idris; saturday ft
With exams behind them and only one more week before the end-of-year party and summer vacation, Shadowhunter Academy felt more like camp than school. Flick couldn’t believe he’d been here the whole school year; he couldn’t believe he’d survived the year. He’d learned Latin, runic writing, and a smattering of Chthonian; he’d fought tiny demons in the woods, endured a full moon night with a newborn werewolf, ridden (and nearly been trampled by) a horse, eaten his weight in soup, and in all that time, he’d been neither expelled nor exsanguinated. Against all odds, the Academy had come to feel like home. A slimy, moldy, dungeonlike home without working toilets, maybe, but home nonetheless. He, Simon, and George had even named the rats that lived behind their walls. Every night, they left Jon Cartwright Jr., III, and IV a piece of stale bread to nibble, in hopes they’d prefer the crumbs to human feet.
Classes may have been over for the year, but the Academy faculty was still finding new ways to torture them.
“What do you think it is this time?” Julie Beauvale asked as they settled onto the uncomfortable wooden benches in the main hall. The entire student body, Shadowhunters and mundanes alike, had been summoned first thing Monday morning for an all-school meeting.
“Maybe they finally decided to kick out all the dregs,” Jon Cartwright said. “Better late than never.”
Flick said, “Suck it, Cartwright.”
George snorted and Simon sniggered.
Up at the front of the hall, Dean Penhallow cleared her throat loudly, looking pointedly in their direction. “If we could have some silence, please?”
The room continued chattering, Dean Penhallow continued clearing her throat and asking nervously for order, and things could have gone on like that all morning had Delaney Scarsbury, their training master, not climbed up on a chair. “We’ll have silence, or we’ll have one hundred push-ups,” he boomed. The room hushed immediately.
“I suppose you’ve all been wondering how you would keep busy now that exams are past?” Dean Penhallow said, her voice rising at the end of her sentence. The dean had a way of turning almost everything into a question. “I think you’ll all recognize this week’s guest speaker?”
An intimidating barrel-chested man in gray robes strode onto the makeshift stage. The room gasped. Flick winced. His eyes quickly fell on the person behind Robert Lightwood and he frowned. Isabelle was there, looking unhappy and distant. He had a feeling it had to do with her father but he couldn't be sure until he was able to talk to her.
“You’ve nearly completed your first year at the Academy,” Robert Lightwood told the assembled students, somehow making it sound less like a congratulations than it did like a threat. “My daughter tells me that one of the mundanes’ great heroes has a saying, ‘With great power comes substantial responsibility.’”
“You’ve learned a lot about power this year,” Robert Lightwood continued. “This week I’m going to talk to you about responsibility. And what happens when power runs unchecked, or is freely given to the wrong person. I’m going to talk to you about the Circle.”
At those words, a hush fell across the room. The Academy faculty, like most Shadowhunters, were very careful to avoid the subject of the Circle-the group of rogue Shadowhunters that Valentine Morgenstern had led in the Uprising. The students knew about Valentine-everyone knew about Valentine-but they learned quickly not to ask too many questions about him. Over the last year, Flick had come to understand that the Shadowhunters preferred to believe their choices were perfect, their laws infallible. They didn’t like to think about the time they’d been nearly destroyed by a group of their own.
It explained, at least, why the dean was hosting this session, rather than their history teacher, Catarina Loss. The warlock seemed to tolerate most Shadowhunters-barely. Flick suspected that when it came to former members of the Circle, “barely” was too much to hope for.
Robert cleared his throat. “I’d like all of you to ask yourselves what you would have done, were you a student here in Valentine Morgenstern’s day. Would you have joined the Circle? Would you have stood by Valentine’s side at the Uprising? Raise your hand, if you think it’s possible.”
Flick was not surprised to see not a single hand in the air. He’d played this game back in mundane school, every time his history class covered World War II. Flick knew no one ever thought they would be a Nazi.
Flick also knew that, statistically, most of them were wrong.
“Now I’d like you to raise your hand if you think you’re an exemplary Shadowhunter, one who would do anything to serve the Clave,” Robert said.
Unsurprisingly, many more hands shot up this time, Jon Cartwright’s the highest.
Robert smiled mirthlessly. “It was the most eager and loyal of us who were first to join Valentine’s ranks,” he told them. “It was those of us most dedicated to the Shadowhunter cause who found ourselves the easiest prey.”
There was a rustling in the crowd.
“Yes,” Robert said. “I say us, because I was among Valentine’s disciples. I was in the Circle.”
The rustling burst into a storm. Some of the students didn't look surprised, but many of them looked as if a nuclear bomb had just gone off inside their brains. Isabelle had told Flick that Robert Lightwood used to be a member of the Circle, but it was obviously hard for some people to reconcile that with the position of the Inquisitor, which this tall, fearsome man now held.
“The Inquisitor?” Julie breathed, eyes wide. “How could they let him . . . ?”
Beatriz looked stunned.
“My father always said there was something off about him,” Jon murmured.
“This week, I will teach you about the misuses of power, about great evil and how it can take many forms. My able daughter, Isabelle Lightwood, will be assisting with some of the class work.” Here he gestured to Isabelle, who glanced briefly at the crowd, her impossibly fierce glare somehow growing even fiercer. “Most of all, I will teach you about the Circle, how it began and why. If you listen well, some of you might even learn something.”
While Flick knew some of the story, he still listened raptly as the Inquisitor launched into his story about the early days of the Circle, about Valentine's goals and purpose and some very light background on the other Circle members. Flick knew that things got more interesting, more dynamic as the Circle grew but he knew it had to start somewhere and that was what they'd heard today.
