Chapter 2

-Los Angeles, 2007 -

Taking two stairs at once Amelia leaped up the stairs to the library. In front of the heavy wooden door, she stopped and tried to calm down her breath. One last time she ran her hands through her hair before she entered the library. The light inside was dim; the lights along the racks threw shadows on the walls. It was quite late, but the training had taken longer than usual and Amelia had wanted to change clothes before she came here. Instinctively she turned left, where the poems and the novels stood Mark preferred. But all the corridors were empty, no books on the floor, and no sight of him.

A little disappointed Amelia turned around. Throughout the last three years the meetings in the library had become some sort of ritual between her and Mark. At first they had met by chance, then more often and now almost every second day. They learned together, helping each other with the subject matters, or simply talked about books they had read. Bit by bit they had gotten to know each other better and now these meetings were the highlights of Amelia's days. But obviously not today.

Slowly Amelia went to the table, where she usually sat. She stopped and looked at Mark, who was sitting in one of the armchairs. He had swung his long legs elegantly over one of the arm rests and was sunken into a book - as always. Without looking up, he turned a page and said, "You're late."

"I can't be late," she countered. "That would assume we had an appointment - which we didn't. So technically I am not late." Amelia went to the table, sat down in the other armchair and put her books on the table. She pointed at one of the paper cups standing on the table. "Is that for me?"

"Maybe." Mark turned another page. "I'm not quite sure whether you deserve it or not."

Amelia tried to prevent a smile. "What have I done?"

Finally, he looked at her. "Making me wait. And arguing about it." He waited some seconds, before he sighed theatrically. "Go on then. Take it."

Amelia smiled, took the cup and led it to her lips. It was iced coffee, flavored with a lot of hazelnut - just the way she liked it. "Hmmm… Perfect. Thank you."

"You're lucky it's iced coffee", Mark said quickly. "Otherwise it would have gotten cold while I was waiting for you."

His words made Amelia shiver, as always when he said something like that. Of course, she knew that he did not mean that he was actually waiting for her in the way she was dreaming about. But it did not matter. He was here, with her - that was what really mattered.

He leaned forward and took the other cup. Amelia knew that his iced coffee would taste like caramel, just as he knew she liked hazelnut. She took another sip and nodded at the book in Mark's hand. "So, how did you like Wuthering Heights?"

Mark looked at the book and frowned. "It was not bad. I liked reading it, although it was a little bit too much drama for my taste."

Amelia pretended to be shocked. "Drama? It's one of the greatest love stories ever told."

"I don't think it is a love story," Mark disagreed and she looked at him with surprise. "What would you say it is about?"

With one elegant move he swung his legs around, so that he was facing the table directly. "In my opinion it is mostly about a mad man taking revenge on all the people that have hurt him."

"Yeah, but what about Cathy? She loved Heathcliff and he loved her too."

Mark grimaced. "She didn't love him. If she had, she would have married him and not the other prick. And Heathcliff destroys Cathy, making her believe that he still loves her, just to let her down. That is not love. That's quite the opposite to me."

Amelia thought about Mark's words. "I think Cathy was just afraid of her own feelings."

"She just was afraid of what the others would think of her if she married Heathcliff", he argued. "She was too weak."

Amelia realized that he was not that wrong, but she was not willing to give up that easily. "Well, maybe Cathy should have married Heathcliff, but by marrying the other prick - as you've called him - she surely broke his heart. So what he did was understandable."

Again, Mark shook his head. "No way! What he did was even worse. Cathy was young, almost a child when she got married, but Heathcliff was a fully-grown man. He was wealthy, had a good life - everything he dreamed of. But he wasn't happy with that. No, he wanted Cathy to suffer. He wanted to take revenge on her." His voice got quiet. "Is that what you do to those you love? I don't think so. If he had loved her with all his heart, he would have wanted her to be happy. Because that is what love is supposed to mean, isn't it? You want the person you love to be happy." He paused for some seconds and Amelia could see that he was reflecting his own words. "The love in Wuthering Heights is destructive and mad and destroys everything and everyone. And that is not how it should be."

