"I need one of us to live, Evelyn, and it isn't going to be me."
Evelyn Doyoung never thought she would bury her family, not entirely at once and not without her lying next to them. Unable to keep away haunting nightmares and visions, Evelyn seeks...
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ENGLAND
magnus bane's london townhouse evelyn doyoung -
Jessamine's offer still played on Evelyn's mind like a morbid parasite, as she waited by the grand staircase in the Institute's equally as grand hallway, even hours later. After Jessamine had decided that their time in the garden was to end, she had taken Evelyn to a completely different room, where she was presented with Jessamine's 'second wardrobe' - the clothes she now didn't want, were gifted to Evelyn as temporary garments, to put it like Jessamine.
Now, she wore one specially selected. Lilac purple, sleeveless, delicately ruffled in gold and purple with ornate flowered embroidery. It looked like something a Renaissance Italian princess would wear. Evelyn wondered where Jessamine would find such a dressmaker.
She checked the time on the large face of a grandfather clock. Five minutes to seven o'clock. The Institute was nearly quiet. Sophie had bought Evelyn a mixture of bread and soup for dinner, though she had little hunger, as all Shadowhunters appeared to be otherwise engaged for a proper meal. She hadn't seen Will since breakfast and she was glad about it, but now she could hear the clash of a blade on wood, and she was very sure it was Will in the training room.
Evelyn quickly got bored of standing up and doing nothing, so she sank onto the large stairs, her dress spilling out in purple cloud beneath her. Her eyes caught on a painting opposite her on the beige wall. It was oil, beautifully chosen colours. It depicted a group of five people: two adults and three children, each no older than twelve.
"Charlotte had it painted."
Evelyn turned, though she recognised the voice. Jem stood before her, leaning against the bannister. He wore a different ivory suit so that he looked like an elegant ghost.
"You've changed," Evelyn said, "Are you trying to impress this warlock?"
She was teasing, smiling as she did so.
"Ah, but are you?" Jem replied as he stepped closer, "You've changed too."
"That is Jessamine's doing. Is this Miss Charlotte?
She pointed at the young woman in the painting, her fingertip inches from the oil paint. Jem was close behind her. He was only a head taller than her and leaned over her shoulder to look.
"Yes," he said, "Like I said, she wanted it painted when I first came here. To make it look like we were a real family."
Evelyn scanned the painting, her eyes raking every detail like a critic. It was delicately brushed, and expensive-looking too.
