Overwhelmed [3] 《SHADOWHUNTERS》

Chapter Twenty-One

Andina tried her best not to emit a clatter as she snuck her blades from the pile against the red wallpaper of Magnus' front hallway, her soundless rune not the most helpful as she deconstructed the puzzle of metals. The warlock's voice toppled over Alec's from the array of magical instruments at the far end of his living room as he sullenly refuted yet another fragile plan. The gentle rhythm of Clary offering up an idea of her own that Isabelle volunteered to talk her through flooded out of the large opening in the hallway that Andy had just slipped past while narrowly avoiding detection, her heart still thrumming.

The Herondale had excused herself for a bathroom break minutes prior that she was definitely pushing in the terms of timing. She had slipped into Magnus' bedroom immediately and dug through his space as quietly as she could until she found a drawer the warlock had apparently begun throwing every article that the Shadowhunters left behind in his home. She currently scrutinized her appearance in the plain, circular mirror just inside the front door. She had a lighter gear jacket than she would've preferred slack against her form as she didn't want to chance getting caught adjusting it. Her legs were clad with a heavier material that brought better comfort and allotted her easy placement of her weapons. She was tempted to steal one of Clary's clean daggers to fill the notch along the inside of her right leg. The continued conversation from around the corner prompted her to scurry out while she still could.

The heavy door, Andy found, was actually possible to close without a sound if one was excruciatingly patient enough. She jogged across the finished floor until the warehouse underneath was revealed in its industrial, cement glory. Her hands drifted down to the pocket her stele had been stuffed into, where a rag of fabric stuck out, torn from her brother's shirt by her own desperate fingers just days before. She pulled it along with the angelic pen and twirled the stick within her grasp in a flair of anxiety.

She yanked up her right sleeve the best she could, finding covered skin that just aggravated her and she impulsively brought the flickering tip to the palm of her right hand. She carved the swirls of a tracking rune into her skin as her grip clung to the stele and the ragged strip of fabric. She couldn't even pretend she was thinking clearly when she felt the rush of the mark begin to fade and her already full hand decided to take up the handle of her sword, just enough to tilt the blade up and grasp it with her right hand. She went against the instinct of staying still on the sharp edge and tugged her hand up it, wincing as a fresh cut found the air.

She pulled back and turned her palm up to the ceiling, hastily throwing the dirty cloth onto the vulnerable area. She didn't want any blood to hit the floor, or Alec would be after her before she was around the block. She wound the fabric tight and watched with little optimism as the rune stayed in place; slicing one in half usually cancelled the effects, and she had yet to feel the slightest pinch in any direction except that of the deep wound she'd just given herself.

Her foot bounced and she glanced back to the stairway she had come from. Nothing leapt to her chest as it often did when tracking. She closed her eyes, almost prepared to give up, when something struck her that confused her. There was no hint to work through to move her feet towards, no, as she narrowed her eyes at the old front doors of the meant-to-be-empty building. She knew. She glanced to her palm curiously and negligently decided to trust the pulse that cut needles down the tendons in her wrist.

And even though she moved quickly, there was something that slipped her mind completely. Upstairs, in the loft she had left behind, the warlock's brow ticked and he peered off to the door, suddenly deterred from the words he had been sharing with the young Shadowhunters around him. He knew what forces passed his personal wards at all times.

Alec's voice came quickly as he questioned what was wrong, assuming the man had found a lapse in his own judgement mid-sentence and decided it best to halt himself abruptly. Magnus, quite irked at the matter, muttered with a slight shrug to imply he knew nothing further, "Andy decided to leave." It had frankly been an exhaustive task to keep her in one place, and the warlock didn't look forward to chasing her down.