METANOIA ... a.lightwood [1]

↣ Chapter One ↣

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I C E

C O L D 

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Outside, the rain battered against the ground so hard that it jumped back up, harshly hitting the people that passed. It trickled through gutters, down drain pipes, and over roofs. It raced down windows, seeped through the cracks in walls, created puddles on the roads. And yet, no matter how loud and ferocious the rain was being, Christopher Loss slept through it all.

Chris could sleep through anything and everything, whether it be a thunderstorm, a tornado or even a tsunami. Chris just wouldn't wait up. Not that he really wanted to, his dreams were the best part about his life.

His life was filled with darkness and fear, and he felt alone, despite the family that housed and loved him. He spent nights drinking away his troubles, sleeping with Downworlders, and pretending to listen to their problems, when trying to forget his own.

He had just gotten rid of a fae, with blonde hair cropped short, and leaves twirling around her eyes. She had been pretty enough, enough so that Chris had forgotten every single bit of darkness that plagued his mind. And then she had left and he had been alone again. He could hear his adopted family snoring, but he had never felt so alone.

And so he had fallen asleep, clutching the duvet in his hands, tears stinging at his eyes as he tried to will away the dark memories of his past. That was when the rain had started, the dulling sound lulling the warlock to sleep, cheeks still sticky from tears, and throat still aching from trying to keep the sobs quiet.

And then a scream rang through the apartment, shared by the three warlocks.

Chris had shot up, his eyes wide in panic. His head turned, expecting there to be blood, or pain, or even just someone in his room. But he was alone, in the dark, and there was no noise. And then everything seemed to clear and he could hear the rain again, and the whirring of the washing machine, and the clinking of the heater. The heating had been on for an hour or two, and yet Chris felt absolutely freezing.

The hairs on his body stood on edge, and his skin prickled with goosebumps. His stomach felt like ice, as if someone had just plunged snow down his throat into the middle of his body. Even with the duvet wrapped around him tightly, enclosing him in the darkness, he was still freezing. And he couldn't understand it. He thought that maybe he had dreamed about the scream, but it just felt so real.

And then there was a knock at his bedroom door.

Chris pushed himself out of the bed, at the end instead of the side, like he always did. His feet, bare to show the birthmark that looked like Peru on the top of his left foot, touched the wooden floor and a shock of ice crashed through his body. Despite the heating being, the whole apartment was cold. When he opened the door, he noticed his adopted mother standing there, her blue skin and even deeper shade to show the fear that she felt. It turned Chris' insides out, and he wasn't sure how to feel.

"Where's Carrie?" was the first question that tumbled from his mouth. His sister, both of them were adopted by Catarina not that long ago, was a light sleeper, and most sounds woke her. If Chris was to wake in the middle of the night, he would usually find Caroline sitting in the kitchen, waiting for whatever she was making in the microwave to finish.

"She's not in her bed," and Chris now remembered why everything had turned so cold when he heard the scream. Caroline had special powers, unlike most warlocks, and was able to manipulate and control temperature to her liking. Usually, Chris could feel himself getting a lot warmer even if he was walking through the high winds with Caroline. She didn't like being cold.

"Are you cold too?" Catarina nodded, folding her arms over one another to try and conserve whatever heat that she could. They both knew that the drastic decrease in temperature was because of that scream, the scream that must have come from Caroline.

"Do you think that-?" Chris' question was cut off by his adopted mothers nod. She held up her hand, showing the grey hoodie that Caroline liked to wear just before bed, or whenever she got out of bed. It was ripped, as if by claws. Chris felt his blood run cold.

"Who do you think-?"

"The Circle are back," replied Catarina. She held up something else, something much worse. It was a simple piece of paper, but with a bright red circle drawn on it. Chris' first thoughts were of blood, but then he blinked and saw that it was just red crayon. Caroline did like to draw in crayons when she got stressed, had they forced her to draw it or had they drawn it themselves?

"There are no Circle members in Oxford though." That's why the Losses had chosen to move to Oxford, for they thought that they would be safe there. Nobody would find them, and nobody would try to use their magic for bad. They secluded themselves from the friends they had in America, and got used to life in England. And yet, Caroline had been taken, and a very clear message had been left behind.

"Jocelyn Fairchild still lives," Catarina reminded her adopted son. She had moved into his room now, and his door had closed. The heat was flooding through the apartment again, and Chris had taken to sitting back on his bed.

"In New York," argued back Chris, shaking his head at the thought of the dark red hair and the glistening green eyes of the Shadowhunter. "And she's not a Circle member anymore, she left Valentine, with the-" but he cut himself off, looking up at Catarina with wide eyes. "-the cup," and she nodded.

"I don't think Valentine is dead after all."

Chris gulped, his eyes darting around the darkened room. The only light was coming from the orange street lights outside. Informations pieced itself together in his head, and memories sprung forward, forcing him to clench his fists to bottle it all in. The Circle had killed so many of his kind, and so many that he had loved. What would happen now if they were back? Would there be another war? He couldn't deal with the prospects of another Downworlder and Shadowhunter war, it made him sick to the stomach to know that there could be so much pain again.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, not tearing his eyes away from the bird that perched on the window frame outside of his single window. He hadn't put blinds up, and he hated curtains, instead he allowed the natural light of the world to seep through his windows and rest upon him. Sometimes it made him feel calm, and sometimes it made his head spin.

"I think you should go to New York, it's the best place to start," Chris nodded. He would do anything to have his sister back. He wanted her safe, sleeping soundly underneath her bright pink duvet, or eating Pop Tarts at 3.30 am, or even just showering for a whole hour while he tried to watch TV. Chris just wanted to hug his sister one last time. And he would do anything in the entire world to have that.

"Does Magnus still live in New York?" Caterina nodded, she was on her feet, making her way over to her adopted son. He watched her sink down onto the bed beside him. His eyes squeezed shut as her arm moved over his shoulder, pulling her into him. Tears threatened to leave his eyes, but he held them back. Now was not a time to cry, now was a time to stay strong and be on the look out.

For the next week Chris would be portalling to Magnus Bane's loft in Brooklyn, holding one bag, and praying that he would find his sister in the busy city, which already held more secrets than he could account for.