It's Where My Demons Hide
x-xx-Megan-Krystal-xx-x
Jace is dead. He died like many other Shadowhunters, in battle with a Greater Demon. This time, it was Lillith. His "family" Isabelle, Alec, Maryse, and Robert Lightwood, are devastated especially since they just lost their son and brother Max little over a year ago. His girlfriend, Clarissa (Clary), can't handle life. But what happens when an unexpected visitor saves her life? IF YOU HAVE NOT READ ANY OF THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS SERIES, YOU WILL NOT UNDERSTAND THIS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. THERE ARE SPOILERS. MOST IS FICTION THOUGH.
Chapter One: Don't Get Too Close
-Demons by Imagine Dragons-
*Clary POV*
The days have been dragging on since Jace's death against Lillith. It feels like years, although Isabelle said it's been five days. Five days without Jace, my boyfriend, my protector, my love. It's my fault though, because I could have stopped him from battling her, but he had his mind set on it. And she ended up killing him, squishing him out of this life like a bug. I've decided I cannot go on living like a mess, just sitting here in the corner of my dark room at the Institute. Maryse and Robert had let me stay here to cope with grieving, because Mom couldn't do anything with me. The wedding was called off between her and Luke, but it was for the right reasons. Today is the dreaded day, the day of Jace's funeral. I have to speak and say a few parting words before he is burnt to ashes and put into the walls of the Silent City. The entire city of Idris is attending this event, although they'd rather not. Jace was a special one to the people of Idris, because he'd been through so much, and helped the city fight this war. I get up out of my corner and go through my closet until I run across a white dress with silver sparkles on it. It's one of Isabelle's old dresses, but she grew out of it. I find some silver flats on the floor of my closet and walk to my bathroom. Looking in the mirror I do not see Clarissa Fray. I see a demon with a mass of red hair, and faded green-grey eyes. Her skin is pale as her clothing, and she looks hollowed. Like she hadn't eaten or drank anything in days, which is in fact, ever so true. I occasionally sipped the glass of water on my bedside table, making sure I didn't die of dehydration. Although I won't have to worry about that much longer after tonight.
I step into the shower and start it, wincing at the hot water hitting my skin. Soon the room steams up and my hair is become a mess. I don't care, but I will when I brush through it. Soon I'm finished, so I turn the water off and step out, wrapping a towel around me in the process. After putting my bra and panties on, I look in the floor length mirror I have in my room and just stare at myself. My ribs are starting to protrude after not eating for five days, and I'm thinner than I already was. I turn away from the mirror and put my dress over my frail body. Soon a knock comes through my door, and the door opens to reveal Isabelle in a long white satin dress and while heels instead of her knee-high boots. She looks somber and depressed, although I probably look worse.
"Hey Clary, do you need any help with anything?" she asked, a gentle tone in her voice. I beckoned her to come closer, because she was just standing in the doorway. Once she saw me up close, she almost backed right back out. Her face was mixed with shock and depression. She walks over to me and sits on the bed beside me. Before I know what's happening, her arms are wrapped around my body and her face is buried in my mess of red curls. She soon pulls away, and looks at my face, like she's studying it. "Clary by the Angel, what have you become!" Isabelle exclaims.
"Isabelle, I haven't moved from that spot since-since-" I can't finish my sentence, because the memories of that day are too powerful. The battle, his last words, and Lillith. I burst out in tears and Isabelle pulls me into a hug, rubbing my back to try and comfort me.
"C'mon Clary, come to my room and I'll do your makeup," Isabelle whispers before grabbing my hand and dragging me towards the door. I freeze when we're just about to go out the door. "D-do we have to?" I stutter out, scared of what the others would say when they saw my appearance. Maybe they'd send me back to my room, where I'd just get worse. I'd like that actually, more than going out in public and receiving the sympathy and pity of others. I have to be strong though, for Jace. Just thinking of the name makes me choke with sobs. Isabelle is waiting out in the hall, so I collect myself and walk out of my room, somewhat confident. The others are outside in the hallway, and hearing my footsteps, they turn to look at me. Alec drops his water, his breath hitching in his throat. Maryse has sympathy written all over her face. Robert is just plain shocked, staring as if I'm a demon he needs to kill. I am a demon, no doubt about that. I've taken after my father Valentine and sacrificed someone else's life to save my own. I sacrificed one of the greatest Shadowhunters just to save myself.
