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melanielocke · 3 years

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Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 16

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

CW: this chapter delves a bit deeper into Alastair's head and can be a bit heavy

Previous Chapter: Chapter 15

Next Chapter: Chapter 17

I’d hoped some of you had more sense. I thought you could be a voice of reason among them, Alastair. The words echoed in Alastair’s head, he should have known this was bound to happen. The Herondales thought he was a good person, capable, trustworthy, and they were wrong. They would have found out eventually, but it still stung. And he’d tried. He’d wanted so badly to be what Will and Tessa believed he could be, but he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t a good person, he wasn’t capable, he wasn’t like Jem. He was awful and worthless and undeserving of their kindness.

Before dr. Gray could have said anything else, Alastair had left, gone to his bedroom. Years of practice to keep his expression blank, to never show that they get to you, it was all coming apart. He couldn’t do this anymore. He was so tired of pretending to be something he was not.

He collapsed onto the bed and curled up as if to protect himself. He grabbed his stuffed hedgehog, tried to find comfort in it. He was often ashamed to keep his hedgehog when he was far too old to still be sleeping with stuffed animals, but he’d never had a childhood, he’d never felt safe and protected. When he held his hedgehog, he could at least pretend. It wasn’t working. He felt so helpless, like everything was spiraling out of his control and he didn’t know how to make it go away. He had always liked to pretend he was in control, by keeping everything neat and organized he was controlling what he could. But the truth was that nothing in his life was in his control and it never would be.

He was caught in a storm and there was nowhere he could find shelter, the only thing he could was endure. He wasn’t sure how to do that either. At times like this Alastair feared it would always be like this and he would never get better. He wasn’t even sure what was going on, there was just an overwhelming sense of helplessness, of perceived danger and being too small and weak to do anything to protect himself.

He heard someone knock on the door. Cordelia, perhaps. Or Thomas. They couldn’t see him like this. They couldn’t see just how worthless and awful and broken he was. Even around them, he was pretending, acting like he was fine as long as people didn’t drink when he was around. Thomas deserved someone better than him, someone who could give him everything. Alastair was used to giving people he loved everything he could, and it had never been enough. He could not deny that he was the common factor there. Whatever love he had left was broken at its core, he could not love people enough and in return he did not deserve to be loved.

‘Alastair, are you in there!’ Cordelia yelled.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, Cordelia seeing him like this or Thomas. At least Cordelia had seen him break down before. Once upon a time, anger had been his defense. When things became too much and he couldn’t take it anymore, he would get angry. He’d yell at people, or else he’d turn stone cold and hateful. He’d hurt so many people with that, had so many regrets. He’d learnt to stop doing that. Lately he didn’t even know how to feel angry anymore. He often just felt empty inside, tired. Sometimes he didn’t feel anything anymore, as if he wasn’t even human. But that emptiness was still preferable to this, he thought, better than being overwhelmed by emotion, by a sudden sense of helplessness and a perceived danger he wasn’t even sure wasn’t there. Although perhaps when that helplessness went away and emptiness remained, he’d wish he could just feel something.

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia!’ Alastair yelled back, summoning the last bit of his old defensiveness.

‘Alastair, can we come in?’

Thomas, his voice gentle, but Alastair could hear some anxiety in there as well. Thomas might like him, find him attractive even, but he was bound to find out Alastair couldn’t be a good partner, couldn’t fulfill his needs.

‘Please don’t!’ Alastair said. His voice broke. ‘Just… leave me, alright? You don’t need me, you can find the selkie skin without me.’

‘Alastair, I’m going to sit out here, and when you’re ready, come open the door. I’ll wait all day if I have to.’

Alastair hadn’t expected his sister to respect his request, he’d expected her to barge in, Thomas in tow, and drag him out of bed. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He clutched his hedgehog against him. He didn’t know what to do anymore. He couldn’t save Thomas. He’d disappointed Tessa. His memory wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

Alastair had always thought he could accept that very few people loved him. He didn’t like most other people much and preferred the safety of his own shell anyway. But he did long to be loved, even if he did not deserve it. Thomas was bound to find out soon enough, if he even survived. Alastair knew it would be his fault if they lost Thomas, because instead of working on saving him, he was here, broken down and useless. He never knew what to make of Will and Tessa, he suspected they had this idea of him that was more about his cousin Jem than about who he was. But Jem was extraordinary, and Alastair could never live up tot that.

He gave in to the overwhelming emotion and started crying. He tried to silence the sobs in his pillow, he didn’t want anyone to know he was crying. It was pointless, he knew, but Alastair was still so ashamed of his emotions.

He wasn’t sure how long he kept going. He cried until he couldn’t anymore, and when he was finished he just felt empty. At least that sense of helplessness was away, even if what replaced it wasn’t much better. Alastair dried his eyes and got out of bed, gently stroking his hedgehog before making his bed and carefully placing the hedgehog underneath his blanket.

He figured he might as well come out. At least now he could pretend things were fine, even if his eyes were still puffy and red. When he opened the door, both Cordelia and Thomas were sitting there, relieved to see the door finally open. How long had they been there, waiting for him? Why would they do that? Tessa was there too, and Alastair immediately regretted his decision to come out of his room and wanted to retreat.

‘I truly am sorry, dr. Gray,’ Alastair said, his voice small. He couldn’t look her in the eye, but then Alastair had always struggled with eye contact. It had taken him years to figure out the appropriate times to make eye contact and force himself to do it. When he was too overwhelmed he just couldn’t do it.

