Yeah, I think you can pretty much give up on City of Resentful Angels. Sorry… :(
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Boyfriend. The word felt foreign and strange on the tip of Jace's tongue. But undeniably, and on more than one occasion, he had referred to himself and Clary as being in a relationship. Multiple people had heard him – the old bag of a landlady, the pharmacist at the supermarket, and now Isabelle. The number was rapidly growing, he thought with amusement.
The more he thought about it, the less apprehensive he was becoming. He kind of like it, in fact, the thought that was always in the back of his mind now, the image of Clary and Jace walking Broadway (or any street that would aptly cater to the cheesy fantasy in his head), hand in hand, while Matthew sat on his shoulders or tugged on Clary's fingers while he begged to see something in one of the windows of the shops, the glass fogging under his breath while Jace studied Clary's smile in the reflection.
The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile as Jace smiled. He quietly let himself back in Clary's apartment, closing the door silently behind him. Turning around, he saw that Clary was still soundly asleep on the couch, and though he ached to, Jace knew that he didn't have to time to go back and snuggle with her. He had his last final today. Never had he been so thankful for the month of May. Though Jace for the most part loved learning and school (it was easy for him, what wasn't to like?), his classes had taken up his Clary time. He'd been forced to squeeze her in over the last few weeks. Then with a start, he realized that he had known Clary for a little under two months. His court hearing had been March 31st, just after March Madness, The Little League practices had begun in the second week of April, and that's when he met Matthew, and by extension, Clary.
And now they were together. Well, he assumed. He had never actually asked her if they were an item, but something told him that she wouldn't turn him down. No girl ever had. Still, it was probably pretty important.
Jace glanced over at the clock again and winced at the time. He would have to hurry to school if he didn't want the professor to turn him away. Hastily, he scrawled a note using the paper from the phone desk. Grabbing a piece of Scotch tape from the dispenser, he attached it to her forehead. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, she certainly wouldn't miss it now. He traced the apple of her cheek with his long fingers and disappeared from the apartment.
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When Clary woke up, she smiled; she could feel the entity behind her, soft and warm, yet firm. She rolled over, smiled, opened her eyes and came face to face with the couch. Her clip curled as she deflated, severely disappointed by the lack of Jace. Altogether too slowly, she became aware of something attached to her face.
Dear Clary:
Sorry to disappear again. I have to go take my final final. After that, I'm all yours. Call me.
Jace
Jace's rushed letters were blocky and long, full of contradictions, just like him. Clary thought of that stupid commercial on the television for a candy that was both chewy and solid. Ridiculous. She felt a twinge of guilt building in her heart; Clary hoped Jace had studied before the finals. She didn't know what that was like, never completing freshman year of high school and all that, but in all the movies and television shows, studying for finals was a fairly big deal.
Stretching up and away from the couch brought a groan to her lips. Rubbing her palms over her still-heavy eyes, she stood, urging herself to get up and make coffee. Idly as she measured the grounds, she wondered how Matthew would feel today. It was nine o'clock and he wasn't awake yet, and she didn't know if that was a good or bad sign. Usually, her son up at seven sharp, and she thanked whoever was listening that he had decided to stay in bed and get some rest when his body needed it.
While the coffee was percolating, she stripped herself of yesterday's clothes and stepped into the shower for a few moments, the warm water and grapefruit body wash coaxing her sluggish body awake. Stepping out, she toweled off and peered at her naked body in the mirror. Sort of scrawny, the stretch marks from her pregnancy nearly gone, flat stomach, skinny legs. Green eyes, red hair, freckles covering her face and shoulders. She shook her head at her vanity and stepped into the clothes she had set out.
When Clary cracked the door opened, steam escaping everywhere, the smell of fresh coffee slipped into the bathroom and tickled her taste buds. She inhaled deeply, eyes drifting closed in pleasure.
First thing was first though; she had to check on Matthew. Cracking his door open, Clary peeked in and saw that was at least still breathing. Moving into the room more completely, she took his temperature using the back of her wrist. He was still hot. Clary smoothed his ruffled hair down, smiling at her sleeping son. He did not rouse though, and she let him continue in his dreams.
Of course, after settling down at the table with a cup of coffee and the morning paper, there was a knock at the door. She called out for the guest to be patient; she was coming, and stood, her still damp hair swaying as she walked to the door. Immediately after opening it, Clary found herself pushed off to the side as Madame Dorothea entered her apartment, quickly making herself comfortable at Clary's table. When Dorothea caught Clary looking at her, she barked orders to put a kettle on for tea.
"Here, I have some coffee already made," Clary managed to get out past her shock and quickly moved to get the older woman a cup.
"If I wanted coffee, I would have instructed you to make coffee. I want tea. Get to it." The woman waved her hand dismissively as Clary bit her tongue to keep from snapping. Rolling her eyes, Clary pulled the tea kettle out of the bottom cupboard and filled it with water from the tap.
