Matthew Fairchild had been in New York City for a few hours, and he was already fighting demons.
He had been exploring the city, strolling across Central Park when the nasty inmortui demon had spotted him.
Matthew sighed, "My work never ceases," he muttered as the demon sprang towards him.
Inmortui demons were disturbingly human-like. They were shaped very similarly to human bodies and fought like undead people.
Matthew rolled out of the way before the demon could catch him. He tried not to grimace at the grass stains forming on his freshly pressed trousers.
Quickly, he unleashed a seraph blade. "Gabriel." The blade glimmered at the activation.
The demons rushed towards him, releasing disturbing noises of groans. Matthew shot out his dagger in an attempt to stab the demon, but it quickly moved out of the way.
In the blink of an eye, he could feel a shooting pain across the back of his right calf.
He whirled around and saw the inmortui demon watching him.
Except, it wasn't alone.
"You've got to be kidding me," said Matthew as he beheld the sight of two more inmortui demons.
Matthew didn't think as he slashed his blade at the demons. He took one down, but rapidly the other two demons replaced their brother.
When one got too close to him, he suckered-punched it straight in the face. He then used the force of his punch to plunge his seraph blade into the stomach of the other demon. Ichor splattered on his sleeve, staining it black.
Matthew backed up, breathing hard.
Then he heard the faint rustling behind him.
High off the scent of battle, Matthew twirled around to the sight of three more inmortui demons. He didn't have a second to make another exasperated comment before they were upon him.
They were a blur, running towards him with a speed that startled him. He barely registered the pain as one demon's teeth latched onto his shoulder.
I have survived literal Hell and back, Matthew thought through the pain, and just one night in America and I'm dead.
Matthew was sure the demons were going to tear him limb for limb when suddenly the noise of hungry demons was overpowered by a shrill shriek.
The demons were next to him, and then in a matter of moments, they were scrambling away. Matthew blinked as he watched them disappear into the night.
The only time he had seen demons run that fast was from James and Cordelia.
The mere thought of them sent a chord of melancholy down his spine. He had been gone for barely any time at all and he was already plagued with the feeling of emptiness. An emptiness that could only be filled by his friends.
Matthew huffed a deep breath and turned his head to see what could make a demon run.
To his immense surprise, it wasn't a warlock or any kind of downworlder, but rather, a shadowhunter girl.
He blinked at the sight of her.
She was... stunning.
The girl wasn't very tall and had a fairly slim figure. Her dress seemed to be a light shade of blue, but he couldn't tell with all of the dirt that had accumulated on the fabric. Her skin was a light shade of brown and her dark hair was akin to a lion's mane, thick and framed the heart shape of her face.
Her brown hair was curly in a way that was different than Lucy's or Cordelia's. They weren't simply just curls, but spirals of locks. If you were to run your fingers through it, they would get trapped.
In the night, he couldn't make out the color of her eyes, but they were dark and wide with surprise.
Each of her features was simple, yet all together they made a portrait of a gorgeous young woman.
If America has more girls like this, Matthew thought, I will perhaps need to extend my visit.
★
Hero knew that the pretty man standing in front of her had caused death.
He was a beautiful man. Pistol was handsome with all of his stern father-like behavior, but this man was beautiful.
His hair, even in the night, shimmered gold. And his face looked as if it had been carved out of stone, all sharp edges and perfect symmetry. Even his lips were pink and plump.
Everything about his look was remarkable. Even through his clothes, Hero could discern the muscles of his body. His hair fell into perfect glistening waves and his eyes were clover green.
They shined in a way that Love's never did. She knew the saying, eyes are the window into the soul, was true because Love had the dullest green eyes she had ever seen.
The only odd thing about him was the stark red mark shaped like a star on the side of his right wrist. It was like a burn that never healed.
She wouldn't have spotted it, but his sleeve had shifted up when he had slashed his knife across on demon.
The sight had led to her shriek, alerting the demons that she was there watching.
"What is this, Mr. Love?" she remembered asking while lightly fingering the peculiar thing on his arm. "I thought warlocks only had one demon trait."
Love snatched her hand away from the mark. "There is nothing there," he sneered while gripping her wrist.
However, his displeased expression slowly transformed into a hideous smile.
"That means the experiments are working, darling," Love announced.
"What... what do you mean?" she asked, almost fearful of his response.
"The thing you are seeing. It doesn't really exist. I suppose the marker of death appears to everyone differently," he said thoughtfully.
At that moment, Hero wanted so desperately to move away from Love. "I don't understand."
"If you see someone with this 'mark', you know that their actions have led to the ending of human life." he chuckled. "I am making you a more powerful entity."
She had simply wanted a peaceful night, but of course, she had stumbled onto a scene of demons trying to tear apart this poor shadowhunter.
But now that she got a closer look at the shadowhunter, she realized that she wasn't safe with him either.
He had caused death.
The handsome shadowhunter put his hands on his hips and huffed out a breath of exertion. "My lord." He looked up and stared directly at her. His green eyes were bright like gemstones and they bore into her skin. "You're hurt."
Hero didn't completely register his words until he stepped closer to her. The only thing she did register was the way he spoke. His accent was smooth, less brittle than her own. His accent aurally was like cursive.
She knew that accents changed based on geography, but she was unsure where exactly this golden man was from.
