It was a freezing cold morning. Tris had given up on her search for her brother long, long ago. She remembered sinking down against the wall, burying her face in her hands, just thinking about her brother, whether she would ever be able to see him again. She looked up at the buildings that formed New York's skyline and clutched her jacket tighter around herself. It didn't help since it was a thinner material, the breeze easily making its way through the tiniest gaps in between the sewn cloth she used to cover herself.
She took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air that would only be accessible this early in the morning. She hadn't carried a watch around her wrist and her phone was still in the Institute, so she couldn't check the time. But she knew that the sun still hadn't risen. It was probably 2 or 3 in the morning. She exhaled loudly, almost seeing a puff of air release from her mouth. Her own breath, she realized.
Tris reached an abandoned house. She looked around, turning her head to the side, before turning her entire body, taking a full turn just to see if anyone was there. She looked up at the old villa. It was supposedly a white house, but Tris guessed that over the years, the colour faded, or pollution could've ruined it. It was a regular villa, a garage attached to the rectangular house. Beside the garage, there was a small porch with a roof and three steps leading to a singular door that was a dark wood, but the door handle was rusted. The second floor was decorated just with windows and a pretty standard framing work around the windows. There was moss covering majority of the house, which made it feel like the trees were groing over it, but they weren't. Of course they weren't. There was just moss, except over the roof, which was slanted and probably made of sheet metal.
She climbed up the porch steps, the wood squeaking beneath her. She opened the door and lowered her head at the loud creaking of the wooden door. She sighed as she stepped in the house, taking in the surroundings of the empty home. There was a staircase at the far end, towards the right. Beneath the staircase was a door, going to the basement. Tris decided not to walk in there. Next to the staircase was a passage way that might've led to the kitchen and to her left was one door, which she guessed was the bathroom. In front of her, there was a fireplace, staring at her. But there was something wrong about it. It was slightly uneven, making her move towards it.
Once Tris reached it, she ran a hand through the mantel, collecting dust on her fingers. She traced her hand downward to the head of the fireplace. That was where it was uneven. She pushed at it and it opened, like any other door. It led to a staircase that went downward. She debated whether she should go or not. She didn't want to be the one person in horror movies who walk down the basement and encounter spirits. She did go down anyway.
With each creak beneath her, her heart raced faster and faster, beating out of her chest. She had been taking shallow breaths and swallowing hard. She kept on looking at the narrow stone walls before she stopped at a door. She pushed at it a little and the door creaked, and opened a little. She opened it all the way and walked in the room. She tilted her head in confusion.
There was a table, with two chairs on either side, and tarot cards on the wooden table. There were unlit candles on the table and the nearby shelf, which she had just noticed. Exhaling through her nose, the girl walked towards the table and flipped one of the tarot cards. She scanned the card.
Lovers.
In the Lovers card, the man and the woman in the image are being protected and blessed by an angel above. The couple seems secure and happy in their home, which appears to be the Garden of Eden. The fruit tree with the snake behind the woman is a reference to that story, which tells of humanity's fall into temptation and into the realm of flesh and sensuality. The angel depicted here is Raphael, the angel of air--who is of the same element of the zodiac sign that governs this card: Gemini. Air is associated with mental activity, and communication in particular, which is the foundation for healthy relationships. His blessing seems to give this card a sense of balance and harmony, the symbolization of union in a grand and cosmic sense between two opposing forces.
"It's reversed, you see, Tris. Loss of balance, one-sidedness, disharmony."
Tris whirled around, card in hand. She gaped at the person--or was it still a person? Her hands trembled and her vision blurred. "Cristina. . ." She whispered.
The girl in front of her didn't do anything. She just stared. "Cristina," said Tris, clearer.
Nothing.
"Talk, dammit! Cristina!"
Again, nothing.
Tris screamed, loud and clear, as if she was going crazy, and the girl vanished.
She was out of plain sight.
▪▪▪
Tris calmed down a few minutes after returning to the Institute, standing near the entrance doors that towered a few inches above her, tarot card in hand. She had just met her. She didn't say anything. The Lewis girl screamed, too, but that didn't help. Tris bit her lip. Her life was a mess right now. Simon was gone. She could see a dead person. Tyler's father had died.
She heard footsteps approaching her, so she pocketed the tarot card and looked up to see Isabelle and Jace. She forced a small smile. Isabelle engulfed her in a hug, but when she pulled away, she looked angry. "Where were you all night? I--"
"--We," Jace corrected.
"--We were worried sick," Isabelle glared at Jace before looking at Tris. Her gaze not leaving Tris', she told Jace, "Jace, go fetch Clary some water. She must be tired from all the. . .hunting. . .she's done."
Jace glared at the raven haired girl, but walked away, his golden locks illuminating under the light, until he rounded the corner. Isabelle looked at Tris.
"I couldn't find him. . ." Tris' voice wavered. "I tried. . ."
"It's okay, Tris."
"No, no, it isn't," Tris whiper-yelled, eyes watering. "I lost my brother. I'm able to watch a dead person. I--Tyler's father is dead."
Isabelle pulled the girl in a hug, where Tris allowed herself to cry, wrapping her arms around the Lightwood girl. Tris let out a sob, while Isabelle rubbed the back of the brunette girl's head. "You're gonna be okay," Isabelle assured.
"No, I'm not."
