Chapter 7- Is Jace in over his head with this one? The pressure is building and time is ticking, how long will it be before everyone else gets involved? Thank you again to everyone that reads, reviews and adds me to 'Favourites'! You guys are amazing =]
Jace Wayland was a man on the edge. His usually calm and collected frame twitched every so often unintentionally due to the many gallons of caffeine he had consumed- the Nephilim had managed to get his hands on an anti-sleep potion from a witch in an herbal remedies outlet but that was three days ago and he had not been fortunate enough to get a refill. The Shadowhunter was nearing the end of his tether and had gone so far as to give himself a deadline- one more day. If he was not successful in his mission to find Clary by tomorrow he would have no choice but to enlist the help of others.
While his piercing golden eyes held firmly onto their determination, they had lost their usual gleam. His hair was no longer stylishly mussed-up, it was dishevelled and messy. And despite the scars littered around his body- it was the purple bruises beneath his lifeless, squinting, golden orbs that seemed to weigh him down the most. Worry marred the generally unlined face of handsome angular features. So clear was his sense of mission, that people hastily dodged out of his way rather then cross his path- for surely a man this hardened and overwrought would plough through them instead of taking the time to effectively manoeuvre around trivial obstacles such as bystanders.
Jace truly was a man on the edge.
Now that Jace's self-predetermined time was running out quickly, he was even more motivated and jumpy. He currently had a demon thrust up against an underground sewer wall, held by his bunched hoodie. It was a habit that he repeated numerous times in the last few days- yet it had still had to actually produce any positive results. Growling at the people suspended above him, had also become routine.
"Tell me what you have heard?" he hissed.
"Nothing," croaked the demon through his pierced lips. He resembled a gulping fish out of water- complete with hooks wedged in his mouth and all. "I never heard of her. The name never-"
"Don't lie to me," Jace reinforced his point by hitting the demon against the hard wall once more. "Clarissa Fray- tell me what is being said in your scum-filled circles about her."
He gasped through metal adorned lips and shook his head quickly.
"Do not mess with me," the avenging angel threatened menacingly. "One last chance- Clarissa Fray. Clarissa Morgenstern. Tell me right this instant or I will deliver you to the fiery pits you hailed from."
The young demon continued to writhe against his captor like a floundering fish hanging from a line. "Nothing. I know not the names! I swear it-"
With a canine growl of fury and frustration Jace pulled out a dagger. To the fiery pit's the creature had come, and to the fiery pits he would return. 'Demons,' he thought with disgust, wiping his blade on the inside of his jacket before re-sheathing it and striding purposefully out of the rotten sewers. Time was ticking past and Jace did not want to fail this mission. He couldn't fail, not this time- the stakes were entirely too high.
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Simon was talking to his sister Rebecca on the phone when his doorbell rang through the house with a shrill note of irritancy. Telling Rebecca that he would call her back later, Simon padded gracefully to the doorway and turned the lock. He could only hope that it wasn't the golden eyed Shadowhunter on another random rampage.
There was nobody there, just a simple piece of paper discarded on the floor. In elegant, cursive script were the words:
If I were you I would pay a visit to Dumort as soon as possible. It really is quite urgent.
- Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn
Closing the door behind him, Simon had to question all the excitement going on in the lives of Downworlders these days. Or perhaps he was just new to all this, if so he wondered how he had ever been able to survive on the monotony of Mundie existence. Probably because he had Clary, the wonderful girl that he had loved for most of his life. The girl that was suddenly taking to ignoring all his calls and text messages. He had decided to give her some space, but that didn't mean he was happy about it.
The dusty shadows of Dumort were more prominent when Simon could see them in daylight. It was the only advantage he had over his contemporaries. Creaking up the stairs, the vampire made his way to Raphael's room.
"Simon," came the accented drawl. "I know you are relatively new to this and I know that you may be a 'Daylighter' as we so fittingly named you- but I for one am still nocturnal. And that means that I sleep⦠right about now."
"I got a message from Magnus B-"
"Ah yes, I knew there was something I needed to discuss with you. It concerns the Morgenstern child."
Simon's interest picked up tenfold and his ears pricked, he could feel his chest tightening. "Which one?"
"Ah, good point. Both actually, but mainly that fiery female you tend to mix with."
"What is going on, Raphael? Is Clary alright?" Fear and worry began to constrict his throat and he pursed his lips tight. Simon knew nothing good could come from Shadowhunting- now that he was a Downworlder he found it much easier to dislike Jace and his Nephilim ways. Not Clary though- she was an exception. And Isabelle⦠maybe there were a few exceptions.
"That would appear to be the problem," Raphael said smoothly as a strand of ink black hair swished across his face. "No one knows how the girl is, for no one knows where the girl is. It would seem that she is missing."
Simon swore.