‘No, I am sorry,’ Tessa said. ‘My husband confessed he encouraged you to go into the woods. But even if he hadn’t, I should not have singled you out like that.’

Alastair wasn’t sure what to make of that apology. ‘We should not have lied,’ Alastair said.

He wanted to add an explanation of the selkies skin, but he felt he was still too overwhelmed to say more than a few words. He could pretend he still had this under control, that he still knew what he was doing and could save Thomas. He could pretend he wasn’t dead and empty inside. He would do the best he could, because Thomas deserved to live. And if it cost him his life, maybe that was for the best.

Alastair wasn’t suicidal, he’d never made concrete plans to end his own life, he only had the occasional thought of death. For some weird reason, that had gotten worse at first after leaving Father. Before, Alastair had no choice but to endure, because his mother and sister needed him. If he didn’t protect them, who would? But after leaving, he’d sometimes feel like he had no purpose anymore. He no longer had to protect his mother and Cordelia, and although he was safe now too he never felt that way. At times he did feel he might be better off dead. That had improved about a month after starting his medication though, he rarely had these thoughts anymore.

‘I trust you,’ Tessa said. ‘Can I talk to you for a moment? It’s alright if you prefer another time.’

Alastair nodded, still unable to meet Tessa’s eyes. He hoped he would be able to speak properly. On rare occasions, Alastair found himself unable to get the words through no matter how much he wanted to. It was something he hadn’t found an explanation for, but there were times he was too overwhelmed to speak. Usually when he was upset, he got angry and said cold, cruel things he didn’t mean. But when things got too bad and spiraled out of control sometimes he just couldn’t get words out, something he once concealed by giving people his most hostile glare and walking away.

Tessa sat down in one of the arm chairs in his room, and Alastair sat down in the other, hoping he’d be able to actually have a conversation.

‘I’m trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head,’ Tessa said. ‘I know what I said hurt you, and I should not have put that sort of responsibility on you. I admit I’d thought that since you were careful, you might keep Lucie and the others out of trouble. But that isn’t fair to you, and I want to make sure you’re alright.’

‘It’s fine,’ Alastair managed to say, glad to be able to get at least some words out. He didn’t understand it, and it was fortunately a rare enough occurrence that he hadn’t really tried to understand it. He figured it was just another thing that was broken about him, although this was something that had been present when he was a child as well.

‘You don’t have to parent my daughter, Alastair. Nor Cordelia,’ Tessa said. ‘That is my responsibility as Lucie’s mother.’

‘I’m not like Jem,’ Alastair said.

It was not exactly a logical response to what Tessa said. There was so much more he wanted to say, but those were the words he could get out of his mouth, the thing he wanted to make clear. Because he knew Will and Tessa thought he was like Jem, and they had impossible expectations of him because of that.

‘I know,’ Tessa said. ‘If anything, you’re more like Will. And Gideon. But most of all, you’re like you. And you’re enough, as you are. It is not weakness, that you are struggling, and we all want to do what we can to support you.’

Alastair could only nod in response.

‘And if you want to go back into the woods, I won’t stop you. I know you’ll make the right call, Alastair.’

She shouldn’t trust him, she really shouldn’t. But he knew he would only make this more difficult and uncomfortable if he said that, if he could even get the words past his lips. People often didn’t understand the way he thought, and explaining his reasoning sometimes made him feel like he was crazy. He went downstairs with Thomas and Cordelia, who were still waiting outside the room.

Tessa groaned when she only saw her husband in the living room, nose stuck in a book. ‘Where did Lucie go?’

‘She’s just in the garden,’ Will said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

Alastair sat down on the couch next to Thomas and snuggled against him. He knew he didn’t deserve this, he knew it wouldn’t last, but he couldn’t help but indulge in the moment. At least Thomas was here now. At least it was something. At least he could feel something good now with Thomas so close to him. And Charles had never done anything like this, had never held him and comforted him. He wondered how soon Thomas would get tired of this.

Cordelia went outside to find Lucie, and Will and Tessa disappeared too, Alastair wasn’t sure where to. They’d be back soon enough, he guessed, and he was comfortable like this. Thomas was warm, and his strong arms were wrapped around him and kept him safe.

‘If there’s anything you need, just tell me,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m here for you, alright?’

Alastair just nodded, leaning into Thomas, placing Thomas’ arms in such a way that it was comforting and soothing. Lucie’s Lilo and Stitch blanket was next to him, and Alastair rubbed his hands over it, enjoying how soft it felt.

He didn’t dare voice his concerns about Thomas. He expected Thomas to deny it. People always lied, and sometimes they even believed their own lies. He suspected Thomas would. Thomas was so sweet and kind and saw good in people when there was nothing. He probably believed this would work out and he could love Alastair enough to fix what was broken. But Alastair had enough experience to know love didn’t fix anything.

‘I’m serious,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m not sure yet, how all this works, what you need, but I want to figure it out.’

Alastair kept rubbing his hand on the blanket, stroking it in a repetitive motion. He was feeling a little better, but so tired.

‘I’m still figuring it out, too,’ Alastair said, feeling like he had calmed enough to speak again. ‘That’s why I’m seeing a therapist. She helped me identify triggers and find better ways to cope with sudden flashbacks and fear than anger outbursts. I used to have those all the time.’

‘I heard something from James,’ Thomas admitted. ‘About a year ago. How you burst out against him and then Cordelia broke up with him.’

‘He must have been very upset,’ Alastair said, guilt creeping over him.

