York,1847.
"I'm afraid," said the little girl sitting on the bed. "Grandfather, can you stay with me?"
Aloysius Starkweather made an impatient noise in the back of his throat as he drew a chair closer to the bedside and seated himself. The impatient noise that his granddaughter was so trusting of him, that often he was the only one who could calm her. His gruff demeanor had never bothered her , despite her delicate nature.
"There's nothing to be afraid of , Adele," he said "You'll see."
She looked at him with large eyes. Normally the ceremony of first runing would have been held in one of the grander spaces of the York institute, but because of Adele's fragile nerves and health, if had been agreed that it could occur in the safety of her bedroom. She was sitting at the edge of her bed, her back strait. Her ceremonial dress was red , with fair hair. Her eyes were huge in her thin face, her arms narrow. Everything about her was as fragile as a china cup.
"The Silent Brother ," she said. "What will they do to me?"
" Give me your arm," He said, and she held out her right arm trustingly. He turned it over, seeing the pale blue tracery of veins below the skin. "They will use their steles- you know what a stele is- to draw a Mark upon you. Usually they start with the Voyance rune, which you will know from studies, but in your case they will begin with Strength."
"Because I am not very strong."
"To build your constitution."
Like beef broth." Adele wrinkled her nose.
He laughed. "hopefully not so unpleasant. You will feel a little sting, so you must be brave and not cry out, because Shadowhunters do not cry out in pain. Then the sting will be gone, and you will feel so much stronger and better. And that will be the end of the crenony, and we will go downstairs and there will be iced cakes to celebrate."
Andele kicked her heels." And a party!"
"Yes, a party and presents." HE tapped his pocket, wher a small box was hidden away- a small box wrapped in fine blue paper, that held an even smaller family ring. " I have one for you right here. You'll get it as soon as the Marking ceremony is over."
"I've never has a f=party for me before."
"It's because you're becoming a Shadowhunter," sad Aloysius. "You know why that's important, don't you? You're first Marks mean you are Nephilim, like me, like you're mother and father. They mean you are part of the clave. Part of our warrior family. Something different and better than anyone else."
"Better than everyone else," she repeated slowly as her bedroom door opened and two silent brother came in. Aloysius saw the flicker of fear in Adele's eyes. She drew hew arm back from his grasp. He frowned- he did not like to see fear In his progeny, though he could not deny that the brothers were eerie in their silence and their peculiar, gliding motions. They moved around to Adele's side of the bed as the door opened again and Adele's mother and father entered: her father, Aloysius's son, in scarlet gear; wife in a red dress that belled out at the and a golden necklace from which hung an enkeli rune. They smiled at their daughter, who gave a tremulous smile back, even as the silent brothers surrounded her.
Adele Lucinda Starkweather. It was the voice of the first silent brother, Brother Cimon. You are now of age. It is time for the first of the angle's marks to be bestowed on you. Are you aware of the honer being done to you, and will you do all in your power to be worthy of it?
Adele nodded obediently. "Yes"
And do you except these marks of the angel , which will be upon your body forever, a reminder of all that you owe to the angel, and of your sacred duty to the world?
She nodded again, obediently. Aloysius's heart swelled with pride. " I do except tem," she said.
Then we begin.A stele flashed forth, held in the Silent brother's long white hand. He took Adele's trembling arm and set the tip of the stele to her skin, and began to draw.
Black lines swirled out from the stele's tip, and Adele stared I wonderment as the symbol for Strength
took shape on the pale inner arm, a delicate design of lines intersecting with each other, crossing her vein, wrapping her arm. Her body tense, her small teeth sunk into her lower lip. Her eyes flashed upward at Aloysius, and he started at what he saw in them.
PAin. It was normal to feel some pain at the bestowing of a mark, but what he saw in Adele's eyes- was agony.
Aloysius jerked upright, sending the chair he had been sitting on skittering away behind him. "Stop!" he cried. but it was too late. The rune was complete. The silent brothers drew back staring. There was blood on the stele . Adle was whimpering, mindful of her grandfather's words admonition that she not cry out- but then her bloody, lacerated skin began to peel back from her the bones, blackening and burneing under the rune as if it were fire, and she could no longer help but throw her head back, and scream, and scream.
