~ THEMESONGS ~

Come into My Head ~ Kimbra

.M.I.W.

10. Scared

I stepped out of one of the backdoors from the bar, my ears taking about as much as they could take of Eric's ridiculous lyrics. I remembered them from my first adventure to the Mortal Instruments. Apparently whoever came up with the quote that claims 'quantity produces quality' is a liar, or they've never met Eric. I'm personally going for the latter on that one.

It was raining outside, one lamp attached to the bar lit up the small car turnaround that was storing the employees' cars and Millennium Lint's van. Besides the pattering rain, there was a dead silence outside to greet me after the door clicked shut, which was somewhat welcome.

I pulled up the hood of my yellow North Face hoodie ('borrowed' from Isabelle) over my head as I stepped further out into the turnaround. When I dropped my hands, they brushed lightly against the hilts of my twin swords. They were put in a glamour so mundanes couldn't see them.

Just about at peace with the silence, a door slammed open behind me. I whipped around, automatically reaching for Sandalphon, my eyes narrowing.

Simon stumbled out from the backstage area, looking almost sick. But it was more than that. His flailing movements as he seemed to force himself to gain balance were chaotic, manic. His hair flew when his head jerked up to meet my eyes, exposing his Mark of Cain, as well as his eyes. They looked… electric, dynamic.

Simon suddenly looked more alive than I'd ever seen him. And that made me nervous.

"Madi!" He gasped.

"Yes, that's me." I said, my brows furrowing. "What's going on? Is there an attack –?"

He wasn't looking at me anymore. His eyes were everywhere, taking in everything, as if he'd never seen the outside world before. The rain was making quick work of soaking him through, but he didn't seem to care. He just stared at everything in a perpetual state of wonder. Was he on acid or something? I so didn't know how to deal with druggies! That made me freak out a bit more.

"Simon?" I asked. He wasn't paying attention to me anymore. I decided to walk forward, reaching out to grab his shoulders. "Simon!"

Simon's eyes focused on me once more. "What?" He demanded in a very un-Simon-like voice.

I narrowed my eyes –

"Is everything all right?"

Both Simon and I jumped (him more so than me), and I turned to look at a woman.

She was tall, dressed in a long black trench coat, and holding a yellow umbrella open over her head. Something about her struck a familiar chord in me, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Her jaw was set in a way I knew, the angles of her face, crimson lips also catching my attention. She had a savvy, amused smile on her face. Her hair was long and black.

I glanced at Simon to see him nod dumbly, while I decided to answer. "Yeah, we're good."

"Are you sure? He looks like he may have banged his head." She said, indicating the Mark on Simon's forehead. The way she did it, though, her concern… it was almost motherly. "That's a nasty bruise. Are you sure I can't call anyone for you?"

I stepped in front of Simon before she could make another move closer to him. "It's a tattoo." I told her stiffly. "We're good."

Her eyes flashed to me then, making me square my shoulders. The way she looked at me was unnerving, my stomach doing a nervous flip at her three-feet-away proximity. Like she was sizing me up. I curled my hands into fists, not understanding why I was suddenly so cagey.

"Okay, if you say so." The woman said, looking back at Simon, breaking the contact we shared. I let out a slow breath of relief, but watched her warily as she reached into her pocket to pull out a card. She held it out to Simon.

He seemed to shell-shocked to grab it, so I took it for him, glancing over the name. Satrina Kendall, Band Promoter. I narrowed my eyes, and shoved the card into Simon's hands.

"That's me." Satrina Kendall smiled. "I liked what you guys did in there. If you're interested in making it a little more big-time, give me a call."

With that, she began to walk away.

As soon as she rounded a corner and disappeared from sight, I literally snapped to attention. I felt like the whole universe suddenly crashed around me, and not in a healthy way. One that made me want to jump up and race after her like a cartoon character, pinwheeling legs and all.

"Do you know her?" Simon asked.

"No." I replied, still watching the direction where she'd left. "Why?"

"You guys looked related. Like she could be your mom or aunt or something –"

It all clicked then. The face, the lips, the smirk, the freaking way she looked at me. I smirked like that, I looked at people like that.

That was when I leapt up and tore after the woman, probably resembling the Roadrunner. Or Wile E. Coyote, in this case.

Semantics.

The point is, I ran after the bitch.

I ran down the turn the woman had taken, coming out to be on a busy sidewalk. I was immediately rewarded with someone running into me, and them yelling, "Watch it, kid!"

"Watch yourself, asshole!" I retorted, trying to push through the rest of the crowd, scanning every face for the woman's. Trying to find the yellow umbrella.

It wasn't in sight.

I kept getting pushed back by mundane pedestrians, being shouted at by annoyed New Yorkers trying to get out from the rain, until finally I was shoved back into the alley that I'd ran out of. The yellow umbrella was gone.

Anger welled up within me then, so much to the point that I wanted to punch something – scream. I didn't understand. This world was torturing me, it had to be.

I stomped my foot (that's right, like a stupid kid), only for it to land in a puddle and splash all over the legs of my jeans, the water soaking through the fabric.

That really only made everything worse.

With more force than I'm sure was necessary, I threw myself into a glamour and ran back to Simon. I swore I was going to grill that kid until the cows came home. And in Brooklyn, I'm quite positive that would take a while.

