Devil in the Details
Izzy was not depressed, thank you very much.
Ignoring the week straight spent in bed, the worsening mood swings that had Magnus and Alec running for the hills, and the insane amounts of junk food consumed, Izzy was doing just fine. She had totally processed that her life was officially over, that she was never going back to normal, at least until the baby died. She was fine with being the reason a mundane was killed and his blood took three days to get out from under her nails. Sure, it was a little tricky coming to terms with the guy she used to be in love with turning out to be a total monster, but hey, that could have happened to anyone.
Everything was great.
It would be even better if Alec could move his work back to the freaking Institute instead of insisting on working from home. He had started taking annoying, overprotective older brother to a whole new level since the failed mission. Izzy didn't want to think about the verbal lashing, the intense stares of disapproval and concern that came the forty-eight hours after showing back up at the apartment. That just made her sad. Instead, she thought about the increased safety runes Magnus placed over the perimeter of the building, or the mundane security system outside every door and entryway.
In many ways, she now felt like a prisoner, and that just fed the loop of not-depression.
Izzy liked to feed her loop of not-depression Cheetos. Lucky for her, Magnus had a near-endless supply.
She should probably shower. Or take those pre-natal vitamins sitting on the counter. Or eat something even remotely healthy. For the baby's sake. But Cheetos...those were what her heart wanted, and she could have so little of what she wanted right now. The baby would just have to understand. The next eighteen years of Izzy's life would be dedicated to getting her baby anything and everything they wanted. This morning...this morning was for Izzy.
One look into the kitchen, however, established that this morning was, in fact, not for Izzy.
This morning was for Clary. Clary, who was sitting on the counter nursing some nasty looking wounds to her upper arm. They were oozing something black and gooey, the shapes of the red, livid lines the distinct pattern of claw marks. Magnus hovered close to the wound, assessing it, dabbing a cool cloth to the area. Alec and Jace hung back, their faces matching masks of stormy anger as they watched Magnus work.
"By the Angel," Izzy cursed, dropping her bag of Cheetos as she took in the patina of blood and gore that covered Clary. "What happened?"
"Clary went on an unsanctioned mission to visit Cleophas," Alec said, his voice tight. No doubt he was tired of Clary fucking up and winding on his doorstep with more problems.
The name Cleophas but a bad taste in Izzy's mouth. The last time they went on a mission to visit the Iron Sisters, Izzy nearly died; the Yin Fen in her veins nearly boiled her alive. Of course, there was also the fact that this particular Iron Sister betrayed her own kind, murdered her fellow sister, and supported Valentine during his uprising. Luke's sister or not, captive or not, Cleophas was bad news, and Clary was foolish to seek her out.
"The Iron Sisters are the best Weapons Makers we have," Clary rationalized through a hiss, grinding her teeth together as Magnus pressed down harder. "It's my duty as Weapons Master to make sure we are prepared to fight wraiths...and the Owl."
This...this was because of Izzy, wasn't it? They were unable to stop the wraiths from botching the vampire hunt, and someone ended up dead. More someones could have ended up dead if it weren't for the sunrise. They got lucky. Izzy knew that, and Clary knew that too. The only difference was that Clary was in a position to do something about it.
"I wanted to see if Cleophas knew if there was a way to destroy the Owl...or contact the Angels," Clary said, as if summoning celestial beings with enough power to destroy the world made things any better. "No one else seemed to have any answer, any clue as to what we are up against! I had to take the chance...and now Ithuriel is dead."
Izzy swore her heart stopped.
"What?" Izzy said, filling the deafening silence with the breath of her disbelief. Everyone else looked equally as shaken. "Clary...is that true?"
Ithuriel, dead. This changed everything.
A million thoughts whirled through Izzy's head. Was Lucifer really as powerful as he claimed? Was any Angel? Was Lucifer strong enough to keep up his end of the bargain and protect she and her unborn child from demons? She had found comfort in the thought that, if anything happened to her, the baby would at least have the protection of one parent. Now, everything had changed. Everything was uncertain, and she found herself stroking her belly, trying to soothe every theoretical worry.
"'A great evil has arrived in the realm of the mundane,' that's what he told me before he - " Clary choked on her words and shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. "He said the Owl had a master. He couldn't give me a name, not before that thing stuck its hand through his chest and ripped out his heart."
"How could it kill and Angel?"
"I don't know." Clary kept shaking her head like she was trying to rid herself of the memory. "It was huge with horns, and wings, and fangs...unlike any demon I've ever seen."
"And clearly venomous," Magnus added, frowning as the black goo kept oozing out of the wound he'd just cleaned. "I'll have to study this before you heal the wound entirely. I don't want to leave any poison inside your body. I'm sorry."
Clary nodded in understanding.
For now, there was nothing left to do other than wait for Magnus' results. He took the rag of black disgustingness back to his office and shut the doors. The message was clear: do not disturb for any reason.
Jace helped Clary down from the counter, silent and stoic, and led her carefully to the living room. They sat side by side on the couch, Jace next to her uninjured side, but he still left space between them. Alec followed, his eyes lingering on the closed doors of Magnus' office, clearly worried. They had been asking a lot of Magnus recently. Perhaps he was wondering how much longer until the warlock refused.