Amelia remained silent for some minutes. Never before had she heard Mark talking about something so passionately. He had lowered his head, staring at the paper cup in his hands. She observed his beautiful face carefully, wishing nothing more than reaching out and letting her fingers run over his perfect skin. Instead, she sighed. "You know that I will never be able to read Wuthering Heights again like I used to do?"

Mark looked up to her and smiled crookedly. "I'm sorry that I ruined it for you."

"You didn't." Amelia shook her head. "You have just changed my point of view, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. Changing your point of view can sometimes lead to completely new perceptions." She smiled. "And just because you don't like Heathcliff does not have to mean that I do, too. I have to admit that he is not the romantic hero, but he is still a fascinating person. And imagine how boring stories would be if there was only the perfect prince. Every good story needs a little imperfection. Something that's different. That's what makes them interesting."

Suddenly Mark's smile was gone. "Being different is not always that good, believe me." He leaned back in his armchair, sinking in deeply, so that he looked smaller and somehow younger that he really was.

He looks vulnerable, Amelia thought and the thought made her heart ache a little bit. She did not know what to say or what to do. Obviously, Mark was not talking about Heathcliff anymore, but she was not sure if he really wanted to go where this conversation might be taking them. Mark stared at the paper cup in his hands, examining it as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

Amelia's gaze fell at his blond hair, which hung in soft curves over his ears, and asked carefully, "Is it hard for you? Being different?"

Without looking up, he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I've always been like that, so I don't know how it feels to be not different. Or to be normal." The way he said the word showed clearly that he hated it.

Amelia wondered how many times he must have heard that he was not like the others, no true Shadowhunter - not normal. Suddenly she felt so sorry for Mark that it almost hurt physically. She swallowed hard. "In the three years that me and my family have been living here in Los Angeles I have never seen anyone treating you or Helen differently. I don't think that anyone here even thinks about you and your sister not being like the rest of your family."

Mark hesitated for a second, before he said, "I was a baby when I was brought here. Or left here by my mother. I have never known her, so the only mother I have known was Felicia, my father's wife. She was nice and kind to us and I'm sure she tried to love Helen and me as if we were her own children. I don't want you to get that wrong - I loved her. To me she was my mother. She read stories to us, bandaged our knees when we had hurt ourselves and did everything a mother should do." He paused. His face was fierce, his eyes darker than usual. "But sometimes, when she looked at us, I knew that she saw in us what we truly were - the reminders of the fact that her husband had loved another woman."

Amelia could hear the pain in his voice and felt her throat tighten. Mark breathed in deeply. "I thought, maybe I was wrong. I wanted to be wrong about that. But then Julian was born. He was so small and cute and perfect. I saw my mother looking at the little new born baby in her arms and I knew that I had been right all the time. Maybe she accepted Helen and me, maybe she liked us - maybe she even thought she loved us, but the way she looked at Julian was totally different. She looked at him proudly and so full of love, with that special expression, letting everyone know that she would kill anyone who'd ever try to hurt her little boy. In that very moment I knew that she would never look at Helen and me that way. I knew that we would never have the same place in her heart as Julian had. I knew that - even we were part of that family - we never would be true Blackthorns. Not to Felicia." Mark blinked quickly. "I - I don't know why I'm telling you that. It's awful to say such things." He turned his head, pretending to look at the book rack beside him, but Amelia knew that he was only trying to avoid looking at her. He tried to hide his vulnerability, which made her love him even more than she already did. She cleared her throat and whispered, "It's not. The only thing that's awful is that you felt so - lonely."

Amelia thought for some seconds, before she said, "I didn't know Felicia, so I can't say anything about that, but what I can say is that for the rest of your family it makes absolutely no difference that Helen and you are part-fey. No one of them even cares. No one in this whole Institute cares. To them - to us - you two are true Blackthorns. You are true Shadowhunters. And everyone who says differently is a fool to think so."