‘He was,’ Thomas said. ‘I think at the time he didn’t understand why Cordelia had broken up with him. Lucie did though, she did the best she could to explain. But as James told it, you were so angry with him for no reason, and he was terrified. But I’m thinking, that must have been because of your disorder, right?’

Alastair sighed. ‘Please do not use my PTSD as an excuse for my behavior. I know I’ve said and done awful things, nothing excuses that. But yes, before I started therapy, I lashed out when I was upset. And that night, James and Cordelia were fighting over something. I’m not sure what it was about, probably something silly, and I’m guessing the fight itself must not have been so serious. But I’d just come home from my ex, and when I heard them I thought he was hurting her. I thought she was in danger. So I got angry. It never got physical, by the way. People always think I’m violent, because that’s how they view Persian men, but I’m not. Then James got angry too. And I understand. All he knew of me was the bastard I’d been when we went to school together, and he thought I was a monster. He said he didn’t understand why my sister still loved me, and when Cordelia asked him to leave, he at first refused to leave her alone with me, convinced I’d hurt my own sister.’

Alastair was shaking, even if it had been over a year ago. And honestly, he couldn’t blame James. He knew it was his fault, and he knew James’ perception of him was influenced by how he’d treated James. It would have been a lot worse coming from someone he didn’t have a past with. He knew that because of the way they looked, people expected Alastair to be violent and controlling and people expected Cordelia to be meek and submissive and in need of rescue from her family, or well, the Iranian part of her family. He knew many would assume his sister needed to be rescued from him, when he’d done everything he could to protect her.

‘Cordelia stepped in, and dragged James out before it got out of hand, and later I learnt that’s when she’d broken up with him.’

‘It’s not so much an excuse as it is an explanation,’ Thomas said. ‘We can all grow and do better, and having a disorder is not an excuse to hurt people, but I know you’re doing the best you can and I feel it would be unfair to hold you to the same standards as someone who does not have PTSD.’

Alastair wasn’t sure he agreed. More than anything, he wished he could be normal, he wished he could be in control and be good enough. He was doing the best he could, Thomas was right about that. But the best he could wasn’t enough.

‘But if I cannot be held to the same standards, what about my father?’ Alastair asked. ‘Does that mean, because addiction is a disorder as well, he cannot be held to higher standards? Could I not have expected more of him?’

Thomas frowned. ‘I don’t think it’s the same. As I said, having a disorder is not an excuse when you hurt someone. But you were very young when you did hurt people, and you stopped. You changed. You’re going to therapy. Your father never did any of that, did he?’

‘No he didn’t,’ was all Alastair said.

When he was younger, he’d been foolish enough to believe his father’s promises. He would say he’d quit, that it wouldn’t happen again, that he’d gotten better. But he never did. He wasn’t sure he could explain the disappointment, of finding his father passed out with a bottle again after believing his promises.

‘I think I’m not explaining it well,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m not sure… I know you’re sorry, for what you did, and that you’re trying to do better. But I think you lashing out because of your fear is not the same thing as someone else who is awful to people because they enjoy hurting others, or because they believe they’re better than them. You still have the responsibility to do better, but it’s not the same.’

‘I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone,’ Alastair said softly, tears in his eyes. ‘That’s the thing, I always knew it was awful, I knew what I did to people. I knew how much it hurt and I never wanted to do that to someone else. But I did it anyway, because I couldn’t take it anymore. At the time I thought those were my options, be bullied or become the bully. And I convinced myself, no matter what I did, it wasn’t as bad as they’d done to me. But that didn’t matter.’

Alastair burst into tears. He tried to stop it, to control himself, but he couldn’t. Part of him expected Thomas to let go of him, but he didn’t and Alastair leaned into him even more, closing his eyes. He could feel comfortable like this. He could pretend he was safe and protected. Thomas’ strong arms made a better illusion of safety than a lifeless stuffed hedgehog, for sure.

It was difficult, when someone could see right through him. And he knew Thomas had always seen through him. Had Thomas made excuses for his behavior back then? Had he defended him from his friends? Thomas had said he’d always seen Alastair was very sad, had he suspected something was not right? Had he used that as an excuse for the awful things he’d done? It was sweet of Thomas, for sure. But he didn’t want people to make excuses for him, he didn’t want them to pretend it was fine. He knew he didn’t deserve that.

‘You know, my father told me he was quite awful when he was in school,’ Thomas said. ‘When he went to Spain, he realized what his father had taught him was wrong and he didn’t want to be like that anymore. He deserved a second chance, and so do you. So far, you’re doing an amazing job.’

Alastair was tempted to shut Thomas down again. He wasn’t doing a good job. He’d tried to change, to be better, and at least he was no longer hurting others, but what use was it when he couldn’t help them either, when the only alternative to hurting others was hurting himself? But he was curious too, how similar was he to Gideon Lightwood? Tessa had drawn the same comparison.

‘I really can��t picture your father as a school bully,’ Alastair said, wiping at his eyes.

‘Me neither,’ Thomas admitted. ‘But he believes everyone deserves a second chance, because where would he be if he hadn’t been given one? And I find it really hard to believe what you said to me about my parents only liking you because of your power or because you want to save me. That’s not what they’re like at all.’

Alastair wasn’t sure how to explain that to Thomas. Perhaps he was making too many assumptions, but it just seemed unlikely anyone could like him for him as a person. People liking his power made much more sense. It was the only thing his father had liked about him, the only part of him he’d showed even an ounce of interest in. It was the only part Father hadn’t deemed worthless.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ was all Alastair said, mostly because he didn’t know how to explain what he was really feeling and didn’t want Thomas to worry.

