The Runes Curse

Chapter 2

“Quinn! You’re going to let us help you!” Cecily yelled, abruptly stopping. She made sure Austin had stopped, too. Cecily’s hair was blowing in her face; the breeze was warm, making Quinn feel sweaty and uncomfortable. Like she’d just been in a mosh pit.  “Stop being so stubborn!” Cecily crossed her arms and leaned against a building, but quickly dismissed that and walked over to the two.

Austin looked like he was enjoying having Quinn around, but also worried about her. It was sketched on his face, and his eyes gleamed with worry as Quinn kept randomly shouting facts about different cities.

“I’ll think about it,” Quinn muttered, pulling away from Austin. She pointed a finger at the two of them

“Listen here, friends.”

“No, you can give us your pep-talk after your parents see you.” Cecily supported Quinn and slowly, but progressively, made their way to the Institute’s walkway.

It looked like an abandoned Church to the mundane population; broken windows with plywood nailed to it, and what used to be different shrubs were now a jungle of overgrown bushes that made it hard to get anywhere around the ‘church’. Crows were squawking from different perching posts, threatening to peck anyone that took a step forward. The building itself looked like it hadn’t been touched in over 50 years with its dirty, old, decaying concrete and chunks of concrete missing from the building. Iron-pole fencing was made sure to keep the  mundanes out, too.

Overall, it didn’t look appealing to the human eye.

But to the Nephilim? That was a different story.

Without the Glamour it looked like a safe haven to any Shadowhunter; the building had the angel Raziel in statue form on the entrance, with a fountain of Holy-water spraying into the tiny pool with coins in it. Quinn had always thought it was a great way to get your wish, but looking at it now, she thought differently.

The building had luscious bushes along the iron-pole fencing, with flowers blooming in the mid-night lighting. Some streetlights from across the street were visible, but it was hard to tell for Quinn. The rest of the exterior had a clean, luxury look that the Pope would approve of.

Cecily pressed her palm on the door; the Angelic rune was engraved with the word ‘Institute’ on it. Brass handles were used to open the double-wooden doors, but without a Shadowhunter handprint, it was useless.

The double door gave a creek and open slightly, indicating that Cecily could enter with Quinn and Austin.

A crimson colored carpet was in the doorway, for people to not track dirt inside, and it was the only simple thing about the entry way.

Stairs with the same crimson color carpet was leading up to the second level and beyond, framed pictures of different Shadowhunters were along the walls. One of the framed pictures was of Thomas Tanner, a boy who worked for the Institute back in the late 1800’s, and it was a simple picture, but was proudly hanged. He was the only mundane who’d gotten a picture. The rest were of old, wrinkly Nephilim who’d done different things with their lives. Will Herondale was among the pictures.

Quinn had heard different stories about him, and he peaked her interests. She had always had a type of fetish about Demon pox, too.

The rest of the Institute’s hallways were the same; with the pictures, crimson carpet, black walls, and oak floors.

Cecily led the way toward the Institute’s medical wing, where Quinn’s mom was.

 ☀  ☀  ☀

CECILY

“What’s wrong with her?” Quinn’s mom, Lydia, asked as Cecily dropped Quinn on one of the wing’s beds. Over a dozen beds were in the wing, all of them empty, and they had plush, white pillows along with white sheets.

The room was what you’d expect in an army base, not a Church; curtains were on each bed-side, but they were pulled back, and white walls and posters of different healthy eating habits were in different sections of the room. There was also a large desk and a chair where Lydia was, with different medical equipment.

“She, um, might’ve hit her head,” Cecily said awkwardly, putting her hands behind her back and getting out of the way for Lydia.

“Yeah, you underestimate.”

“Haha, silly me.” Cecily’s voice was squeaky, with a tint of a British accent. She sat in one of the chairs that was by Quinn’s temporary bed.

Lydia bit her lip as Quinn looked up at her, touching her face and making strange comments like, ‘You’re supposed to be my mom?’ And, ‘I think I’d be cooler at 40 than you.’

“She’s going to be okay, not a concussion,” Lydia said slowly, brushing the hair out of Quinn’s face. Lydia turned around and faced Cecily, probably getting ready to lecture her about taking care of Quinn.

Lydia pulled her blonde, graying hair into a low pony. She faced Cecily, giving her a look of her dark brown eyes. Lydia’s facial features smoothed out when she saw the worry on Cecily’s face, no doubt the same as hers.

“Well,” she paused, smoothing down her blue, silk robe, “I just want you to watch out for her.”

“I know, I just…”

“Feel like she’s trying to get hurt?” Cecily’s eyes shot up from where she’d been staring at her feet. Lydia sighed, walking over to the large, white desk and setting some left-over bandages down. “She just wants to act like she can be like us.”

“She is already.”

“You’ll find out sooner or later, might as well be sooner,” Lydia said quietly, looking around to make sure someone wasn’t looking.

“Hey, guys!” Austin suddenly pushed through the wooden doors, carrying some type of tablet. “Did I miss the surgery?”

Great, Cecily thought bitterly.

“There won’t be any surgery.” Lydia smiled, despite the wrinkles around her mouth, she looked like she could be 30.

“Well,” Austin said, plopping down onto one of the chairs next to Quinn’s bed. Quinn was fast asleep, like she should be, and droll slightly poured out of her mouth as she hugged a pillow. Austin looked at her affectionately, brushing some hair out of Quinn’s face.

“Oh, and Cecily?” Cecily trailed her fingers along Quinn’s bed, wishing that she could’ve out-smarted that Hellhound.

“Hmm?” Cecily looked up.

“I know your parents would have probably wanted to tell you this, but,” she looked like she had to pee her pants, “your brother is coming back! He’s going to learn how to run the Institute!”

“W-What?” Cecily stuttered. “But he’s in San Diego!”

“I guess he just wanted to come back,” Lydia said cheerfully, her graying hair swooshing in her pony.