Slowly Mark turned his head back to Amelia and she nodded softly. "It's true. To Julian and the others you are their older brother - nothing more and nothing less. They all adore and love you. Both of you. The fact that your ears are pointy or that your hair is blond and not brown does not change the fact that you have the same blood in your veins like them. And that is exactly how it should be."

For a moment Mark looked at her as if she had said something so unbelievable, so strange, that it made him question her sanity. He raised his eyebrows. "I know. I love them too. All of them. Unconditionally. I would give my life for every single one of them. But that does not change the fact that outside this Institute I am only a bastard."

Amelia wanted to say something, but he shook his head. "No. I know what you want to say, but it's the truth. Whenever we travel to Idris or to other Institutes I can hear the others talking behind my back. I know that to them I am a strange being - not really a faerie, but no Shadowhunter either. I am always in between. And that will never change." His voice got colder. "I know that there are many Shadowhunters that would never fight side by side with me, because they simply don't trust me. Because I have faerie blood in me they think that one day I might possibly decide that the Downworlder blood inside me is stronger than the Shadowhunter blood."

"Then prove them wrong," Amelia said hastily, leaning closer over the table. "Prove that you are a Shadowhunter. Show them that you are good and worth to be trusted."

Mark's eyes turned so dark that they almost seemed to be black. When he spoke, his voice was so low, that Amelia almost did not understand what he was saying. "What if they are right?"

Amelia flinched as if she had been hit. For some painful seconds she and Mark just looked at each other and she could see that he was scared. The look of sheer panic was written all over his face. Amelia let her eyes wander across his face, down his chest and to his arms. She leaned forward, held out her hand and wrapped her fingers around Mark's wrist. His eyes widened and he held his breath. It was the first time she ever touched him and she was surprised how soft his skin felt under hers. She pulled his arm to her and pointed at the dark Runes on his pale skin. "You wear the sign of the Angel, Mark Blackthorn. It is written on your skin, visible for everyone who ever might question your true self. There may be faerie blood in your veins, but your father's blood is stronger. That's what the Runes mean. Otherwise you would not be able to wear them."

Mark looked at his arm as if he saw the dark lines on his skin for the first time. Amelia loosened the grip of her fingers, without letting completely go of him. "And if you should ever question yourself - if you should ever dare to think that the good in you is not strong enough, just look at your arms. Look at the Runes. You are part of all this because this is where you belong."

Finally, she let go of him and sank back into her armchair. Mark remained silent for a while, still staring at the signs on his arms. Amelia watched his face, the soft lines of his cheeks, the delicate curve of his lips and his eyes whose color reminded her of the ocean after a storm - deep, dark and dangerous, but also beautiful. After what had seemed to be hours Mark whispered, "All I ever wished for was to be like Jules, Ty, Livvy, Dru or Tavvy. All I wanted was to be normal, just like them."

Amelia sighed. Never would she be able to understand why this beautiful boy in all his perfection wanted to be average like everybody else was.

"Well, I think being normal is absolutely overrated."

Mark raised his head and theirs eyes met. "That's easy to say for someone who is normal. No offense, but you have no idea what it means to be different."

Amelia froze. He had no idea that she actually knew pretty well, what it meant. There was something that made her different, too - although it was not even close to Mark's specialness. She frowned, not knowing if she wanted to tell him, but he had opened up to her and she felt that she owed the truth to him, so she stood up. Mark looked at her, wondering. Slowly like in a daze, Amelia stepped beside the table, in front of Mark's armchair. She turned around, so that she was showing him her profile, put her hands on her shirt and pulled up the tuck, so that Mark could see a part of her hips and her back. Amelia heard Mark gasping silently and closed her eyes. She knew that the huge scar of the burn on her skin looked scary. It was almost ten inches long and five inches wide and made her skin look like a battlefield.

Amelia breathed in deeply and said quietly, "I know it's not the same, but -" Her voice broke and she had to swallow. Never before had she showed her scar to anyone and it felt strange, but not as uncomfortable as she had imagined.