Lucie and Cordelia returned inside, both their faces serious and Alastair suspected they were still concerned about the selkie’s skin. He had run out of ideas on how to enter that world by now. He sat up, but didn’t quite move away from Thomas yet. It felt too good to be held like this, Thomas’ arms applying just the right amount of pressure to be soothing. He wanted to hold on to that feeling.

‘Okay, so I have some news,’ Lucie said. ‘Grace escaped from Tatiana again and came to deliver a message to me. She claims I am a witch and I can use dark magic to open a gateway.’

‘Doesn’t using dark magic require making a deal with something like the creature we’re trying to defeat?’ Thomas asked.

‘According to Grace, not when you’re a witch. But that’s very uncommon, apparently. And she thinks my seeing ghosts is a sign I’m a witch. Problem is, I have no clue how to do any of the things she claims I can do. What do you know about witches?’

‘All I know is, sometimes people are born with certain powers, like my memory, but as far as I know all such powers are rare and no one understands why it happens,’ Alastair said. ‘Since she’s not human, maybe she knows more.’

‘There was an evil witch a few centuries back who was defeated by your and Cordelia’s ancestor,’ Lucie said. ‘And then she turned into a mermaid, which is how Grace knew about her.’

‘Some of our ancestors did keep journals, in an attempt to improve our knowledge of the supernatural,’ Alastair said. ‘Of course, those are full of contradictions, and sometimes racist assumptions about creatures that aren’t evil or dangerous, but protected indigenous cultures from colonizers. But a story about a witch would likely be documented.’

‘Can we see these journals?’ Lucie asked. ‘I’m guessing your ancestor didn’t know much about how she did it, but he must have known what she used to fight him.’

Alastair shook his head. ‘My father has them.’

Alastair couldn’t face his father, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready, even if needed to. He felt tired and empty now where he was somewhat safe, but he suspected he’d fall apart if he had to confront his father. He definitely didn’t want Cordelia to have to talk to him. For a long time, she’d idolized him, but now that she knew the truth, and knew how it had affected him, she was angry.

‘Your father could ask for them,’ Thomas suggested to Lucie. ‘Will has known him for some time. Or perhaps he can ask uncle Jem to talk to Elias.’

Alastair wasn’t sure his father would listen. He wasn’t sure what to think, what to expect from his father now. He hadn’t seen him since he left, not outside his memories and nightmares. He didn’t know what his father was up to, and he didn’t want to know. All he knew was, Jem was still trying, Jem never gave up on anyone. But Alastair had given up a long time ago.

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Lucie Herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Thomastair #Lucelia #the last hours #tlh #fanfiction

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beyondtheciouds · 4 years

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Part 29. 3 of 3

Twas the night before Yulemas and all through the house not a creature was stirring except for a small brown mouse.

The children were all snug tight in their beds. Smiles on their faces as dreams of sugared plums danced in their heads.

Outside, the snow fell in droves and filled the streets, impassible for cars and carriages. The windows were frosted; icles hanging like glittering packages.

The brick and mortar chimnies chain smoked; pairs of lungs coughing ashes.

Dust saturated the fresh snowflakes on snowcapped rooftops; heavy as Lucie's lashes.

The moon was nearly full; the fringe of dawn barely a heartbeat. Lucie didn't hesitate getting out of bed when she suspected Henry and Charlotte were fast asleep.

Her secret plans were already in motion; she was in far too deep.

Tonight Lucie and Grace would wake the one lost in an eternal sleep. The anticipation ran through her bones; sidewinding up her veins like an ivy on a chase.

The candles on the Yulemas tree were long snuffed out; the yuletide log smoldering in the fireplace.

The only sound downstairs was the incessant scratching inside the walls. A mouse was hunting about, searching the halls.

The manor was festive; the decor just right. Charlotte had decorated in odd bright colors; glitter and gold balls. A sight to behold, a treasure left scandously untold.

Mugs of cold, sugared tea and burnt biscuits were dutifully set out by Matthew's sisters in hopes of toys being brought.

They were antsy and fought before bedtime. That is, until Lucie sang them a sweet rhyme.

Earlier, Lucie had been filled with warmth as Henry played carols on the pinafore and the girls sang loudly and off key.

She had spent the evening after supper with Cordelia and Charlotte, knitting sweaters for the three.

Now she felt bitter and upset, but the night wasn't over. No, not yet.

The conversations had flowed so easily between the women in the hours before. Lucie had almost forgot the other demands; the baby she tried to ignore.

But the truth was, she was happy to be doing something productive with her hands.

Lucie enjoyed the conversations even if listening to Charlotte was quite the chore.

Tomorrow was Yulemas but Lucie could not have felt less festive.

Yes, the girl Herondale had become rather quite obsessive.

A solid glance over her shoulder gave her courage in the dark. Cordelia was fast asleep on the opposite bed, stiff like chalk.

Lucie stilled, thinking she heard Oscar bark.

Cordelia's back was turned to Lucie; the long braid resting against the comforter like a serpent.

Cordelia was the only one who wouldn't help and the lack of support streamlined Lucie's determination like a torrent.

Lucie felt guilty, like a sneaky child as she opened her door. She crept out into the candle-lit hall ignorant of the consequences her actions might cause.

A familar frown pressed her lips as she closed the door and paused.

For weeks a string tugged at her, knowing that her freedom was slipping through her finger. Each free moment was ready to disappear; the life with a drinker.

Everything seemed doomed; so unfair.

