Soo, this Chapter is just a wee bit longer than the others. Okay, try double, but don't let that turn you off! Enjoy!
Chapter 3: Complications
Simon was a vampire suffering from insomnia.
He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to even close his eyes. Thoughts and images were passing through his mind in a long, confusing parade. He thought about kissing Clary, and how good it had felt. He had loved Clary for longer than he could remember. It had always been so simple to him. There was no other girl that could compare to her. But then Isabelle had come barrelling into the picture, burning brighter than fireworks with her untamed, fiery passion for life. It had felt like he had been hit with a hammer. Of course, he hadn't gotten over Clary right away. Isabelle had been a sort of distraction for him, but sometimes - sometimes he had felt them connect on a deeper level.
And then there was Maia, of course. He felt an unexpected surge of guilt as he pictured the werewolf's pretty face. He knew Maia was in to him, even if he didn't know why. But that didn't mean he should feel guilty for kissing Izzy. Did it?
Maia was a really great girl, and to be honest, he did find her tough, New York, werewolf personality appealing. He felt comfortable around her in a way he didn't when he was around Isabelle. There was no guessing about what she was really thinking, no worrying about coded messages, no unpredictable mood swings that left him completely baffled. With Maia, everything was straightforward and on the table. Why couldn't Isabelle be more like that?
'I needed a distraction to stop myself from thinking about you, Simon.' Isabelle's parting words echoed through him, awakening a whole new load of question with no answers.
He simply couldn't believe that Izzy had wasted much time thinking about him. He was nothing compared to her. She could move through life with apparent ease, stomping anything that got in her way with high heeled boots, and quickly moving past it. In her wake was a sea of drooling, worshipping men that she could take her pick from any time of the day. Simon admitted he had once been in that sea, but why on earth had Isabelle Lightwood singled out a guy like him, one who could barely stumble through his tangled life, let alone glide.
"Ah," he groaned aloud, startling his cat who was curled up at the foot of his bed as far away from Simon as possible. Ever since Valentine had broken into Simon's house, the thing had been hissing and spitting at its own shadow. It spent most of the day hiding under his desk, ready to attack his feet whenever he tried to sit down.
His hands raised to cover his face. There were too many damn complications in his life!
Just, please, let me sleep, he thought desperately. He didn't know who he was talking to, seeing as it couldn't be God. Praying wasn't an option for him anymore. Maybe he was talking to his own stubborn mind who didn't seem able to give it a rest.
Maybe, he could have ignored all the other images and questions bouncing around up there if it hadn't been for one thing: Every time Simon closed his eyes all he could feel was Isabelle's warm body against his cold one. All he could smell was peppermint, filling his nose and blotting out every other smell in the room. All he could taste was her lipgloss. And all he could see was Isabelle's beautiful face as she snaked her arms around him, and leaned in for a kiss.
Isabelle was not a fan of this sudden inability to control her own emotions. She had never been so irresponsible and weak in her entire life. Her concentration wavered in the middle of hunting, her thoughts always turned away from the task at hand, her mind felt like it was suddenly filled with cotton, and worse of all she had totally lost all interest in boys.
While, every boy but one, she found herself thinking, her mind filling with the image of Simon.
"Ah," she hissed, raising her whip and bringing it down on the target at her feet. The material of the dummy ripped as the electrum wire wrapped around it, allowing straw to spring up like growing grass. She smiled, flicking the wire free to wrap around a dummy standing a few feet away. The faceless head fell free of its body as she tugged the wire through its neck.
So far, this was the best distraction she had been able to come up with. She had come down as soon as she had awoken from one of the worst sleeps she had ever had in her life. She knew what had been keeping her up, and she did not like it. So, she had attempted to switch from weakling mode to fighting mode, allowing her body to overshadow her mind. The only problem was that it just wasn't working out for her, because every time she slipped, just a tiny bit, a certain kiss dwarfed everything else around her.
