The Lost Book of the White (The Eldest Curses #2) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,106
quietly. “It’s too much gambling with people’s lives.” He wouldn’t look at them. “With all your lives.”
“Simon…,” said Clary again. “We’ve been through so much already and we’re okay. You’ve been undead, you’ve been invulnerable. You’re one of the only people alive to have seen an angel, and you’ve been in the presence of two different Princes of Hell. You killed Lilith!”
“The Mark of Cain killed Lilith,” said Simon in a colorless tone. “I just happened to be there.”
“Being a Shadowhunter—” Alec began to say, but to his surprise, Isabelle stopped him with a glare.
Simon lifted his head. He looked lost, distant. “We went through the Portal, gambling we’d be able to get back. You gave yourself to the demons,” he added to Isabelle. He sounded sick. “You were gambling you’d be able to get away. Tian pretended to betray us. Gambling he’d be able to save Isabelle once Sammael wasn’t watching him.”
“But that all worked out,” said Jace. “I mean, I guess we don’t know how we’ll get back from Diyu yet, but given all the Portals everywhere…”
“It’s too much gambling,” said Simon. “You can’t win every time. Eventually you lose.”
“But not yet,” said Alec.
Simon glowered. “In May,” he said, his voice shaking, “I watched George Lovelace die screaming. For no reason. He drank from the Mortal Cup and he burned and he died. He was no different than me. No less worthy of Ascension. If anything, he was more worthy than me.”
No one spoke.
“It was the final lesson of the Academy,” he said quietly. “Shadowhunters die. They just… die for no reason.”
“It’s a dangerous job,” said Jace.
“George wasn’t doing anything dangerous,” Simon ground out. “He didn’t die in a noble act of sacrifice; he didn’t die because a demon got the better of him. He died because sometimes Shadowhunters die, and it isn’t for anything. It just is. That was the lesson.”
“Isabelle was rescued,” said Alec. “You’re rescued. Tian is okay.”
“This time!” Simon laughed. “Yes, this time it worked out. What about next time? And by the way, next time is tomorrow. How do you do it?” he said, looked around at them helplessly. “How do you risk yourself and everyone you love, over and over again?”
Isabelle went to Simon and put her hands on his shoulders. He looked up into her eyes, searching for something there. Alec knew what he himself would say: that this was the gig. That being a Shadowhunter was a high and lonely task, that being chosen for such a purpose was a gift and a curse, that its risk was precisely why it was so important, that he had fought with Simon for years now and Simon was definitely, obviously worthy of being one of the Nephilim. He thought of Isabelle, her ferocity, her intensity, her commitment, and he expected her to say something like what he himself would say.
But she didn’t. Instead she put her arms around Simon and hugged him tightly. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know. It doesn’t always make sense, my love. Sometimes it makes no sense at all.”
Simon made a low, choked sound, and buried his head against Isabelle’s neck. She held him there, still and silent.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“He has to understand,” Alec said very quietly.
Isabelle gave a tiny nod of her head. “He does understand,” she said. “Just—give us one second, okay?”
Clary bit her lip. “I love you, Simon,” she said. “I love you both.”
She turned and walked away, and the others followed: as Simon’s parabatai, in an odd sort of way, it was Clary’s call. Alec could hear Isabelle murmuring softly to Simon, until they had moved far enough away that the sound disappeared.
“Isabelle’s right,” Clary said, once they had returned to the nave. “Simon knows—he’s just hurting. It’s only been a few months since he lost George.” She leaned against one of the stone walls. “I wish I could do more. Be a better parabatai. Fighting alongside someone you love isn’t just about fighting more effectively. It’s also about supporting each other when things go wrong.”
“We know exactly what you mean,” Alec said, looking at Jace. “And you are a good parabatai, Clary. Watching you and Simon together—”
“It’s like seeing the two of us,” Jace said, indicating himself and Alec. “Strength and beauty. Perfect harmony. Skill and intuition, exactly matched.”
Alec raised an eyebrow. “Are you strength or beauty?”
“I think we all know the answer to that,” said Jace.
“You really are a very strange group of people,” observed Tian.