✓ | Hushed Whispers ⋆ Will Herondale [2]

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE: FIERCE

◤Jem Carstairs is anything but pathetic. He is one of the kindest souls in this world. With a heart of gold and respect toward everything that lives and breaths. You - all of you - are pathetic if you think I am going to give up on saving my friend, my family.◢

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CHAPTER TWENTY NINE: FIERCE

WHEN Marie Wayland returned to the interior of the Whitechapel ifrit den to repay Will Herondale's debt, everyone had already been expecting her. So, really, when the cold tip of a dagger was pressed against her throat and she was pulled toward a strong, burly frame of a silver-haired man, she wasn't surprised.

The brunette gritted her teeth tightly, her eyes scanning over the unmoving crowd. Her skin began tearing apart under the pressure of the man's weapon, making Marie allow a mixture of a choke and a yelp escape her mouth.

"Easy, girl," a hushed voice of the man who held her spoke in her ear, guiding her toward the center of the room. The other Downworlders surrounded them, forming an unbreakable circle. They were all standing shoulder to shoulder, making a barrier that was impossible to escape.

Noticing that their plan was moving in a satisfying direction, the man pushed Marie toward the floor. Guided by the momentum of her captivator's push, the girl's knees collided with the wooden tile immediately. Hadn't it been for her gear, she would have probably ended up with bloody knees.

Silently cursing under her breath, Marie lifted herself up to her feet and dusted off the speckles of dirt from her black clothes. She did a full circle, examining the Downworlders that surrounded her. There were far too many of them, she noted. Even if some of them were powerless, they were in a larger number. She would have been dead in several seconds, at best.

Instinctively, her palm reached at her belt, searching for a spare dagger she had always carried along. Her hand was met with an empty space.

"Looking for this, girl?" The same silver-haired man who held her spoke, her sharp dagger firmly positioned in his palm. He chuckled cruelly as he examined the girl.

"We wouldn't have wanted to encounter any unnecessary incident," the warlock woman who guided Tessa, Jem and Marie into the den only minutes ago spoke. A satisfied smirk rested on her face, her bold red nails put on display. "Heavens only know that the Nephilim can be quite ruthless when dealing with our kinds."

The brunette Shadowhunter tilted her head toward the woman. Perhaps she was right; certain Shadowhunters did cause unnecessary trouble among the Downworld, often getting a better outcome when settling the argument. However, Marie wasn't one of them. She liked to believe that she was one of the rare Shadowhunters left to fight for the equality among the species.

"Well," the brunette girl spoke cautiously. "Rest assured that I am not one of those people. I do not seek to damage your status nor do I look for ways to reduce your population. I am not eager to kill you, either. I am simply here to repay the debt of a friend of mine. If you let me do that, you'll never have to see my face again, I assure you."

A few notorious laughters broke against the walls of the dirty den, making goosebumps erupt against Marie's skin.

"We know who you are, girl," an older woman dressed in an emerald green dress spoke. Her skin was the color of dark chocolate, illuminating warmly under the dim light of the lanterns. But contrary to her skin, her hair was colorless. "Consul's daughter. They must pay a lot of money for you."