Recollections
"You were made only for this, and you shall do as your maker tells you to!" a crack sounded as the blue lightning above wrecked havoc in the skies.
"You are not my master! I was not made for this!" the child's voice was filled with anguish.
"You were created only for this purpose!"
"No!" lightning struck right next to the man.
"You were a monster from birth! Complete your purpose!"
The warlock sat bolt upright, sweat making her hair stick to her forehead and her clothes to her skin. She turned her head from side to side, franticly scanning the area.
"Well it's nice to see you're up," the woman besides her mumbled pushing the pointed claw at the bending point of the warlocks wing away. It seemed she had spread them unconsciously while dreaming. This was exactly why she hated sleeping.
The woman was tall and had long pin-strait dark brown hair that reached her lower back. She was pale in colour, suggesting she didn't get much sun. She had a heart shaped face that fit her gentle honey-brown eyes perfectly. In her hand she was holding some sort of bottle containing an olive-green substance.
"Where am I?" the warlock's eyes were wide still scanning the area. It appeared she was in some sort of sickroom.
"You are a sickroom," the woman replied, echoing her thoughts.
"Yes I know that but where- Shit!" the warlocks sneer was cut short by the throbbing pain emanating from her leg.
"This might sting a bit," the woman warned placing the ointment on the large wound. 'A bit' was definitely a totally different word in this woman's definition then the dictionary's version of it. The warlock baled her hands into fists and hissed through her clenched teeth.
"That should start to take away the pain in a few seconds," she explained turning to her cabinets where vials of potions sat in a row.
"You still haven't answered my question," the warlock pointed out, relaxing now that the medicine had taken affect.
"You don't remember last night?" the woman answered with a mixture of sarcasm and interest taking a seat next to the warlock in an old wooden chair.
Of course. The Shadowhunter boy had mumbled something about an Institute and getting her healed. He must have meant a Shadowhunter Institute. Had he actually done it? Had the Nephilim actually brought her here to be healed? Nephilim would never trust Downwolders. Then again maybe guilt had gotten the better of the ebony-haired boy. Whatever the reason she was obviously alive, this was good. Then again she was injured in a Shadowhunter's home which was not so good. Well we can't always have everything we want can we?
"Right," the warlock mumbled checking all escape exits in the room, which, added all together, equalled hmm... let's see...the door, "Perfect," she slumped into a sitting position on the bed, closing her eyes.
"It seems you committed quite a..." she thought over her next words, "act for a person like yourself."
The warlock scoffed at the woman's words, but she was used to being treated as an 'it' rather than a 'who'. Oh yes, she knew much about that.
"I guess so, for a person like me," she stressed the word, "But what is even more surprising is the fact that the favour was returned."
"We are not as selfish as you, we put our necks on the line every day. When someone does us the favour of killing the hangman, we owe them a dept we keep," she said darkly, obviously offended by the warlocks words.
"So how is the criminal that was not hung?" the warlock was curious to know what had happened to her rescuer/rescuie.
"Sleeping, carrying you here was quite a task," the woman's tone was slightly lightened.
"So I take it my spells worked?" there was a hint of surprise in the warlocks voice, though she tried to hide it. She hardly did any healing spells and was quite horrible at them anyway, so it was quite a surprise to find that they had worked on this Shadowhunter boy.
"You didn't expect them to?" the warlock decided to answer the question with honesty, she owed the woman that much.
"I suck at healing incantations; I'm more of the offensive caster," she flashed a dangerous smile.
"Is that how you took down the demons? With magic?" there was a hint of disgust at the way she said the word 'magic'.
"No, swords work better for that purpose," she smiled slightly at the memory.
"A warlock that wears no glitter, has mundane clothes, fights demons with weapons and saves Shadowhunters. You will never cease to surprise me," she pondered something for a moment, "Pray tell, what is your name?"
"Names are power, why should I tell you mine?"
"Because potions are power, so you might find acid instead of a healing ointment being spread onto your leg next time," the woman pointed out casually.
"Electra, please to meet you," the warlock responded grudgingly.
"Lavender, a pleasure. I'll have you know you will be staying here for some time. Until your injury heals of course, but until that time get comfortable," the woman turned toward the door to leave.
"Excuse me? I have no intensions of staying any longer, thank you. I will be leaving tonight," Electra's eyes snapped open and she gingerly got off the bed, careful not to put any weight on her leg.
"You shall do no such thing unless you want to lose that leg. You need to stay in this house in order for me to continue to put that ointment on your leg to make it heal properly. And considering what you've told me, you won't be able to treat it on your own."
