⋆ ˚ 。⋆ ✧ ⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼ ✧ ⋆ 。˚ ⋆

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: LIAR, LIAR

❛tu me manques.❜

⋆ ✧ ⋆

To give time to Julian to explain the situation to his siblings, Zoya had taken it upon herself to drop Theodore off at the infirmary room to catch up with Diego and Cristina. In all honesty, it was the best plan she could come up with, seeing that she was to spend a good amount of time learning about all the secrets Julian Blackthorn had been keeping from them.

The thought of Julian being capable of behaving as if everything were normal for years now awoke a wave of unpleasantness within the Caldwell girl's body. Her insides were churning at the mere thought that she had never noticed that her Julian ー the same boy she considered her friend, the same boy she had grown to love ー was keeping secrets from her.

All these years, she had spent nearly every night with Julian ー watching him paint or just talking. She had poured her own soul out to him, sharing every detail about her worst fears with the boy, never expecting anything in return. Julian had always listened, giving every part of himself to Zoya, searching and thinking of solutions as if it were no bother to him.

And yet, though Zoya had opened her own heart to him, he had never once shared a single one of his secrets with her. Never once given her a reason to doubt that there was something he was hiding.

Zoya never pushed, never pried her nose into the matters that weren't her concern, but she hoped ー God, she hoped ー that he trusted her enough to tell her if there was anything that bothered him.

As it appeared, he didn't.

Hadn't it been for Belinda's bold exclamation, Zoya was fairly certain that none of them would have found out about the secrets he'd been keeping. They would have continued living a lie and Julian would have continued to feel as if he were sinking into the deepest parts of the ocean.

"Tavvy's awake playing upstairs." Drusilla's voice echoed against the wide corridor, making Zoya freeze at the top of the staircase. Her hands came to rest upon the railing, gaze glued to the scene beneath her.

Julian was surrounded by his siblings ー a furious looking Livvy, puzzled Ty and sleepy Dru. His features were beyond tired, but the boy still found enough strength to mask his true feelings in front of his brother and sisters.

"Hopefully he'll pass out," Dru mused, playing with the edge of her midnight-colored pajamas. "Usually he can sleep through a war. I meanー"

"This wasn't a war," Julian spoke softly. "Though there were some bad moments before Malcolm showed up."

It was the second thing that didn't make sense to Zoya, right after the part where Belinda knew who was truly running the Los Angeles Institute. She found it awfully convenient that Malcolm had showed up just in time to protect them from Belinda's forces. Surely she trusted Julian's judgement of the warlock's character, but it was rather interesting how he responded the moment Julian called up on him and told him of the so-called Followers gathering before the Institute's gates. Had he begged the warlock for a translation of the same words Ty and Livvy were thoroughly examining, Malcolm would have probably stated that he had other things to do.

It wasn't that Zoya was being ungrateful ー she appreciated the warlock's intervention ー but certain details just didn't line up.

"What about next time?" Ty questioned curiously. "We're going to have to call the Conclave. We can't do this on our own or expect Malcolm always to be there."

"The Conclave can't know," Julian uttered quietly.

"Jules," Livvy sighed. "I mean, we all get it, but isn't there some way ー I mean, the Conclave would have to understand about Mark ー he's our brotherー"

"I'll handle it," Julian reassured.

"What if they come back?" Dru asked, eyebrows raising as she met her older brother's gaze.

"Do you trust me?" Julian dedicated a meaningful glance to each of his siblings, lips curving into a gentle smile. They all nodded, never once doubting their older brother. "Then don't worry about it. They won't be back."

The brunette boy offered a quick hug to each member of his family, ushering them to head to bed.

Zoya's shoulders jerked the moment she noticed the Blackthorns beginning to climb the staircase, an alarm spreading through the back of her head. She was quick to cascade down the steps, sending Dru, Livvy and Ty a soft, comforting smile as she found her way to Julian.

"You were eavesdropping, weren't you?" Julian waited upon Zoya, briefly examining the girl's frame.

The blue-eyed girl was still wearing her gear, taking a few seconds of the spare time to pull her hair into a loose bun. "Maybe," she said as they neared the dining room. Her hand rested on the frigid handle, but the girl found herself stealing a glance at Julian. "You're a good brother, Jules. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise."

Not waiting for his response, the raven-haired girl pushed the door open, feet effortlessly sliding across the smooth tiles.

The formal dining room, to Zoya's unwanted opinion, should have been named 'The Abandoned Room'. The Blackthorn family was so used to eating their meals in the kitchen that they almost never bothered to set their foot in the grand place that was labeled the dining room ー save for the rare occasions when Arthur decided to join them.

Contrary to the amiable kitchen, the dining room had an eerie tone to it. There was less light illuminating it, not to mention that the portraits of the Blackthorn family seemed to faithfully follow their every move. Rupert and John and Tristan, along with Adelaide, Jesse and Tatiana. All of them seemed to be busy overlooking the long oak table which was too large to be occupied just by Emma, Zoya, Julian and Mark.

"Julian," Emma began, standing up from her chair the moment the brunette boy crossed the doorstep. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. You don't have to tell us anythingー"

Julian allowed his hand to push a few fallen locks away from his forehead, back leaning against the door. His face was drained of color, purple bags becoming visible underneath the grand witchlight chandelier.

"I do, actually," Julian answered, glancing at each occupant of the room. Mark was comfortably seated in his chair, on the left side of the table. Emma was nearby, torso bent over the smooth surface and supported by her palms. Zoya, on the other hand, chose to stand on the right side, arms folded over her small chest as she observed the place. "I need to talk for a little while without being interrupted. After that, I'll answer any questions you have. All right?"

Zoya found herself unconsciously nodding toward Julian, allowing him to unfold the tale he was yearning to share.

"After the Dark War, it was only because of Uncle Arthur that they let us come back here, to our home," he began slowly. "It was only because we had a guardian that we were allowed to stay together. A guardian who was related to us, not too young or too old, someone willing to promise to look after six children, make sure they were tutored and trained. No one else would have done it except Helen, and she was exiledー"

"And I was gone," Mark uttered quietly, as if he were scolding himself for it.

