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Disclaimer: I own nothing cept' Moriah!
…
Chapter 13: Freak Outs
Simon knocked on the door as he pushed it open. ''Hey, you guys are here?''
''We are no hologram,'' Jace replied.
''Come in, Simon,'' Clary said.
Simon entered. As far as he could tell, the bedrooms of the Lightwood Manor were pretty much identical to each other save for the furniture arrangement. Queen size bed, two night stands, dressers, and adjoining bathrooms- all much nicer and upscale as opposed to the furnishings of the Institute rooms.
Clary and Jace were by the bed, looking through the bags they had brought. On the floor with her three stuffed animals was Moriah. Simon smiled at her and knelt down as she looked at him. ''Hey. Approve of the room?''
''Hmm,'' she hummed.
''Here he is, Moriah,'' Clary announced. She dug out the Charmander plush from her bag. ''How he got in there with my clothes I'll never know.''
''Practice for a Pokèmon contest?'' Simon suggested. Clary made a face before tossing the toy to the floor. Moriah grabbed it eagerly.
''There you guys are,'' said Isabelle, poking her head in the room. ''Jace? Dad wants to see you.''
Jace frowned. ''About what?''
Isabelle shrugged. ''No idea. Just asked if you guys had arrived and asked to see you.''
''Where is he?''
''Study.''
''Where's that?''
''I think you can find it.''
Jace put down the bag he had been going through and walked to the door. ''I'll be right back,'' he said to Clary. Isabelle moved to let him pass.
''Max has little Max and Rafe playing in a spare room,'' Isabelle said. ''You want me to take Moriah?''
''If she wants to.'' Clary looked to her little girl. ''Do you want to go play with Izzy and Max? Hmm?'' Simon watched Moriah blink at her mother slowly. Then she got to her feet and gathered her toys all in her arms. ''Good girl.''
Moriah walked to Isabelle. ''Wait,'' Simon stopped her. He picked up Bulbasaur. ''You're dropping some passengers.'' Moriah waited as he placed him back on top of the pile in her arms. ''There you go. Don't trip.''
''C'mon, Moriah.'' Isabelle led her out of the room and down the hall.
Simon watched them go before turning back to Clary. He felt a little deflated at the look on her face, the one of preoccupation and worry. Like when she was in a very deep and dark daydream. ''Clary?''
She shook herself. ''Yeah?''
''You okay?''
''Of course.'' Simon gave her a look. Even if he didn't know her so well, no one could be okay under the circumstances she was in. ''Okay. Maybe not. But I'm as fine as I can be.''
''Right.'' He watched her busy herself with the bags on the bed again, sorting through them and making piles. ''What are you thinking?''
She was silent for a moment. ''A lot of things.''
''Examples?''
She bit her lip. Simon watched as she stopped what she was doing and sat down on the bed. Her gaze was in the direction of where Moriah had gone. ''We have to do this damn Inquest,'' she began. ''I know. But…''
''But what?''
Another pause. ''They hurt her,'' Clary said bluntly. ''They hurt me and Jace and her. Renage and those fairies…hurt her. I mean, she's here now and she's safe and good but…my baby…they took my baby and they hurt her. I don't even know how old she is. She's small, so at youngest one? Maybe two? I didn't get to see her roll over or crawl or take her first steps. I got to hear her first word but that's only because she was too scared to talk.'' She tuned to look at him. ''I hate them, Simon. Renage and those fairies, they took my baby and they turned her into this scared little creature who's afraid to fall asleep at night. I hate them so much.''
Simon felt a stab of pain as he saw tears in Clary's eyes. ''And soon,'' she continued, ''I have to stand up in front of complete strangers and tell them how much I hate those fairies. They are going to make me tell them what they did. And Moriah- Moriah's going to be in the room. She has perfect memory. She might not understand everything now, but one day it's going to click. She's going to realize what this whole Inquest was about and hear what I say and- and it's not fair. I'm tired of everything being so unfair.''
She looked away in embarrassment, her fingers twisting together in a nervous knot in her lap. Simon wished there was something he could do or say to make all of this better for Clary. But this was out of his power. He could only promise one thing. ''You won't lose her.''
