CHAPTER 9.
As a rule, silence is an assassin's best friend. We work in it, breath it and learn to revel in it. All through my training I learnt how to do things silently, with no one noticing, no one knowing and therefore: No one caring.
This was fine until now. Now I hate the silence, I hate it. I feel ready to scream, but I won't. I'm too ashamed. He asked for the truth, I told him everything. Everything. I'm starting to wonder if he'll ever speak again.
He was silent through the entire process and now the silence has remained. I stare down at my converse as if they are the most interesting thing I have ever laid eyes on.
"You should've know this would be his reaction," whispered a voice in my head, I stared even more intently at my shoes analysing the marks on the white parts. "You're a monster… no one could ever love you." I try to reject the thought, but it stays nagging at me. Tearing at my mind until I can't take it; tears leak from my eyes. I can't wipe them without him noticing so I let my hair down, the wind blows it across my face blocking the traitorous tears.
Maybe it's something about Idris, I wonder why they even put me on this mission. Other kids might go to Germany, Australia, and France. But I get the hardest mission; I get the mission where my emotions can betray me. I guess Valentine thought he had me completely converted. Hell I thought I was completely converted. But it takes one emotion to rip me from the docks of that world; yet the only problem is: I didn't get attached to a new one, so now I float and drift and touch shores before being pulled violently away.
The tears are small but steady, I don't make a sound; I don't want him to feel sorry for me.
"Clary?" he sounds worried. Maybe my tears weren't so well hidden.
"Yes," I say, still staring at the ground and acting like nothing's wrong. I'm a good actor, I've been acting all my life. The Institute is equivalent to some of the best acting schools in the country; It forces everyone to act invulnerable. Hard. Cold. Emotionless. No wonder the best assassins in the world originate at the Institute; they train us to be robots, cold hearted killing machines.
"Who are you?" That makes me glance up, tears forgotten.
"Who am I?" I ask almost to myself. "I don't know…" My eyes glaze over and my thoughts reel. Who am I? Such a simple question, hundreds of thoughts come into my head. Except, I'm standing in the middle of a whirlpool watching answers swirl past, I can't catch them, yet they whisper to me.
Monster…
Murderer…
Cold…
Lethal…
Really, it's the perfect combination. The attitude of the best assassin is always the same: Un-caring; we have to be able to kill anyone: A friend, a brother, a boyfriend. If one doesn't care at all, they could do anything. Anything that's considered 'evil' that is.
"When you figure it out, tell me," Jace stands, red streaks of hair obscure his sculptured features. Not that that would matter as the tears blur them anyway.
He turns to go, part of me thinks it's for the best. I'd only end up hurting him… but then again. I don't think it's possible to watch someone walk away without doing anything about it. Especially when the ache in your heart threatens to leave a gaping hole in your body.
"Didn't I just tell you who I am?" I try again, my voice carrying frailly over the wind.
He stops. "No," he says simply, as if that explains everything.
"Then what do you want from me?" I shout desperately as small drops of rain begin to fall from the dark storm clouds overhead.
He turns and slowly walks towards me, "You told me what happened to you," he says approaching me. I shiver from the unseasonably cold air and wrap my arms around myself. The rain gets heavier. "I want to know who you are because of it," he looks frustrated.
I get up from the swing, and blow out a breath. "I am cold." I say and force myself to continue, "I'm heartless, I've beaten people to within an inch of their life and I didn't care. I've spent my life wanting to be the best, and I didn't care what at. So when the opportunity rose to be the best at something I took it. I didn't care that I would have to kill people in order to reach that goal. I didn't care that that goal was being the best murderer. I was happy in that life. Then…" I trail off. Now I get into more dangerous material; now I've reached the edge of the cliff and I have two options: Jump (make him hate me, and run away) or take a step backwards (explain the next part). The only danger is if I step back someone can always push me off the edge and then I can't avoid the rocks at the bottom.
"Then…?" he prompts. What the hell, I think and decide to step back.
"Then, I met you. Any you were- Amazing. You were just amazing and I could help but think about you. I wasn't faking it in the gym before. When I'm near you, the world spins and I become a babbling idiot. When I'm with you, I become someone I want to be. When I'm with you, I forget everything. There's only you. You. Are. The best. Thing. That has. Ever happened . To me."
His eyes burn into mine and we stand there for a few momently. Me: breathing heavily. Him: cool and unaffected.
"What about Jonathon?" he says coldly and I wince at the reminder.
"I thought I knew what love was, I thought I had it with Jon. I was wrong. Jon and I were never going to last, he's too cold. I only realised that when I met you, Jace I know how you must be disgusted by me, and I agree there are some things that are unlovable. But, even the unlovable can start to fall for someone… someone far too goo-" his lips cut me off in a hard kiss; my fingers wind themselves in his hair. And he pulls me tightly against him.
