CHAPTER 1 — THE SIN CITY
"I know it's a strange time to send any of our hunters away, but I'm afraid we need this recon mission."
Robert Lightwood stood by the window looking out, his hands connected behind his back. The fleeting thought of him as father still felt misplaced in the Head Office. Younger Lightwoods rarely saw them outside of that status quo and got used to it. Only sometimes Alec still caught the small, human part of him deep down longing to be back to Idris for at least one day and feel the different kind of connection.
Alec frowned, pushing the annoying thoughts away, and did his best to focus on the task at hand.
"There are too many traces of demonic activity in Las Vegas in the recent months, and we cannot ignore or postpone that any longer." Robert turned and gave him a smile – one full of warm authority, with a glint in his eye that shot an arrow of fatherly connection into his son. "I'm sending my best ones," he added and nodded with reassurance. "You and Isabelle depart tomorrow via the Portal. Jace shall stay here and maintain the search of any traces of Valentine and the Cup. The Fairchild girl, Clarissa… We have decided to send her with you two."
Alec's eyes widened a tad, selling out his surprised defiance. He didn't flinch, nor tried to voice his objections, but his father read them all loud and clear in his momentary glance.
"She is in danger anywhere outside the Institute, as you know. And even in this city. She has been raised as a mundane and her life has changed so drastically in the recent two weeks, we all have to lend some understanding. It's hard for her to not maintain the contact with the only friendly connection she has left from her previous life – that Simon boy – but it's not completely safe, even if she doesn't leave these walls. We thought that a change of location and, perhaps, some vivid example of what her lineage is about could distract her a little from missing her human life and inspire some memories we might find useful. Do you understand the necessity of this?"
"I do," Alec said without hesitation, feeling all kinds of an outrage on the inside.
Robert smiled again, that warm smile of fatherly approval. Alec took no solace in it, his mind reeling from the news. His father knew it; and he approached, stood before Alec, his hands squeezing the son's shoulders like back when he was a kid and showing good progress with his weapons of choice.
"It's going to get better," Robert said, holding Alec's eyes with his. "I know you would like it much better to go with Jace and Isabelle, but who else would I entrust this girl if not to you two? We believe it's best to allow her out where her enemies wouldn't expect her to be."
"I understand."
He nodded, squeezed Alec's shoulders again and let go. "Thank you, Alexander. This would be all."
Alec did a courteous bow and left the Head Office. His feet were carrying him to Izzy's room.
Clary fingered the stone around her neck, the last gift she'd received from her mother and the final thread she had that could be linked to Jocelyn. Clary's thoughts returned to Luke, but she didn't want to think about him. She'd found he wasn't the man she'd known. He didn't care for her and he didn't care for her mother, he admitted as much. Clary had heard him and happy birthday to her! Her quasi-father didn't give a shit about her and she was now having to come to terms with the fact that there were demons out there ready to stab, suck and literally bite her face off and that she had no idea how to turn it all back off again.
She wasn't even sure she wanted to. How could she when there was so much she now knew beneath her nose? How could she even contemplate it when she had no idea where her mother was and if Simon was at risk? The latter problem she'd taken care of – at least tried.
She had attempted to sneak out of the Institute on multiple occasions to check on him, to let him know that she was alive (aware of how worried he'd be) but you wouldn't believe the security in this place! It was out of this world. Nephilim soldier shadow hunter whatever was at every post, magical security surveillance and a series of wards set in place merely to keep her inside.
Clary missed him, missed the comfort his presence provided and the fact that, unlike these supposed half-breed angels around her, he cared and understood her urgency for answers.
They'd shared information, of course, promised that answers would come and that they were working on things and that she should take it easy and let the professionals handle it (not that they said that in as many words). She was growing impatient, jaded and undecidedly insane.
She needed air, fresh air, and a break from the magical lectures, instruction on various demons that were both nightmare-inducing and nauseating, and bruising fight regime they'd introduced her to. Apparently, she was fifteen years behind on her supernatural education and had a lot to catch up on, a task they'd tried to cram down her throat for twelve hours of a twenty-four-hour day. Not that they had succeeded, but at a pace of two weeks that would kill just about anyone and she was barely holding on.
Gratefully, Clary still found time to draw, ungratefully, her art seemed to revolve around sporadic bouts of graffiti she'd come to learn was actually called "runes" and a certain Nephilim boy.
