Short note - thanks to all those who reviewed and have begun to follow this story of mine. It's pretty awesome to see how much feedback i've been getting for this. I've updated my other TMI/TID story incase your interested, so you can find it on my page. Other than that, please endure and enjoy :D
- Violentkitsune
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Chapter 28: New Generation
Clary twirled about in Jace's arms, her face lit up with pure, unadulterated happiness. Her walls were down, and the fear of her past had disappeared.
For once, the future looked bright and hopeful for the young redhead.
The tall, strong policeman spun Clary out, and back in again, his eyes hungry and lingering on her figure with lust and the knowledge that she was his. The young redhead smirked and snaked one hand around the back of his neck, the ballroom disappearing from sight around them. The string quartet continued to play its harmonic symphony, the notes gliding through the air. Jace drew her in close, dipping her down low, his eyes taking in all that was before him.
"You're as beautiful as always, Clarissa," he whispered heatedly, his breath tickling her skin. Clary growled playfully as he pulled her back up, picking up her body and spinning them around in a circle.
The redhead locked her hands around his neck and gazed down into his golden eyes. How she managed to snag this man for the taking, she'll never know. But she knew for certain that she would never leave his side for as long as she lived.
"I don't ever want to let you go, Jace," she said deeply, bringing her face in close to the blonde. He was her safe harbour, and there was no way she wanted to lose someone who she trusted.
"Don't worry. I won't let you go anywhere, Morgenstern."
Morgenstern.
His flirtatious demeanor disappeared, and Clary found her face reflected back on cold, unfeeling eyes. Her body froze up as Jace dropped her onto the ground. He pulled her arms up and over his head. Eyes widened at the cold iron cuffs linking her wrists together. Gone was the beautiful dress, replaced by a bright orange jumpsuit drenched in blood at the arms and knees.
"Jace, no – please, I didn't mean to—"
His smile was cold and unflinching, his eyes hardened as they looked at her. "Don't worry Morgenstern – you won't be leaving my sight for the next fifty years."
"Jace, no – I'm not a Morgenstern! I'm not like Valentine! I'M NOT LIKE VALENTINE!"
"Yes you are Clarissa."
Her blood froze as Jace's hair turned to silver platinum; his face shifting ever so slightly in shape while his eyes grew darker. Valentine peered back into her eyes, holding her tightly by the arms. His hold was strong, and tight enough that Clary feared her blood circulation would be cut off.
"You're a Morgenstern by blood and by spirit," he stated, his voice bouncing off the prison walls around her. He grasped ahold of her hands and pulled them up in front of her. She held a handgun in one palm, and the other had a knife encrusted with dried blood. "You'll never be able to escape your heritage, child of mine."
Clary woke up with a start, clutching the knife stashed beneath her pillow while her chest heaved uncontrollably. She shot upright and held her freehand to her face, her cheeks damp with muffled tears. The bed wasn't hers; it was stiff from the lack of use, still getting accustomed to her shape. The bedspreads weren't hers; they were dark, versatile gunmetal silver and black, with the occasional blue thrown in to break it. The room was cold, featuring the bare essentials such as a set of drawers with a lamp and a digital alarm clock winking in the dark – all things that were opposite to her own personal possessions.
That's right, she remembered, Jonathan's apartment.
The redhead released her grip on the knife and curled up against her knees as she clutched her head, screaming internally. That dream – no, that… nightmare, was all too realistic, all too probable. The likelihood of that becoming her reality was too high for her liking. She brushed her hair off her face and stared at her palms, the grooves and the faded white lines etched into her fingertips from the many splinters and paper-cuts'.
"What the hell have you done, Fray?"
.
My life flashed before my eyes
Razor-blade lips and daggers up in your eyes
Ba-by, your love is a crime
Danger by day, but you're evil in the night
Jace cut through an alleyway, abandoning the more, well-traveled paths for a secluded route, shaded by the suburban houses and borderline fences. He sped up along the footpath, the sound of music thumping in his ears and his heart racing in his chest. Sweat glistened on his face as he huffed in the cold morning air, his skin colliding with the dew from the early fog.
My life flashed before my eyes
Bombs over Broadway, f-fire in the sky
Ba-by your love is a crime
Danger by day, but you're evil in the night
The blonde came out of the alleyway and looked briefly both ways before leaping across the road, heading for the park just a few blocks away from his home. Very few people were out at this hour, save for the heavy marathon runners and sportsmen. Jace briefly waved to the regulars he passed by as he traded concrete for grass, crossing onto the dirt path leading up around the pond. A million things lingered on his mind, and right at the top was a certain redhead whose presence weighed heavily upon him.
"Have dinner with me."
He slowed down and stopped by a tall tree, leaning against the trunk for support. He stepped forward and stretched out his hamstrings, wincing as he felt his muscles briefly clamp up before relaxing again. A few female runners rushed by, gazing adoringly at the muscular cop, from the green singlet hugging his build to the tapered track pants covering his long legs. Jace paid no heed to their glances, his mind focused on something else far more important.
"Well I guess it's a yes then."