She hit the dummy harder in the chest, focusing only on how the straw sprang through the new rips she had created. She imagined it as a demon, wrong and horribly twisted. Killing them was the only thing she truly lived for. Her wrist flicked a dozen different times, her feet carrying her around the room faster than even she thought possible. She dove, and rolled, succumbing to her instincts. She fainted right, before darting left, producing a seraph blade from her belt. Her lips formed the angel's name, and she felt the blade warm in her hand as it blazed with holy light. Two arms moved simultaneously; one sent a dagger into the dummy's heart, the other tore its arm off with her whip.
She bared her teeth, not pausing before rushing in on the thing. Her left hand punched outward, fist connecting with its chest. Straw scraped against her knuckles, but she barley felt a thing. Another punch, this time with the but of her whip. One, two knees drove upwards. Another punch, a well aimed kick, slamming the angel blade into the thing's heart, imagining black blood bubbling through the hole it punched. Her lips tugged into a grin as she danced backward, and with a cry of bloodlust, she brought her whip down with her entire body behind it. The wire sliced the thing into shreds.
Isabelle sensed movement behind her, and whipped around, her weapons bared.
Jace raised his eyebrows from where he leaned against the doorframe. The gas lamps that illuminated the large, stone room, reflected off his golden hair, and made his tawny eyes sparkle.
"Well, I think you showed that dummy." He congratulated her with two sharp, staccato claps of his hands.
She glanced behind her, her eyes widening at the mess she had created. The thing was barely still on its stand. It hung down, not one piece of material left un-shredded. Beside it lay its arm, and across the room its decapitated head rested against the stone brick wall. Straw absolutely coated the ground.
"What do you want, Jace?" she asked, slightly coolly. She knew how good her 'brother' could read her. She knew that he knew all about her sudden lack of concentration and willpower. He might even know why it was happening.
"Well, I was walking past and just happened to hear sounds resembling the screeches of a dying cat. Naturally, I ran to aide this poor animal, but when I arrived it was just you." His eyes glinted with amusement. "You can imagine my disappointment when I found out I was not going to be able to be a hero today."
Isabelle rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, wrapping her whip around her forearm, and tucking the blade back into the belt. Her face was flushed, and she could feel her hair plastered to her forehead. Gross. She needed a shower, pronto.
Jace sighed at her lack of response, and shoved himself away from the wall. "If you were curious, Maryse is making bacon and eggs, and Luke's here. He brought-,"
"Luke?" Isabelle's head snapped up. "Did he have any news?"
"Um, cinnamon buns were on sale today," Jace responded with a shrug. "Does that count?"
Isabelle ignored him, shoving past , and tying her hair up into a loose bun. She could sense rather than hear Jace hurrying behind her, and she knew he was wondering what on earth was going on with her.
Her boots clicked slightly against the hard floor of the Institute, a result of endless corridors of cold stone. Not that she minded, of course. She loved this place. She loved the mystery that surrounded it, how gargoyles and grotesques grinned down at her, how vaulting flew over her head, and piers supported the most wonderfully crafted gothic arches. She truly felt more at home here than anywhere else in the world - except, maybe, Idris.
She had heard Clary once describe that everyday she woke up here it was like waking up in a new fairytale. Maybe to a girl who spent most of her days in the mundane world, it would feel like that. But to Isabelle Lightwood, Shadowhunter extraordinaire, this was simply the world she lived in. The Shadowhunter lifestyle hadn't changed that much over the centuries. Isabelle could see how a more modern life could be alluring to many. She enjoyed many of the perks of modern New York City, but to her and most Shadowhunter's alike, they were most comfortable when a veil of secrecy separated them from the mundane world outside.
She reached the door to the kitchen. Church lay beside it, his eyes flicking to Isabelle. She paused only briefly to scratch behind his ears, eliciting a deep purr, before entering the crowded kitchen. Jace slipped in beside her, making his way to where Clary sat talking to someone blocked from her view by her father's bulk. Robert was talking to Luke, both men looking pretty serious, as their low voices filled the room. She was surprised at how happy seeing Luke made her. She wasn't particularly close to him like Clary and Jace and even Simon seemed to be, but she knew him enough to know that she liked him.
"Luke!" she greeted, bounding up beside her father so she could wrap her arms around the werewolf.
"Isabelle," Luke responded, sounding slightly surprised as he hesitantly wound his arms around her. "How are you?"