She snapped shut the notebook they'd provided her and slipped it into hiding under her mattress, pulled on the boots (and other clothes that Isabelle Lightwood had given her since she wasn't allowed to return home or reach out to anyone else) and made her way out of her room, heading for the cafeteria to grab a snack before the greenhouse.
She had to give it up to the angels, they really knew how to look after their people, and the cafeteria was filled with an assortment of stuff to nourish everyone's palette.
A weird thing when you thought about how military-like they were. Their attire, their mannerisms, their general rules, and laws.
She'd spend the last week learning them, coming to learn most the hard way, and she'd barely even scraped the surface. There were rules for everything. How to conduct yourself in the Institute, how to deal with other races, from mundane, which, in her opinion (and the way Alec said it) was an insulting term for ordinary humans, to vampires and werewolves. From what Clary understood, they even had different diplomacies with each that was to be followed strictly.
She wasn't able to eat much and she doubted she would be able to until she was reunited with her mother and Simon. The training helped alleviate that frustration.
She sat down at one of the tables, picking at her plate and the breakfast muffin she'd selected.
Isabelle's phone was on speaker, blasting out song after song from one of her playlists as she got dressed for the day. She'd just finished showering after her usual early morning training session, which was always the boost she needed to truly wake her up, and today was no exception.
She dressed quickly, forgoing the skimpier of her outfits since they had no missions requiring her playing bait on the agenda, and pulled her chest of weapons out from under her bed. It was a heavy old thing, an antique passed down to her from her paternal grandmother, Phoebe. She'd died the year Isabelle was born and the girl had no memories of her, a few of her keepsakes the only things that reminded Izzy that she had ever even been alive. That and the photos her father kept stashed away.
She'd been a formidable woman, and Izzy had always admired her for it.
Isabelle opened the lid on the chest and lifted a few of her daggers from the top compartment, examining them carefully to make absolutely certain they were clean and sharp and ready for use.
She looked up when there was a knock at her door, slipped two daggers into the holster around her thigh, and moved to open. On the other side, she found her brother, looking severely somber. More so than usual even, if that was possible.
"What's wrong?"
She stepped aside so he could come inside and closed the door behind him.
Alec noticed her smile flare and die down at the sight of his preoccupied expression, and it was unfortunate, but he had never tried to hide anything he felt from his sister. She was probably the only being that knew him best.
"We've been assigned a mission," he informed her and walked past her into the room. Her armory chest was sitting at the bed, open. She was about to start her training.
He considered sitting down, but couldn't quite settle yet, his body buzzing with irritation he couldn't rule down as fast as he wished to.
"We're going to Vegas. But you know what else?" He turned to her, sardonic. "That redhead goes with us."
"Vegas!" Isabelle's good mood immediately spiked again but she wasn't allowed much of a celebration before the reason for his annoyance became clear. "Clary? Why? Is the mission Valentine-related?"
Like her brother, she'd initially been skeptical of Clary Fairchild. Not because she was a stranger or because she'd been raised as a mundane, but because her presence had thrown their trio dynamic out of whack. Isabelle and 'her boys', that was. Jace had taken an immediate liking to the girl and with that came uncharacteristic and unpredictable behavior on his part, making what should have been even the simplest of missions become dangerous and tasking.
But over the past couple of weeks, Clary had spent with them, some of Izzy's resentment had faded. Clary was just a girl who'd been abruptly thrown into a world she knew nothing about, scared and lonely and missing her family. It wasn't her fault. Besides, her training thus far had proven she had potential.
"It's a recon mission due to some unexplained demonic activity," Alec explained, "and Valentine is always a potential reason. But they send her with us because they want us to babysit her in another city.
"Why is that even fair? I'm not a babysitter! I want to just do my work with no kids around to watch over. She'll get us in trouble someday, mark my word."
It was rare for Alec to vent his frustrations to anyone other than her and Jace, and that was probably part of the reason they were so close. They knew each other's secrets and kept them, offering advice where they could, and were generally always there if anyone in their trio needed anything.
That didn't quench her slight amusement at Alec's newest source of irritation.
"Well, it'll be a nice change of pace from Jace getting us in trouble," she teased, closing her weapon chest. "Besides, she needs to learn. Who better to observe than the cream of the crop?"
"I'll take Jace brand of trouble any time over a little girl that needs constant supervision." Alec frowned at her additional comment. "Stop channeling our father, it doesn't really help anything. Why not let Jace babysit her? He's one of us and he likes it. He likes her! Somehow. Why does she have to be my problem? It's counterproductive, is all I'm saying."
