fallen hero | matthew fairchild

chapter 07 | poison

The sway of the wind rustled Hero's curly dark hair.

Central Park was busy on Saturday afternoons. People leaped at the chance of a stroll through the park when the weather was just perfect.

Carriages were being pulled alongside her, the horses neighing as they passed by, their steps echoing across the park. In front and behind them walked other pedestrians, enjoying the ambiance.

The sun was high in the sky, accompanied by the sight of a stunning blue sky. The trees lining the large pathway were lush and green, a perfect home for the birds to make their music.

Hero was wearing one of the many dresses John had supplied her with. It was made of a dark midnight fabric that matched perfectly with her eyes. The dress was an array of blues, even around her waist there was a paler ribbon matching ruffles that made up the skirt of her dress.

A top of her head sat a flat hat, covering her mess of dark curls. And at her arm was John, walking along to whatever beat suited him.

After breakfast, John offered to take Hero on a walk through Central Park.

"You will be a true New Yorker," he said, his bright blonde hair matching his beautiful white smile.

Now, John was humming a happy tune. "I sure do love Central Park," he grinned. "I have lived here for my whole life, but I will never tire of the sight of this park."

Hero looked around, they were walking down a stone path, but stationed to their left was a line of carriages waiting to offer tourists a ride through the city.

The absurd amount of horses left a hideous stench that made Hero tear up every time she breathed through her nostrils.

But, at least the view was lovely.

"Is there anything else to do in this city other than sauntering through the park and risking your life in pursuit of demons?" she asked.

"Well, if you were a mundane all you would be doing is sauntering through the park and risking your life most likely from being a moron," said John.

"So, all there is to shadowhunter's life is... fighting?" Hero questioned.

The thought sounded exhausting.

How was she expected to fight as an old grandmother? She winced at the thought of creaky knees and random spasms in her back.

Well, that is if the life of a shadowhunter didn't kill her before she got to that age.

John shrugged. "What's the issue with that? We stay fit from all the fighting. I doubt my behind would be this round if I were a mundane."

Hero didn't laugh at that. She just watched as a little boy ran ahead of his mother and father, a kite in his hand.

"Look darling," said John, sending a terrible chill down her spine that she also ignored. "If you came with me to discuss the existence of humankind, you made the wrong choice."

Hero concurred with his statement.

"Besides," John said, leaning in a bit closer, "I'd much prefer to gossip."

Hero looked into his sky-blue eyes and saw the spark of mischief dance around the blackness of his pupil.

"I'm afraid I don't know enough people to be much of a gossip."

John waved her concern away. "Nonsense! You know everyone staying over at the institute. Tell me your opinions of Virginia and Estella."

Hero gave him a good hard look. "Are you going to tell them what I say about them?"