"Good," she replied, bouncing back to her father's side. She peered past Robert to see who Clary and Jace were talking to. She felt her heart give a surprisingly strong pang of jealousy as she noted the long braided hair, and curvy figure of Maia.
Clary smiled at Isabelle, causing Maia to turn in her seat. She also smiled when she saw the tall Shadowhunter. "Hey, Isabelle!" she greeted, flashing her pretty smile. She was dressed in her customary low slung jeans, and t-shirt combo.
"Maia," Isabelle greeted, nodding her head. She couldn't help but resent the girl's presence just slightly. Though Maia was a nice girl, and one Isabelle could have considered befriending under different circumstances, she just couldn't get over her relationship with Simon. They were practically BFFs.
Isabelle had only recently learned how to befriend a girl when Clary came into her life. However, given how happy she made Jace, Clary was a special exception. Isabelle wasn't ready to extend her friendship to someone she couldn't help but to consider a sort of rival. And a challenging rival at that.
"Luke?" Isabelle interrupted whatever her father had been saying, turning away from the werewolf girl. "Has there been any news about Sebastian?" She could barely control her voice as she asked the question, the image of her little brother, Max, blotting her vision.
The room tensed perceptibly.
She heard her father give a surprise grunt. Across the room, by the stove, Maryse's back straightened, a small hiss slipping through her lips.
"What do you mean, Isabelle?" Luke scratched his chin, looking uncomfortable. He was throwing glances Clary's way, who Isabelle could see had tensed somewhat at the mention of her half-demon brother.
"I mean, about where he is," she clarified, crossing her arms over her chest. Her bangles slid down her arm to meet at her elbow. Their tinkling seemed loud in a suddenly quiet room.
"Yeah, there is." Jace's voice sounded from across the room.
Isabelle whirled to face him, her dark eyes wide.
"In Hell," Jace said flatly. His eyes were expressionless as he looked at his deflating sister. "I know where I stabbed him, Izzy. He's gone. It's just the demon in him, made his body disappear."
Isabelle's hands tightened into fists, as an uncontrollable anger filled her. It came every time she thought about Sebastian, or, rather, Jonathan. To her, Hell wasn't a good enough punishment for what he did to Max. And to her, Jace's explanation concerning his disappearance wasn't good enough. If there was even the slightest chance that Sebastian was still breathing, she would hunt him down and show him what Hell really looked like.
Isabelle closed her eyes with a sigh, forcing herself to be calm. She could have argued, but she knew how angry Jace got when she talked about Valentine's true son. Not to mention her parents. They would never forget what Jonathan did to their little boy.
The room's attention was still focused on her, so she gave a curt nod.
The atmosphere didn't relax.
"Well," Luke broke the taught silence, banging a fist against the countertop, "I should be getting back to Jocelyn's place. She's making us brunch." He raised his eyebrows with a grin. "Always a bit of an adventure." He got his keys out of his pocket, and pointed them in Clary's direction. "You coming?"
Clary shook her head, red curls bouncing. "I'm going to stay here for a while."
"Maia?" Luke asked, swivelling in the were-girl's direction.
She also denied, quickly explaining, "I think I'm gonna head over to Simon's. See if he survived without me." She flashed a brilliant smile.
Isabelle's mood became even fouler.
Luke waved a quick goodbye before exiting the crowded kitchen, his work boots thudding against the floor with every step he took. Isabelle had always thought of werewolves being graceful, but she could have heard Luke from a mile away. Even Clary was wincing.
"While, like I said, I'm gonna split." Maia stood, clapping her hands against her front pockets. She swept her braids into a ponytail, looking towards Clary. "Have you seen Simon lately?"
"No, actually." Clary's brow furrowed as her face transformed into a frown. "I've been really busy, and it's been a while."
"I don't see why you're so sad," Jace interjected, slinging his arm over Clary's shoulder. "I'm twice more interesting to listen to, and a gazillion times better to look at." He flashed his stunning grin, tawny eyes dancing. He seemed to have gotten over his anger at Isabelle's words. "And you get to look at me all day. Now who could be unhappy with that?"
"You're right, Jace," Clary agreed, batting her eyes at him. "I simply have no idea why I would want to take a break from you."
