~Magic, love and betrayal~
Lisa Cartwright's mundane life, as a demon-killing shadowhunter, was shaken at its foundations by a series of mysterious murders. As she starts her quest, determined to find the cause of these assassinations, she finds th...
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"Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past." -George Orwell
Lisa let out a frustrated sigh. From the moment they fled the ball, they had run to Moira's apartment with the book. The sorceress sat in her purple pajamas, bent over the Fairy book and a copy of the text on the scepter, she bit her lip. With her hands in her hair, one finger twisted around a blonde lock. She and Jonathan had been standing there for an hour, motionless, staring at her.
It may have been her shadowhunter's instinct, but she could feel Jonathan's gaze piercing her back. For the umpteenth time she shivered, it was a cool winter night and the wafer-thin fabric of her dress didn't bring much warmth.
"Did you find anything yet?" she asked hesitantly. Of course, Moira had nothing yet, the fairy language was very complex, with a trillion different dialects. She wanted to go back to the Institute, to Anna and Thomas.
The thought of Thomas upset Lisa for a moment. Should she tell him she kissed Jonathan? No, why would she? Lisa was the best at keeping secrets, or so she thought of herself.
Moira shook her head brusquely, still focused on the strange symbols of the text. Her graceful hand moved a pen across the paper as she took quick notes.
When Jonathan broke the tensed silence with a cough, Moira put the pen down and turned.
"You children must rest, I can do this alone," she whispered, "you are not of much help." The shadowhunters nodded in relief and walked out of the room together. They both knew that the streets of Antwerp were unsafe at this hour and she had only hidden a simple dagger in her dress. Besides, it wasn't the first time she'd spent the night in this apartment.
They had often came to drink tea with Moira and knew her small but stylish apartment like the back of their hands. Lisa followed Jonathan into the bedroom and closed the door behind them. Alone at last, she thought. Lisa dropped onto the purple-and-white king-size bed, while Jonathan unfolded the guest bed. She heard the squeak as he laid down with his weight on it and then sucked in a big gulp of air.
She hoped he was too tired to talk like her when he opened his mouth anyway. "Lisa, about-"
"If you say one more word about this evening, I'll make good use of this dagger." She conjured the weapon from under her dress and pointed the tip at Jonathan. He closed his eyes, clearly irritated. She wanted to act tough, but she also knew he was right. Talking was the only solution. She dropped the dagger on the mattress and looked sideways at the shadow where Jonathan sat.
"You kissed me back," he said, as emotionless as he could. Though she heard his doubt.
"That's right," she replied in an equally flat tone. And I would do it again.
The next minute, Lisa stared at the shadow that Jonathan was supposed to represent.
"Why?" he whispered as softly as the wind blew outside. Lisa purses her lips, because I love you, by the Angel. She thought about her answer for what seemed like an eternity.
