mirror shards // matthew fairchild {1}

ten // bloodlust

[cw: large battle, blood, demons, disassociation, also Tatiana]

The carriage ride back to Anna's house is insufferable. Cordelia makes Sydney sits next to her instead of with Matthew, who she watches like a hawk as he inspects the blades Hyacinth gave to him. Cordelia does not know that Sydney is already compromised, and she doesn't have to chaperone them both like this. Matthew, meanwhile, is being jealous, refusing to hear about Sydney's conversation with Danna.

Oh, dear, Sydney thinks to herself. I'm turning into my fictional namesake. She still has no idea what possessed her parents to name her after that particular character, but it's been all but a self-fulfilling prophecy.

The carriage rattles to a stop outside Anna's flat and Sydney's hand tightens on the doorknob. Their friends are gathered out on the curb. All of their friends, armed to the teeth and looking worried.

Sydney shoves open the door before the carriage has properly stopped and leaps out, thankful for special Shadowhunter skirts designed not to get in the way.

"What are you doing here?" Matthew asks, jumping out behind her. "Has something happened to Barbara and the others?"

"No," Thomas says. "Nothing like that. But it is urgent. James is in danger."

Sydney's blood runs cold. She's been so distant from her brother and his friends since she's returned, she can't pay for that in blood. She knows she's got her seraph blades and brass knuckles, but it isn't enough. As Lucie fills them in on the situation. Sydney rummages in her purse, shoving aside her knitting project, her notebook, and a textbook on demonology, searching for weapons. She finds a handful of seraph blades and a tiny hand crossbow with bolts. She tosses the weapons out onto the sideboard of the carriage and starts arming herself.

"How on earth did you manage to fit all that," says Matthew, "in there?" He eyes Sydney's small, tooled leather purse suspiciously.

"I dunno." Sydney shrugs. She runs her eyes down the length of Matthew's body. "I suppose I could ask you the same thing."

While Matthew gapes at her, she hands her bag to the coachman. "Would you drop that at the Institute for me, please? Thank you muchly." She turns back to the others. "Really, that bag holds more than it looks like. It's magic." The coach rolls off, and the Shadowhunters sprint the other way.

< & >

Sydney runs. She closes her eyes and forgets the world and runs. Now is not the time for distraction, or fear. There are demons at work. Her brother is in danger.

Put your Ego aside, she tells herself. Put it aside. You're angry, very, very angry. So angry that there is no more room in you for mercy, or fear. Your brother is in danger, and you will kill everything that tries to hurt him, because that's. What. It. Takes.

Hello, there, Id. It's time for a chat.

The roar rushes into Sydney's ears, red fogging her vision, and she sprints into the park full tilt, ripping into the first pack of demons she sees, and then another, and another. Her eyes zero in on Grace, pale, fragile, and quaking at the edge of the lawn and she sprints to cover her, warding off the demons with a snarl and a slashing blade.

She snatches the knife Grace is holding and plunges it into the chest of one monster with a roar, slashing out at another in the next second. She's fighting demons, fighting memories, fighting herself. She keeps it all far away from Grace.

James loves her. It's Sydney's job to make sure she remains unhurt.

"Herondale boy." The demon's hissing voice cuts through the roar in Sydney's ears like a foghorn in the dead of night.