The Evil We Love (Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy Book 5) Read Online Free PDF

credit.”
    “How would you know?” Beatriz asked. Simon was surprised by her tone. Usually, she was the quietest among them, always willing to go with the flow. But there was an edge in her voice now, something that reminded him that, gentle as she seemed, she was a born warrior. “It’s not like you went here.”
    “I come from a long line of Academy graduates,” Isabelle said. “I know what I need to know.”
    “We’re not all interested in following in your father’s footsteps,” Beatriz said, then stood up and walked out of the room.
    There was silence in her wake, everyone tensely waiting for Isabelle to react.
    Her smile didn’t waver, but Simon could feel the heat radiating from her and understood it was taking a great deal of energy for her not to explode—or collapse. He didn’t know which it would be; he didn’t know how she felt about her father once being one of Valentine’s men. He didn’t know anything about her, not really. He admitted that.
    But he still wanted to scoop her into his arms and hold her until the storm passed.
    “No one has ever accused my father of being fun,” Isabelle said flatly. “But I assume my reputation precedes me. If you meet me here at midnight tomorrow, I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.” She took Jon’s hand in her own and allowed him to pull her off the couch. “Now. Will you show me to my room? This place is simply impossible to navigate.”
    “My pleasure,” Jon said, winking at Simon.
    Then they were gone.
    Together.
    *   *   *
    The next morning the hall echoed with yawning and the groan of hangovers in (fruitless) search of grease and coffee. As Robert Lightwood launched into his second lecture, some tedious disquisition on the nature of evil and a point-by-point analysis of Valentine’s critique of the Accords, Simon had to keep pinching himself awake. Robert Lightwood was possibly the only person on the planet who could make the story of the Circle drop-dead boring. It didn’t help that Simon had stayed up till dawn, tossing and turning on the lumpy mattress, trying to drive nightmare images of Isabelle and Jon out of his head.
    There was something going on with her, Simon was sure of it. Maybe it wasn’t about him—maybe it was about her father or some residual homeschooling issues or just some girl thing he couldn’t fathom, but she wasn’t acting like herself.
    She’s not your girlfriend , he kept reminding himself. Even if something was wrong, it was no longer his job to fix it. She can do what she wants .
    And if what she wanted was Jon Cartwright, then obviously she wasn’t worth losing a night of sleep over in the first place.
    By sunrise he’d almost managed to convince himself of this. But there she was again, up onstage beside her father, her fierce and fiercely intelligent gaze evoking all those annoying feelings again.
    They weren’t memories, exactly. Simon couldn’t have named a single movie they watched together; he didn’t know any of Isabelle’s favorite foods or inside jokes; he didn’t know what it felt like to kiss her or twine his fingers with hers. What he felt whenever he looked at her was deeper than that, dwelling in some nether region of his mind. He felt like he knew her, inside and out. He felt like he had Superman vision and could x-ray her soul. He felt sorrow and loss and joy and confusion; he felt a cavemanlike urge to slaughter a wild boar and lay it at her feet; he felt the need to do something extraordinary and the belief that, in her presence, he could.
    He felt something he’d never felt before—but he had a sinking sensation that he recognized it anyway.
    He was pretty sure he felt like he was in love.
    *   *   *
    1984
    Valentine made it easy for them. He’d induced permission from the dean for an “educational” camping trip in Brocelind Forest—two days and nights free to do as they pleased, as long as it resulted in a few scribbled pages on the curative powers of wild