"Dammit," Jace hissed, pushing off the tree trunk. He braced his palms against his knee and ran his fingers through the loose strands that had fallen out of the tiny ponytail at the back of his head. "What am I going to do?"
Jace felt lost, stuck in a stagnate state. He didn't know who he was anymore. Ever since Clary came around, things had been different in his personal life. He was nervous about her, because he didn't know what to expect from a woman such as her. All his ex's, besides a select group of past girlfriends - had been loose cannons, the type who simply waited on hand and foot for him to shower them with affection and desire. Clary was different; she had a free spirit about her, a sense of independency about her that Jace had no hope of controlling. She kept dancing in and out of his reach, defying every assumption he had concocted about her.
For once in life, Jace was scared that he might be out of her league.
That idea alone, made his hair bristle with fear.
The blonde looked up to the sky, watching the sun makes it early ascension to it's throne above the clouds. He didn't want to mess up with the Fray girl; already she'd become someone he considered important, someone he wanted to get to know intimately without any barriers between them. He wanted her to learn about the real Jace, not the image of self-righteousness that everyone had painted of him. He had just as many flaws as the next man, and he didn't want to hide them away from her. He pulled one earphone out and let it dangle against his neck.
"Whatever happens man, don't screw things up," he vowed to himself. "Don't lose this girl, Jace."
"HOLY SHIT, THERE'S A DUCKLING COMING TOWARDS US!"
"WHERE THE FUCK IS IT!" Jace jumped up and backed up against the tree. He scanned the area for the viscous beasts, his eyes wide open and on the hunt for the furry ball of feathers. His earphones fell out as he searched the green park for the invaders of his peaceful world.
A tinkling laugh chimed through his ears, erasing all thought from his mind. "Damn, that never gets old – ah ha, ha, ha, ha!"
Jace eyes crinkled up in annoyance as he spotted the source of the loud guffaw, his golden eyes flashing dangerously. "I hate you, and I hope you die a slow, torturous death, you hag."
"Now is that anyway to behave towards me?"
Jace rolled his eyes and watched Aline Penhallow curl up into a ball of laughter, slumping onto the ground with tears in her eyes. Aline was a cheeky, devious little woman, who made up her lack of height with dangerously high levels of sarcasm and extroverted personality. Taking after the Commissioner, Aline shared exotic Asian features, with silky black locks that had been updated from a shoulder-length cut to a layered bob that framed her face. Round, almond-shaped brown eyes were balanced delicately on her sweet face, with curved cheekbones and plump lips set in a pout.
"One day, Aline Penhallow, God will smite the very ground where you stand. I pray he burns that stupid smirk off your face."
"You make it too easy, dweeb," Aline said loftily, her breathing returning back to normal. "I have no regrets, blondie."
The petite Asian woman sauntered over to the blonde with a cheeky grin on her face. She wore a pair of black aeroknit shorts and a neon-pink long-sleeve compression shirt. Her pale skin was flushed with endorphins and her eyes were full of secrets.
"Now this is the part where you go 'how've you been, Aline?' 'What have you been up to Aline?'"
Jace snorted airily and turned his head to the side stubbornly. "You don't deserve my respect, woman."
"Oh, c'mon," Aline moaned comically. She stood side-by-side with the blonde and poked him repeatedly in the ribs. "It wasn't that bad, was it? Are you that upset with me?"
Jace rolled his eyes as pushed the young woman away from his side. "What are you doing back here though?" He asked, his attitude no loner that of a moody pessimistic, pubescent teenager. "Last I saw, you were working over in New Jersey working for the Times up there?"
"Well, I got a call from the New York Sun and they offered me a better pay than Jersey Shore. Besides, things are getting pretty interesting down here, especially with all the crime rates going up a notch. Guess you'll be seeing me here around the Institute more often."
Jace rolled his eyes at the woman. Her strong sense of curiosity and social skills were what set her on a path to being a journalist. In high school, she ran both the online news forum on Facebook, and was chief editor of both the student newsletter that was printed out once a month, and the school yearbook. The woman was stubborn too - while other reporters and journalists knew when to turn tail and run for the hills, Aline stuck her nose up in the air and strode towards the action, regardless of the danger that accompanied it.
The blonde policeman looked at the dirt track, watching it as it bended around the pond. "Coming with?"
Aline grinned clipped her hair back out of her eyes. "Thought you were never going to ask. Same route?"
"Always."
The duo separated from the tree and ran along the dirt track, both of them maintaining a steady pace. They were familiar with the terrain of the neighbourhood, their feet guiding them along the track almost instinctively. The two had been close in high school, growing up in the same neighbourhood and with the same friends. With her mother being the Commissioner, Aline found herself more often than not getting into a heap of trouble with the Lightwood lot. She was the idealist of their gang - the one who came up with the ideas while Jace came up with the strategies to complete their mini-missions.
"So how have you been anyways?" Jace huffed.