Selfishly, she assumed tonight was only a prelude to the tired life she would soon have living in the walls of Fairchild Manor or worse: Matthew's downtown London flat.

For hours, Lucie had tried to sleep after adjusting the ribbons on an old hat.

She read Cordelia a chapter or two of a mystery book, then finished with a cup of warm milk.

Poor Lucie begged her brain to shut off long after she was wrapped in cotton and silk.

But Charlotte's voice kept droning on in her ears, until her heart was able to tilt.

"I am really happy that Matthew is with you, Lucie. You do know he is trying quite hard to be a better man for you and the baby. You will be quite a good match for my wild child, and quite happy I assure you."

Lucie was uncharacteristically careless in her response. She had only thought about her own wants.

She whole heartedly disagreed before silencing herself much to Cordelia's horror.

Many times Lucie Herondale had tried to imagine being married to Matthew, just for a minute or an hour.

She pictured having a family, a normal Shadowhunter life with him at her side. A family life like her own.

But she just couldn't picture herself being trapped inside. A bird in a cage; her wings barely flown.

She couldn't stay in the net waiting up for him every night. It was just too much to ask.

Worrying. Wondering if tonight would be the night he'd get in a fatal fight or worse; death by her own axe.

How they would feed their family if he died. How would she live, crumbling on the inside. She didn't even have the faintest idea how he felt about women writers or the socially responsible duties they were to provide.

Lucie didn't have a clue how to be a mother or run a household.

This much she'd been told; they'd be wed under the sacred Shadowhunter vows; their bodies marked each with a matching rune.

After they would go on living as two separate people under the light of the moon.

He would conquer binges of weeks where he'd be drunk daily and purges where he would be sick and sober.

She'd stay home; keep house and take care of the children, and he'd lovingly call her his good luck clover.

This would be a cycle that wouldn't end. It would only grow worse with each year; each baby born on the cusp of regret and condenscend.

That didn't mean living with Matthew Fairchild was hopeless as a snowflake in the rain. Perhaps Lucie was wrong. Perhaps Matthew Fairchild was only in pain.

What the cards were showing Lucie now was just a reality she didn't think she could endure.

The truth was, part of Lucie did love Matthew, so much more. When he bled, she bled in her core.

Nightmares and dreams about him had often haunted her into rejecting his previous advances and now she knew why.

She presumed the dreams were omens; warning her not to abandon the sky.

The Fairchild/ Herondale union had been long awaited for by both families, but particularly by the Consul.

Lucie knew what Charlotte expected of her future daughter-in-law was damn near impossible.

Change Matthew. Fix him.

Lucie dreaded every moment spent under the Consul's watchful eye. Every minute she was in Charlotte's company was as unpleasant as a stye.

As Lucie passed Matthew's room, thinking about the last time he'd held a sober smile, she slowed her pace and stopped short. A groaning noise came from within and Lucie wondered if Matthew had overdone it on port.

His door was open just a crack, enough to see into the chaos of his existence; a dream. The stench of stale cigars and regurgitated gin spilled into the hall; hitting her nose like steam.

Lucie gagged and her heart broke at the sight of him laying like a rag doll among dirty linens.

She hadn't expected him to be home and was shocked to see him in such a position.

Lucie had never been able to read Matthew's mind. Now, she wondered if it might have been a good find if she'd had the time.

Her heart had conceded and concluded any type of relationship with him was out of the question.

Being Matthew's bride had never been a suggestion.

She pretended that had been the reason she never reciprocated his feelings. Not until she plainly understood him and his bad dealings.

A well of sadness filled up inside her as she reached out her hand, shining the witchlight into the darkness of the room. The bed was empty except for Oscar, a pillar in the sand.

As usual, the golden retriever was unaware; sleeping loyally ontop of a ragged blanket tucked under his hand.

She shined the light just above Matthew's sleeping body. His arms were spread, legs tucked tight together; a disgusting hottie.

Distracted by the way the light sweat on his chest gleamed pale under the flickering witchlight, Lucie thought about that night. The sweet smirk that swelled on his face was a haunting memory; a sin and a show. One she had hidden in her bones reminding her of a promise she made to him that felt so long ago.

The breeze was cool; the night hot. Cicadas and crickets staged their favorite tunes in an effort to provide a sonata. Not a cloud nor haze flooded the starlit sky; only fireflies lit up the night. Shades of blue from the lake lit her eyes with a warm glow. Lucie watched Matthew with anticipation as her skin grew warmer from every sip of his flask.

Do you love me? Matthew's hot breath on her neck. His lips were fire; hot cinnamon liquor burning her skin with each devious kiss on her flesh.

Yes. Everything would have been yes to him in the heat of that moment. Her hands were beyond confinement and reached eagerly for the buttons on his waistcoat.

Do you promise, Lucie darling? His green eyes were dark, serious under the stars.

I promise. And she meant it. Or she thought she did.

I love you, Lucie Herondale. You're the only one besides James that means anything to me. This is for forever. I swear on my life.

I love you too. Her lips against his were ice on fire; electric and numbing the voice screaming in her head.

Lucie blinked, rolling out of her reverie with the grace of someone used to disappearing into herself.

Matthew was still sprawled out, drool trickled down, out of his mouth.

His hand rested among the fresh vomit and spit on the rug. He was still in his rumpled navy pants and his belt was half undone; broken as the wings of a dead bug.

Stained socks and muddy shoes were discarded in a heap. It was as if he meant to climb in bed and instead just collapsed on the floor, fast asleep.