Izzy's stomach rumbled, but her appetite for Cheetos, or anything else, had died. All she could think about was how an angel was dead.
"Why didn't it kill you?"
"I don't know," Clary repeated, helpless. She rubbed at her sternum absently. "It took something from me, something shining and blue...and now I-I'm so cold..."
Jace picked up one of the many blankets Magnus kept thrown over the couch and placed it gently around Clary's shoulders. Clary clutched onto it like a frightened child. Izzy half-expected Jace take her hands in his, and pull her close to share his heat. He was always such a tactile person, touch his love language. Which was why Izzy found it so strange that he immediately abandoned Clary to stand by the fireplace, staring deep into the glowing embers.
"I can't believe you let her go alone." Izzy looked over at Jace, not in condemnation but disbelief that he had let the girl he loved act so recklessly.
"Maybe if you were around anymore, you could have gone with her," Jace snapped back, near feral in his conviction.
"Hey, knock it off," Alec intervened, looking between his siblings with disapproval. "This isn't the time to point fingers. Besides, this isn't anyone's fault. Clary may have been...misguided...but we have a bigger problem at hand now. There's a demon out there that can kill an Angel. How are we going to stop it?"
..._...
Lux was in full swing: the bass bumping, the drinks flowing, the revelry never-ending.
Lucifer was in his element, banging out the final chords to Elton John's Rocketman (a strange request, but Lucifer had a soft spot for one of his most prodigious pupils) while the crowd cheered him on. He even acquired a pair of oversized pink shades sometime during the second chorus. Lucifer was feeling himself, and if he played his cards right, he would be feeling up the delicious blonde and her brunette boyfriend at the bar within the next hour.
Last night it was the maid and matron of honor from a rather rowdy bachelorette. The night before it was the French valet with the nose piercing whose swallowed r's came in handy when swallowing other things. The night before that it was the entire Dallas Cowboys cheerleading squad featuring Maze and a riding crop.
Needless to say, Lucifer was on a bender. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Isabelle Lightwood wouldn't call him back.
However, as Lucifer took his final bows and stepped away from the piano, he was cock-blocked by his most annoying feathered friend.
"Brother, have you heard the news?" Amenadiel asked, all pomp and grave circumstance.
That was the thing about Amenadiel: he always had news, and it was hardly ever good.
"Unless it has to do with adding a fourth to the menage a trois I'm about to arrange, I frankly am not interested. So if you'll excuse me, brother - "
"Ithuriel is dead."
Any and all sexy thoughts immediately vanished.
"Dead?" He repeated, just to be certain tonight's party poppers hadn't given him auditory hallucinations. "How did this happen?"
"He was stabbed through the heart with something far bigger than a blade," Amenadiel said, heavy with suspicion. "Remiel recovered the body before any humans could find it."
"I don't understand. He's well and truly gone?" As much as the Chris Hemsworth wannabe had annoyed him, put too much product in his hair, and spent more time tanning than carrying out Dad's will, Ithuriel was, well, one of the siblings Lucifer could actually tolerate. "I thought only the flaming sword could do such a thing."
"We all thought so, but apparently there is something or some entity out there powerful enough to kill an angel."
All at once, the pieces came together.
"And you think I did it?"
"Or Mazikeen, with those blades of hers." It wasn't the words themselves that hurt Lucifer the most. It was the lack of surprise in Amenadiel's voice. The suspicion. The disappointment. And to think, Lucifer thought they had actually come to understand each other... "Oh come on, Luci," Amenadiel sighed and crossed his unfairly ripped arms over his obnoxiously ripped chest. "It wouldn't be the first time. You did kill Uriel."
"How dare you," Lucifer hissed, his eyes flashing red for the briefest of moments before he regained control of his temper. "Uriel backed me into a corner. He was going to kill the Detective! Besides, we both know it was the sword that finished the job, not me."
"You still haven't answered the question, Luci."
"I. Didn't. Kill. Ithuriel," Lucifer said with as much emphasis and contempt as possible. "Last night I was busy at Lux dealing with a light-fingered bartender a few members of the Mexican cartel. Check the security cameras if you like, or ask Maze, she was there, but we both know I don't lie."
Amenadiel remained dark and stoic-faced. Lucifer was tired of this conversation, and tired of taking the blame. He didn't want to see his brother, or anyone.
"Now, if you are done spouting hurtful assumptions about me and my character, allow me to grieve our dearly departed brother with copious amounts of sex." Lucifer waved Amenadiel towards the elevator, eager for him to go the fuck away. "Off you pop."
If Amenadiel felt any kind of remorse, he didn't show it. He didn't even apologize for assuming the worst of Lucifer, as he always did. He simply turned and walked out of Lux as commanded. Lucifer would have found it immensely more satisfying if Amenadiel had made a fight out of it; he had the urge to hit something.
Grief was not something Lucifer felt with regularity, but over the past few years grief had crept up on him with a startling frequency. First Uriel, then Mum, now Ithuriel. It was like his heart was twisting in his chest, running away from the unpleasant, sinking feeling that this was somehow his fault.
More concerning than the grief, or the blame, or the sadness that came with losing a distant sibling, was the fear that came with it.
Lucifer reached across the bar and poured himself a drink, the couple long gone.
What on Earth was strong enough to kill an angel?