I do not own most of these characters- Cassandra Clare does. Thank you SO much to the people who have reviewed/read/favorited/followed. You guys are awesome!
Clary's eyes snapped open so suddenly it was almost as if someone had screamed right next to her ear.
Her back was cold, and she was staring at a white wall. White. Wait... weren't the walls supposed to be yellow? Clary sat up straight, covers falling from her shoulders.
Slowly, the events of yesterday trickled back, and Clary recgonized where she was- one of the spare rooms in the Dunedin Institute. Not in her and Jace's cozy apartment. There was no one lying beside her, no smell of coffee.
Clary's stomach clenched in homesickness and she shook it away. How can I be homesick after less than twenty four hours? This is insanity. She jumped out of bed, toes screaming in protest against the cold floor, and grabbed clothes at random, heading down the hallway to the bathroom.
The floor was slick tile, and Clary nearly slipped on it several times. There were four grey plastic stalls and two showers- Clary was the only person in the bathroom. For that, she was grateful. She showered quickly under the lukewarm water, toweled dry, and stepped into jeans and a faded blue shirt, combing her hair with her fingers. She wrangled it back in a sloppy bun and glanced at herself briefly in the mirror.
She looked the same, except with her eyes tired from little sleep. Same dark red curls- same green eyes. Clary rubbed her eyes in attempt to clear them and headed down two floors.
The cafeteria was a white room with several long blue tables stretched out. Shadowhunters bustled around, eating and chatting. Clary spotted Jace, Alec, Magnus, Simon, and Izzy sitting at one table, and made a beeline over to them.
"Hey, sleeping beauty," Jace teased as she dropped into the seat next to him. "Where've you been?" His voice was joking, but his eyes- worried and exhausted- said otherwise. He kissed her forehead briefly, smoothing her hair away from her face, and Clary closed her eyes, feeling a little fraction of warmth slip back into her heart.
"Save it for later." Magnus leaned against the table. He was dressed in a neon green tie with orange splotches that clashed terifically with his dark shirt that said ANGEL IN DISGUISE and bright purple jeans. "This is a family cafeteria." He waved his arm to show all of the child Shadowhunters, all sitting and eating and talking. Clary suspected that they were speaking about her. And the rest of her friends.
Jace merely shrugged, which alerted Clary that something was definetely off. Jace didn't shrug.
Isabelle flicked a long strand of hair away from her face- she was dressed in a red dress and black cardigan. She gestured impatiently with her fork. "You can stop standing around discussing your love lives now. There's actually things to think about. Like, what's going to happen today?"
"I heard that we were going to have a meeting," Alec interjected, frowning. He had barely touched his plate of eggs and toast- now he pushed the tray away. He was, per usual, decked out in a ratty brown sweater and fraying jeans, though Magnus had apparently forced him to wear a long bright-red-and-blue scarf.
"Great. Meetings." Jace's jaw was tight, and Clary instictively touched his wrist.
"We need to figure out what's going on before we tackle it," Simon explained logically.
"Right." Jace's eyes were hard and cold. "Because that's what the Clave has issued."
"The Clave's not the enemy here," Clary said gently. "The demons are."
Jace's face softened marginally. "I know." He stood and pushed his tray away. "I'm going to head over to the meeting room. See you there." He pushed away from the table and walked out of the cafeteria.
Clary stood immediately. "I'm going, too."
"Wait." Simon grabbed her sleeve. "Clary." He handed her an apple. "Breakfast- most important meal of the day, right?" His eyes pleaded with her.
Clary couldn't bear to let him down. She took the apple and smiled briefly. "Thanks," she murmured, and hurried out. On her way to the meeting hall, she took a bite from the fruit- her stomach churned and twisted, and she stopped briefly to toss the apple away.
When she saw the meeting hall, she gasped.
