The Lost Herondale Read Online Free PDF Page B

shadow, was a different story. The game no longer felt rigged in their favor—it no longer felt like much of a game at all.
    The students split up into pairs, prowling through the darkness. Simon volunteered to guard one of the exits, hoping very much that this would prove similar to those gym class soccer games, where he’d spent hours guarding the goal and only a handful of times had to fend off a well-aimed kick.
    Of course, each of those times, the ball had sailed over his head and into the net, losing the game for his team. But he tried not to think about that.
    Jon Cartwright was stationed at the door beside him, a witchlight stone glowing in his hand. Time passed; they did their best to ignore each other.
    “Too bad you can’t use one of these,” Jon said finally, holding up the stone. “Or one of these.” He tapped the seraph blade hanging from his belt. The students hadn’t been taught how to fight with them yet, but several of the Shadowhunter kids had brought their own weapons from home. “Don’t worry, hero. If the vamp shows up, I’m here to protect you.”
    “Great, I can hide behind your massive ego.”
    Jon wheeled on him. “You want to watch yourself, mundane. If you’re not careful, you’ll . . .” Jon’s voice trailed off. He backed up until he was pressed against the wall.
    “I’ll what?” Simon prompted him.
    Jon made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. His hand floundered at his belt, fingers stretching for the seraph blade but coming nowhere near it. His eyes were riveted on a spot just over Simon’s shoulder. “Do something!” he squeaked. “She’s going to get us!”
    Simon had seen enough horror movies to get the picture. And the picture was enough to make him want to bolt for the door, slip through it into the daylight, and keep running until he was back home, doors locked, safely under the bed, where he’d once hidden from imaginary monsters.
    Instead, slowly, he turned around.
    The girl who melted out of the shadows looked to be about his age. Her brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, her glasses were dark pink and horn-rimmed vintage, and her T-shirt featured a bloody, crimson-shirted Star Trek officer and read, LIVE FAST, DIE RED . She was, in other words, exactly Simon’s type—except for the fangs glinting in his flashlight beam and the inhuman speed with which she streaked across the room and kicked Jon Cartwright in the head. He crumpled to the ground.
    “And then there were two,” the girl said, and smirked.
    It had never occurred to Simon that the vampire would be his age, or at least look it.
    “You want to be careful with that thing, Daylighter,” she said. “I hear you’re alive again. Presumably you want to keep it that way.”
    Simon looked down to realize he had taken the dagger into his hand.
    “You going to let me out of here, or what?” she asked.
    “You can’t go out there.”
    “No?”
    “Sunshine, remember? Makes vampires go poof?” Simon couldn’t believe his voice wasn’t shaking. Honestly, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t peed his pants. He was alone with a vampire . A cute, girl vampire . . . that he was supposed to kill. Somehow.
    “Check your watch, Daylighter.”
    “I don’t wear a watch,” Simon said. “And I’m not a Daylighter anymore.”
    She stepped closer to him, close enough to stroke his face. Her finger was cold, her skin as smooth as marble. “Is it true you don’t remember?” she said, peering curiously at him. “You don’t even remember me?”
    “Did I . . . do I know you?”
    She brushed her fingertips across her lips. “The question is, how well did you know me, Daylighter? I’ll never tell.”
    Clary and the others had said nothing about Simon having vampire friends, or . . . more-than-friends. Maybe they’d wanted to spare him the details of that part of his life, the part where he’d thirsted for blood and walked in the shadows. Maybe he’d been so