Bred in the Bone #5
“There’s nothing for me here,” said Thule Emma. “I have nowhere to go, and this world is beyond my understanding.” She shook her head. “I might as well go with you. I have questions, too, you know.”
Hesitant, careful, Emma took a step forward. Then another. Thule Emma remained where she was, the picture of despondence, shaking a little as if from cold. Emma reached out a hand to her—
And a red line appeared on the back of it, even as Emma launched herself backward, away from the silver arc of a blade.
A blade Thule Emma had flicked from her boot; she had slashed out at Emma, missing everything but her hand by inches.
She was on her feet now, the dagger shining in her hand.
She started toward Emma, who danced away, her hand bleeding.
Julian cut between them, his seraph blade arcing to sweep Thule Emma’s legs out from beneath her.
The Other Emma hit the floor, her head cracking on the linoleum, but kept her grip on the dagger as she rolled across the dirty floor and sprang back up into a crouching position.
Cortana was singing in Emma’s ears, begging to be used, but Emma resisted—they needed Thule Emma alive.
She grabbed for Thule Emma’s wrist and pulled hard, as Julian slammed the flat of his blade against her back. Thule Emma gasped but didn’t flinch, spinning out of the range of his blows.
It was two against one. It should have been quick and easy.
But Thule Emma had two advantages over them.
First, Emma and Julian were trying not to deal any fatal blows.
Second, the Infernal Cup had amped up her strength, her speed, her resilience.
The Endarkened Shadowhunters in their own world had seemed, sometimes, to have the strength of demons—this was how they’d drowned the streets of Idris in blood.
Thule Emma, who’d been Endarkened for years, was even stronger.
Shouldn’t she be dead? Emma thought. On Earth, the Endarkened had died when Sebastian died. They had killed the Sebastian who existed and ruled in Thule—the last Emma had seen of her other self was Thule Emma sprawled, seemingly lifeless, over the dead body of her Julian. How was she even here?
Emma flicked her balisong out of her pocket.
If she couldn’t use Cortana, this was the next best thing.
She said a silent prayer of gratitude that Cristina had drilled her in the use of the butterfly knife, even as she launched the blade across the room, slashing out with it, aiming for Thule Emma’s leg.
The quickest way to put her out of commission would be to make sure she couldn’t walk.
She scored a direct hit, the blade sinking into Thule Emma’s leg. The Other Emma hissed a curse as blood spurted from the wound. Emma darted toward her, but despite the wound, Other Emma was still strong. She slammed her hands into Emma’s chest, sending her flying nearly halfway across the room.
“I’d assumed even a pathetic alternate universe version of me would be a better fighter,” Thule Emma said, ignoring the knife sticking out of her leg in a move that made the real Emma wince. Blood leaked around the blade in slow pulses.
Emma, winded, only glared, but Julian moved. She’d expected him to. Even though they were no longer parabatai, they moved in sync, fought in sync. She could feel him thinking the same thing she was.
He lunged at Thule Emma. She didn’t even try to move out of the way, just let him slam into her. Suddenly Thule Emma’s back was against the wall and Julian was holding her there, his arm across her throat. She was grinning.
Emma felt a little sick. On the one hand, Julian had the evil version of Emma pinned. On the other hand, the evil version of Emma was clearly enjoying it.
Ugh.
“Emma is nothing like you,” Julian snarled. His eyes blazed as he stared at Thule Emma. She licked her lips, her gaze fixed on him; she was practically salivating. “I knew who you were the minute I saw you. Not my Emma. A monster.”
Thule Emma seemed to purr. “Funny, because the moment I saw you, I knew your desire. Your need. I felt you wanting me. Not your boring little Emma. Me.”
“Shut up,” Julian said.
“No, please, keep going,” Emma snapped. “Embarrass yourself a little more.”
“Julian. I know you. You’re a planner, a commander, a calculator.
” Thule Emma pressed herself closer to Jules.
“You love to direct things. To be where the action is. I can feel it in you. Your potential. Why else would she”—she jerked her head in Emma’s direction—“keep you bridled as she does, if she weren’t afraid of who you could become?
Of who a man like you might really want. ”
Julian looked disgusted. “I’m not your Julian,” he said. “You don’t know me.”
