11

"In the kingdom of glass everything is transparent, and there is no place to hide a dark heart."

~ Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

It was dark outside as we gathered in the Accords Hall. It was a room of all white, lined with marble. A large fountain in the shape of a mermaid stood in the middle. It was 1991 and time to sign the Ninth Accords. The Downworlder Representatives all seemed hesitant as we waited for the proceedings to begin. I especially kept my eye on Valentine who seemed to be grinning rather sharply from the sidelines. After negotiations were made the Accords were brought out to be signed. It was then that I saw the flash of black metal as Valentine pulled a sword. The doors behind me opened as a rush of Werewolves, Vampires, Faeries, and Warlocks filled the Hall, shedding blood from both sides.

I bolted upright in bed out of my nightmare. The sheets were dampened with sweat as I peeled myself away and drudged to the bathroom to shower. As I stepped out of the shower I was greeted by the fragrant aroma of coffee. I slipped a light blue v-neck over my head and made my way to the kitchen where Mark was sitting at the breakfast bar with Magnus, sipping coffee.

"Good morning," I smiled and Mark looked back at me, "You're here early."

"I wouldn't want your trying to sneak off without me," he laughed, "Also, Magnus asked me to come early. He had a few questions."

"Questions?" I raised my eyebrows, "Or was he sharing embarrassing stories?"

"As much as I love that idea, alas I did not share any stories," Magnus sipped his coffee, "But if you would like me to, I am sure I can think of something to share." He grinned slyly.

"No thank you, that was not an invitation. I do a good enough job embarrassing myself, I do not need assistance."

"Now," Magnus set his cup down and stood from his stool, "I expect you both to not take any unnecessary risks. Come back safely in one piece, and do not require me to recruit a search party. I have enough on my plate trying to ward the city from Valentine."

"Ward the city?" I raised my brow, "What do you mean?"

"While I am alive Valentine will neither be able to leave or enter my city. If he is here still he will not go to another city, and if he has left, I won't be allowing him back."

"Magnus, that is some serious magic," I was in disbelief, "You can't possibly hold off like this on your own. Perhaps I should stay to help."

"I am the High Warlock of Brooklyn," Magnus cracked his fingers, "I can handle keeping my city safe. If I need help I can contact Catarina. You need to go appease the Consul."

"Okay, but send for me if Valentine causes any more problems."

"Will do," Magnus held up his hand to form a glistening portal in the center of his living room, "That should take you just outside of Alicante. They don't really let people portal into the city."

"Thank you," Mark shook Magnus's hand, "Good luck today."

"You as well," Magnus smiled and ushered us through the portal sealing it shut behind us.

The living room was a blur behind us as we lurched forward into the land of Idris. We stood on a cobblestone street facing a city that resembled Venice and Rome. Surrounding it were large towers that glistened in the sunlight, like glass. There was a guard station set up near the entrance manned by a couple of Shadowhunters.

"Hello, Jeffrey Wolfwright and Mark Nighthunter here to meet with the Consul," I told them, showing my stele.

Their brows furrowed in surprise, "You're Jeff Wolfwright?" They looked me over, "The Warlock?"

"Sure, I'm also a Shadowhunter, but call me whatever you want."

"Alright, I'll take you to the Consul's quarters," the larger of the two men stepped out from their post, "Follow me."

We entered the city on a large path, passing two of the towers at the entrance. I felt an odd tingle through my body as we entered through the wards. We passed a large statue of an angel wielding a sword and holding a chalice in his left hand which appeared to be levitating. Finally, we crossed a river and I saw the Gard towering up ahead. It resembled a rather bland rendition of a fairy-tale palace with numerous towers, some cylindrical, others were rectangular. The gates of the Gard are tall and wrought from a combination of silver and cold iron covered in calligraphic interpretations of Marks. On either side are stone statues known colloquially as the Guardians, warrior-angels, holding a carved sword and standing above dying creatures meant to represent the demonic enemies of the Nephilim. It had been decades since I entered the Gard. Charlotte Branwell had been Consul at the time, and was a good friend of mine. I, unfortunately, did not keep up with her children much after she passed, but now I know of Clary and her mother. Mark was looking at me with a slightly puzzled look.

"Are you ready?" he asked, "Or perhaps I should ask if you are okay?"

"Ready for?" I paused and looked at the guard who seemed to be glaring at me.

"You are to enter and go meet with the Consul."

"Oh, right…" I paused, "Yes, very well, thank you for showing us. I have been to see the Consul before, so I am certain I can find my way."

The man's glare stabbed me a final time before he proceeded back to his post. Mark took my hand and looked into my eyes, "Are you okay, you kinda zoned out there."

"Yes, I was just reminiscing I suppose. It has been a while since I was last here, and it was in better circumstances."

"It will be okay," Mark smiled, "You haven't done anything wrong, and I am here."

"Yes, thank you," I gave his hand a squeeze as we walked through the gates and entered the Gard. The walls inside were carved with angelic runes that lit the windowless halls. There were no paintings or tapestries like there would be in the Institutes, just eloquently carved runes.

"Mr. Wolfwright," a sharp voice greeted us as we rounded the corner of the hall. A man stood at the end with a very angular face. His short blonde hair was slicked back and a dark black rune was visible on his neck, "Please, right this way."