"Clary dear, what happened to you?" Maryse asks, astonished. I break down once again, sobs racking my body.
"L-let's just go," I stutter out, before Isabelle runs to her room and grabs various hair products and makeup.
-~-Skips transporting and funeral because I'd start crying while writing that-~-
After the funeral, I run out of the doors to where the service was held. I couldn't stand to see Jace's body, all cleaned up and dressed in white. Isabelle made me look pretty, well as pretty as she could manage. My hair was straightened, and had silver sparkles in it. My makeup consisted of silver and white eyeshadow, and a light sparkly lip gloss. My nails were painted white with silver French tips. I guess I looked good enough to go in public. Now I'm back at the Institute, sitting on my bed for the last time ever. See, I've decided I can't go on without Jace, so tonight is going to be my last night. No, I've never been like this before, just when you lose someone you truly love, you tend to become, how do I put this, out of character. You killed him to save yourself a voice inside of my head tells me. Suddenly my vision becomes blurry, and before I know it, silent tears are streaming down my face. The voice gets louder each time it says that, and the tears start falling faster.
"Stop." I whisper.
You killed him to save yourself.
"I said stop!" My voice comes out louder, but not much.
YOU KILLED HIM TO SAVE YOURSELF!
"STOP YOU MERCILESS DEMON! I KNOW I FUCKING KILLED HIM JUST TO SAVE MYSELF! I LET HIM DIE! I, CLARISSA FRAY, LET JACE DIE! HE WOULD BE ALIVE IF IT WEREN'T FOR ME!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I heard running footsteps come into my room, and suddenly light shone inside of my room as Alec came in panting. He took one look at me, and then took a step closer. I could see he was nervous, reaching for his blade. Alec actually thought I was talking to a real demon, not just some voice inside of my head.
"Clary what the hell! Why did you scream?" Alec asks, moving his hand away from the blade as he realizes there wasn't a real demon in here. I look up at him, and the next thing I know all of the Lightwood's are in my room, wondering what happened. I just sent them away by telling them I was remembering earlier today and talking to myself. Soon I was by myself, about to go for a 'walk'. I got up and walked out of the room, telling everyone I was going to a walk.
"I'll go too," Isabelle inquired. I looked up at her, then shook my head.
"I'll go by myself. I just need some space to think for a bit. Y'know?" I stated, hoping she'd believe me. Isabelle nodded her head in agreement, and I was on my way. I'd been to this place before, where I was going. I was going to the edge of Staten Island, going to jump off of it into the icy waters. I teleported to New York City, then took a taxi to the ferry to get across. After paying the driver, I headed off towards the boat to get on, and in about half an hour we were there. I ran to the nearest edge where there wasn't much population around. I sat down, my legs dangling off the edge, and remembered all of the good memories I'd had as a teenage girl and when I was younger. I remembered the day I first met Jace, it was one of the best memories of my life.
-~-Flashback-~-
She was about to add that if he were in love with Sheila Barbarino, Eric would kick his ass, when she heard someone cough loudly behind her. It was a derisive sort of cough, the kind of noise someone might make who was trying not to laugh out loud.
She turned around.
Sitting on a faded green sofa a few feet away from her was Jace. He was wearing the same dark clothes he'd had on the night before in the club. His arms were bare and covered with faint white lines like old scars. His wrists bore wide metal cuffs; she could see the bone handle of a knife protruding from the left one. He was looking right at her, the side of his narrow mouth quirked in amusement.Worse than the feeling of being laughed at was Clary's absolute conviction that he hadn't been sitting there five minutes ago.
"What is it?" Simon had followed her gaze, but it was obvious from the blank expression on his face that he couldn't see Jace.
