Happy Saturday! Ah, I live for the weekends.
"Luke?" I blindly run my hand along the wall to my right, trying to find the light switch.
"Here," Indie murmurs, thrusting a hard, cool rock into my hand.
"What is it?"
"Witchlight. Every Shadowhunter has one. That one was Lucian's." Indie pauses. "It doesn't work when I hold it, though."
"Give it here," Magnus takes the smooth rock from my hand and holds it up into the darkness. Almost instantly, a brilliant scarlet light breaks through the darkness revealing the state of Luke's living room.
The many book shelves that line the walls are on the floor; books scattered everywhere. The couch and chairs are torn with huge gashes ripped down the backs. There is glass smashed on the floor that shimmers like rubies in the red witchlight.
"Luke?" I whisper, my voice breaking with anxiety. "Luke!" I cry and a hand clamps tightly over my mouth.
"Clary, be quiet," Indie commands, reprovingly. "They might still be here."
"Who?" I mumble into her hand. She removes it slowly, frowning.
"Whoever's done this." Magnus gestures to the wrecked room and leads the way into the kitchen.
The house is completely empty. No sign of Luke or the people who've trashed his house anywhere. Not in the living room. Not in the kitchen. Not in the bathroom. Not in the bedrooms. Nowhere.
"Maybe he's in his bookstore," I suggest and so we walk down Luke's driveway towards his store; entering quietly. Voices fill the dark, eerie building; passing down through the ceiling. I point upwards and Indie and Magnus nod in understanding.
"I'll go first," Magnus whispers before leading the way up the creaking stairs.
Upstairs is where Luke keeps all books that he keeps for himself and me. When he brings in new orders or donations, he sorts through every one, leaving out ones which he thinks I will enjoy. I've probably read more books than every person my age in New York. You name it, I've probably read it.
Shelves of books line the walls; cardboard boxes are scattered about the floor with books spilling over the tops. The voices grow louder, clearer too.
"Come on, Lucian. We haven't got all day," A raspy, thick voice drawls. My hand grips around the hilt of my blade, strapped to my hip.
"Where is the cup, Lucian?" Another similar voice adds.
"It's the Pangborn brothers," Indie whispers next to me.
"Who?" Indie shakes her head.
"I'll tell you later."
"I told you, I don't know," Luke's deep, calm tone replies. His voice wavers slightly though, as if he's choked or in pain. My heart wrenches. I can't lose another parent. Luke's the only one I have left.
"Magnus," I plead. "Please. You have to help him." Magnus looks back at me.
"Seriously, Clary?" I nod, fervently. "You're seriously asking me to save a werewolf?"
"Yes, I am." Magnus pauses, as if to check for certain I'm not joking, then sighs.
"The things I do," He murmurs under his breath. "You owe me big, Clary."
"You took away my memories," I say, "I don't owe you anything."
Magnus looks pained for a moment before pushing up his dark sleeves and disappearing around the corner of a tall bookshelf in a swish of black cloak.
Indie grabs my arm. "We need to go."
"Why? We need to wait for –"She shakes her head.
"There are werewolves, Shadowhunters and warlocks in this room; I don't want to be here when they come face to face. Too much drama for me. Too much drama for an untrained Shadowhunter." It seems strange to think that's what I am: a Shadowhunter.
"But-"
"Clary, trust me on this. Do as you're told for once." For the first time, Indie looks threatening. I nod silently, and follow her out of the door.
When we reach the staircase, a loud cry pierces the air.
"Luke," I whisper, turning back towards the room. "LUKE!"
"CLARY, NO!" Indie calls after me as I retreat back into the room. Panic building, I sprint round the book shelves and head towards the sound of the cry. I chance a glance down each aisle, seeing nothing but towers of books, until the sixth aisle where four figures are standing in the shadows. Bright blue light fills the air as one person is pinned up against the book shelf; their groans and cries echoing through the air.
"LUKE!" Luke's limp form is planted on the floor, stirring slightly as I run over to him. "Can you hear me? Luke, it's me, Clary. Please wake up." I shake his shoulders lightly and his eyes shoot open.
"Clary?" He sits up and I can see blood dripping down from his temple. He sways slightly. "What are you doing here?"
"Don't worry about that now," I say, pulling my blade out of its sheath. "Excuse me a second."
Magnus has one man pinned up against the shelves; his arm locked over the man's neck, holding him there. The man's face is turning a strange blue colour and his dark eyes bulge slightly. Knowing Magnus is fully under control, I turn to the other man who's leaning up against the shelf opposite; his breathing coming in quick gasps and his hands clamped tight over his hip. A dark red liquid paints his hands and I lower my blade.
"Clarissa," He growls. "You look so like your mother."
"Where is she?" I say through clenched teeth. "You took her." A bitter laugh escapes his lips and he throws his head back in mirth.
"Well done. Yes, we took her."
"Where? Why?" He raises his eyebrows.
