"Tell us where you hid them, and we'll let you go," the man growled, his teeth already starting to look a little longer, his hair a bit thicker. When I didn't answer, he slapped me across the face, his claws leaving four parallel lines of red down my cheek.
The force of the blow knocked me back into the tree, and without thinking I lashed out at him with my booted foot. It connected with his nose with a sickening crack! and he fell back with a scream. The others were alerted instantly by his screams, and came running.
Two held me while a third drove his fist into my stomach as hard as he could. I gasped and doubled over. At least, as far as I could with the two holding my arms. Black and white stars danced in front of my eyes as I tried not to be sick all over my favorite boots.
The one I had knocked down bounded to his feet, his eyes a disconcerting yellow-gold as he tried his hardest not to go all wolf and tear my head off. As it was, he just beat my aforementioned head into the ground and had the others tie me to the tree by wrapping an insane length of chain around my torso and padlocking it behind me. Then they took another length of chain, wrapped it around my ankles - quite roughly, I might add - and attached it to another tree nearby so I was being pulled in both directions and efficiently incapacitated. Now the only thing I could do was head butt someone.
The leader, who until now had been watching from across the clearing, probably enjoying the show, strode over like an overgrown peacock, pulling a short, wickedly curved dagger out of his belt.
In my head I was screaming every swear word I knew, but on the outside I appeared to be unruffled. This was going to hurt so {censored} bad.
He crouched in front of me, smiling a smile that showed all of his teeth. "I'm sorry about that," he said pleasantly, his thick French accent garbling the words. "I and my pack have short fuse, and you burned it to nothing. Please do not struggle, we are very tired, and rather get what we need quickly so we let you go, no"
My lip was split and I could feel blood dripping off my jaw. My the right side of my face was swelling up grotesquely and I think they broke a rib or two. I knew that my ankle was twisted, and my shoulder was dislocated. All in all, it didn't put me in a very good mood.
"Don't lie to me," I snarled. "We both know that if I tell you what you want to know you'll just kill me. You can't afford to leave any loose ends that could notify the Clave."
His friendly smile faltered, then faded as I stared at him, a picture of stubborn defiance. "Very well," he growled. "We do this hard way."
One of his other lackeys handed him his dagger back. I hadn't seen him hand it off to anyone, but that hardly mattered because it was now glowing white-hot.
I tried miserably to be positive. At least the heat would cauterize the wounds, so I wouldn't bleed to death. Exsanguination wasn't how I wanted to die, anyways.
The leader brandished the weapon easily, waving it in my face. "You not feel pain at first," he told me easily. "Too hot. Sears shut - what you call them. Nerves. Only cold. Then, then it begins to hurt."
I clenched my teeth and wished that my Analgesia Mark hadn't worn off the day before yesterday.
The second the hot metal touched my throat I jerked, drawing a hissing breath through my teeth. {More words censored for the protection of your innocent little minds} that hurt! The sharpened electrum cut through my skin easily and crimson blood spilled down the side of my neck, steaming as it splattered on the hot metal. My flesh delivered a thousand shrieking complaints, demanding that the mutilation be stopped immediately.
He didn't press hard enough to sever any major arteries, though, which made my already nauseous stomach even more upset. That just meant that he didn't want to kill me.
Blood soaked through my black shirt, warm against my clammy skin. He made the second cut on my shoulder, then the other side of my neck. As he drug the blade across my wrist a strange lethargy overtook me. I was so very tired, and cold. Shifting streams of blood ran down my body to pool around my legs. The razor edge burned and throbbed, and the howls of encouragement from the other wolves were drowned out by the hammering of my own heart.
He placed the blade - now cooled by the red fluid spilling from my torn skin - at my throat, right over the jugular. His lips moved, I couldn't have heard what he was saying even if I had wanted to, but I figured that it was the same thing he had been demanding to know for the past three days.
My vision began to dim as the soft blackness welcomed me. Through the veil of shadows, I saw a brilliant golden blur fly from the trees at the edge of the clearing, driving a luminous seraph blade through the back of one of the wolves, shoving him into his neighbor before flinging the blade into the back of the Alpha's neck.
He fell forward with a gasp, the knife opening a shallow cut from my chin to the waistband of my black Slayer pants as he collapsed onto me. His weight smothered me, pinning me to the ground and ramming the breath out of me.
I tried to shove him off, feeling his lifeblood splash onto my face, but I was just so tired. I couldn't make my arms move, couldn't even breath. Then the weight was gone, and I gasped weakly, trying to suck as much of the life-giving oxygen into my lungs as I could.
The angel was standing over me, his bright golden eyes fixed on my face. What I thought was a halo was actually his hair, tawny and ocher around his face. The Marks swirling on his tan skin marked him as another Slayer, and the blood on his weapon said he was a good one.
Without a word he bent and, gripping the padlock in his hand, carved an Open rune into the lock and stepped back quickly as the metal shattered.
Once the chains were gone it was a bit easier to breathe, and he carved a Healing rune into the skin by my heart. Even in my half dead state I still had enough presence of mind to be mortified that a boy - even an angel boy as he appeared to be - would see me with most of my shirt cut off.
As if sensing my embarrassment, he pulled his shirt over his head and gently tugged it over mine. It was way to big, but it was warm, and it smelled good, like wind and sunlight and some sort of cologne. Not that sunlight had a scent, but if it did, it would be this.