“I could feel how you wanted me, on the dance floor,” murmured the Other Emma, and the real Emma, though she knew it was a lie, felt sick.
She saw Thule Emma look over at her, her bloodless lips curved into a gloating smile.
“They keep secrets from us so well, don’t they?
” she said. “Can you be sure he’s not keeping another? ”
Emma wondered if, going forward, she would ever be able to look in a mirror without smashing a fist through the reflection.
“You realize you can’t win, don’t you?” Thule Emma had turned back to Julian. “I’m like you, but better. All that bullshit about the Law and righteousness, it’s made you weak.”
“Yeah, yeah, rules are for suckers and love is a lie. Once you get demon-possessed, you Endarkened are so boring.” Julian brought his seraph blade up, the brilliant tip of it against the Other Emma’s throat. “Turn around. Slowly.”
Emma’s mind buzzed with relief. Julian would bind her hands. They’d take her back to the Institute. Maybe call Alec. This seemed like an issue they’d need to involve the Clave in. And it would get her away from the Other Emma.
Thule Emma began to turn, her eyes level with Julian’s.
Julian stared her down, his mouth a hard line.
Which was a mistake, Emma realized a split second later, because it meant Julian didn’t see the Other Emma grab the handle of the balisong and jerk the blade free from her leg.
A second later, she had jammed the knife into Julian’s side.
Emma’s mind seemed to switch off. There was a pulsing blackness in front of her eyes as Julian collapsed to the bathroom floor, the seraph blade skittering out of his hand. A pulsing that drove her forward, Cortana sweeping ahead of her as she advanced on the Other Emma.
Who was grinning at her. Her teeth were scarlet-stained with blood, her smile a mockery. Emma barely registered it. She raised Cortana, brought it down hard. Justice, not mercy.
But Other Emma darted beneath the sweeping blade, quick as a flame.
She grabbed the unicorn poster from the wall—revealing a blacked-out window she must have known was there.
She threw the frame at Emma, who ducked easily out of the way, Cortana already slashing for a second attack.
It was like the sword was guiding Emma’s hand—
Thule Emma leapt almost straight up, over the blade, grabbing at a ceiling ventilation pipe, hauling herself up despite her wounded leg. She swung and kicked at the window, smashing out the glass; Emma ducked away from the rain of shards.
Thule Emma swung, landed on the windowsill, glared back over her shoulder. Bared her teeth at Emma. “Your Julian killed the only thing in the world that mattered to me,” she said. “So I’m going to kill you—and make him watch.”
Emma lunged, Cortana singing out for blood, but her doppelg?nger had already disappeared into the night.
—
It was terrifying sometimes, to love another person as much as Emma loved Julian. It felt blinding, desperate, especially when he was in danger.
The moment Thule Emma was gone, Emma swung around, her heartbeat slamming in her ears, and threw herself at Julian.
He was on the ground, but, to her incredible relief, not unconscious.
She kept seeing the balisong go into him, seeing him fall, but he was Julian, and determined.
He’d pulled the balisong out and was up on his elbows, stele in his shaking hand.
His jacket had fallen open, and Emma could see where the T-shirt under it was soaked along his right side with blood.
She dropped to her knees beside him, plucking the stele out of his grip. He let his head fall back, looking up at her, his eyes darkened to blue-black. “It’s—not as bad as it looks,” he said, his voice pain-tightened. “The gear jacket stopped a lot of the blade’s force.”
“Hush,” Emma said softly. “Let me do this.”
He watched her from beneath lowered lids as she set Cortana down, and took hold of the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up, baring his bloody torso.
The sight was like a blade going into Emma’s own side; she caught her breath in pain and began to draw a healing rune, then another, and another, until Julian said, in a much more normal voice, “That tickles.”
Even though they were no longer parabatai, the healing runes had worked quickly.
Emma grabbed a handful of paper towels and began doing what she could to mop the blood off Jules’s skin with the thin, scratchy material, but it was a lost cause.
At least she could see that the wound was gone, just a faint white line remaining where the balisong had cut him.
Another white line like so many others, souvenirs of a life lived in battle.
Eventually he grabbed her wrist and sat up. “Emma,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m okay. And those paper towels suck,” he added. “I bet they buy the cheap ones.”