This was co-written by my good friend Amalspach - meaning she did a ton of editing and is now emotionally attached to this story. I wrote this after I read Lady Midnight and Tales From the Shadowhunter Academy, so they'll be references, but it won't directly follow the storyline, for a while, at least. (I admit that I kinda, maybe, sorta, based this off of Kieran and Mark. I ship them, sorry Cristina). I do not own Cassandra Claire's universe, only my characters.
Enjoy! :)
"Die in a ditch!" Pyre screeched.
"You first, it was your stupid idea!" Wolf combatted, baring his teeth. "You're insufferable!"
The five of them hadn't always been friends. Most days, it still seemed like they weren't.
There were times they'd get fed up with each other's cautious personalities. Fae was always cryptic and defensive, Pyre and Wolf always snarkily bantered and leaped at the opportunity to pick fights, Lock was constantly fed up dealing with everyone, and Hunter was often just quiet, the eye of the storm.
"Your constant bickering has grown intolerable," Fae said. "If this is all you will offer for this encounter, I shall take my leave."
Fae was a faerie, and one of the Wild Hunt, no less. He was often the most serious and literal of them, and in all honesty, he was also the only one with tolerable traits. His hair shifted colors according to his emotional state, going from black when he was in a foul mood to a dark blood red, a shining crimson, a bright orange, and transitioning all the way to blonde when he was satisfied or in a good mood. He had the normal sharp features of a faerie creature and elf-like ears. The Hunt had given him a black eye and a silver one, which could become disconcerting if he gave a glare - or just looked at someone too long. It was hard to tell what went on in his head, but he spoke blunt truths like the rest of his kind. How or why he tolerated the rest of them remained a mystery even now.
"He started it," Pyre snapped.
She was a vampire, turned about a century ago, but she had remained just as young and angsty as any other teenager. She was actually in her twenties physically, but blood and makeup helped make her look below drinking age. She had never liked anyone, but at the same time, she never left the group. Fae guessed that she was lonely, and upon hearing that little thought, she had gone on a rampage, proving that she would rather punch her feelings away than talk about crippling emotional problems. Fae, who was smart, strong, and resourceful enough to be in the Hunt, was easily able to handle himself, but when Pyre finally calmed, she didn't say a thing, even as Fae added that her reaction proved him right. And yet this didn't change anything; all of them were lonely. All of them knew it, and that's why they came when one of them called. Yet hiding emotions tended to end the same way 98% of the time.
In short, Pyre was stubborn to a fault and remained as fierce as she was beautiful and fiesty. She simply couldn't stand being the damsel in distress, no matter what the situation demanded of her. Sad as it was, this dispute had erupted because Wolf had the audacity to take out a mundane bent on eliminating supernatural creatures. He had poisoned his bloodstream and made a slit down his arm, waiting for any unsuspecting Downworlders to come and take a bite.
With his enhanced sense of smell, one of the few advantages to being a werewolf, he had easily recognized that the idiot's blood was tainted (Didn't he know that foreign chemicals in the body would kill him? Perhaps he was so devoted to killing monsters he no longer cared if his life was forfeit; that was typical mundane stupidity at its finest, there) and endeavored to kill the man himself. Pyre hadn't eaten in several days and was far too hungry to think clearly. As it turned out, the stranger had a silver knife tucked up his sleeve, so if the creature failed to drop dead quick enough or didn't take the bait, there was another way to finish the job. This, rather predictably, had evolved into an all-out battle, which ended with the foolish man dead and Wolf heaving, a lucky slice to the side matting his calf with blood, while Pyre stood off to the side in self-righteous fury, hands clenched and having barely gotten the opportunity to do a thing.
"So it's my fault you got in trouble," Wolf retorted. "Well, I'm sorry for saving your life, Fangs. Next time, I'll just leave you to feed on the man who tried to kill you with poisonous blood. Weren't you ever told not to take candy from strangers?"
"I had it under control, Wolf, I don't need a babysitter!"
"Please. You were so ravenous you could barely see straight," he barked, running a furious hand through his hair as though trying to calm himself down.
