Of Ghosts and Angels

Two.

TWO.

It had been a few months since Kit had moved away from the Blackthorn family to Cirenworth Hall with Jem and Tessa. In that time he'd often found himself stood out in the gardens reminiscing about LA, the loud bustle of the streets and the Shadow Market, the early morning chaos of the Blackthorns waking to fill the Institute with noises of happiness and family, the waves crashing down on sea glass covered beaches. He even missed the noise of the seagulls for pity's sake. His life just outside of London with Jem and Tessa was new and strange to him and it had taken him a long while to get used to the fact that the UK wasn't filled with the loud squawk seagulls in the morning and the bright burning sun of LA was replaced with a grey dreariness and thick heavy clouds.

Kit shook his head to rid himself of the memories of the LA Institute and the Blackthorn family. He had not been focused enough already during this training session, the faint bruises on his elbows where he had been caught off-guard with a hit to his legs causing him to hit the ground hard were proof enough. Kit had been determined to start up his Shadowhunter training as soon as possible, all but throwing himself at Jem Carstairs' feet in order to convince the former Silent Brother that they should commence training as soon as possible, determined to prove both to himself and everyone else that he was worthy of the Herondale name bestowed upon him. He had heard the stories of Jace Herondale during the Mortal and Dark War whilst living with the Blackthorns in LA and he had already heard first-hand perspectives of the Clockwork War and William Herondale from Jem and Tessa when they had informed him of his birth right. He knew he had a lot to live up to carry the Herondale name and not disgrace the famous relatives he apparently had.

Not to mention his mother. Tessa and Jem had told him all about the story of Rosemary Herondale and her husband and how she had been born from a lineage of descendants of the First Heir – a child born of the Unseelie and Seelie fairies. A terrifyingly dangerous and blood-filled lineage that Kit himself apparently was born from, a lineage that he neither wanted nor needed. He hadn't known how to react over the revelation when Tessa and Jem had sat him down and told him all about his mother's sacrifice and how she had been forced by their blood to hide him with Johnny Rook where he would be safe, how she had called for Tessa and Jem's help through the heron chain he now wore around his neck but they had arrived too late – his mother having been struck down by the Riders of Mannan sacrificing herself to keep her only child safe and alive in the hopes that he could have lived a happy and full life.

When they had finished with the story he had wanted to scream, to shout, to kick and break things. He had, had a parent who had loved him enough to give him up, for his safety, and he could not even remember her. He couldn't remember the shape of her face, the colour of her eyes but when Tessa had started singing faintly, an old lullaby that Kit remembered but had dismissed years ago as childish dreams and wishes of the mother he wanted, he had broken down crying silently into Tessa's lap. He'd been ashamed of being seen as so weak in that moment, afraid that they would cast him out for not being the hardened warrior that every Shadowhunter he knew was, but Tessa had soothingly carded her fingers gently through his blond locks, not saying anything even when she finished singing which Kit had been grateful for, just allowing the young boy to take the comfort he had needed at the time.

That night however, soon after Jem and Tessa had retired to bed, Kit had been lying awake in his dark room. He felt like a liability with his limited knowledge on how to be a Shadowhunter, his training and even his fairy lineage. His sleep had been disturbed by terrifying nightmares of the Riders of Mannan coming to Cirenworth for him and killing Jem and Tessa and even the Blackthorns before his very eyes, whilst he stood unable to help, unable to protect them. He had planned then to run away, to get as far away from Cirenworth Hall as he could before morning woke Jem and Tessa, silently sneaking around his room without turning on a light as he hurriedly dressed, grabbed his few clothes and belongings, shoving them haphazardly back into his bag before sneaking down the old wooden stairs.

Guilt ate away at him as he had snuck into the library – knowing Jem and Tessa kept many of their valuables in there, things from time long since passed. He had stood still in the dark, not daring to even light up his Witchlight stone as he stood staring at the glass cases, illuminated by a sliver of silver moonlight through the gap in the curtains, his fingers twitching. He had stolen things many times in his life living in LA at the Shadow Market with Johnny Rook but it had never been belongings of people he knew, or even come to care for, they had just been things back then. But these were different. They were part of him, part of his family and Shadowhunter lineage he had thought as he stared at them in the darkness, stepping minutely closer to glass cases lining the shelves.

The sudden loud yowling and hissing noises that followed had startled Kit enough that he fell backwards, crashing into a desk and knocking a large stack of books onto the floor. A large blinding flare of white light has quickly followed as Kit sat up on the wooden flooring, rubbing his elbow as he blinked the spots of colour from the sudden light out of his eyes, glaring as he saw Church the grey Persian cat streak from the room past Jem and Tessa's feet. "Bad cat." Kit hissed, climbing to his feet, avoiding the couple's gazes as he bent to pick the fallen books up off the floor and set them back on the desk. He felt ashamed at having being caught, despite none of the valuables being removed from the glass cases, his cheeks flaring red and Tessa turned the main lights to the library on so they could see him better, he couldn't however take his eyes off the valuables his mind still planning his runaway despite having been caught and the knowledge that Jem and Tessa would most likely not want him around anymore and would kick him to the streets. They had not said a word as Jem had stepped over to check his elbow for any major injuries from its impact with the desk and floor before Tessa suggested they return to bed and talk in the morning.

When Kit had awoken that next morning with the sun shining in his eyes through the open curtains of his bedroom, still fully dressed with his back still packed at the end of the bed with his shoes beside them he had wanted nothing more than to curl back into a ball, yank the blankets over his head and forget that the events of last night had ever happened. However, the sunlight glinting off a piece of metal, drew his attention to a small table which hadn't been in his room when he had returned last night and he hurriedly climbed out of bed and moved over to it, his curiosity overriding his wishes to hide in shame. On the desk, laid out neatly had been all of Jem and Tessa's valuables, the Herondale knife they'd shown him which had belonged to William, Tessa's jade necklace which Jem had given to her, things from Will and Tessa's children and next to all of them in the middle of the circle of the valuables was a small note addressed directly to him in Tessa's elegant handwriting with a single sentence which when he read it, made Kit's heart soar more than he would ever admit: These are all our valuables but even they despite their meaning and importance mean nothing to us, compared to how valuable you are to us Kit Herondale.