Author's note: I've finished chapter one. Yay to small victories! This is the first story I have ever posted, so I am very nervous about how you all are going to like it (or not like it). I've had this story in my head for a while now, but never "got it down on paper" so to speak. I think there are some improvements to be made (this is my second draft) and I intend on doing more editing in the future. If anyone has suggestions, I'm open to constructive criticism!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or its characters.
At the age of eight, Serena's mother decided to pay a visit the new neighbor who had just moved to town. She was a middle-aged woman and her dress was exactly as Serena imagined a hermit cat lady would look. Her glasses were thick and magnified her eyes to twice their size and her hair was a mass of thick curls the color of ashes. Admittedly, Mrs. Pendle didn't have any cats and she was quite friendly. When introduced to Serena, the keen-eyed woman half crouched with her hands on her knees and examined the shy little girl clutching her mother's hand. "Well, aren't you just the most adorable little thing. Why, I bet when you grow up, all the boys will be falling at your feet." Serena couldn't help but giggle, though her new neighbor turned out to be right.
Now, at the age of 17, Serena was positively gorgeous. Her hair was raven black, traveling down to the small of her back. Her skin was lightly tanned and unblemished. Only slightly above average height, her figure was slim with curves in all the right places. Her lips were full, lush and seemed quick to curve into a smile. But it was her eyes that were the most striking feature: long lashes framing violet irises that changed with her mood.
Yes, boys did fall at her feet, often vying for her attention, but Serena doubted that Mrs. Pendle could have anticipated that one day a boy would literally fall – from the sky – at her feet. Yet that is exactly what happened one night while Serena was out in the forest that surrounded her current lodgings. She was sitting in the middle of a clearing, on the stump of a tree long since cut down. She spent hours gazing up at the night sky fantasizing about the future. Wondering what it could have been like if things had been different. She was gathering her things – a book, a plate with a half-eaten sandwich, a bottle of water, and a camera – into a picnic basket, when the boy dropped with a loud thud directly in front of her.
"AAAHHH." She jumped so violently she almost fell off the stump. Leaping to her feet, she seized the leather bound book out of the basket, gripping it with both hands and pulled it back over her shoulder ready to swing it forward….but the boy didn't move. He lay on his side; his back to her, so she could not see his face. Serena stood - frozen, anxious - looking for any sign of movement, of attack…still nothing.
Hesitantly, Serena relaxed her grip on her makeshift weapon, and slowly lowered it back into the basket. Crouching beside him, Serena tentatively reached out to roll the boy, apparently unconscious, onto his back and discovered there was a pool of dark red forming on his chest. Frantically, she searched for a wound. She couldn't find any tear in his clothing, so she undid his shirt. There! In the center of his chest, a large gash approximately four inches long. Very gently, she used his shirt to wipe away the blood to get a better look at it. She frowned. It was a deep stab wound, she noted with worry.
She glanced around the clearing, contemplating what to do. He needed help fast, no question. He was too heavy for her to carry on her own. She could leave him and seek help…..but there was no one close enough; he would be dead before she got back. She let out a shaky breath. Only one option then, she thought. She didn't like it. She had never taken another person with her before and she wasn't certain that with his wounds he would survive it. No choice, she reminded herself. Leaning down, she slipped her arms under his shoulders and lifted him up so his head was cradled on her shoulder, his forehead resting against her neck. She touched her left hand and they vanished.
They materialized in her house, in the kitchen by the island. Serena gentle lowered the boy to the floor and sprung up, tossing the picnic basket off to the side, to fetch her medicine kit from a cabinet under the kitchen counter. Kneeling down beside the boy again Serena opened the kit and selected one of the vials. Unscrewing the dropper, Serena pushed down on his chin to open his mouth. She squeezed three drops onto his tongue. The effect was immediate. The blood pumping out of his chest wound slowed. Swiftly, she replaced the vial and pulled out a length of bandage. She was about to press the cloth to the wound when she saw what she didn't in the dark.
Mixed in and swirling in the blood was an orange liquid. Serena snatched an empty jar from the kit and a fresh dropper. Collecting some of the blood and mystery liquid in the jar Serena held it up to the light looking up at is from the bottom. It looks like…liquid fire. As Serena examined it, she could see the blood in the jar was slowly being consumed by the orange substance. With a frown Serena set the jar aside. Fatal wound first, Rena. Picking out yet another jar, this one filled with a purple fluid, Serena uncorked it. After inserting a tube down into the wound and attaching a small funnel, she slowly tipped the contents of the jar into the funnel letting it trickle down the tube while slowly pulling the tube out as she poured. When the tube was pulled out completely Serena cleaned and bandaged the wound.