Clary closed her eyes and Simon felt a spark of fear. Clary, doubting? ''You won't lose her,'' he said again. ''If we have to smuggle Moriah out of here just say the word and I'll do it. You are not going to lose her.''
Clary gave a weak sort of laugh. She looked at him. ''Thank you, Simon.'' They were silent for a moment. A curious expression crossed Clary's face. She looked to the door. ''Who's shouting?''
Simon listened. Fighting could be heard from downstairs. ''It sounds like…Jace?''
They exchanged a look. Both of them ran downstairs.
…
Jace had once been told that, even with his smart aleck response for everything, he was relatively levelheaded. He could be counted on not to jump the gun or overreact when things were said to him. Those things still applied, but this…
He had put up with a lot of crap in his life. A lot of shitty comments and snide remarks, especially in the past few months. But this took the cake. This was the final straw on the overburdened camel's back. This was the last snip of the scissors on a lingering fiber of rope. This was absolute bullshit.
''What do you mean I am not testifying?''
Robert looked far too calm, as if he had braced himself for this reaction. ''It's exactly as it sounds like.''
''Why?'' Jace hissed. ''Give me one good reason why?''
''You know why.'' Robert ran a hand over his face. ''In the hope that this will go quickly, not wanting to waste anymore warriors-''
''All lovely administrative reasons.'' Jace waved his hand. ''But given the fact Clary- Moriah's mother- is testifying, why am I not? I am her father!''
Robert gave him a look. Jace hated that look. It was the look of someone who knew you already knew the answer. And Jace was certain he did. But he didn't want to say it. He didn't want to make it true.
''From the Clave's point of view,'' Robert said, in a tone that conveyed he was longing to use a not very nice adjective to describe 'point of view', ''since you and Clary are not married, the child is her sole responsibility.''
Jace slammed his fist down on the desk. ''What kind of ancient, sexist reasoning is that?''
''A desperate one!'' Robert shouted back at him. ''I don't like it Jace, but I've done everything I can. The Clave is adamant. There's nothing to be done.''
A memory tugged at Jace. A comment when Clary was sick, about how they couldn't have the Inquest due to Moriah's guardian being unable to testify. They'd been planning this for a while. 'Why didn't you tell me sooner?''
''Oh, when?'' Robert asked angrily. ''When Clary was dying or before that when you both were too sick to even stand up straight?''
Jace felt his anger flush to his face. But part of him was relieved at Robert's tone; Robert only got sarcastic when he was very, very angry. ''You realize what they're saying?'' Jace asked. ''They are essentially saying Moriah is only the child of a girl who was raised mundanely. It's skewing perspective, making it look like she is not entirely Shadowhunter!''
''I know.'' Robert pinched the bridge of his nose. ''By the Angel, Jace, I know.''
Jace pushed himself away from the desk in anger. He felt like crying. Or screaming. Or killing. Something to make this horrible knot in him loosen. They want to take her away. My baby, they want to take her away.
''Don't give up yet, Jace,'' Robert said. Jace couldn't bring himself to turn around and look at him. ''Just…don't.''
Jace heard him walk to the door and close it behind him. He was grateful for the time alone.
What the hell am I going to do?
How could he let Clary carry the burden of the questioning all on her own? Hadn't she been through enough? How dare they. How fucking dare they.
Jace grabbed at a bookshelf and pushed it's contents to the floor, the books all making a sound that was quite satisfactory to him. He sat down on an ottoman, his head in his hands.
Please. Please, please, please.
He wasn't sure what he was saying please for, only that something needed to be done. Something to make this horrible situation look not so grim. This wasn't a fight against demons, this wasn't something he could train and endure physically. This was law. This was a fight against rules and regulations and people judging people for no other reason than suspicion. How did one fight against that?
A strange crunching sound made Jace look up. His lifted his boot and realized that with the books, he had also knocked down a picture. He picked it up, noticing the chipped pieces of glass. It had already been broken prior to him,
Jace studied the picture. The background he recognized. Paris. The bright light suggested it was taken in summer, though the people who were the focus of the photo were wearing long sleeves and jeans. Robert was easily recognized, and the two people next to him Jace couldn't say he knew for certain. Both blond, one a girl and one a man.