During the lecture, Flick had kept his eyes on Isabelle, trying to see how she was taking this but she continued to look aloof, cool and like she didn't want to be there.
The speech wound down and Flick was still watching Isabelle as people started to file out and the Inquisitor went to confer with the Dean.
]Post 1 of 2. Taken and adapted from The Evil We Love. NFB]
Classes may have been over for the year, but the Academy faculty was still finding new ways to torture them.
“What do you think it is this time?” Julie Beauvale asked as they settled onto the uncomfortable wooden benches in the main hall. The entire student body, Shadowhunters and mundanes alike, had been summoned first thing Monday morning for an all-school meeting.
“Maybe they finally decided to kick out all the dregs,” Jon Cartwright said. “Better late than never.”
Flick said, “Suck it, Cartwright.”
George snorted and Simon sniggered.
Up at the front of the hall, Dean Penhallow cleared her throat loudly, looking pointedly in their direction. “If we could have some silence, please?”
The room continued chattering, Dean Penhallow continued clearing her throat and asking nervously for order, and things could have gone on like that all morning had Delaney Scarsbury, their training master, not climbed up on a chair. “We’ll have silence, or we’ll have one hundred push-ups,” he boomed. The room hushed immediately.
“I suppose you’ve all been wondering how you would keep busy now that exams are past?” Dean Penhallow said, her voice rising at the end of her sentence. The dean had a way of turning almost everything into a question. “I think you’ll all recognize this week’s guest speaker?”
An intimidating barrel-chested man in gray robes strode onto the makeshift stage. The room gasped. Flick winced. His eyes quickly fell on the person behind Robert Lightwood and he frowned. Isabelle was there, looking unhappy and distant. He had a feeling it had to do with her father but he couldn't be sure until he was able to talk to her.
“You’ve nearly completed your first year at the Academy,” Robert Lightwood told the assembled students, somehow making it sound less like a congratulations than it did like a threat. “My daughter tells me that one of the mundanes’ great heroes has a saying, ‘With great power comes substantial responsibility.’”
“You’ve learned a lot about power this year,” Robert Lightwood continued. “This week I’m going to talk to you about responsibility. And what happens when power runs unchecked, or is freely given to the wrong person. I’m going to talk to you about the Circle.”
At those words, a hush fell across the room. The Academy faculty, like most Shadowhunters, were very careful to avoid the subject of the Circle-the group of rogue Shadowhunters that Valentine Morgenstern had led in the Uprising. The students knew about Valentine-everyone knew about Valentine-but they learned quickly not to ask too many questions about him. Over the last year, Flick had come to understand that the Shadowhunters preferred to believe their choices were perfect, their laws infallible. They didn’t like to think about the time they’d been nearly destroyed by a group of their own.
It explained, at least, why the dean was hosting this session, rather than their history teacher, Catarina Loss. The warlock seemed to tolerate most Shadowhunters-barely. Flick suspected that when it came to former members of the Circle, “barely” was too much to hope for.
Robert cleared his throat. “I’d like all of you to ask yourselves what you would have done, were you a student here in Valentine Morgenstern’s day. Would you have joined the Circle? Would you have stood by Valentine’s side at the Uprising? Raise your hand, if you think it’s possible.”
Flick was not surprised to see not a single hand in the air. He’d played this game back in mundane school, every time his history class covered World War II. Flick knew no one ever thought they would be a Nazi.
Flick also knew that, statistically, most of them were wrong.
“Now I’d like you to raise your hand if you think you’re an exemplary Shadowhunter, one who would do anything to serve the Clave,” Robert said.
Unsurprisingly, many more hands shot up this time, Jon Cartwright’s the highest.
Robert smiled mirthlessly. “It was the most eager and loyal of us who were first to join Valentine’s ranks,” he told them. “It was those of us most dedicated to the Shadowhunter cause who found ourselves the easiest prey.”
There was a rustling in the crowd.
“Yes,” Robert said. “I say us, because I was among Valentine’s disciples. I was in the Circle.”
The rustling burst into a storm. Some of the students didn't look surprised, but many of them looked as if a nuclear bomb had just gone off inside their brains. Isabelle had told Flick that Robert Lightwood used to be a member of the Circle, but it was obviously hard for some people to reconcile that with the position of the Inquisitor, which this tall, fearsome man now held.
“The Inquisitor?” Julie breathed, eyes wide. “How could they let him . . . ?”
Beatriz looked stunned.
“My father always said there was something off about him,” Jon murmured.
“This week, I will teach you about the misuses of power, about great evil and how it can take many forms. My able daughter, Isabelle Lightwood, will be assisting with some of the class work.” Here he gestured to Isabelle, who glanced briefly at the crowd, her impossibly fierce glare somehow growing even fiercer. “Most of all, I will teach you about the Circle, how it began and why. If you listen well, some of you might even learn something.”
While Flick knew some of the story, he still listened raptly as the Inquisitor launched into his story about the early days of the Circle, about Valentine's goals and purpose and some very light background on the other Circle members. Flick knew that things got more interesting, more dynamic as the Circle grew but he knew it had to start somewhere and that was what they'd heard today.
During the lecture, Flick had kept his eyes on Isabelle, trying to see how she was taking this but she continued to look aloof, cool and like she didn't want to be there.
The speech wound down and Flick was still watching Isabelle as people started to file out and the Inquisitor went to confer with the Dean.
]Post 1 of 2. Taken and adapted from The Evil We Love. NFB]