But I see you.She stared at Jace as she thought it, and he raised his left hand to wave at her. A ring glittered on a slim finger. He got to his feet and began walking, unhurriedly, toward the door. Clary's lips parted in surprise. He was leaving, just like that.
She felt Simon's hand on her arm. He was saying her name, asking her if something was wrong. She barely heard him. "I'll be right back," she heard herself say, as she sprang off the couch, almost forgetting to set her coffee cup down. She raced toward the door, leaving Simon staring after her.Clary burst through the doors, terrified that Jace would have vanished into the alley shadows like a ghost. But he was there, slouched against the wall. He had just taken something out of his pocket and was punching buttons on it. He looked up in surprise as the door of the coffee shop fell shut behind her.
In the rapidly falling twilight, his hair looked coppery gold. "Your friend's poetry is terrible," he said.
Clary blinked, caught momentarily off guard. "What?"
"I said his poetry was terrible. It sounds like he ate a dictionary and started vomiting up words at random."
"I don't care about Eric's poetry." Clary was furious. "I want to know why you're following me."
"Who said I was following you?"
"Nicetry. And you were eavesdropping, too. Do you want to tell me what this is about, or should I just call the police?"
"And tell them what?" Jace said witheringly. "That invisible people are bothering you? Trust me, little girl, the police aren't going to arrest someone they can't see."
"I told you before, my name is not little girl," she said through her teeth. "It's Clary."
"I know," he said. "Pretty name. Like the herb, clary sage. In the old days people thought eating the seeds would let you see the Fair Folk. Did you know that?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You don't know much, do you?" he said. There was a lazy contempt in his gold eyes. "You seem to be a mundane like any other mundane, yet you can see me. It's a conundrum."
"What's a mundane?"
"Someone of the human world. Someone like you."
"Butyou'rehuman," Clary said.
"I am," he said. "But I'm not like you." There was no defensiveness in his tone. He sounded like he didn't care if she believed him or not.
"You think you're better. That's why you were laughing at us."
"I was laughing at you because declarations of love amuse me, especially when unrequited," he said.
"And because your Simon is one of the most mundane mundanes I've ever encountered. And because Hodge thought you might be dangerous, but if you are, you certainly don't know it."
"I'mdangerous?" Clary echoed in astonishment. "I saw you kill someone last night. I saw you drive a knife up under his ribs, and—"And I saw him slash at you with fingers like razor blades. I saw you cut and bleeding, and now you look as if nothing ever touched you.
"I may be a killer," Jace said, "but I know what I am. Can you say the same?"
"I'm an ordinary human being, just like you said. Who's Hodge?"
"My tutor. And I wouldn't be so quick to brand myself as ordinary, if I were you." He leaned forward. "Let me see your right hand."
"My right hand?" Clary echoed. He nodded. "If I show you my hand, will you leave me alone?"
"Certainly." His voice was edged with amusement.He took her hand in his and turned it over. "Nothing." He sounded almost disappointed. "You're not left-handed, are you?"
"No. Why?"
He released her hand with a shrug. "Most Shadowhunter children get Marked on their right hands—or left, if they're left-handed like I am—when they're still young. It's a permanent rune that lends an extra skill with weapons." He showed her the back of his left hand; it looked perfectly normal to her.
"I don't see anything," she said.
"Let your mind relax," he suggested. "Wait for it to come to you. Like waiting for something to rise to the surface of water."
"You're crazy." But she relaxed, gazing at his hand, seeing the tiny lines across the knuckles, the long joints of the fingers—
It jumped out at her suddenly, flashing like a DON'T WALK sign. A black design like an eye across the back of his hand. She blinked, and it vanished. "A tattoo?"
He smiled smugly and lowered his hand. "I thought you could do it. And it's not a tattoo—it's a Mark. They're runes, burned into our skin."
"They make you handle weapons better?" Clary found this hard to believe, though perhaps no more hard to believe than the existence of zombies.
"Different Marks do different things. Some are permanent but the majority vanish when they've been used."