The man seemed to be in the middle of saying something amusing to Robert, who just looked exasperated. They clearly didn't know their picture was being taken. But the girl, with a slight flush to her cheeks, must've spotted the photographer and turned her head to look. She had very fine features. Like Moriah.
Jace stood and laid the picture on it's back back on the shelf. Anger was still swirling inside him. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to go from here.
The study door opened. ''Jace?''
Jace took a breath before turning around to look at Alec. ''Yes?''
Alec glanced at the knocked over books and few shards of glass. ''You…okay?''
''Fine.''
''You sure?''
''Yeah.'' His ears pricked at voices outside. ''I gotta talk to Clary.''
Alec stopped him. ''About the Inquest?''
Furry rose in Jace again. ''Don't tell me you knew too?''
''I do now. Do you know how loud you can be?'' Alec sighed. ''Is there something I can help with?''
''Do you hate her?''
The question was out of Jace's mouth before he even knew it. He hated himself for asking it- he had told himself he wouldn't put Alec in that position- but right now it felt as if everything was against him. He needed to know. He needed to know.
Alec looked at a loss for words. ''What?''
''Do you hate her? Do you hate Moriah? My daughter? Because she is my daughter, despite what those bastards say. And I don't give a damn about them but it's their minds that have to be changed. When you first saw Moriah, you were horrified. Don't deny it. I need to know if you still feel that way about her.''
''Jace-''
''Tell me, Alec. Do you hate her?''
Alec stared at him. For a moment, Jace panicked. Then Alec gave a slow shake of his head. ''No. I don't hate her.''
The knot in Jace loosened slightly at that reassurance. ''Good.'' He wasn't sure what difference Alec's opinion made in the grand scheme of things, but at least he knew for certain his parabati was on his side.
A silence settled over them. Jace tried to focus on making his heart stop pounding in his chest. ''I have to talk to Clary.''
He walked past Alec, stopping when Alec clasped his shoulder. Jace closed his eyes at the contact. His parabati was on his side. Whatever he and Clary had to go through, at least they weren't alone.
…
They had the living room to themselves as they talked. Clary's eyes looked red, but whether it was from this conversation or another one she didn't say. Jace figured she had already heard his and Robert's talk from upstairs as Alec had, but she listen to him in silence.
''We can find a way around it,'' he said. ''Maybe Robert missed something.''
''I don't think we are going to find something the Inquisitor missed,'' Clary said.
''Maybe there's-''
''Jace.'' She put her hand on his. ''This isn't some law we are trying to get around. The Clave has ordered you not to testify. They don't want to hear what you have to say, good or bad. They aren't interested in what happened to us, only in figuring out what Moriah is exactly. They don't care about anything else.''
''It's not fair for you to have to do this yourself.''
''I can handle it.''
''Doesn't mean you should have to.''
Clary bit her lip. She leaned her forehead against his. ''We'll be okay.''
Jace longed to believe that. Or, at least know what 'okay' entailed. Would it mean they would carry on their lives as they had? Be banished somewhere? Lose Moriah? No. That is not happening.
He wrapped his arms around Clary. He thought back to that afternoon so long ago, when the fairies had come. That morning, the hardest thing in the world seemed to be preparing themselves to tell Jocelyn that Clary was pregnant. They had had no idea what they would have to deal with instead.
What if we hadn't gone that day? Stayed at the Institute and trained? Gone out for lunch with the others? Would the fairies still have come that day? Picked another day?
Jace pushed the thoughts aside. It hardly mattered now.
He stroked some hair out of Clary's face and looked at her. ''We'll be okay,'' he repeated back.
She kissed him then. No matter what I have to do to ensure it, he added to himself.
…
Jocelyn walked arm in arm with Luke along the path. It was late afternoon now, nearly 'blue' hour. Even with all the memories of this country, Jocelyn still found herself caught up in the peace and beauty of the scenery.
They were almost to their destination when the silhouette of a person too far away for Jocelyn to make out started waving at them. ''Maia,'' Luke announced.
Jocelyn squinted. ''You sure?''
He gave a laugh. ''Pathetic, human sight.''
''Said the man with the glasses.''
''Even werewolves have vision issues.'' He turned to look at her. ''Maia wanted to talk to me about something.''
