So…I'm a definite Clary/Jace shipper. And I really don't care if they end up really being related- even though I'm pretty positive there is going to be some type of twist in the third book that they aren't brother and sister. Anyways…enjoy and review!
If this gets a decent response I'll write more :-)
PS: I don't own the mortal instruments.
FIX YOU: Chapter One
"Come on Clary, pick up!" Jace all but growled into the tiny silver phone. His frustration only increased with each ring, and with the sound of her voice, chiming the familiar message of her answering machine.
"Hey, this is Clary…I'm not here right now but if you leave a…"
"Hey Clary, have you seen my converse? I think I-"
"Yeah Simon- under the couch. Um, well just leave me a message. Bye."
He had called her five other times, hell- he had even tried calling the mundane to see if he knew where she was- and each time she hadn't picked up. He threw the phone against the wall, feeling a little satisfaction as the screen cracked in two, and buried his head in his hands.
There were very few times when he had felt truly helpless, and this was one of them.
Only a few minutes earlier he had received Clary's call.
He remembered stepping out from the shower, his muscles still tense from a long day of training, the cloud of steam slightly obscuring his vision, and picking up the phone only to hear her panicked voice,
"Jace! Help please! I'm-"
Then the line went dead. He had no idea where she was, what was happening, but she so small, so delicate- even a mere human would pose a serious threat, much less a demon. Now he was alone at the institute, with no idea of what to do, but a rising sense of anxiety.
With his head buried beneath his palms, his heart threatening to pound straight out of his chest, he struggled to think of where she could possibly be. She was Clary, the tiny redhead with glowing eyes and a fiery temper, his little sister, and the only girl that he had ever loved, even when he didn't think he was capable of love. If anything happened to her he would never forgive himself.
Just as he was about to run out and blindly search for her, he remembered that she had been talking with Isabelle earlier that very day. Saying something about a club- god what was it called? Some type of color, very girly sounding…Pink? Rose? No it started with a B...
Suddenly something clicked and he knew where she was. He grabbed a black shirt and his belt, the one with three angel blades and a seraph sword, and rushed out to the roof where his bike was stored away. It took less than a second to start, and he barely noticed the cold night air whipping past his face. There was only room for one thing in his mind, and that was Clary.
The East river glittered like black ice, the towering buildings casting shadows of light against its rippled surface. He soared clear past the bridge, far above the crowded streets, finally alighting at a large building. A long line stretched around the corner, its occupants scantily clad in glittering minidresses and jewel bright shirts, the men shifting anxiously, smoothing back their overly gelled hair.
He had no taste for places like this, and as he spotted the neon pink sign with the club's name, Blush, his dislike only intensified. Parking the bike on the roof, he scaled the brick wall, landing in a back alley behind the club. Without a second thought he rammed through the back door, barely noticing the sharp pain that shot through his shoulder.
She was there. Pinned against a wall, her pale skin covered in bruises and scrapes. At first he thought that it was a man, a filthy mundane trying to touch her, his Clary, and blood boiled beneath his skin. Then he saw that it was not a human, but a red haired demon, his claws wrapped vice-like around her neck.
With a catlike leap he sprung towards the demon, pulling him away from Clary and slicing it cleanly in two with his sword. Black blood covered him, but he barely noticed. Clary was still against the wall, slumped on the floor and not moving.
After three hours of preparation, no torture, being all but tied up with rope as Isabelle fixed her hair and makeup, then insisted that she squeeze into an impossibly tight dress, Clary stood in front of the mirror unsure if she really was the person reflected in its smooth surface.
Armed with a plethora of products and a straightening iron, her normally curly, almost frizzy red hair had been tamed. It hung smoothly past her bare shoulders, gleaming in the dim lamplight. The makeup was minimal, her charcoal rimmed eyes shining greener than normal, and she actually liked the dress that Isabelle had picked out. It was a violet color, strapless, with dark grey tights and dangerous-looking high heels. A light necklace with tiny golden bells hung about her neck, chiming softly with each of her movements.
"The cab is here, hurry up!" Isabelle shouted loudly. Clary grabbed her purse and rushed outside where Isabelle was already waiting.