He heaved an irked sigh and lowered in the chair.
"Maybe he's worried Jace is getting too close? That she's a distraction to his work?" Izzy shrugged, hauling the chest off her bed and depositing it onto the floor before pushing it back in its place. "I assume that is why he's not joining us on this mission."
She placed her hands on her hips, observing the miserable expression on Alec's face.
"You're looking at this all wrong, big brother. We're going to Vegas! It's party central!" She doubted they'd be able to actually join in on any of the festivities. They rarely did. But at least they could watch, feel the excited energy of the mundanes dancing the night away. "It'll be nice to get out of The Institute for a while. How long are we going for?"
Alec scowled when she went for what she always chased - the party. He saw no point in partying when there was a whole world of work to do.
Her comment about Jace, however, rang true. He would be distracted more than was safe.
"He said nothing about when we're coming back," he shrugged. "Until further notice. We're going tomorrow. And Izzy, please, don't make me remind you why we're going. It's not a party - it's our mission."
She was already looking through her various dresses hanging on the rack next to her wardrobe, mentally choosing which to pack and which to leave behind. At his comment, she turned to flash Alec a look of warning over her shoulder.
"The day I fail to do my job because of a party is the day I'll allow you to chide me for it. Not before."
And despite her appreciation of fun, she'd yet to get distracted enough to neglect her duties. Alec knew that. Yet he worried. He worried about her a lot.
She turned to eye her clothes again. "Guess I'll pack for the long haul, then. Have you told Clary?"
Indignation flashed in his face. "Of course not. That'd be your task."
"Yeah, I figured." Alec avoided Clary whenever he could. "Are you going to be able to be civil on this trip?"
He gave her a mock reprimanding look. "I'm always civil."
"It's cute that you think that," she grinned, turning to face him again. "Have you had breakfast? I was just about to make some."
Alec made a face at the remark, and the scowl got deeper as she voiced the addition. "We have the diner. You don't have to cook. You have no time for it. And no, I'm not hungry. I need to go training."
"I like cooking." And she was decent at it. Would have been better if Mom had decided to teach her, but alas, Shadowhunter training took precedence. Still, she always cooked for herself whenever her schedule allowed it.
"I'll find Clary first, though. So she has some time to prepare."
"Prepare for what? Making our mission harder? She doesn't need to prepare for that - it comes naturally to her. She might not be a mundane by blood, Izzy, but she's one in her mind. And it can be lethal."
Isabelle sighed. "Cut her some slack, Alec. She didn't ask for any of this. Least of all to come with us on this mission."
"I'm not saying she asked for it. All I'm saying is she needs to tone down her rebellious urges to make rash decisions and thus create troubles for us. Meaning she needs to try to not be a mundane. Which you tell me she isn't."
"She survived the rune, Alec. And her parents are well-known Shadowhunters. Let's not start contesting those facts, hmm?"
"I'm not an imbecile, Izzy, I know she's not a mundane by blood. Like I said before. All I would like for this trip is for her to at least try to be less of a mundane. To just make it a bit easier to keep her protected. She lets her raging emotions rule her every move and impulse."
"True. But all the previous missions she has accompanied us on have been personal to her. This isn't. So perhaps it will be easier for her now."
Or so Isabelle hoped. Not that she didn't have her own flaws in that area – her temper especially – but it had rarely gotten in the way of their work.
Alec leaned his head back against the chair, his eyes closing as he covered his face with his hands for a moment, attempting to vent his thoughts and focus.
Then, he got up and started for the door.
"I'd like to hope, but it's a bit too much to hope for."
"Try not to worry excessively, brother," she said, following him to the door so she could go find Clary. "You're not alone in this."
Alec left her with a parting inscrutable look, closed her door behind her and muttered, "Why do I feel like I am, then?"
He shook his head and went for the training hall.
Because you can never relax even just a little bit. That's why.
Isabelle didn't voice those thoughts though, seeing as he was already striding away from her. She moved in the opposite direction, seeking out Clary's assigned bedroom. She wasn't there, so Isabelle turned on her heel and followed her brother to the training hall to check if the redhead had decided to get some extra training in. But she wasn't there, either.
"Hey Raj, have you seen Clary?" Isabelle asked one of her fellow warriors in passing.
