New Orleans, Louisiana 2013
A bronze bell rang throughout the noisy Downworld restaurant. Liam Trueblood lowered his hood as he entered and scanned the crowd, catching the eyes of some lycanthropes from Levi's pack, some vampires and even a faery or two. There were no hostile expressions exchanged as the Shadowhunter slid into a seat.
Downworlders and Shadowhunters were relatively more peaceful in New Orleans than any other part of the world. There was rarely any crimes involving Downworlders.
"What can I get for you, Liam?" asked Theodore Town. He tapped his silver fingernails against the oak bar. His warlock mark was the reason the Silver Bite had its name.
"Nothing," he replied. "The High Warlock of New Orleans requested a meeting with me." Liam habitually chewed on the inside of his cheeks as he waited, looking both ways for the High Warlock.
Finally, the bronze bell rang again just as the Silver Bite began emptying out. A tall young man entered, wearing a gray T-shirt that had a rainbow on it, the bottom was tied up baring a sliver of pale skin, bright red trousers with purple suspenders and a black fedora. This was Cristov Hood, the High Warlock of New Orleans.
"You said seven o'clock," Liam noted, sighing exasperatedly.
"I know," replied Cristov, speaking with his native Irish dialect. "Sorry, but I was with a client."
"Why go to you when they can just go to regular psychic fraud?" Liam teased and placed a crumpled up slip of paper on the bar. "You said that you had information of an upcoming Downworld riot?" Liam glued his eyes to the warlock's fedora. "Where did you get that fedora, and where can I get one?"
Cristov removed the black fedora revealing a head of messy dark blond hair. His eyes flashed a bright shade of violet—Cristov's warlock marks were his eyes that acted like a mood ring and his pointed ears—and he replied with, "I conjured it up just yesterday. You must be gone in the head if you think I'd give this to you."
"I was hoping," Liam admitted sheepishly. "You could just conjure up another one, right?"
"I could but—we're getting off topic! I didn't specifically mean a "riot" per say, but something of the sort. I've heard it from the vampires, Stacia's clan, that some were planning to feed off the humans." Cristov fished a smartphone out of his back pocket and placed it between them. The screen flickered to life and displayed a conversation between himself and two people by the name of Caroline White and Ian Martin. "Ian, my vampire friend, said that some vampires from Stacia's clan are planning to feed during tomorrow's festival."
Liam frowned. Stacia Honors was usually a very coordinated vampire clan leader, and she was cruel when it came to the breaking of the Accords. He recalled once when she forced one of her sires to ingest holy water and he perished where he stood.
"Stacia would never allow that," he stated.
"I know," Cristov tapped his index finger on his forehead. "Something's going on. And I intend to find out." He snapped his fingers, weaving orange sparks between his fingers and a mug of coffee appeared on the bar. "That is all. You may leave now. Unless you wish to find out where I found this fedora?"
Liam moved off the seat. "I'll pass. Let me know when you've found something."
Elliot Raventide lounged in an armchair in the library with a demonology book in his lap. Though his knowledge on demons was so vast it was practically nonexistent, Elliot needed something to pass the time other than training. He couldn't see how his parabatai did it with hours and hours spent on perfecting his already perfect accuracy.
"Hello," Liam entered the library. "Rereading that demonology textbook again?" The parabatai rune peeked out of his collar as he moved to sit on the leather couch.
"Well, what else can I do?" Elliot sat up and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Play Angry Birds," it was all about technology nowadays, with smartphones and tablets and any other devices mundanes came up with. "Or you could go out, like mundanes, with that werewolf girl—what's her name?—Lexi."
"Levi doesn't allow his pack to date Shadowhunters," he replied, his golden eyes alight.
"It's sexier when it's secret," spoke Avena Everbloom as she leaped down from the second floor level. Dark green eyes stared straight through Liam's two-colored gaze, as though she was familiar with the half-fey with one violet eye and one dark blue eye. "Oh yes, I know about Eli's little Downworlder romance."
"How did she find out?" Liam demanded, his eyes still trained on Avena. She was a new ward to the Institute, and very beautiful. She was a head shorter than he was, with a lithe figure and brilliant jade eyes that almost glowed, platinum blond hair tumbled down her shoulders ending in the middle of her back, and pearly white skin that faintly reminded Liam of that of the complexion of a faery.
"She may or may not have caught us together," confessed Elliot sheepishly.
"Wait—by together do you mean 'together'?" He frowned.
"Together."
"I caught the wolf chick and Elliot in the sack," stated Avena bluntly.
"Oh, that is—when did you two—"
"Can we we please stop, I have been trying to erase that memory since I saw it," Avena closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her eyes snapped open when there was a shrill scream.
The three Shadowhunters quickly left the library and found Victor Merryweather—the current caretaker for the Institute—clutching his daughter to his body. Like a cage to a canary. Melinda was moaning incoherent phrases and her Shadowhunter gear shone with fresh blood. Victor was murmuring to his daughter, things like "it's going to be okay" and "I'll take care of you". But no one was paying any attention to his words. Six pairs of eyes were staring at the large bleeding gash in her side. It gleamed like metal to sunlight.
"Is that…silver?" whispered Elliot, but everyone heard him.