The Tenebrous Weapons

Stacey was quickly growing bored with Zayn Malik. He originally had such a sense of intense bravado, an aura about him that radiated how great of a fighter he thought he was, and originally, it had given Stacey a kind of rush. It had been quite a while since she’d fought someone that had her ability with close combat, and she’d read his personality and wrongfully thought that he had a sensible outlook on himself.

After a few ass-whoopings, which she hoped would motivate him, he ended up pouting and complaining about her to Louis when he was under the impression Stacey couldn’t hear him. Which, of course, she could, because she wasn’t deaf.

Stacey wanted to confront Zayn on the issue, but she didn’t want to come on too strong. She’d been told one too many times in her life (by her mother, mostly) that she was a powerful personality that could easily scare people away, and if she was going to stay living in the London Institute, then she was going to have to tone down the death glares and pretend to be pleasant once in a while.

Thankfully, being pleasant to Louis was much easier than she’d anticipated. He was the kind of laid-back personality that was easy to get along with, and she found herself falling into step with his humor and quick wit like second nature.

She was in her room in the Institute late one night, reading one of the books she’d brought with her from France. Reading in her native language gave her a small sense of comfort, being so far away from home. Not that she’d ever admit that she needed comforting to anyone.

She was in the middle of a particularly intense scene when she heard a knock at her door. Part of her wanted to yell at the unknown person to go away, but figuring that it could be Tricia or her husband, whom Stacey had not yet seen because he went to Idris for a top-secret errand, she decided to get to her feet and answer the call.

But the figure standing behind the door was neither Tricia nor her husband, but the bright Louis Tomlinson, who looked like a young child who’d just been gifted an entire bag of candy. “Hi!” he greeted enthusiastically, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Hello,” Stacey responded, feeling herself relax knowing that she didn’t have to force any laughter or smiles, but she was still confused as to why Louis would journey to her room so late at night. “Can I help you?”

“Can I come in?”

Stacey nodded and stepped out of the way. If she had been more bashful, maybe she would have blushed at the prospect of a boy entering her room, a place that was supposed to be a private place for her. But she’d long since passed the barrier of being uncomfortable around boys.

“So, I don’t know if you thought you were being sneaky, but it’s pretty obvious that you haven’t been training much with Zayn. His father demanded that he train you, you know.”

“I’m in no need of training,” Stacey replied smoothly, setting herself down on her bed and looking up at Louis. “I’m a better fighter than he is.”

“My cat is a better fighter than he is, though he’d never admit it,” Louis chuckled. “Anyway, I’m here to ask you if you’d want to train with me, instead. I’m not going to stand here and claim that I’m a better fighter than you, though I am better than Zayn, but the option’s there if you want it.”

The brunette girl mulled over the suggestion for a second before shaking her head. “As kind as that is, I’m going to stick to Zayn. I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“If that’s what you want.” He shrugged. “I just figured I’d offer.”

“I’m going to have more fun beating him up than beating you up.”

The second the statement was out of her mouth, Stacey felt herself clam up. She’d been too coarse without meaning to, and she wished more than anything that she’d just think before she spoke sometimes.

But, to her utter shock, Louis laughed, his eyes getting tiny crinkles in the corner to show that his amusement was real. “I’m not going to argue with that. Alright, I’ll leave you to your reading. See you at breakfast in the morning.”

Stacey bid him goodnight in return as he made his way back out the hallway, pulling the door behind him quietly, even though no one occupied the rooms around her. The boys had rooms down the hall, just to avoid any possible awkward encounters.

Once Louis was so far down the hallway that Stacey could no longer hear his footsteps, she settled back into her lying position, balancing her book on her knees as she began to fall back into the words and plot, the world around her falling away into the background.



“I find it hard to believe,” Zayn breathed harshly as Stacey’s fist connected with his solar plexus, “that you’re really as funny as Louis says you are.”

Stacey narrowed her eyes as she straightened back up, wiping a stray strand of hair out of her face that had escaped from the messy bun she’d constrained her hair in that morning. “You just don’t make me feel like cracking jokes.”

“That’s weird. Louis says I’m great inspiration.” The statement could have been taken for a joke, but Zayn said it so plainly and seriously that Stacey felt it would have been rude to do so much as smile.

“Well, you certainly are funny-looking, if that’s what Louis means.” Stacey swallowed and started forward, her hands up, to show that she was ready to fight again. Anything to hide the fact that she was lying. She may not have liked Zayn very much, but anyone who laid eyes on him could tell that he was much more attractive than the average mundane or Shadowhunter.

“You are just too kind to me,” he replied with a biting sarcasm before grunting as Stacey’s elbow connected solidly with his chest. “Now why don’t you shut up and practice with the throwing daggers?”

Stacey backed off and opened her mouth to start warning him, “But I don’t-”

“Let me guess.” Zayn whipped around with a new anger in his eyes, and Stacey almost laughed at his potent frustration. “You don’t need any practice with throwing daggers because you’re just incredibly talented at everything ever invented, right?”

The young Shadowhunter girl stayed quiet for a second as Zayn breathed heavily to try to control the adrenaline that was surely pounding through his veins. Then, once he’d calmed down a bit, Stacey said, “Actually, I’ve heard that I’m not very good at golf.”

“I can’t believe you.” His words were a huff of irritation as he bent down and grabbed a handful of daggers. “If you’re so good at these, show me.”

For a second, just a split second, Stacey thought about giving him a break. About throwing the daggers in random directions to make him feel better and like he was actually teaching someone something.

But then she decided against it and threw them with pinpoint precision, stuffing all three in the tiny bullseye. The time for comforting was long gone, and if he really wanted comfort, Stacey decided, then wasn’t it good to know that the new addition to his team could kick ass five times better than he could?

Stacey almost expected Zayn to say something rude or demeaning as he made his way toward the target, but he just let out a long sigh and shook his head.

“Time for lunch?” Stacey suggested, and Zayn agreed easily enough. He was probably desperate to get somewhere, anywhere, other than the training room for a little while.