"Valentine's daughter?" he responded, causing her to arch a brow. He knew her name. Everybody did and yet most still referred to her as Valentine's daughter. Like an insult. "I saw her heading for the cafeteria a little while ago."
It was fairly empty this time of day; most had already had breakfast and it was too early for lunch. Isabelle never liked to eat before her morning training sessions, however, and therefore often made use of this place when it was near abandoned. Only today, Clary was here. She was sitting at one of the tables by herself, looking as miserable as Alec had just minutes ago, prodding at an equally sad-looking muffin.
It didn't escape Clary that most the other Nephilim didn't like to sit with her, as if she were contagious or like everyone knew some weird secret that she hadn't been privy to.
She guessed it had to do with fraternizing with the enemy.
Thankfully, those that Clary had met – Jace, Isabelle, and Alec (when he had to), didn't seem to have the same kind of standoffishness. The only other people that talked to her was her trainer and one of the official Clave members she knew to be the Lightwood father.
Isabelle dropped down in the chair next to her and flashed a small smile. "Hey, Red."
"Hey," she greeted, looking up from her plate. "What's up?"
Isabelle leaned an arm on the back of her chair, considering Fray carefully. "Have you ever been to Las Vegas?"
"No. Mom wasn't much for traveling. Why?"
"We're going," Isabelle said, smiling slightly. "Tomorrow. You, me and Alec. We have a mission."
She wondered how Clary would feel about that. Especially leaving Jace behind for a bit when he was the one who had tried the hardest to make her feel at home and comfortable.
"A mission?" Clary asked dumbly.
Us? As in, the three of us? What about the information on my mother? Simon?
Las Vegas wasn't exactly a hop skip and a jump from New York City.
"What kind of mission? Is it to do with my mother? Is Jace going?"
She hadn't listed him in the shortfall of names and the fact that he wasn't in it was kind of a surprise since he'd been one of the few people to keep a consistent eye on her. Not that she'd seen him much lately.
"A mission," Isabelle repeated, getting to her feet to grab a glass of orange juice from the cold display counter. "There have been reports of increased demon activity in Vegas lately and the institute is sending us to investigate."
She took a sip and turned to watch Clary, leaning back against the counter.
"Most likely it has nothing to do with your Mom. But we don't know yet. And no, Jace is staying here. He has other responsibilities."
Searching for the Mortal Cup and Valentine being among them if Isabelle knew her parents. And she did.
This made sense to Clary and every inch of her was happy about getting out into the world again as she was beginning to feel like a bit of a prisoner, but it didn't feel like she should be out there. Not in the capacity of a mission.
She fought well enough, she was sure that she could help if need be, the problem was she wasn't exactly sure she wanted to be there, to face another one of those tentacle-faces dogs.
Clary still had nightmares.
She shuddered at the thought, pushed aside her unfinished muffin and moved to stand. "Do I get a weapon?"
Isabelle smirked against the rim of her glass, taking another sip before assuming an expression that was downright Alec-like. "If you promise to wield it responsibly." As for what kind of weapon, Isabelle didn't want to decide just yet. It would highly depend on their situations. "But this is a recon mission. Most of the time that means surveillance and collecting information, not fighting. It's a good opportunity for you to learn more about our world and how we work."
Clary had to admit that she was kind of excited about wielding a weapon, the closest she'd come before was a butter knife and she'd lost to black toast quite often.
She smiled, although it hadn't quite touched her eyes. "What about Simon? Is there any way I can get a message to him?"
Isabelle drew a breath, wincing sympathetically. She felt for her, she really did, but not enough to put everyone in danger. "I don't think that's a good idea, Clary. We're all safer if no one outside of the Institute knows where you are. Including Simon. If someone from the Circle finds out how close you are, they'll use him to get to you."
Clary knew that and understood the mentality and practice behind it, but who did he have now aside from his parents? His parent. "Are you guys keeping tabs on him? Making sure that they haven't gotten to him?"
Every night, Clary saw him snatched away like her mother, and at times strung up. She couldn't explain it and nor did she want to, but the nightmares filled her with foreboding and a fierce longing.
"We have people everywhere Valentine and his men might show up."
That included Simon Lewis and his family. Not only for their safety but because the Clave still wasn't convinced Clary wasn't secretly hiding the Mortal Cup somewhere. Meaning they had decided to keep track of everyone, mundane or otherwise, she'd been in frequent contact with these past few weeks.
"He'll be fine," Isabelle assured her. "If you help us keep him safe by following the Clave's commands."
