Unexpected Love, chap. 4
Jace P.O.V.
I walked into ms. Max field's chemistry classroom, and what I saw felt like an ice cube sliding down my back. Clary's seat was empty. I went up to the teacher. "Is Clary Fray here today?" I asked her. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, she's not. And you, Mr. Wayland owe me an hour of detention." She said, pointing a bony finger at me.
"Yes mam." I said. Like hell I was going to detention! Clary never missed a school day. Waiting to get out of that frickin classroom was like being starved for days and being sat in front of a poisoned feast; you knew to get what you wanted, there would be consequences. Hell if I cared about the consequences . I started whistling. Ms. Maxfield turned away from writing a formula on the board. With chalk. She was so old fashioned. "Mr. Wayland, I would appreciate it if you stopped that."
I smiled, probably looking like the spawn of satan. "Fuck off."
And so my plan was in gear. I ended up in the principal's office. I tapped a green '#1 principal!' Pencil against the cherrywood desk. The door opened and closed behind me. I knew it was him far before the door closed. Mr. Steele sat in his desk chair, burying his face in his hands. He sighed heavily. In my pocket, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from one of my friends, Cole:
NEED A DISTRACTION?
YEA.
ON IT.
"Mr. Wayland, what the hell am I going to do with you?"
I made a TSKing sound. "Cursing in front of a student. Bad boy, Mr. S. Do I need to tell your mommy?"
He glared at me. "You seem to have no problem saying worse."
"Like what?"
"Nice try."
"I thought so too."
"JACE WAYLAND-"
Suddenly, the intercom on his desk came on, and Ms. Weathers nasally voic came through. "Tom, the pipes in the boys bathrooms exploded."
Good job Cole.
He scratched his gray head. "I'll be there in a minute. And you," he pointed a fat finger at me. "STAY. HERE."
I saluted. "Yes sir!" I said in a deep voice. He kept on glaring. Once he left, I got up, one thought on my mind.
"See you soon, Clary." I whispered, and jumped though the window.
Clary P.O.V.
I ran, twigs whipping against me skin, my sweater flying behind me and hanging off one shoulder. I was freezing, what with just my white tank top and polka dot shorts with ruffles on the side. The shorts only came to slightly past my butt. But I didn't care about any of that. The only thing I cared about was the foot steps and behind me. I thought back to the scene that I had just witnessed:
I sat in my bed, frozen from shock as the window slowly eased open. White hair and a menacing expression filled my vision. There , on the window pane, was a matrix of swirling lines that made up some sort of symbol melted into the glass, the edges of it still steaming. My blood turned to ice in my veins. The men stepped in, wiping his black boots on my carpet-MY CARPET!-and they came away red. With blood. "Hello, Clarissa." He said. Those two words were enough to break away the fog in my brain.
I jumped out of bed, hurling a vase from my bedside table at him. He picked a piece of purple vase out of his arm, the sharp tip slick with blood. He looked up at me, eyes blazing. "That wasn't very nice, CLARISSA." He growled, baring his white teeth.
And suddenly he was holding me up by my throat, cutting of my oxygen. I clawed at his hands, my head swimming. I made a decision that I knew I would regret later; I kicked him where it hurt. When he bent over with a grunt, releasing me, I bolted down the stairs. I tripped over my feet, sending myself tumbling down the wood steps. I screamed. I hit the tiled floor at the bottom, the wind knocked out of me. I grabbed a sweater, pulling it on. It smelled like Jace, and that somehow calmed my speeding heart. Why did I put the sweater on? I don't know. It just felt like the right thing to do. My mom bolted out of her bedroom, wide eyed. She looked at me holding a cleaver. How had that gotten there? Oh yeah. I was in the kitchen now. I had...picked it up. Was I really going to use it?
I decided I was.
If it was necessary , I would.
I might have to murder someone tonight, and it didn't bother me one bit. "Clary." My mom said. "What happened."
"Your daughter apparently doesn't know how to treat her elders, Jocelyn."
Mom visibly tensed. "Valentine."
She said coldly, spinning around.
"I think it's time for you to leave."
"Apparently she learns it from you."
"I. Said. Leave."
"No. Amacisęl? Kill the girl."
"What?!" I said, just as the creature from my dream slithered into my living room, knocking over a jug of primer. Mom tried to push me behind her, but before she could, Valentine jumped on her. Just as the creature-or Amacisęl, as Valentine had called him-, pounced on me. He hissed in my face, snapping for my neck. I almost puked from the smell-of garbage and rot that washed over me. I heard my mother scream, and I turned my head to look at her. That was a mistake. The creature, which I figured out was a demon, bit into my wrist, into the veins, with one of its many teeth. I screamed, because for a second I felt pure agony. The best way to explain what it felt like would be to say someone stabbed me, ran over it with a Mack truck, and opened the wound with a cube of salt and then blasted fire under my skin, stitching up the wounds with a rope lined with splinters.