"It wasn't your faultー" Julian inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes tightly. His shoulders trembled, as if unable to carry the weight of his secrets. "If you talk," he continued, "if you say anything, I won't be able to get through this."

Mark tilted his head down, as if ashamed. "My apologies."

"Even if you hadn't been taken, Mark, you'd have been too young. Only someone over eighteen can run an Institute and be the guardian of children." Julian bit his lips, gaze focused on his hands. "The Clave thought Uncle Arthur would be that guardian. So did we. I thought it when he came here, and even for weeks afterward. Maybe months. I don't remember. I know that he never really bothered to try to get to know any of us, but I told myself it didn't matter. I told myself we didn't need a guardian who would love us. Just someone who would keep us together."

A cold chill danced down Zoya's spine. She knew what Julian was afraid of ー losing home, losing his siblings, losing the only thing that kept him sane.

It was the same thing Zoya had lost when she was his age. She had been ordered to leave the York Institute, her home, because there was no one there that would have taken care of a young girl.

"We loved each other enough, I thought. For it not to matter. Maybe he couldn't show affection, but he could still be a good custodian of the Institute. Then as he came downstairs less and less, and the letters from other Institutes and calls from the Clave went unanswered, I started to realize there was more that was seriously wrong. It was soon after the Cold Peace, and territorial disputes were ripping the city apart, vamps and werewolves and warlocks going after what used to belong to faeries. We were besieged with calls, visits, demands we handle the problem. I'd go up to the attic, bring Arthur his food, beg him to deal with what needed to be done to keep the Clave from stepping in. Because I knew what would happen if they did. We'd no longer have a guardian, and then we'd no longer have a home. And thenー"

He shook his head, stealing a glance at Emma and Zoya.

"They would have sent Zoya and Emma to the new Academy in Idris. It was what they wanted to do in the first place. They would have sent the rest of us to London, probably. Tavvy was just a baby. They would have placed him with another family. Drusilla too. As for Ty ー imagine what they would have done with Ty. The moment he didn't act the way they thought he should, they would have shoved him into the 'dregs' program at the Academy. Separated him from Livvy. It would have killed them both."

Julian took a deep breath, his eyes focused on the portrait of Jesse Blackthorn.

"So I begged Arthur to respond to the Clave, to do anything that would show that he was the head of the Institute. Letters were piling up. Urgent messages. We didn't have weapons and he wouldn't requisition them. We were running out of seraph blades. I came upstairs one night to ask himー" His voice broke. "To ask him if he'd sign letters if I wrote them, about the territorial disputes, and I found him on the floor with a knife. He was cutting his skin open, he said, to let the evil out."

Zoya was entirely taken aback by Julian's revelation. She had never known that Arthur was so unstable.

"I bandaged him up. But after that I talked to him, and I realized. Uncle Arthur's reality is not our reality. He lives in a dreamworld where sometimes I'm Julian and sometimes I'm my father. He talks to people who aren't there. Oh, there are times when he's clear about who he is and where he is. But they come and go. There are bad periods where he doesn't know any of us for weeks. Then times of clarity where you might imagine he was getting better. But he'll never get better."

"You're saying he's mad," Mark spoke.

Zoya stared at the blond boy. 'Madness' or, as Shadowhunters called it, 'lunacy' was meant to describe an ongoing trouble ー a detachment from reality ー a person was facing. To say that the Clave was ruthless when treating such people would have been an understatement.

"Lunatic, I guess the Clave would say," Julian said, lips twisting as he uttered the word. "It's amazing that you're still a Shadowhunter if you have a sickness of the body, but apparently not if you have a sickness of the mind. I knew even when I was twelve that if the Clave found out what kind of state Arthur was really in, they'd take the Institute. They'd break up our family and scatter us. And I would not let that happen."

The blue-green gaze collided with the aquamarine one.

The distant memory of Julian and herself discussing the topic of possible separation of their family flashed before her eyes. He had told her that he was selfish for not wanting Emma and Zoya to leave.

"I had enough of my family taken from me during the war," he proceeded. "We all did. We'd lost so much. Mother, Father, Helen, Mark. They would have torn us apart until we were adults and by then we wouldn't be a family anymore. They were my children. Livvy. Ty. Dru. Tavvy. I raised them. I became Uncle Arthur. I took the correspondence, I answered it. I did the requisitioning. I drew up the patrol schedules. I never let anyone know Arthur was sick. I said he was eccentric, a genius, hard at work in his attic. The truth wasー" He ripped his gaze away from the three Shadowhunters. "When I was younger I hated him. I never wanted him to come out of his attic, but sometimes he had to. The disputes over territory had to be handled in person. There were face-to-face meetings that couldn't be avoided, and no one was going to hold their important summit with a twelve-year-old boy. So I went to Malcolm. He was able to create a drug that I could give to Uncle Arthur. It forced periods of clarity. They only lasted a few hours, and afterward Arthur would have headaches."

Zoya had thought of all the times she caught Arthur behaving a bit strange. The look in his eyes, as if he were fighting an invisible enemy, suddenly made sense.

"Sometimes I'd try to keep him out of the way with other methods," Julian spoke, disgusted of himself. "Like tonight, Malcolm gave him a sleeping draught. I know it's wrong. Believe me, I've felt like I might go to Hell for it. If there is a Hell. I knew I shouldn't do what I was doing. Malcolm kept quiet, he never told anyone, but I could tell he didn't exactly approve. He wanted me to tell the truth. But the truth would have destroyed our family."

Mark's face was blank as he stared at his brother. "What about Diana?"

"I never exactly told her," Julian replied. "But I think she's guessed at least some of it."

"Why couldn't she have been asked to run the Institute? Instead of it being in the hands of a twelve-year-old boy?"

"I asked her. She said no. She said it was impossible. She was genuinely sorry, and she said she'd help however she could. Diana has ー her own secrets." Julian shook his head. "One last thing. I said I hated Arthur. But that was a long time ago. I don't hate him now. I hate the Clave for what they would do to him, to us, if they knew."