She knew Clary didn't have a choice whether she followed the command or not. Clary couldn't go anywhere. They'd caged her with wards after her last few attempts at escaping and she could only imagine what would happen if she took this opportunity they were offering her – a privilege, really – and squandered it. And it could be so simple to do. At least in theory. Although both Lightwood siblings were formidable fighters.
She nodded and then glanced down at her chest. "Don't suppose we'll be able to go shopping once we get there?"
As much as she appreciated Isabelle extending her wardrobe to her, Clary missed her own clothes and the simple comforts of a pair of jeans and sneakers. She wasn't used to twenty-four-hour belly displays, skintight or eight-inch heels. She'd learned to walk in them over the last two weeks but doubted she'd be able to fight in them, let alone scale a step if things got hairy, besides, she missed the comforts of home.
"Or before. Not that I don't like your style or anything, I mean, I'm grateful—I just, I'd prefer my own stuff."
Isabelle sighed dramatically, though she never truly would understand the girl's preference of denim over leather.
"Doubt it," she mused, considering the possibilities. It wasn't as if she went shopping most of the time, either, but she had set up a few agreements with certain shops and they would send her clothing on a monthly basis. She'd simply return whatever items she didn't care for. She supposed, in time, she could help Clary make the same arrangements. "I might be able to send someone to your apartment, though. I'll talk to Alec."
Forgoing the homemade breakfast Isabelle had dreamed of earlier this morning, she grabbed an apple from one of the refrigerators and headed for the exit.
"Come on. Bring your sad muffin."
The fact that Isabelle had given her a semi-solution and hadn't outright said no to her request gave Clary a bit of hope. Maybe she could take more than just clothes?
She scooped up the sad muffin in question and finished it off as she followed the Lightwood girl out of the cafeteria. "Where are we going? A briefing?"
Isabelle held the door open for her and sauntered down the hallway with Clary in tow, making their way back towards command center and the training room she knew Alec to be currently occupying. "We're going to find my brother and discuss your clothing issue. He'll probably be mid-training but that's okay." She looked back at Clary over her shoulder, smiling. "Never hurts to observe one of the best fighters our race has to offer."
Clary nodded a thank you, stomach doing a slight loop the loop at the mention of having to tell Alec about her clothing issue.
If only we could have kept it between us girls.
She wasn't sure he'd be impressed with her request and it was no secret the guy didn't like her. Most of which Clary assumed had to do with Jace.
If Alec felt peckish before his visit to the Head Office, after leaving Izzy's room, he had no inclination, whatsoever, to eat, so he headed directly for the training. There was no one there, all room to himself was exactly what he needed.
He discarded his shirt and went for the punching bag, losing himself to the meditative state of working on the blows and moves. It took away the thoughts he wasn't fond of replaying.
The girls pushed into the training room and, like the cafeteria, found it abandoned, except for Alec who was taking his frustrations out on a punching bag. Isabelle put a finger to her lips to indicate silence from Clary and leaned back against the wall, watching him, the accuracy and strength of his blows and how the bag shook and swayed under the power of his fists.
Clary raised her hands in silent surrender, allowing her eyes to rove Alec's naked back, to appreciate his strength and the black ink they all adorned. She had seen the same kind of dedication on Isabelle the times that she'd watched her (not that it had been much, the Nephilim weren't all that privy to audiences and, unlike humans, they didn't cheer each other on in that way). Not generally.
Clary couldn't help but wonder though if there was ever a time in the future—near—when she'd have that kind of strength, precision, and grace.
She thought that she might, but it seemed out of reach, and despite what she knew, unbelievable at times. She still wasn't exactly sure she hadn't hit her head or wasn't in a coma somewhere. Maybe she'd been run over by a car after her interview with Brooklyn Art Academy and this was the world she'd cooked up for herself. A missing mother, loneliness and half-breed angels.
Isabelle waited a good ten minutes and until she saw sweat dripping down Alec's brow and shoulders before she cleared her throat and called attention to their presence. "Sorry to interrupt but I need a word."
Alec was so into the process and blissfully in that space where thoughts no longer formed coherent words to bother and stir his mind, that he didn't immediately register that the voice he heard in the background between his blows was directed at him and belonged to his sister.
The realization came a couple of seconds later and he caught the bag as it sprung back, stilling it, and turned to see Isabelle standing in the doorway with the Fairchild girl behind her. His muscles were buzzing with energy and a pleasant kind of light fatigue, and it didn't let the annoyance to immediately grip him as hard as it had before he had given it an outlet.
