Cambridge to Boston,
Lives in a world she's lost in. Victim of compromise.
He's staring at her Aberdeen heart,
London eyes,
Glasgow bone.
She's a whistle in the catacombs, A paradox.
He's in love with the statue in a marble block.
He's in love with the girl that time forgot.
The Girl, Hellberg Ft Cozi Zuehlsdorff
For centuries, shadowhunters have lived and fought, spilling their sweat and blood to defend the unsuspecting human world. Nephilim die every day. Our kind die by the hands of demons, they die to protect others, they die because that is what we do. We fight, we die; It's a simple fact of life- for shadowhunters and mundanes. Too bad mundanes are too oblivious to see what is going on right under their noses; it's sad, really. To be so blind would be horrible; it would make you weak and worthless. Staying ahead of the game is the only way to survive in this world.
Good thing I was trained by the very best.
Valentine Morgenstern, one of the greatest shadowhunters of his generation, was my father. Jocelyn Fairchild, a well-known artist throughout the shadow world, was my mother. She painted all sorts of things; family portraits for the rich, great murals for the Clave. She even sketched a few things for the latest edition of the Shadowhunter Codex. That is, until they were murdered, right before my eyes.
But, I'm a big girl now. I vowed to avenge them. I will find that worthless 'greater' demon and destroy him. Those kinds of demons are unworthy of being called 'greater' demons. They are repulsive, evil creatures that should be killed. Then again, all shadowhunters feel this way, and I'm not the only one who has lost a parent, or even both. That's why I decided to suck it up and deal with it. That's life.
I'm thankful for the time I had with my parents. They were caring, loving, and they trained me to be the best of my generation. My mother was beautiful, and had an amazing affinity for art. I inherited all of my physical traits from her, from my curly red hair, straight down to my short stature and love of art. My other talents though, are all thanks to my father's nonstop training. My father was a sort of prodigy throughout the shadow community; demons trembled at the mention of his name. Downworlders stayed out of his way, and allied themselves with him when needed, just to be on his good side. Young shadowhunters looked up to him in awe. That's my father, and I am his daughter: fierce, strong, and loyal above all else. I am Clarissa Morgenstern.
And now, many years later, I find myself aimlessly walking the foreign streets of New York City. Growing up in Idris, there were no cars with blaring horns, no jumbo-trons screaming at you to buy redundant mundane items, and everything wasquieter and much more peaceful. Here, everything is all hustle bustle and rude people and noise.
The sun is setting as I turn onto a much quieter, industrial section of the large city. The putrid smell of rotting garbage is strewn in the grimy streets, and abandoned warehouses line along the shore of the toxic-looking river.
Stopping in a narrow side alley, I pull out my witchlight and scout the alley for danger. Deeming the area clear for now, I return the smooth stone to my pocket and lean against the grimy brick wall letting my head fall back, and closing my eyes. I silently pull out my stele and trace a hearing rune onto my neck, feeling the tip glide over the faded scar where I have re-applied that rune countless times. I put my stele away and breathe in deeply, centering myself and listening. Listening for what? I don't know yet, but I listen for anything, any signs of demonic or downworld activity. Something to bide my time.
Other than the occasional skittering of rats and the constant noise from the city proper, there is nothing. After what seems like eons of waiting, I hear a faint rustle in the distance, the comforting sound of metal on metal, clicking together, and thick leather clothing brushing together quietly. Shadowhunters, from the sounds of it. The way they walk is careful and precise, yet I can still hear it from a far distance. The tell-tale signs of demons drift through the air as well, making my nose scrunch up at the disgusting smell. Like garbage, but a hundred times worse. The smell is worse than rotting garbage and feces- disgusting and putrid.
The clicking and slithering noises drift my way as well, so I straighten up from my position leaning against the wall, itching to join in a fight. After tracing silence, strength, and agility runes onto my pale, already-scarred skin, I slink my way in the general direction of the noises. Seeing a closed dumpster right up against a low building, I easily jump onto it, and quickly scale the side of the wall, and stand in a crouch at the top of the building.
