ashes to ashes ➙ simon lewis [1]

vi. LESSONS.

When blackness drowned Bella's vision, she dreamed about her family.

The first face that sprung to mind was her brother's. She dreamed of his bright orange hair, several shades lighter than her own, such a stark contrast against his deep black eyes. Once, she recalled suddenly, Bella had joked that Charles had demon eyes, and their mother had visibly tensed. And then she was thinking of their mother, her mom, her mom and her warm hugs and muted voice as she used to read to Bella, her mom and her waist-length burgundy hair and emerald eyes. 

Another shift, and Bella's stepfather came to mind, Nathaniel Mastrano's pale blond hair and hard-set pale blue eyes and deep lines scattered across his face. She dreamed of burning Nathaniel alive with a flick of her fingers, and that was when she jolted awake.

She shot upright, drawing in harsh breaths. Her surroundings were unfamiliar and panic rose wildly within her chest, fingers tightening on the thin sheets laid across her body. There was a middle-aged man with dark hair streaked with thick gray strands tending to the bed next to hers. He looked over in mild surprise, and Bella began to fumble clumsily to toss the sheets off herself.

"Where am I?" she asked. Her voice cracked and her throat burned from dryness. She looked over, suspiciously eyeing the full glass of water resting at her bedside table. "What happened?"

The man offered her a strained smile. "You are at the Institute. Jace and Clary brought you and the mundane boy back here to heal at our infirmary. Jace informed me that you have connections to Magnus Bane. He has, of course, been informed, but has yet to return my fire message."

Bella peered over the man's frail frame. Sure enough, Simon was curled up on the bed next to hers, watching her with tentative curiosity. A deep flush crept up his cheeks when she met his unwavering gaze but he didn't look away.

Slowly, Bella looked up at the man. She noted the faded eye-shaped rune on the back of his right hand, and narrowed her eyes. Another Shadowhunter. "Who are you?"

"My name is Hodge Starkweather." He leaned over her, as if to check her for any wounds, but Bella recoiled instinctively. Vague amusement flickered across his weary features. Up close, he didn't look much older than thirty-five; certainly not an old man, like she had initially presumed. "I assure you, I am lack . . . enjoyment over this, as well. It has been countless years since a Downworlder has been allowed into the heart of the Institute."

"Sounds like you're just another brat," she snapped. She saw Simon's eyes widened comically. "Don't touch me."

All kindness had evaporated from Hodge's expression. "Very well," he said, and despite his timid tone, suspicions filled Bella's mind. He offered Simon a brisk nod before excusing himself from the infirmary. The large oak door shut solidly behind him.

"Hodge really isn't that bad," Simon said after a moment. "Not as annoying as Jace, anyways."

Bella didn't bother acknowledging that. After spending an extensive period with Clary and Jace, Bella could understand his jealousy. Even if she thought it was a little pointless. "You're alive?" she asked. "Back to normal, then? Not even a rat tail to mark the special memory forever?"

Simon glared. It was less intimidating due to his fractured glasses and the strained cough that rose from his chest. "No tail," he said upon recovering. "Not even any fur. Guess I'll never be a hot anime cat boy, eh?"

"More like rat boy," Bella said dryly. Relief washed over her. The human was still a human. Maybe everything hadn't been in vain, after all. Though, as she tried to recall what precisely had occurred, she drew a blank. The entire night was a blur. Mostly, she could only remember snarls, the sound of ripping flesh, shadows of cockroaches, and flying through the night sky. She reached for the water glass, taking a short, hesitant sip. "I'm guessing it isn't poisoned, then?"