Page 79 of Better in Black
They made their way back down the corridor until they reached the werewolves, still slurping at each other’s faces, oblivious to the world around them. Emma cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she said loudly. “I was hoping to get into the bathroom.”
The werewolves pulled apart slightly. “There’s a weirdo inthere,” said the female werewolf, who had cute blue pigtails. “I think she’s got a knife.”
Emma felt her body go tense.
“I think that’s our weirdo,” Julian said.
The other werewolf turned around and eyed him more closely. “Shadowhunters,” he said. “Never mind. Go on in.”
Emma drew Cortana, and the werewolves stepped hastily aside. Julian already had a seraph blade in his hand; Emma hadn’t even seen him retrieve it. Witchlight in one hand, Cortana in the other, Emma shouldered the door open and slipped inside, Julian right behind her.
—
The bathroom, Emma had to admit as the door closed behind them, was exactly the place she herself might have gone if she was unarmed and feeling threatened. A small space where she could control access, where there were doors that locked and heavy porcelain items that could be thrown, where she could hide, plan, attack, or escape.
The lighting in the bathroom was dim, tinted purple, the only decoration a dilapidated poster of a unicorn. The Other Emma was crouched in the corner, head resting on her knees, her breathing harsh. Her hair was a damp tangle around her face.There’s something wrong with her,Emma thought, puzzled, but she didn’t lower her blade. She might be pale and sick-looking, but Thule Emma was staring at Emma herself, and Julian, with a blazing hatred that could have powered a city block.
“Murderers,” she hissed. “Murderingtraitors.”
“You should talk,” Julian said evenly. He whispered to his seraph blade, and it caught fire, blazing up like a spear of brilliance. It illuminated his eyes: cold, steady. He would absolutely kill theOther Emma if he felt it had to be done; Emma had no doubt about that. “Tell us why you’re here. How you got here. Now.”
Thule Emma tracked the sword’s light with her eyes, which were brilliant, almost feverish.
“You think I owe you answers?” she whispered. In the light of the seraph blade, Emma could see that Thule Emma was deathly pale. Like she hadn’t seen the sun in years. Which probably meant she hadn’t been on Earth for very long. Not long enough for her skin to feel much sun, or long enough, Emma hoped, to stir up much trouble. “After what you took from me, you think I owe you anything but blood?”
Emma remembered. Their last battle, in Thule, against the Endarkened.
Julian drew his hand out from his jacket; he was holding a throwing knife, small and sharp with red stones in the hilt; Emma barely had time to recognize it before he had flung it. It whipped through the air, grazing Livvy’s cheek and sinking deeply into the eye of the Endarkened Julian who held her…
“That’s over,” Emma said. “If you give up your weapons and come with us now, we can guarantee the Clave won’t hurt you.”
Thule Emma rolled her bloodshot eyes. “Was I really ever this insipid?”
Emma tightened her grip on Cortana. Her hand was slippery with sweat. Being this close to the Other Emma was worse than disconcerting; it felt as if she were coming to hate herself, to hate her own face and voice.
If only they could get back to the Institute. Get the others involved. Find out what was going on.
“This universe isn’t like yours,” Julian said. “We still have the Law here. We will treat you with justice.”
“If not mercy, right? The Law is hard, et cetera? I remember. Pretty funny in retrospect.” Thule Emma laughed, a laugh that turned into a cough. “Oh, allright.I’ll come with you.” She sounded annoyed more than anything else, as if she was agreeing to go to a restaurant she didn’t particularly like.
Julian exchanged a wary look with Emma.
“There’s nothing for me here,” said Thule Emma. “I have nowhere to go, and this world is beyond my understanding.” She shook her head. “I might as well go with you. I have questions, too, you know.”
Hesitant, careful, Emma took a step forward. Then another. Thule Emma remained where she was, the picture of despondence, shaking a little as if from cold. Emma reached out a hand to her—
And a red line appeared on the back of it, even as Emma launched herself backward, away from the silver arc of a blade. A blade Thule Emma had flicked from her boot; she had slashed out at Emma, missing everything but her hand by inches. She was on her feet now, the dagger shining in her hand. She started toward Emma, who danced away, her hand bleeding. Julian cut between them, his seraph blade arcing to sweep Thule Emma’s legs out from beneath her.
The Other Emma hit the floor, her head cracking on the linoleum, but kept her grip on the dagger as she rolled across the dirty floor and sprang back up into a crouching position.
Cortana was singing in Emma’s ears, begging to be used, but Emma resisted—they needed Thule Emma alive.
She grabbed for Thule Emma’s wrist and pulled hard, as Julian slammed the flat of his blade against her back. Thule Emma gasped but didn’t flinch, spinning out of the range of his blows.
It was two against one. It should have been quick and easy. But Thule Emma had two advantages over them. First, Emma andJulian were trying not to deal any fatal blows. Second, the Infernal Cup had amped up her strength, her speed, her resilience. The Endarkened Shadowhunters in their own world had seemed, sometimes, to have the strength of demons—this was how they’d drowned the streets of Idris in blood. Thule Emma, who’d been Endarkened for years, was even stronger.
Shouldn’t she be dead?Emma thought. On Earth, the Endarkened had died when Sebastian died. They had killed the Sebastian who existed and ruled in Thule—the last Emma had seen of her other self was Thule Emma sprawled, seemingly lifeless, over the dead body ofherJulian. How was she even here?