"Fantastic, really," Aline huffed back. She skipped ahead in front of Jace as they passed a pair of running buddies, smiling politely at them and saying 'good morning' to them. "My girlfriend brought me with her to see her family in the area. They adore me. I'm practically the sunshine in their hectic lives, and her younger siblings pretty much worship me. I think it's safe to say they're already planning our future together." Aline turned her head as she slowed down to match Jace's pace. "How's my mother been treating you? Still getting the royal treatment up at the Institute?"
"Of course," Jace said sarcastically. "Although I'm pretty sure she's warmed up to me now."
"Keep dreaming pretty boy. You know it's takes a lot for my mother to like someone."
The pair raced ahead out of the park, crossing the busy road and passing the row of stores lined up along the road. The small businesses were just beginning to open up, their employee's setting up the stalls and tables outside their doors.
"So, what's been going on in your love life, Herondale?"
Jace stumbled back, shock on his face. "How the hell—"
"I stuck around a little bit before I pulled the duckling card on you," Aline said guiltily, slowing down as she waited for Jace to catch up to her. "You were giving yourself the 'pep talk'." She began to jog backwards, a look of dark glee covering her face. "So tell me, blondie. Who's got you whipped?"
Jace's face began to slowly turn red. "No one's got me whipped, alright?"
Aline raised both eyebrows mockingly. "Ri-ight," she said with a wink. "So if I go ask your siblings, will I get the same story from them?"
"Stubborn woman," Jace growled. He huffed as they both went around a sharp corner, coming down the street where Jace lived with the Lightwoods. "It's this woman I met a few weeks ago. She helped me out and… I dunno, I guess I just started to like her."
Aline braced one hand against his chest, stopping him mid-run. She wagged one finger in front of his face. "'Like her'? Like her?" she scoffed. "'Like' is what you and I had buddy; I saw how you were acting before and you looked like you had the weight of the whole world on your shoulders. This isn't some girl that you just 'like' buddy boy. You're actually treating this girl more seriously than you did with us."
Jace sighed. He and Aline once had a relationship of sorts, the kind that was more 'friends with benefits' kind of deal. They were each other's rebound, the one they gravitated towards when they were either bored out of their minds, or at an impasse in their own separate relationships. There were moments where they were completely synchronised with one another, as if they were one mind split apart into two bodies, but those moments were easily overwhelmed by memories of skin sliding against skin. Jace had ended it in their senior year in a gentlemanly fashion, and Aline had gracefully accepted the reality of things, albeit a little shattered with regards to her confidence levels. But since then Aline had grown to respect his boundaries and found others to love in her life, but men and women.
The blonde toyed with the small ponytail at the back of his head and blushed. "It's just… this girl is different, you know? She's not just someone that I want to sleep around with. I've hung out with her a few times now, and – I don't know, there's just this inner fire in her that gets me all revved up. I don't want to play around with her like I did with all those other chicks back in school."
Aline had her head angled to the side, her arms folded across her chest. Jace half-expected her to be semi-jealous of this girl she knew absolutely nothing about, but instead she was calm, almost thoughtful about the whole situation he was in. She looked up contemplatively at the blonde, a small smile on her lips.
"You're totally whipped," she concluded, reaching out to tap him on his bicep. "I don't even think I had you feeling that deep about us when we were together." She reached out towards him and her face turned to a cheeky monkey grin, one that held no malice of any sort for this phantom girl. "I want to meet her – this girl that has you doing double-takes. Think she'll be scared off if you tell her that? Or are you more afraid that I'm going to claw out her face?"
The blonde rolled his eyes and chuckled. He reached out and slung one arm sluggishly over her shoulders. She staggered beneath his weight, but Jace knew that it was all an act. The girl was tougher than her appearance lead one to believe.
"If things get really serious, then I'll introduce you to her," Jace promised the journalist. "I trust you well enough not to try and scare off from me. But do me a favor, and don't get too touchy with her."
Aline crossed a 'x' over her heart and put on an innocent face. "I make no promises, Herondale. But I'll try." She looked up down the road, her eyes focusing on the side street splitting off near the end. "Better get going before the household wakes up."
The young journalist turned back to the Blonde and hugged him briefly before running off into the distance. "See you around Herondale!" she cried out behind her.
Jace tilted his head to the side, smiling at the young half-cast woman. Aline was a welcoming blast from the past. He couldn't believe how much had changed between them.
Jace ran the last leg of his run, sprinting down the long driveway to the two-story house. He tapped his black Chevrolet as he raced past and jogged around to the back door. He pulled out his I-phone to check his time. Despite the slight interruption with the younger Penhallow, he'd still managed to make an acceptable timing for his run. Jace wiped the sweat off his brow and marched into the household, where a familiar kid began to make breakfast in the kitchen.
"That's one of the slowest times you've ever had of all time, Jace."
Jace pulled both earphones out and ruffled the youngest Lightwood's hair. Max Lightwood was the baby of the family, and by far the cutest. He had a pure sense of innocence about him, and his shyness and cluelessness only succeeded in increasing his cuteness factor. Like his older brother, Max had clear blue eyes as brilliant as frozen ice, with oversized glasses tilted slightly askew on his nose. He was tall, gangly with long limbs, and a mop of dark hair falling across his scalp. At fifteen years old, his future in the both the looks and dating department were promising. He was mature for his age, his thinking a little old-fashioned in comparison to the ways of society.
