Not so happy with this chapter, but the next is good, I promise! Like I said, I'll reply to the previous chapters reviews here:
Guest: Here it is!
xQueezlex: Thank you! I think a lot of people are looking forward to it, too. And that line was definitely Amy inspired.
: I completely agree! Thanks again!
FluffyFluffLover (Guest): No, I think you're right. I don't know if I've said this, but I actually want to write a whole new fic where she does make the right choice, just because of your review!
Chapter 3 review replies:
xQueezlex: Thank you again! Here's the update!
from Ravenclaw: I love the names you come up with for Sebastian; they entertain me to no end. Thanks!
: Thanks! Hope you like it.
lucyhalemass: Here it is!
Clary opened the door to her room, only to find Jonathan standing in the hallway, hand poised to knock. "Hey, I was just about to ask if you wanted a lift."
She squinted suspiciously at him. "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"
He raised his hands. "Hey, if you want to catch a subway all the way into the city in cold weather, be my guest."
"I never said I didn't want it." Clary shoved past him to get into the hallway herself, closing her door behind her.
Her brother looked at her outfit. "Is that what you're wearing?"
She nodded distrustfully.
"Good."
If her brother thought it was 'good', she surely wasn't going to have the guys pounding down her door. But next to Isabelle, it wouldn't matter if she were naked.
Clary had stopped pressing the doorbell somewhere around ninth grade. It took ages for someone to answer the door, and when Isabelle knew she was coming over, she usually just left it unlocked. She'd shared the electronic code for the gate, too, after making Clary swear three times on her on her Prismacolor she wouldn't tell anyone. She eased into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind her and letting the warm air melt her nose from the icicle the icy winds outside had frozen it into. Taking off her coat and hanging it over her arm, she crossed the foyer. Isabelle's house never failed to amaze her. It was an old converted church, complete with its own greenhouse and library. Isabelle and her older brother Alec never went up there- they both had allergies, but Clary had spent a fair amount of time sketching up there.
She pressed the button for the elevator and the telltale clatter reached her ears, echoing in the silent marble foyer.
As she latched the door behind her with a clang, she hoped to Rembrandt that Jace would be out today. She couldn't face him after what had happened.
It's not worth it. A voice whispered in the back of her mind. Why would you do that to someone over a photo? Who cares what everyone thinks?
Clary started fiddling with her bag straps, just to give her hands something to do. She liked to think that she didn't care what other people thought, but… it was hard not to. Still, she couldn't push away the thought that she should just tell Sebastian to stuff off.
After unlatching the door, she practically bolted to Isabelle's room, not even watching for anyone in the hallway. A second after she burst in, Isabelle glanced up. "Is someone chasing you, or something?"
Clary dumped her bag on the floor, shaking her head. "What if someone was? What would you do?"
She grinned, returning to her magazine. "Use my superior combat skills to beat the crap out of them, of course." She read a few more lines, and then snapped it shut, taking in Clary's clothes. "I knew this would happen."
She moved defensively, as if trying to hide from Isabelle. "What's wrong with them this time?" She demanded. She'd thought the annoying denim skirt would be enough to satisfy her fashion-conscious friend, but apparently not. The aforementioned friend had already leapt up to her wardrobe and was sorting through her smallest clothes. Since Clary wouldn't let her go shopping, this was the closest she got to playing Barbie doll with her.
"Try these on." Isabelle commanded, throwing some shiny pieces at her. "Then show me."
She sighed and stalked into the bathroom. Although she loved the way it looked, being Izzy's canvas was less than fun.
Shimmying into the scraps of material, Clary regarded herself in the mirror. Better than last time, but still uncomfortably revealing. She shuffled out of the bathroom. Izzy had changed at the same time, slipping into a strapless red top and a maxi skirt that flowed around her like a dark waterfall. She looked effortlessly striking, as always. "How come you get to wear something long?" Clary complained.
"Because if I put it on you, your legs would look shorter than usual, Stumpy. Chair." She pointed at the stool in front of her dresser, crowded with more shimmering glitters and tubes than Clary could name.
"That's right, Izzy, that is a chair." If Clary weren't so short she would have reached up and patted her head for effect.
A scowl marred her pretty face. "Sit, or else."
Clary gave a tiny groan and flopped down on the chair.
The torture was about to begin.
The sounds of the party reached their spindly limbs through the closed door, muffled but raucous. Clary slid down onto the cool floor by the sofa, mentally designing an artwork for the space across her. Something with muted colours, maybe. Or they could be as loud as the pulsing music pouring from the hidden speakers outside.
Loud colours, she decided. It would liven up the room with some much-needed attitude.
She kicked her shoes off. The heels on the boots were chunky, making it possible for Clary to walk… but they were still heels, making her feet sore. She'd argued that wearing her Skechers was edgy, but her arguments fell on deaf ears.
The door creaked and a wedge of light fell across Clary's face. As the door shut again, her night vision was gone and she waited impatiently for her eyes to readjust as she moved as quietly as she could out of sight. Her mind was going crazy with possibilities.
Clary forced herself to calm down. Maybe they just wanted some peace and quiet, too.
She peered out from behind the couch, feeling ridiculous. Catching a flash of gold, she pulled her head back in, panicking.
Jace.
The owner of the heart she was meant to destroy, Izzy's brother… and the boy she knew had feelings under the impenetrable façade.
She'd seen it for herself; the real Jace was more vulnerable than she ever would have imagined.
Clary sat back, breathing as deeply as she could to avoid thinking about the incident so many years ago.
"Clary?"
Her eyes flashed open, only to immediately squeeze them shut again. He had not found her sitting around the back of the couch like some creepy stalker.
"You know, the whole if I can't see you, you can't see me thing was disproved in about grade two." He sounded slightly entertained. "You may as well open your eyes."
Reluctantly, Clary peeled her eyelids open and got off the floor so Jace wasn't towering over her. Well, he was still towering over her, but not as much. "What are you doing in here?" She demanded.
The entertained look changed slightly, until she couldn't tell what his expression was anymore. "What, in my own living room?"
She didn't answer. The clouds had shifted, allowing moonlight to filter through the hazy curtains. His face was shadows and pale flashes of metallic colour, almost as if the soft light had consumed the shades of his face.
"What are you doing in here?"
Clary rolled her eyes and turned away, perching on the back of the lounge and looking at the blank wall. "I think you know the answer to that."
"Trying to get away?" He came and sat on the opposite end. She tried not to read too much into it, but she couldn't help but wonder-
"You draw, right?"
A flicker of shock flared in her chest. "Um, yeah. Why?"
He turned his gaze on her, unforgiving and somehow elusive. "Robert and Maryse are looking for a new piece for this room. They can't find someone with the right stuff."
"Are you…?" Clary trailed off, unsure of what she was trying to ask.
His voice softened almost imperceptibly. "If you want it, I can tell them about you." He dropped his voice so low Clary couldn't hear what he said next. "Not… don't already…"
"What was that?" She hesitated for a moment before adding, "And thanks. It means a lot."
Jace stood abruptly, walking towards the door without his normal fluidity, the only sign that something had unnerved him. But she had no idea what it could be. "I'll get Iz to fill you in."
The door to the living room slammed shut, cutting off her response.
What's wrong with Jace? Anyone who guesses can have a shout out at the top of the next chapter. There are two things, but if you get one, the shout out is still yours!
