I don't own The mortal instruments, all credit to Cassandra Clare. Enjoy! :)
I sat in the corner of Pandemonium, my eyes sweeping across the crowds, taking in all the swaying people, blue hair and green skin shimmering dizzyingly in the flashing strobe lights. I see a few regulars, a girl whose skin is a sickening purple and almost translucent, her hair made completely of vines and flowers. The red velvet booth was worn and stained with multiple things, things I didn't particularly want to think about. I wore my usual denim hot pants and black floaty top, layer, cut so the sides fell just to my thighs, where as the front barely reached my waist band. My mother's black leather jacket concealed the weapons strapped to my forearms, two seraph blades, and two kindjal blades hidden in my knee high boots, and chakrams on the belt at my waist. As I leant back, I felt the bow and 3 arrows dig into my back, and instantly sat forward again wincing.
My eyes caught movement, and I spotted Ryan coming back with our drinks, two Styrofoam cups probably containing some cheap beer.
He grinned at me, falling into the seat across from me, handing me the cup. My eyes brows went up as I smelt the vodka, and I looked at him in a mix of curiosity and appreciation. He shrugged nonchalantly, looking over his cup at me slyly, grinning like an idiot. I shook my head at the vodka in my cup, rolling my eyes as I took a gulp. The liquor was sharp, slightly warm, but otherwise pleasant.
"You know Callie can't resist my charm." He joked, and I chocked on the vodka, my hand over my mouth as I tried to suppress my snorts. Callie was a faerie, one with all blue eyes and strange half green, half purple veins the protruded from her silvery skin. Downworlder's came to Pandemonium a lot, it was a popular spot for Downworlder's and Mundane's to mix.
When I finally controlled my laughter I looked over at where Callie was stood, clothed in almost see through material that hung loosely over her curves in a sort of dress. She stared openly at Ryan; he followed my line of sight, and then waved at her, resulting in a black flush of blood to her cheeks. Downworlder's -half human, half demon creatures such as faeries, werewolves, vampires and warlocks- are fascinating, strong and powerful, yet there are those who are stronger. Demons.
"You and Callie?" I asked, my voice joking, but I was serious underneath. I had never seen Ryan date anyone, let alone a Downworlder, the only girl I had seen him with is... I seriously can't think of one. Ryan's been my best friend since infancy, though the story behind our friendship is a complicated one. It's not like Ryan isn't attractive, he's good looking, with broad shoulders and pretty brown eyes. His skin seems to be permanently sun kissed, only emphasising the muscles he hardly works for. He smiles at me, his sweet, cute smile, full lips slightly pouted, cheeks dimpled.
"Why not? Because she's a Downworlder?" I saw he instantly regretted the words as they left his mouth. He himself was a Downworlder, a child of the moon, a werewolf. It was because of him that I vowed never to kill or judge Downworlder's, and I had kept that vow since I was 8 years old. I only killed the demons that haunted this earth, those who caused harm and killed. Of course, Clave law states I have the right to kill a Downworlder if they harm a human, and because of the Accords, in any other circumstance, killing a Downworlder would get you punished. He reaches across the table and touches my hand, the thought of the Clave making my stomach roll in anger. I am a Shadowhunter, but not like those who live directly under the Clave. They despise Downworlder's, but create the Accords because they want to keep the peace. They didn't want to fight on two fronts, and Downworlder's hate demons too. We have a common enemy.
"I would never stop you dating her because she's a Downworlder." I whispered, my voice suddenly refusing to rise above the music of the club. Other Shadowhunter's have Steeles, things with which they can mark runes into their skin. Runes are like spells, each one does something different, one protects, one heals, there's even one for perfect long distance vision. But for me, I only have the vials of healing serum presented to me as a gift for my 6th birthday. The vials contain serums that fight against demon venom, which is lethal, and can cure other wounds too. Usually, though, I heal like a mundane, the word used for normal humans. Ryan nods his head, his fingers lacing through mine tentatively, and I look up and smile, trying to be reassuring. Shadowhunter's are part angel, and have supposedly been sent to the earth by the Angel Raziel to defend it against demons, but Ryan isn't a demon, he isn't. He's more human than I am, and I wish he was safe around here, but he's not, Shadowhunter's do what they want, no matter who the Downworlder is friends with. Ryan's pupils dilate slightly, his lips parting, and I can feel the slight shake to his finger. I sit forward, taking his other hand in mine.
"Ryan, what's wrong?" I asked in a hushed whisper, looking around the club for danger. Ryan releases one of my hands, and brings it to my face, making me look back at him. I cock an eyebrow at him questioningly, but I don't say a word, whatever has Ryan worried must be important. He looks down momentarily, hesitating, and then he looks back up, his eyes serious and slightly wider than usual. For a second I am startled by their beauty, the way they shone, reflecting multicoloured strobes, their intensity was dazzling. I snapped out of my train of thought when I realised he was talking.
"We should go, and I mean really go. Come somewhere with me, far away from here. Please." He didn't exactly beg, he knew begging me wasn't going to make me more compliant, but his voice did hold an edge of urgency. I drew back slightly, releasing his hand and putting it on his shoulder, gripping it reassuringly. My stomach tightened when I thought about what could have possible made Ryan think running was the best option. Ryan was not scared easily, and when my brothers weren't around he was my protector, not that I needed one. He'd made piles of pulp of the guys who had dared broken my heart, had hurt anyone who dared even look at me funny. My last boyfriend, Dean, had seen the full might of Ryan when he'd slapped me for talking to another guy. Let's just say, Dean ended up in intensive care, and when he was finally released, he had three fake teeth, a broken nose and rib and a sever limp. Nothing scared Ryan, and I mean nothing. Not Mundane's, Shadowhunter or Demons.