Overwhelmed [3] 《SHADOWHUNTERS》

Chapter Thirty-Six

Alec Lightwood did not know what he would have done if it weren't for the good will of the very Elite Nephilim that he had once been ready to fight. Liz Longford had volunteered herself – only after obtaining Alec's agreement, which he was genuinely surprised by – to return to the New York Institute and wrangle it back under control. 

The Circle's once-seen-as-haphazardly moves had begun to unravel as reports came in; Institutes had received emergency orders to send their top soldiers to the capitol and the stragglers of the traitorous group had followed out an organized attack on the centers directly after. They took advantage of their newfound Nephilim blood and passed through the wards with ease. Most Institutes were able to keep them at bay from the outside, but for obvious reasons that were left unsaid, the New York Institute had been targeted especially. Documents had been compromised until reinforcements sliced the traitors down. But it wasn't without it's lethality.

Neil Rhozeit had defended the building with his entire being and paid for it with his life – an honorable death for any Shadowhunter, but no consolation to the young daughter he left behind in their care. Nor was it of any reprieve to the Head of the New York Institute, who had faced the man on the wrong side of the battlefield and still could not fill in the pieces in between. Alec hated to share even more casualty, but Andina would not leave to meet him or any other official that he spoke with to understand the vast fire that had taken over their once-controlled world. He was beginning to fear for the lack of sunlight exposure she had received this entire week.

His second in command had grown so pale he swore he saw purple beyond just the bruises that had almost healed upon her laced skin. She looked strange with so few fresh blemishes, stuck to these ghastly chairs – he didn't know how they did not hurt her tailbone beyond the ability to stay seated by this point. Although that may have been due to the various inconceivable poses she took up, thrown across and folded into them however her exhaustion could manage on trips back from the bathroom. She visited her brother less, but the time she spent in there stretched out longer and longer – he wondered if she fell asleep each time he walked in and tried to wait for her, but found her missing and her jacket left out on the waiting room floor.

He sighed as he watched her take in the news of yet another orphaned child. She and Izzy felt like the only sure things he had left – he hadn't seen his parents in days. He knew they were still alive, at least; he could hear their thuds against the stairs and slams of the front and back doors as they avoided each other in the town home whenever they were faced with a moment's rest. At least he could see his sister and... whatever Andina was to him, even if they both couldn't look up most of the time.

The Herondale's eyes didn't seem to focus entirely on anything any longer. It was even hard for her to look upon her brother's face when she sat with him, hearing every drip and tick and click in that room. And here, the clock ticked on just the same, an irritating metronome that prompted intrusive fantasies of snapping through one of the chair's metal legs and spearing it into the glass. She scoffed to herself, unsure of her place anywhere. Alec's mouth stiffened for just a second; he could not follow her thoughts and he had given up on trying.

"They told us to take our time." He tried to spark some conversation again. Another breathy, bitter thing fell in the form of a breath, hot out of Andy's red nose. Another sigh fell out of Alec. They all felt as if someone kept hammering their already shattered hearts. "I was polite about it, but people keep saying that like it's our choice."

Andina actually looked up, into his eyes for the first time in days. They'd gotten past the point of spiteful remarks over each other's pain. They needed to share it if they wanted any chance at escaping this hole. "I feel like I'm a kid again," the words fell from her like an untuned violin being plucked in untrained hands. There was nothing but pain in that childhood she reminisced upon. She tightened her eyes, more so from the pain of un-cleaned grime than tears – her lower back told her she was too dehydrated for more of those, even when her heart clenched in sympathy for the world around her.