''Go ahead.'' She untangled her arm from his. ''I'll meet you there.'' He kissed her goodbye.
Jocelyn watched him walk off for a moment before continuing on her way. She walked along, quite content in the evening air, until she came to a more secluded part of the road, all lined with bushes. She stopped in realization.
This was the Garden Path.
Jocelyn ran down the path. Anger at herself and her husband flared inside her, their argument still replaying in her mind. She was an idiot, a goddamn idiot. Why had she said those things when Jonathan was in the house? Hell, why did she say them at all?
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the night, she saw two figures further down the path. There was Jonathan. ''Oh, thank god,'' she said. She looked at Cèline, who was standing next to him. ''You found him.''
At the sight of her, Jonathan moved closer to Cèline. ''Yes,'' Cèline said, confusion in her voice. ''Why is he crying, Jocelyn?''
Jocelyn hesitated. ''It's nothing. There was just… an argument.''
''He never cries.'' Jonathan had his hand in Cèline's, and Jocelyn saw her grip tightened.
''There's just been a misunderstanding,'' Jocelyn tried to explain.
Cèline looked from Jonathan to her. ''Hell of a misunderstanding,'' she commented quietly.
Jocelyn shook her head. ''It's nothing,'' she lied. ''We just need to go home.'' She stepped closer, her hand outstretched. ''Come here, Jonathan.''
Jonathan trembled. Jocelyn felt a stab of guilt. He moved hesitantly forward towards her, only to be held back by Cèline. ''No.''
Jocelyn frowned. ''Thank you for your help, Cèline. But we need to go home.''
''He's not going with you.'' Her face looked pale. She pulled Jonathan closer to her.
''Cèline-''
''She said no,'' came another voice. Stephen approached them. He walked past Jocelyn and in front of her. ''Unless perhaps, you would like to share whatever 'misunderstanding' led to this?''
Jocelyn saw the rage in his face and the stiffness in his posture. He knew. He must've heard her and Valentine yelling. How much, she couldn't tell. But clearly enough.
Jocelyn forced herself to breath in deeply, taking notice of the air and smells instead of focusing on her memories. The past did not matter right now.
She trudged on, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched. It was as if Stephen's and Cèline's ghosts were here with her, looking at her in bewilderment and fear and anger. Their faces were as fresh in her mind as ever, wondering what had happened that she, of all people, would act the way she had.
She wondered it herself at times.
The path ended and the stone road leading to Lightwood Manor appeared. Soon she saw the manor itself, looking virtually unchanged since the last time she saw it.
Robert met her and Valentine halfway down the path. ''Where's my son?'' Valentine demanded, either oblivious to Robert's anger or unbothered by it.
Robert's eyes flashed. ''Your son,'' he said, his tone clipped. ''Is here with us. He is safe.'' Jocelyn let out a trembling breath. Valentine closed his eyes in relief. ''Now you know. Now leave.''
Valentine looked at Robert. ''I want to see my son,'' he said simply.
''He doesn't want to see you,'' Robert replied.
''Please,'' Jocelyn interjected. ''We need- I need to-''
''No.'' Robert's tone left little room for argument. ''Now leave.''
Valentine took a step towards Robert. Valentine was a tall, wide shouldered man. Robert's build wasn't as wide, but he matched him in height. ''I will see my son,'' Valentine said threateningly.
Any restraint Robert had had on his anger was gone.
Jocelyn walked up the rest of the way to the house. She saw Robert and Maryse, sitting on the porch. ''Hello,'' Maryse greeted her.
Jocelyn swallowed her emotions. ''Hey,'' she replied. There was silence as she looked around for a second. Lightwood Manor, restored to the Lightwoods. ''You guys…?''
Both Lightwoods shrugged. ''It's strange,'' Robert admitted in an almost defeated tone. ''Having the Manor back…it's strange.''
''I can imagine.'' That was a lie, but Jocelyn wasn't sure what else to say.
''Clarissa's inside,'' Maryse offered.
''Thanks. Everything okay today?'' Jocelyn asked. She was really just wondering how everyone was doing with the impending questioning, and wasn't prepared for the looks Maryse and Robert exchanged. ''What is it?''
