✓ | Curse Breaker ⋆ Julian Blackthorn [1]

xvii. CALDWELL & CARSTAIRS

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: CALDWELL & CARSTAIRS

❛whither thou goest, i will go;

where thou diest, will i die

and there will i be buried.❜

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Julian Blackthorn could still feel Zoya Caldwell's arms circling around his neck. The warm, but concerningly rapid breath still lingered upon his skin, making his hair rise up.

Whatever he tried to do, he couldn't get rid of the vivid image of himself carrying the raven-haired girl; her gear, alongside his own, was stained in blood. The hushed sound of his murmurs spoken into the girl's ears remained; Julian couldn't recall how many times he had begged her not to close her eyes, convincing her that everything would be fine and that she would endure the terrible aching that poisoned her insides, even when he himself wasn't sure of it.

His conversation with Emma was short, but rather effective. Even though the blonde Shadowhunter was more than just distracted by the sight of her injured parabatai, she had ushered Julian into the car and ordered him not to let Zoya lose consciousness for a single second.

So, that was what Julian was doing. He kept on sitting in the backseat, shoulders pressed against the door, holding Zoya Caldwell's frame against his chest. His palm kept on reaching out and tucking the escaped, slightly moistened strands of her hair behind her ear.

Every once in a while she would turn her head away from him - even though he had been persistent in telling her not to do so - and close her teary blue-eyes. She would lick her lips and whisper a quiet 'dad' or 'mom', prolonging the deteriorating clenching of his heart.

Julian couldn't help but feel sorrow for Zoya; whatever poison laced the arrow she was shot with was not hurting her only on a physical level, but mental, as well. The girl seemed to be drifting in between the two words: the real one, where she was bleeding heavily, and the imaginary one, where she was reliving the moments of her parents' deaths. Neither one was desirable, but there wasn't much that could be done.

Whenever he felt her body jerking against his, Julian held her tighter, making sure to tell her that she was not alone. As he spoke those words to her, she would immediately flutter her blue orbs open, offering him a weak smile.

A smile that made him remember that she wasn't the one who was supposed to be enduring the painful battle.

Zoya Caldwell had saved him and Julian Blackthorn had known it. Hadn't it been for the obsidian-haired girl pushing him out of the way, the arrow would have pierced his own flesh. Hadn't she tackled him down, he would have been the one suffering the miserable consequences.