Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick


I gave him a hard look.

Stepping away from the plate, I took a few more practice swings. I almost missed Elliot coming up behind me. He reached his arms around me and positioned his hands on the bat, flush with mine.
“Let me show you,” he said in my ear. “Like this. Feel that?Relax. Now pivot your hips- it’s all in the hips.”

I could feel my face heat up with the eyes of the entire class on us. “I think I’ve got it, thanks.”

“Get a room!” Marcie called to us. The infield laughed.

“If you’d throw her a decent pitch,” Elliot called back, “she’d hit the ball.”

“My pitch is on.”

“Her swing is on.” Elliot dropped his voice, speaking to me alone. “You lose neye contact the minute she lets go of the ball. Her pitches aren’t clean, so you’re going to have to work to get them.”

“We’re holding up the game here, people!” Miss Sully called out.

Just then, something in the parking lot beyond the dugout drew my attention. I thought I`d heard my name called. I turned, but even as I did, I knew my name hadn’t been said out loud. It had been spoken quietly to my mind.


Patch wore a faded blue baseball cap and had his fingers hooked in the chain-like fence, leaning against it. No coat, despite the weather. Just head-to-toe black. His eyes were opaque and inaccessible as he watched me, but I suspected there was a lot going on behind them.

Another string of words crept into my mind.

Batting lessons? Nice. . . touch. 

I drew a steadying breathe and told myself I imagined the words. Because the alternative was considering that Patch had power to channel thoughts into my mind. Which couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. Unless I was delusional. That scared m,e more than the idea that he had breached normal communication methods and could, at will, speak to me without ever opening his mouth.

“Grey! Head in the game!”

I blinked, jerking to life just in time tp see the ball rolling through the air toward me. I started to swing, then heard another trickle of words.

Not. . . yet.

I held back, waiting for the ball to come to me. As it descended, I stepped toward the front of the plate. I swung with everything I had.
A huge crack sounded, and the bat vibrated in my hands. The ball drove to Marcie, who fell flat on her backside. Squeezing between shortstop and second base, the ball bounced in the outfield grass.

“Run!” my team shouted from the dugout. “Run, Nora!”

I ran.


-Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick.
Pages 85-87.

Image result for hush hush book and author The author.



The Mortal Instruments- City of Bones by Cassandra Clare




“Magnus Bane? But- that’s not even a name!”

It is enough. Brother Jeremiah got to his feet. As if this were a signal, the rest of the brothers rose alongside him. They inclined their heads toward Jace, a gesture of silent acknowledgement, before they filed away among the pillars and were gone. Only Brother Jeremiah remained. He watched impassively as Jace hurried over to Clary.

“Is your arm alright? Let me see,” he demanded, seizing her wrist.

“Ouch! It’s fine. Don’t do that, you’re making it worse,” Clary said, trying to pull away.

“You bled on the Speaking Stars,” he said. Clary looked and saw that he was right: There was a smear of her blood on the white and silver marble. “I bet there’s a law somewhere about that.” He turned her arm over, more gently than she would have thought he was capable of. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and whistled; she glanced down and saw that a glove of blood covered her lower arm from the elbow to the wrist. The arm was throbbing, stiff and painful.

“Is this where you start tearing piece of your T-shirt to bind up my wounds?” she joked. She hated the sight of blood, especially her own.

“If you wanted me to rip my clothes off, you should’ve just asked.” He dug into his pocket and brought out his stele. “It would have been a lot less painful”.

Remembering the stinging sensation when the stele had touched her wrist, she braced herself, but all she felt as the glowing instrument glided lightly over her injury was a faint warmth. “There,” he said, straightening up. Clary flexed her arm in wonder- though the blood was still there, the wound was gone, as were the pain and stiffness. “And next time you’re planning to injure yourself to get my attention, just remember that a little sweet talk works wonders.”

Clary felt her mouth twitch into a smile. “I`ll keep that in mind,” she said and as he turned away, she added, “And thanks.”

He slid the stele into his back pocket without turning to look at her, but she thought she saw a certain gratification in the set of his shoulders. “Brother Jeremiah” he said, rubbing his hands together, “you’ve been very quiet all this time. Sure you have some thought you’d like to share?”

I am charged with leading you from the Silent City, and that is all, said the archivist. Clary wondered if she were imaging it, or if there was actually a faintly affronted tone to his “voice”.

“We could always show ourselves out,” Jace suggested hopefully. “I`m remember the way-”

The marvels of the Silent City are not for the eyes of the uninitiated, said Jeremiah, and turned his back on them with a soundless swish of robes. This way.

When they emerged into the open, Clary took deep breaths of the thick morning air, the city stench of smog, dirt, and humanity. Jace looked around thoughtfully. “It’s going to rain,” he said.

He was right, Clary thought, looking up at the iron-gray sky. “Are we taking a carriage back to the institute?”

Jace looked from Brother Jeremiah, still as a statue, to the carriage, looming like a black shadow in the archway that led to the street. The he broke into a grin.

“No way,” he said. “I hate those things. Let’s hail a cab.”


Page 197,198.
The Mortal Instruments – city of bones Book 1.
Cassandra Clare.