Again, after I had come to terms with my death, I was pulled right back. But, something was wrong. I lifted my head up and opened my eyes. Light pierced my vision as I sat up, making me wince with a different kind of pain I hadn't felt for a long time. Colors danced across my eyes, ranging from vibrant blues to subtle whites.
I pulled myself up into a sitting position, feeling and seeing the soft hospital sheets move down my arms. My pale, thin-as-twigs arms. Though my head ached from the light, I laughed. A good, hardy laugh that came from my throat. And I kept laughing, not caring if anyone passing by the infirmary would hear my obnoxious voice. I let my once useless eyes roam around the room, taking in the standard white beds that lined the wall. A large, stained glass window let the southern light in on the south wall, turning the white walls into a kaleidoscope of color, color I honestly had no hope of seeing ever again. I had to find someone, anyone, who-
My thoughts drifted back to my last memory. I had stopped breathing during dinner. Someone had put their arms around me and most likely carried me here. Will?
"Will-" I start to say as realization dawned on me, but an unseen force stopped me. My body tensed up as if my heart had been grabbed by something. Tense muscles turning rigid and shaky, I realized I was no longer in control of my movements. Unlike my fits, I felt no pressure or burning in my throat. This was something entirely different.
With slow, jerky movements, the force took hold of my legs and swung them out of bed and onto the hard floor, standing almost immediately after my feet brushed against the cold tiled floor. Instead of wobbling around on unsteady appendages, I remained strong and solid. And then I was leaving through the door to my left, which I assumed would lead me back to the main corridor of the Institute.
Frightened, yet awestruck by the beauty around me, I could only swivel my eyes around to try to catch all the sights before I moved on. My movements began to smooth out and, to any onlooker, I would appear to be walking normally. But only I knew of the internal battle raging on inside of my body, my will trying to stop my legs from pushing on. When I stopped in front of an open doorway, my first thought had been that I'd gained control back over my body. However, I just turned and passed through the entryway of the door. Long tables filled with weapons greeted me and I guessed this was the weapon's room Jem had told me about. On the first table lay a large, sharp sword seemed to draw me to it. The blade felt heavy in my hand, but even I knew I wouldn't have been able to pick up the sword on my own. Somehow, whatever possessed me had altered my body, allowing me to do things I couldn't on my own.
I left the weapon's room with the sword in hand, and a strange feeling washed over me. I felt anger, hatred, agony, guilt, joy, and sadness. It tore at my insides and I managed to shut my eyes to block out all other input. With all my willpower, I kept my eyes closed, yet my legs continued to guide me somewhere. It was pulling me to a specific destination, I could feel it. But, judging from the blade in my hand, I knew I wouldn't like it at all.
A few minutes passed before I started to hear new noise, the faint murmurs of human life. I opened my eyes to see a grand entrance, with the wooden doors cast open as if someone had left in a hurry. I crept closer to the door, tensing up again as I knew there would be someone on the other side. The sunlight ghosted over my pale skin and I almost flinched at the temperature difference.
Outside, I saw a large group of people with their backs to me, their attention on the carriage approaching their position. Intuition told me these were the people I'd spent the last couple days with, but none of them looked familiar. And it killed me. I gazed at their backs for a minute before I caught sight of a head of silver, dressed in a nice suit with a walking cane at his side.
Jem. There was the dying boy who held the same fate as me. Tears threatened to gather in my eyes, but I willed them away.
Right next to him, I saw a head of midnight black, with wisps of longer hair curling up around his face. William Herondale stood a few inches above Jem, his broad shoulders instantly capturing my attention. I had not been wrong when I had said Will was beautiful, and I could only imagine what his face looked like.
I was moving forward then, and only when I raised the sword up did I realize what I was doing. I begged, pleaded inside my mind for whoever was controlling my body to let me go, to not condemn these people to death. I could care less about me, but not Jem, or Charlotte, or Tessa. And most of all, not Will.
My footsteps ceased to make a sound as I approached the group. They wouldn't hear me coming. I had to stop this, do something to make them notice me. Perhaps they would see me as an intruder, an enemy behind lines and kill me without hesitation. In all honesty, I didn't care. Mortmain had given me plenty of almost deaths, enough so that I didn't even fear the beyond. And right now, I'd gladly take a death by these Shadowhunter's hands if it meant they could live another day. I would not give in.
But it appeared that I had little choice in the matter, as I inched closer to the group. The carriage and stopped 10 feet from the procession and I saw a great hooded figure descend from the top of the carriage. Darkness fell beneath the hood, so I couldn't lock eyes with the driver. I just had to hope he'd see me and warn the others of my actions. But the figure only moved to the door of the carriage. A long, slender hand extended from the long, parchment robe and grasped the handle of the door.