My eyes just wouldn't stay open! I felt the stinting kiss of a stele at my neck and felt my cuts begin to knit themselves together from the deepest points. If you've never felt your body healing itself, it's something you probably aren't missing out on. It's weird and uncomfortable.
Someone - almost positive it was angel boy - scooped me up off the ground like I weighed ten pounds instead of one hundred. I moaned as my ribs were jostled, and then my arm popped itself back into place and I gripped the boys' shirt tight to keep myself from screaming. The pain lessened after that, though, which was a plus.
I faded in and out of consciousness as we traveled. I don't know for how long, but after an immeasurable amount of time I heard other voices.
"Is she alright?" someone asked. A boy. Maybe eighteen?
"I don't know," another boy answered, and I felt angel boy's chest vibrate gently as he spoke. "I put an iratze on it, and it looked like it was helping for a while, but she hasn't gotten any better."
"Where did you find her?" the other boy asked.
"I heard some werewolves were causing trouble out east and decided to check it out. When I got there they were trying to torture her into telling them where she hid someone. They were not happy when she told them - in very polite terms - where they could go."
A feminine gasp sounded to my right, and a third person breathed, "Is she dead? She looks weak -"
I let out a pained cry as the nerves and tendons in my ankle knit themselves back together, gripping the angel's arm. "Appearances can be deceiving," he grunted breathlessly, and I let go, slowly unbending each of my fingers.
"We need to call Magnus," the girl exclaimed nervously. "He'll know what to do."
"He was already planning to come over anyway," said the other boy. "I'll call him and tell him to come right away." Quick footsteps exited the room, and I heard soft beeping as someone dialed. The walls muffled the words past recognition.
"Set her down on the couch," the girl ordered. She must be more of a young woman than a girl, because she sounded at least eighteen.
I whimpered as the angel boy set me on the couch. "Jace," the girl said, "What did they do to her?"
The boy - Jace's - tone was amused, but serious. "They had her chained to a tree. The Alpha was using and electrum knife heated in the fire. She didn't even flinch."
It was silent for a while, and I drifted. At least now I knew the angel boy's name. Jace. It suited him. The door banged open and a familiar voice called, "What is so important that you had to interrupt my - oh, my God. Emmaline? What happened to you?"
At the sound of his voice a burst of energy flooded through me, and I peeled my eyelids open for a moment and I managed a weak grin. "Hey, Maggie. What took you so long?"
His black hair was still wet and un-spiked, with no presence of glitter whatsoever. He must really like these people, if he didn't even bother to put on his makeup or do his hair.
Magnus was at my side in an instant, blue fire glittering from his hands. "What happened, Jace?"
Jace looked startled. "You two know each other?"
"Yes, and I would like to continue to know her for quite a bit longer, if you don't mind," Magnus snapped impatiently. Jace told him, and Magnus looked grave. "Werewolves, you say?"
"Yeah."
"This is very bad," Magnus muttered, the blue fire flaming brighter.
"Is she going to Turn?" demanded the girl, her voice quavering. I got my first good look at her and my self-esteem dropped to about negative one-ten. She was stunning, with her long black hair, porcelain skin, and dark eyes. She had a perfect figure, too. Of course. The boy standing next to her was just as pretty, with shaggy black hair and bottle blue eyes.
"No," Magnus answered sharply. "No, she won't Turn."
"Then why are you worried?" said the other boy.
"I'm not worried, Alec, I'm scared stiff. Depending on how long ago she was attacked, she'll either die or turn into a Forsaken," Magnus said. The blue fire had begun to work on me and it felt like everything was coming from a long, dark tunnel. I sighed and closed my eyes. Magnus was here now; he would make it all better.
Magnus, Jace, and the Lightwood siblings watched nervously as Emmaline's eyes slowly closed. Anything that scared Magnus was more than enough to frighten the others.
"So," Alec asked absently. "How do you know each other?"
Magnus gave a distracted snort. "I've been her only family since she was three. Her parents were killed by demons and I happened across the smoldering wreckage of their house and saw this little sprat stumbling around like the luckiest survivor in the world. Something about her just wouldn't let me leave her there as I would have done, so I've raised her to be a Shadowhunter ever since."
"Why in the world would you of all people train her to be one of us?" Jace demanded.
"Because I knew that something like this would happen to her either way," Magnus snapped, then took a deep breath and concentrated on his spell for a few moments. "Her parents were Shadowhunters, but her grandmother was one of the loup-garou, one of the Moon's Children, but it skipped a generation. Emmy was the odd one out: she had the wolves speed and strength, but she could bear the Marks of the Shadowhunters. After a while the wolf faded entirely, and she got something else." Magnus edited, not sure that these were his secrets to tell.
He looked down. Emmaline was sleeping peacefully now, the magic having burned the toxins from her system. "She should be fine. She just needs rest now."
I came out of the vision abruptly, sitting up quickly just to fall back to the pillow, holding my head. "Ow," I muttered darkly. "What is your head made of, rocks?"
Jace sprawled across my legs, clutching his nose. When he spoke his voice was muffled. "You were mumbling loud enough to wake the dead so I came to see what was wrong. You didn't need to crack me over the head just for being chivalrous. Anyway, I thought that you would die in your sleep. You were out for three days."