"I cannot stay! That's impossible! You're a Shadowhunter for crying out loud! Don't you want me out of your home?" she yelled in disbelief.
"Mum! What's going on? I heard shouting and-" a boy that looked exactly like his mother burst through the door eyes resting on the warlock. His skin the only difference to their resemblance, being darker and covered with fading black Marks. But his dark brown hair that was cut short at his chin and eyes were obviously his mothers'.
"Relax Marcus, our guest is just eager to leave," she put a hand on her son's shoulder which was quite a feat considering his height.
"Well if she wants to leave so badly why not let her?" Marcus looked down on the warlock, still summing her up. Finally, someone who acted there part.
"The girl saved your brother, have some manners will you?" she chided him.
"Manners?! She's a Downworlder! And I wouldn't be quite so sure about the rescue. I told you it hasn't really been proven yet," the boy sneered at Electra, narrowing his eyes. Maybe he was playing his part too well.
"Well I apologise for not getting pictures at the time. If you had told me earlier, I would have brought a camera," she sneered right back. The two locked dangerous glares, pure amber to honey-brown, until Marcus finally turned to his mother.
"So how long is she staying anyway?" he huffed watching her with his peripheral vision.
"Approximately a week," Lavender responded with ease.
"A WEEK!" both Marcus and Electra shouted at the same time.
"More or less, yes. Considering the amount of poison, which I must say is more than I've ever seen."
"Let's hope for less," the boy mumbled, "It's totally unheard of to have a Downworlder in an Institute. Not even mundanes are aloud here."
"Well you two will have to live with each other for a little longer," she turned to her son, "How is Alexander?"
"You mean the living log? Still sleeping."
"Well don't wake him up, he needs-" Lavender was cut off by mumbling in the other room.
"This had better be good Charles, I hardly get any sleep and the one chance I get I'm woken up by you! There is no peace in this house!" a groggy voice sounded from the other side. Alexander probably, Electra guessed.
"You'll thank me later!" said a younger, more exited voice that Electra had never heard before but most likely belonged to the boy named Charles.
"Well too late for that," Marcus grumbled, "I'll go get him," he walked out the door, followed hastily by his mother.
If I make it out of this, I'm making a personal note to never do anymore rescues. Ever. The warlock thought, limping toward the door and leaning her back on the frame, careful to mind her wings which (thank the Lord!) were in perfectly good condition.
"Oh, well nice to see your up Marcus, mum," the younger voice, which Electra now saw belonged to a child of 11 or 12 with light brown hair that was almost blond, bright olive eyes and rose cheeks, laughed nervously. He was obviously not expecting to see them there.
"Charles what on Earth are you doing?" his mother scolded him, making him turn a darker shade of pink.
"I'd like to know that too, Charles," the ebony-haired boy said rubbing his eyes.
"I was just getting Alex to the sickroom. He deserves to see the Downworlder too you know," the younger boy said importantly.
"I didn't know I was on display. Should I do the cat-walk as well?" the warlock's voice dripped of sarcasm, making herself known to the audience.
Alex's head snapped up revealing two wide, sky-blue eyes. He immediately took her in, from head to toe. His younger brother did the same, a look of surprise plastered on his face, his mouth barely off the ground. Alex remained more composed, though he too, seemed surprised. Electra wondered what on Earth was so surprising to these people, then she remembered the Lavender's words; 'A warlock that wears no glitter, has mundane clothes, fights with weapons and saves Shadowhunters. You will never cease to surprise me' Oh, that's why, she thought.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's rude to stare?"
"On several occasions," Lavender mumbled under her breath to low for the boys to hear but not low enough for the warlock who tried hard not to grin.
"Didn't yours ever teach you not to interrupt?" the boy retorted. They both held each other's gazes for a long time, both of them reluctant to say the words that hung to the air like humidity. 'Thank you' was not something a Shadowhunter would say to a Downworlder. 'Thank you' was not something Electra would ever say to anyone.
"So you're the warlock who saved my brother?" Charles put in, finally getting over the shock. This just made the pressure build even more.
"Charles, get back to your room. Marcus go see what James is up to. Alex come with me, I've got to check your head. Electra, if you go upstairs to the last room in the corridor you'll find a bathroom," Lavender ordered everyone, breaking the uneasy silence.
Charles rushed up the stairs, most likely to his bedroom considering the expression on his face. Marcus speed walked down the hall to some other room in the massive house. Then Alex reluctantly turned to the direction of the sickroom, his mother's arm around his shoulders. Electra unhitched herself from the door frame and made room for the two to pass. They promptly shut the door behind them, leaving Electra alone in the wide hall.
