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CHAPTER SEVEN:
❝ Magnus Bane ❞
Esme woke to an unfamiliar room. The mattress under her was harder, which was the first indicator that she wasn't in her own purple-painted room. And so were the walls, white and stripped bare like an exoskeleton. The emptiness reminded her of all the band posters and printed out quotes from books she had stuck against her own wall. It was white, all white with the exception of a wooden wardrobe, the ends of the bed tinted with varnish, and the deep navy throw blanket that covered her legs.
She pushed herself to sit and immediately groaned ─ her vision dizzying as blood rushed to her head. The bed had a small nightstand beside it with a digital clock that declared the time to be 8:10 AM. Thick navy curtains were pulled across the windows, blocking the light, although she could hear the faint, ever-present New York sounds of traffic coming from outside.
Nursing the headache, she didn't register the door open or the whispers exchanged before a shriek rang in a familiar voice. "She's up!" It was Isabelle, unmistakably. Esme blinked profusely to adjust her gaze on the vision of swirling black hair as it sat down at the feet of the bed. From her pale face, she followed Isabelle's gaze towards the doorway where stood Nico.
He looked just as he had in the music room, his skin stretched thin over his bones in white hatred, fingers fisted in white-knuckle contempt. He shot her putrid look before emptying the room, leaving the girls alone. Esme huffed and looked around. She hadn't realized she'd run all the way to the Institute. She'd thought it was any other church, hallowed ground.
"Don't mind him," Isabelle said, throwing her hand towards the doorway with a flair to indicate in Nico's general direction. "He's been like that since they found you." She turned to Isabelle who was perched on the bed, her long jet-black hair pulled half back by a claw clip, falling past her waist. Wearing jeans and a tight red tank top, she looked even sharper and radiant than yesterday.
No shit, Esme thought. He doesn't want me here, half-dead or otherwise. "Who found me?"
"Alec and him," Isabelle continued, lazily examining her nails. "They were leaving for their patrol shift when they found you on the stairs. Alec carried you in while Nico chased the demon. He didn't find it, obviously, or he'd be in a much better mood."
"What was ─ " The door flinging open, cut her off and she forgot what she was saying as a body threw itself at her. Still light-headed, she swayed and gasped at the stabbing pain in her shoulder.
"Esme!" the voice was in her ear. Simon. He pulled back to look at her face and ran his gaze over as if looking for injuries. As the pain in her shoulder subsided to a dull throb, she realized her legs were aching too.