"Well then you shouldn't have been leaning over me, yes?" I sat up again, my stomach growling. "Besides, I had a vision. Not a pleasant one, either, might I add."
Jace looked up, cocking one eyebrow lazily. "You had a vision."
I nodded, wincing. "Yes."
"What was this one about?"
I gnawed my lip. "I'm not supposed to talk about my visions to anyone. Hell, I'm not even supposed to be having them. Magnus is going to kill me -"
"Why?" Jace drawled.
"Because sometimes, when I go into a vision, I don't come out," I breathed
"Oh. That certainly puts a downer on that particular power, now doesn't it?"
"Sort of. The manifestations are usually caused by stress, or pain, or magic, and I had plenty of both yesterday. Caffeine will instantly send me into a vision, so no pop or coffee. Music is a huge trigger though. Whatever I'm listening to at the time directs the path the vision will show," I explained.
"Huh?" Jace questioned.
I sighed. "I mean, if I'm listening to a song about death, then I will see the death of someone close to me. I could be seeing the future forty years away, but because that person is close to me, and the music is directing it, that's what I see."
"So what's you're favorite song right now?" Jace asked, staring at the ceiling.
"Fall For You by Secondhand Serenade," I answered immediately.
"Why that song?" Jace queried.
I blushed and looked at my hands. "I can't tell you that," I murmured quietly.
He opened his mouth to ask why, but the acrid smell of smoke cut us both off. I flew off the bed and out the door, thinking, if Magnus tried to cook without me there to help him I'm going to dump whatever it is over his glittery hair.
I saw the banister of the staircase in front of me and, instead of stopping to run down the stairs, took it as a hurdle, landing as silently as a cat in a low crouch on the hardwood floor thirty feet below. Jace landed beside me just as quietly.
Skidding to a stop at the kitchen door I saw Isabelle - I had heard her name in the vision - throwing something out the window, coughing. I coughed, too, and covered my mouth and nose with the neck of my shirt. I realized suddenly that I was still wearing Jace's shirt from the day before.
Isabelle looked up, mildly embarrassed. "Anyone want to go out to Taki's for breakfast?" she asked.
"I'm game," Jace said immediately.
"Me too," Alec, who had slid to a halt beside Jace, chimed.
"Not yet!" Isabelle cried suddenly. I turned violently. "Where do you think you're going, dressed like that?" she demanded me.
"Uh, out for breakfast?"
"No way," she exclaimed. "Not a chance." she marched across the room, grabbed my arm, and dragged me towards the other exit. I cast a helpless glance over my shoulder to Jace, who smiled that infuriatingly lovely smile and wriggled his fingers at me.
'Traitor' I mouthed to him.
He only smiled.
Isabelle's room was painted black with gold paint sponged on in complicated swirls. There was a vanity shoved up against one wall with just as many pots of paint and foundation as Magnus.
"Isabelle," I protested as she shoved me into the bathroom with an armful of clothes. "Is this really necessary? I mean, we're only going out to breakfast -"
She slammed the door in my face.
I sighed reluctantly and, with even more reluctance, pulled off Jace's T-shirt. Isabelle had given my a short black miniskirt with thick silver chains and a metallic silver halter top. I pulled them on, incredulous. How the heck was I supposed to kick demon behind in these, nevertheless walk?
"Oh, good," she said as I walked out. She flung a pair of fishnets at me, along with a pair of black leather boots. Those went on, too, and then she dragged me to the vanity and started on my makeup.
"I'm glad that Magnus finally found someone," I noted absently.
"What?" she asked, shocked.
"Magnus and Alec. They make a cute couple."
"H-how do you know that?" she demanded shakily.
I looked at her skeptically. "Magnus is like my brother, or my dad. Of course he tells me these types of things, just like I would tell him if I ever found someone." I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, that's real likely."
Isabelle was silent for a moment before saying, "So, how much do you like Jace?"
I flushed beet red. "I do not like him! I'm just… thankful, that he saved my life, that's all," I insisted.
Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh. What would you say if I told you we were sleeping together?"
Now I was flushed from anger, though you couldn't really tell the difference. "Are you?" I demanded angrily. Okay, so maybe you could tell the difference. "You are so not! I mean-"
I broke off abruptly then sighed. "Okay, maybe I like him… but just a teensy-tiny bit. Not enough to matter…" I trailed off when I saw that she was still laughing. I harrumphed loudly, folding my arms and slumping in the vanity seat.
Eventually she stopped laughing and only chuckled occasionally as she did my makeup. "Close you eyes," she ordered, then smacked me in the face with a powder-puff full of glitter and white foundation.
Once I had finished hacking life-threatening debris out of my lungs, I turned to look at myself in the mirror, nearly gasping in spite of myself. My dark hair - usually so disorderly curled that I just pulled it back in a pony tail and left it until Magnus made me brush it - hung around my face in soft, ebony tendrils. My eyes looked even more prominent, glowing luminously from above my sharp cheekbones.
"Wow," I breathed.
Isabelle walked back into the room - I hadn't even realized she'd left until then - dressed to kill, as always, in a tight wine red corset top and matching skirt. Her electrum whip was coiled on her wrist, and I excused myself to go find my weapons.
