Better Left Unsaid

Drops of blood dripped onto Emma's favorite vintage dress, speckling the yellow velvet with red splotches that looked suspiciously like hearts.

She stepped back, planted her feet shoulder width apart and landed another blow on the punching bag in front of her. Her knuckles were raw and split open from the impact, but she repeated the process without acknowledging the pain.

Emma hadn't bothered to wrap her hands before heading to the training room, just like she hadn't cared to change into gear. Instead she wore a '70s smock dress with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and raised her blood covered fists to strike. Her hair fell out of its braids, sticking to her face and neck. She felt gross. She probably looked even worse. She didn't care.

She swung again.

Each blow eased the tension building inside Emma's chest. Her fists told the story she couldn't bear to speak out loud. The pain was something she understood more than whatever was happening with her heart.

She didn't exactly mean to pull Cameron Ashdown into the backseat of his car and hit a homerun. She swung without thinking of the consequences. Not that she regretted sleeping with Cam. He was a nice enough guy.

Emma lived life at a sprint, not caring if she was running toward the edge of a cliff. As long as it got her closer to avenging her parents' murders, she was ready to jump. Cam was willing to be dragged over the edge with her. That counted for something.

So maybe he was a little boring and a bit of a buzzkill, but he was also kind and caring. And hot.

Don't forget hot.

They spent the previous night scouring Griffith Park following a lead from Johnny Rook, who insisted a brownie was whispering about burning bodies in water. It turned out this particular faerie had an unfortunate incident with a zippo and the Pacific. Another lead in the search for her parents' killer fell through.

Thanks, Rook.
Cameron showed up on the Institute's doorstep tonight with a bouquet of roses. Emma could still hear Livvy's exaggerated sigh when he pulled two roses from the bundle, handing one to her and the other to Dru. When Cam turned around, Liv gave Emma an approving thumbs up before Jules dragged her from the kitchen muttering something about cleaning her room.

Cam took Emma out to help her forget about her failure — and probably to keep her from heading back to the Shadow Market to murder Rook.

They spent the night at Santa Monica Pier, sharing fries at Pier Burger, glamouring their way onto rides at Pacific Park and swindling the swindlers at carnival games to win a giant stuffed llama that now sat in the corner of the training room judging Emma harshly.

Cam did all of that for her.

When they got back to the car, he looked at her with soft brown eyes and red hair that was a little messy but also somehow perfect, and asked if she had a good time. Emma made the decision to jump.

Shadowhunters die young, and, if she was going to die young, she was determined to make the years she had worth it. Emma was here for a good time, not a long time.

Cameron even offered to let Emma stay at his house for the night, though the thought of sleeping under the same roof as Paige Ashdown gave her hives. Plus, the rest of the Ashdowns weren't exactly members of the Emma Carstairs fan club.

Even after refusing his offer, Cam walked her to the door of the Institute, stopping to nod his head toward an upstairs window that definitely had a face peering out of it. Of course Livvy was spying.

"We have an audience," Emma laughed and before she could say more, Cameron's lips were on hers. She loosened her grip on Mr. Llamanade and let him fall to the ground so she could pull Cam deeper into the kiss.