"You think I would tell you where she is?" My green eyes blaze with fury. "She took something that belonged to your father. He wanted it back."
"He is not my father." I spit.
"You should show him some respect."
"Respect? How can I give the person who killed someone as close to me as a brother, respect? I don't care who he is. He killed a member of my family." I clutch my blade tighter.
"There will be many more now you're back in this world. You bring the danger to people. Everyone you meet is at risk." His eyes flicker to a spot above my shoulder but I resist the urge to turn my back on him and look.
"CLARY!" Luke yells from behind me. "Clary, look out!" I whip around, my blade whistling as it cuts diagonally down through the air. It cuts through the man's flesh like a knife through butter with the sickening sound of cutting paper with the sharpest pair of scissors ever.
"You little-"He curses. I can see a strip of red begin to spread over his grey shirt just below his ribcage.
"CLARY!" I turn around just in time to see the man who I had previously talked to, his sword raised high above his head. It soars down toward me but I block it with my blade, the chink of metal on metal. Locked in a fierce dual, I don't notice the other brother picking up his discarded blade and advancing on the fight with a look of contempt.
The first brother jabs his sword towards my abdomen and I jump back to dodge it, almost tripping over Magnus' unconscious form. The second takes a swing at my neck but it's feeble. I throw a kick at his stomach and he grunts, winded. He doubles over and his sword begins to slip from his hand, so I grab the hilt of his sword and tug it from his hold. I turn the sword over, holding it by the blade, and jab the metal handle hard into the man's temple. He falls to the ground, unconscious.
"CLA-" But it's too late this time. The first brother grabs me around the shoulders and places his sword in front of my neck. The cool, sharp blade digs into my neck and I refrain from yelping in pain. Our heavy breathing is the only sound in the room; the man trying to catch his breath for a moment. I look at the position I'm in from a different point of view; as if I was on the other side of the room.
I'm small. I only come up to his shoulder and my arms are locked against my sides, my sword limp by my side. I have no real advantage over this man in the position I'm in. I need to get out of his hold. If I was more experienced, I would know how to get out of this. But I don't. The demon was just improvisation; it had been the thickest thing I had ever seen, almost killing itself with its own tail. Was this man as dim-witted as the demon I had faced?
"Please," I wail and shy away from the blade. "Please, don't kill me." The man chuckles bitterly.
"What is this? Clarissa Morgenstern pleading? Never thought I'd see the day." My hands shake with anger but I try to pass it off as terror.
"I'm not Clarissa Morgenstern. I'm Clary Fray and I never even wanted any of this. I just want my mother to be safe so I can go home." My voice trembles.
"What about my brother? You could have killed him!"
"I may be untrained, but I know that wasn't a fatal blow. It's only above his navel. Look," I thrust my chin towards where his brother lies, slumped on the ground. His eyes flicker to his brother but his hold is unyielding.
"CLARY!" Indie cries from behind us. I'd forgotten she hadn't followed me immediately. Pangborn – surprised - loosens his hold enough for me to free my arms.
"Gahh," Pangborn doubles over in pain and I rub my sore elbow from jabbing him in the abdomen. I'm about to advance on him, to knock him out like his brother, but Magnus appears; red sparks flying from his palms. Pangborn collapses to the ground in a heap.
All is quiet for a moment; my heavy breathing filling the silent aisle. Until...
"Where have you been, Clary?" Luke asks, struggling to pull himself up from the floor. Indie rushes forward to help him up but he shakes her off impatiently. "Jocelyn calls me saying that you'd left and that the trip was off. And then I hear from Indie that you had run off to try and save her. Do have any idea of the danger you put yourself in? Do you know what could have hap-?" But Luke is cut off when I throw my arms around his neck. His come tightly around my waist and he buries his face in my hair, his shoulders shaking slightly. It's only after a moment when I realise Luke's crying. My own tears fall down my cheeks, leaving tracks in the dirt that is plastered to my skin.
"We'll get her back, Clare-Bear. I promise." Luke hasn't called me 'Clare-Bear' since I was... twelve; just before Max died. I remember it clearly now. It was late summer, and I couldn't get to sleep because my mom had given me my first rune and I was in pain. Luke had sat up with me late into the night, watching Harry Potter until I fell asleep, nestled into his side. Luke had carried me upstairs, tucking me into my bed, kissing my forehead and whispering: "Night, Clare-Bear." The nickname had been lost since coming to New York, along with my memories.
"We need to leave," Magnus says and aims a kick at one of the brother's sides. "Before any more of them follow." Luke nods, pulling back and wiping his eyes under his glasses.
"Where are we going?" Indie pipes up. "Back to yours?" Magnus doesn't answer but looks at me calmly.
"Clary?" Luke asks, looking between me and Magnus with confusing.
"The Institute," I say. A horrible sense of nervousness rushes through my veins and I take a deep breath. "I need to see the Lightwoods."