"CLARY!" My mothers terrified voice brought me from my shock of pain. "Shut up!" Valentine screamed and then...and then he stabed my mother through the heart. Her eyes widened in shock and then she just…died. All of the life drained out of her in an instant. You hear in books, how people always look like they're sleeping when they're dead. Well, the books are a hole lotta wrong. My mom didn't look like she was sleeping-she looked dead. Out of all the emotions swirling through me, I directed my mind towards rage. I swung out with all the force I possessed, and the cleaver chopped off the demon Amacisęl's head, sending it tumbling against the grey marble tile floor. The demons blood splash across my chest and arms, and I sucked in a sharp breath at the burn, but ignored it other wise. I stood up, and I realized the cleaver had one of those weird symbols on its hilt. "Stop right there Clarissa." Valentine said, and I knew he could see the plain rage and probably insane-ness in my face. I smiled and laughed deep in my throat.
"Come and get me." I said in a voice that sounded nothing like my own. And then u ran out the door, into the freezing night.
At the thought of my mom's body, lying on the floor, pale and blood spattered, I made a small noise at the back of my throat. I stopped when I felt it. The horrible feeling that my insides were being ripped apart, exposing everything. I succumbed to the urge to lose everything I ever ate in my life. After I was done puking like some drunk in the woods, I laid on my back, staring up at the star strewn sky. A wave of heat washed over me and, oh god, I was so hot. I struggled to take my sweater off, but no that was taking TO MUCH TIME!
And I was so hot!
I turned to the lake that I had played in a few times as a kid, the only really open space in the forest. Yes. This would help me. I ran toward the water, smiling as the icy waters lapped at my legs. Oh. Just a little farther-
"GET HER!"
Oh no. He found me. The footsteps trailing me were now right behind me. I sank completely into the murky water. Hands grabbed me, tugging me back. I struggled, icy water filling my sinuses and clenching my throat tighter. I screamed once I realized what was happening, water bubbles shooting out in front of me in a tunnel. The hands yanked me up, placing a rag over my nose and mouth. Chloroform, I realized, right before the hands dragged me away and I lost myself. I was gone,
Gone...
Gone...
Gone...
Jace P.O.V.
I had always thought the worst thing that could ever happen to me was that I would be murdered. But no. This was much worse. I was in the back of a car, two burly looking men with weird tattoos on their arms staring at me, looking absolutely disgusted. Yep. I've gone insane. I'm imagining twin hulk's with weird tattoos on their arms jealous of me. Wow. One with this weird, seriously ugly Mohawk thing goin on said,
"I thought he would've given up more of a fight than the girl."
The girl.
My eyes snapped up, though I kept my head down.
"Eh, you never know." The one with the curly Afro said. "She's Jocelyn's daughter. And with that hair of hers, she looks like she'd have some fire In her. Though I agree she surprised me too. She's got lots a fight in her for such a tiny thing."
Jocelyn's daughter. Hair. Fire. Tiny.
Clary.
The jeep jerked to a stop, stopping me from strangling the heck out of the two bimbos with my handcuffs. Handcuffs that burned with every move I made. They led me to a room, one keeping his meaty hand over my eyes. "Get your fucking meatloaf hand off of my eyes." I growled.
He strapped to a chair, putting my still handcuffed hands behind the chair. He slapped me. "Shut up!" He barked, before leaving the room. I sighed. I turned. I froze. I died inside. You know what I said earlier? About how being murdered was no longer the worst thing that could happen to me? Yea. THIS was the worst thing that could happen to me. Clar sat hunched over in her chair, her hair matted and clinging together where it wasn't hanging in her face. Tears were sliding down her ale face and dropping into her sleep shorts. She had cuts everywhere. I was going to make them hurt for every little scratch on her body.
"Clary."
She looked up when I whispered her name, tears still tumbling down her freckle dusted cheeks.
"He killed her." She whispered, her chin trembling. The broken look in her eyes broke my heart.
I reached out to cup her face me. I was pleased to find out my hands were free. "Who?" I said gently, rubbing my thumb over her cheekbone. "Who did 'he' kill?"
She scooted closer to me (she was still bound to the chair. Why, I didn't know but would find out.), lying her head on my shoulder. To my horror, her skin was feverish, covered in sweat, and her breathing labored. Something more than grief was wrong with her. "My mom." She said, letting out a sob that sounded like something coming out of an animal. It would've been funny, if the situation wasn't so serious and my clary wasn't crying. But what she said struck through my head like and ice pick.
My mom.
