The Runes Curse

Chapter 1

QUINN

Quinn Blackthorn was running through the dark streets of London with her best-friend, Cecily Lightwood. Most would think that they were sketchy, but they were just doing their usual routine; search the streets for something that wouldn’t usually be there, slay the demon, and then to it all over again. Now, though, they had found a Hellhound. Most commonly known as a demonic-dog. The girls would probably have killed it, sending it back to its original dimension, but tonight they were slacking.

“Quinn, did you actually want that book?” Cecily asked, fiddling with her crossbow and tracing the angels sketched onto it. Quinn looked over at Cecily, stepping over a puddle, and meeting her eyes; flecks of grey were scattered in her ocean-blue eyes, giving it a type of thunderstorm look. Quinn wanted her eyes, the beauty of them.

“I guess,” Quinn replied, itiching her neck. She’d worn a black, short-sleeved turtleneck, but was regretting it. The summer air, which was unusual, breezed through the streets that they were roaming. The sky was open to the stars, giving the moon a glow that reminded her of when whenever someone would rune themself.

They were currently by Beckenham, but Quinn wasn’t paying attention to streets. That was her mistake, though.

“Are you really liking it, though?” Cecily was a book-nerd. Her whole world revolved around books and anything that she could learn from. She would normally spend her days in the London Institute’s library. Institute; where Shadowhunters normally stayed or visited. Both Quinn and Cecily stayed there with their parents; the Lightwoods and the Blackthorns. Quinn and Cecily were both too young to run the Institute, but being 16 was only two years away for them.

“Cecily—“ The sound of something crashing made both the girls jump, but they recovered quickly. Being a Shadowhunter usually did that for you; a breed of half human, half angel. They were decedents of Jonathan Christopher, who was the original Nephilim. “It’s here,” Quinn said, taking out a dagger and positioning herself firmly in a position that she was taught to do when you never knew who/what was coming for you. Cecily mirrored her, putting an arrow in her crossbow. Quinn bit her lip, gripping Dumah. Her hands felt sweaty as she glided her other hand across the blade, soothing herself. She always got nervous whenever she’d had to fight or hunt, because she couldn’t be runed. Runes; the tattoo like markings that most Nephilim used to protect themselves or heal. Quinn Blackthorn was not lucky, though. She could never be runed. It was a huge setback for her, and she was insecure about it. At the age of 12, when most Shadowhunters get runed, she was runed, but the side effects were what most humans would get from being runed.

“Are you sure?” Cecily asked.

Quinn nodded in reply, moving closer to the dark, creepily silent alley. Trash from the club next door was scattered along the ground. The alley looked almost scarier than compared to others that Quinn and Cecily have fought in; the remains of a dumpster was everywhere, it’s green metal scattered, and a sickly smell of demonic was in the air. Quinn gasped, covering her nose with her shirt and stepping into some sort of purplish goo. She knew what it was; demons.

But not just any demon, but a Hellhound. Quinn had fought several over her Shadowhunter years, but the smell was different.

“It’s not a Greater Demon!” Quinn cheered, doing a type of dance that most of her peers would cringe from. She wasn’t a very good dancer, so she just sort of flailed her arms around in a mentally-unstable fashion. Cecily laughed, putting her crossbow behind her back.

“Yeah, but—“ Cecily stopped mid-sentence to the sound of ruffling of paper, and Quinn stopped her dance.

What, Quinn thought to herself.