''Nothing,'' Robert sighed. ''You'll find out tomorrow. Everything's as alright as it can be for now.''
This strange answer gave Jocelyn more questions, but she really just wanted to see her daughter. So she nodded thanks and entered the house.
It was too strange, being back in this familiar foyer. There was a time she had been here everyday. She ran her hand along the dresser next to the door, the smooth surface terribly reminiscent. Voices pricked her ears, coming from the opened archway leading to the living room. She approached quietly, peaking in.
Everyone was in the living room. Some toys were scattered around, no doubt from Alec's and Magnus' boys. Simon, Isabelle, and Max were on the floor, the aforementioned children laughing and chatting with them. Magnus and Alec were standing by them, and Jace and Clary were sitting next to each other, Moriah in Clary's lap.
All of them were talking and yelling over each other- just a bunch of young adults hanging out. But Jocelyn couldn't hear them. Seeing them there, in the Lightwood Manor living room- seeing Clary there- and Robert's and Maryse's children…Stephen's and Cèline's child…
Jocelyn's chest felt tight. It was very hot all of a sudden. She took a step back, away from the living room. Her gaze went to the stair case, and her heart stopped at the sight of the person on it. She hadn't noticed him.
Jonathan was standing there staring at her, his head cocked to the side. His green eyes went from Jocelyn, to the living room, and back, not a trace of emotion on his face.
They stared at each other a moment longer. Jocelyn had enough. She had to get out of here. She had to.
She turned around and left, the door still open from when she had entered. ''Jocelyn?'' She heard Maryse call after her in confusion. ''Jocelyn!''
Jocelyn didn't answer her, couldn't answer her. She walked, away from Lightwood Manor and back down the Garden Path. She broke into a run, desperate to get away to someplace not tainted by memories.
And yet she found herself in a spot even more tainted. A spot that she had frozen in terror at the sight of her husband, walking toward her with the flames of her childhood home behind him. It was as if he had set fire to any lingering desire to be with him.
That last conversation with him…that last fight…
Jocelyn stumbled off the path. She leaned against the trunk of a tree. Her chest still hurt. Everything hurt. This entire country hurt. And it kept coming up with new ways to hurt her.
And now it was set on hurting Clary.
…
The sun had set and a cold evening breeze filled the air. Even at nighttime, one could spot the glittering buildings of the Glass City, twinkling on the horizon. As sure as the moonlight, the city's people were gazing at the buildings being certain, without a doubt, that no other location on earth could be so beautiful.
Jonathan hated the place.
He hated the entire country, everything from the demon towers to the rolling fields and woods by the borders. As a demon, he had just been confused and annoyed at the idea of all Shadowhunters treating Alicante with this amazing reverence. It was just a country. Now, as a slightly more human creature, he realized what he felt was hatred.
He didn't know why he hated the place. He supposed he had plenty of reasons for it, plenty of events to chose from about why he might despise Alicante, but none of them felt right. He just didn't like it and didn't feel the connection that many Shadowhunters- even the ones who had never been in person- felt. Maybe he just wasn't human enough to understand.
Jonathan leaned on the porch railing, still rubbing his wrists. He tried not to think about the flames that had encircling them that morning, but it was hard not to. His hands ached from clenching them in fists for so long. He hated fire, almost as much as he hated this country.
He also hated this house. Lightwood Manor. How strange to be here again, of all places.
Jonathan turned his head as the door opened, wondering why Maryse and Robert would be back out here. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of Alec Lightwood.
He was puzzled further when he came over and stood beside him. ''Are you supposed to be out here?'' Alec asked him, looking to the silver bracelet on Jonathan's wrist.
Jonathan spun the bracelet with his finger. It was marked with a rune, one that would alert someone somewhere about his whereabouts should he try and leave the Manor. ''Nope.''
''Okay then.''
''Want something?'' Jonathan asked, genuinely curious as to why the eldest Lightwood would intentionally seek him out.
''Yeah.'' Alec held onto the porch railing. Hesitation, Jonathan guessed. ''Why'd you lie?''
''What did I lie about this time?''
Alec inclined his head to the door. ''To Clary just now.''
