✓ | Hushed Whispers ⋆ Will Herondale [2]

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: SEARCHING

◤He fell into it? Hurtled into it is more like. Headlong-crashed into it. Still, there are always some men like that - just one woman for them, and only she will do, or nothing. Quite poetic, don't you think, Miss Wayland?◢

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CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: SEARCHING

AFTER what seemed an eternity of being tucked away in the warm atmosphere of her chambers, with Gabriel Lightwood seated beside her, Marie Wayland decided to allow the boy to fulfil his duties. Her future parabatai departed to give Tessa and Sophie a lesson and Marie chose to stay and keep her head buried in a book.

Contrary to every other time her mind had been set on choosing a literature piece written by a famous author, this time - Marie had opted for Shadowhunter Codex and other useful Nephilim books. The girl had turned page after page, her eyes scanning endless lines on parabatai rituals. She had wanted to find as much information as possible and minimize the negative surprises to the lowest point.

The sun had begun burning faintly on the horizon when Henry and Tessa came to fetch her. With a bright smile on his face, Henry's honey-colored eyes invited Marie to lunch, his hand extended toward the girl.

Marie couldn't refuse him and Tessa, even though she wasn't necessarily hungry. Henry's bubbly and kind aura drew her in, the gentle touch of Tessa's calming Marie's restless nerves.

The three residents of the Institute had entered the room laughing lightly. Unfortunately, their cheerfulness died as soon as they glanced at the empty chair which belonged to Will. Jessamine was there and so were Jem and Charlotte; even an unknown warlock. But no signs of Will Herondale.

"Miss Marie Wayland and Miss Tessa Gray," Charlotte's soft voice reached the ears of the two girls as they took their seats at the table. "This is High Warlock of London, Ragnor Fell. Mr. Fell, Miss Wayland and Miss Gray."

Marie's eyes glided to the unfamiliar man who stood next to Charlotte. Relatively tall in frame, the man glanced at them with a polite smile. Marie almost had to suppress a shriek that formed in her throat, having taken notice of the warlock's greenish-blue complexion. The girl wasn't disgusted, simply surprised to encounter such an unusual complexion. She had never seen it before, but was aware that the color of his skin was his signature warlock mark. It was smooth, glistening under the pale sunlight, almost like the calm ocean surface.

But Ragnor's uniqueness didn't end there. His hair was as white as winter snow, easily outrunning the pale color of Jem's strands. Two small, elegant horns curled from the sides of his forehead.

The warlock nodded politely. "What's on the carpet, then, Charlotte? Did you really call me out here to discuss dark doings on the Yorkshire moors? I was under the impression that nothing of great interest ever happened in Yorkshire. In fact, I was under the impression that there was nothing in Yorkshire except sheep and mining."

"So you never knew of the Shades?" Charlotte inquired curiously. "The warlock population of Britain is not so large..."

"I knew them," Ragnor averted his gaze to the woman. "Shade was a little mad, with his obsession with clockwork and mechanisms. Their death was a shock to Downworld. The ripples of it went through the community, and there was even some discussion of vengeance, though none, I believe, was ever taken."