Maia snorted, grabbing her bag from the back of her seat. "Have I ever told you I strongly dislike you?" She asked Jace with a raised eyebrow.
The Shadowhunter boy grinned lazily, waving a hand. "Many times, my dear werewolf. And each time I refuse to believe you."
"Of course." Maia went to leave, but paused as she passed Isabelle. Her large eyes flicked upwards, and Isabelle wished she could spit in them. "Have you seen Simon lately? I know you two are close."
Isabelle could feel Clary and Jace's eyes boring into her from across the room. She was so glad that she did not blush, or else her cheeks would have been scarlet, whether from anger or embarrassment she didn't know.
She remembered the concern in Simon's eyes as he had looked at her the night before; the gentleness about him as he questioned her about her bizarre actions, and the strength that she had felt as he had crushed her against him. She could still smell his scent, a mixture of Downey and a hint of blood. A shiver shot down her spine.
"No," she replied, the lie coming out effortlessly. "I haven't seen him lately."
"Oh." Maia just shrugged, continuing on her way to the door. "I'll see you all later."
Isabelle watched her disappear through the door, barely containing her jealousy. She shook her head, turning back towards Clary and Jace, but both of them were focused away from her, towards her parents. Maryse and Robert didn't look like they had absorbed any of the recent conversation. Their heads were bent together as they talked in lower voices. Suspicion unfurled within her, her eyes narrowing.
Her parents seemed to sense that they were being watched. They raised their heads together, eyes sweeping the silent room.
"Your mother and I have some business to attend to," her father rumbled, picking up a piece of bacon from the sizzling pan before Maryse. His hand was covered with multiple runes. "We'll be back soon."
"Business," Jace repeated slowly. "Before the eggs are even done? Where are your manners!"
Maryse rolled her blue eyes, turning the heat off of the bacon. "How about you finish them, Jace. It will be a good learning opportunity."
Jace's eyebrows rose in surprise, and apparent alarm. "Me? Work? Never. You cook don't you?" he asked Clary, looking desperate.
She gave him a bland smile. "Nope. Come on, Jace, put on that apron."
Maryse's thin lips twitched as if considering pulling into a smile, while Robert's deep laugh filled the room, bouncing off the thick walls. "We'll be back soon." They pushed past Isabelle, her father squeezing her shoulder before leaving the room.
Isabelle didn't feel like spending her morning in such a happy atmosphere. It wasn't distracting enough, and it was leaving her feeling hollow in a strange way. The sensation wasn't something she had experienced until she had met Simon.
"I'm going to take a shower," she muttered, following her parent's path. She pushed through the door, ignoring Clary's burst of laughter behind her, most likely at something ridiculous Jace had come up with in order to impress her.
As soon as the barrier closed between her and the happy couple, she allowed herself to collapse against the wall. She let her head drop into her hands, her fingers massaging her temples. Why did everything seem so empty all of the sudden? She had never cared before she met Simon whether she had someone. Any boy she spent time with was most likely temporary anyway. But now - now the sight of so much happiness just left her feeling like she was the only one missing out. Clary and Jace, Alec and Magnus, even her parents were closer after Max's death. Only Isabelle remained outside the bubble of happiness that had swallowed everyone else.
Was Simon feeling the same way?
"Izzy?" Isabelle nearly jumped. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts, she hadn't even heard Clary come up beside her. As soon as she saw the look of concern on the smaller girl's face, all her barriers flew up. She pushed off the wall, glaring down at Clary. "What?"
Clary held up her hands in a gesture of peace. "Nothing. I just want to talk. I think-," she glanced over her shoulder towards the closed kitchen door, and lowered her voice. "Something happened in Alicante."
Isabelle frowned. "What do you mean?"
Clary looked backwards again, seeming agitated. "Can we go talk in your room, please?"
"Sure." Isabelle tried to keep calm, but inside her heart was slamming against her ribcage, adrenaline sizzling through her veins. She could sense the anxiety surrounding Clary, as if it was tangible thing.
The two girls walked through the Institute side by side. Silence stretched between them like a bridge neither wanted to cross. Clary's agitation only seemed to grow with every step she took. By the time they reached Izzy's door, her lips were swollen from chewing on them so hard. It was really a terrible habit, Isabelle thought. Not complimentary at all.
