Book:
Rebirth Of The Dove
Chapter Two:
The Train Ride
Shadowhunter Miles Waraxe, known for his superior stealth, reconnaissance, and tracking expertise has been tasked with the locating and retrieval of his longtime friend and retired partner Sage Paloma.
Finding the young Nephilim within a small rundown area of a relativity abandoned non Clave sanctioned city, he managed to kindle a long dead flame within the pits of her sanity with information of a recently deceased ally.
It is now the morning after. They converse whilst traversing by way of a speeding train.
"Like a bunch of drunk idiots, we finally stumble onto whatever monster that has been terrorizing the outer city's breeding grounds," Miles's hectic laughter christened the newly arriving day. Pinkish orange rays flayed over the seals of the open windows that rattled with the speeding train. "Come to think of it, I think Earthchild actually had been a lil tipsy." He watched the steel ceiling, his voice tireless; seventy two hours on full alert showing no physical existence.
"Wouldn't be the first time she showed up half-cocked to her own handpicked assignment." Sage closed her eyes, letting the mountain chilled air fall over her face. Her left arm twitched sitting interlaced with Miles's right. A grave purple rune layered over the both of their arms slowly pulsated between the two of them; it was easier to pose as a couple on a crowded train enjoying a bright dawn ride, than to disguise themselves with the glamour that would render them invisible.
"Well I guess she makes up for it in other ways." His grin seemed to glaze over his face, reminiscent of a mundane families' early Sunday mornings.
"Que?"
"Well you remember her becoming the youngest field medic of our Institute's history?" He turned to face her, soft light accenting his thin, almost transparent features; white lines, the shells of the faded runes drawn on by the sharp edges of a Steele.
"Do I remember?" She turned her head, and blew back black bangs from an inquisitive face. "How could I not? Viola was no ordinary Nephilim, an extensive knowledge on every demon venom antidote created in the past decade, even cementing a few of her own in several widely used handbooks. Figured out the Blood Transmutation spell to alter her own body fluids into a natural toxin filter from a six hundred year old Celtic warlock manuscript. The bitch could barely even read the damn thing. All of this at the age of sixteen."
"Nothing like being woken up at two thirty in the morning by the Clave's personal S.W.A.T team."
"I'd almost forgotten about that." She exhaled, dust forming clouds in the chilled air. The train thundered along under an extended underpass. Whirling dirt devils danced within the pockets of wind that was created between the oncoming winter and outgoing autumn.
"Well it was definitely worth it seeing as this sexy beast is the direct result of the whole gnarly ordeal." He carefully shook his wrist, inadvertently causing the violet rune to pulsate rapidly. As it receded, a thin red layer of skin formed on their arms. "I think that means it's almost done."
"Wait, really? I remember it taking a lot longer than that," she shifted her glance to her arm, finding the area of skin that had been sliced off in order to perform the process. The epidermis of the removed area had to be marked with an Iratze and the under layer marked with a repairing and sealing rune amongst a few other strange procedures. It was a bloody and offsetting measure that had to be taken, but as she flexed the spot she could see that it had healed over as had the years of damage that she'd sustained while away. A bit of Miles's skin, which had to mirror mark the removed piece of hers had already mutated and stitched itself into the vacant area. "Groady."
"The Clave thought so too." He squeezed her, "I believe that was the second time in the Institute's history that it came under Clave seizure, so one can only imagine the look on everyone's face when they raided us from our rooms and forced us into the medical bay."
"I wanted to Seraph someone in the carotid when they brought her into the room," she gripped onto her weapon. An old man doddering down the walkway gasped at the sight of the silver dagger. She grunted and he scuttled down to his seat. "She was in shackles with an enchanted binding cuff around her throat, fourteen runes set for six different species."
"Seventeen."
"What?!"
"Three of the runes came from an experimental source." An apologetic look mushed his profile. "After some digging, we found that three of the runes had never been processed and approved for active field usage."
"Those demons." She wanted to regurgitate whatever remained of her 8:00 Am. Crunchwrap from the day before.
"That's the life we lead as Nephilim, my child. A life filled with the deepest of dark Nightmares, pain and suffering remains our waking light, and we set our bed with lies for our nights sleep."
"That's a quote from Instructor Thompson," she eyed him curiously. "I thought you hated the guy, never listened to a word he said I remember."
"Things change when your best friend becomes untraceable for two years." He frowned absent-mindedly, not looking up at her, reflex-toned muscles caused him to go frigid. Sadness without combat was not exactly something he was comfortable with. His shoulder muscles twitched impatiently, maybe it was the slight awkwardness of the moment, or maybe even the fact that outside of covert missions, time seemed to move slower than a tortoise, but he was sure they should have arrived by now, if not they should at least be nearing the Bourgeoisie.
"But that's the subject for another day."