She was left with two options, run and never look back which was the more dignified option, or go to the upstairs room and take a long hot shower which was the more reasonable option. She sighed deeply cursing Reason and her stupid ways. If only if it wasn't for that damn ointment... the warlock thought miserably carefully making her way up the stairs.
Just like Lavender had described, there was an empty room at the end of the too-long-for-it's-own-good hall. It was a regular sized room with one bed parallel with a large window, opposite that was an old-looking wardrobe. Straight ahead from where she was standing was the opening to a small bathroom. Perfect, she sighed.
***
James made his way down the hall. His steps hardly making a sound as he made his way toward the warlocks room.
"Should have picked scissors," he mumbled to himself. After losing in a game of rock, paper, scissors he had been sent to fetch the Downworlder.
'Anyway,' his mother had said, 'You're the only one that hasn't seen her yet.'
'What could be so great about this Downwordler?' he had stressed the word pointedly.
'You'll see,' Alex winked.
When he finally reached the right door he raised his hand, prepared to knock until the door swung open.
"What do you want?" the warlock snapped.
His aqua eyes ran up and down the warlock. The first thing that he noticed was her amber feline-like eyes, and then of course that amazingly shocking electric-blue hair that traveled down to her chest in soft waves. Her face was clear of make-up and she was wearing a black suite that hugged her feminine curves all the way down to her shins where it was met with a pair of black boots, the outfit making her look a bit more like her species. The top part of the suite was open-backed; this left room for her folded wings, which James noticed had a curved claw at the bending point. She had a seductive figure that would make any man want to approach her, if not for the air of power and danger that surrounded her. Oh I see alright, he mentally shook his head and composed his shocked face.
"Dinner's on the table," he said.
"Not hungry, excuse me," she said limping past him, her jaw clenched.
"Having trouble with your leg?" he caught up with her in a few strides.
"Where do you keep the ointment?"
"Some place where you won't be able to find it without assistance."
"Would you be able to assist me?" she arched an eyebrow suggestively.
"No," the warlock narrowed her eyes at him.
"Then move," she and pushed him out of her way limped down the hall. When she reached the steps she grimaced.
"Problem?" James smiled, amused.
"Not at all," blue flames flew from her hands and covered the steps. The stairs flattened out into a slide which the warlock descended with ease. As soon as she reached the bottom the blue flames disappeared and the slide turned back into steps.
"Hey! You're not allowed magic!" James eyes widened and he rushed down the stairs to meet her.
"Oh tush," she smiled waving the words away, "Now where is your mother?"
"Kitchen," James seethed, he and his family had a low tolerance for magic of any kind.
Electra made her way toward the sickroom.
"That's not the right way."
"I know," James saw strait through her plan.
"Oh no you don't!" he called after her blocking the entrance.
"Get out of my way Shadowhunter. Anyway, this is to both mine and your advantage. I get to leave and you get to be free of an unwelcome guest. All I need is the ointment," she narrowed her eyes stepping closer to him, her offensive stance showing that she would fight her way through if needed.
This got James thinking. On one hand no more magic, no more warlock. On the other furious Lavender and a missing healing ointment that he and his brothers might need. He hated when the right option was so obvious.
"Sorry, no can do," he shook his head.
"Let me pass or so help me you'll find your head missing from your shoulders," there was a rushed edge to her voice. Her leg was probably worse than she let on.
"Look I can stand here forever but by the looks of it you can't. So how about you just walk into the kitchen and we forget about this whole incident. Sounds good?" he put her hands on her shoulders and pushed her firmly back. He yelped as scorching blue flames engulfed his hands where they touched her.
"How about no?" she smiled slyly pushed him out of the way.
No way was one injured warlock going to go through James Midwinter without him having anything to say about it. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder with his left hand and twisted her around, his right fingering his knife. Her eyes narrowed and her hands lit with blue flames.
"This had better have a good explanation," an ice-cold voices made both of them turn to face a fuming Lavender and three wide-eyed boys, "Or else you'll both be facing excruciating circumstances."
Well it was quite a sight. Electra with her amber eyes turned into two thin slits, her arms burning with blue flames, black wings tensed. Then James with his aqua eyes filled with heat of a fight, one hand clenched into a fist, the other holding a knife that was only half way out of his back pocket, his chestnut bangs falling into his face. Quite the sight indeed.
Okay chapter 2 is up! Hope you guys enjoyed this one. Could someone please tell me how Shadowhunters know about demon activity if the're at the Institute? I need to know for the next chapter.
To Sea Water: Thanks for the review! I'll be working on 'fleshing out' the brothers later on. Though I hope this chapter helped.
As always, please leave a review before you leave!
~Phoenix Neptune~