a cross in the void // christopher lightwood {4}

fourteen // a first expression (of something unnameable)

They met up with the Chiswick search party in the Institute's chapel. Christopher explained the trip to Hypatia's shop and passed over the coin-shaped silver brooch he'd bought. "It seems there are loads of these," he said. "Protective amulets against Lilith specifically. Even mundanes used to wear them, and Shadowhunters did before the protection rituals were invented. It has the names of the three angels who oppose Lilith etched on it, the ones who blessed James's gun. Sanvi, Sansanvi, and Semangelaf." He traced the Hebrew letters with his fingers before handing the amulet to Cordelia. "It won't make you not a paladin anymore, but it may discourage Lilith from approaching you."

"Now all we have to do is convince her to see Rocky IV," said Pluto, "and we'll be set."

"To see what now?" Cordelia asked.

Pluto waved her off. "Nevermind." It was a pointless exercise anyway. They didn't even have any of the Rocky movies.

"Rocky Four?" Christopher asked on the way home.

"Rocky," said Pluto. "Okay. It's a series of movies about boxing. There's this guy named Rocky and his actor apparently thinks he looks good in makeup that makes him look like he's been punched in the face."

Christopher grimaced.

"Yeah," said Pluto. "They do have an awesome soundtrack, though. Hey—would you like to join us for dinner? At Castle?"

Christopher shrugged. "Sure. Since we're on our way there anyhow and I should eat."

"You're becoming kind of a fixture there," Pluto said. "I'd suggest you just move in but I don't think there's enough space."

"That might be a problem, yes. I don't know how Saoirse would feel about putting in a laboratory."

"Yeah. Considering one of your passions seems to be fireworks, probably not. She's trying to provide a safe space for anyone who needs it, remember?"

"I do. I think what she's doing is noble. I just wish I knew of a good way to help her get it more . . . off the ground."

"She's had help here and there. Lillian Tilly, actually. In fact, the entire staff of the Foreign Reporter. Maren Buchanan tried. But from what I hear she's had to step back to focus more on her clan and abandon some of the other things." Pluto pushed open Castle's red front door and they spilled into the tiled entryway, stomping slush off boots and ditching hats and scarves and coats. Pluto left their fingerless lace gloves on, for sensory reasons more than anything else.

"When are you going to marry that boy?" Saoirse asked, emerging from the dining room. "He's always here."

"When I get over my dislike of ritual," said Pluto. "How's Bryn?"

"I'm here," Bryn called from the dining room. "Today's lesson in Not Being A Monarch Anymore involved the heater going out for five minutes. I don't trust it anymore and I'm taking a shawl with me everywhere I go." She waved past Pluto as they stepped into the dining room. "Hello, Christopher. How are you?"

"Confused," said Christopher. "Very confused."

< & >

"You know," said Pluto, "Saoirse's not the first person to ask us about marriage." They'd retreated upstairs with Christopher after dinner, and they sat on the kitchenette counter with a jar of tea, absently kicking the cabinets beneath them now and again.

"You've spoken of your dislike of ritual before," Christopher said, "I think."

"Yeah. I'd offer in a heartbeat if I didn't have to deal with the ceremony and everything but I think that might be more than I can stand."