"I can't believe you, Simon." Someone was saying as I rounded the next corner to get back to the bar's car turn-around. "What were you thinking? How could you lie to us like that?"

Well, it seemed like someone had beaten me to the punch when it came to the grilling of a certain Jewish vampire.

"I didn't lie!" Simon protested. "We never said we were exclusive! Neither did we! And I know you were dating other people –"

Simon was busy gesturing to Isabelle, who had her arms folded across her chest, while looking at Maia, who had her hands on her hips and looked livid. Well, Isabelle did too. Great. I was interrupting a love triangle.

"Not people you know." Isabelle practically growled. "Not your friends. What if I was dating Eric?"

"Stunned, frankly." Simon replied. "Eric isn't really your type."

I put my hand over my face, pulling an affective face-palm. Way to go, smooth-talker Lewis.

"That's not the point, Simon." Maia said icily.

"I'm really sorry." Simon seemed sincere – sincerely afraid. He took a nervous step back, which I took as my cue to take a step forward. "I should have told you guys. It's just – I really like you both, and I didn't want to hurt either of your feelings."

Fuck.

All right, time for the Rogue to intervene. I was already walking towards them, hooking my thumbs in the pockets of my jeans.

"Wow," Simon sounded surprised, "I am a huge asshole."

"True say, good sir, true say." I answered, standing beside the vampire. Isabelle looked at me, seeming surprised, while Maia just glared. I was beginning to learn this was going to be a typical thing with us.

"Probably the first true thing he's said since I got here." Maia sniffed disdainfully.

"Amen," Isabelle agreed, "but I say it's too little, too late –"

"Right, so it's unanimous." I interrupted. "Now, maybe we could tone down the feelings of female rage? It's agreed we're all some kickass feminist women, but –"

The bar door that I had walked out of opened, and Kyle was walking out with Clair hard on his heels. I nodded to both of them politely just as Isabelle started talking again.

"But he won't expect us to talk to him any time soon." Isabelle answered. "Who's side are you on, Madi?"

"Well, yours, of course." I answered, slightly perplexed. Simon looked at me in horror. I shrugged at him. "I mean, in matters of the heart, I can't betray my gender. But –"

"But nothing. It's decided." Isabelle stated simply. "You and I are going to go back to the Institute so we can have a talk with Clary – a very, very serious talk about her choice of friends."

"Should I get ice cream?" I asked meekly.

Hey, don't judge me when it comes to Isabelle. She is scarier and more woman than I will ever be, and I am not ashamed to admit it. Her aura of 'queen bee' automatically makes me loyal wingman (or wingwoman) to her every whim. Any girl who can be a badass as well a pro at female life automatically has my respect.

"Kyle, Claire," Simon croaked, "Maureen, is she –"

But then Maia turned around. She turned quite a few shades paler, while Kyle's face was one of complete fear. I reached for my swords.

"Whoa," Isabelle said, "do you two know each other?"

"Jordan." Maia's breath of a whisper sang through the air, before she spun around fully and launched herself at him.

"Hold up!" I yelled as I flew forward as well, reaching out to grapple Maia's shoulders just as she was inches away from swiping Jordan's face with her claws. I tackled her down to the ground, hearing an unholy snarl break through her teeth which were looking more and more wolf-like before my eyes.

"Let go!" Maia roared, flipping over and pushing me off of her.

I flew and then stumbled back a few feet before regaining my bearings, just enough time for me to charge in front of a stunned Jordan. "Stop it!" I commanded, reaching for my swords as she came closer. "You're not thinking clearly!"

Maia's hand rose, now a giant paw with huge claws glinting underneath a streetlamp's orange glow.

She was going to kill me, which meant I would have to kill her if I didn't want to die.

Memories of Forks, Washington inexplicably flew through my head like a movie. I had gone into the book Eclipse (not one of my most exciting adventures, mind you), and killed a certain young vampire. Bree Tanner. Her horrified face, the blood pouring out of her neck where I had severed her neck…

I couldn't kill another innocent person.

This was how I was going to die.

"Madi!"

The demon was right.

Fwick!

Maia let out a sharp yelp of anger and pain, and my eyes widened when I saw a thin silvery chain wrapped around Maia's paw.

Then, with that same whip, the werewolf was jerked away and landing into Isabelle's ready arms. She held Maia back with her strength, glaring at Simon and Kyle. Maia let out another animalistic snarl, before it turned into sobbing.

I dropped like a stone, sitting dumbly on the ground, watching Maia as she cried, numb to everything. Claire dropped to my side, shaking my shoulder, trying to tell me something. I couldn't hear it above the rushing of blood in my ears, my heart pounding frantically in my chest.

To be perfectly honest, it's difficult for me to be as scared as I was then. Sure, I get scared. I'm scared of spiders, scared that when I pull out my swords I'll clip my wrists on accident, scared of Belial, scared for my future. But like a type of "I'm so flipped that I can't go on" scared? Trust me, it does not happen that much.

I could have died tonight. That prophecy could have come true. But, then again, Jace wasn't here. Jace had to be here in order for me to apparently 'die in his arms'. Or I could have died slowly…

"Get out of here!" Isabelle's voice suddenly rang out. "And take him with you. I don't know what he did to her, but it must have been pretty bad."

Simon had pulled Kyle away with him, and the two disappeared through the door of the bar.

.M.I.W.