Lucie wondered if she should wake him; maybe help him into bed or the bath.

Matthew was snoring loudly; the sound sheilding his lips like a mask.

Lucie frowned, watching him and the moment of charity pass.

Matthew stirred and kicked out his leg. He groaned and rolled his head in torment and wrath. "Luce...Lucie. please. PLEASE. Forgive me. Forgive me."

Lucie sighed and flipped the braided pigtails over her shoulders, disgusted and disappointed instead. She shook her head at Matthew, her heart turning to ice.

How could she ever love him like this? The strings of her heart pulled her into a vice.

Lucie knew she wasn't entirely being nice.

At least now she knew Math was safe and breathing. One crisis averted. Now she could stop caring for awhile and continue seething.

Butterflies rolled inside her belly as the baby turned; shifting positions as if it sensed his father's presence and his mother's disgrace.

Lucie tried not to cry as she quickly shut Matthew's door, glad for him to be out of her sight at least for the night.

Lucie Herondale knew she'd be learning a hard lesson in faith.

The manor was cold, bitter like her uncharacteristic temperament. It was just the way Lucie liked things lately; quiet without comment.

The cold made her feel closer to death; closer to Jesse's spirit.

He was quite the opposite of Matthew who had the most obnoxious tendency to be satiric.

She warmed her heart as she thought about the ghost and his quiet, melodic ways. She imagined him in the sunlight; alive during the days.

Lucie became once more determined to save his soul. A debt that was unpaid; a secret not to be told.

Christopher and Grace had snuck downstairs after the lights went out. They were headed to the lab without a doubt.

Christopher thought he might have figured out a chemical compound needed in the spell Grace had shown him during tea and lemon tarts that afternoon.

James promised to guard the door as Thomas occupied the insomniac old housekeeper with a card game and some gin. Every one was in their places; helping Lucie's cause and Lucie shivered, feeling Matthew's hands still on her skin.

A whistle helplessly escaped her lips as she moved down the hall. She felt slightly more optimistic, smiling and all.

Lucie could feel the hairs on her arms rise, theories becoming reality. She felt Grace and her were getting closer to the right order of the specialty.

Goosebumps coated her bare arms as her feet padded quietly towards the music room; the hem of the nightgown billowing around her ankles like a flowers bloom. She tried not to skip like a schoolgirl.

The witchlight she cupped in her hands bounced off the walls; reflecting the contemporary colors in various variations of self portraits and Lucie couldn't help but look down at her hand; Matthew's ring and his pearl.

Suddenly, she was breathless. She stopped; reckless.

Something was wrong.

Someone was watching.

Someone was waiting.

Most of the walls were covered with expensive self paintings. Here and there; scattered were exquisite Idris countryside landscapes which Lucie found intoxicating.

Minature statues and other odd art were strategically placed on pedestals along the walls. Flowers on tables; Oscar Wilde inspired green carnations graced the hall; smelling pecularily of mint and clover during the fall.

This was Matthew's wing and it was freely decorated over. An artist's heart trapped in a body lacking talents. Everything was either beautiful or tragic to him; a man of great gallant.

Nothing was traditional or logical. Should it be to a man of illogical graces?

Lucie noticed the bright green of his eyes in some of the faces. They seemed to move slowly and appeared to be following.

She ignored their name calling as she caught her breath and moved on into the fray. The eerie feeling reminded her of Matthew's favorite legend; Dorian Gray. The fear that story brought back drowned out any other excuse she may have had for being frightened.

Lucie shook slightly as she quickened; her toes were red and numb as her limbs tightened. She scolded herself for venturing this far in the manor for a waste of a shortcut. Down this demented, self loathing hallway she desperately desired a peanut.

She hated that she discarded Matthew's privacy so blatantly. Even moreover her eagerness to meet Jesse hastily.

It had been almost a week since they'd met in private. The time spent apart dramatic.

In all the time she had been in the manor, she had never been in one of the extravagant rooms he uses. He had always forbid it and come to her; insisting she was the favorite among his muses.

Lucie was reminded of the story of Beauty and the Beast, which she found odd and sad at the very least.

Down the stairs, nearly tripping over her feet. Lucie felt a strange tingle on her sheet of skin as she reached the doors to the music room. She took a deep breath and pulled the solid oak doors open and slam against the wall with a boom. "Jesse?"

The moonlight greeted her; pure and silver like a star. Lucie was awestruck by what she saw.

In it's center was a black grand piano; to the left was another Yulemas tree twinking with candles, surrounded with gifts. The branches were strung with gold ribbons and mistletoe adrift.

The shapes of the gifts were shadows on the ceiling; fingers beckoning to the great beyond. Lucie could sense other spirits shamelessly coiling in the dark corners; not ready to move on.

Jesse was tired, trembling and translucent. Lucie felt like she on a boat on the rocking seas. His body was perched on the bench; his hands poised above the ivory keys. His head was lowered; ink stains on the pure, paper skin of his face.

Lucie gasped, parched. She could see he was singing an old Welsh song quietly by the light of a illuminating hearth. She smiled as his fingers instinctively played the tune in the air.

He was beautiful and fair.

Lucie hushed the intrusive and intricate shape of a story taking place in her head. She didn't want to break the moment, but she had to say something to make her heart stop racing and her breath like lead.

"Hello," she whispered to the dead.

#cassandra clare #the last hours #lucie herondale #the shadowhunter chronicles

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thomaslightwood · 4 years

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search „your name + core + aesthetic“ on pinterest, and make a moodboard about yourself

Thanks for the tag @ash-kit @lucie-herondale-blackthorn 💙 It was really fun!