"That's why your arms aren't all inked up today?" she asked. "Even when I concentrate?"
"That's exactly why." He sounded pleased with himself. "I knew you had the Sight, at least." He glanced up at the sky. "It's nearly full dark. We should go."
"We? I thought you were going to leave me alone."
"I lied," Jace said without a shred of embarrassment. "Hodge said I have to bring you to the Institute with me. He wants to talk to you."
"Why would he want to talk to me?"
"Because you know the truth now," Jace said. "There hasn't been a mundane who knew about us for at least a hundred years."
"Aboutus?"she echoed. "You mean people like you. People who believe in demons."
"People who kill them," said Jace. "We're called Shadow-hunters. At least, that's what we call ourselves. The Downworlders have less complimentary names for us."
"Downworlders?"
"The Night Children. Warlocks. The fey. The magical folk of this dimension."
Clary shook her head. "Don't stop there. I suppose there are also, what, vampires and werewolves and zombies?"
"Of course there are," Jace informed her. "Although you mostly find zombies farther south, where thevoudunpriests are."
"What about mummies? Do they only hang around Egypt?"
"Don't be ridiculous. No one believes in mummies."
"They don't?"
"Of course not," Jace said. "Look, Hodge will explain all this to you when you see him."
Clary crossed her arms over her chest. "What if I don't want to see him?"
"That's your problem. You can come either willingly or unwillingly."
Clary couldn't believe her ears. "Are you threatening tokidnapme?"
"If you want to look at it that way," Jace said, "yes."
Clary opened her mouth to protest angrily, but was interrupted by a strident buzzing noise. Her phone was ringing again.
"Go ahead and answer that if you like," Jace said generously.
The phone stopped ringing, then started up again, loud and insistent. Clary frowned—her mom must really be freaking out. She half-turned away from Jace and began digging in her bag. By the time she unearthed the phone, it was on its third set of rings. She raised it to her ear. "Mom?"
"Oh, Clary. Oh, thank God." A sharp prickle of alarm ran up Clary's spine. Her mother sounded panicked. "Listen to me—"
"It's all right, Mom. I'm fine. I'm on my way home—"
"No!"Terror scraped Jocelyn's voice raw. "Don't come home! Do you understand me, Clary? Don't you dare come home. Go to Simon's. Go straight to Simon's house and stay there until I can—" A noise in the background interrupted her: the sound of something falling, shattering, something heavy striking the floor—
"Mom!" Clary shouted into the phone. "Mom, are you all right?"
A loud buzzing noise came from the phone. Clary's mother's voice cut through the static: "Just promise me you won't come home. Go to Simon's and call Luke—tell him that he's found me—" Her words were drowned out by a heavy crash like splintering wood.
"Who'sfound you? Mom, did you call the police? Did you—"
Her frantic question was cut off by a noise Clary would never forget—a harsh, slithering noise, followed by a thump. Clary heard her mother draw in a sharp breath before speaking, her voice eerily calm: "I love you, Clary."
The phone went dead.
"Mom!"Clary shrieked into the phone. "Mom, are you there?"Call ended,the screen said. But why would her mother have hung up like that?
"Clary," Jace said. It was the first time she'd ever heard him say her name. "What's going on?"
Clary ignored him. Feverishly she hit the button that dialed her home number. There was no answer except a double-tone busy signal.
Clary's hands had begun to shake uncontrollably. When she tried to redial, the phone slipped out of her shaking grasp and hit the pavement hard. She dropped to her knees to retrieve it, but it was dead, a long crack visible across the front. "Dammit!" Almost in tears, she threw the phone down.
"Stop that." Jace hauled her to her feet, his hand gripping her wrist. "Has something happened?"
"Give me your phone," Clary said, grabbing the black metal oblong out of his shirt pocket. "I have to—"
"It's not a phone," Jace said, making no move to get it back. "It's a Sensor. You won't be able to use it."
"But I need to call the police!"
"Tell me what happened first." She tried to yank her wrist back, but his grip was incredibly strong. "I canhelpyou."