Wolf, as already state, was a werewolf with an attitude problem rivaling Pyre. He was a former human wrestler, so he liked fighting without his claws. He was strong, but he head-butted the problem when it got too enraging. He was a loyal soldier in his pack but was also a very self assured individual who often thought his way was better than everyone else's. Sometimes he listened, sometimes he didn't. But, like most wolves, he wasn't a big fan of vampires, and though she was an exception, Pyre's constant provokation failed to help. They had yet to kill each other yet, but sometimes the others felt certain it was only a matter of time.
The remainder of the group also thought that maybe their constant clashes had something to do with 'unresolved sexual tension,' or something of the sort, but the trio would rather stab themselves than reveal this to Pyre and Wolf. It would be a substantially less painful death.
"I would've been fine," Pyre argued. "I would've known something was wrong and torn him apart without you!"
"One bite and you would've been very ill for weeks at the very least," Wolf corrected. "I apologize for looking out for a friend!"
"This friend doesn't need your pity!"
"She didn't deny the friend thing, at least," Hunter muttered to Fae.
Both took in the heated argument with something akin to detached interest; they'd heard this shtick a thousand times before. How dare the group stick together and defend one another, honestly.
"Indeed," Fae nodded.
Hunter was a shy and introverted Shadowhunter. He didn't like being expected to do great things, but when he first found the group of Downworlders that still helped him despite his people's reputation, even if they were bitter about it at first, he showed that he was powerful in his own respect. Hunter was intelligent and could handle himself in a fight, but he proved to be more passionate about music than anything else. Fae voiced his approval, and Hunter felt closer to their mismatched group than he had ever been to his family, even though they could be a bit crazy here. Hunter was quiet when things got heated or when they were talking about Downworlder business he didn't understand, but he was taking mental notes and learning the entire time. Once, after a particularly silencing argument where no one knew what to say, Hunter started strumming a guitar he brought and sang, pretending no one was listening. No one had said anything, but everyone had smiled in approval - even Pyre and Wolf, though they were trying to hide it. Now, he played whenever an argument was going on, practicing when there was background noise, and no one gave him much attention, to his relief. These were the only people he could be his true self around, and they never judged his playing - like his parents, for example.
"I'm too tired for this," Lock sighed from his position beside Hunter, sitting while kneading his forehead in order to stave off an oncoming migraine. He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a small groan. "I was working a job, there was an annoying demon, an even more annoying customer, and now these two."
Lock was a High Warlock like no other, as his business catered to Downworlders and Shadowhunters alike, despite his high prices. He'd learned from the well-known Magnus Bane - apparently he'd been taught the ways of being a warlock by Bane and wouldn't have survived without him. Now, Lock was a successful High Warlock, glamoured to hide the fact that his skin was scaled, green shades lightly mixed with his regular tan color in patches. They seemed to shimmer and sparkle at the right angles, and he'd been told that he'd be good at parties. Lock could let his glamour down when he was with his friends, and they said his Warlock Mark was cool - Wolf once said Magnus should be jealous since Lock could sparkle all on his own.
"Perhaps Hunter can play his tunes," Fae suggested. "Music of his kind can calm the wrath of such pain."
Hunter looked embarrassed. "W-Well I wouldn't say I'm…I guess…s-sure I have one song I've been working on."
Hunter didn't respond well to being directly asked to perform, but Fae had little tolerance for such weakness. The faerie couldn't comprehend pure mortal embarrassment the way humans could, and his solution was always to push. If someone needed to get over their fears, confronting them was the only way to do so. Hunter, as well as the others, understood Fae only had the best interests at heart, and the Hunt had taught him that confrontation was the most logical choice. Subtly was not his forte.
Hunter played some experimental songs, and Lock made sure not to look over to watch, since Hunter only played well when he felt no one could see him - even if they could still hear. Fae, at least, respected this part of Hunter's feelings, but who knew when Fae would change that? Hunter couldn't be coddled forever.
"Stay out of my business, mutt!" Pyre spat.
"A simple 'Thank you for saving my ass' would have sufficed!" Wolf snarled, throwing out an arm as though to emphasize his point.
She rolled her murderous eyes. "At least my helpless ass doesn't have a stick shoved up it!"