Tagging: @daisycordelia @fair-y-child @lunar-sapphic-nephilim @cordeliaxcarstairsx @thomas-lightwood-floats-my-boat @thomaslightwoodx @thomastair-paris (sorry if anyone already do it or don't want to do it, just ignore this then)

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lexacourtney · 5 years

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Title: Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1)

Author: Cassandra Clare

Pub. Date: March 3, 2020

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Welcome to Edwardian London, a time of electric lights and long shadows, the celebration of artistic beauty and the wild pursuit of pleasure, with demons waiting in the dark. For years there has been peace in the Shadowhunter world. James and Lucie Herondale, children of the famous Will and Tessa, have grown up in an idyll with their loving friends and family, listening to stories of good defeating evil and love conquering all. But everything changes when the Blackthorn and Carstairs families come to London…andso does a remorseless and inescapable plague.

James Herondale longs for a great love, and thinks he has found it in the beautiful, mysterious Grace Blackthorn. Cordelia Carstairs is desperate to become a hero, save her family from ruin, and keep her secret love for James hidden. When disaster strikes the Shadowhunters, James, Cordelia and their friends are plunged into a wild adventure which will reveal dark and incredible powers, and the true cruel price of being a hero…and falling in love.

This will be a spoiler free review!

I’m going to start with, I can’t believe that I got to read this book early. I don’t know how I won a giveaway for this book, but I did.

It’s been a hot minute since I last read a Shadowhunter book, or anything set in this expansive world. I mean, it’s been since Lady Midnight…yeah, I haven’t finished that trilogy yet. It’s been even longer since The Infernal Devices (my favorite books in the whole Shadowhunter series) …since Will and Tessa.

I keep meaning/wanting to re-read them, but it still feels like it’s too soon. It’s only been like 7 years…but I start thinking about that scene at the end where Tessa rolls over in bed to tell Will something and he’s not there.

And, now I’m crying.

See, I’m not over it.

Will I ever be over it?

I don’t know.

It’s why I haven’t gone back and re-read that trilogy, even though I really should and really want to.

But Chain of Gold is fun because I get more Will and Tessa…married Will and Tessa and their children + friends! It’s like the best of both worlds! I get to visit some old friends, make new ones, without the sad ending. If you’re a fan of The Infernal Devices – like if they’re your favorite books in this world, then you’re going to love this book. Same feeling, same characters and the stakes are higher than ever. I really enjoyed this book and its characters. Matthew Fairchild might just be my favorite character. Though, with that being said, I really loved the whole band of Merry Thieves – Thomas, James, Christopher and Matthew. Thinking about it, they kind of gave me Marauder vibes, and honestly, I’m here for it. But before I jump into the characters, let me talk a bit about the book.

I was excited to go into Chain of Gold, but for the first quarter of the book or so, I was a bit unsure and a bit confused. Maybe it was because I’d been gone from this world for so long, or maybe it was just the massive info dumping and time jumping, but I found myself procrastinating when it came to picking up the book. Once I managed to start reading again, I was nearly instantly hooked and hated to put the book down for anything, but then I’d put the book down and the cycle would start all over again. It wasn’t until about the 50% mark that I became really invested and therefore really annoyed that I had to stop reading to do things like make dinner and eat dinner.

I blew through the second half of the book and I kind of regret doing that because now I’m stuck waiting for book 2 – Chain of Iron – and this one isn’t even properly out yet.

I guess I forgot how lengthy Shadowhunter book tend to be – even thought I look at the like 10 feet of shelf space they take up on a daily basis, but this book was long. A lot gets repeated in this book and I don’t quite get why. I understand that all of these various Shadowhunter series are meant to stand alone, but also build upon each other, but don’t require you to have read the previous series, but I don’t need to be told over and over and over and over by every other character the same sort of information. I lost count of how many times I was told about the Silent Brother’s and Iron Sisters and what they did. I don’t know how many times I was told about the stele’s and seraph blades.

I get that some of this is to inform new readers who might not have any of this background knowledge from multiple past series, but it still doesn’t explain why every other character explains it in their own way.

I’m just saying that it was repetitive and had me groaning with annoyance.

But honestly, I think that’s probably my biggest complaint – the length and repetitiveness. And due to its length, I do think that the second half of the book is strong and more interesting. Major things were starting to happen, and it wasn’t just a bunch of info dumping and setting up the world. Overall, like I said, I really enjoyed this book and found it to be a pretty good read. I definitely think that I’m more of a Victorian/Edwardian Shadowhunter world over the more modern/current day one. I always thought that the Infernal Devices were the better books, so it stands that I’d choose this new trilogy over the other books.

Granted, I haven’t actually finished The Dark Artifices yet, so maybe I should do that before I make any claims.

But let’s move onto the characters, because there are so many to get through.

Like, so many.

Maybe almost too many.

Between familiar faces, to new characters, it’s a full cast.

And apart from the main core set, it was hard to keep track of everyone, and who they were related to, and how they were related, and finally, who was dating/liked who. I needed a freaking map to just keep everyone straight.

Since there were so many characters, we’re just going to focus on the main ones – Will, Tessa, James, Lucie, Matthew, Christopher, Thomas, Cordelia, Alistair, Jesse, Grace, Anna and Charles – otherwise I’ll be here all night…hell, I might be here all night with just the core group.

Okay, let’s keep this brief.

