✓ | Hushed Whispers ⋆ Will Herondale [2]

CHAPTER TWENTY: IMPRISONED

◤Every doing has its undoing.◢

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CHAPTER TWENTY: IMPRISONED

THAT night, after the most laborious sights Marie had glanced upon in a while, the brunette girl couldn't even fathom closing her eyes and trying to catch a few hours of much needed sleep.

As she lay in her cold bed sheets, Marie felt the goosebumps of unpleasantness crawling up and down her arms. The Wayland girl knew such a reaction wasn't only because of the gruesome spoils she had witnessed, but also a warning her mind tried to send her.

Her restless thoughts kept going in circles, repeating the familiar facts and never quite reaching the desired answer. Perhaps it was something about the York Institute that didn't let the girl rest. The old building nested in a church was nothing like the London Institute.

The York Institute contained speckles of dark time within its gray walls. With all its narrow, light-deprived stairways made of monotonous stones and creaky wood pieces, the home of Aloysius Starkweather reminded Marie quite a lot of Mrs. Dark and Mrs. Black's house. Disturbed mind and a breath of horror came along with it.

The hallways were decorated in a number of dusty drapes, depicting various scenes of Shadowhunter history. There were also endless portraits of Starkweather family, reminding her that the Institute had been in their hands for as long as her mind could think of. It was a true shame that such marvelous art pieces were left to rot under the cruel hand of passing time.

Pulling Marie out of her thoughts was the rattling of the metal doorknob of her door. Loud and not afraid to disturb, it ceased as soon as the door cracked open and let her intruder in.

Grabbing a blade that rested on her nightstand, Marie rapidly jumped out of her bed. Her heart began pounding hard against ribcage as she glanced at the shadow that closed the only way out of her room.

It belonged to a man; his tall frame and long, curly hair were distinguishable enough in the darkness.

"Who are you?" Marie's voice echoed against the stone walls as she directed the tip of her weapon toward the man.

He lifted his hands up, silent as he turned around to face her. "Please. There is no need for weapons, Miss."

"I think I'll decide on that one. Now, step before the window and to where I can see you," Marie motioned with her blade. Her hazel eyes struggled in following the quick stride of the tall man, silently cursing herself for not drawing a Night vision rune. Her eyes needed more time to adjust than they usually would.

A loud gasp escaped Marie's thin lips as she examined the boy washed in milky moonlight. Contrary to what she had anticipated, the boy didn't belong to the servants of Aloysius' she had seen serving the dinner. In fact, prior to then, Marie had never met him.

If the girl was to trust her loose estimation, the boy was around her age. With piercing blue eyes and dirty golden locks that fell into his eyes, the boy stood lanky, almost malnourished before Marie. An apologetic gaze left his marvelous eyes as a single, black Shadowhunter rune peaked above the collar of the boy's dusty, linen shirt.

"Who are you?" Marie's voice was soft, but her weapon unwavering in her palm.

"Miss, please," he lifted his arms a little higher. His eyes were tender, almost scared; perhaps he hadn't expected to encounter anyone. "I assure you that I am no threat to you. Or to anyone, for that matter."