Sometime excess pain that we experience may be best reason for birth of our talent and sometime our excess talent may be best reason for our pain.
-Rajendra Ojha
Isabelle leads us through the club to meet up with the dark-haired boy, whom she introduced as Alec, her brother. Jace and I walk side by side, our shoulders brushing more often than not, and he eventually places a hand on the small of my back to guide me through the crowd so we don't get separated. Alec frowns and shoots me daggers. Is he jealous or something? I wonder and study him curiously, which only acquires me another death glare; if only looks could kill.
"The usual?" Isabelle asks the boys and they nod, but Jace looks a little reluctant to agree. Isabelle grins mischievously and grabs my hand to lead me away with her. "Do you have any weapons?" she asks and I nod. She seems skeptical because none are visible, but continues to pull me along.
"What exactly are we doing?" I ask, wanting to know what the plan is so I'm not taken by surprise.
"We're the unsuspecting, mundane bait," she says as if it's the most natural thing in the world.
"You put yourself out there as bait?" I ask in disbelief. She gives me a funny look, almost as if to say haven't you done this before? Then her eyes trail down to my uncovered legs and she shakes her head.
"We have to do something about that," she says and points at my marked legs. "What size shoe do you wear?" she asks, and I reply. "Great, we're the same size."
She leads us to the restrooms and hops up onto the bathroom counter, patting the place beside her for me to join; I oblige. When she hikes up her floor length dress, I see that she has thigh high boots on, and that she wants to trade shoes.
"Smart," I compliment her quick thinking. She smiles and nods, and when we are done trading shoes, I find that her boots reach up to just over my knees and I tug my dress down so that it meets the cusp of the boots. We hop down from the counter and strut out of the bathroom.
"Now," she says, linking our arms, "We reel 'em in." I laugh lightly and we thread through the club together until we come to a halt near the bar.
Soon enough, we spot a black and blue-haired demon wooing a young-looking girl, probably too young to even be here in this club even though it is technically an all-ages club.
"Watch and learn, Clary," Isabelle says haughtily and strides over to the demon posing as a mundane and whispers something in his ear. He looks over to me and I give the sexiest smile I can muster regardless of the disgust churning in the pit of my stomach. Isabelle floats back over to me and wraps an arm around my waist, so I do the same and we dance through the crowd, through a maze of halls and into the storage room that we predetermined as our rendezvous point.
The room is dark, the only light filtering in from the busy street, dimmed by the grubby windows. Boxes of old strobe lights, smoke machines, and DJ booths litter the room, along with cords and wires coiled on the ground, waiting to trip someone. I wrinkle my nose at the dust floating around, making me feel like sneezing. We wait for minutes before anything happens.
When the door opens and the blue-haired demon come in, he grins maliciously at us. "Two young girls, inviting a stranger to be alone with them; stupid, stupid humans," he says in a bored voice, as if we are hardly worth his time. He's trying to scare us; he probably uses the same line for every girl he corners.
"Au contraire, démon, we are not alone," I say smoothly and take out my downsized seraph blade.
"Though, if we were, we could still handle you," Isabelle adds as her electrum whip slithers down her wrist. The demons eyes widen and he turns to retreat through the door, only to be faced with Jace and Alec, both brandishing their seraph blades as well. I quickly call my blade to life, and it grows from its pen-like form into its full two foot long figure.
The boys advance on the demon and it darts to the side, but Isabelle quickly flicks out her whip and it coils around his legs, bringing him to his knees on the dirty floor. He glares up at us with pure hatred burning in his black eyes.
Jace walks up to him slowly, twisting his blade in his hands to instill fear in the demon, who has stared at me the whole time. His black gaze is guarded, but I can see that he looks scared and curious at the same time.
"Now, how shall we dispose of you?" he murmurs in a dangerously low voice. He runs his index finger the length of the sharp blade, careful not to cut himself. "No begging? No pleading? You're no fun," Jace laughs out sharply. Jace, bored with the demon, who is still eyeing me, raises his seraph blade up, readying himself for the killing blow.
"Wait!" the demon blurts out, halting Jace's advancing blade. "I can give you information," he says in a breathless voice.
Alec laughs. "What kind of information could you possibly give us?" he says spitefully.
The demons eyes return to me with a flash of recognition. "You are Valentine's daughter," he says, making my eyes go wide in shock. My father is dead, as is my mother. "Rumor has it, he's alive."