Will and Tessa

It was so fun being back with Will and Tessa and seeing them older, as parents. I don’t remember everything about them from The Infernal Devices, but I do remember absolutely loving them. I loved how in love with each other they still were, and how they made Lucie and James uncomfortable, in only the way parents can. I just loved being back in this world with them.

*Art by Cassandra Jean

James and Lucie

Ugh, I loved them, but I wish there had been more one on one time between the two of them. I just wish there had been more about their sibling bond, thought I suppose there are two more books to get that from. James is fiercely loyal, and Lucie is a dreamer and wants to experience the world. For being Will and Tessa’s kids, that seems to fit pretty damn well. They’re also fiercely protective of each other and I love them. I also love how Lucie is writing a book and everyone she knows in real life is in it in some capacity.

*Art by Charlie Bowater

Matthew, Christopher and Thomas

The other three who make up the Merry Thieves. Like I said before, very Marauder-esque. Matthew is probably my favorite of the four boys, he’s suffering, and I think, in need of a hug. Christopher is brainy and likes to tinker around with things, to mash mundane science with angelic tools. Thomas is like the gentle giant, loyal to his friends without fail, but also open to seeing other sides of things. Together they all complement each other very well, and I just want all of them to be happy.

*Art by Charlie Bowater and Cassandra Jean

Cordelia and Alistair

Cordelia is a bad ass, and Alistair needs a hug as well. I really like the two of them, I liked Cordelia from the beginning, whereas Alistair took a long time to feel for. They’re both dealing with so much, individually, personally and as a family. I really liked their bond though, even when it seemed utterly stretched taught at times. You could tell that Cordelia loves her brother, despite his faults. I didn’t actually anticipate feeling anything for Alistair, but by the end of the book he was one of my favorite characters. We all make mistakes, and I think he’s one who will actually grow into a better person because of them.

*Art by Charlie Bowater

Jesse and Grace

I love Jesse, not a fan of Grace. Like, I could do without Grace to be honest. I know we can’t just get rid of her because plot things, but I can wish. When I figured out what she was doing, when that little plot thing clicked…Ooo, let me tell you, I got so mad. Then at the end of the book…I groaned and raged, because what happened was what I didn’t want to happen. Jesse seems so soft and sweet, while his sister is like the opposite. So, I’m hoping we get more of both of them, because I’m pretty sure they’re a pair, and I can’t pick and choose.

*Art by Charlie Bowater

Anna and Charles

Loved Anna, she’s awesome. I loved how observant she is, and how knowing. It’s like she knows what you want before you do, and that comes with a cocky knowing arrogance that I love in characters. Oh, Charles. I’m still kind of on the fence about him. Like I don’t know whether to write him off or wait to see. He’s made some mistakes, he’s a bit power hungry, but I think his heart is in kind of the right place. I don’t think he’s a bad guy, he just does things for the wrong reasons, or in a wrong way.

*Art by Charlie Bowater

It’ll be interesting to see where all these characters end up in the next two books. I’m really hoping that Alistair gets a few friends, that Matthew stops being so sad and drunk all the time, that Lucie gets the experiences she craves, that Cordelia’s heart doesn’t break, that James can come to terms with his ancestry, that Thomas and Christopher continue to tinker, fight and be there, that Jesse gets the ending he deserves as does Grace, and that Anna gets to have her heart’s desire, and that maybe Charles learns that power isn’t everything. I also hope that we don’t have to live through a certain character death again, at the end of this series. You hear me Will Herondale, I can only live though it once!

Also, if you haven’t seen, Charlie Bowater did character art for most of the characters I’ve mentioned, and as always, they’re gorgeous. I actually saved them all down to my phone, so as I was reading, I could go look at them, and remind myself of what the characters look like. With a huge cast of characters and so much happening in this book, the portraits of the characters she did, were so useful.

Seriously, so much happens in this book, and while the plot was full of so many scenes, my favorite parts were the character relationships. The bonds they share and form and all the interactions. Ugh, I want to say more, but I also do not want to spoil this book for anyone. So, if you want to talk about this book – whether you’ve read it early, or after its release, feel free to DM me over on Twitter and I’ll be more than happy to talk. As it stands, I have no one to talk to and there’s this certain scene I want to talk about, and I can’t.

It’s torture.

I’m so excited for Chain of Iron and this wait is going to suck.

So much.

I have no idea what to expect, or how this trilogy is going to turn out, but I have a feeling it’s not going to disappoint. I have my predictions, my hopes for who is going to be endgame, but really, I have no idea what could happen plot wise. I know the books are going to be chocked full of action moments, sweet moments, gushy moments and probably heart breaking moments, but everything else, I have no idea, and I’m ready and quite terrified to find out. I love these characters now, and don’t want any more harm to come to them.

I’m excited and you should be too!

Chain of Gold is out March 3, 2020 and

“The entire first print run in the US and UK will be a special first edition. It will contain a beautiful portrait of the main characters by Cassandra Jean, and will also include the long-awaited short story Fairy Tale of London, about Will and Tessa’s wedding! Preorder your copy from any of the links below to make sure you get the special first edition.”

Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Indiebound / Books A Million / Simon & Schuster

So make sure you order your copy soon!

Book Review: Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1) by #Cassandra Clare I love these characters so much. #newpost #blogpost #bookpost #bookblog #books #blog #blogger #bloggerswanted #bloggerstribe #bloggingcommunity #bookish Title: Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1) Author: Cassandra Clare Pub. Date: March 3, 2020…

#Book Blog #book review #book reviews #Bookish #books #New Post #Reading #TBR

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