On the sidelines, Lock resisted the urge to sigh. "Whose turn is it to break them up?" the warlock asked, shaking his head.
"I believe it is yours," Fae said. "However, I would be willing to assist if you are too exhausted."
"Thanks, 'preciate it." He snapped his fingers, causing both arguing parties to lose their voices.
Wolf looked exceptionally huffy, while Pyre stomped her black-boot clad feet as though she was ready to straight-up kill someone. She might have, really. She was desperate enough for blood, and though she appeared innocent enough to the average mortal in dark skinny jeans, her signature combat boots, a scarlet blouse and a leather jacket, she was more than capable of casual murder, even if it wasn't usually her style.
"Pyre, hon, you need to calm down. You're hungry and not thinking straight. Get a grip and let's have a civilized conversation. You can hunt later on once you're not smelling the bloody fumes of the recently deceased," Lock told her, almost as if he was speaking to a small child.
She flipped him off but pursed her lips, considering his words.
"Wolf, she's a big bad vampire who can stand on her own two feet. You don't need to push her to the side. Pyre was handling herself just fine before you came along to fight all her battles. Okay?"
The werewolf dramatically rolled his eyes but shook his head.
"Great. Now I'm gonna let you both talk again, but I swear to the angel if you start up again today I will banish both of you to the very bowels of hell. Understand?"
They silently agreed.
"Nice. I just love it when we're all on the same page."
With a snort from Hunter, still bent over his instrument and trying to focus on playing instead, Lock released them. Pyre shifted her jaw experimentally, as if the return of her voice had reset the planes of her face. Slowly, new conversations evolved, minus the barbs.
Hunter watched as the four Downworlders got into a conversation about Downworlder lore, almost using their history and politics as a method of indirectly showing off. Each liked to remind the rest of their abilities and skills, and it was quite amusing. Downworlders were certainly more entertaining than Shadowhunters. They were diverse, surviving without relying on runes, and they were, quite honestly, a lot cooler. Yet another reason why he didn't belong amongst his kind.
Lock's warlock abilities allowed him to do just sort of everything he wanted, plus he knew potions for anything else. He was bold and eccentric, and had a few centuries of experience under his belt. Pyre could move faster than any human, nearly too fast to keep track of, while still being as quiet as the encroaching night. Her taste for blood made her seem badass, along with her encanto ability and her feminine wiles, which pretty much enabled her to get anything she wanted from boys and girls alike. Wolf had a heightened sense of smell and hearing, natural survival instincts, and not-too-shabby speed, even if Pyre could leave him in the dust. His transformation was awesome, his strength was slightly better than average, and he could summon his claws and teeth even in human form. Fae was a natural hunter, accustomed to survival of the fittest, able to sense lies from anyone (though that wasn't necessarily a guarantee, he was just used to seeing truths vs lies), survive with little provisions, fight even when outnumbered, and on top of that he knew how to win an argument without letting any personal feelings show (which wasn't really a superpower, and yet being an impartial party was a rare trait in any species it seemed). He was skilled on horseback with a bow and arrow, along with a spear for close quarters, and if he got really mad, he said he could control elements because of his mother. Really, there was no telling what he could do. The full extent of his abilities was still a mystery, even to his closest confidants.
All of them were so unique, while all Shadowhunters had were runes and an oppressive government. Not all Shadowhunters were absolute jerks, of course, but the ones that were had the most power, which was true of almost every reigning system. Absolute power tends to corrupt absolutely, after all. They claimed it was for the best, to keep bad apples from going rogue, but all they did is fan the flames of rage, encourage segregation, and repeat the same societal wrongs - if they even admit to their mistakes in the first place. Case in point: Valentine.
Hunter saw these Downworlders at their best and worse, and wondered why blood is the only thing that deems them evil. In the end, if the Downworlders do rebel, it's the Clave's own fault for not looking to actually get to know them and experience their culture firsthand.
"I must return to the Hunt," Fae announced after a while, blinking his ever-colored eyes. "My absence will begin to draw suspicion should I remain."
"We'll see you next time, Fae," Lock said, stretching. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Never a concern of mine," the faerie muttered wryly.