The blonde smirked as he mixed up his smoothie in the blender, chucking in a plethora of fruits and assorted dairy products. The young boy had quite the fan club at his school. On the off-times he went to go pick up the Lightwood, Jace would see a group of young teenage adolescents gathered about and waving him off the school grounds, some of them teary-eyed while others would whisper threateningly to one another.
"Caught up with Aline," Jace explained over the din in the kitchen. "Remember her?"
"The girlfriend you use to bring over for 'sexy-time'?" The young kid teased profusely. "How could I forget her? You kept sneaking out of the house to go hook up with her at the skate-park."
Max dished up his bacon and eggs on toast and marched over to the table, where a myriad of manga books, comics, and school textbooks teetered dangerously on the edge of the long table. The young boy plopped down and yawned, scratching the back of his neck. His boxer shorts hung loosely on his body, and his maroon hoodie all but engulfed his upper torso.
"You going anywhere today?" Jace asked, prying the lid off the kitchen appliance and emptying its contents into a large glass.
"Nope," Max replied, putting large amount of emphasis on the 'p'. "I've got some stuff to work on with the Blackthorns. They're coming over later on today." He began chewing away on his toast, devouring the bacon and poached egg on top. "By da way, wid Wissabelle 'n—"
"Swallow first kid," Jace interrupted.
The young boy obeyed and swallowed the food contents in his mouth. "Did Izzy come home last night?"
The blonde arched one eyebrow over his eye. The Lightwoods had left the jazz bar at separate times last night; Jace had a brief run-in with the blue-eyed cop and his ride for the night, the social philanthropist Magnus Bane – before leaving shortly after his redhead had disappeared down the road. "I heard Alec come in this morning, but I'm not sure about Izzy though… either way, Izzy will be fine. She knows where we live, and she knows the number for the house."
Max rolled his eyes at his older adopted brother's indifference and continued engulfing the food.
"Mom and Pops leave already?" Jace inquired, referring to his adopted parents. Maryse and Robert Lightwood.
"Yep," Max said with a pop.
Jace picked up his phone and scrolled through his contact list, searching for Clary's number near the top. When he found it, he sent a brief message to her:
Jace: Hope you got home safe, Red.
Send.
Jace placed the phone back in his pocket. He didn't expect an instant reply back to him, what with it being super early in the morning and all. For all he knew, she could be sleeping in back wherever she was. This was still new territory to him, the whole 'taking care' side of a relationship. He didn't even know if they in a relationship or not, but they seemed to be heading that direction. The blonde rolled his eyes and toyed juggled an orange in his hand.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, thundering throughout the empty house. Alec appeared from around the corner, half-dressed in jeans and a black tank top, with his hair a complete mess and a faint bruise at the base of his throat. He held his hand to his head and squinted in the early sunlight that streamed through the kitchen window. Jace grinned deliriously.
"Someone get some action last night?" said Jace to the hung-over cop. Alec growled at the blonde as he fumbled about in the medicine cabinet for a cure for his hangover.
"You can't talk, Jace. Did you run around outside with that hickey on your neck, Barbie-doll?" Jace's good mood faded as he instantaneously reached up to feel for his neck, looking in the reflection of his I-phone to see what Alec was on about. There were two bruises fading slightly against his tanned skin, but they were there nonetheless for the world to see. Jace smirked at the memory of Clary's lips latching onto his own, the fierce hunger that glittered behind her emerald eyes.
Beep. Jace felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he pulled it out to see what new notification Facebook had alerted him to. His gaze widened as he recognized a new message coming in from Clary's number.
Red: Don't worry Batman – I made it back to Watchtower safe and sound.
His face turned a light shade of pink as he read the message, his blood pumping a series of endorphins throughout his whole body. That was woman was the complete package; beautiful, talented, spirited, carefree, and a jokester.
"You've got fifteen minutes to get ready, and then you're coming with me," Alec ordered, downing the Advil with his pre-made protein juice from the night before.
"Why so bossy, Alexander?" Jace asked jokingly, his daydreams interrupted by the older boy. "It's only quarter to seven on a Sunday morning. Not like we've got anywhere to be. And stop calling me 'Barbie-doll'!"
"Quit the act, Barbie-doll," Alec reprimanded, ignoring his command. "Izzy just checked in at the Institute this morning, and she found something big on the way to work. You're never going to guess what it was."
"A Ferrari has been donated to the precinct for the use of the one and only Golden Boy? Took them long enough to get that—"
"Not that, you big lummox. Someone gift-wrapped drug-lord President Axel Mortmain from the Pandemonium Empire and ditched him out the front for the NYPD Institute."
The Institute was buzzing with activity. All minor officers made any excuse they could to go visit the holding cells, where the drug-lord lay in waiting, his body trembling with a combination of rage and fear while he nursed his bandaged hand. His body had been found over an hour earlier near a dumpster by a homeless civilian, with duct tape over his lips and a note for the Institute. The whole campus was going notes, with the top guns debating over what to do with the criminal while the homeless guy was being interviewed over the details of this morning's event.
