Page 98 of Better in Black
Krog unleashed a despairing moan that sounded like all life was seeping out of him. “Terrible.”
“I don’t want Izzy to wonder,” Simon said. “Or worry. No matter what happens, I would never want her to be unhappy.” This too, he had never put into words for himself. But it was not a surprise. Itwas the bedrock truth of how he felt about Izzy, how he’d always felt about her, since the day they met. Whatever was going on between the two of them, he couldn’t stand to see her in pain.
“Well, it sounds like you’re really in love,” Krog said. “So I guess you’re screwed.”
—
They got off the subway at the Brooklyn Bridge–City Hall station and climbed back up to the street. Simon didn’t spend that much time in the financial district, and never at night. He thought of it as a boring, crowded neighborhood full of office drones in identical suits. By day, these streets were full of businesspeople walking importantly toward their important jobs, staring down at presumably important emails and bumping into each other without noticing. But this late at night, the streets were almost deserted.
The only people out seemed to be couples arguing in front of the doormen of their buildings. Snippets of people shouting at each other drifted on the wind:
“I hate your hat!”
“Yeah, well, I hate your mother!”
“I never liked your dog. I don’t even like that you’re adog person.”
A gasp. “Leave Bark Twain out of this!”
Simon looked over at Izzy. She was walking with her gaze straight ahead, her mind clearly on the mission. Her lovely face was calm and determined, showing no feeling, but that’s how she always was before battle.
He wondered if the sounds of couples fighting bothered Izzy the way they bothered him: as a reminder that they, too, had been snapping at each other all evening. But it wasn’t just the snapping, was it? He wished the problem they had was as minor as Izzy hating his hat. If she hated a hat of his, he would have burned it, or atleast only worn it when she wasn’t around. This was something much bigger. It wasn’t as if they never argued before, but somehow the issue of the Scholomance job cut to the heart of their relationship. To the heart of whether or not Izzy thought they had a future together.
He refocused his attention. The pedestrian entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge was very close. As they approached, Simon’s phone lit up with a text from Clary:
We got the Shax demon onto the bridge, but I don’t know how long he’ll stay.
And then a second text:
Okay, weirdly, the demon ran into someone he knows. Kind of a tall, icy Greater Demon type lady. Should we kill her?
Simon texted back, requesting that Clary and Jace not kill either demon, but instead herd them toward the bridge’s central support—a massive granite-and-limestone column in the middle of the walkway—and retreat to the far, Brooklyn side of the bridge.
So if we’re on the far side, and you’re on the Manhattan side, we’ll have them trapped,Clary texted.Got it.
It really was wonderful to have aparabatai,and to be understood immediately without having to elaborate, Simon thought, but he had no time to dwell on that. He, Krog, and Isabelle were already making their way onto the bridge. Below the pedestrian walkway, the roads were completely blocked by cars that had come to a standstill so that the people inside them could fight. At least there wasn’t a single mundane paying any attention to the Shadowhunters—everyone around them was wrapped up in arguing, busy crying, or fleeing from people who were doing both.
“I see Iago,” Simon told Izzy and Krog, as they strode along the central bridge walkway. “And it looks like Ajatara is with them.”
“Yes. I could never mistake her for another!” Krog said, pointing at the central bridge support. Beside it was Ajatara, like a pale white ghost, her long ice-colored hair whipping around. A shadowy, insectile shape hunched close to her. “And that must be Iago. I recognize his handsome form from here. Perhaps he is telling her exactly what he thinks of her for betraying me. He is a loyal friend.”
Simon had only seen a few Shax demons in his time, but all had borne a strong resemblance to a giant cockroach, and this one didn’t look like it was going to be any different. Not his particular idea of handsome, but to each his own.
“I must be near her,” Krog declared, gazing at the Greater Demon. “To, ah, gauge whether her misery is complete.”
“Sure, that’s the reason,” Simon said, drawing a seraph blade from his weapons belt. “Go ahead. Just remember the plan. Make sure you stay out of sight.”
Krog nodded and rushed ahead, nearly skipping—either because Ajatara was so close or so unhappy, or possibly both—and Simon and Izzy were left, finally, alone.
“I think the sun’s coming up soon,” Simon said, after a short silence.
Izzy was determinedly not looking at him. “It’s almost sunrise, so: Brilliant deduction.”
Simon felt the red mist rising behind his eyes again. He fought it down. “Look, Izzy,” he said. “We’re arguing because of Ajatara. Becauseeveryoneis arguing. But we know something they don’t. We know this is a spell. We know this anger isn’t real. So can’t we justtryto have a reasonable discussion?”
There was another long silence. They had made it to the wooden part of the bridge’s walkway, which creaked under their boots. “I’m not sure all this anger isn’t real,” Izzy said, finally.
“Okay,” said Simon. “Let’s talk about the real part. Let’s not treat this as if—”
