Chapter 1: Coffee Catastrophe
Stepping in front the bitter cold, Clary entered into the frosty January day. She wore her favorite scarf with small specks of gold, a thick pale winter coat, a pair of gray velvet suede boots that boosted her height, and a pair of paint splattered gloves. Clary couldn't wait to get back to the academy; a semester of art would await her. She made her way across the street and stepped into a quiet coffee shop.
The bells jingled, signaling the entering of a new customer. Jace glanced up from his Playboy magazine and sighed. So much for starting the day off fresh, he conveniently stuck the magazine under the cabinet, crinkling it in the process. He couldn't wait to get back to Idris after finishing his vacuous assignment.
When Clary stepped into her usual cafe, she hadn't expected a Calvin Klein underwears model. His wild blonde hair flew in all directions as he brushed his hand through it. She felt tempted to pet it, to smooth it down. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes traveled downwards. His eyes bored into her, gold and all. He's a rapist, was Clary's first immediate thought. No way in hell does someone have that many tattoos. Sure enough, littering the young man's arms, neck and hands were tattoos that made absolutely no sense to Clary. They seemed to be symbols. His sharp jaw line and perfect upturned nose made Clary's hands itched. She felt an urge to draw him. To paint him and all his glory.
"Hello, my name is Jace," Jace said in a monotonous, yet seductive tone. "How may I help you today?"
Damn, Clary thought. Even his voice is hot.
"I would like a black coffee," Clary answered. "No sugar, no cream."
"Your name please?" Jace pressed a few buttons on his screen and yawned.
"Clary." She replied. "Clary Fray."
At the mention of this name, Jace's eyebrows flew up. Didn't Hodge say something about a Clary? Clary Fairchild? He shook his head; he must be tricking himself, he wouldn't remember something this specific. He was way too ignorant to remember something like that. Especially a useless name like that.
"Alright Clary," Jace stated. "Please wait a few minutes as I prepare your drink for you."
The machine whirled, shook and spewed out dark coffee. The rich brown color filled the paper cup.
"Your total will be $3.25," Jace announced as he handed her the cup. As Clary searched her wallet for change, her hands accidently knocked over the coffee, spilling it over the counter and onto the floor. Jace scowled. This girl had just ruined his perfectly good Playboy magazine. Not to mention the fact that the magazine held many images that aroused Jace very much. He hustled into the storage closet and took out a stringy mop. The scowl didn't leave his face as he mopped up the mess that the customer had created. As he glanced by up, he caught sight of the Clary girl furiously wiping at her eyes. He immediately felt bad. His Playboy magazine could wait. He returned to making her a second cup of coffee.
"Nice tattoos," Clary said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
Jace was so startled at her comment that he dropped the cup of coffee, resulting in another failed attempt to prepare his customer her coffee.
"I'm so sorry!" Clary managed to squeak. "Did I say something wrong?"
"You.." Jace said incredulously. "You can...see my marks?"
His voice raised an octave by the time he finished his sentence. He didn't keep the panic out of his voice as his eyes searched the shop. He sent a silent thank you to Raziel for the empty cafe.
"Marks?" Clary asked, confused. "What marks? I said I liked your tattoos."
Stupid mundanes, Jace thought briefly. Always assuming things.
"Oh," he deadpanned. "Right, my tattoos. Why thank you."
"No problem," her last response put them back into an intolerable silence. Jace continued stirring the third and hopefully the last cup of coffee. He handed it to her, accepted the cash, and waved goodbye.
Clary managed a thank you and left, scurrying out the coffee shop mumbling about being late. He watched as her fiery red hair flew with the wind.
Jace gave a slight shrug at her retreating figure. He glanced at the clock wondering when he would be able to leave this hellhole. One customer and he was already tired.
After twenty minutes or so, Meliorn had taken over the shift. Jace ran about, gathering his belongings and throwing his bomber jacket on. Just as he's about to leave, Meliorn calls out to him.
"Hey, Jace?" He called. "What's this?"
He held up a soggy and stained Playboy magazine and Jace grimaced.
"Oh…" He started. "You see…." Meliorn raised an eyebrow. Jace hurried out the door.
Clary sprinted to her class with a burning cup of coffee in her hand. Her floral messenger bag banged against her thighs as she ran through the busy Manhattan streets.
Huffing, she ran up the steps of the academy and strolled into an art studio. The majority of the students had arrived, each working on a piece of art. Clary walked towards one corner of the colossal classroom and joined her friend Simon Lewis who was focused on a charcoal drawing. She dropped her messenger bag onto the painted covered floors and left to retrieve her unfinished drawing. On her way back, she grabbed a charcoal art kit essential for the drawing. In it contained light wash graphite, medium wash graphite, white charcoals of different sizes, compressed charcoals, and much more.
