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

eighteen // in sunshine or in shadow

They installed Christopher in the room he'd chosen to share with Pluto. He wasn't quite wrecked up enough anymore to need to stay in the Infirmary, and he insisted they save the beds for those who might.

"You still haven't told me what happened," said Anna, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Christopher had curled onto his side beneath the covers; he was staring at the wall, but Pluto knew he was listening too.

Pluto sighed. "When I was in the goblin caves, cleansing the magic out of their soil, I had a premonition of Christopher's death. In the Sanctuary courtyard there. I . . . signed a contract with Bryn. To keep him alive."

"You didn't."

"I did."

"When?"

"We'd been talking about it for some days already but . . . it was when Moira attacked me, while all of you were out going after Tatiana the night of the ball. I still had to go to Highgate and I needed more strength." Pluto shrugged. "She's not an angel or anything, but she has just enough power to help."

Anna nodded slowly. She got to her feet. "Well," she said. "I don't know what to say. I suppose that, if I had seen a vision like that, I might do something like that too." She reached out and laid a gentle hand on Pluto's shoulder for a moment, and then she was gone, leaving them alone with Christopher, the door clicking shut behind her.

"The trouble was," Pluto continued, "I had to . . . cross the bridge, so to speak. I had to choose what I wanted to be. When I chose Bryn, I chose to not be a Shadowhunter. So . . . there's that."

"I put a rune on your hand," Christopher said, eyebrows pulling together in confusion, "at Highgate."

"It still took." Pluto crouched down so they could meet his eyes. "They'll still do that. The Institute's doors will still open for me. But when this is all done, I walk away from all of this."

"And what about me?"

"That's up to you," said Pluto. "I'll still be in London, at Castle. You just won't be seeing me on patrols or at Enclave events or in training rooms anymore."

"But they're not throwing you out."

"No. From what I've heard, at least from Will and Tessa, it's more like if I'd turned into a werewolf or a vampire. You'll still be able to see me. But I'll have to turn in my stele and I won't be one of you anymore." Pluto rocked on their feet. "I think that's how I'd like it to be. I love you. I still want to be around. I still want to fight, in my own limited way. But I wasn't made for battle. I can't do the Shadowhunter thing anymore."

"So then what will you do?"

"I don't know. I . . . truly don't know. I put all of my time and all of my effort into this one little short-term goal: save you from dying. Now I've done that. The scene from my vision is past, I can feel that it's over. And now . . . it's like Inigo Montoya when he killed the six-fingered man, and he realized he'd been in the business of revenge so long he didn't know any other business."

"Maybe you could start that detective's firm you kept joking about. What was it called again?"

"Sleuthing and Sympathy? You know, I guess I could. Get lettering for the transom over the door to my flat and little business cards."

"In the meantime," said Christopher, "you should talk to Bryn. And—and Grace. She looked absolutely awful when she came here, she needs more seeing-to . . ."

Pluto nodded and got to their feet. "I'll see what I can do." They opened the door and found they needed to go no further. Standing there, stunned and staggering, was Grace.