And all the while Isabelle was staring at her reflection in her compact mirror, wondering why on earth she felt like she'd been rejected.
The young Lightwood was stationed outside the holding cell, since she was the first officer on the scene from her way to the Institute. She sat at the desk outside the cells, flipping off all the drunken nobodies' who made tragic attempts to flirt with her behind the bars. Every time a rookie tried to sneak a glimpse into the cell, she would snap a rubber band from the endless supply provided at the supervision desk and shoo him away, giving them the glacial stare that made them quiver in their boots.
"I don't get it," she mumbled to herself, glancing down at her uniform-clad body. "What is wrong with him?"
"Izzy! There you are."
The graceful woman looked up from the desk and watched her siblings trail around the corner - both dressed out of uniform but with their badges in their hands. Isabelle straightened up her back and her eyes widened in relief as she saw the blonde guy.
"Oh, thank god you're here," she said, directing her remarks to her adopted brother. "Listen, I have a question for you—"
"Where is he?" Alec demanded.
"He's in the Bull Pen," Isabelle replied breezily, pushing the strands of dark hair back into her perfectly sleek ponytail. Jace tried to sneak a glance into the holding cells, but Isabelle narrowed her eyes to slits and fired a rubber band in the centre of his forehead.
"Gahh – what the hell Iz?" Jace rubbed at his forehead, snarling at his sister.
"No visitors allowed," she admonished firmly. "Unless you want to take over baby-sitting duty."
"He probably smells like trash," Alec said crudely, wrinkling his nose up. "Is it true that he was wrapped up for us?"
Isabelle nodded and picked up a file she had on the desk and pulled out a copy of the note that had been left on Mortmain's personnel. "The real things up in the evidence locker, but the guy found this on him."
Jace snatched the copy out of her hands before Alec could get a chance, his eyes scanning the words written on the page. The written was written in elegant handwriting, each letter ending with a flourish at the end of every stroke and curving delicately across the page. Isabelle already knew what the words would say; she'd been observing the words, taking notice of how effortless they seemed to the naked eye. Whoever wrote that had fantastic penmanship in her eyes – her own writing was beautiful enough, but compared to that it looked like chicken-scrawl.
A present for the bluebloods of New York City –
A lot of effort went into not decapitating this bastard,
So make it worth our while
"Who do you think trussed him up for us?" Alec asked, taking the copy out of Jace's hands.
"Some vigilante maybe," Isabelle guessed.
Jace looked over Alec's shoulder and wrinkled his eyes. "What's with the name 'bluebloods'?"
"It's a medieval term," Alec explained. "A nickname used for members of society who were of noble birth or had royal blood running through their veins."
"Okay then, Mr. Encyclopedia. Want to explain what they're talking about in here?"
Alec looked at Jace with a dummy look on his face. He reached out and flicked the grown man in the center of his forehead. "Us, you egg – the police, the city council, everyone with good intentions on their mind. Honestly, how you survived with the knowledge you have in that pea-sized brain of yours baffles me."
"Whatever. So is the schmuck going straight to jail?" Jace demanded, his eyes scanning the area behind him, watching fellow comrades move to and fro in the department.
"Nothing's been said yet. The minute he came to, he started going off about calling in his lawyer, and since then he's had his mouth sown shut for goodness knows how long." Isabelle snapped her fingers in front of Jace for his attention like a trainer commanding their fluffy golden retriever to go fetch. "Look at me—"
"Lightwoods."
Commissioner Penhallow sashayed her way to the holding cell, accompanied by two detectives. Isabelle quickly got up off her chair and clasped her hands firmly behind her back. "Ma'am."
The Commissioner looked at the trio gathered together, her eyes narrowed. "When I give you an order to keep everyone away from the cell, the order also extended to your siblings here, Officer Lightwood."
"We're sorry about that ma'am," Alec intervened. Isabelle silently thanked her big brother for his over-protective personality. "We were asking Isabelle to get us up to speed on the matter."
The older woman turned her head stiffly. Her stare was hard and piercing as she looked at Isabelle's other brother. "I thought I gave you leave until things had calmed down around here, Herondale."
"You did ma'am," Jace affirmed, straightening out the leather jacket he had slung over a black v-neck shirt. "But I think I can handle a few hecklers or two who come my way. Besides, isn't it better to have all hands on deck? I mean, considering that there is a high-profile drug lord sitting in the Bullpen at this very point in time. A name like his is bound to draw attention to our city, especially after what just went down in Brooklyn."
Commissioner Penhallow gazed shrewdly at the blonde. Honestly, that boy never knew when to keep his mouth shut. His intentions were honest and true, but he just spouted whatever he had before filtering everything out.
Isabelle had a strong urge to slap her brother in the face.
Repeatedly.
With a sledgehammer.