Julian's hands gripped the back of the chair that was positioned at the table's head. Shadows decorated his hollow cheeks, witchlight painting the ends of his hair silver.

"So now you know," he said, head tilting low. "If you hate me, I understand. I can't think of anything else I could have done. But I'd understand."

Zoya couldn't believe Julian's words. Though he had kept a secret bigger than any of them to himself, how could he have expected them to hate him? How could he have expected them to look upon him differently, when he was the one who sacrificed himself for his family all these years?

"I think we knew." Emma was the first one to speak, hazel orbs searching for Zoya's. "We didn't know. . . but we knew." She stole a glance at Julian, a weak smile appearing on her lips. "We did, didn't we? We knew someone was taking care of everything and that it wasn't Arthur. If we let ourselves believe he ran the Institute, it was because it was easier. It was what we wanted to be true."

Julian nodded, blue-green eyes focused on his brother. "Mark?"

Mark, do you hate me?

The blond boy stood up from his chair. "I have no right to pass judgment upon you, brother. Once I was the elder, but now you are elder than I. When I was in the faerie country, each night I would think of each of you ー of you and Helen, of Livvy and Ty and Dru and Tavvy. I gave the stars your names, so that when I saw them wink to light in the sky I felt as if you were with me. It was all I could do to still the fear that you were hurt or dying and that I would never know. But I have come back to a family not just alive and healthy, but whose bonds have not been severed, and that is because of what you have done. There is love here, among you. Such love as takes my breath out of my body. There has even been enough love left for me."

Zoya watched the exchange between the brothers with a bitter lump in her throat.

"If you want me to tell the others," Julian said. "I will."

"Now is not the time to decide," Mark whispered. For the first time since Mark's arrival, there didn't seem to be a barrier between the two Blackthorn brothers. "Not when there are enemies circling us and the Institute, not when our lives and blood are on the line."

"It's a heavy burden to bear, this secret," Julian said, tone a mixture of hope and heaviness.

Zoya felt everything the boy felt; the wrongness that roamed through his heart for lying, the guilt, the new ray of hope.

"And if the Followers go through with their threatー"

For the first time since Julian began speaking, Zoya decided to interrupt. Her gaze had been sharp as it skipped between the three Shadowhunters. "Forgive me for interrupting," she said. "But don't you think that it's a bit odd that Belinda and her crew know about Arthur? How did they find out?"

Julian met Zoya's gaze. "I don't know," he responded, shaking his head. "But I think we're going to need to find out."

⋆ ✧ ⋆

The sky had been painted in faint watercolors. Pale lagoon blue dissolved under the iridescent touch of golden, sipping through the drawn curtains of the computer room and announcing the late hours.

The residents of Los Angeles Institute had gathered together, surrounded by empty boxes of pizza and engaged in fierce conversation.

As always, Ty had been comfortably occupying his computer chair, with Livvy sitting nearby in case her assistance was needed. Mark was propped on a chair across from them, boldly glaring at Diego and Cristina whose shoulders brushed. Drusilla, who tried to entertain Tavvy in the distant corner, had noticed the particular one-sided display of bitterness, eyes widening in bewilderment and hand trying to cover the parting of her lips.

Zoya merely chuckled at the scene, deciding on commenting nothing and allowing Emma to finish the short retelling of the events that came after Cristina and she succeeded in tracking Sterling. The blonde girl made sure to mention all the details Sterling had told them about the Lottery and the Guardian, occasionally glaring at Theodore as he joined to fill in the gaps she stumbled upon.

"So," Ty stated, glancing in between Theodore and Diego who sat on either side of the small coffee table. "You're Centurions?"

"I studied at the Scholomance," Diego answered promptly, eyes skipping to Cristina who was seated next to him. He kept on stealing glances every now and then, as if he wanted to make sure her leg wasn't bleeding again. "I was the youngest aspirant ever to become a Centurion."

"Which is not the truth, of course." Theodore cleared his throat, meeting Diego's gaze in a teasing manner. "I am a day younger than you, so that makes me the youngest aspirant."

Diego rolled his eyes, keeping his mouth shut. Everyone else stared at them, clearly impressed.

"That's like being a detective, isn't it?" Ty proceeded. "You investigate for the Clave?"

"That is one of the things we do," Diego explained. "We stand outside the Law that precludes Shadowhunters from involving themselves in issues that relate to faeries."

"The Clave can make that exception for any Shadowhunter, though, in exigent cases," Julian joined the conversation. He was leaning against the wall, Zoya keeping him company. "Why was Diana told we couldn't investigate? Why did they send you?"

"Unfortunately," Theodore took it upon himself to answer. "The Clave had concluded that, considering your connection to the Fair Folk, you wouldn't be capable of objectively investigating the case. All because some of the murdered victims were faeries."

"That is entirely unreasonable," Mark scoffed loudly.

"I don't make the rules," Theodore replied, lifting his hands in surrender.

"But is it, really?" Diego questioned, eyebrows arching up. "From all I have heard and seen, you appear to have mounted a secret investigation into this issue, telling the Clave nothing about it. You have compiled evidence that you have not shared. You have discovered a murderous cult operating in secret. . ."

"You make it sound so shady," Emma retorted. "So far all you've done is show up in L. A. and shoot another Shadowhunter."

Diego's gaze travelled to Zoya who shook her head, hand falling upon Julian's wrist almost instinctively. Everyone had noticed the way the brunette boy's knuckles had clenched, his torso inclining forward as if he was preparing himself to lunge at his opponent.

"It's healed," Zoya brushed it off. "Mostly. It still hurts sometimes, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"I bet you didn't report that to the Scholomance," added Emma. "Did you, Perfect Diego?"

"I have reported nothing to the Scholomance," Diego replied. "Not since I found out Cristina was involved in this as well. I would never hurt her."

A vivid blush covered the Rosales girl's cheeks as soon as she registered Diego's response.

"You're a Centurion," Ty added, nose scrunching. "You have vows—"

Theodore chuckled in amusement, meeting Ty's gaze. "You'll find that some vows are made to be broken," he confessed. "Especially when love and friendship is involved."