Serena didn't bother to stitch him up. The first potion she gave him slowed his blood flow. The second would heal and close the stab wound in about a half hour. Now that the boy was in no immediate danger of dying, Serena settle back against the kitchen island cabinets. She picked up the jar of mystery liquid she had set aside, thinking. Liquid fire. A stab wound in the chest. A fire sword? The description sounded familiar. Serena tapped her middle finger on the side of the jar. If it's consuming his blood….
Now that she had a light to go by, Serena pulled a flat bottomed round crystal from her pocket and placed it on the boy's shoulder. She watched as a cloud of color bloomed from the center of the clear crystal and settle into three sections of color: equal parts tan and white, but the dominant color was black. It took up three quarters of the crystal's surface and was mixing with the tan and white. It wasn't supposed to be there. Translation: he was part human and part angel, but his body was corrupted by demon blood. Bingo. So not a liquid fire. A holy fire that is consuming him from the inside out…. Memory sparked. One of her mentor's books spoke of a holy sword, given to the archangel, Michael, which cleansed evil from those that were struck by it. He's being cleansed. Looking at the jar again, there was no trace of the blood that had been mixed in with the substance. There wasn't enough good left. The heavenly fire would surely kill him.
Serena stood and rushed about the house in a flurry of pots, jars and bowls. Gathering all of it on the kitchen island Serena surveyed the paraphernalia with her arms out, gripping the edge of the counter. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, letting her instincts guide her hands. Without looking at the paper in front of her, she began to write. She scrawled the names of several ingredients and their precise amounts, how to combine them and in what form.
When her hand stilled, she looked down at the results. Serena frowned, annoyed. This is no good. In these amounts half the ingredients in this potion will kill him. Setting the recipe above a fresh sheet of paper, she tried again. Hmmm, maybe not in one dose then. Spread it out over time. Her next recipe involved the same ingredients in smaller, non-lethal doses. Serena smiled, satisfied… for a moment. This potion would stop the heavenly fire from killing him, but it wouldn't stop the alteration. There was no telling what state he would be in when the heavenly fire burned itself out. And it would burn out as it combines with the potion. She might end up making things worse for him. Still, I can't just let him die. So, Serena set to work mixing her new medicine and when she finished made the boy drink it hoping she wasn't going to screw this up.
Now, standing over the boy still unconscious on her kitchen floor, Serena contemplated how she was going to move him to the bed in her infirmary. Once again she was presented with the dilemma of how her weak and girly self was supposed to move a grown boy; her talent in moving objects with magic was nil. Serena gave a heavy sigh. She didn't want to bring anyone into this yet, but…
Serena strode over to her bag and pulled out a basic cell phone. She flipped it open, pressed the number three on her speed dial, and waited. He picked up on the fourth ring.
"…Hello?" The voice on the other end sounded groggy and slightly annoyed.
"Hey. It's me. I need you to come here and help me." Serena didn't waste time getting to the point.
"Do know what time it is?" The grogginess was gone, the annoyance doubled.
"Yes." Serena replied cheerfully. "I'm still awake."
"Smart ass."
"Just get over here and help me."
There was silence on the other end and Serena could feel the suspicion coming through the phone. "Tell me what you want first."
Serena rolled her eyes. "I promise this isn't like the last time when I asked you to help harvest the Veneullium Weed, you wuss."
"You didn't tell me that damn weed had hallucinogenic pollen. I was on a psychedelic hippy high for four days!" He raged.
"I told you to handle it delicately." Serena replied dismissively.
There was a scoff on the other end of the line. "You could have elaborated a little."
"Whatever. I just need you to move a patient for me."
"'Move a patient'? When did you get a patient?"
"Half an hour ago." Serena inspected the fingernails on her right hand.
"You're finding patients in the middle of the night now?"
"No. I was stargazing and he almost, literally, fell into my lap." Serena explained. "Now, are you going to help or not?"
"Hmph…fine." Then, he hung up.
Serena snapped her phone shut and placed it on the kitchen counter. While she waited, she put the jars of ingredients back in their cabinets and turned down a bed at the far end of the infirmary. Next, she hauled out some cleaning supplies; she put them against the wall, keeping a bucket and some mild soap, and filled the bucket with the soap and warm water. Setting the bucket down next to the boy, Serena reached over him into her bag and pulled out a clean handkerchief.
With her patient stable, for now, Serena finally took the time to really look at him. His black trousers and boots were splattered with mud and grass. When she removed his boots bits of gravel fell out. On each wrist, he had hammered silver bracelets. Real silver from the look of it. She slipped them off and set them next to his boots. His leather tunic was a beautiful scarlet red. It was a shame it was now ruined with blood as the design must have been lovely. Intricate gold and silver runes were embroidered along the collar and cuffs. She didn't recognize the runes, but she wasn't surprised; Serena only bothered to learn about runes related to healing and defense. Serena began to undo the rest of the metal clasps that held his tunic together. Carefully she stripped the tunic off his arms and lifted him up to slide it out from under him. The hand at his back brushed against several lines of scars. Someone had whipped him and that knowledge filled Serena's healer heart with disgust and sadness. Another reminder of the cruel people in his world; a reminder no one needed nowadays. She put the blood soaked shirt with the rest of his belongings.
