Valentine's Arrow

24: Monster in the Mirror

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

REBECCA

"Clearly, you didn't think this through." Rebecca looked up from the make-up brush she had been fiddling with. She hadn't even realized it, but she had started to pull out bristles from the brush in her absent-mindedness. Quickly, she stashed the brush in a drawer, hoping Isabelle hadn't noticed.

When Isabelle didn't say anything, Rebecca swiveled around on her stool, turning away from the dressing table mirror to look at her sister. "Did it occur to you that this is the first place they'll look? The Lightwood mansion? Not to mention how Robert will react when he finds out there's a fugitive in his house-"

"Robert?" Isabelle interrupted. "Not 'Dad'?"

Rebecca shrugged. "I don't know, Izzy. I don't know anything anymore."

Isabelle didn't reply. She slid off the bed and walked over to the window, gazing at the demon towers that glowed softly in the distance. "The funeral's over." She rested her hands on the windowsill. "At least, the smoke's stopped rising."

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Rebecca realized that she had forgotten all about the funeral in her excitement at escaping. So many Shadowhunters dead. Gone. "How many..." she couldn't finish the question, but Isabelle didn't need her to.

"A hundred. At the least."

Rebecca was expecting to feel something – maybe a heavy lump of guilt, or some remorse, or something. But what she felt was even worse – it was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just a black, empty pit in her stomach, sucking everything towards it like a black hole. Sucking all her humanity. Maybe she was slowly becoming like Sebastian – a monster without a shred of humanity. How long would it be before she would be incapable of remorse or love? A few days ago, it was not being able to shed tears. Now, it was not being able to feel human.

A stinging sensation in her palm made her look down. Blood oozed in fat red droplets, dripping onto her already blood-stained clothes. A black hairpin was biting into her palm, already slick with blood. She must have picked it up from the dressing table without even realizing it.

She looked up to see Isabelle staring at her.

"Crap," Rebecca muttered. "I'm sorry." She threw the soiled pin into the dustbin.

Isabelle tutted impatiently. "You can be a real idiot sometimes, you know that?" She pulled out a stele from her pocket and stalked over to her sister. "Hold out your hand."

Mutely, Rebecca did as she was told. Isabelle expertly traced on iratze on the back of her hand, and turned it over to inspect the wound as it closed up.

"Your clothes are ruined," she said disapprovingly, sounding remarkably like Maryse. "I'll get you some new ones."

Rebecca couldn't help the small smile that crossed her face.

Isabelle's jeans were rather loose for her at the waist, and the neckline of her t-shirt was alarmingly low. Once upon a time, Rebecca would have refused to wear it, but now, she was relieved to have clean clothes at all. When she slipped out of the bathroom, fully dressed, Clary was in the room saying something to Isabelle, who was standing with her arms crossed and a frown on her face. A young girl was holding Clary's hand. It took Rebecca a moment to recognize her. Emma Carstairs.

"Emma?" Rebecca said in disbelief. "How did you get here?"

"I came in through one of the windows," Emma supplied helpfully. "Like in Peter Pan."