"Sit down as the water boils; I need to speak with you, Clarissa." Aside from her mother, Dorothea was the only one who called her "Clarissa." Clary sat at the chair opposite of the landlady, suddenly very conscious of the squeaking wood as her featherweight settled into it.
"I have been noticing that boy of yours growing recently," started Dorothea.
Oh, great. She's going to kick us out because Mattie's growing. Great. That's gonna be interesting to explain. We got kicked out of our last apartment because my son started growing.
"And it's clear to me that you need more space." The thick Brooklyn accent in the woman's gravelly did little to comfort Clary. "Seeing as such, I'm going to do you a favor. You can move to a different apartment."
Clary, flabbergasted, replied, "But I can't really afford that… Remember? We discussed me taking the bigger apartment, but you, I mean I," Clary hastily changed what she was about to say when she caught Madame Dorothea raising her eyebrows, "didn't have the cash for it. Nothing's really changed. So thank you, but I'm sorry, I can't."
Dorothea shook her head impatiently as the tea kettle began to sing, a shrill whistle that Clary was unaccustomed to in her apartment. Neither Clary nor Matthew drank tea very much. "You're not understanding me. I'm giving you that apartment for the same rate. It's not right for the boy to be cooped up in three rooms all the time. Heaven only knows what would become of him after he really starts to grow." Her arms were above her head in frustration. "Get that tea kettle," she snapped, "It's giving me a head ache."
Clary jumped up at once and poured the boiling water into a chipped, dark blue mug, adding an herbal tea with a strong, heady flavor to it. Ordinarily, Clary would have asked for a preference from the old woman, but she knew that Dorothea liked this, since a box of it had magically appeared on her doorstep with a note attached that said, "Your coffee is stinking up the place. Try this instead." She had indeed tried it, gagged on the first taste, and dumped the rest down the drain.
"Thank you so much, ma'am. Really, thank you so much. I appreciate it so much. I'll move in as soon as Matthew is feeling better." Clary practically tripped over herself as she thanked her landlady. She offered sugar, but the woman waved it away in disdain.
"Your lease will cover this apartment as well. When you get a real job we'll talk about changing the rent. Don't make me regret it." She stood and took the cup with her, but Clary couldn't bring herself to care. The only unoccupied apartment in the building had six rooms, and was an entire floor. The apartment, much like many of the others in Brooklyn, was at one time a single family residence. Clary had taken up residence in three rooms on the second floor; her neighbors were Armenian immigrants. On the first floor lived Madame Dorothea and an older couple that sent Clary baked goods to give to Matthew. The third floor, however, was a single apartment with two bedrooms, a full kitchen with a dinette, a bathroom, a living room and a study.
In the back of her mind, alarm bells were going off. It was not like Dorothea, a normally shrewd and heartless woman to offer something like this.
Clary chose not to question it though, and smiled again to herself, trying to refrain from shrieking in her utmost joy.
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"Oh, pick up the damn phone, Jace." Isabelle snapped into the receiver. Finally, after eight long rings, Jace's voice snarked a greeting in Isabelle's ear.
"Finally. What took you so long?"
"Careful, Isabelle. It was I who initiated this conversation and it is I who can end it." Jace's voice dripped vinegar.
"Oh, grow up. Now, who is this girl, and why am I babysitting her son on a perfectly viable evening that could be much better spent partying?" Isabelle rapped out, her anger getting the best of her.
Jace froze on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Isabelle thought he may have hung up; pulling the phone away from her ear, she checked the screen to make sure that the call was still connected. It was. "I'm waiting." She demanded.
"Yeah. Matthew is one of the kids on the Little League team I got assigned to assistant coach for that freaking community service thing." Isabelle could practically hear him rubbing the back of his neck in an effort to evade her.
"Not good enough. That doesn't explain why I had to babysit him."
"I'm kind of seeing his mom. There, happy?" Jace barked.
"You're kidding?" Isabelle was dumbfounded, flabbergasted even. "How old is she? Is she, like, some kind of cougar? What the hell are you thinking? You're throwing your life away on a kid that isn't even yours?"
Isabelle prattled on, demanding answers from him in an accusatory tone, but Jace was too stuck on her last statement to pay attention to the rest of anything she said.
Throwing his life away? Was she kidding? In the past few weeks, Jace, by the normal standards of society, was a model citizen. He was giving back to his community (albeit, it was court mandated), he hadn't gotten drunk after his first date with Clary, hadn't got in any fights, hadn't had any late nights roaming the streets of Manhattan, looking for a good club.