"That's beautiful," Dru chimed in, eyeing the two Centurion boys as if she was enchanted.

"That's very touching," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "Now talk. What do you know?"

Zoya wore a proud smile on her face, her heart filling with joy as Emma took it upon herself to handle the situation. She was a tough nut to crack, fierce whenever she spoke of the matters that touched those who were dear to her heart.

The girl of obsidian hair, however, found herself only loosely listening to the conversation that followed. Her attention was focused on her and Julian's hands which somehow managed to find their way to each other, fingers intertwined and hidden from curious gazes. She could feel her heart jumping in her chest as Julian offered her hand a comforting squeeze, making Zoya look up and meet his blue-green eyes.

They were flickering with faint happiness, showing that Julian was glad to finally have the opportunity to be close to her. They also sparked with need ー need to talk about everything that took place. Not just the secrets Julian had shared with her, Emma and Mark, but them, as well.

"Why would he do that?" Livvy's voice brought Zoya out of her daydream. She was surprised to hear that Diego had already gone to Arthur, but the man had chased him off, telling him that he didn't want him interfering with the matters that didn't concern him. "Uncle Arthur doesn't like strangers, but he's not a liar."

Zoya felt Julian stiffen beside her; it was a tiny movement, but she felt it like an earthquake. The jerk of his shoulders, the sharp intake of breath. Though she couldn't comfort him with words, she managed to squeeze his hand in hopes of easing his worries and burdens.

"A lot of Shadowhunters of the older generation don't trust Centurions," he said. "The Scholomance was closed in 1872, and Centurions no longer trained. You know how adults are about things they didn't grow up with."

Livvy brushed the explanation off, allowing Ty to proceed with his interview. "Where did you go after that, Diego and Theo?"

"They met Johnny Rook," Cristina joined from beside Diego. "And Rook tipped him off about the Sepulchre, just like he did with Emma."

"We went there immediately," Diego explained. "We'd been waiting days in the alleys behind the bar. Then we heard a girl screaming."

Emma turned in her seat, eyes skipping to Cristina and Zoya. "We didn't hear that."

"I think it was before you arrived," Diego informed them. "I followed the sound and saw a group of Followers, including Belinda ー though I didn't know who they were then ー attacking a girl. Slapping her, spitting on her. There were chalk protective circles drawn on the ground. I saw that symbol ー the lines of water under the sign for fire. I had seen it at the Market. An old, old sign for resurgence."

"Resurgence," Ty repeated. "Necromancy?"

Theo confirmed Ty's question by nodding. "We fought off the Followers, but the girl got away. Ran to her car."

"That was Ava?" Zoya questioned.

"Yes. She saw us and raced off. We followed her to her house, managed to convince her to tell us everything she knew about the Midnight Theater, the Followers, the Lottery. It wasn't much, but we learned that she had been chosen by the Lottery. That she had been the one who killed Stanley Wells, knowing that if she didn't, she would be tortured and killed herself."

"She told you everything?" Livvy inquired, eyebrows arched up in puzzlement. "But they're sworn to secrecy."

Diego shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know why she took us into her confidenceー"

"Seriously, dude?" Emma laughed. "Do you not own any mirrors?"

"Emma!" Cristina scolded.

"Is she always blunt like this?" Theodore questioned, leaning into his chair and smirking at Emma.

"For your information, yes," Emma countered, glaring at the Centurion. "You're just jealous I didn't compliment your looks."

"Sure, Emily," the boy chuckled in amusement.

The blonde girl scoffed in Theo's direction, sending a warning glance.

"Alright," Zoya interrupted, slowly letting go of Julian's hand and joining her arms over her chest. "Perhaps Theo should share with us what happened afterwards and not add fuel to Emma's fire, yes?"

"If you insist," Theodore smiled. Everyone had already gotten the brief introduction of who Theodore was, trying to look past his mistakes of abandoning the raven-haired girl when she needed him the most. "Ava had murdered him a few days before. She was already torn apart by guilt. She'd shown up in the alley because she wanted to see his body. She said an odd thing about the chalk circles ー that they were useless, there to mislead. Very little she was saying made sense."

Diego nodded at his friend. "We told her we would protect her. I even slept on her porch. The next day she demanded I leave. She said she wished to be with the Guardian and the other Followers. That it was her place. She insisted I go, so I went. Theo and I returned to the Market, bought weaponry from Johnny Rook. Theo went to take care of some things and I went to Ava's, but when I arrived that night, she was dead. She had been choked and drowned in the pool, her hand sliced off."

"They have to mean something," Zoya deduced. "When I fought Belinda, she was missing a hand, as well. The only difference between her and Sterling is that she is alive and missing only one hand. Sterling's dead and missing both."

"Maybe they're proof to the Guardian that someone's dead," suggested Livvy. "Like the Huntsman bringing back Snow White's heart in a box."

"Or maybe they're part of the spell," Diego suggested. "Ava and Belinda were missing their dominant hands ー perhaps Belinda didn't know which was Sterling's, so she took both."

"A piece of the killer to go with the sacrifice?" Julian inquired. "We're going to need to dig more deeply into the necromancy section of the library."

"That's a good idea," Theodore agreed.

"Yes," nodded Diego. "I wished I had access to your library after we found Ava Leigh dead. I had failed in my duty to protect a mundane who needed my help. I swore I would find out who had done it. I waited on her roof—"

"Yeah, we know what happened," Julian responded. "We'll remember it every time we see Zoya, you know?"

"Jules," the raven-haired girl whispered toward Julian. She had noticed the way he treated the two Centurions; he didn't trust them, or liked them. Zoya couldn't quite blame him ー one had abandoned her when she was younger and the other attempted to kill her. "There's no need to point that out. I lived, didn't I?"

Diego's gaze searched for Zoya. "I'm very sorry about that."

The Caldwell girl nodded briefly, as if she acknowledged his apology.

"I want to know what happened next," Ty said, his pen dancing across the blank pages of his notebook. "You found out Sterling was the next one chosen and followed him?"