Dunking the cloth in the warm soapy water felt good on her cold hands. Serena wrung out the excess water and began to finish washing off the blood and dirt on his torso being careful to avoid the bandaged wound in his chest. His skin was pale, but Serena didn't think that was entirely the result of blood loss. He had an athletic build, muscular. Obviously he was quite active in his day to day life; which meant to Serena he was going to be a problem patient: active people don't like being stuck in a bed recovering. Peering at his face she could see he was quite handsome. His features were sharp and she wondered what color his eyes were. His hair wasn't platinum-blonde like she had thought at first glance, but pure white. It looked soft. Serena reached out her hand and –
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
Serena jumped and snatched her hand back. Mentally shaking herself, Serena pushed to her feet and walked to the door. Pulling back the deadbolt and swinging it open, she gave her friend an apologetic smile. "Thanks for coming, Jenal."
On her threshold Jenal's frame filled her doorway. He was an American football coach's dream. Profile: 6' 3", broad shoulders, very strong, fast, and agile. His features were rugged, he was almost always frowning, and his most natural expression was a glare. Most people were intimidated by Jenal – until they get to know him. Despite his appearance Jenal was what people would call a 'gentle giant'. He was kind, protective, and loyal; which all of his friends found amusing since Jenal was a werewolf. Solanna, his girlfriend, liked to joke that he was his own best friend.
Right now, however, Jenal looked especially menacing with his shoulders hunched and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his brown leather jacket. His chestnut brown hair was uncombed and messy, having rolled out of bed to come here. His worn boots were caked in mud and bits of grass from trekking through the forest to reach her home.
"Yeah, yeah. Let's get this over with so I can get back to sleep." Jenal made to step into the house, but Serena put up her hand to stop him.
"Uh-uh. Wipe your shoes off first."
Jenal rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Serena stepped back and to the side. Jenal saw the boy on the floor as he walked into the house. He stopped beside him and crouched, placing his elbows on his knees. He surveyed the mess of bloody bandages, cloth and medical instruments around the boy and whistled. "Someone did a number on him."
Serena closed and bolted the door behind Janel, then joined him. "Yes."
"You said he fell into your lap. Did he fall from a tree?" Jenal looked up at Serena.
Serena's lips twitched in a smile. "Close. But I don't think his injuries came from the fall."
Jenal nodded, carefully lifting the bandage on his chest to peek at the wound. "Looks like he was stabbed with a broadsword. Shadowhunters?"
"Maybe. I won't know until he wakes." Serena decided not to tell Jenal her patient had been stabbed with a holy sword that belonged to the archangel Michael. "Let's get him into the infirmary."
Jenal slipped his arms under the boy's shoulders and knees and gently lifted him up. "Who is he? Is he a Downworlder?" Jenal asked as he rounded the furniture of Serena's living room and turn to slide sideways through the door in the back right corner of the room. Jenal walked down the long room to the last bed, the bed Serena had prepared and put the wounded boy down as gently as he had picked him up.
"He didn't have any kind identification on him," answered Serena evasively. She covered her patient with the blankets and avoided looking at Jenal.
Jenal narrowed his eyes at Serena into a true glare. "Meaning you know who he is."
Serena glanced over at Jenal and then away. She simply said, "I have a thought."
"A thought I won't like, I'll bet." He crossed his arms over his chest.
Serena shot him a look that said 'You are being childish.' She leaned over her patient and flushed the pillow behind his head. "He is hardly dangerous in his current state."
"And when is his 'current state' going to change?" Jenal demanded.
Serena assured him, "Not for a few days, I imagine."
"I recommend shackles when the time comes."
Now it was Serena's turn to glare. She refused to restrain a patient without cause. "Thank you for your help Jenal." She injected her voice with false sweetness.
"Fine. I should know you won't listen to me anyway." Jenal made his way out of the infirmary and headed back toward the door.
Serena leaned her shoulder against the infirmary door frame. "You know, you can sleep in the guest room until morning."
Jenal unbolted the door and opened it before turning back to her. "Nah, I like the company in my bed better." With that remark he shot Serena a wicked grin, stepped outside, and swung the door shut behind him.
Smiling, Serena shook her head and turned back to her patient. Her healing potion should have closed up the wound by now, though it would still be tender. The smile slipped from Serena's face. The next day would not be kind to him. The ingredients in his medicine would be tough on most people individually. Combined together with the heavenly fire-infused blood she collected from his wound, they would be brutal. It was entirely possible he would not survive the next two days. But if she could get him through it – if she could save his life – she might be able to change the all but certain dark and bloody future this world was about to face. Because Serena had no doubt in her mind that the boy lying in her hospital bed was Jonathan Morgenstern.