It was approaching sundown, and they had been together for several hours even before the big incident of the day, yet he continued to linger, obviously reluctant to return home.
"I should get back to my pack," Wolf agreed, gesturing to where Fae had been standing. "They've got to be expecting me by now."
"Peace out, losers, I've got a party to attend," Pyre declared, determined to leave before him (probably out of the fear that they would think she was ditching the group because he wasn't there), turning and speeding down a tunnel.
The werewolf growled lowly at the place where she had been, resolving to wait a little longer so it didn't look as if she'd gotten to him. She had, as always. The others happily ignored that fact to save face.
They met in an underground system of tunnels, each person coming from a different direction. It gave them many escapes should they have attackers, and made sure they could all go through different routes to not be seen together. They weren't exactly an illegal group, but it was mostly a matter of pride. This was a whole 'nother world than their separate ones, and keeping the two worlds for each of the apart was important. They could be themselves here, and if anyone could crash this place of sanctuary, it'd be like a part of their lives was obliterated.
"I should get back to the Institute," Hunter said.
Lock sighed. "I guess I'll just spend my evening alone."
"You should take the opportunity to regain your strength," Fae advised.
"Regain my strength and also binge-watch Netflix."
Fae probably had no idea what that was, but he said nothing and kept a straight face.
"Netflix?" Hunter asked, cocking his head.
It was sometimes easy to forget that Hunter had been raised in an Institute all his life. Even though he had some experience with the mundane world, he was still clueless about the vast majority of things. From the small pieces of information he was willing to share, his father was a fairly strict person, pushing him to be a strong Shadowhunter, and subsequently hated his musical talents because they were a distraction.
"Oh, we have much to teach you, young grasshopper," Wolf joked.
"Grasshopper?" Fae asked, now raising an eyebrow.
"It's an expression meaning 'Beginner,'" Lock explained. "It involves ninjas and stuff."
Fae nodded in understanding before turning and putting his fingers in his mouth. He let out a loud whistle and his steed came flying in through one of the tunnels. His mount was a midnight-black horse, shimmering with silver wisps of magic. His mane was black with dark-red highlights, and as he turned, the silver parts of his hair swept across him as the angle changed. He was both terrifying and mesmerizing at the same time. Fae was graceful as he effortlessly swung his leg over the horse's back, the muscle-memory drilled into his system from years of experience.
Hunter stared. He'd always wondered what it was like, riding atop such a powerful beast, having complete trust in each other as they rode to battle - or merely went running for the thrill of it. He had learned about parabatai, but a horse, or any animal, really, felt different, he assumed. It was a trust born without magic, without a bond that didn't allow them to part - it was completely voluntary, strong because it had to be and not because it was locked into place.
Fae caught Hunter staring, and Hunter quickly diverted his attention to packing his guitar. Hopefully he hadn't looked too stupid.
"Until next we meet," Fae saluted, before his horse turned and sped away.
Hunter tried not to look too hard at the place where he and his stead had just been standing.
"See you all later," Lock waved, before opening a portal and disappearing through.
"Bye, kid," Wolf said simply as he walked down his tunnel, not bothering to draw out the end of their conversation. There was always tomorrow.
Hunter grabbed his guitar case and headed back to the Institute. As always, he hid his guitar under his bed and headed to the training room, brushing the dust from the tunnels off his casual t-shirt and black pants. Like every day he snuck out, he was half surprised he had gotten away with his clandestine meeting, especially with an easy-to-recognize package. Within the hallowed confines of the training room he threw knives today, getting faster but less accurate in turn. Something to be distracted working on, he figured.
"Finn!"
He looked up at his name. Hunter was just the alias he used when meeting with the Downworlders - their names were as well. Pyre was short for vampire, Wolf was short for werewolf, Lock was short for warlock, Fae was short for Faerie, and Hunter was short for Shadowhunter. It was silly, yeah, but if any of them got caught sneaking around then they would have less information about the others to surrender.
His childhood friend and fellow Shadowhunter Selina came walking in, a warm smile on her face. As per usual, her silvery eyes were drawn with crinkles and framed by her icy blonde ponytail, her milky complexion marred only by the lumpy crescent on her shoulder: the odd birthmark that earned her her name. "Hey, I've been looking for you all day."