I should have asked for directions, because I ended up wandering the halls for about ten minutes before Jace found me. A Persian cat, slinking at his heels, trotted past him and mewed plaintively at my feet. I scooped him into my arms, scratching his ears as he purred loudly.
"Yes?" I asked Jace.
"Isabelle got worried, so I asked Church to find you," he said, his voice was slightly uneven, and he was staring at my legs like he'd never seen them before, which, in all fairness, I suppose he hadn't.
I tried to ignore it, though my breathing hitched and I felt color rise in my cheeks. "Is that you're name?" I crooned to the cat. Then, to Jace, I said, "I was trying to find my room, but I got lost."
He pushed himself of the wall and walked - almost glided - down the hall. I stumbled after him in the ridiculous boots, cursing and muttering about how pleasant it would be to hunt down and slaughter the man who had invented heels.
Jace chuckled. "Do you always mutter this much?" then caught me as I stumbled.
"I didn't trip," I said quickly, "I was just… testing gravity."
He laughed again. "We all appreciate your sacrifice. Here's your room. Mine is right across the hall, and Alec's is two doors down."
"Thanks," I muttered, setting Church down. We both hesitated awkwardly for a moment before I asked, "Do you… want to come in for a minute? While I get my gear together, I mean."
He brightened, like someone had turned the three-tone Jace lamp up another notch, and walked into the room ahead of me.
There was a duffle bag sitting in the center of the bed with my black leather jacket strewn over the top. Good old Magnus. He knew I would almost definitely find demons and figured that he should keep me well supplied to make it as easy on me as possible.
I threw the jacket on immediately, horrified to discover that my jacket was longer than my skirt. Pushing the thought aside, I pulled out my sketchbook, a long, thin dagger inscribed with crosses and a red rose quartz for the hilt, my four favorite seraph blades: Ithuriel, Jahoel, Nakir, and my closest and most trusted friend Cassiel, a brace of wrist knives, a thigh sheath, a set of bracelets made of blessed iron, silver, and electrum carved with strength and deceit runes.
Once I got everything on I felt a whole lot better. Jace was sprawled across the bed, thumbing through my sketchbook.
I cleared my throat. He ignored me. I started tapping my foot impatiently, then looked at the ceiling to count to ten when I saw it. A creepy, disgusting little spider was crawling across my ceiling, stopping right above my head.
I shrieked and backed up against the wall, pulling one of my throwing knives from the sheath on my wrist. Jace looked up, startled, but I threw the dagger as hard as I could, watching it sail upwards to stick in the drywall ceiling, skewering the spider along the way.
My hands were trembling, and I sagged against the wall, moaning, "I could really go for a Fearless rune right about now."
Jace was standing in front of me, examining the ceiling where the dagger stuck. "A spider?" he asked flatly.
"It was a really big spider," I said, laughing hysterically. "I think it had a gun."
Alec, Isabelle, and Magnus crashed through the door, Magnus's blue fire sparkling along his fingers, Isabelle's whip ready in her hands, and Alec holding a glimmering seraph blade in one hand and a polished wooden feather staff, capped at both ends with glimmering blades, in the other.
"Sorry," I said, just as Jace answered, "False alarm."
Magnus was the first to notice the dagger stuck in the ceiling, then crossed the room in three strides and gathered me to him. "It was a spider, wasn't it?"
I nodded weakly.
"A spider?" Alec repeated, amused.
"Spidren demons slaughtered her parents," Magnus corrected sharply. An awkward silence descended over the room, and I waited until I had myself under control before gently untangling myself and saying,
"Let's just go eat. I'm starved."
After retrieving the dagger from the ceiling - I had to jump for it, much to Jace and Alec's amusement - we all filed down the stairs. Magnus and Alec decided to take Magnus's Jaguar, and Isabelle was meeting someone. Jace tugged me out to the garage and showed me his baby. Not his literal baby; his motorcycle.
It was a Ducati 1098, sleek and black. The ride to the restaurant, Taki's, was wonderful, with Jace driving wildly - he used a glamour so we could go as fast as we wanted - with me clinging to his belt like a burr to a sheep's tail.
When we passed Magnus and Alec, caught at a stoplight, Alec's mouth dropped and Magnus's eyes narrowed. I gulped. I was so going to catch it later, but then we were there and I was shaking the hair out of my eyes, shoving it back impatiently.
"That was incredible!" I exclaimed as we walked in the building. My legs were still tingling from the feel of the engine beneath them, and walking felt so slow and cumbersome.
"Yes," he agreed, looking thoughtful. "But why did Magnus look like he was going to go on the war-path?"
I wrinkled my nose and twisted the ring on my finger. "He told me that if he ever caught me riding a motorcycle with a boy he would kill the boy and take away Cassiel for a month."
Jace rubbed his neck, wincing. "Jesus, Emmaline, I wish you would have thought of that a bit earlier."
I snorted, sliding into the booth. "He won't kill you if only because it would upset Alec, not to mention that he actually likes you."
I looked around. There was a Peri, a djinn, an ifrit, two faeries, a werewolf, and a warlock. I looked at Jace sharply. "You're sure that no whacko's come in here? Well, no one who's more whacked than usual?"
