Welcome to Shadowhunter Academy by Cassandra Clare, Sarah Rees Brennan Read Free Book Online

remembered breathing, his heart beating, Shadowhunters watching him. He’d still been human then, a mundane they all despised, but he’d killed a demon. He remembered: He’d seen something had to be done, and he’d done it.
    A guy not so different from who he was now.
    Simon felt a smile spread across his face, hurting his cheeks. “Yeah. I think I can.”
    Julie and Jon were both much more friendly over dinner than they had been for the last few days. Simon told them about killing the demon, what he remembered, and Jon offered to teach him some swordplay tricks.
    “I would really love to hear more about your adventures,” said Julie. “Whatever you can remember. Especially if they involve Jace Herondale. Do you know how he got that sexy scar on his throat?”
    “Ah,” said Simon. “Actually . . . yes. Actually . . . that was me.”
    Everybody stared at him.
    “I might have bitten him. A tiny bit. It was more like a nibble, really.”
    “Was he delicious?” asked Julie, after a thoughtful pause. “He looks like he would be delicious.”
    “Um,” said Simon. “He’s not a juice box.”
    Beatriz nodded earnestly. Both the girls seemed very interested in this discussion. Too interested. Their eyes were glazed.
    “Did you maybe climb on top of him slowly and then lower your head to his tender, pulsing throat?” Beatriz said. “Could you feel the heat radiating off his body and into yours?”
    “Did you lick his throat before you bit him?” Julie asked. “Oh, and did you get a chance to feel his biceps?” She shrugged. “I’m just curious about, you know, vampire techniques.”
    “I imagine Simon was both gentle and commanding during his special moment with Jace,” said Beatriz dreamily. “I mean, it was special, wasn’t it?”
    “No!” said Simon. “I can’t stress that enough. I’ve bitten several Shadowhunters. I bit Isabelle Lightwood and Alec Lightwood; biting Jace was not a tender and unique moment!”
    “You bit Isabelle and Alec Lightwood?!” asked Julie, who was starting to sound freaked-out. “What did the Lightwoods ever do to you?”
    “Wow,” said George. “I imagined the demon realms were fearsome and terrifying, but seems like it was pretty much nonstop nom nom nom.”
    “That is not how it was!” Simon said.
    “Can we stop talking about this?” Jon demanded, his voice sharp. “I’m sure you all did what you had to do, but the idea of Shadowhunters being prey for a Downworlder is disgusting.”
    Simon did not love the way Jon said “Downworlder,” as if the words “Downworlder” and “disgusting” were more or less the same thing. But maybe it was natural for Jon to be disturbed. Simon could remember being disturbed about it himself. Simon hadn’t wanted to make his friends into his prey, either.
    Today had gone pretty well. Simon didn’t want to ruin it. He decided he was in a good enough mood to let it go.
    Simon felt better about the Academy until that night, when he woke from a doze to a deluge of memory.
    The memories hit like that sometimes, not in sharp tiny jabs but in an insistent and terrible cascade. He had thought of his former roommate before. He’d known he’d had a friend, a roommate, named Jordan, and that Jordan had been killed. But he hadn’t recalled the feelings of it—the way Jordan had taken him in when his mother had barred her door, talking about Maia with Jordan, hearing Clary laugh that Jordan was cute, talking to Jordan, patient and kind and always seeing Simon as more than a job, more than a vampire. He remembered seeing Jordan and Jace snarl at each other and then play video games like idiots, and Jordan finding him sleeping in a garage, and Jordan looking at Maia with such regret.
    And he remembered holding Jordan’s Praetor Lupus pendant in his hands, in Idris, after Jordan was dead. Simon had held that pendant again since then, once he had regained some of his memories, feeling the weight of it and wondering what the Latin