“Please. I’ve taught at Shadowhunter Academy. I —” Catarina began to cough, her shoulders shaking. Her eyes widened in alarm.
Cristina slid out of bed, alarmed. “Are you all right —?”
But Catarina had vanished. There wasn’t even a swirl of air to show where her Projection had been.
Cristina hastily threw on her clothes: jeans, an old t-shirt. She wished with all her heart that Emma was here, that they could talk about last night, that Emma could give her advice and a shoulder to cry on.
But she wasn’t. Cristina touched her necklace, whispered a quick prayer to the Angel, and headed down the hall to Mark’s room.
He’d been up as late as she was, so there was a high possibility he was still sleeping. She knocked on the door hesitantly and then harder; finally Mark threw it open, yawning and stark naked.
“Híjole!” Cristina shrieked, and pulled her t-shirt collar up over her face.”Put your pants on!”
“Sorry,” he he called, ducking behind the door. “At least you’ve already seen it all.”