Title: Improving Angels
Plot: Mona Williams, a sixteen year old New Yorker in the 50s stumbles upon a group of shadowhunters. Blessed with the sight she witnesses the killing of a faery, not knowing that her life is about to unravel.
Authors Note: Hello! Welcome to my story. I've never really written anything like this before. Usually I stick to the characters in the book and hardly ever create my own. But what the heck? Here we go. Anyway as many of you past-readers know I am not very reliable on the whole updating thing (i.e. that story that I haven't updated in 2 months…yeah… sorry about that) but we'll see how this works out! I tend to lose interest quickly but if enough of you like it I'll force myself to write more! Anyway I hope you enjoy this story. I'll have to do some research because all I really know about the 50s are flappers, lipstick, and cigarettes. I hope you enjoy it though! Thanks, Jolie
Mona stumbled through the foggy haze of cigarette smoke and hot breath, finally making her way out of the building and onto the frosted sidewalk of a cold New York. It was just at the point of the year where the seasons were changing. Fall leaves clung to their frozen braches. The green grass of the park across the street, usually lush during the day had sacrificed its life for the frigid cold. Rats stayed to their dug out tunnels and vents, garbage bags lay in heaps under dried leaves and bits of brown snow. It was Mona's favorite time of year. The time where she felt most alive, or at least she would have.
The sweet tones of a trumpet echoed out to her on the street. Trumpet, where it usually soothed her just made her feel nauseous. She had never had this much to drink before, had never really ever drank before. Except the occasional sip of wine allowed by her parents, she had never been drunk..
But that had all changed tonight.
She felt sick to her stomach and made a mental note that if she was going to throw up in the street to make sure she didn't do it on her new polka dotted dress, because then her mother would definitely known where she'd been.
"You okay, sweetheart?" A bearded man smoking a cigarette said when he wasn't taking a pull. Even standing a couple feet from him he reeked of cigarettes and gin and sex. "Sweetheart?" He asked, moving closer and putting a sly hand on her back and began lowering it. She swiped him off and staggered into the street. She didn't want him to touch her, didn't want to be anywhere near him! She was no harlot!
"Suit yourself" she heard him mumble as he sauntered back into the club. She couldn't help imagining how he would go back in and find himself another girl. A different dress maybe, but a victim none the less. It was all too familiar to her though, and she couldn't stand remembering such horrible things. Mona shook. From the cold or the memory she didn't know.
Making her way across the rest of the street Mona tried to sober herself up. Getting to the gates of central park she pressed her cheeks into them. They were shockingly cold, which brought her back a bit but not enough to stop her hands from shaking. It was a nice feeling though. It contrasted her burning cheeks. She pulled her hair back with her hands and straightened her dress. She would at least try to look respectable for her mother, all though Mona knew she would see right through her. Mona bent down; making sure her stockings weren't ripped when she heard a scream. A horrible shrill, shock of a scream and stopped dead, but silence was all that followed.
Mona straightened up. Could she have imagined it? Was she drunk enough to imagine things? Did you even imagine things when you were drunk? She had so many questions but one pulsed rapidly in her head. Who had screamed?
She couldn't help imagining another girl, like herself, like the one the bearded man would find in the club. She couldn't just abandon someone in such need, so in a moment of passion in fury Mona stormed through the surprisingly opened gates. It seemed like a sign that the gates were unlocked. Like she was meant to go in and save a girl from the unfortunate fate that she had never been saved from herself. It felt like some sort of redemption, some sort of justice, which was hardly seen these days. With her maryjanes crunching the rigid grass she made her way through the west side entrance, not knowing at all where she was going. Realizing this she stopped. No sound, no nothing. She was about to realize how completely ridiculous this all was when she heard another scream.
This time though it was more animalistic. Still shrill and helpless but there was something else behind it. Something like the gnashing of sharp teeth and pounding of a drum. The scream was enough though. She thrashed through the low hanging branches of oak and birch trees until she reached the scene. Stopping quickly to avoid revealing herself, she hid behind a tree.
"You dirty stinking creatures!" She heard a boy's voice of her age yell but couldn't match the voice to the face. "I don't even see why we let you live!" Mona saw the exasperated man who was speaking now. He held a leather whip at his side and flicked it towards the girl in between his snarls. He was dressed all in leather, besides from some of the shinning metal surrounding his wrists and ankles. Swirling black tattoos covered his limbs and disappeared under his leather clothing. He had a bit of scruff on his face and circles under his jaded eyes. His muddy brown hair matched the dirt at his feet perfectly and Mona couldn't help but think that he would be better off as dirt, rather then a regular human being.
"Queen's orders." The girl said with a snarl of her own. "He deserved to die." She smirked and swung her skirts a bit. If Mona had been thinking clearly she would have noticed that the girl was too thin and what she thought was an outrageous green wig where actually tangled vines. And that what she thought was an oddly pattered dress was really her cracked skeleton.
"Queen's orders?" The boy almost chocked. "He was my friend!" The whip at his side twitched. For the first time Mona realized the duo behind him. Another boy with rumpled black hair, high arches, and piercing blue eyes that she could make out from miles away and the other… a girl? Mona couldn't believe another woen would watch a fellow friend get harassed like this! What an outrage, to just stand and watch!
"He was a thief and a murder. He killed our best knight with no fair reason." The girl said like it was the most obvious thing she could imagine, even though it sounded ridiculous to her.
"No fair reason? There's always a reason to kill one of you lot!" He said harshly and raised the whip high over his head. That was enough. Mona couldn't take it any more. De-fisting her hands and mustering up enough courage she stormed over.
"What do you think you're doing?" She tried to say with force but it came out too girly and a bit slurred.
The whip froze midair and all four pairs of eyes darted over to her. Well technically five since the girl had an extra set. Mona gasped and stumbled a bit. "Whaa-aat isss is-" She couldn't make it out. Was this a hallucination? She was sure it was. She should have listened to her mother and never gone out tonight.
"What? Who are you?" The boy with the whip exclaimed. "Where did you come from?" All eyes seemed overlay surprised. Except the girl's… or whatever she was. She seemed a bit too amused. And the boy with the black hair seemed oddly calm, like nothing ever surprised him.
"192 West thirty sec-" She started to say but then realized that wasn't what he meant and started to accept the fact that she really was drunk.
"Drew will you take care of that?" The boy holding the whip said seemingly taking control of the situation. "I've got some business to-" He stopped realizing that the "girl" had disappeared somewhere into the wood behind her and was no where to be seen. "You blasted little-" He said to her with his fists in the air and then turned back to the empty space in front of him. She was glad for the girl though. At least she had gotten away.
She started to back up. The black haired boy Drew was making his way towards her, but she thought maybe she could out run him. If she slipped off her shoes and hid in one of the trees. She knew the park like the back of her hand. Walked it very often, and if she couldn't beat him on foot she could definitely out smart him. She turned to take one last look at the horrible boy with the whip when his mouth opened in an O and his hands flung to his belt.
"Drew!" He screamed, "Watch out, behind you!" But it was too late for her. The sharp feeling of piercing teeth filled her and it was followed be the gushing heat of warm blood and a light feeling as she lost her balance and fell back into a cold, grassy void.