"I was out. Did something come up?"
"Nothing we couldn't handle without you," she assured, brushing imaginary dirt off her sleeve.
He didn't always believe her - Li had a habit of downplaying any injuries so as not to worry them - but today she seemed perfectly fine, which was a welcome relief. They were just as close as actual siblings, and though she insisted that she could survive 'little scratches, Finn, I'm alright', it never stopped him from worrying.
"Where did you go out to?"
Ah. Shoot.
"Some friends were meeting up."
"Where?"
"The pub," He deadpanned.
"The pub. Yes, because you're the wild and excitable drinking type," she said, eyes narrowing. "Which friends?"
"You wouldn't know them."
He's bad at lying, alright? It wasn't that he didn't trust her; he probably should have told Selina a long time ago, but it always felt like his secret, the only thing he could keep to himself in a place where so much of his life experiences had been shared with them. Except, of course, from Mer, but that was when he'd learned his lesson. Let's just say that telling her had ended in a big and overcomplicated argument before Merida finally gave in and believed that the Downworlders didn't mean him any harm.
Selina looked ready to ask for more, but thankfully Finn was rescued by his sister. "Li, stop interrogating him. He was out on duty with classified info he's not allowed to share. He's already told you too much, so if you don't want to get him in trouble, back off."
Selina gave a skeptical look, thin eyebrows arching beneath her blonde bangs, but Finn's twin sister Merida knew how to win an argument with her stare alone. Besides, Li knew their boundaries and recognized when prying became bothersome on a personal level.
She sighed, placing her pale hands back on her hips. "Sorry. I'm just concerned about you. Your parents are coming this week, and we all know how fun they are."
Finn groaned in turn, running his fingers through the tips of his orange locks. "Don't remind me."
"Just try and stay out of trouble, okay Finn? We don't need another lecture about the law and responsibility just because we want to go talk to a friend or something stupidly small."
"Still have scars from all the tongue lashings we got," he replied, cracking a tiny smile.
They all laughed together as Merida grabbed her brother's arm. "Selina, can I talk to Finn alone for a moment?"
"Sure, I'll just take a walk. Don't hold up," she said, waving.
She headed out, and once out of range, his sister sighed, her long orange curls falling into her face. "You were meeting with Downworlders again, weren't you?"
Finn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know, but they're my friends, Mer."
"Look, I've got nothing against Downworlders -"
"Really?"
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay, not yours anyways. I'm not going to lock you in the Institute and rat you out to the adults. But I'm worried about what happens if someone else finds out - especially Dad."
"I know, I know. It's just . . . I don't understand what's so wrong about being friends with Downworlders. They're people - different, but not anymore evil than the rest of us. Those treated as monsters become monsters in turn. It's not like their blood makes them bad, it's our treatment of them. Shadowhunters still somehow believe that we're somehow better and more official than Downworlders."
"I'd love to say that we could get the Clave to see reason through statements like that, but we're the minority, sympathizers like us." Her green eyes, identical to his in nearly every way, gleamed in empathy. "The world won't be so kind if they find out."
"But change can come. After the Dark War, Clary and the others who saved us have a bigger voice, right? The Shadowhunter Academy is opening again, the Downworlders who fought in the war are becoming known as heroes. One way or another, things have to get better eventually."
"I won't argue, but I also won't say it's going to be quick," she warned. "All species have their quirks that make the others weary. That kind of acceptance takes time. Even the mundanes have segregation, and though they've made progress, they still have those that remain pro-fascism."
"Can't win 'em all, isn't that how it goes? I'm not asking to win them all, I just want to be able to press this one thing," he said, voice edging on desperate. "Well, the only way to make change is to go out and do something. Can't do anything without a little effort, right?"
Merida chuckled wryly, patting his arm fondly. "Keep that attitude, little brother. But don't get into any trouble, and be more careful. If any of our parents find out, you'll never hear the end of it and won't be allowed to leave the Institute for the rest of your life."
"Don't remind me. But thanks, Mer."
"Any time, Finnegan."
Chapter title inspired by 'Animal' by Neon Trees