He picked his shirt up, wiping his forehead on it, and tossed it over his shoulder, approaching Izzy and folding his arms. "If it's about the trip, you might want to ask the Heads."
"It's not," Isabelle said, hands on her hips as he approached. "Clary needs a few of her things from home. Clothes and shoes that actually fit her, for one. Not everyone can run and fight in stilettos." She looked back over her shoulder at Clary with a smile. "Don't feel bad about that, by the way. I've had years of practice." Turning to face her brother again, she met his gaze. "Can we send someone to fetch her things? Or, better yet,–" She grinned, an idea forming, "–why don't you escort her? It'd be quicker."
And the two of them could use some time together to work out their kinks without Jace being present.
Even before she uttered her 'or better yet', he knew. He knew her so well he wanted to punch the wall next to her, but made an effort to keep it off his face. His hands, though, unwittingly balled into fists.
"How would I possibly make it quicker? I'm not a girls' clothing advisor. Why don't you ask Jace, and both of you can go there with her. I've… I'm busy here."
Clary remained at her post against the wall, watching sweat run down his back, biceps glistening like a polished stripper, the thought made her grin with misplaced amusement.
And then it was gone.
She'd expected his denial of what she wanted, of the trip, but he didn't say no, instead he shot down his sister's request gratefully and tried to shirk the responsibility.
Okay by Clary, she preferred Jace and Isabelle as neither snapped at her at a second's rate – not anymore. She could live with either and she wasn't sure she and Alec would survive a mundane mission like that. Not that she couldn't be nice, she was, but his cynical and bitey attitude made it a challenge.
What she had to take from this, though, was that he hadn't said no and that Isabelle actually understood her concerns, even if it was a fraction of an excuse.
"I'm not expecting anyone to advise," Clary added, just so it was clear to both. "I can smash and grab like the best of them."
Isabelle threw another glance at Clary and gestured she excuse them for a moment, taking Alec by the bicep and leading him far enough away that they could whisper without her overhearing.
Clary smiled her understanding to Isabelle and moved toward her space at the wall so they could speak privately. She didn't even mind. The fact that they were debating who was getting to take her home and not IF she got to go was a relief.
"Look," Isabelle began, grimacing subtly at her now sweaty hand, which she hurriedly wiped on the thigh of his trousers. "If there's one thing we agree on, it's that Jace gets distracted when he's around her. That won't happen with you. You'll take her to the apartment, give her ten minutes to collect her things, and bring her right back here again.
"Look at it as a trial run. You're worried about her coming on our mission. And if this little task increases your concerns, at least you'll have something valid to bring to Dad if you decide to contest his decision."
Which was a rare thing for Alec to do, but in this case, Isabelle didn't doubt he would.
Throwing excuses about Jace and his newfound weakness didn't make him feel any better about having to go anywhere alone with the girl who rarely failed to disrespect their regulations. Alec heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes.
"Why don't you want to go with her? Why is it always me who has to save Jace's precious focus with my own? He's equally your brother as he is mine. And you and the redhead are both girls. I just don't see how it's better if I go and you don't."
"Because I'm not the one who has a problem with her," she whispered, prodding his chest with a finger. "You do. For your own sake and the sake of our mission, you should at least try to sort out this resentment you feel towards her."
Advice he'd given her on several occasions in the past whenever her temper had flared. Most often in relation to their parents and the strict expectations they had of them. Expectations Isabelle always struggled to live up to.
Alec made an indignant huff. "I don't have any problems with her or anyone. There's no resentment, I merely don't want to be a babysitter. It's not what I've been training to do, is all. You like her so well, so go ahead and help her pack a bag."
Annoyed now, her eyes narrowed to slits and the urge to kick him in the shin as she often had when they were small children resurfaced. "You've been trained to protect those who cannot protect themselves. We all have. You're suddenly too good for that now? Too high and mighty?" Isabelle looked him over. "Fine. Have it your way."
She turned and headed back for Clary with a smile that didn't feel all too genuine right now.
"Looks like you're stuck with me. I'll grab my sword and we can go."
Alec scowled at the outrage – he didn't expect her anger to flare at what he perceived as a simple discussion. "Oh, so now you're suddenly okay to go? How hard was it to decide it from the start – that it's best all three go. You two aren't the best option to be left on your own, either." He strolled past them. "I've to shower first."
