Author's note: Have I mentioned lately how much I love my reviewers? You're all awesome and I love each and every one! In other words, WE MADE IT TO 100 REVIEWS! Ahem, thank you all so very much. Without further ado, I give you W.
PryingLittlePandora: Thank you once again for all the time you have spent encouraging my attempts at writing. I'm happy to know there's another Jem fangirl out there :). And I caused boyfriend puzzlement? Yay, I reached an author milestone! :D
Disclaimer: In case the last 22 chapters haven't convinced you, which I highly doubt, I shall say—type, rather—it again: I do not own The Infernal Devices.
Withstand
The shutters rattled as another gust of wind hit the small house. Rain pounded against the roof. A flash of light illuminated everything for an instant, followed almost immediately by a great boom that seemed to shake the structure to its foundation.
Cecily squeaked and hid her face in her brother's shirt. She could feel him quivering, too, but surely that was just because…
Why would he be shaking, anyway?
A moment later came the answer, accompanied by yet another massive clap of thunder.
He was laughing at her.
That had to be it. He was laughing at her because he knew that there was nothing to be scared of.
After all, her big brother wasn't scared of anything.
"Don't worry, Cecy," he whispered. "This old house has weathered worse storms. We'll be fine."
Cecily smiled. She snuggled a bit closer and slowly drifted off to sleep.
As long as her brother was there, nothing could hurt her.
Wicked
Nate Gray twisted his head around toward the door. A faint click reached his ears, confirming someone's arrival. After sweeping his eyes along the warehouse floor once more, he made his way down the stairs to meet his guest. Slowly. There was no reason to rush; she could—and would—wait.
None of the workers called out to him as he passed, allowing him a rare moment of uninterrupted thought. He used it to ponder exactly why those monstrous Nephilim were working so hard to stop his master. There was self-preservation instinct, of course, but surely they could see that the Magister could not be stopped. And it was not as though the Magister was inherently evil.
Nate paused at the door to the office, his hand on the knob. He glanced behind him once more at the mass of metal and the workers scurrying to meet their daily quota.
Times are changing, he thought with a smile. If the Nephilim do not acknowledge that, they will certainly die.
Of course, they will most likely die anyway.
Thanks bunches for reading!