Percy Jackson. A name that many knew. He was a hero to all. But Percy Jackson is not here anymore. Not since Sally Jackson was murdered in her sleep with her husband and unborn child. Not since I read the note beside Sally Jackson's head. Not since...
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"Wards solid now, nothing will get through?"
I slowly turned to Robert Lightwood, "Even our magic has limits. The wards won't hold off that Forsaken attack. And I still need a look at the body," I report as Uncle handles the next ward. He looks to me, confused.
"I thought your Uncle saw to it?"
"I did," Uncle continues for me, "but Noctis is better with specimens and unnatural magic, he is also twice as strong as me." Both Nephilims turned to me in shock as I just shrug. They quickly turn their faces blank. "Our protections will slow down the Forsaken attacks."
"Extra time is priceless," Lightwood senior said absentmindedly. I scoff as Uncle gains a smug expression.
"Say that after you get our bill." As the elder Shadowhunter walks off after a mumble of 'Lydia will take care of that', I meander around, lost in thought. It's only been an hour since Simon was resurrected and Raphael said he would call me soon to report the fledglings condition. I soon found myself in the lab of the Institute and quickly used a potion I had brought for the occasion. I lathered on a lotion onto his Circle rune, Gods knew he'd need it. The lotion would allow me to see the things memory from five minutes before it gained the rune to its last memory. His memories are blurred, unorthodox, but I'm able to make out Valentine giving him Angel blood and runes, excruciating pain, Werewolves, Alec, and Hodge. I then stored the memory/evidence from the Forsaken in a glass veil. As I entered the main floor of the Institute once again, I saw Lydia Brownell, Blondie, and the Lightwood siblings standing in a circle filled with tension. I smell gossip.
"Lydia and I are engaged," that wasn't what I was exactly looking for, but okay.
"We're getting married," no shiitake mushrooms, Sherlock.
"You're not serious," I think they are, Blondie.
"You were supposed to tell them 'no'. It's your life to ruin," no matter how much she hides it, she's still a badas- well, you get what I mean.
"Not sure what to say," do you ever?
"How about 'none of this matters'? We have to stop Valentine."
"Finally, something we agree on," but I thought you were Parabatai . . . supposed to agree on everything . . . no?
As I watch Blondie leave, Miss-boss-a-lot notices me. "Noctis Bane, I've heard of you," she stalks toward me.
"All good things, I hope," I drawled out as I look up to her from my bored, slouched position by the doorway.
"Of course," she says stoically, "The High Warlock of Brooklyn deserves praise." I raise an eyebrow at her then turn to my Uncle's crush.