Either Commissioner Penhallow was in a good mood or she decided to overlook his outburst, but whatever the case she gave Jace a brief nod with her chin before pointing to the jail cell. "Might as well be useful while you're here then. Detectives' Whitelaw and Bellefleur here will take charge on this case until a lawyer comes in to represent him. I want you two—"she gestured to Isabelle and Jace, "to take point on security detail. No one goes in or out of his room without my say-so. Are we clear?"
"Yes ma'am," they chorused.
.
"Jace, am I hot?"
The blonde nearly gagged on his own saliva. Isabelle had a serious expression on her face, completely devoid of any humor in her eyes. It was the kind of face that one wore when they were eying up their opponent in a cage fight, the kind that whispered in your nightmares and said 'try-to-get-out-of-this-and-I-will-put-you-in-a-body-cast'. Very threatening yet subtle at the same time.
The pair stood outside the door, where the drug lord had been moved into a private interrogation cell. The room was based up on the third level of the building, where the detectives resided with their many spaces reserved for on-going investigations on cold-cases and matters alike. Very few rookies had the privilege of dwelling on the third floor. The Institute was set up into various levels for the different departments existing within the justice systems; the rookies and patrol officers held their own down on ground-floor and first floor, with the grunts and morticians living down in the Freezer on basement level. Level two belonged to the forensics department, where the nerds got to play around with their chemicals and imitate crime scenes for the sake of science. The third floor was for the more experienced players, the ones who had earned their way up and had been promoted to various positions.
Golden boy looked at his sister apprehensively. "You are aware that you're my sister, right? Even if it is only on a piece of paper."
The dark-haired woman rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her paper. "Hypothetically," she started anew, "If you had met me for the first time in a club, what would your first impression be of me?"
Jace stroked his jaw thoughtfully as he pondered his adopted sibling's words. "You are my female counterpart," he decided matter-of-factly. "Assertive, dominant badass chick who likes to be on top in the bed, likes to play around but has standards, god's gift to the unworthy mortals that dwell on this planet."
The dark-haired woman sighed. Those were all very true attributes - although she was one hundred percent sure that she beat the blonde in the looks department. Isabelle tightened the ponytail on the back of her head and smoothed out the baggy uniform shirt.
"Were you hoping for something else?" the blonde teased sarcastically. The dark-haired woman threw him a withering look and glanced at her nails. "Anyways, want to tell us which guy you stayed with last night?"
"You make it sound like I have a list of one-night stands at the ready," Isabelle retorted dryly. "This coming from a rehabilitated playboy."
Jace held one finger up towards his sibling. "Keyword there is 'rehabilitated'." He angled his body so he could focus his attention on Isabelle and put on his best, most sincere listening face. "What's got you all riled up?"
The brunette looked around cautiously and feigned ignorance. "Nothing I can't handle."
"I doubt it," Jace commented. "You don't a conversation with that particular opening statement unless you've got something on your mind."
"…"
"…I'm waiting."
Isabelle gave in and looked off to the side, tapping her fingertips together. "You know Clary's roommate Simon…"
Jace arched one eyebrow high on his face, his lips contorting in a cringe. He held no ill feelings towards the guy neither did he find him threatening in his pursuit of Clary. "Lewis?" He gave Isabelle a patronising glance. "Oh poor you. Is he a dud?"
The young woman glared, her eyes narrowing to thin slits while rage recoiled off her shoulders. "Can you be serious please?" she hissed.
Jace shrugged. "Yes. I do know him," he said blandly, ignoring her question entirely. "Can't say that I'm fond of him, but he's bearable – and a nice substitute for a good laugh." Isabelle bit her lower lip hesitantly, as if she were unsure whether to consult the blonde for her issues. Jace rolled his eyes. "Will you spit it out already."
The rookie officer looked off to the side. "Does he seem like he's gay?"
Jace glared at her blandly. "No, because his sense of fashion is boorish and dull, and the guy blubbers like a dying fish in front of the ladies." Jace straightened up and his eyes widened as realisation dawned upon him. "Wait… are you worried about that guy—"
Isabelle clamped a hand on his mouth, digging her nails in the side of his cheek. "Shut up, Herondale," she snarled lowly, her eyes darkening. "I'm going to remove my hand away and you will be quiet about this. Are we clear?" The blonde nodded and held both hands up in surrender before she pulled her hand away, retracting back to her position by the door.
"Last night I stayed at Simon's apartment," she explained dejectedly. "I was too tired to catch a ride back home, and I didn't have time to ask around my social circle for a place to sleep at. Not to mention big brother Alec was getting touchy-feely with Mr. Bane. Simon said he could stay at mine after hearing my predicament and… he was really nice. He let me have his bed, gave me a tour of the important stops in the flat, gave me a few snacks before sending my ragged behind into bed. He even took my heels off, and gave me a foot massage when I complained how sore my feet were. He made me, I left his place, and now I'm here."
Jace shrugged his shoulders. He didn't understand what Isabelle was getting to. "So he was being a gentleman – aren't those qualities what women look for in a man?"
The brunette groaned. "My point is that he was a perfect gentlemen the whole time. He didn't hit on me at all, he didn't try to sneak a look when I put on one of his shirts – right in front of him, I might add," Isabelle included dramatically in a whisper, "and – and – he was just nice."