Almost immediately, other figures burst from the carriage in a rush of energy. The man I was closest to, with wavy blonde hair, sprung away from the carriage, right into the path of my sword. As the weapon swung down to meet him, I tried to cry out and warn him away. He only saw me as the sword cut into his shoulder, sinking deep into his flesh. Tears I had been blinking away poured out of my eyes as I saw his meet mine in a flurry of pain and confusion.
"Gideon!" Sophie shrieked to my right, and I saw her for the first time. And she was gawking at me in true terror. But her attention on me only lasted a second before she dove to my feet to try to stop the man, Gideon, from bleeding out.
I turned away from them, wanting to shout and scream. No sound escaped my closed lips, so I sent a silent prayer to whatever god or angel was listening to let Gideon live. I locked eyes on my next target: a girl with long, curly brown hair. She was clutching a dagger and seemed to be fighting off a machine. I only said machine because half of its face was gone, replaced by gears and turning rods. This was an automaton, a clockwork creature created by Mortmain to attack the Shadowhunters of the London Institute. And by the way they were moving around, I knew was somehow part of their attack.
The second carriage burst into flames and I could hear Charlotte yell for Jessamine before screaming, "Henry!" I couldn't look to see if either of them were okay. Like Gideon, I prayed for their safety.
The girl with the dagger had fought off the last automaton, and I noticed a large, hag like figure approach her next. This wasn't a clockwork device. The talons screamed warlock. If this girl had a warlock fighting her, she could be only one person: Tessa Gray.
A shadow blocked my view of Tessa and my arms automatically threw themselves up to protect myself from the attacker. Black hair filled my vision and I stiffened, this time of my own accord.
A handsome boy. Will Herondale. Pale skin and high cheekbones. The bluest eyes. And they were filled with pain and anger, directed at me.
"Who are you?" he snarled.
My eyes widen and the tear tracks on my face run cold with ice. He doesn't think I'm me, I thought. Or, at least, he believes me to be a traitor. More than anything, I want my first glimpse of Will to be full of happiness and passion, not hatred.
My only external answer to him is to thrust my sword at him. With lightning reflexes, he dodges the attack and parries with one of his own. I move with grace and swiftness I never knew I possessed. But I try to ground my arms, hold back my legs so I can stop attacking him. But I only move faster.
Blood dripped to the ground. Was it mine or Will's? Will's. The sword had nicked his cheek, giving him a shallow cut along the side of his face. My stomach dropped at the sight of the dark, red liquid flowing from Will.
Stop.
Will's grip tightened around his seraph blade.
Stop.
His eyes narrowed as he lurched forward for a straight on attack.
STOP!
The blade plunged into my stomach. Blood forced its way out of my mouth and trailed down my face in twin lines. On instinct, I sank to my knees, but I felt no pain. My hands, shaking, dropped the sword. It clattered to my side. I looked down and saw the blossom of red soak the blue gown I wore. The golden handle protruded from a spot just left of my navel, lodged between my ribs. All the weariness I felt before I awoke in the infirmary returned to my body.
"Thank God," I muttered. I'm not sure what it was I was thanking God for, but I knew at least some of my pleads had been heard. I was in control again. I hadn't killed Will. He stopped me. I could die now.
"By the Angel," Will whispered.
I looked up, grunting a little as I felt the blade press against my ribs and restricting my movements. Still, I didn't feel any was standing above me, eyes wide with shock and lips slack. Then I had to look back down, the pressure in my side turning from restricting to uncomfortable.
"Stay away, Will," I said.
"What the hell is going on…"
"You can't trust me," I warned. "Something's wrong, something else…" But I couldn't finish as a wave of coughing forced excess blood from my throat. I fell to my side and curled my body around the seraph blade.
Will ignored my earlier warning and was at my side in an instant. His hands gently placed my head onto the ground and it looked as if he were now worried or possibly sad. There was no more fire dancing in his eyes.
"I was trapped, I couldn't move or speak-some sort of spell." My words were coming out labored and fast. The numb feeling in my stomach was starting to spread. I didn't have much time left. "L-leave me here. Save Tess... she d-doesn't deserve…" Soon. I was leaving.
Will took a moment to process my words. Then, without warning, he was tearing off a piece of his shirt. In quick, precise movements, the seraph blade was ripped from my body and the wound was wrapped in white cloth. The cloth swiftly turned red with my blood, and Will's hands, which were providing pressure, glistened in the sun. "I will not leave you," he growled.
At first, I detected malice in his words. But the hurt in his eyes told another story. "...sorry…" I whispered. He just shook his head. With the last remaining strength I could muster, I raised my arm up to his face, my hand cupping his cheek. My thumb glossed over a single tear falling from his eyes. "I…" and then I was gone. Black seeped into my newly gained vision before my hand could hit the ground.