Rage flooded through Clary, a hot tide through her veins. Without even thinking about it, she struck out at his face, her nails raking his cheek. He jerked back in surprise. Tearing herself free, Clary ran toward the lights of Seventh Avenue.
When she reached the street, she spun around, half-expecting to see Jace at her heels. But the alley was empty. For a moment she stared uncertainly into the shadows. Nothing moved inside them. She spun on her heel and ran for home.
-~-Flashback Over-~-
*Third-Person POV*
Clary froze for a moment, remembering the day her mother was almost killed. She shuddered, then got up, making sure not to accidentally fall into the icy waters. After a few minutes of silent goodbyes, tears streaming down her face, she got ready to fall. Her back facing the water, she started to feel herself fall, but then she stopped. Floating in mid-air by some powerful force, she was thrown back onto the land. She couldn't believe it; she'd failed, and all because of some damn force.
"W-what! How?!" she screamed to the world, furious. Suddenly a voice that sounded awfully familiar sounded behind her.
"Clarissa Fray! How could you think of even doing that! Don't you know how horrible I'd feel?" said the one and only…
.
.
.
Jace Wayland. Her Jace.
Sup my little Eggs? Yeah, Ima call y'all little Eggs because well, Meggan. It has egg in it. Anyways I'M BACK BITCHES. YEAH. THE LITTLE FUCKERS, WHO REPORTED MY ACCOUNT, SUCK ON THAT! YOU ALL ARE IN FOR SOME SERIOUS SHIT WHEN I FIND OUT WHO THE FUCKING HELL DELETED MY OLD ACCOUNT. I HAVE TO REWRITE AN ENTIRE STORY, AND 6 CHAPTERS OF ANOTHER ONE. DOESN'T THAT SOUND JUST FUCKING PEACHY? IF YOU'D LIKE, MAYBE THE LITTLE FUCKERS WHO DELETED MY ACCOUNT CAN REWRITE IT ALL. NO, BECAUSE THEY'D FUCK IT UP BIG TIME AND MY LITTLE EGGS WOULD JUST BE LIKE THIS DIDN'T HAPPEN. I HAVE DECIDED TO START MY OWN FANDOM. FEEL FREE TO SHIP MEZ-ITS. THAT'S MEGGAN AND CHEEZ-ITS. ALSO WITH ANY MEMBER OF SLEEPING WITH SIRENS, PIERCE THE VEIL, ONE DIRECTION, OR EVEN LITTLE MIX. CAUSE I'M FUCKING BI. SHIP ME WITH KELLY CLARKSON AND CHER LLOYD AND ED SHEERAN. DEFINATLY ED SHEERAN. CREDIT TO THE AMAZING HANNA FOR COMING UP WITH THE CHEEZ-IT SHIP NAME, BUT I ALMOST CRIED WHEN I RAN OUT OF CHEEZ-ITS. OKAY Y'ALL, I SHALL MAKE THE NATIONAL ANTHEM AND SUCH.
NATIONAL ANTHEM: ROCK ME BY ONE DIRECTION
NATIONAL FLOWER: EVENING PRIMROSE
NATIONAL FOOD: CHEEZ-ITS
NATIONAL SYMBOL: AN EGG LIKE THE TWITTER ICON
NATIONAL QUOTE: "THIS CHEESE ISN'T MATURE"
NATIONAL CITIZEN NAMES: LITTLE EGGS
NATIONAL TOURTURE: BEING WITHOUT CHEEZ-ITS, SINGING OPERA WHILE WATCHING THE 'WE CAN'T STOP VIDEO' BY MILEY CYRUS. NO SONG, JUST THE VIDEO. NO BLINKING WHILE WATCHING.
NATIONAL DANCE: CHA CHA SLIDE
NATIONAL WEBSITE: TUMBLR ANF FANFICTION
NATIONAL ANIMAL: RAINBOW SHEEP
NATIONAL JEWEL: PEARL
HAVE A CHEEZ-IT-TASTICAL DAY MY LITTLE EGGS.
Meggan :D