Clary returned to her station beside Simon and began filling in her drawing. Her hand moved effortlessly and flew on the paper. The vine shaped charcoal danced along the painting under her control. Clary was in her own world; no one could pull her away from her art.
That was until someone tapped her on the shoulder. Clary jumped, making the charcoal fly upwards, creating a thin streak of black across her artwork.
"SIMON FRIGGING LEWIS!" Clary shut her eyes, not believing what actually happened. Knowing that her soft voice and small figure would not scare Simon, kept her eyes closed. "Look at what you did!" Only then did she notice what she drew, but ignored it for the tie being.
"Sorry?" A familiar yet mysterious voice replied. Where had she heard this before?
"You're not Simon," Clary drawled, panicking. Where had she heard this voice?
"No shit Sherlock." The guy chuckled. "You can open your eyes you know."
Clary opened her eyes and snapped them shut just as quick.
No no no, she screamed internally. Please. Not him. Anyone BUT him.
"I see you can't resist my charms," he stated smugly. "Too hot for you?"
She opened her eyes, coming face to a male chest. A very defined chest. Her eyes face this mysterious man's face and found his eyes, golden and enchanting, boring into her very soul.
Jace was exceptionally surprised by the fact that the little girl had spotted his marks. After he had left the coffee shop, he had slipped into a dark alley and pulled out his witchlight and stele. He ran the stele over the rune of rune invisibility. He really needed to pay more attention during How to Survive in the Mundane World lessons. As he traced the rune, he frowned. The runes were already covered with a sheet of invisibility.
She must have the sight, Jace thought. Oh well. Sucks to be her.
He threw his dark, gothic backpack over his shoulders and ran. As he ran down the cracked and uneven sidewalks of Manhattan, he glanced at his heat-sensitive watch.
8:18, it read. However, checking the time wasn't the only reason he looked at it. The changing colors of the watch gave him an idea of the demons' whereabouts, although there was a downside. If the demons were shape shifters, they would be impossible to track. Jace was, however, extremely thankful for the invention of this heat-sensitive watch. He couldn't bear having to draw on his heat-sensitive rune repeatedly. As he walked, his watch beeped and flashed a vibrant red.
Damn it, Jace thought crossly. I can't fucking get to class without a single goddamn problem. Especially the frigging class he's currently flunking.
He slid into an alley yet again and pulled his sleeve up. He ran his stele along a small area above his wrist, allowing a compass to appear. A tracking rune was what it was called. He then proceeded to hover his stele above a large piece of his skin near his elbows. The runes blazed and slowly became visible. Jace winced slightly at the sting. As he watched both the strength rune and the heightened speed rune appear, he smirked slightly.
Watch out y'all bloody idiots, he mused. This is for interrupting my day.
He burst into a nearby brothel, ready to fight an entire army of demons. Grimacing at the heavy smell of alcohol and beer, he allowed the tracking rune to lead him to the first demon. He circled the brothel multiple times without success. However, on his 3rd time around, his watch gave out, giving a slight shudder and blanking out. Without his watch, his compass rune abruptly stopped, signaling the end of the search. He tailed around for a few for minutes annoyed at the sudden stop.
God DAMN this watch, Jace thought as he mumbled a few colorful words that would definitely make an Angel blush and sneaked back outside. However, on his way to the double doors, he was abruptly pushed up against a stained dark wall. The back of his head made a cracking sound at the impact. Wincing, he tried to wrench free, only to be choked. Kicking his legs back, he flipped the mysterious figure and both landed on the ground breathing heavily. Keeping the figure pinned on the ground, Jace raised himself.
Sebastian, Jace thought. The name brought a bitter taste to Jace's mouth. What the hell does he want now?
This work of "art" was definitely Sebastian's work. The veins of this demon bulged out, creating an intimidating look. His once pale and flawless skin now resembles a sickly gray. Peeling, cracked, and bubbling with acne.
Grabbing a dagger that was concealed, Jace shifted his position.
"Erela!" Jace whispered as the dagger glowed a luminous gold. It quivered in his hands, waiting to be set free. Waiting to plunge into the victim's non-beating heart.
Taking a deep breath, Jace set the dagger free, only to result in a disappointing surprise. The demon had disappeared right into the thin air, becoming one with the mist and wind.
Ugh, Jace growled and shoved men aside. Maryse was definitely not going to be excited about this. With this new breed of demons, it would be completely impossible to kill. Jace was deep in thought as he stepped into the daylight. Then for the hundredth time that day, he quietly slipped into an alley to inspect the damage this idiotic yet swift demon caused on his beautifully tan complexion. He glared at nothing in particular as he caught sight of a tear in his skin. Blood began gathering at the tear and Jace groaned.
He quickly pulled out his stele and drew on an iratze rune for speedy healing.
He pulled out his phone and glanced at the time.
Look who's going to be late, he walked out of the alleyway and made his way to the Academy of Art.