"Yes," Diego continued. "And I saw you were trying to protect him. I didn't understand why. I am sorry, but after what Arthur said to me, I suspected you all. I knew I should turn you in to the Clave, but I couldn't do it." He looked at Cristina.

Theodore must have noticed the way his friend's explanation had grown slower, taking it upon himself to continue. "There was also the fact that I knew Zoya," Theo pointed out. "We both had our reasons not to report to the Clave, but the story doesn't end there. As you know, Zoya had contacted me last night and, thank the Angel, she did. That's how we figured out that our sides of the story don't match. We ran toward the bar where Cristina, Emma and Diego were, preventing a possible bloodbath."

"Indeed," Diego said. "I am glad we waited to hear your side of the story. Now that I have it, I am glad I was wrong about your involvement."

"You should be," Mark mumbled under his breath.

Diego didn't seem to have registered his words. "So maybe now you tell us what you know. It would only be fair."

Mark was the one to speak of everything that happened on their behalf, purposefully omitting the details that pertained his return and Fair Folk involvement.

"Blackthorn blood," Diego mused. "That is interesting. I would have guessed the Carstairs had more relevance to these spells, given the deaths five years ago."

"Very empathetic of you," Zoya chimed in. "The people you're talking about were Emma's parents, you know?"

From the corner of her eye, Zoya noticed Tavvy yawning and quietly slipping out of the room. He must have been drained; the stories of murders did little good to calm the young, innocent soul.

"Yes," Diego nodded. "One of the questions I have had has been the fact that they were killed five years ago, and then there were no more killings until this last year. Why such a gap in time?"

"We thought maybe the spell required it," Livvy proposed, mirroring Tavvy's yawn. Exhaustion was written over everyone's faces; it was the one thing they all had in common.

"That is another thing: In the car, Sterling said it didn't matter what kind of creature they killed, human or faerie ー even Nephilim, if we count the Carstairs murders."

Cristina added, "He said they couldn't murder werewolves or warlocksー"

"I imagine they were staying away from creatures protected by the Accords," Julian humed. "It would have drawn attention. Our attention."

"Perhaps," answered Theo, hand gently stroking his chin. "But otherwise, for it not to matter what kind of victim they chose? Human or faerie, male or female, old or young? Sacrificial magic requires commonalities among the victims ー all those with the Sight, all virgins, or all with a certain type of blood. Here it seems random."

Ty couldn't stop staring at Diego and Theodore, fascination threaded in his every word. "The Scholomance sounds so cool," he pointed out. "I had no idea they let you learn so much about spells and magic."

Diego offered a charming smile, casting a veil of impression over each of the children. Such an action seemed to annoy Mark even more.

"Can we see the photos of the convergence?" Diego asked. "It sounds very significant. I am impressed you found it."

"It was surrounded by Mantid demons when we went, so we have pictures of the inside but not the outside," Mark explained, eyes moving along with Ty who acquired the pictures. "As for the demons, Emma and I took care of them."

A brief moment of silence greeted them as Ty began spreading the images Diego had wanted to see over the small coffee table."It's energy magic," he explained. "We know that much."

"Yes," Diego agreed. "Energy can be stored, especially death energy, and used later in necromancy. But we don't know what someone would need all that energy for."

"For a summoning spell," Livvy yawned. "That's what Malcolm said, anyway."

Theodore found himself leaning over the pictures, gaze colliding with Diego's. His forehead was creased, as if he had heard the most absurd thing in the world. "I don't think that's very likely," he said to Diego. "Do you?"

Diego seemed to agree. "Death energy allows you to do death magic. This magician is trying to bring back someone from the dead."

"But who?" Ty glanced in between the Centurions. "Someone powerful?"

"No," Dru joined. "He's trying to bring back Annabel. Annabel Lee."

Zoya's head snapped in the girl's direction, along with everyone else's.

"The ー the poem's written on the inside of the convergence cave, right?" She continued, glad to see the encouraging smiles coming from two Centurions. "And everyone was trying to figure out if it was a code or a spell, but what if it's just a reminder? This person ー the magician ー they lost someone they loved, and they're trying to bring her back."

"Someone so mad to get back their lost love that they founded a cult, killed more than a dozen people, created that cave at the convergence, etched that poem on the wall, created a Portal to the ocean . . . ?" The expression of Livvy's face spoke tales of astonishment and doubt.

"I would do it," Dru said, "if it was someone I really loved. It might not even have been a girlfriend ー maybe a mother or a sister or whatever. I mean, you'd do it for Zoya, right, Jules, Emma? If she died?"

Zoya stiffened, pupils dilating as she registered Dru's question. A sharp pang pierced her chest.

"What kind of a question is that, Dru?" Julian's voice was brittle as he glanced at the raven-haired girl.

Dru took a breath. "I didn't mean anything wrong," she apologized. "It was just so obvious that you and Emma were concerned when Zoya was shotー"

The conversation died down before it was capable of opening new wounds. Tavvy had stood on the door, wide-eyed and with a book in his hands. "Dru is right."

"Tavvy," Julian whispered. "Tavs, what have you got there?"

Tavvy smiled weakly, erasing the distance that separated him from his brother. Clutched in between his fingers was a children's book. A Treasury of Tales for Nephilim.

"Where did you get that?" Emma questioned, surprised. There were very little of Nephilim books meant for children, seeing that most of them were destroyed in the Dark War.

"Great-Aunt Marjorie gave it to me," Tavvy answered. "I like most of the stories. The one about the first parabatai is good, but some of them are sad and scary, like the one about Tobias Herondale. And the one about Lady Midnight is the saddest."

"Lady what?" Cristina echoed.

"Midnight," repeated Tavvy. "Like the theater you went to. I heard Mark say the rhyme and I just remembered I read it before."

"You read it before?" Mark's pupils dilated. "When did you see that faerie rhyme, Octavian?"

Tavvy began opening the book in the middle of the coffee table, allowing everyone a glimpse. "There was a Shadowhunter lady," he explained. "She fell in love with someone she wasn't supposed to be in love with. Her parents trapped her in an iron castle, and he couldn't get in. She died of sadness, so the man who loved her went to the King of the faeries and asked if there was a way to bring her back. He said there was a rhyme.