"Isabelle Lightwood, just shut up. You have no idea what you're talking about." Jace's forefinger and thumb pinched the bridge of his nose tightly as Izzy sputtered on the other end of the line. He'd just finished a particularly difficult final and all he wanted was a very strong cup of coffee and to go see Clary and Matthew, but instead he was listening to his faux sister prattle. "She is not a waste of time, and as usual, you are just spewing the first random crap that comes to your mind. Goodbye." Isabelle's eyes bugged wide when she heard the disconnecting click.
Jace just hung up on her.
Nobody hung up on Isabelle Lightwood.
She dialed Jace's number again, but after one ring, it went straight to voicemail. Now she was pissed. Isabelle left a nice little message to alert him to that fact.
She sat back against the leather seat in her living room with a huff. Why couldn't Jace just see that this was not a good idea?
I mean, don't get her wrong. The kid was cute. Very sweet. In fact, if she ever had kids, she pretty much wanted them to act like Matthew. He kind of reminded her of Max, her younger brother that had been killed in a car accident.
"Isabelle is a pretty name."
Isabelle looked up from her nails.
"What?" She snapped, but the kid didn't look up from his coloring.
"I said that Isabelle is a pretty name. I like it."
"Oh. Thank you. What's your name again?"
"Matthew James Fray. Age five." With that, he looked up and smiled proudly.
Isabelle smiled a little. "Well, Matthew James Fray, age five, what are you coloring?"
He smiled even bigger and lifted the paper to show her a surprisingly good (for his age) portrait of a baseball diamond.
With a snap, Isabelle came back to the present.
Well, whatever. If Jace wanted to ruin his life, he could.
Though, try as she might, she could not quite ignore the nagging voice deep in her mind that said maybe, just maybe, this would be a good thing. She hadn't gotten any late night calls to pick a drunken Jace up at a bar. He hadn't been in any fights.
Okay, maybe this wasn't the worst thing in the world.
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Jace sighed angrily as he looked back down at his phone. You would think that after ignoring three phone calls from her, Isabelle would take a hint. Without looking at the caller ID, he accepted the call and yelled into the receiver, "What?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line before a timid, "Is something wrong?"
Damn. It was Clary.
"No, no, no. I'm sorry, I thought you were Isabelle. She's been dogging me since I turned my phone on." He closed his eyes and listened to the small sigh of relief through the phone. "What's up?"
"Well, I have exciting news." Clary's voice was sing-songy with enthusiasm.
"Oh yeah?" Jace smiled. He knew what was coming.
"Dorothea offered me a bigger apartment for the same rent. I'm moving! Well, as soon as Matthew feels better. And I have to get some new stuff. And – oh, wait. How was your final?"
Jace chuckled once. She was cute, going a million miles an hour, on one topic then the next.
"My final was fine, Babe. You want some help moving?"
"Just fine? How do you think you did? I've never taken one, so I have no comparison or point of reference. Come on," she fake whined, "Fill me in!"
Jace laughed at this. "I don't know what you want me to tell you. It was just a final."
"Well, you're no help." He could practically hear her pouting through the phone.
"So, about that offer to help you move…" He trailed off, trying to distract her.
She sighed again; Jace was determined not to let her get her way. "Yes, that would be appreciated. Thank you."
"You're welcome." Jace, at this point, was just relieved that she wasn't badgering him about finals anymore. Thankfully, that was his last one, and Clary didn't know about the other ones. She would beat that topic until dead and pulverized to dust. "What else do you need to get?"
"I'm not telling you. You'll just go out and buy it." Oh, she was a snarky one. But Clary was absolutely right. He would have.
"Very funny."
"It's true." She quipped.
"I know it's true." Jace made a face at his phone while he said it, not even feeling foolish about it. "You up for a visitor?"
"Ooh, yes please. Matthew's feeling much better now that he's had antibiotics in him for a while. He's throwing an absolute fit about missing baseball, so I think a distraction would be welcome."
"Alright. I stop at my apartment, so I'll be over after that. I'm here now, so maybe, like, half hour? Forty five?" Jace inserted his key, turned it and twisted the knob. He started when he saw Alec sitting behind the door, waiting for him with arms crossed and narrowed eyes.
"Jeez!" Jace raised his voice.
"What?" Clary sounded alarmed, frantic even.
"Nothing. My freaky roommate just scared the hell out of me. Like a freaking stalker." Jace directed the last quip at Alec, lifting his mouth away from the phone.
"Hang up the phone, Jace. We need to talk." Alec sounded pissed, grinding words out from his teeth.
Jace quirked an eyebrow up, but acquiesced. "Clary, I'll see you soon. Alec needs to speak with me, apparently."
"Okay. Call me when you leave."
"Yep. Bye."
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So, chapter nine is up. What did you think?
Here is my story recommendation: Treasure by SaturnXK. It's an Infernal Devices one shot, and it's about how Jem's parents died. : (
Thanks for reading!