"I was seven years old - too young for a healing Rune, so it had to heal by itself. And that's what's left."

Still, Mark was not saying anything. Amelia could not bring herself to look at him, she was afraid he might be disgusted by her scar. Her hands were shaking, her fingers clenched into the fabric of her shirt. Just when she was about to drop her shirt, she felt Mark's hand on her skin. He had bent forward and put his fingers on the red scarred tissue on her waist. His touch was so soft that Amelia barely felt it, but nevertheless it sent shivers up and down her spine, making her body feel as if it was completely on fire. Now it was her, who held her breath while his fingertips wandered gently over her scar. It was the first time someone else touched her wounded and healed skin and it felt weird and intimate. Mark's fingers were soft and cool and to her own surprise, she found the touch soothing and somehow thrilling.

"What happened?" he asked without taking his hand away. His voice sounded hoarse and concerned. Amelia turned her face and looked at Mark, who was still staring at her skin, with a very concentrated look on his face. "We were playing - Grayson and I. I was chasing him around our house. My mother told us not to go too close to the fireplace but Grayson did not listen. I was afraid but he was mocking me, calling me a fraidy-cat. I wanted to show him that I wasn't. I wanted him to see that I was brave."

Mark lifted his head, letting his hand rest on her waist, and their eyes met.

"My dress caught fire. It happened so fast - there was nothing anyone could have done." Amelia shivered at the memory of the flames, burning into her skin. "Grayson saved me from being burnt worse. Her tore off my dress, burning his own hands. If it had not been for him, I don't know what would have happened."

She frowned. "I know it is not comparable to what makes you different - but I want you to know that I understand."

Mark pulled back his hand and Amelia dropped her shirt. "I know how it feels, when people look at you because you are different. But I can cover it up. I can hide my scar. And I do it because it's ugly. Because I don't want to see it myself. But the thing is - it is there and it won't go away, so I will have to live with it. I will have to accept it and you will have to accept your specialness as well."

He looked up to her, disbelief in his eyes, and whispered, "How can it be possible, that - while everyone else who looks at me just sees the differences - you just see what we have in common?"

Amelia shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe I look at you in a different way than all the others do."

Mark stood up so that it now was Amelia who had to lift her face. He was standing so close to her that she could sense the warmth of his body. His closeness made her knees shake, her skin tingle and her heart beat faster. It was beating so loudly, pounding against her ribs like a wild animal trying to break free from its cage.

Mark's face was tight, almost expressionless, as if he was afraid to show his feelings. His glance rested on her face.

"What is it that you see?"

Amelia felt her cheeks burn and for a moment she wanted simply to run away, but her feet felt like glued to the wooden floor. She tried to calm her breath and to stop her hands from shaking. Deep inside she knew that there was no turning back, she had come this far - now she had to go all the way, no matter what the consequences were. She breathed in deeply and said, "You. I see only you."

Mark stood completely still, his eyes focused on her face.

"I see a beautiful boy with pointy ears and hair that looks golden in the sunlight. I also see someone who loves his family unconditionally and passionately, but who is also so insecure about himself that it almost breaks my heart."

The lines of Mark's face softened, his eyes sparkling. Amelia bit her lip and whispered, "I see perfection whenever I look at you. And that you are not able to see yourself how perfect you are - in every single way - almost breaks my heart, Mark Blackthorn."

Mark closed his eyes and she swallowed. "I don't care what the others may think of you. I don't care whether you are all human, or a vampire, a warlock or a faerie. To me you are just Mark, who loves books and knows the way I like my iced coffee. You are not what your blood makes you. You are whatever you decide to be and you should never forget that."