As normal she was impossibly beautiful, sparking with the kind of glamour that exuded confidence and made Clary feel like a child. While everything about Jace reminded her of the sun- his bright hair, pale gold skin and tawny eyes- Isabelle was like a goddess of the moon. Her Inky black hair was long and slightly curled and her pale skin shone almost silver in the dim light. She was even wearing a silver dress, made from some type of silky material, and knee high leather boots.
She nearly tripped a dozen times on the way down the sidewalk, then clumsily climbed into the waiting cab. There was some club that Isabelle had decided to drag her to, insisting that they needed a girl's night out.
While she wasn't exactly warm towards her, she understood that even Isabelle needed to escape from the testosterone laden institute, and that she enjoyed having another girl her age as her personal life-size Barbie doll.
They made their way into Blush without a second's wait, and Clary almost felt bad as Isabelle stunned the bouncer, leaving him nearly speechless. Inside the club was flooded with columns of smoke and the pounding beat of music. Throngs of people seemed to vibrate beneath the lights, beads of slick perspiration sparkling against their skin.
She felt a little nervous with the fake ID. While the added makeup made Isabelle appear years older than her actual age, Clary felt like a little girl that had snuck into her mother's makeup drawer. She was shocked as they accepted the card without question, passing each of them a glass sickeningly sweet, pink tinted liquid that burned her throat.
Isabelle wasted no time making her way to the dance floor, and was already moving with an impossible grace. More than a few men were watching her with clouded eyes, obviously intimidated but entranced by her beauty, when a very drunk couple bumped against Clary, spilling her drink on the edge of her dress.
"Sorry love, didn't see you there…" the man slurred, smoothing back his oily black hair. His date only clutched his arm and giggled as they made their way past her.
She really didn't like places like this- it was the type of club that was impossibly tacky and bright, and she struggled to make her way through the crowd, looking for a bathroom. She finally found a black door against the far wall and made her way into a dark room.
This obviously wasn't a bathroom. She turned to open the door but it was locked, and next to a pile of dusty boxes there was a demon, crouched over a dead girl and covered in shining blood.
Her heart almost pounded out of her chest. She didn't have any weapons on her. She didn't even have her steele. And Isabelle hadn't brought her phone. She ducked behind a mountain of electrical wires, fumbling nervously as she pulled out the tiny silver device and pressed dial for the last number she had called, knowing he was the only one that could help her.
"Jace! Help please! I'm-"
At that moment the demon swung at her, sending the phone flying into the brick wall with a crash.
"Well what do we have here? Two in one night…my, my… this is a treat." The demon hissed in pleasure, his lips curling upwards to reveal a row of sharp teeth.
As if it was instinct, she remembered her hours of shadowhunter training with Jace, and her leg swung out, knocking the demon off its feet. She leapt past him, stumbling as her foot tangled in one of the wires, and tried to sprint towards the door, but the demon recovered quickly, tackling her to the ground.
"Just for that, I'll make sure that this is slow-" he growled, raking his claws across her shoulder, and a scream escaped her lips, "- and painful." He finished, smiling cruelly.
She heard a loud crack and pain shot through her leg as she was flung against the door, but it wasn't over. She felt his talons ripping through her skin and she smelled the sharp tang of blood.
Tired of playing, the demon pulled her up against the wall, its claws wrapped around her neck. She struggled to breathe and its grip only tightened, choking her violently. There was no air, no light. Her eyes were squeezed shut in pain, and there was a shadow creeping at the edge of her mind, turning everything dark.
She was dying. Really dying. And no one could hear her scream. No one would save her. Even Jace wouldn't be able to help her- he had no idea where she was.
She didn't think about the pain. Instead her mind filled with thoughts: worries that she had never said goodbye to her mother, pain that she would never see Simon again, and most of all she felt the sharp pain of regret.
Regret that she had never told him what she really wanted. That she loved him. That she didn't care what anyone thought and she needed him- more than water or even air she couldn't live without him.
With these last thoughts everything grew dark. There was a tiny pinprick of light, growing steadily larger, and then she knew.
The pain had disappeared and there was the most wonderful noise- it was him- an angel, crying out her name, and she knew for sure that she was dead.
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