Fragile Hearts (TID - Will Herondale fanfic)

Chapter 62: The Fight With Werewolves

Ella didn't know what to do. The words Jem is dead echoed in her head. She couldn't do anything. Anything except hold Will in her arms as he went through this.

  Parabatai not being two is worse than a loved one dying.

"My name is James Carstairs. Call me Jem. Everyone does."

  "Please don't tell anyone of me," Eleanora said anxiously. "My mum... she would be in danger of the Enclave."

  Jem considered for a moment. "Fine."

  Her eyes lit up. "You would do that for me?"

  Jem smiled warmly. "On one condition. I will see you every week to make sure you are fine. Maybe you can be my Friend."

  Ella smiled wistfully at the thought. She very much wanted a Friend. She was the only child in the house. And she liked this boy. He was very friendly.

  "Deal."

How she had met Jem replayed in her head, each time like a knife forcing itself into her chest.

Will wasn't shaking or crying. He was just so still, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"So this is them, then? The Nephilim?"

Werewolves, Ella thought.

She distantly recalled seeing some of them.

She slowly let go of Will, looking up at them as he did. But it was too late. A hand reached for her. It grabbed her by her cloak and hauled her to her feet.

She was too weak to defend herself.

Five werewolves. The werewolf holding her slammed her back against the stable wall, and Ella let out a small sound of pain.

It was nothing compared to the pain inside of her.

"Get your hands off her!" Will shouted, drawing out a dagger. "The Accords forbid touching a Nephilim unprovoked—"

"Unprovoked?" The werewolf in front of him yanked Ella forward and slammed her back against the wall again. She gasped, blinking as pain as rage took over. She was not a plaything. She drew out her dagger from behind her. "I'd say it's provoked. If it wasn't for you Nephilim, the Magister never would have come after our lot with his dirty drugs and his filthy lies—"

Will looked at the werewolves with an emotion bordering on hilarity.

"Dirty drugs and filthy lies," Will drawled. "That does sound unsanitary. Though, tell me, is it true that instead of bathing, werewolves just lick themselves once a year? Or do you all lick one another? Because that's what I've heard."

The hand in Ella's cloak tightened. "You want to be a little more respectful, Shadowhunter. We have your partner here."

"No," Will said. "No, I really don't. Nora can take care of herself. She'll kill you if you try to hurt her again."

"We've heard all about you, Will Herondale," said one of the other werewolves. "Always crawling to Downworlders for help. We'd like to see you crawl now."

"You'll have to cut me off at the knees, then."

"That," said the werewolf holding Ella, "can be arranged."

Will snapped into action just as Ella did. She whipped the dagger up from behind her and slashed it across the werewolf's face, then pushed herself off the wall, lunging at the werewolf.

She embedded her dagger in its chest and it fell to the ground.

They came here to kill us.