Mark and I strode toward him confidently and slowed to a halt in front of him, "Malachi Dieudonné, lovely to see you." I managed to force a believable smile and shook his hand, "This is Mark Nighthunter of the New York Institute."

He nodded to Mark who bowed his head slightly, "Thank you for coming to meet with me. We haven't heard from you in ages, some even thought you to be dead."

"I'm sure that if you spoke to Tessa at the Spiral Labyrinth she would have told you that I was alive and well. I have kept in touch with her over the years."

"Of course, of course," Malachi lead us into his office and gestured for us to be seated, "We just thought you would be more involved in your heritage."

"My heritage?" I almost laughed, "So you thought I would get involved in Shadowhunter politics? What did you want me to be your next Inquisitor? I didn't realize you were so fond of me."

He frowned, "No, no, I just thought you would attend some of our meetings perhaps in your sister's stead."

"I'm sorry, but my sister and I haven't exactly been worshiped or appreciated by the Shadowhunters," I felt my blood begin to boil, "Mostly chastized and looked down upon as lesser beings. Malachi you are not going to fool me with your delusions of friendship. I know how Shadowhunters work, you are more or less concerned about your bottom line. I am a tool that could be of use and you do not wish to piss me off and make me fall off your radar again. I have retained some of the powers that my sister has not, and I possess more Shadowhunter abilities than she does."

Malachi seemed taken aback by my outburst, "Mr. Wolfwright, you seem to insinuate that Shadowhunters do not respect and protect Downworlders, but we have the Accords to help assure just that."

"I know what the Accords are Malachi, I was there when they were created."

"Yes, I suppose that is true," Malachi toyed his fingers, "Well, it is good to see that you have returned to us."

"I haven't really returned to you. I am just active as a Warlock in New York. I am here to warn of a certain Shadowhunter's return. Valentine, I saw him, and he attacked me Malachi. Mark was there too, and something needs to be done. You let him run amuck before, but you can't do it again. You would lose your position as the Consul."

"Is that a threat?" Malachi stood from his seat, "I don't accept threats from Downworlders."

"One minute you are sunshine and rainbows, but now you are doom and gloom," I got up and matched his stance, "Don't threaten me Malachi, I assure you that you won't win. I can steal the air from your throat before you can even shout for your guards."

"Hey, calm down," Mark pushed me back and stood between us, "We shouldn't be fighting. We came looking for the Consul's support, not to start a war."

"Mark, it was clear from the moment we entered his office Malachi wanted me for my power not to 'catch up' or offer me a seat on the Council. What is it this time Malachi? You want me to transform into a vampire to tell you if they have been breaking the law? Another Warlock to tell you if they are dealing in black magic?"

"No," Malachi's glare was still sharp, but he took a seat prompting for me to follow, "We wanted you to transform into Jocelyn Fairchild. We have reason to believe that she hid the Mortal Cup, and, if what you say is true, it isn't safe out there."

"I don't know if I could?" I crossed my arms, "Her apartment caught fire, and she is nowhere to be found. It is believed that Valentine kidnapped her and is trying to extract that same information. I would need something that was meaningful of her's in order to complete the transformation."

"I'm sure there must be something left," he looked to Mark, "Return to the Institute and tell them that I want a search team to look through the apartment. We have to find the cup before anyone else."

"But why should we trust you?" I paused before exiting his office, "The Cup is powerful, as you said, but you if your hands aren't the right ones either. There was a time when the Clave used the Cup to convert any Mundane that looked healthy enough. Kidnapping them from their families, destroying relationships, not to mention murdering those that couldn't survive the change."

Malachi visibly flinched at my words, "Times have changed and people change."

"Yes, but Shadowhunters team to change even less than Mundanes," I scowled, "I will go and find the Cup. Whoever proves that they can be trusted will get it from more or you can pry it from my cold, dead, hands." I grinned and stormed out. Mark bowed apologetically to the Consul before chasing after me.

"You can't talk to the Consul that way," Mark shook his head, "He could have us locked up, or have you killed."

"I'd like to see him try," I laughed, "I wasn't kidding you know, Shadowhunters have used the Cup to do horrible things. Why do you think Valentine wants it so badly? You want me to believe that Malachi would protect it if we handed it over? I don't think so."

"I know, but the Consul is still in charge of all Shadowhunters, and that includes me. One word from him and I could be stripped of my marks."

"He wouldn't do that without the cup."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because, they can't create new Shadowhunters without it, and you are clearly one of the best," I gave him a wink and he flushed.

"I'm not that great, I'm no Jace Herondale."

"And I'm glad that you aren't," I pulled him in for a quick kiss before we exited the Gard. We walked through the gate and passed a couple of kids that were arguing in the square that had the statue of the angel.

"Mark?!" a girl's voice called out, "Is that you?" One of the kids ran over with the other following her. She appeared to be in her early teens with long black hair that fell straight behind her shoulders. The boy looked like a mini version of Mark, probably around the fourth-grade level, with short black hair that slightly covered the top of his ears.

"Lala? Ethan? What are you doing here?" Mark gasped giving them each a hug.