"And now you think that maybe your hotness factor has defaulted," Jace confirmed. The female Lightwood shrugged her shoulders more or less, which was as good as a 'yes' in his books. The blonde huffed and patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. "Don't worry Iz. You're still as hot as you were yesterday. From my observations of Lewis, he doesn't seem to be the guy that would come out straightaway. Case of the nerves, I reckon." Jace's gaze turned thoughtful and serene. "Maybe you were just a little too intimidating for him to handle, or it could be that you're the first chick to throw any attention his way, so he's probably a little shell-shocked."
Isabelle wrinkled her nose. Jace could tell that she was unsatisfied with his profile of the band-geek, but that was his honest opinion of the guy. Besides, he was curious to see why his sister – who had many, many, many men chasing after her, would show such a determined interest in why this guy wasn't flirting back with her.
"Don't worry little sis," he said consolingly with a mocking smirk, "there are plenty of other fish swimming in the sea."
"Would you both shut up about your life problems?" A voice interrupted behind the door. "I am suffering from a concussion and a bleeding holes in my hand. You're not making it any better with your yapping."
Jace rolled his eyes and ambled his way in front of the door. The room had a narrow glass window for that allowed outsiders to peer into the plain room, with the wooden bench and grey-wash walls. Axel Mortmain had a look of cool indifference, tempered with a hint of annoyance that was evident in his tone.
"He's quite docile, isn't he?" Jace said calmly to his sister. "No banging around, no foul language spewing from his mouth, nothing – he seems way to quiet to be a drug lord."
The grey-haired Englishman tipped his head back against the wall, his grey eyes zeroing in on Jace's golden ones. "'A man's manners are a mirror in which he shows his portrait.' Unlike the riff-raff you have collected in your cells down below, I actually have the decency not to act like repulsive brats. I'm even willing to cooperate with police if I must."
"If you're hoping for early parole, old man, then you better stop wasting time," Isabelle cut in. "Filth such as yourselves don't deserve to be out on the streets."
The man pursed his lips in annoyance at Isabelle's behavior. "You'd be the first girl I'd throw out if someone brought you to me. Too unladylike for my taste – no sense of formality or propriety at all."
Jace's palm twitched. He held his hand up as Isabelle took a step closer to the door, twisting his back to the door. "He's not worth it," he said coldly. Isabelle's lower lip trembled with rage and Jace glared at her. "Move back, Izzy."
"Yes dearie," Mortmain cackled. "Listen to your blonde comrade and take a step back."
Jace twisted back to the door and threw the man a look of complete and utter hate. He was thankful that the cell was located at the end of the hall, away from prying eyes and noises alike. "You wouldn't happen to remember the guys who brought your ragged behind to our doorstep, would you?" he asked smarmily. "I think I'll send them a thank-you card."
Mortmain chuckled, the laugh scraping along the sides of his throat like sandpaper. "I highly doubt those siblings will accept your gratitude. Maybe that redhead fiend… More likely they'll put a poor nobody in a body bag just to prove that they're not on the same side as you moral folk."
Siblings? Redhead fiend? Same side? Jace's mind processed those words. Calculating the meaning behind them. Maybe this was gang-related, he thought internally. Removing the competition in the area.
"Oh, come on," Jace said cockily. "Won't you give us a little bit more detail than that? I really want to thank them."
The old man recoiled back against the wall and nursed his hand, a pensive expression crossing his face. Jace could barely hear the words coming out of his mouth s he mumbled…"-never said I couldn't say anything about them…"
Footsteps heralded the arrival of the other Lightwood, who held several copies of paper in his hands. His facial expression spoke business and Jace nodded to Isabelle to take-over baby-sitting duty while he went to talk to his brother, away from listening ears. "Be nice," he said to his sister. She stuck her tongue out at him and leaned against the doorframe, briefly flipping the captured man inside through the glass.
"What have you got there?" Jace inquired.
Alec handed him the photos. Jace found himself looking at blown-up images of a night long-forgotten. The images were a little blurry from the magnification, but he could still see the major details; the shape of a masculine body against the balcony, a blurred figure strapped to a chair.
"These are the best freeze-frames that I could get from the footage I got from Magnus's club," Alec explained. "I went through all the camera footage, and I've managed to get as much as I could on the guy's face inside the club. Then-" he continued, pulling out another photo in his hand, "I had a look at the camera's stationed outside the club. Unfortunately, you can't see his face in this one, but it's the clearest shot of him, and you can see the main details."
Jace found himself staring at a male figure clad in red and black, with hair that seemed to pale for blonde… white perhaps? Silver? Definitely platinum blonde, Jace decided.
A thought scratched away beneath the surface of his mind, trying to break through to the top. There was something familiar about the guy in the freeze-frame. Jace switched to a different picture, one where he could see the whole profile. The guy had strong build, similar to his own, he might mention, and he seemed to have a few lackeys following behind. From the angle of the shot, Jace only saw a partial glimpse of the face since half his face was hidden behind his fringe. He had a look that the ladies would kill for, the kind that was on par with Jace's own appearance, albeit in a haughty, brooding way.