Isabelle gently closed her door with a gentle click, before turning to regard the other girl. Clary was gazing around the room, eyeing the bounteous piles of clothing covering most of the surfaces in the room. Including the floor. A few weapons may have been scattered around as well. Isabelle just didn't see why someone's room had to be pristine all the time. She felt far more comfortable with her scattered clothing than with pressed bed sheets, and neatly organized boxes. It was so cold. That's why she avoided Jace's room as much as possible. It was too depressing. And lately she'd been depressed enough.
"So?" She finally burst, unable to take the suspense for any longer. "Are you just going to eat your own lip, or tell me what's going on?"
Clary winced, raising her hands to her ears. "Ow! You don't have to yell!"
Isabelle shook her head, holding her hands out before her. "Excuse me? That was not yelling. Believe me, if I yelled at you, you would be cowering."
"Oh, right." Clary grabbed her stele from her pocket, and held out her arm. Isabelle saw the familiar sign for enhanced hearing drawn just below her palm, except it looked slightly altered. She watched, curious, as Clary quickly drew another rune overtop it, and they both melted into her skin, leaving faint scars.
"What was that?" Izzy asked, leaning forward to better see the thin white lines. "It looked like the enhanced-,"
"Hearing, yeah." Clary sighed brushing some fiery curls behind her ear. "I tweaked it a little, so that you could focus more on exactly what you wanted to hear. Before, everything around you was enhanced. With this rune-," she held up her wrist, "-only what you wish to hear is enhanced, while everything else stays at a normal volume. It's good for listening in crowded rooms."
Isabelle arced an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Do you do that often, or-?"
Clary gave her a look, that quickly demolished any of the brief amusement Izzy had found. "Of course not. I was just curious what happened in Idris, so - I listened in to Luke and your Dad." She frowned, her green eyes travelling towards the ceiling. "I think Jace may have noticed I wasn't listening to him."
"Don't worry," Isabelle said, waving an elegant hand as if to clear the air of the thought. "I ignore him all the time. Just tell me what they were saying. I knew something was going on." She raised her chin in triumph, hands forming two fists at her sides. "Did they find Sebastian? Is he dead?"
Clary held up her hands, shaking her head. "Not exactly. Listen," she leaned in closer, her voice dropping just above a whisper. "Someone vandalized the Gard."
It took a moment for the words to register, and when they did, Isabelle's mouth opened in shock. No one vandalized the Gard. It was the most well protected building in all of Shadowhunter history, for God's sake. Isabelle thought back to its high walls, covered with protective spells and runes. Shadowhunters never left the place unattended. Anyone who would even think of messing around in the guard was either suicidal or insane. The Clave would never let something like that pass. They would be in a complete uproar. Alicante would be in an uproar.
"That's impossible, Clary." Isabelle asked, making sure the words came out slow and clear. Perhaps it would give Clary the impression that Izzy thought she had the brain of a five year old, but she needed time to organize her thoughts.
"No, somebody managed it." Clary did look slightly offended, but covered it pretty well. "They wrote on the wall - in blood. Shadowhunter blood."
"How do you know it was Shadowhunter?" Isabelle suddenly felt sick.
Clary swallowed, looking slightly nauseated. "Because they left the body below the message. He was a guard."
Sebastian. The thought was a snarl that vibrated throughout Isabelle's slim body. He was the only person she knew who was twisted and evil enough to do something like that. She suddenly had an image of sweet little Max, lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor of the Penhallow's kitchen floor. His face had been twisted into one of absolute terror.
Bloodlust overcame her. Her fists clenched so hard that she felt blood trickling down her fingers where her nails had penetrated the skin.
"What did it say?" Though inside Isabelle was consumed by a raging inferno, her voice came out very calm. "The message?"
The blood drained from Clary's face as she repeated the words:
"Valentine's will shall be done."
DUH DUH DUUUH!
So, I may be expanding the story somewhat. . . This whole fan fiction thing is just too fun! Anyway, PLEASE REVIEW! Seriously, I am dying to hear your thoughts on this. Really. Truly. Review!