"Never say that you are unlovable," he says roughly when we part his forehead resting on mine, "never say you aren't good enough for anyone, least of all me. Don't you get it?" I stare at him confusedly and wait for him to continue, "I don't care about your past, I care about who you are now." His beautiful eyes hold mine.
"You should," I whisper my gaze dropping to the ground, "I'm not good…"
"I know I should. I should care that you have a boyfriend, I should care that you've killed people. I should care… but I don't. All I care about is you, and how it kills me when I have to walk away. And how even though you are the daughter of the leader of our enemy organisation and I'm the grandson of the leader of yours, I'm still falling for you."
My eyes fill rapidly and as he gently tilts my head up and looks studies my face. He kisses once gently on the lips before pressing his mouth to my forehead and hugging me tightly against him.
"Jace, I think I'm falling in love with you," I mumble into his chest.
He chuckles, "Don't worry, I falling right with you," I giggle at his cheesiness and pretty soon we are both laughing, hard and loud. We sink to the ground as the rain gets even heavier soaking us and keep laughing. An old lady dragging a young boy through the rain stares at us with suspicion before tugging on the poor boy's arm causing him to almost trip in a puddle. Needless to say this only makes us laugh harder.
I had forgotten how barren Idris was. It wasn't until driving through the country side (90% of Idris) that I truly realised how far away we were from everything. I had no idea where we were driving all I know is that I was going to get my knife back.
Jace's car wasn't as nice as one might think, I expected the sleek, black cool car. It seemed like the Jace-y thing to drive. I was pleasantly surprised when he rolled around from the school car park in a loud, noisy, ginormous ute. A car person would probably point out the chips in the paint; the slight specks of orange rust on some of the metal work; and the fact that the engine doesn't purr, it doesn't even growl, it roars like an angry bear. The aircon was broken and the radio only took CD's. Except somehow when I saw it (her, I was corrected later) I couldn't help but think it was absolutely perfect.
We started going deeper into the shrubs and I had to ask: "Where are you taking me anyway?"
"If I tell you, you'd have to kill me," he says with a wink.
I scowl at him, then a look of horror crosses over my features, "It's not at your headquarters is it?" I ask.
"Yes and no... It's not Herondale headquarters as in the place you broke into yesterday," he says which just leads me into further confusion.
My brow furrows as I try to think of where he would stash my baby, I tried not to look too eager when he mentioned my knife, but I think (know) he saw straight through me. My knife is the one thing that kept me from drowning at the Institute, it was the first thing I excelled at and it was what I held onto on Christmas', Easters, any sort of public holidays. They weren't celebrated at the Institute, everyday everyone had things to do, places to go, people to kill. It made it all feel a little more like home. Then it hit me, and I knew with a sinking feeling in my gut where we were going.
"Jace!" I whisper yelled, not totally sure why since we were in a car and not actually there yet, "YOU ARE TAKING ME TO YOUR HOUSE, YOUR GRANDMOTHER'S HOUSE?!" Jace took one look at my furious expression and laughed.
"Relax Clary, Imogen is NEVER home. I mean think about it, she's just as busy as your dad, and how often was your dad home at-" he checks the clock on the dash, "4:30 in the afternoon?" he says, and he does have a point; I mean I barely ever saw Valentine and I lived in the same building as him.
"Never…" I admit reluctantly and he grins, "no one likes a smug boyfriend," I tease him and he smirks in that heart breaking way of his.
"You know you love it," he says with a wicked glint to his eyes daring me to deny it. I bite my lip and look away trying not to laugh.
"Fine," I say slowly, "just pinky swear she won't be home," I deadpan and he looks at me quizzically.
"Pinky swear?" he says incredulously, I just smile nod and hold out my pinky.
"Just remember no one can break a pinky swear," he grins and lazily hooks his pinky round mine.
"I pinky swear that my Grandmother will be nowhere in sight," he says just as serious and I settle into my seat and watch as we go deeper into the bush.
Jace's house is one of those old big ones, that are right into the bush, with the classic front porch and the painted white weather boards.
"Wow," I say as we walk up to it, "it's so… normal," I finish, my tone holds a lot of wonder and he knows that I mean it as a compliment.
"Come on," he says, "I'll give you the tour."
The house is amazing, yet simple. It's uncluttered and looks very different from where I grew up with my mum. Everything is neat and it almost looks untouched, I can tell that they don't spend a lot of time here.
"Imogen likes everything to me neat when she's home, which is never, so the house always looks like this," I can hear the bitterness in his voice as he talks about his family. I squeeze his hand, and he smiles down at me before pulling my up the stair case.
Upstairs is small and all the floors are carpeted, unlike down stairs. Jace takes me down the small passages pointing out the two other rooms, "And this is my room," he says opening the door.