He kinda looks like Clary's brother, he observed. Same body-build, similar features.
"But it can't be," he mumbled beneath his breath. That sadist seems more like the kind of guy to just end it all in one blow, not draw it out. I need a better look at his face, Jace decided.
"Check the street cams around the area and see if you can't get a better shot of this guy," Jace said firmly. "Find out who came in with him, and who this woman is that the victim was talking about." A thought flickered in his mind and Jace looked at Alec. "Did we end up getting an I.D on the victim's body?"
"Surprisingly yes," Alec confirmed. He pulled out a document from the folder in his hands, with a photo of the deceased individual attached to the front. "Deceased's name was Jacob Sawyer, and you were right—" he directed to Isabelle. "He was a grunt working for Santiago. The guy had a brand on the inside of his wrist identical to the ones they use on new neophytes for gang initiation. Gotta say though, whoever was working him up in the club pretty much ruined the guy. Fractured ribs, broken nose, scratches on the face."
"Did forensics pull any DNA samples that didn't belong to the victim?" Isabelle asked. "Something that could help us I.D the killer?"
"They managed to pull a few foreign DNA samples from the scratches, but the results were inconclusive. Whoever did this has a clean slate, otherwise they would've come up in the database."
Chuckling ensued from behind the closed door. All three turned their heads to watch Mortmain eye them up with an amused expression. There was something in that smile that unnerved the three of them, as if he were toying about with them.
"Those two…" he sighed in a whimsical tone. "What clever brats they are…"
Jace narrowed his eyes at the old man and pressed his fist to the glass. "Do you know something about this, old man?"
"Perhaps," Mortmain said mysteriously. "It could be my imagination, but the way you lot have been describing that suspect of yours sounds mighty familiar to Valentine's brats. The same lot that cut my business here in America at the knees."
"I'm sorry – did you say 'Valentine's brat's?' Did I hear right?"
"Are your ears glued on?" The old man mocked heavily.
"You mean..." Isabelle began, pushing Jace out of view, "'brats' as in his underlings, or 'brats' as in… b-biological demon spawn that he helped procreate?"
Mortmain eyed Isabelle up with his grey eyes. "The latter," he said bluntly.
All three froze up in shock, their widening bit by bit as this information entered their brains. The criminal lord of New York – the man that had died just last week – had kids? Neither of them could comprehend this statement put before them. Their minds were going into overdrive, refusing to believe any part of it. No way could Valentine have fathered a kid?
"You think my words to be a lie, but I assure you they're true," Mortmain confirmed, reading the expressions on their faces.
"Who on God's green earth would shack up with him?" Jace said blatantly. "I mean, he's a cold-blooded murderer—"
"Actually, he just orchestrates the killings," Alec corrected. The blonde narrowed his eyes with annoyance at his brother's 'know-it-all' attitude. Alec calmly placed his hands up and backed away in surrender. "Just saying, man."
"Maybe it was a hooker," Isabelle volunteered.
The eldest Lightwood child shook his head profusely. "A man like Valentine wouldn't let his fly dangle down just for any working girl on the corner. Besides, with a face like his in his early years, I wouldn't be surprised if a dozen or so chicks wanted to hit it off with him."
"But still, he's. A. Cri-min-al," Jace emphasised, returning the conversation back to him. "On top of that, how come the department has no knowledge of this at all? You'd think that when it comes to Valentine Morgenstern, you'd make sure everyone on board the case is aware of every little detail. How could they not know about something as huge as this?!"
"Identity theft, young man." A vein pulsed dangerously in Jace's neck as he turned back towards the drug-lord, who seemed to find a great deal of pleasure in watching them argue and bicker over the idea of Valentine being a father. "Valentine's not stupid enough to let his children go out flaunting the name of Morgenstern in their everyday lives."
Jace ripped the folder out of Alec's hands, gathering all the photos' in his hands. "Swap in with me, will ya?"
The blonde trudged away from the cell, leaving both Lightwoods feeling flummoxed at the sudden change in his behaviour. "Where are you going?"
"To do some research on Valentine's past," Jace called out to them. "If he really does have a kid, then that means that the Morgenstern Empire won't collapse like we thought it would. They've probably been groomed to takeover his business when Valentine dies, so that means we've still got scumbags working on the streets."
Thank you to the following newbies for your feedback on my story:
-Accantnerd, thank you for taking the time to review, I never knew that about the author too so that was a nice fact to know
-TheReadingWizard, thank you so much:Shuuwai, FinnyNicky - you guys are great
- yes AnnieBea, I did catch that reference
- you are so right Neknais - it's so hard to find stories with badass Clary in the fanfiction world; i don't mind the typical damsel in distress sorta take in most of the stories, but it is nice to see or imagine what Clary can do with her own power. Don't worry - I will be doing a future chapter like that
And then there's my main lot: Chocolatebackground, sunsunny2 (thanks for the chats too XD), matioschka, andTIDTMIgirl1
Song: Adam Lambert - Evil in the Night
Quote by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
- Violentkitsune