Hero flinched when she realized he had gotten a step too close to her. The nearer he got, the more she thought of his mark.
Hero couldn't even feel the slice on her arm. She barely noticed when one of those creatures tried to bite her, only to gag on the taste of her blood. Everything simply happened too fast.
"Let me help you, Miss..." he said holding out his hand.
Hero didn't fill the silence, but just simply stared at the man in front of her.
He didn't let her quiet discourage him. "I can help you, Miss," he said firmly.
This man didn't act the way she would expect a man who had killed someone before to act. She wasn't sure how a killer would act, but the kindness in his eyes was not a part of the picture in her mind.
Slowly, so slowly it looked as if she was barely moving at all, she placed her hand on his splayed-out one. Her skin was smooth, but the sight of the voyance rune and the red welt marred the image.
She couldn't feel the pain.
The man produced a shimmery stick from his waistcoat. She stiffened again, thinking it was a knife. He didn't tighten his grip, allowing her to calm down in his palm. This allowed her to see that it wasn't a knife, just what seemed to be a ballpoint pen made of a pale stone.
Stele, her mind produced. It was the pen that made the stark black tattoos that helped shadowhunters be stronger.
He brought the stele down to the skin under the wound and began to draw. "This is an iratze rune," he told her.
How can everyone tell I'm a novice shadowhunter? she wondered.
"It's supposed to heal our pains," explained the man. "Of course, not all of our pains," he offered with a cheeky smile.
She was sure he wanted to make her laugh, but she wasn't in much of a laughing mood.
His head was bent over her arm, making his blonde curls fall into his face. When he finished, he stepped back to admire his work.
Quickly enough, he unbuttoned his sleeve and drew the same mark on his arm. She wondered why he had healed her before himself when he was the one who had more injuries.
Hero was astonished at the feeling of pain vanishing. She hadn't noticed the discomfort until it was gone.
It almost made her angry. This simple fix and all of the physical pain she experienced under Love's reign would disappear.
It made her hatred for Love grow a little more.
"My name is Matthew Fairchild," he told her with a dashing smile. "Thank you for saving my life."
Hero didn't respond.
She wasn't sure why, but something didn't allow her tongue to move and form any words. She could thank him, tell him her name, ask him the way back to the institute, but nothing left her lips.
"Do you speak?" he asked, trying to be polite.
Hero sighed and turned around in the direction she came from. What was the point in making conversation when all she wanted was to sleep? Perhaps, escaping the institute was a far more idiotic idea than she had anticipated.
Matthew Fairchild released a noise of confusion at her sudden departure from their very boring conversation.
Despite it being the middle of the night, the city was still bustling with life. She would have to get used to this aspect of the city. Sleeping was going to be much more difficult.
She heard the sound of steps coming from behind her and she turned her head to see Matthew following her.
She couldn't stop her heart from dropping.
Matthew could probably read the fear on her face and raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not trailing you," he reassured her. "I just believe ladies shouldn't walk at night by themselves."
She released the tension in her shoulders and paused. Matthew took this as an invitation and jogged up to join her.
"Are you off to the Institute?" Matthew asked.
Her interest was piqued by his mention of the institute.
"I'm supposed to be arriving tomorrow," he informed her. "You do know that we are going in the wrong direction, right?"
Hero stopped in her tracks and looked at Matthew expectantly.
He nodded and turned them in the correct direction.
The walk was filled with very one-sided conversation. It was obvious that Matthew liked to hear himself speak. He told her that he was from London and he was spending his year abroad in the one place he had yet to be: New York.
Explains the accent, Hero thought.
"I was conflicted between Los Angeles and New York. Los Angeles has Hollywood and all of that sparkle, but New York was the right choice in the end."
She didn't ask why.
"It is difficult to be away from one's family, thank you for asking. My parents are practically nomads, but my friends are all situated in London. But, I truly needed this voyage."
She could see in the distance the tall spires of the institute. In her heart, she felt relief that her trust in both Pistol and Matthew had proven to be correct choices.
"Yes, I was in love with my best friend's wife. I know, I was a fiend of a friend."
Hero was deeply confused as to how he had gotten to this topic.
"And, I thought myself to be in love with his sister before that."
Thankfully, they had finally reached the front gate of the institute. She would have to suffer through Matthew Fairchild's conversation no longer.
She turned so she was facing Matthew.
"We are at your destination, Miss," he said with his hands in his pockets. "Will you at least tell me your name?"
She smiled but simply held her hand out.
Matthew stared at her in confusion for a moment. "So, I will forever just be your damsel in distress and you will be my nameless knight?"
Hero was sure that they would be seeing each other again.
From the amusement in his eyes, he knew the same.
Matthew took her hand and shook it gently.
"Good night, Miss Knight," he offered with his dazzling smile.
Hero slipped through the gate and walked to the trellis that lined the stone walls under her window. Using her minute amount of strength, she pulled herself up to the slightly opened glass that opened up to her room. She pushed it ajar and ungracefully stumbled through the glass.
When Hero turned to look out her window, she had expected Matthew to be gone. But, there he was, silently watching her get inside safely.
Matthew realized he caught her stare, thereupon he raised his hand to wave at her. The movement of his arm made his sleeve slip down slightly.
Even from a distance, she could see the dark red outline on the side of his wrist.
She didn't wave back and shut the curtains.
★