****
London, 1873.
"Will?" Charlotte Fairchild eased the door open of the Institute,s training room open. "Will, are you in there?"
a muffled grunt was the only response. The door swung all the way open, revealing the wide, high ceiling room on the other side. Charlotte herself had grown up training here, and she knew every warp of the floorboard's, the ancient target painted on the north wall, the square-paned windows, so old that they were thicker at the bade than the top. In the center of the room stood Will Herondale, a knife held in his right hand.
He turned his head to at Charlotte, and she thought again what an odd child he was- although at twelve he was barely still a child. He was a very pretty boy, with thick dark hair that waved slightly where it touched his collar- wat now with sweat, and pasted to his forehead. His skin had been tanned by country air and sun when he had first come to the institute, though six months of city life had drained the color,causing the red flush across is cheekbones to standout. His eyes were an unusually blue. He would be handsome man one day, if he could do something about the scowl that perpetually twisted his twisted his features.
"What is it, Charlotte?" he snapped. He still with a slight Welsh accent, a roll to his vowels thaat would have been charming if his tone hadn't been so sour. He drew his sleeved across his forehead as she came partway through the door, then paused. "I've been looking for you for hours," she said with some asperity, though asperity had little effect on Will. Not much had an effect on Will when he was in a mood, and he was nearly always in a mood. "Didn't you recall what I told you yesterday, that we were welcome a new arrival to the Institute today."
Oh, I remembered." Will threw the knife, It stuck just outside the circle target, deepening his scowl. I just don't care."
The boy behind Charlotte made a stifled noise. A lough, she would have thought, but certainly he couldn't be laughing? She had been warned the coming to the Institute from Shanghai was not well' but she had still been started when he had stepped from the carriage, pale and swaying like reed in the wind, his curling dark hair streaked with silver as if her were a man in his eighties, not a boy of twelve. His eyes were wide and silver- black, strangely beautiful but haunting in such a delicate face. "Will, you shall be polite," she said now, and drew the out from behind her, ushering him ahead into the room. Don't mind will; he's only moody. Will Herondale, may I introduce you to James Carstairs, of Shanghai Institute."
"Jem," said the boy. "Everyone calls me Jem." He took another step forward into the room, his gaze taking in Will with a friendly curiosity. He spoke without a trace of an accent, to Charlotte's surprise, but then his father was- had been- British. "You can too."
"Well, if everyone calls you that, it's hardly any special favor to , is it?" Will's tone was acid; for someone so young, he was amazingly capable of unpleasantness. "I think you will find, James carstairs, that if you keep to yourself and let me alone, it will be best outcome for the both of us."
Charlotte sighed inwardly. She had so hoped that this boy, the same age as Will, would prove a tool to disarm Will of his anger and his viciousness, but it seemed clear that Will had been speaking the truth when he had told her he did not care if another Shadow hunter boy was coming to the institute. He did not want friends, or want for them. She glanced at Jem, expecting to see him blinking in surprise or hurt, but he was only smiling a little, as if will were a kitten that had tried to bite him." haven't trained since I left Shanghai," he said. "I could use a partner- someone to spar with."
"So could I," said will. "But I need someone who can keep up with me, not some sickly creature that looks as if he's doddering off to the grave. Although I suppose you might be useful for target practice.
Charlotte, knowing what she did about James Carstairs- a fact she had not shared with will- felt a sickly horror come over her. Doddering off to the grave, oh dear lord. What was it her father had said? That Jem was dependent on a drug to live, some kind of medicine that would extend his life but not save it. Oh,Will.
She made as if to move in between the two boys, as if she could protect Jem from Will's cruelty, more awfully accurate in this instance that even he knew- but then she paused.
Jem had not even changed expression . "If by doddering off to my grave you mean dying, then I am," he said. " I have about two years more to live, three if I am lucky, or so they tell me."
Even Will could not hide his shock; his cheeks flushed red. "I..."