From what I've seen of Simon's room I would usually say that boys are messy. Jace is not, his room is almost empty, there's a desk with a CD player on it, his bed is made and all that's on his bed side table is an alarm clock. The walls are white with nothing on them and from what I can see through the small gap in his cupboard all his clothes are neatly folded as well. The room it's self is mediums sized and because of the lack of furniture there's quite a lot of space to move.
The only thing that holds a hint of personality I discover is the music and the acoustic guitar probed up against the side of his desk. I wonder around and finger the guitar gently.
"I didn't know you played," I say and he bites his lip and looks down.
"I usually only play when no one's listening," he says shyly and I smile a bit.
"Will you play me something? If you do, I'll show you my thing," I say and that captures his attention.
Slowly he reaches for his guitar, he closes his eyes as he strums the opening bars to one of my favourite songs. My breath stops as he begins to sing, his voice is magical, I'm hypnotised by him.
"And I'd give up forever to touch you
Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now"
He seems completely immersed in the music, but when he reaches the chorus he stares straight into my eyes and my heart flutters in my chest.
"And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I Just want you to know who I am,"
Time seems to stops as he continues, his fingers move gracefully over the strings and his voice is effortless, there is so much emotion in his voice but I can't help it; tears fill my eyes, I smile and wipe my eyes as I watch him play.
As he whispers the last few words of the song I don't realise but more tears are streaming down my face and he places his guitar down and walks over to me.
"Was I really that bad?" he asks, cupping my face and wiping the tears under my eyes.
"No, not at all," I say with a hiccup-y smile, "That was beautiful. You're beautiful," I say and then blush as I realise I called him beautiful.
"Thanks, Clary. That's what every guy wants to hear," he teases me with a smile, "so I revealed my soul to you, your turn," he says and sits on my chair as I stand up and walk over to my bag.
I pull out the old sketch book that I take everywhere with me. It's old, I've had it with me my whole life, some of the pages are yellowing and the outside is frayed leather that I hand sewed to protect it when I was ten. I also painted the Celtic design on the front in gold paint when I was at the Institute.
I sit in Jace's lap and he runs his fingers gently over the design, "did you paint that?" he asks his voice holds a bit of awe.
I nod my head and open the book. I look silently at the drawings of the pages as we progress through the book. Some girls keep diaries, I just tended to but all my feeling into pictures.
Most of them are grey lead drawings of girls, some part of me refuses to acknowledge the girl as myself. But I know that she is. I only realised then how sad I was as I watched the pictures flick past, the girl I drew was never happy. Often she was crying or alone, she was never drawn with anyone who looked like they wanted o comfort her. Jace wraps an arm around me and pulls me to him as he flips the pages over.
I try to hide my embarrassment when he reaches the more recent drawings, because suddenly the girl is gone, replaced instead by a boy. A boy with wings; A boy who highly resembles Jace. Suddenly the girl starts to look happy as her and the angel boy leap off a waterfall, I feel Jace smile at the memory.
The final picture is one I drew last night when I was stressing over Jace and his identity. The angel boy is carrying the crying girl in his arms and flying up towards the sky, and away from the darkness below, but the darkness has a hold of her hand and her heart glows black.
Jace stops on this one, and presses his lips to my head.
"Get up," he whispers.
"Why? What are we doing?" I ask as he wonders over to his collection of CD's after scanning a few covers he pulls out a disk and puts it in the player.
"Why CD's?" I ask as we wait for the disk to load, "Why not your iPod?"
"I don't know," he says, "CD's always seem more classic, they're stable, they're physical. The can't be lost in seconds."
"So what are we doing?" I ask as I stand in the middle of his room.
"I thought it was obvious," he says as he walks over to me, "We're dancing," he wraps his arms around my waist and I automatically wrap my arms around his neck.
We sway to the music and I recognise the song.
"How do you know all my favourites?" I whisper at him as we listen dance simply to Here's to the nights.
"What can I say, great mind think a like?" he whispers back and I open my mouth but he shushes me and we just stay like that. If I could have frozen that moment forever I would have, I would have made that song never end I would have stayed for eternity in his embrace and never needed escape, I could have died and been completely blissfully happy.
As the last few lines of the song played Jace bent down and whispered them into my ear.
"Here's to the nights we felt alive
Here's to the tear you'd knew you'd cry
Here's to goodbye
Tomorrow's going to come too soon"
I could help it, I had to; I kissed him. Hard and passionately, it was the kind of kiss that no matter how hard you try to hold back you can't. I couldn't see myself ending that kiss and I could see Jace ending it either. So maybe it was a good thing we heard noises down stairs. Because that was the only thing that could have broken us apart.
I only wish the noises weren't voices.
"Jace, are you home?" A female voice called over the other ones.
"Imogen?" I whispered, panicked.
He nods grimly, "And she brought friends."
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