The articles Clary is reading, the one that says it's from Wikipedia is from Wikipedia, the others I just made up. Just thought I should note that. ~Mermaid12108
I winced at the yelling voices coming through the door. I dug in the pocket of my sweater, happy and surprised that I found my i Phone, in all it's anime cased glory in the pocket. Unlocking the screen, I tapped the safari app and got on Google. I bit my lip and tapped my foot, but finally gave in. I typed 'Nephilim' into google search. In seconds, thousands of results popped up.
"The Nephilim were the offspring of the "sons of God" and the "daughters of men" according to Genesis 6:4; and giants who inhabited Canaan according to Numbers 13:33. A similar biblical Hebrew word with different vowel-sounds is used in Ezekiel 32:27 to refer to dead Philistine warriors." Wikipedia said.
"...In some legends known to be of Satan..."
"Those who posses the blood of both man and lord. These beings are immortal, and are in some case known to be dangerous to mankind..."
Then there were images, horrifying images of rivers of blood, ashes, fire, gold, wings, scars, smoldering skin, creatures that made a thin line of sweat run down my neck. I kept scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling...until one image stopped me.
The golden haired angel was keeled over, curly wisps of shiny, golden hair falling into his blazing golden eyes. His skin had a glowing white hue to it, and his fingers, the nails ripped and bloody, gripped loosely the ground beneath him. His wings were raised hish, ad they too were golden. A man who could only be described as the decil, with his chili pepper red skin and equally red horns, crouched beside him, a blazing sword eluminated with white fire inches from the mans throat. The angel had a look in his eyes that showed he didn't care if he got scewered by the sword. Go ahead, do it. The look said. I don't care. I'll never bow to you. The thing that disurbed me most about the picture was that the angel looked exactly like someone I knew. Even loved, maybe. I shook my head, hitting the lock button on my phone and standing up, sliding it back into my pocket. Slowly, I tiptoed to the door and pressed my ear against it.
"...Well, it worked, so I don't see the harm in it."
"You don't see the harm in it? Isabelle, you could've killed her."
"I understand that. But why is she so important?"
"She's Jocelyn's daughter."
There was a sharp intake of breath, and then, "Are we talking about the same Jocelyn here? Fairchild?"
"Yes."
"But-how? Legend says that she was killed, along with her children."
"Yes, but that is legend."
"I don't believe it. I want proof."
"You want proof. Well, sometimes we just have to believe."
"You sound like peter pan." Isabelle scoffed.
My knees felt weak. My mother. They knew my mother. I don't know how, or why, but I was connected to all of this somehow. Slowly, I peeled myself from the door and walked to my 'room.'
I walked in, shutting the door and grimacing and the ceiling. painted sky was supposed to be calming. I felt the exact opposite of calm right then. I shut and locked the bathroom door, grimacing yet again when I saw my reflection. My hair was gnarled and knotted, and my face was covered with blood, dirt and grime. There was a cut above my eyebrow, and my lip was split. There was dirt and blood under my nails, and I smelled like a wet dog. I wondered how anyone could've tolerated me all day. I wanted to puke just by looking at myself. I stripped of my clothes, and turned on the hot water and stepping in when it was warm enough. I scrubbed the dirt and blood off, scrubbing under my nails too. After everything was gone, I let the water dribble off of me, watching it go down the drain and wishing it would take my problems with it.
Jace P.O.V.
I walked into the room I had woken up in, collapsing on the bed and running a hand over my face. I peeled my shirt off and tossed it onto the nightstand, folded. Even though I was in a strange place, and a lot had happened in the last 48 hours, the urge to have everything clean and tidy hadn't left me. I kicked off my shoes and socks and got under the covers. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
Clary P.O.V.
I slowly made my was down the stairs, my hand sliding down the banister and my eyes roaming everywhere. "Mom?" I called. Then my eyes found her. She stood there, her tank top sand pajama bottoms stained with blood. "Mom!" I ran down and caught her in my arms just before she fell.
"Why?" She asked me.
"Why what?" I asked.
"Why didn't you save me? I blame you. I blame you for what he did to me, for my death. I BLAME YOU."
I bolted upright in the bed, my heart racing and my body sticky with sweat. No. No, it was just a dream. It wasn't my fault, what happened to my mother, it couldn't be-
But what if it was?
I forbid the thought as I kicked the sheets away from me and stood up. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I made my way down the hall and knocked softly on his door. "Jace?"
No answer.
I tried again, knocking softly. "Jace?"
No. This was wrong. I shouldn't be here. I should just-
The door opened. "Clary?" Jace asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand.
"I-I know it's late, and I shouldn't be here, I just, I'll leave, it-it was wrong of me to come here-"
Jace shook his head. "C'mere." He said sleepily, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and leading me into his room. He pulled the covers back and I snuggled up to his chest, glad when his arms came around to hold me tightly. He kissed my forehead. "It'll all be okay. Eventually, it will."
I knew that. I just wasn't so sure about what to expect along the way. But I just nodded. I needed to be here, needed to be wrapped up in his embrace. He was the only thing I was really sure about anymore, the only thing that kept me sane. "I love you." He murmured.
I didn't know what I was doing. This was a roller coaster ride, and I was just about to go on the drop. "I love you, too." I said.
There it was. That gut wrenching feeling. But I was okay with that. Because even though my mind wasn't sure, my heart was. My mind was starting to come to terms with it though. I was in love with the man sleeping next to me, his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. I guess that's why I feel asleep in his arms, feeling no sense of regret, no fear, only the feeling of being safe and secure. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but right then I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