"You're lying," I hiss and step forward, pushing Jace out of my way. "He's dead, and I know he's dead. I saw him die." I hold my blade to his throat, ready to slash it and stop his rambling.
"You haven't heard? Poor girl, last one to hear that her father is really alive. I'll bet your mother is too, but they apparently abandoned you," he eggs me on, seeing that he has no room for escape and making the worst out of an already bad situation.
The three other shadowhunters stand there listening to us, weapons still at the ready, but they are obviously shocked at the reveal of my heritage.
"You know nothing." The blade in my hand jerks to the side with the sickening noise of its neck being abscised from the shoulders. "I have to go," I say flatly and turn on my borrowed heels to exit the storage room.
My mind buzzes with anticipation and nervousness. Demons lie all the time, and I'm almost positive that the creature was lying too, but it planted a seed of doubt. What if my parents are alive? I didn't see them die, they ordered me to run as they lay there dying, or so I thought.
I weave through the crowd, shoving those who would not move. I was not in the mood to deal with stubborn mundanes, so I gave out glares by the dozen at anyone who stopped to stare. My mind was leaving me, going back to the day that we went on a family hunt, the day that my life changed.
We lived in a secluded mansion in a very small valley, far away from any Idrisian towns. Every so often, my mother and father and I would go out on a sort of family hunt where they would evaluate my skills in real combat and help me improve. It was one of those nights.
We got a tip that there was a small cluster of demons that penetrated the border and were nesting in a nearby forest. I rode my Percheron, Miss Lucie, named after the main heroine in my favorite novel, "A Tale of Two Cities". My parents each rode their horses as well, my father leading with mother and I flanking him on either side as always.
We rode for miles upon miles until we reached our destination: a dreary-looking mountainside bordered with a dying forest. We searched for hours until we found a hidden crevice that lead into a dank cave. Little critters scampered across the floor, water dripped from every surface, and the air was musty and hard to breathe. We stayed grouped together since we were in a new environment. We wandered and listened for any signs of demons for a while before stumbling on some evidence that indicated the presence of demons nearby.
The smell of rotted garbage permeated the air with its bitter smell, but we followed it until we came to a room of sorts. Hydra and Scorpios demons stood clustered in the room, hissing in foreign languages. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered that those kinds of demons often served as bodyguards, but it was quickly forgotten as my father worked out an eager plan of attack. My mother seemed hesitant; she's a great fighter, but she doesn't like fighting often and she always goes with her gut feeling.
The fighting goes by in a simple blur, we take out all the demons in a breeze of slashing, swiping, and jabbing. Before we know it, the demons are gone.
Satisfied, my father turns to lead us back outside. We make it out easily, but when we exit the cave, we find the area splattered with blood, like red paint carelessly thrown on a once-beautiful canvas. My beautiful white Percheron lay slaughtered alongside my parents' horses, their beautiful manes shredded and lying in tufts on the ground. I draw my sword, ready to massacre whoever- or whatever- dared lay a hand on my Lucie.
None of us were expecting Agramon.
"Clary!" someone yells, but I drown them out, still heading for the club exit, sickened by the memories and in need of somewhere to empty my stomach. "Clary!" the voice calls again, and I continue pushing on towards the exit, which is now so close to my reach. The owner of the voice grabs my wrist and spins me around suddenly, and I have my dagger out and poised at their throat.
Simon's scared eyes stare at me, sending distress signals. I place the knife back into my thigh-sheath and turn to continue walking. Simon followed closely on my heels, annoying me. "Not now, Simon. Leave me alone," I yell over the noise. He tries to ask me what's wrong, so I turn and push him to get my message through: I don't want to talk or to be talked to.
He looks worried as I tell him once more to leave me alone, and the bile rises slowly up my stomach, and I know if I don't find a bathroom or empty alley soon, some mundanes are going to be very angry with my upset stomach. Simon must see the sickly look on my face because he mutters for me to call him and leaves without another word.
I now have to race for the exit, and I barely make it into the alley before my stomach turns out onto the ground. Tears try to prickle at the back of my eyes, but I don't let them. I blink hard several times to force them back. When I am done, I spit the remnants of my saliva into the trash and wipe the back of my hand across my mouth.