Mark opened his eyes, lifted his hand and took one of her black curls between his fingers. His movements were soft, gentle, unbelievably careful and reluctant - as if he was afraid, he might hurt her. Amelia could not take her eyes away from his face, so beautiful but so fierce at the same time. He kept looking at the strand of her hair in his hand - dark black against pale white. Slowly she turned her head toward his and finally their eyes met. Mark looked as if he was torn between doing what he wanted to and what he knew he should be doing. With every second he was just staring at her Amelia got more and more nervous, her body felt as if it was about to burst with the longing for Mark to pull her closer. As if he was able to read her mind, he leaned closer to her, lowering his head so that his lips were so close to hers that they almost touched. Amelia could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, making her shiver until she could not stand it anymore. She drew her chin up and pressed her lips on Mark's - carefully and gently. The touch was so soft that it felt almost unreal, like a dream. Mark froze, Amelia's hair still wrapped around his finger. For a split second, she thought she had gone too far, that he had not wanted to kiss her. Amelia drew back, puzzled and confused she stuttered, "I'm sorry - I should not - I mean, I thought -"

Before she could finish the sentence Mark dropped the strand of her hair and put his hand on her neck instead, drawing her closer to him, before he kissed her. His kiss was not gentle, but passionate and wild. It made Amelia feel dizzy and magnificent, weak and incredibly powerful at the same time. She could not really believe that this was happening, that Mark Blackthorn was holding and kissing her. He pressed his body against hers, without taking his lips off hers. Amelia lifted her hands, let her fingers run through his hair and leaned into his embrace. Her head was whirling and all she could think of was that Mark's hair felt like silk and that his lips tasted like caramel and dust and passion. Amelia was sure that never before in her whole life she had felt like this - so eased and beyond perfectly happy. Three years she had been dreaming about this and now that it was really happening, she finally felt complete.

She wrapped her arms around him and shivered when a deep, passionate sigh emerged from his throat. When Mark finally drew back, Amelia had to gasp for air breathlessly. Still, his body was so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her skin. He was breathing heavily, as if he had just been training.

Amelia closed her eyes when she felt Marks lips brushing slightly over her face. Unbelievably softly and carefully he kissed her skin, before he whispered, "Your heart is pounding like crazy."

"Yours too." Amelia let her hands slide across his back, feeling the muscles under the fabric of his shirt, and smiled when she felt him shiver. For a little while they were just standing there, holding each other closely. It felt as if time was standing still and Amelia wished she and Mark could freeze this moment forever. But too soon he drew back and looked at her. She raised her eyebrows and said, "Just to point that out - normally I don't kiss boys before the second or third date."

"You want a date?" Mark asked and she shrugged. "Normal teenagers would go on a date."

"But being normal is overrated," he added and Amelia nodded smiling. "And that is why I feel like making an exception." She lifted her head to kiss Mark again. And again the touch of his lips made her shiver and her knees feel weak. Mark swallowed hard. "I'll give you a date, Mia. A real one. I will take you to the pier; we'll have the best ice cream in L.A. And when it gets dark, you can see millions of stars from there."

Amelia smiled. "I don't need a date, Mark. Not at all."

"But I do," he quickly said. "I want it, okay? For once in my life, I want to be normal. Or at least pretend I am. I want to be ordinary and do ordinary things. Is that okay with you?"

Amelia looked at his beautiful face and whispered, "No matter what you do - no matter how hard you try - you will never be just ordinary, Mark Blackthorn." She raised her hand and pushed back his hair, so that his ears were visible. Carefully she let her finger trace the outline of his ear and Mark held his breath. Amelia bit her lip and said, "You're far from being ordinary. You are unique - don't you ever forget that. And don't forget that you don't have to hide. Not to anyone. Promise me that you will remember that."

Silently Mark nodded, before he kissed her again - wild and passionately.

"So, we have a date then? Like, tomorrow evening?"

"Yes." Amelia nodded, but then she frowned. "Wait - I can't. We are going to Idris tomorrow morning. My cousin is getting her first Runes and we are invited. The whole family will be going."

Marks face darkened with disappointment but she quickly said, "But we'll be back by the end of the week. And then we'll go to the pier. Promised."

