Chapter 4

My arms felt as heavy as led by my sides and my neck was craned at an awkward angle just below the pillow of my bed. My bed? Could it be that all of the torture was just a cruel trick played by mind while I slept? My eyes flew open from joy, like a child on Christmas morning, and I saw that I was in a large four-poster bed pushed against one wall of a large, scantily furnished, room. It held only a bedside table, a vintage-looking vanity, a fireplace, and what looked like a chess table with two chairs on either side of it. A slim woman with dark brown hair was standing by the window with a resilient air about her.

She heard the sheets rustle as I sat up and turned to look at me. My eyes widened in shock and I felt a sharp intake of breath when I saw a long, silvery, scar that ran from the left corner of her mouth to her temple. It seemed to drag her features toward it, twisting them unpleasantly. She was, despite the deformity, still quite beautiful with delicate features but a strong presence.

She fixed me with a pointed glare, suggesting that my reaction was incredibly rude. "Miss Hall," she said curtly, "I trust you're feeling… well." her voice was tense. And very british.

"Um... How do you know my name?" confusion filled my voice.

"You told us." she stated simply, "and it's all over your belongings."

"Okay. and who exactly is Us?"

"The shadowhunters of the London institute. I believe you spoke with Master Will and Master Jem." Her face was serious.

"Well, I don't know about 'master' but I did shoot a boy named Will."

"Ah yes, Master Will did mention that. He seemed quite excited about it as well." She sounded very annoyed.

"So… where are we? exactly?"

"The institute in London." she spoke as if this were a stupidly obvious fact. I swallowed, my throat felt dry and sandpapery.

"And, um, what year is it?" I could hear the worry creeping into voice, even as I said it.

"1878." she had a look on her face that said I was insane. And I was inclined to agree with her.

"How is that possible?"

"Well-" She was interrupted by the door opening suddenly and a small brunette woman suddenly bursting in. "Sorry it took me so long, I was busy with Brother Enoch and Miss Gray. You're dismissed, Sophie." She turned to me, her face open and kind, "I'm Charlotte Branwell, I run the Institute."

"I'm Inara, but I think you know that already." I said accusingly.

"Yes, I do. And I know that you're not from around here." She gave me a pointed look, "You hail from California, 2013. Really, very impressive."
"How do you know that?" I asked. My voice cracked with panic.

"Why, It says so in here." she was holding up my journal. The one that was in my purse, which I lost.

"You read it!?" I was incredulous.

"I apologize for the invasion of privacy, but it was necessary. I needed to know more about the girl who shot one of my charges." there were humorous undertones in her voice.

"But, how did you get my purse?"

"You dropped it." she shrugged. We sat at what I learned was not, as I had originally thought it to be, a chess table, but one for afternoon tea. And I filled Charlotte in on what happened at the Dark house. The sun had sunk low beneath the horizon, sending its last rays out only to be blocked by the polluted London air. Charlotte gave me the option of dining with the rest of the institute and explaining my situation to them, but I declined, choosing sleep instead.

I went to the beautifully adorned bed and waited for sleep. But it didn't come. Night had become a time of terror for me. Memories of the hell room swirled in my head until dawn. I finally gave up my futile attempt at sleep and went over to the vanity. As I sat down, I notice the circles under my eyes had slightly faded. But my hair had become even more unruly than when I'd last checked. I sighed and turned to survey the room, paying more attention now than before.

I heard a door shut somewhere nearby and turned my head sharply towards the noise. I crept, as quietly as I could, out of my room and followed the faint sound of rustling that had followed the slam. It led me up a set of stairs at the end of the hall my room was located in. There was a room, or rather, a door that led to a room at the top.

I knocked softly on the door, half hoping there would be no answer. Nothing moved. And then, a quiet curse. The door slid open, a very tall figure emerged from it. Black curls falling into his face. "What?" his voice was harsh. I t was fair, I figured. After all, I did shoot him.

"Nothing" I said hastily, "I just thought I heard something."

"Well you didn't, you're perfectly safe. Now go, shoo, vamoose." He swished his hands lazily and yawned. His breath reeked of alcohol.

"Okay." I said timidly as I turned away and began to to walk down the steps.

"Wait-" he halted, "how did you know about Ella?"