From the new vantage point, I can see some of the skyline, but skyscrapers and smog clouds the rest of it. Scanning the ground, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, and turn just in time to see the flash of a leather sheathed sword disappear into a crumbling warehouse building. So, here are the shadowhunters I heard earlier. Staying in a crouch, I move to the edge of the roof and gracefully drop down, never losing my balance.
Well they aren't watching their backs very well; If I were a demon I could have already killed them, I think with a small frown on my face as I edge to the doorway that they entered through. Stopping with my back against the wall next to the open door, I slowly peer around the corner and into the warehouse. Standing there were three young shadowhunters, all of them looking to be around my age- seventeen. The leader, obviously the eldest, has a quiver of arrows on his back and a bow in hand, and his black hair contrasts beautifully with his piercing blue eyes. The girl has long black hair, like her brothers, and they looked like they could be twins if not for her dark brown eyes. A beautifully crafted electrum whip was partially wrapped around her wrist, with the rest dangling down, ready at any moment.
It was the last boy that really caught my eye, though. He looked like the complete polar opposites of the other two. If they were night, then he was day, with his golden halo of hair and eyes that looked like liquid gold. While the dark-haired siblings had a milky pale complexion, similar to my own, the blonde boy had a perfect golden tan that people pay big money for, and he seemed to glow with his own light. I don't pay much attention to boys or dating, but this boy- no, this man- is absolutely stunning. I feel as if looking too long will burn my eyes, like trying to stare at the sun. They're here for a reason, there are demons nearby. I can't be distracted by a boy I don't even know.
The trio falls silent, nodding in agreement. They draw their weapons and silently stalk their way further into the warehouse. In order to keep them in my line of sight, I have to follow their lead, staying in the shadows and behind old crates.
As we progress forward- well, as I follow them- the slithering and skittering demon sounds become louder and more predominant in the creaky old building. The three shadowhunters turn a corner, so I edge up against the wall and stand there listening. With a bang that sounds like someone breaking down a door, followed instantly by the sounds of seraph blade slicing demons, I turn the corner and see the three enter a large room.
Deciding to keep my distance, I crouch on a crate that gives me a perfect view of the room through the huge doors. I see the leader, the boy with the black hair, standing near the entrance still and letting arrows fly into various demons. The other two are also faring well on their own; the tall girl flicks her electrum whip around a demons torso, and slices the demon in half. It shrivels and folds in on itself.
The beautiful blonde boy has a seraph blade in each hand and dances around, slaying demon after horrid demon. He is very well trained, obviously, and the way he moves is smooth and graceful, yet deadly at the same time. His movements mesmerize me and I find myself staring. I probably shouldn't stare, I should be focused and watch my own back, but looking away doesn't seem like an option.
Luckily, some part of my instincts were still working, not very quickly, but they worked none-the-less. While watching the golden boy, I barely caught a shimmering movement out of the corner of my eyes. It looked like a shadowy mist, and it didn't have any shape to it at all.
It took me a moment to ponder what it was, but when I did, a hand flew to my mouth and the tears sprung to my eyes. I haven't cried since my parents' death, and I certainly will not cry now. I especially won't cry for the greater demon that literally scared my parents to their grave.
Agramon, the demon of fear, was in this very building, probably feeling up the other shadowhunters' minds so that it could morph into their greatest fears. The demon did not sense me, so I was safe for the time being. I pulled out my stele and drew the fearless rune onto my chest. There is no rune like it anywhere; not in the Grey Book, not in the Codex, and not in any other book either. I created this rune right before my parents died; they knew what was going to happen to them, so my mother had me think hard, think about being brave and strong, and the image came to my mind right then and there. I drew the rune onto me, and that's the only thing that saved me from the greater demon that killed them.
