CHAPTER TEN

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CHAPTER TEN
OCTOPI DEMON


*:・゚✧*:・゚✧


     "Did you or did you not go and see your mother without me? Be honest. I won't be mad."

Adrian doubted that, considering he actually grunted when Isabelle's practice stick landed against his own. She had swung it so hard that the aftershocks shot up his arms. If he wasn't trained to deal with such blows, he would've dropped his own practice stick completely. Frowning to himself, he shoved her stick off of his own, then pulled it back to circle it above his head. Her eyes flickered up to look at it warily—he was better at such weapons, after all—and as soon as she did, he twisted around and brought his foot up. The heel of his foot landed on her hip in a well-practiced kick, and her gasp of pain echoed throughout the training room. She stumbled, her hand pressing against the spot as she used her practice stick to keep her balance. She glared at him through her hair, which was falling out of the clip she had put it in.

"You sound mad," Adrian pointed out, breathing hard as he lowered his practice stick. He almost wished they were using their real weapons. They were resting on a table nearby, just out of reach. He would've preferred this sparring to be a little more dangerous, just to get his adrenaline pumping. He was on edge as it was. The sight of that dead Shadowhunter wouldn't leave his mind; the sight of that dead man talking, moaning in pain, begging for it to stop. A shudder went through him. Compared to witnessing an act of horrible necromancy—committed by one of his close friends and endorsed by his guardian, no less—his visit with his mother seemed like a walk in the park. A walk in the park that had happened months ago, not days.

"I don't sound mad," Isabelle corrected, still rubbing at her hip. Adrian, feeling a pang of guilt, dug his stele out of his pocket and approached her. Without a word, she held out her arm, and Adrian drew a quick iratze on the inside of her wrist. Her sigh of relief was immediate, and she shot him an ugly look to show she didn't appreciate his kick. He just shrugged. He couldn't tell her about what was truly bothering him—Maryse had ordered him to keep the act of necromancy a secret, and he knew it was coming from the Head of the Institute, not his guardian—so he would let Isabelle think it was the visit to his family that was truly bothering him. For now. Once they were parabatai, he would tell her everything. "I sound like I'm getting my ass kicked by my own future parabatai. What's gotten into you? Was the visit really that bad?"

"It was..." He chewed on the inside of his cheek, glancing away. It was rather hard not to blurt out the fact that Clary had a necromancy rune at her disposal. He sighed and rubbed at his forehead, grimacing. "It's actually not about my family. Not right now, at least. Maryse swore me to secrecy about something and I really want to tell you, but..." He offered her a sheepish shrug when Isabelle pinned him with a harsh glare. "She'll know if I tell you. You know she will. I'll tell you after our parabatai ceremony. Deal?" She pursed her lips, then rolled her eyes.

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