"Well this was definitely a big help." She twirled a battered Steele between her fingers. The chipped silvery tool shined dimly with the warmth of her hands, ready to seal an aiding rune into her flesh.
"Hand it over," he squinted, upon receiving the item he lowered his head, exhaled, and tossed it through the window.
"What the hell damn guy?!"
"Institute Commissioner knew you wouldn't take care of yours," he flipped open an upper compartment on his combat boot, years of flexibility training funneled into becoming a pretzel assassin. "Make it yours."
She nodded, closed her eyes, and wrapped her palms around the Stele. The object began to glow white hot, and tremble within her grip. An unclaimed Stele normally resembles a long deformed silvery white stick. However, when taken into the hands of a new user, the Adamas, a heavenly metal commonly fitted into blades, witchlights, and structures utilized by the Nephilim, slightly alters the build and shape of itself, mirroring the users attitude and mindset. She stared at the Steele as the light emanating from it began to die. Nothing changed, the thought came with a disappointing thump to her mentality. She handed the tool to her partner. Miles returned the nod, raising a confident hand to her shoulder, his palm gliding upwards of her neck. A heated grin broke out along his face. "Whoa there surfer boy, a little Tacobell and you get handsy."
"I was my last dollar."
"Be gentle. It has been a while." Her eyes fluttered shut as she reclined a bit.
"Oh, bravo. Brilliance had befallen us. Now shut up and allow me to present my craft." Waraxe pressed the tool to the bare skin of her throat. At point contact it felt like a thin sliver of ice was being pressed into her throat. Just shy of drawing blood, but the all-too-familiar touch of white hot soon reclaimed her skin as a rune Miles commonly used and perfected manifested. The Silent rune. The tracing burned dimly for a few seconds, and went out, leaving a mark in place. She clapped her hands. Nothing. "It works."
"Just in time," he swiveled his head toward the open window again. White blond hair etched over the pane and blasted in the wind. The mass was immediately thrown back by the high speed of the air battering against his forehead. "Our stop is coming up." The Bourgeoisie Institute flickered in the distant, glamour peeling itself away with their nearing proximity. The sight was one to behold, the massive castle-like building stood astute from the grounds surrounding it, where there stood a few small trees and a glistening pond. Yet everything around failed to present a calm surrounding. It was a rather hellish sight, blades, blood and bones decorated the less than hollowed earth. He calmly surveyed what had proven to be little more than a battleground, every square inch a hundred years of war between the dark and the light; the free will of evil, and the virtue of a soldier. A real estate agent's nightmare, save for the Bourgeoisie herself. She was much grander and much more massive than the average Institute belonging to the average clan of Nephilim. With her large algae colored walls, and blue draperies. If only the sheepish mundane could lay a true eye upon her sacred magnificence. Miles shuddered, his back awash with cool sweat. He could call the place home for another forty years, and yet would freeze in place eyeing what seemed like a beast, alive and angry, yet graceful as it slept. He shook his head, if this truly is the effect the Institute had on him everyday, then what must she feel? "Hey, Paloma?" She looked him in the face and smiled.
"Wassup?"
"Blink." He studied her face. What sat beside him resembled nothing of the day before. No sunken lines riding out the youthfulness of her eyes. No banked skin harboring salt laden tears.
She shot him a quizzical glance as he watched her intently. Rarely was it that she questioned a demand from him, but Sage did as she was told. Her eyes widened as the background readjusted itself and Miles's face became a blurred illusory fragment. With a flash and a bang, black lines seemed to cloud and surround her vision as if a cinematic horror show had laid claim to what she could see. Her heart skipped a beat and a slight sickness set the world on a rotary axis. The small gasp that escaped her lungs was just sharp enough to break through the governance of the silent rune that had begun to ash out over her neck.
"You can still back out if you want. I'll tell the Commissioner that I just wasn't as good as I thought I was." He patted at her shoulder.
"Not a chance, I can do this," she issued a reluctant and cheesy thumbs up. "Besides, he would see right through you. Marked or not."
"Well if you think so." He laughed, rubbing his forearm against the back of his head.
"Oh shut up." She could feel her heartbeat slow down considerably. Miles's arrogance had a habit of getting on any and all nerves, but she appreciated the sentiment. "Sangano."
Author's Note:
For those wondering where the Mortal Instruments are in this Mortal Instruments fan series, I apologize, but they will not be the main focus within the story. Neither will the main cast such as Clary, Jace, Alec, Magnus, Isabelle, or Simon. Don't be disappointed as The Mortal Instruments do have a planned story arc and a few of the main cast are scheduled to make more than a few appearances namely Magnus Bane.
Alright, that's about it. Please leave your comments, reviews, and follow the story so that you may catch chapter 3.
P.s:
Message me with any questions, and send me a heart if you got the secret reference, you might just get messaged back on the first mention of Clary within the series.