I had to help the other shadowhunters, I'm the only one who can. Whilst drawing the rune onto me, I hear a bloodcurdling scream, a scream that chilled me to the bone.
Without looking into the room, I edge up and lean my back against the wall, then peek around the corner. The blonde boy and the girl stop to stare at the blue-eyed boy who is screaming bloody murder at nothing. When they turn to where he is pointing, their eyes go wide. The girl drops to the ground and covers her face screaming no, stop, over and over again. The golden, blonde boy looks starkly pale, like all the blood has drained from his body.
I know I have to do something, so I grab the small flask of Holy Water that I keep on me at all times, and run towards the mist.
"Hey!" I scream, and successfully catch its attention. The others drop to the ground unconscious. I can see a vague face in the mist, and it leers at me. When it discovers that its power won't work, I leer back at it and fling the water onto it. A hissing noise comes from the shadow, and its dark tendrils recoil in pain. With a laugh I grip my three blessed daggers by the blade, ignoring the sharp pain and blood trickling on my hand, and I expertly throw them at Agramon. Surprisingly, the daggers do not go right through it, they hit dead center and stay there. The mist slowly dissipates with a hiss, and I know it will be back soon.
I walk over to the dark-haired boy since he seems to be the most affected. I draw a calming rune, as well as an iratze for any other injuries. Then, I do the same for the girl, and the golden boy.
When I get to the blonde boy, I kneel down and my heart speeds up a little. Blood trickles down his head, so I draw an iratze on his neck. To make sure the wound healed, I brushed back his soft golden curls and inspect his head. He stirs and groans a little bit at my touch.
"Can't keep your hands off, can you Red?" he mutters under his breath and his eyes open a slit. I sit back on my heels at shock that he recovered so quickly. "Ah!" he hisses in pain when he tries to sit up, so I help him into a sitting position and lean away again.
"We need to get out of here, that demon will be back soon," I say urgently, and he just looks at me.
"Who are you?" he asks with curious sparkle in his eyes.
"Not important. Get up, we have to go," I repeat in a stern tone, and hold out a hand to help him up. He refuses the helping hand, and gets up on his own, with some difficulty, might I add.
"Get Isabelle, I'll get Alec," he says and points to the girl who is on the ground still.
I kneel next to her and gently shake her shoulder, trying to wake her up. When that doesn't work, I panic a bit and have to check her pulse to make sure she's alive. The pulse is steady and strong, thankfully, but she still doesn't wake up.
"She's out cold," I call over to the others and the blonde boy walks over to help, but I pick up Isabelle on my own with little difficulty. The dark haired boy, Alec slowly walks over to us with a guarded look on his face.
"Who are you?" he asks sharply and watches me closely, probably to make sure I don't hurt his sister.
"Look, I just saved your asses, if I wanted to do anything, I would've already," I snap at him and he looks annoyed. I hand Isabelle to him and walk over to a wall and pull out my stele.
When I start to trace the portal rune, also one of my creation, I get more questions, but I wave them off. As soon as the portal is finished, I wave towards it.
"It'll take you to your Institute. You're welcome, by the way," I add on sarcastically, since no one thanked me.
"You're not going to come with us? Our mother runs the New York Institute and she'll have questions," the dark haired boy explains with a weary expression. He obviously wants some answers.
"No, I have things to do, people to save," I smirk at them sarcastically and turn to leave; I made the portal to close right after them.
"Hey!" the blonde boy yells and jogs up to me, catching my wrist before I can escape. "Jace Lightwood. Still didn't catch your name," he says in a tone that would make a mundane girl swoon, or probably feint.
I pull my wrist free easily and put my hand on my waist, and attempt a one eyebrow raise, but it doesn't work out very well.
"That's my business," I say mysteriously, then add on a little more. "Good luck, Goldie Locks." I turn on my heel and leave before he can say anything, but I can feel his gaze burning into the back of my head as I walk away, disappearing into the shadows.