Isabelle didn't say anything, but pulled away and wiped the girl's tears with the heel of her hand. "Then you'll move on. We'll find a way. There's always a way."
Tris nodded, still unconvinced. She ran a hand through her hair, letting out a sigh as the pair began walking. Isabelle looped her arm through Tris'. "So, what's going on in the Institute?" Tris asked.
"Well, a forsaken got in through the wards and attacked Alec and Hodge."
"Are they okay?"
"Yeah."
They stopped at the training room, where Jace and Alec were. Alec greeeted Tris, and thankfully, didn't question the puffy eyes. "You all right?" Tris asked Alec.
"I'm fine," Alec sent her a small smile.
"I just spoke to Robert and Maryse," said Jace. "They're being sent back to Idris."
"What?" Isabelle gaped.
"Yeah," Alec nodded.
"Another 'order' from Lydia?" Isabelle asked in a bitter tone.
"Who's Lydia?" Tris asked, confused, as Jace's face also contorted into one of confusion.
"She's in charge of the Institute."
"She's what?"
"Temporarily."
"And now she's convinced the Clave that Mom and Dad aren't doing their job?" Isabelle asked.
"Well, maybe they aren't," Alec scowled. "The Institute was under their control when the Forsaken got in."
"What are you talking about?"
"Mom and Dad were members of the Circle."
"What? They don't have Circle runes," Isabelle exclaimed.
"That's because they made a deal with the Clave prior to the Uprising. In exchange for their cooperation, they were pardoned."
"You're questioning their loyalty?"
"Valentine is back. The Circle is rising. They're under suspicion," said Alec.
"No way. Robert and Maryse took me in," said Jace. "They raised me as one of their own. I know what kind of people they are."
"Are you sure?" Alec quirked a brow. "They lied to us. For years, they've been telling us how to act. That we have to uphold the Lightwood name. Well, they're the ones who tarnished it. They're hypocrites."
The room went quite as a blonde woman with a tight, formal dress walked in. She looked at Jace.
"You must be Jace Wayland," she extended her hand for him to shake. "Lydia Branwell. You're quite the legend back in Idris."
"Don't believe everything you hear," Jace didn't shake her hand.
"Did you tell them?" She asked Alec, who looked at the floor.
"Tell us what?"
"Lydia and I are engaged," Alec announced, looking up. "We're getting married."
▪▪▪
It had been hours since Nick had left the library. He was roaming in the halls of the Institute, the top most floor, which was quiet and barren, not a single Shadowhunter in sight. He remembered the mundane girl he'd met a few days ago. She had dropped her coffee on him, and also helped him get rid of the stain. He also remembered she was crying.
Why was she crying? Nick thought to himself.
He continued walking. The girl--Tris--was stunningly attractive, or at least, he thought so. She had beautiful brown hair and breathtaking blue eyes that would turn dark when there wasn't much light. In the sunlight, her eyes would almost turn into a crystal blue.
He glanced towards the windows, from where the moon still shone on him. It was around three in the morning, still dark outside. He had been up all night reading books on Demonology, just trying to figure out who killed her. The girl whom he loved, the girl who was his. She promised she would be his. But those promises were broken after three years.
Nick sighed, looking forward, but he saw a figure walking--no, stumbling--towards him. From the frame, it was a girl, but as she got closer, he saw it was Tris. Her cheeks were crimson and her neck was red. Her legs wobbled and she looked at Nick. Her eyes that were usually calm and held millions of secrets in them, were wide, thrilled. She finally got to him and tripped, but he quickly caught her by her forearms. She laughed childishly and then he smelled the alcohol from her mouth. He exhaled. "Aren't you too young to be drinking?" He asked, while she smiled.
"Yes. Does it stop me?"
"No," Nick sighed. "Let's get you to your room."
"No," Tris exclaimed, eyes wide. "No, please. . .I don't want to go there."
"Then come to my room and get some sleep."
She didn't say anything, but allowed the boy to help her walk towards his room. Once they got there, the lights were dimmed, only a subtle yellow light was on. Nick layed her down on his bed and turned away to take the couch as his sleeping place for the night, but Tris caught his hand. He turned around to see her and noticed she was crying. He crouched down beside the bed, where her head was, her hand never leaving his. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked in a low, soothing voice.
"Everything," she sniffed. "Make me forget. Please, Nicholas. Make me forget."
Nicholas. No one had called him that in a long did. She did, though. And now, it reminded him of her, because of Tris, how his name rolled off her tongue so easily.
"What can I do for you, then?"
She surprised him, by placing her lips on his. Nick's eyes widened, but shortly after, closed shut as he kissed her back.
She's drunk, he thought to himself, while he placed a hand on her cheek delicately. Why are you doing this? She won't remember in the morning.
Her hand travelled down his neck to his chest, where she drew circles, her lips not leaving his. Nick's hands travelled down to her waist as he got to his knees from the crouching stance.
This is wrong, he said to himself.
He pulled away and said, his voice hoarse, "We shouldn't."
Tris didn't say anything but curled her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him towards her, kissing him again, letting out a muffled moan. Nick couldn't help himself. There was a beauty right in front of him, who was so alluring. His hand slowly slid into her hair as he kissed her back, their lips moving against each others.
Nick pulled away and looked in her eyes, that were slowly growing tired.
"Get some sleep, Tris," he said.
▪▪▪