CHAPTER 10 – Not Human

"Vic, what's a belly button?" The dish from dinner she was washing clattered in the sink as it slipped out of her hand.

"A belly button?"

"Yeah." Victoria took a breath. In her mind's eye she saw the days they were poorer than poor, walking through one of the rich neighbourhoods on a hot summer day. The sprinklers turned on and they ran across the lawn as the water arched over them. It was so hot that Jacob had taken off his shirt; his skinny, malnourished eleven-year-old body was pale white it the glaring sun, the farmer's tan from constantly wearing his grimy t-shirt very evident.

She could count his ribs and it broke her heart. The delight on his face as they got soaked didn't diminish the ache in her chest. This was just before she decided to travel north with him in search of a better life.

Jacob was leaping through the upward spray of water when she noticed. His stomach was flat and empty. She touched her own stomach in a daze as Jake bound across the perfect green grass, feeling the small indentation that was her belly button. Jacob didn't have one.

Shadowhunter training taught her what that meant. Warlocks always had something that marked them as partially inhuman, the offspring of mortals and demons. In the old days it was sometimes called the Devil's mark. Jacob seemed normal, but he didn't have a belly button, which meant he hadn't been born to a human mother.

But Jacob had never shown signs of having the gift – or curse – of magic, so Victoria had never asked. And now he was asking her.

"It's where you were attached to your mom in the womb, by an umbilical cord," she said uncomfortably. "Didn't they teach you this as part of Sex Ed in school?"

"Yeah," Jacob said, looking troubled. He glanced up at Victoria. "Why don't I have one?"

"What, a belly button?" He nodded. "I don't know, Jake," she replied honestly.

"Am I a… a warlock?" he asked hesitantly. She wondered how he had come to that conclusion, but it didn't really surprise her; after all, she'd been the one to teach him how to spot a Downworlder.

"Have you ever made something disappear into thin air?" she asked jokingly, but his face was dead serious.

"Tell me, Victoria. I'm not a kid anymore. I want to know!" he said. Victoria sighed.

"If you were a warlock, you'd be able to use magic. Because you don't, it could mean you're an ifrit, a half-breed warlock who can't use magic. But you don't have the right physical signs of ifrit genes either," she said, her voice clipped and firm, like she was teaching a lesson. The way she thought of it was like ripping off a band aid. It was better he knew quickly and all at once.

But to Jacob, the realization that he wasn't human was like ripping off a band aid and finding a gaping wound that was gushing blood underneath. He went silent, looking down.

"Oh Jacob, its okay," Victoria said soothingly, taking a seat next to him. She slid an arm over his shoulder but he shrugged it off, standing up.

"I'm going out," he muttered, before bolting out the door.

"Jacob!" she called after him, but he didn't stop or even slow, and she let him go. Her heart ached for him; he was her brother. Blood didn't matter, he was family. And to see him hurting… she took a deep breath, gritting her teeth. Vic knew he would need some time to cool off, so she stood up and walked over to the sink to finish washing the dishes.

Jacob ran down the dark streets, barely pausing as he flew around corners. He had to find her. He just had to.

"Back again?" Jacob turned abruptly, finding the same blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl behind him. Jetty, those men had called her. He had been about to walk past her without noticing when she had spoken up. The sight of her still put him slightly on edge. He didn't say a word, just pushed open the door to the dingy café. He was here to work.

But once his shift was over and he stumbled out of the back door of the hot kitchen, she was still there, leaning against the brick wall of the alley. She grinned at him and said, "Warlock."

"Who are you?" he demanded, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. She had no right to stand there and call him names.

"My name's Jetty," she said, "Or Jet for short. What's yours?"

"Jacob," he replied, still suspicious.

"Well Jacob, how would you like to see my side of the city?" A part of him knew it was a bad idea, but Jacob was curious. She began to walk, and gestured impatiently for him to follow.

"C'mon…"

The day was clear in his memory. They'd spent the entire afternoon together. Jetty was the most interesting girl he'd ever met, much more so than the ones who tried talking to him at school. She was fast-talking and said things he never would have dared out loud, frank and blunt, and sometimes seemed to have no shame.

"See this?" she said, pulling up her shirt to show him the tattoo on her hip. It was a strange symbol that he didn't know the meaning of. "This is my gang tattoo," she said. He vaguely remembered seeing the symbol before, but his eyes were drawn away from the ink in her skin to the tiny puckered hole on her exposed stomach. A belly button…

Jacob ran harder. He turned down the route he'd walked dozens of times by now, went through shortcuts Jetty had shown him, all the way down to the residential area.

"This is my house," she said, pointing to the dilapidated building they stood in front of. It was falling apart, but looked better than a few of the others houses on the street. Jetty seemed proud of it. He waited for her to ask him inside, but she didn't say a word. She just kept walking, calling back to him almost in annoyance.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?"

He stood in front of that same house now, in the dark. Light and music spilled out the windows and doors along with the voices of many people, some of them sitting on the lawn, drinking and smoking. Jacob took a deep breath and walked forward.

The walkway was cracked, weeds pushing through. He marched up the sagging front porch steps and pushed open the door. As he stepped in, he was bombarded by the smell of sweat and alcohol. The party was in full swing.

"Jetty?" he called out hesitantly, treading carefully from room to room, wide-eyed as he took in the scene before him. Everyone was drinking. Some were dancing, laughing and screaming loudly. Girls were scantily-clad, boys watching them with undisguised lust. Jacob's head spun.

"Jetty?" He blinked, breathless. He turned a corner and suddenly, there she was. She was wearing a very short ripped jean mini-skirt and a tight-fitting, low-dropping top. She had three boys around her, and a red plastic cup in hand. She was laughing, looking up at the boys with her strange confidence.

When she caught sight of him, she nearly dropped her cup. "One second," Jacob thought she said to the boys – boys that looked much older than her – and walked over too him. She grabbed his arm and dragged him through the house without a word, out a side door and into the yard at the side of the house. His back hit the crooked wooden fence that separated Jetty's property from the neighbours as she slammed the door behind her.

"What are you doing here?" she very nearly hissed at him, tossing her cup in the trash and crossing her arms.

"I'm not human," he said.

There must have been something in his face, or voice, as her whole demeanour changed. She walked towards him, putting her small hands on his shoulders with a surprisingly strong grip. She looked him straight in the eye and said, "I don't care."

It was the last thing Jacob had expected, and then–

She kissed him right on the lips.

It was hard and fast, just the pressure of her mouth against his. It was over just as quickly as it had begun, leaving Jacob dazed and thoughtless, staring down at the girl.

"Go home, Jacob," she said, before turning and walking back into the house.