'First the flame and then the flood:

In the end, it's Blackthorn blood.

Seek thou to forget what's past

First thirteen and then the last.

Search not the book of angels gray,

Red or white will lead you far astray.

To regain what you have lost,

Find the black book at any cost.'"

"So what happened?" Emma raised her brows. "To the man who went to Faerie?"

"He ate and drank faerie food," said Tavvy. "He was trapped there. The legend is that the sound of the waves crashing on the beach is his cries for her to return."

Zoya was impressed by Tavvy's brilliance.

"How did we not find this?" Julian shook his head.

"Because it's a children's book," Emma replied. "It wouldn't have been in the library."

"That's dumb," Tavvy said. "It's a good book."

"I couldn't agree more with you, Tavvy," Zoya addressed the boy, eyes softening. "But, can you tell us one thing? Why the Blackthorn blood?"

"Because she was a Blackthorn," Tavvy answered matter-of-factly. "Lady Midnight. They called her that because she had long black hair, but she had the same eyes as the rest of us. Look."

Tavvy's fingers hovered above an illustration of a beautiful woman. She possessed mesmerizing dark locks that spilled down her back and reached for a male silhouette. Her blue-green gaze was wide, as if scared.

Livvy was the first one to react, instantly snatching the book from Tavvy's hands.

"Don't tear the pages," he pleaded.

"So this is the full rhyme," she whispered. "This is what's written on the bodies."

"It's instructions," Mark observed. "If the rhyme is a true faerie rhyme, then for the right person, it is a clear list of instructions. How to bring back the dead ー not just any dead, but her. This Blackthorn woman."

"Thirteen," Emma mumbled underneath her breath, eyes travelling to Cristina.

"Yes," she breathed out. "What Sterling said ー after we caught him, after he'd killed the girl. He said she was the thirteenth."

"Not just the thirteenth," Zoya added, lips parting ways. "She was also the last. That's what he said. 'First thirteen and then the last'. The Followers have killed thirteen people, meaning that the Guardian needs one more and then he's done. He'll have enough magic to bring back Lady Midnight."

"So there'll be one more." Julian glanced at Zoya. "One that might be different from the last."

"There must be more instructions than this," Ty joined. "No one could figure out exactly how to complete this spell just from this rhyme." The boy's gray eyes were filled with uncertainty as he gazed at the group around him. "Could they?"

"No," Mark responded. "But the rhyme tells you where to look for the rest of the instructions. 'Search not the book of angels gray' ー the answer is not in the Gray Book. Nor is it in the Book of the White or in the Red Texts."

"It is in the Black Volume of the Dead," pointed out Diego. "I have heard of that book, in the Scholomance."

"What is it?" Emma questioned. "Are there copies? Is it something we could get hold of?"

"I don't think so," Theodore responded. "I've read a bit about it. Presumably, it is a book of very dark magic. Almost legendary." His eyes glimmered, as if they knew much more about the topic, but had to keep it short. "Warlocks are forbidden to own it, but whispers say that some knew of its spells. Specifically one Imogen Aldridge. Nevertheless, if there are copies, I do not know where. But we should set ourselves to find out, tomorrow."

"Yeah," Livvy agreed, rubbing her eyes in hopes of prying the sleep away. "Tomorrow."

"Do you need to go to bed, Livvy?" Julian raised his eyebrows up. He wasn't asking a question.

"No, I'm fine, I could stay upー"

Ty's glanced at his twin. "I'm exhausted," he said. "I think we should all go to sleep. In the morning we'll be able to concentrate better."

"You're right," Livvy sighed, getting up from her chair and glancing at Tavvy. "Come on," she said. "You should definitely be in bed."

"I helped, though, didn't I?" Tavvy asked as Livvy picked him up. The boy's gaze was glued to Julian, as if he were seeking approval.

"You didn't just help," Julian smiled. "I think you may have solved it, Tavs."

"Yay," Tavvy whispered sleepily, allowing his sister to carry him away.

⋆ ✧ ⋆

Sleep didn't come as easy to Emma Carstairs as she wished it did. Though the rest of her friends followed Ty and Livvy in suit, the blonde Shadowhunter found herself sitting at the kitchen counter, hands curled around the tall glass of water. Humming a light tone to herself, the girl was staring through the window and into the distant scenery. The sun had begun painting the horizon a gentle orange, announcing that the night was to meet its end.

"Emma?"

Filling her lungs with a new breath, Emma turned her head to the side only to notice the familiar frame of Theodore Montclaire slipping into the chair beside her. Even underneath the faint light of the sun and dulled witchlight, the boy's skin gleamed in all its bronze glory. His hair was cut short, oddly suiting the raw softness of his brown eyes. He wasn't nearly as perfect as Diego, but there was a natural beauty to him ー almost like the one she saw in the warriors of various mythology books.

"Not Emily?" She murmured, a weak smile climbing up her lips. "That's new."

A throaty chuckle escaped Theodore's mouth, suffocated just enough for it not to leave the kitchen and break against the vast corridors of the Institute. "Why?" He asked, raising his brows at the girl. "Do you miss it? Because, if you do, I assure you I can go back toー"

"No, no," Emma cut him off, her left hand effortlessly drawing patterns through the air. "No need. Emma is perfectly fine."

"Very well, then," the boy nodded to himself. "Emma," he tasted the name on his lips. "Why are you in the kitchen, all alone when everyone else is sleeping?"

"Funny." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "I could ask you the same thing."

"And I would have told you that I was checking on Diego and Cristina. In case you were wondering, your friend is perfectly fine." Theo replied, elbows leaning against the counter. "I believe that it is your turn now."

Emma nodded silently, losing the wish to think of witty remarks. The truth was, she was tired. Exhausted, even. The burdens of recent events have piled up upon her shoulders, tearing her to the ground. The topic of her parents' deaths kept on reappearing, the thoughts of Zoya and herself nearly dying simply didn't have the end. There was also the fact that Julian had lied to them for years, but it didn't disturb her as much as she thought it would. Deep down, she had known something was going on. Now, she just had the clarification.