He nodded warily, but I just shrugged off my jacket and let my wing out as much as I could in the limited space. Okay, not to be vain or anything, but my wings are absolutely gorgeous. I have a wingspan of almost seventeen feet, and the feathers of my wings mirror my eyes, starting with light, metallic silver at the bottom and darkening to black at the tops. It's been forever since I was able to take the glamour off of them and relax my shoulder blades.
I felt a thrill of smugness as Jace's jaw dropped, but I just picked up a menu and flipped it to the back, reading down the list. I glanced up from under my lashes innocently. "What?"
He shook his head and closed his mouth before he started catching flies. "Nothing. It's just… I though you were Nephilim? And how come I wasn't able to see them before?"
I rolled my eyes. "I am Nephilim. I just have a bit more of the Angel in my blood than the rest of you. And Jace, I'm disappointed in you. Here I was under the impression that you were one of the best, but you didn't even recognize a glamour," I mocked, shaking my head in feigned disappointment.
The waitress came to take our order, and I got blackberry pancakes and a guava/mango/papaya/nectarine smoothie.
"What Mark do you have around your eye?" Jace asked when out food came.
"Oh, this one? I sort of made it up. It's a mixture of Sight, Deceit, Knowledge, Tact, and Alert."
He whistled quietly. "Deceit?"
"Another of my creations. It's a sort of charisma; it makes people believe whatever you say, and it shows me when someone is lying. Here, I'll show you," I said, tapping the Mark gently with my fingertip and gently stroking the back of his hand. "All ducks are purple, aren't they Jace?"
"Uh-huh," he said slowly. "All ducks are purple."
I grinned, then tapped the Mark again. The slight sting on my temple faded, and Jace blinked stupidly for a second, his golden eyes glazed.
"What?"
"We both agreed that all ducks are purple," I supplied, grinning. "Of course, once I finish the lie, or release the Mark, the victim instantly forgets what happened, which in itself is helpful. Of course, the lying part is a bit faulty, because just now, when you said all ducks are purple - and we both know they aren't - you honestly believed that it was true, so you weren't technically lying."
He snorted. "So what, when someone lies do you hear the "Liar liar pants on fire" song in you head or something?"
The corners of my lips tugged upwards in a smile. "No. When you lie, red sparks fall from your eyes, like tears. Usually people are more skeptic about my being able to create new Runes," I noted.
His hand clenched into a fist on top of the table, the skin stretching white over his scarred knuckles. "Clary was able to create new Runes," he said quietly, his voice as hard and brittle as ice.
He said only one sentence, but there was a whole paragraph to be read in between the lines, if you knew how. He had loved her, this Clary girl, and had failed to protect her, resulting in her untimely death.
Magnus, whom I hadn't seen enter the store, slid in next to me, forcing my to fold my wings up a bit. "That's impressive enough, but you haven't fought a battle until you've fought it wearing her Analgesia Mark." Mercifully, he skipped over our more touchy topic.
"Ana-what?" Alec asked, confused.
"Analgesia, it mean the lack of sensibility to pain while somebody is conscious, moron," I said, but grinned to show that I was joking.
"So you're Mark can actually take away all feelings of pain?" Isabelle asked, sliding into the booth behind us. She had a dark-haired boy with her. I sniffed the air unobtrusively. Vampire. What was Isabelle doing with a vampire, and in the daylight as well?
"Yes, but that isn't always a good thing. I could lop off my own arm and I would even know it until I bled to death."
"Oh, where are my manners?" Isabelle chirped happily, laughing at herself. "Emmaline, this is Simon. Simon, Emmaline."
I nodded to him nervously. My instinctive fear of boys was returning. Alec and I were practically related, and he was gay, which meant that I doubted he would try anything, Jace had rescued me, and Magnus trusted him, and I was attracted to him in a way that made me nervous, but in a completely different way.
But Simon was a Sucker, and I had been taught to be on my guard around them. The waitress, Kaylie, her nametag said, brought out Jace's and my food. It was wonderful.
Just as I swallowed the last bite of pancake, the front door flew open to smash into the wall, raining glass onto a pair of faeries. A tall woman with long, matted brown hair and tan skin stalked in, every line of her body rigid with anger. Her eyes were red from crying.
"You!" She screamed, pointing at Jace. She might have been pointing at Jace, but it seemed more likely that she was pointing at him because only Jace would be able to piss someone off that much. "You killed him! You killed Ajax!"
The name struck a cord in my heart. Ajax was the name of the werewolf leader that Jace killed a few days ago.
Some of the other Downworlders got to their feet and left. They didn't want to get involved with a Nephilim fight.
"Ajax was the Alpha werewolf you killed three days ago," I said quietly.
"Don't you dare say his name you filthy whore!" she shouted at me. Okay, call me touchy, but I hate it when people call me that. I can handle all the others, but being called a whore just drives me completely insane!
I leaped up from my seat, my hand flashing to my belt, but Magnus knew me as well as I knew myself and pulled me back into my seat. The werewolf smirked, and shook her hand at Jace.
"You, boy. You're blood is mine by right. An eye for an eye, correct?" the she-wolf snarled. She was beginning to look decidedly wolfish, her ears rising in sharp, canine points, her hands tipped with nails that looked more like claws, eyes glowing amber.