"Hey," I said, rubbing her back and pulling her closer. "I'm here. You're okay. No ones going to hurt you."
She shook her head. "No." She whispered. "No, I'm not okay."
And she fell asleep in my arms.
Clary P.O.V.
"No." I whispered. "No, I'm not okay."
I snuggled into him, letting his nearness comfort me and bring me into a peaceful sleep.
I woke with a start, breathing heavily, eyes darting everywhere, looking for the source that woke me. It turned out it was only myself. I gasped as the heat surrounding me like a hot blanket deepened, nonexistent flames licking every inch of my skin. I arched my back gasping. But that wasn't even the worst part. It felt like my skull was being broken into tiny pieces, one by one. I screamed as the world blurred around me and it was only me. The only thing keeping me from blessed numbness was the pain. Oh god, it hurt so much. I thought felt hands shaking me, someone calling my name. I gave up trying to fight back. As if sensing my internal serenader, the ties on my wrists and ankles loosened, allowing me to slump into a pair of arms that gladly took me, holding me close.
"Clary?" Came Jace's terrified, quiet whisper.
I couldn't find the strength to answer.
Jace P.O.V.
I was woken from sleep by a scream. I jumped up, falling out of my chair in the process. Clary sat in her chair, screaming her head off and clenching her eyes shut, her jaw tight. I ran over to her, leaning in front of her.
"Clary." I said, shaking her.
She didn't seem to hear me.
"Clary!"
Still no answer.
"CLARY!"
She fell out of the chair, slumping into my arms. Her hair fell over her eyes in coils, the flame red a stark contrast to the pale of her skin.
"Clary?"
Nothing. And then, just the smallest of movements; her tiny hand squeezed mine. Afro walked in. His lips turned up in disgust.
"Is she dead?" He said, pointing a sausage like finger at the girl in my arms. "No," I snarled. "But you're gonna be."
Before I had a chance to murder him though, someone else did. A knife reached forward and slit the mans throat. He dropped dead, to the floor. A girl in a black dress that hit about mid-thigh, black thigh high boots and a leather jacket that was (guess what?) black. With her brown eyes and black braid, she looked pretty badass all together. She looked at me and frowned.
"Why're you lookin at me? You just killed someone."
She rolled her eyes. "Stupid mundanes." I heard her mutter under her breath. And then she saw Clary.
She walked over to me, crouching in front of us.
"What's wrong with her?"
"I don't know." I admitted.
She picked up one of Clary's wrists, turning it over to her inner wrist. We both took a sharp intake of breath. On the inside of Clary's right wrist, there was a huge gash, unmistakably a bite. The veins in her wrist and all the way up to the crook of her elbow were dark and standing out. How the hell did I not notice this before?
"Demon bite." The girl announced. She tried to take clary, but I wouldn't let her. She sighed. "Fine. But come on. We have to leave. I'm Isabelle by the way. And we somehow ended up in a taxi. The conversation with the driver went like this:
Isabelle: Возьмите меня к старой заброшенной церкви, пожалуйста.
Russian dude: Дерьмо. Что с ней случилось?
Isabelle: Она только что был один ко многим напитки.
Russian cab dude: Эх, что угодно. Она лучше Не Одинг!
Isabelle: Спасибо.
Russian cab driver dude: Какая разница. Просто платить мне.
Isabelle: Будет сделано.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
She turned to me. "The institute." She said simply, as if it was insane that I didn't know so already.
"What's the institute?"
She sighed, checking her red lipstick for flaws in a mirror, though there were none. "You'll see."
I looked down at my very own sleeping beauty curled up in my arms. Her mouth was slightly open, and he had her left hand curled in my hand whilst the other was layer out across my lap. Her clay he's were torn and a little damp. "We're in New York." I whispered, looking at the lit up skyscrapers passing by the window in a blur. "We're back where we met."
She snuggled closer to me, a sign that she had heard me. I ran the back of my hand across her cheek, and in that instant I knew one thing for sure: I was in love with her. This girl held my heart in her hand and I had no idea what she would do with it.
Возьмите меня к старой заброшенной церкви, пожалуйста= Take me to the abandoned church, please.
Дерьмо. Что с ней случилось? =Shit. What happened to her?
Она только что был один ко многим напитки. =She had one too many drinks.
Эх, что угодно. Она лучше Не Одинг!=Eh, whatever. She better not be ODing!
Спасибо. =Thank you.
Какая разница. Просто платить мне. =Whatever. Just pay me.
Будет сделано.=Will do.
So, thats russian. I had a dance conference this weekend, so sorry zi couldn't update sooner. And to ther readers of: darken in my imagination,unknown fate, switched, and TMI truth or dare, they will be updated! I'll a new chapter soon. Bye, darlings! :)~Mermaid12108