There was a large ring of glass desks over the hardwood floor, and behind that rose a large, intricate marble statue of the Angel. The artist had captured every detail- the cold pride, the outstretched wings, every little feather. There was a bright rising sun behind it, painted across the wall behind the Angel. Leaning against the base stood Jace, arms crossed.
Clary stepped over to him. "Hey."
"Hey." Jace raised his eyebrows at her.
Clary sighed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Listen- I know you're frustrated, and so am I-"
Jace pushed his fingers through his hair and made a fist. "It's more than that. It's not knowing anything." He pushed away from the statue. "Are you still having nightmares?"
Clary chewed the inside of her cheek. "I'm fine," she lied. She didn't want to think about her nightmares. Last night, in her fitful bursts of sleep, she had dreamed of herself laughing with Jonathan, besiee a faceless girl who laughed along with them.
Jace frowned at her.
"Really," Clary insisted.
Jace bent down and touched his lips to her cheek. "You can tell me the truth," he murmured against her skin.
"I'm serious." Clary's stomach clenched around the lie- she wound her hands around Jace's neck and leaned up to kiss him lightly on the lips. Jace breathed out in surprise and kissed her back just as the door opened- Clary broke away from Jace to see Giena Nightdove, her hair pulled back in a tight braid, a flush on her high cheekbones.
"I can see tha you two are already here," she said, a trace of amusement in her words.
Clary felt heat creep up her neck. "Sorry," she mumbled, sitting hastily at a glass desk.
Giena shook her head knowingly. "Just save it for later. The others will be coming any time now."
Jace sat beside Clary just as the doors opened again and people poured in, all quickly finding seats- it was eerie how silent it was. Clary swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth and found her friends. Magnus, Isabelle, Simon, Alec, and Jocelyn. Her muscles relaxed marginally.
Giena clapped her long, knobbly, callused hands together. She stood in the center of the glass desks. "We gather today," she said, "To discuss the demonic activity that has been current in Dunedin. A group from New York has generously come down to help us. Wrangel Island has looked into this. Our wards are up and running perfectly normally. The Silent Brothers are just as mystified as we are."
A balding man with fair, wispy hair stood up. He turned and Clary saw with an amount of surprise the scar, running from his left eyelid to his lip. "Are there any other places that have been attacked? Or where demonic activity has been found?"
Giena slid a notecard out from her pocket. "New York has traces of demonic activity. Alicante. And Dunedin, of course," she read out loud, then pocketed it again. "All of these places have fine wards."
"Then couldn't it be in your own city?" Jace spoke up- he was leaning forwards, elbows balanced on knees.
"We have looked in all the suspectable places." Giena swiped a lock of hair behind her ear, and Clary could see the tired lines at her lips and eyes.
"Then what about the unsuspectable places?" Jace asked- his eyes were burning and Clary wanted to get up and comfort him, but knew she couldn't.
"There is too vast a majority of unsuspectable places for our patrols to cover," Giena replied, shaking her head helplessly.
"Could it be a mundane cult?" A girl with dark curls called from the back of the room- she looked about Clary's age, and was standing by that blond girl that had rushed up to Jace and giggled for two minutes straight yesterday.
"This is too strong to be a mundane cult. It has been heard of mundanes accidentally raising Greater Demons, but not this," Giena said.
"So what's the plan?" Jocelyn's fists were clenched in her lap, and Clary ached to go over and sit beside her mother. She looked down at her own hands, tight and fisted.
"The plan..." Giena looked down at the floor, and clasped her hands together. "Willing volunteers, armed and ready, will go in the places were demoic activity has been tracked. There will be backup to record what happens."
"You're just letting your warriors die?" The words blurted from Clary's lips on their own accord. At the expression, helpless and defenseless, on Giena's face, she immediately wished that she hadn't said anything.
"It's our only hope," Giena said, and the crowd broke out in murmurs and whispers.
Clary stared up at the cold face of Raziel. But is it? she wondered. And is the cause something no one expects?