"Actually," Jace said casually, not even reaching for his weapon, "My blood technically belongs to him," he pointed to Simon. I was astonished. The only way a vampire could stake a blood-claim on a human - or Shadowhunter - was to let the vampire draw blood freely. Surely Jace had never…?
The she-wolf looked just as shocked, but decided that it didn't matter to her and lunged at Jace. Reacting in an instant after years of training, I leaped over the table, striking the woman in the middle and knocking her backwards into a table. Chairs skittered across the linoleum as we grappled, rolling across the floor. My wings beat the air heavily, the heavy tips unable to get passed the werewolf's defenses.
Her lips were pulled back from her muzzle in a permanent rictus, exposing her sharpened canine teeth. She slashed at me with her claws, ghastly yellow eyes glinting as she made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snarl. I pulled back my fist and punched her in the head, hearing her cry out. I might have fractured a knuckle, but the adrenaline kept the pain at bay for the moment.
She slashed her claws a crossed my face, but when they reached the mark by my left eye there was a blinding flash of light and she screamed bloody murder, jerking her hand back like she had been burned, which she had. Her hand was smoking, the nails melted to her skin. Eww.
I jumped to my feet, wolf-girl springing up after me, her face twisted with fury. I kneed her in the stomach, then grabbed her hair and head butted her as hard as I could. She punched me in the side once, twice, three times. I heard a rib crack, and agony swelled in my side. Pain is just a message, pain is just a message, I repeated to myself desperately.
She kicked my legs out from under me and I landed on my wings with a loud snap! I screamed as she jumped on me, landing a punch on my cheek that whipped my head to the side. I spit blood into her face, then arched my back, snarling viciously, throwing her off hard.
I jumped to my feet, trying to pin her arms, but she turned and hit me in the chest so hard I skidded across the floor and slammed through the wall. Leaping up, I picked my way back through the Emmaline sized hole in the wall before throwing myself at her again.
I was not going to loose. In every battle, every training scenario, I had always won. This would be no exception. I kicked up, my booted foot connecting with her chin. She dropped like a ton of bricks, and I was straddling her just as she had done to me, digging my nails into the flesh of her throat.
I leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You knew I would win, or Jace. You want to die, but I'm not going to kill you." I gave a short, hard laugh. "Because I don't have enough compassion for that. Go morn your lover, cur, then swallow silver, put us all out of your misery." I drew back one hand and punched her as hard as I could in the solar plexus, just below where the ribs separate. My sixth birthday present was the lesson that a sharp blow to this region can cause loss of consciousness.
I climbed off her unconscious body, groaning. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. Or two. Only when I saw Magnus and Alec release Jace's arms did I remember that they were there. I might have wondered in passing why he didn't help me out.
He rushed over to me, looking furious. "What the hell were you thinking, you stupid little girl!" he shouted in my face. "You could have gotten yourself killed! You didn't even draw a weapon! Skin fighting with a werewolf! What were you trying to do, break the world record of most broken bones in one fight?!"
I backed off a few steps, shocked. "I-I was just trying to -"
"To what? Help? I sure as hell don't need help, especially not from you! This is the reason you work alone, because if you didn't your stupid, erratic, hair-brained antics would get everybody killed!"
I jerked like I had been Tasered. Tears stung the bridge of my nose as I glared up at him. "Well then, now that we're getting all our issues off our chests, have I mentioned that I think you're a cocky, angst-ridden teenager who couldn't protect his girlfriend so he takes his pain out on those close to him!" I was shouting by the end.
It was his turn to flinch, and when he turned to look at me his eyes were cold. "Just leave."
"Fine, Jace Morgenstern," I hissed at him. He reeled like I had hit him. Then I really did hit him. I stared at the reddening handprint on his cheek for five seconds before I burst into tears and ran out of the diner, hoping someone would pay for all the damage.
I couldn't fly - at least one of my wings were broken, if not both - so I ran, ignoring the small, insignificant fact that I had at least three broken ribs and I might puncture my heart. I found myself at the park and dropped onto a bench, weeping. I had just enough presence of mind to put a glamour around me and the bench while I wept and licked my wounds. Not literally, though. I just put on two iratze and let them do their work.
But they didn't. A slow burn was starting in my stomach, burning through my blood. Fact hit me like a sucker punch to the jaw, and I had just gotten one of those recently. I was infected by werewolf DNA, and it was probably already too late for Magnus to cure it. It was inventible now that I either die or turn into a Forsaken warrior.
But I knew my future. I was going to die tonight. It was what the vision had shown me, and I had never, ever been wrong before.
Luckily, or unluckily, however you might see it, my wings weren't effected by anything otherworldly, not werewolf toxins or Runes or anything, so they were already healed.
I didn't know where else to go, so I went back to Magnus's apartment. He lived in a largely industrial neighborhood of Brooklyn, and the streets were lined with warehouses and factories, though in this part of the district they showed more signs of human inhabitance, flowers in boxes, curtains on the windows, close lines on the roofs.
His apartment was in a tall red brick building. I dropped onto the roof and pulled the skylight open, dropping into the living room. Deserted as it was, it looked like an abandoned night club. There were random spots of glitter spots on the walls, and the wooden floors were twisted and warped with age.