"I couldn't sleep," she confessed, suddenly unafraid. "That's all."

Theodore chuckled again. "You're lying," he said. "But I get it, you do not trust me enough to tell me."

Emma turned toward the boy, lips parted. "How in the world do you know that I am lying?" She questioned. "Besides, can you blame me? I barely know you. Why would I share my life story with you?"

The corners of Theodore's full lips curved up. "Your forehead creases when you do," he replied promptly. "When you lie, I mean."

"No, it doesn't," Emma shook her head in disagreement.

"Fair enough. I was lying," Theodore replied, shoulders shamelessly shrugging. "But nobody sits alone in these ungodly hours unless something's bothering them."

Emma snorted. "How would you know that? Have you experienced it, as well? When you abandoned Zoya all those years ago?"

She knew her words were uncalled for, but the truth was, Emma had just wanted to be alone. She wanted her mind to be clear and steady and to achieve that, she needed to spend some time in silence. Nevertheless, it didn't take her long to realize just how hurtful her words have been.

"Look, I'm sorry," she quickly began, noticing the way Theodore's pupils dilated. A distant flash of hurt travelled through them, almost as if an old wound was opened. "I shouldn't have said that."

The dark-haired boy shook his head, slipping out from his chair. "It's alright, Emma," he spoke slowly. "You have full permission to use that against me. I have made a grave mistake by abandoning Zoya ー I am well aware of that. You might not have all the reasons behind my decision, but you are entirely right."

"Still," Emma shook her head. "I shouldn't have said it. It was rude of me."

Theodore laughed, but even the blonde girl noticed the difference between the low sound and his previous chuckles of amusement. He was trying to mask his hurt with false smiles. "Don't go soft on me, Emma," he continued, stealing a glance toward the door. "I don't want the fierce girl I met at the Midnight Theater to disappear."

Emma blinked, confused.

"My mistakes may have hurt Zoya," Theodore confessed, meeting Emma's gaze. "But it had also brought her something good. She has you and, by the looks of it, Julian Blackthorn."

"Julian?" The blonde girl repeated, stunned that Theodore had been able to connect the two of them. "What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about the way Julian kept on eagerly burning holes into my skull," he retorted. "Seriously, I have no doubt he was ready to murder me and Diego. Besides, don't tell me you didn't notice the way they held each other's hands."

Emma's lips parted ways. She was stunned that the boy had noticed so much about them ー especially when she was the one who missed it.

"Perhaps you want to talk to Zoya about it," Theodore chuckled. "I should be heading out now."

"Out?"

The bronze-skinned boy nodded. "Yes, Emma," he said. "Out. I know that the cave will not be open, but Diego and I are going to the convergence site to see it for ourselves. The demons should have disbanded by now. We want to take another look around the area, see if there is anything you missed."

"Wow, honored to have your trust," Emma replied bitterly, swaying her hand through the air. "Fine. Go ahead. See what we all missed while we were nearly being cut to pieces by giant grasshopper demons."

"Mantids aren't technically grasshoppersー"

Emma glared at the boy. "Shut it, Theodore," she bit back. "I don't want to hear it. Besides, shouldn't you be going?"

Theodore met her hazel gaze, smiling at her. It was a wild, childish grin and, for some reason, it made Emma's heart dance.

"So eager to get rid of me," Theo whispered, walking toward the door and glancing over his shoulder. "I'll be off and you try to rest. Even the bravest and fiercest of warriors need sleep, Emma."

⋆ ✧ ⋆

Zoya always thought that her heart wouldn't be captured easily. She believed that small talks would be just the beginning of the long road to love, that shared dreams would create an insurmountable fissure in between her and her loved one and that deepest fears would scare the one she liked away.

And yet, despite all of her terrifying thoughts, Julian Blackthorn had somehow managed to prove her wrong. For as he sat on stairs of the Institute, holding the raven-haired girl against his chest and safely in his arms, Zoya was proven that her heart was stolen by the boy a long time ago.

His fingers traced invisible patterns upon her skin, his heart hammering wildly against her spine. The pair had stared into the distance, watching as the horizon was being painted a breathless golden.

For hours, they had sat embraced, observing as the vanishing stars smiled at them. Their pulses rose like the crashing waves of the ruthless sea, but neither said anything. They allowed silence to wrap its cloak around them, finding refuge in each other's closeness.

"You want me to talk," Julian whispered close to her ear, the heat of his breath making hair rise upon her skin. "Don't you?"

Zoya's chest moved evenly, her heart encouraging her to lace her fingers with the boy who held her. "It's a reasonable thing to do," she said, gaze still set on the horizon. "But I don't want to push you, Jules."

"I know," he said, squeezing her hand. Silently, the boy was thanking her for being patient with him. "I think I had hoped that it would never come to this ー that you would never find out about the secrets I've been keeping. Or at least not until we became older."

Zoya chuckled, adjusting her position and turning to meet Julian's gaze. His face was touched by the first rays of dawn, blue-green eyes blazing with newfound life. "All the secrets meet the daylight, eventually."

"I think I've seen it for myself," he replied, a weak smile tugging at his lips. Brokenness blended into tiredness, painting dark moons under Julian's flickering eyes. "You have to believe me that I hated keeping secrets from you. There were so many times when I wished to tell you. . ."

"Why didn't you, then?" Zoya shook her head. "You had your chances, Jules. All those nights we spent in each other's rooms, you listened to me pouring out my problems. Have you honestly never thought that you could do the same with me?"

"Zo," Julian whispered, as if every word had added a blow to his stomach. "It wasn't that."

The Caldwell girl had known that the reasons behind his actions would never be entirely presented to her. She wasn't sure Julian knew all of them, but she was certain that she didn't want to become a person who would hold Julian accountable for everything that he had done. She didn't want to place the blame on him for keeping secrets, mostly because she had understood that everything Julian had ever done was to keep his family together. Every step of his was carefully calculated, to the tiniest possible detail. All because he had wished happiness for his brothers and sisters.

For that, Zoya would never blame him. She would never paint him a villain when he was just trying to hold his world together.