I turn to leave, and head back to Luke's, but my path is blocked by the familiar leather clad muscles that I always seem to run into. Jace's golden eyes gaze down at me in curiosity before he steps back to give me room, which I gratefully use to glide past him in an attempt to leave. Whatever happened between us in the club earlier can't happen again. I can't be distracted with a boy.
To my utter dismay, Jace catches my wrist in his slim, calloused hand. I stop in my tracks and clear my face before I turn and yank my hand back. "Do you need something?" I ask sharply. He smirks at my brusqueness, but holds out a bottle of water, offering it to me.
I eye the bottle peculiarly as if there is a catch, and I'm just not seeing it. I don't even know the guy, and he's following me into an alley and offering me water. Well, you did dance with him and almost kiss him, the tiny voice in my mind says.
"It's not poisoned or anything," Jace says, jokingly trying to reassure me. I roll my eyes and gratefully take the water bottle, water-falling some into my mouth, swishing, and spitting it out to the side. With the horrible taste and all remnants gone, I chug half of the remaining water. "Very classy," Jace says with a smirk when I am finished.
"Does it look like I give a shit?" I say, using my 'French' to make the point. "It's not like I'm trying to impress anyone," I say.
"Really? Because most girls will fight fo-" he doesn't get to finish because I cut him off.
"Don't," I say, raising a warning hand. "I'm not in the mood," I say with a razor edge to my voice. Jace's smirk grows, as does his already inflamed ego.
"That's got to be the first time a girl's ever said that to me," Jace mused with a fake, thoughtful smile. I roll my eyes and brush past him and onto the sidewalk teeming with people.
"Obviously, it doesn't hurt your ego one bit," I say and continue walking with no destination in mind.
"Never," he smiles at me and keeps in step with my fast pace- as fast as my short legs will carry me, at least.
I don't reply, and since he doesn't try striking up conversation, I let him walk with me in hope that he will get bored and leave me be. Too bad that just doesn't seem to be the kind of person he is.
"You hungry?" he asks politely.
"No," I say, not really in the mood to go anywhere with him, but my stomach betrays me with a loud growl.
"Sure you're not, Red," he says sarcastically. Sarcasm seems to be one of his most dominant traits, I've noticed. Good thing I'm fluent in sarcasm.
"What does it matter to you?" I ask lightly, already getting pulled into the friendly banter.
"Just being polite. It's not like me to just leave a girl stranded and hungry."
"You mean, it's not like you to not try to get into a girls bed," I reply haughtily.
"Are you asking me? Most girls aren't that bold," he laughs lightly, trying to charm me.
"I can see right through your act, so you can stop it now. It does get a tad annoying after a while," I say and glance up at him. His golden eyes are staring at me with a curiosity that I have yet to see on him in the short amount of time that I've known him- which is only a span of two days.
"Can you, now?" he murmurs quietly, still gazing at me intently. I feel a rush of blood heat my cheeks at his scrutiny, and I turn my head, letting my hair fall around me.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I ask in another feeble attempt to get rid of him. I want nothing more than to head back to Luke's and sleep off the events of the evening.
"As a matter of fact, I do," he says while glancing at the nonexistent watch on his wrist. "Do you have a phone I could use to make a call?" he asks politely. I oblige since it will get him on his merry little way sooner.
I hand him my cell and he dials a number and holds the phone to his ear. Then, a faint ringing sound comes from one of his many pockets. He reaches into an inside pocket on his leather jacket and pulls out his very own cell phone. I realize with a frustrated huff what he just did.
"Thanks for your number," he says smoothly and shrugs his shoulders innocently. I roll my eyes and snatch my phone back from his grasp, almost dropping it in the process.
"I bet that's not the first time you've ever used that one," I say in irritation. I can tell that he gets around a lot, just from his cocky confidence and the way he talks to me.
"I'm nothing if not honest," he chuckles. "I can admit to that much."
"Very smooth; I'll take that as a yes. Now that you've weaseled my number into your grasp, would you mind letting me be?" I ask with annoyance, frustration, and tiredness present in my voice. His sarcastic grin dims into a smaller, more genuine one and he nods slowly.
"I'll call you!" he shouts as I walk away. I laugh under my breath and call back a reply.
"Don't count on an answer," I say lightly and continue the trek back towards the comfort of Luke's small bookstore in much better spirits that may or may not be due to a certain golden boy.