I staggered down the hallway, breathing heavily and fighting the urge to vomit. The loft below me was just as deserted as the rest of the flat, except for Chairman Meow, who ran up to me, twining around my feet and purring madly. I thought of how pleasant Church had been that morning, and felt a pang run through my heart. Jace. Oh great. Now, along with the fact that I was dying and nauseated I felt like I was going to cry again.
Teetering, I leaned against the wall, using it as a crutch. I decided that, since I was going to die, I may as well die in a place that was familiar to me, so I stumbled into the dimly-lit cavern I had created for myself.
The bed was pushed up against the wall, the sheets and comforter a uniform black, as were all but one of the pillows. Magnus had given me the metallic silver suede cushion several years ago, when he was still trying to influence my tastes. Besides the pillow and the single black-light light bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting a purple glow over everything and making the pillow and swirling Runes on my walls glow, there was nothing else in the room that wasn't black. A laptop and printer sat on my black wooden desk, surrounded by floppy disks, daggers, a whetstone, and six unnamed seraph blades. A stele was stuck point-down into the wood.
A sparkling red mist pushed its way over my eyes and I fell to the floor in an undignified heap, my arm stretched towards the bed. There was an uncomfortably loud roaring in my ears, and the last thing I heard was Chairman's plaintive mew as he nudged my limp hand with his cold nose.
Magnus - who until moments before had been slumped forward on the bench, his head in his hands - suddenly shot to his feet, the light making the grayish cast of his skin look ghoulish.
"What is it?" Jace asked frantically, his eyes wild, like someone was burning him from the inside out. "Did you find her? Pick up another trace?"
They five of them - Jace, Magnus, Alec, Simon, and Isabelle - had been searching all day for Emmaline. After she had run out of Taki's, and Magnus had repaired the damage to the restaurant, the desperate hunt had commenced, though only Magnus realized the gravity of the situation.
He knew that she had been infected by the wolf-woman, and that their chances of finding her alive had dwindled to next to nothing. He didn't say anything because he feared for Jace's sanity. He didn't know what would happen to the boy if Emmy died. It might finally drive him off the wall.
God knows that he had lost enough people in the last year.
After Emmy had left, or, more precisely, fled, Jace had deflated, covering his face with his hands. "What have I done?" he had whispered, so… heartbroken, that even Magnus didn't have the heart to yell at him. Since then, Jace had been a man possessed, a single-minded fury driving him.
The last place Magnus had tracked her to was this bench in central park, and since then they hadn't had one clear trace of her all over town. Until now.
"Yes. One of the wards at my apartment was just tripped," he said, blue flame appearing around his fingers. They didn't have time to wait for a cab or take the subway, because what he didn't add was that if she hadn't taken the time to bypass the wards when she entered the skylight, she must be terribly, terribly ill.
Under normal circumstances Jace would have protested at making a Portal in the middle of a public park, but now was hardly time to quote the rulebook at someone.
He couldn't believe that he had been so cruel. He wasn't mad at her for fighting - he liked a girl who could take care of herself, which had been part of Clary's draw - he was mad at her for taking an unnecessary risk for him. He didn't deserve any of it, but the guilt of his harsh words, played over and over in his head, like a broken record, haunted him almost as much as her expression had.
Jace knew that there was something Magnus wasn't telling them. The flicker of a lie in his golden green cat eyes had given him away.
He stared at the warlock for a moment before stepping into the Portal.
Jace decided that Portaling was one of those things that you never got used to. The feeling of falling was the worst part, how your heart slammed into your throat and your stomach turned to water. Not, he thought to himself, that falling was the only thing that gave him that spike of adrenaline. Emmaline did it to him, too. She was so beautiful, but she didn't know it, didn't believe it.
Just like Clary had. The name still sent a pang of longing through him, but ever since he had met Emmaline it had grown less and less painful.
Well, she was just going to have to get used to him for long enough that he could change that.
The second Magnus stepped into the apartment he knew that something was wrong. For one, Chairman Meow bolted out of the shadows like a bat out of hell, twining around his ankles like a liking feather boa, then darting back towards the stairs again. Magnus took the hint and followed him at a sprint only to stop dead in the doorway of Emmaline's room. She was sprawled across the floor, her skin a deathly white, the veins in her face and neck standing out glaringly.
Jace crashed into his back, which was startling enough, Jace was never clumsy, but then he pushed past Magnus, falling to his knees beside Emmaline's still form. The muscles in his back rippled, shuddering, and it struck Magnus that maybe, just maybe, he was crying. Or at least trying not to. Very hard.
But Magnus's eyes were only for Emmaline at the moment, which was why he was the one to see her fingers twitch, ever so slightly. Just the faintest of movements, but with huge impact.
In an instant Magnus was at her side, shoving Jace out of the way roughly. "She isn't dead yet, you idiot, now move aside. Alec, get the Book of White."
Blue fire glittered from his hands as he worked. Alec ran into the room holding the small white book in his hands and handed it to Magnus who flipped to a bookmarked page and began chanting in an ancient language, long dead.
As his magic fueled the spell, the changes were obvious in Emmy. Her skin - always pale at best - regained some color, her breathing deepened, and her eyelids began to flicker. Magnus passed a weary hand over his eyes. He was eight hundred years old, but always looked timeless. Now there were sharp lines cut into the skin around his eyes and mouth. His hair hung lankly over his forehead and the slump in his shoulders was not his usual careless posture but true exhaustion.
