes, "do you often sleep tied to the bed?" she asks, instead of outwardly asking if the girl was tortured on a daily basis.
Willow knows this girl is not part of the original mission, but she is in danger, and as a shadowhunter, it is her duty to rescue people. "Hold this." She said, handing the girl her witchlight before stalking back to the window. She looks out, determining the base escape plan for them, but dismays at the height. "Pity we are at the third floor. I could manage the jump, but it would probably kill you. No, we must go through the door and take our chances in the house."
"Go through the-what?" the girl shakes her head in confusion, "I don't understand"
"How could you not understand?" Willow points at her BOOKS. "You read novels. Obviously, I'm here to rescue you. Don't I look like Sir Galahad?" She raised her arms dramatically. "My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure-"
Something echoes, far away inside the house- the sound of a door slamming. Willow curses and springs away from the window. She knows that neither Jem nor Henry would make this much noise, so it was time to speed up is operation/rescue mission. She lands with a wince, and glances ruefully at her injured hand. "I'll need to take care of this later. Come along.." She looks pointedly, a question in her eyes.
"Miss Gray" the girl says faintly," Miss Theresa Gray"
"Miss gray" Willow repeated. " Come along then miss gray." She springs past her, moves towards the door, finds the knob, turns it, yanks it - Nothing happens
"It wont work" Miss Gray said, "The door cannot be opened from the inside."
Willow grins ferociously. "Can't it?" She draws out her stele and starts drawing a rune. The thick black lines spirals out from the tip, making an audible hissing as they spread across the wooden surface
"Your drawing?" Miss gray demanded. "I don't really see how that can possibly-" There was a noise like cracking glass. The doorknob, untouched, spins-fast, then faster, and the door springs open, a faint puff of smoke rising from the hinges.
"Now you do" Willow says, and pockets her stele, gesturing for Theresa to follow. "Let's go."
Miss Gray hesitates looking back towards the room. "My books-"
"I'll get you more books," Willow urges her into the corridor ahead of her, finding it a little baffling that Miss Gray would risk her own life over books, but also weighs the idea of her possibly losing her marbles while in that room. Pulling the door shut behind them, and catching the girl's wrist, Willow draws her down the hallway and around the corner, descending the stairs two at a time. Above there was a loud scream.
"They've found you missing," Willow says. They had reached the first landing, and Miss Gray slows her pace, but Willow jerks her ahead, not stopping.
"Aren't we going out the front door?" Theresa demands
"We can't. The building's surrounded. There's a line of carriages pulled up out front. I appear to have arrived at an unexpectedly exciting time."
"Do you know what the Dark Sisters had planned for this evening?"
"No, but you where expecting someone called the Magister?" Willow says as they where now in the cellar. "By the angel, its like the ninth circle of hell down here-"
"The ninth circle of hell is cold," Miss Gray says, like she was programmed to.
Willow stares at her, 'really woman?' "What?"
"In the inferno," she tells her," Hell is cold. Its covered in ice."
Willow stares at her for a long moment, the corners of her mouth twitching, wondering if this girl really was insane and didn't understand the gravity of their predicament. She holds out her hand, "Give me the witchlight."
At her blank expression, she made an impatient noise, "The stone, give me the stone".
Light comes from the stone when it makes contact with Willow's hand. "And as for the temperature of hell, Miss Gray," she says. "Let me give you a piece of advice. The gorgeous young woman who's trying to rescue you from a hideous fate is never wrong. Not even if she said the sky is purple and made of hedgehogs."