Mark smiled, leaned closer to her and kissed her forehead. Amelia sighed. "I still have your katana. I wanted to give it back before we leave."

"Keep it", Mark said. "Take it to Idris and keep on practicing. You're making progress, so don't get lazy."

"I'm not getting lazy!" Amelia hit his shoulder playfully. "But maybe it's time I get a katana of my own."

"If you really want to buy one, Alicante's just the right place." Mark stepped back. "Take good care of mine. My father gave it to me." He let his hands run over her arms, just to entwine his fingers with hers. "You're not gonna change your mind about the date, are you?"

Smiling Amelia shook her head. "No way. You're not getting away with that."

Mark smiled too. "Just wanted to make sure." He kissed her again. It still felt surreal; Amelia could still not believe that this was happening. Maybe it was just a dream, and she was about to wake up. But then she felt his lips again, his warm breath and his hands, holding her hands so tightly. This was no dream. This war really happening. Amelia had to smile again and Mark asked, "What?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. I just thought that libraries are definitely underrated."

He nodded. "Thank God. If that ever changes, we will never be able to do this again."

"That would be a tragedy." Amelia brushed her finger softly across the skin of Mark's hand. "But we would find another hideaway."

"I'm sure we would." Mark sighed. "I hate to bring it up, but it is actually quite late, so if you're tired …"

"No," Amelia interrupted him. "I'm not. Not at all. I don't want to go to my room, not yet. I just want to stay here a little longer. Is that okay?"

"Sure." Mark raised his eyebrows. "We still have work to do. And if we're starting to learn, I'll probably get another coffee."

Amelia nodded and watched Mark leave. Before he reached the end of the rack, he turned around and looked at her, as if he wanted to make sure that she was still there. The look he gave her made Amelia's heart beat even faster. This was without a doubt the best day of her whole life.

Ã

She could not concentrate on the book in her hands. Again and again, Amelia caught herself looking across the table to Mark, who was sitting opposite to her, bent over a book himself. He had his head leaned on his hand and seemed to be focused on his book. Amelia smiled and lowered her gaze back to the pages in front of her. She turned one page, read the first lines and peered back at Mark.

Without looking up he said, "If you keep on staring at me, we will be sitting here until midnight."

"Then stop distracting me," Amelia countered smiling and Mark finally looked up. "I am distracting you? How? I'm just sitting here."

Amelia shrugged. "Apparently that is enough."

Mark laughed silently. His laughter sounded warm, soft and melodic. Amelia could have listened to it for the rest of her life. Just when she was about to say something, she heard the sound of footsteps. She and Mark turned their heads and looked at Grayson, who was standing between the book racks.

"Surely this is the play to find you!"

He nodded towards Mark and looked back at his sister. "Dad's looking for you. He and mom want to … I don't know, talk about the trip or something. Either way, our attendance is required."

"Okay. I'll be right there." Amelia closed her book and waited for her brother to vanish, but Grayson remained where he was. "I'll help you with the books."

She gazed at Mark. She wanted to say goodbye to him, but not in front of her brother. It was not that she would have bothered Grayson seeing her kissing Mark, but she felt is was too early. She did not want him to know yet, she wanted to keep this secret a little bit longer. Mark cleared his throat. "Go on. I'll put the books back."

Amelia frowned. "Thanks. So, we'll see each other at the weekend?"

He nodded and smiled crookedly. "Sure. Have a nice time in Alicante. And don't forget to practice."

While Grayson was collecting her things Amelia stood up and looked down at Mark, who remained seated. "Bye then."

"Bye." He lifted his hand and for a moment, she had to fight the need to throw her arms around him and to kiss him. Instead, Amelia took a deep breath and followed Grayson. Walking down the racks, she turned around to look at Mark, who was gazing at her too. She tried to memorize every little detail, every strand of his hair, every line of his face. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that she had been loving him since the day she came to Los Angeles, but she remained silent. There would still be enough time to tell him when she came back.

Two days later, nothing had been the same anymore.