"I don't want you to look at me and see a liar," Julian suddenly spoke.

Zoya's entire frame froze, making her jump to her feet. Her eyes were wide, her skin washed in a wave of cold sweat. "What are you saying, Julian?"

"What I did, I did for entirely selfish reasons," he confessed, pushing himself off the ground and coming to stand opposite Zoya. With a shallow breath escaping his lungs, Julian met Zoya's gaze. "Everything in my life was crumbling, slipping away from me no matter how close I tried to keep it. Everything but you. You were the only one who always stayed, the only constant in my life. When I needed you, you were there ー almost like you could feel that I was falling apart. You were the only good in the world of bad things, Zo."

"No," Zoya cut him off, shaking her head fiercely. Her heart wanted to find a hole in her chest, big enough for it to escape. "That's not the truth and you know it. You had your family. You always had themー"

"Of course I had them," he said. "Don't get me wrong, Zoya. I love them with all of my heart, but my whole life has been centered around looking out for them. I have never complained ー I promised to myself I wouldn't ー but sometimes, I needed the comfort. It was then that you had stepped in, without even realizing. You were the one who looked after me."

"And yet I didn't succeed in noticing that something was wrong." Zoya's voice broke. Her aquamarine gaze dulled, as if incapable of withstanding the intensity of Julian's irises. "What if that's proof that I have let you down instead of lifted you up?"

There was a raging fire in Julian's eyes, one that made him a silver star among the burning flickers of thousand suns.

In a matter of moments, the Blackthorn boy had erased the distance that separated him from Zoya, tangling his fingers in between the soft locks of black and tilting his forehead against the girl's. "Don't you dare say that," he uttered, desperately struggling to keep his voice steady even when there was a lining of anger woven into it. "Don't even think about it."

"Jules." Zoya's voice was barely above a whisper. Ice had coursed through her veins, melting under the heat that radiated off Julian's fingertips. "If you never felt comfortable enough around me ー enough to allow me to help you carry the burdens ー howー"

"Stop it, Zoya," he spoke wildly, inhaling the scent of the girl whose body was pressed to his. "None of this is your fault, don't you see?" His eyes opened, meeting Zoya's after a brief pause. "When I left for England, I gave you a picture. Do you remember what I wrote upon it?"

"'Don't forget me, Z'."

"Exactly," he confirmed, hands slipping from Zoya's hair and travelling down her cheeks. Down her shoulders. Down the sides of her torso and settling on the back of her waist, pulling her in. "I was scared ー frightened ー that I would somehow lose you. I wanted you to think of me, keep me close, because the sole thought of you ending up far away from me drove me insane." He inhaled, as if he couldn't get enough air. "While I was away, I found myself reading through the various books and there was a single phrase that caught my attention ー 'tu me manques'. We would translate it as 'I miss you', but the more accurate meaning is 'You are missing from me'. It describes perfectly what I've been feeling ー like an entire part of me was missing, a crucial part of my soul."

It was a single second when their gazes connected. A single second that felt like a locked infinity; one where Zoya was sure Julian was entirely clueless of the effect he had on her. He didn't understand that whenever she was around him, skin to skin or meters away, she was living a dream. A life that felt like a fairy tale. A life where they didn't have to care about anything else but each other.

"I think I may be unreservedly, irreparably in love with you."

Zoya's heart was an untamable storm, a raging hurricane that threatened to destroy her. She didn't know what made her confess her feelings so bluntly ー it was like she couldn't contain herself. It was like her heart had become one with Julian's, creating a blissful unity. It was like she was staring into an abyss of endless fears, but stepped into it without blinking, without hesitating.

Zoya didn't remember what came after ー only that the wind was blowing, lifting and tousling Julian's brown locks, making his hair a mess in the pale morning light. To her, Julian Blackthorn had looked more beautiful than ever.

And he was kissing her, again.

Slowly and taking his time, Julian allowed his lips to melt against Zoya's. He was careful as he touched her, though his hands were desperate to hold more of her. He was delicate, though his heart begged him not to hold back.

There was something special about kissing Julian; Zoya was sure of it. There was a certain flame that invaded her insides ー like her entire body was touched by white hot fire, like every wall that protected her soul was shattered, forcing her to surrender to the boy who held her.

It was a divine charm ー when Zoya felt Julian smiling into the kiss. It made her heart skip a beat and her fingers knott into the material of his jacket, hoping to bring the boy even closer to her. And when his fingers touched the bare skin of her waist? She lost it. Her lips parted ways, allowing a loud gasp to slip into the air and her head to tilt back. Instinctively, Zoya held onto Julian, swearing that she would have fallen otherwise.

"Zoya, Iー"

But Julian never finished, a penetrating sound of a horn suffocating his words. It was hollow and thunderous, urging Zoya and Julian to separate from each other and glance into the distance.

The road that led toward the highway was painted in orange sunlight, casting a beautiful illumination over the three figures propped on their horses ー black, white and gray.

It wasn't hard ー recognizing them. Kieran's black hair was like a splotch on a blank canvas, all consuming and impossible to miss, and the dark robes Iarlath wore made him stand out like sore thumb against the pale horizon.

But the third figure ー broad-chested and dressed in dark armor made Zoya's breath hitch in her throat. She didn't need any more signs to recognize Gwyn the Hunter ー leader of the Wild Hunt. Just like how she didn't need any more signs to know that he was bringing no good news in their way.

⋆ ✧ ⋆

NOTE:

Writing Julian and Zoya just leaves my chest feeling all kinds of fuzzy; this time it isn't a good fuzzy. Although the scene between them was beautiful and full of emotions (at least to me), can we notice that Julian didn't get his chance to say that he loved Zoya? It kind of is important for the future development of the book, so yeah. Be on the lookout for that :(

Does the development of Zoya and Julian's relationship seem natural to you? I am a bit biased, so I'd really like you to tell me. 

Also, from now on, things are about to get a bit hard and bad. We all know what's coming! We're going to see a lot of pain, but personally, I can't wait for the ultimate confrontation with Malcolm. What about you?