Isabelle was always okay to go but clearly, he had missed her point completely. Either that or he just didn't want to see it. She simply gave a nod of acknowledgment to his announcement he was hitting the showers first, then turned to face Clary. "Sorry about that."
Neither looked happy once they broke apart from their private conversation – Clary was. She was going home! She might not be staying and knew for a fact that there was nothing waiting there for her, but the idea of a brief familiarity was a comfort, nonetheless.
"Not your fault," she stated genuinely. "I rub him the wrong way. Don't suppose you know of a way I could change that?"
If she could figure out what she'd done and what his exact problem with her was, the easier their working relationship would be.
"My brother is a stickler for the rules. He likes order and logic sense. He doesn't trust strangers easily. To you, I'm sure he can seem cold and unwelcoming, but in truth, his ability to not let emotions get the best of him makes him a superior warrior. And it's how we were raised. How all Shadowhunter children are raised," Isabelle admitted, opening the door and leading the way back towards the command center. She suspected there were other reasons Alec didn't particularly care for Clary's company. Jace's response to her, how it affected him, being one of them. But Isabelle didn't want to voice this aloud. "So, my advice to you when you're out there together is to follow his lead. Don't stray. Do what he tells you. If he tells you to hide, hide. If he tells you to run, run. If he tells you to do a cartwheel, cartwheel your little butt off. Because the fact is he will defend you with his life. And all he asks in return is that you make it easier on him by not putting yourself or anyone else in danger."
The idea of Izzy coming with them had actually lifted a bit of weight off Alec's shoulders but didn't erase the whole of the pent-up frustration, just like erasers can't get all of the pencil off the paper when it's been pressed too hard while writing.
He let out a long exhale as if to breathe out that unpleasant energy he was tired of already, and tossed his shirt into the laundry basket as he headed for the shower. Chill water brought him a bit of a distraction and cleansed his head.
When he walked out with a towel around his hips to get his pants and a shirt, Jace got up from the chair, surprising him. Alec didn't lock the door, but he didn't expect to see him, either. He thought Jace was out somewhere with a few other hunters.
"Something wrong?" Alec asked.
Jace smiled briefly, shaking his head. "No. I just… I heard about that Vegas mission. Wanted to wish you luck before you went and… well, it's a shame I'm not joining you. You know when you're coming back yet?"
"No. I assume we come back when we're ordered to, as usual."
Alec studied him, his demeanor pulled the wrong strings in Lightwood. Like something was off. Jace had never been anything but crystal clear or honest with Alec, even when it was about his many extracurricular affairs he sometimes seemed to compete at with his sister. But now, Alec heard something out of tune in his voice.
Jace took it in with a pensive nod of acknowledgment, then glanced at him in an uncertain way Alec wasn't accustomed to seeing on him, either. "Did they tell you why I'm staying behind?"
"Because you're needed here to keep an eye out for Valentine and any activity that would alert us to his location. Why, you think something else is the reason?"
He shrugged, pacing languidly to the bookshelf. "Because of Clary, isn't it?" He turned to pierce Alec with a probing look.
"It is," he answered honestly.
Jace wasn't happy with the answer but was aware of it before Alec confirmed. "I merely tried to show compassion to a girl who had her world turn upside down in one day. It's what we are, isn't it? The beings of compassion and light and love, all about sympathy, aren't we?"
Alec sighed, feeling for his confusion, although knowing it was only partial. Deep down, Jace realized he might be feeling more than he advertised.
"You've been investing more interest than that into her, Jace, and it began to influence your focus. But it's just my assessment. The Heads haven't told me that, nor asked me to share that insight, so I haven't. They told me what I said before: you're staying to keep up the search here."
Jace pressed his lips into a thin line, looking down at his boots, his arms folded, then nodded. "Uh-huh. Fine. Just… keep each other safe out there. Good luck."
He made himself smile; Alec returned it with a nod, and he waved and left.
Alec drew a deep breath, held it, then let it out, rubbing his neck absentmindedly. It didn't feel good, nor right. That girl had brought something alien into their tandem, and he didn't feel at home with this. He didn't want to get used to this new and confusing energy Jace carried with him now. All Alec could hope for was that Jace got over it while they were away. It was for the best that he stayed behind. He needed his head cleared.
Alec pulled the towel off and got dressed, then went to the armory to get the bow and quiver.