Then Emmaline opened her eyes, those pretty eyes, saw Jace, and burst into tears.
Okay, I don't know if any of ya'll have ever died - or been nearly dead - before, but if you have, then you know how upsetting it is. Top that off with your newest obsession who had just broken your heart and nearly gotten you killed staring at you like you hung the moon when you were under the current impression that he hated you, you would have clung to your brother, best friend, or father as tightly as you could.
I had all three wrapped up in one neat little immortal package.
I sobbed, all the emotions that I had ever kept pent up pouring out through my already achy eyeballs. Magnus crooned wordlessly in my ear, rubbing my back where the wings joined my shoulder blades.
Let's just say that before this, I could count the times I had cried in front of Magnus - or anyone, for that matter - using only my thumbs. Two - count 'em, two - times before. The first was when I was three and my parents just died, the second was when I was sixteen and had been attacked by three Raum demons and a rapist in the same night. That was it. Other than that, I never, ever cried.
So crying three times in one day was a bit of a colossal step for me.
At least Jace and the others had to leave so I could have some privacy with my blubbering.
It took me a day and a half to recover from the toxin in my system, but I barricaded myself in and wouldn't let anyone but Chairman Meow in. I hung targets on the walls of my bedroom to keep up my aim, then made up my own Emotionless Rune, because I really needed it. The only problem was that it burned itself off fairly quickly.
I made some more seraph blades - Sanvi, Sansanvi, Camael - and designed a new stele. I filled up another sketch pad - I'm afraid to say that I drew quite a few pictures of Jace, more than was healthy.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear, I thought to myself glumly as Jace shouted through the door. I hated it when he came to plead with me because it was so much harder to resist him than the others.
"Emmy, Emmy please just open the door," he begged. I still got shivers every time I heard his voice.
I threw a dagger into the door and it's point stuck out the other side.
I paused fearfully for a moment. Had I hit him? But then he continued. "Very cute, Emmaline, now will you please open the door? Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top?"
At the word "cherry" my stomach growled loudly. I smacked. "Shut up," I ordered it angrily. "I can't do anything about it, you traitor."
"Oh, but you can," Jace said cheerily. I heard a motor running - an electric fan? - and the most delicious smell wafted under the door. Sniffing the air suspiciously, my stomach doing its very best impersonation of a bear coming out of hibernation, I slid carefully towards the door, trying not to make a sound.
"That's right!" Jace exclaimed, as if he had forgotten something. "Magnus told me you only eat you fish and chips with lemon and tarter sauce, a little of both on each, but nothing but a dipping spot of ketchup on the side." There was a crunching sound, like someone chewing, and when Jace spoke again his voice was muffled. "Oh, my God, and these pickles," he swallowed noisily, "To die for."
Fine, whatever. Yell at me, blah, blah, blah. I hadn't eaten in three days for crying out loud! I needed food.
I opened the door glumly. "Okay, fine. You win."
Jace pushed past me, shoving the basket of food into my hands. Out of habit, I kicked the door shut behind him, narrowly missing Chairman's tail as he fled. He hated Jace for some reason.
I sat at the desk chair as Jace flopped a crossed my unmade bed. The blankets and pillows were strewn everywhere. Clothes and weapons were covering every available space.
Okay, those were officially the best fish and chips I have ever eaten. Absolutely delish.
As I licked my fingers I saw Jace flipping through my sketchbook. He seemed distracted, so I took the opportunity to check my reflection in the screen of my computer. I didn't have a mirror.
I. Was. An. Absolute. Mess. My hair looked like last years birds nest, and my face was drawn and haggard. Over the last few days I had lost quite a bit of weight, so my clothes hung on my emaciated frame, and I had the self-hygiene of a jackal!
I harrumphed! Angrily and turned in my seat to see Jace watching me with amusement. I glared at him.
"Okay, you may have bribed your way in here with food, but give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you right back out," I growled. I still hadn't forgiven him.
His face looked sad. "You still haven't forgiven me, have you?"
"You read my mind!" I snapped sarcastically.
"You know, there is a fine line between sarcasm and outright hostility, and you seemed to have crossed it."
I hissed at him.
He got up off the bed and came to kneel in front of me, taking my hands in his. "Emmy, I truly am sorry for what I said, and I don't suppose a heartfelt apology will make it up to you?"
Just as I was about to say no, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. Gently at first, our lips barely meeting, but then he drew one hand up to cradle the back of my head and another at the small of my back, both protective and possessive, and he kissed me more fiercely, and I knew that he was choosing me.
Later we were laying on my bed together, looking at all of my sketches. It was embarrassing just how many were about him, or at least had him in them.
"Jace?" I asked softly.
"Yes?"
"You know when I told you what my favorite song was?"
He kissed me softly, sweetly, before replying, "I remember everything you tell me. You said Fall for You by Secondhand Serenade. It's a beautiful love song."
I twisted the ring on my finger nervously before looking up into his beautiful golden eyes. "I didn't tell you what it showed me, because it showed me you."
He smiled at me, a warm, genuine smile. "Did you just say you love me?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"Good, because, though when other Mundanes rejections amuse me, my own do not. I love you, Emmaline, and I always will."