Jonathan shrugged. A while ago, Clary had pondered aloud why her mother and Lucian hadn't come yet. Before Maryse could say anything, Jonathan had answered that she and Lucian sent word they were busy meeting up with the new pack leader. ''Ma- something or other.''
''Maia?'' Clary had asked, eyebrow raised.
''Could be.''
She scoffed at his refusal to remember the wolf's name and hadn't pressed for anything more.
''What makes you think I lied?'' Jonathan asked Alec.
''Because I saw Jocelyn,'' Alec insisted.
''Are you sure you did? Maybe you're just losing it.''
''I saw her look at you and then turn around. What did you say?''
''Me?'' Jonathan put a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. ''What makes you think I said something?''
Alec did not look amused. ''What happened?''
Jonathan lowered his hand. He leaned on the porch railing again. He owed Alec no explanation, but saw no reason to hide it. ''She freaked.''
''About what?'' He demanded. ''Moriah? I thought she was getting better-''
''Not Moriah.'' Jonathan shook his head. ''At least, not just Moriah.''
''Then what?''
''Everything.'' He gestured to the house. ''Moriah, the Inquest, this house. She never intended Clary to find out about the Shadow World, never mind make friends with the children of the people she betrayed. And tonight she walks in, sees you looking like your father, Isabelle looking like your mother, Jace looking like Stephen. Hell, even Simon plays the part of friend turned Downworlder. It was as if she stepped into the past. And there's Clary, sitting among you all, her demon child in her lap. She couldn't take it. She freaked.''
Jonathan leaned back against the railing again. ''History repeats itself,'' he commented. ''The characters can change, but the plot points- hell, even the settings- they all replay over and over again. That's life.''
Alec took this in silence. ''Are you like Moriah?''
''Doubting, again, Lightwood?''
''I meant,'' Alec clarified, ''do you remember things like Moriah seems to?''
''My memory is better than most, I suppose.''
''Do you remember the days of the Circle?''
Jonathan forced down the emotions that seemed to stir in him. He didn't have the time nor desire to sort them out. ''Somewhat,'' he said evasively. ''Though of course, I am human now. I can be just as biased as one.''
''Because demons are never biased.''
''If one isn't invested, one has no need to be.''
''Can't you just answer the question?''
''Sure I remember. What does it matter?''
''Was it bad…all the time? Is that why Jocelyn…'freaked'?''
Jonathan shook his head. ''No. If it had been, she wouldn't have freaked. It's easier to hate something that is all bad, through and through.''
Silence lapsed over them. Alec sighed and looked at the house. ''Even mom and dad seem unsettled,'' he muttered, more to himself than Jonathan.
''It was their house,'' Jonathan said. ''The house so close to the group they thought was going to change the world, where they often hosted gatherings and watched you play with your playmates. They didn't realize how in over their heads they were until too late.''
''Yeah.'' Alec was quiet again. Then he turned to Jonathan with a frown. '' 'Playmates'?''
Jonathan saw the opportunity to antagonize and he took it. ''Oh, yeah. Jonathan Wayland, Aline Penhallow, and of course, your's truly.'' He smiled. ''You loved me. I was your best friend.''
''How horrifying.''
''The hours you would spend, just calling my name!''
''I'm going inside now.'' Alec went to the door, but paused with his hand on the door knob. ''Can I ask-''
Jonathan sighed. ''There's a parable about an elephant who asked too many questions. You should read it. I think you will feel very represented.''
''Was Jocelyn always afraid of you?''
Jonathan turned to look at him. He spread his hands. ''What gave it away?''
Not knowing what Alec was hoping to hear or trying to infer, Jonathan was at a loss on how to interpret his expression. The Lightwood just nodded before going back into the house.
Jonathan turned back to the night. As much as he hated this place, the green paths leading to the woods certainly did look inviting in the moonlight. He twirled the bracelet on his wrist again, wishing he had the freedom to go somewhere else.
…
''Come on!'' May hissed to Fern, leading the way through the dark tunnels. ''We have to hurry!''
''I don't see why.'' Fern flicked some dirt off her shirt. ''I think this is the most stupid, idiotic thing you have ever thought of, ever!''
May sighed at her. ''Fern, please. You don't really want to tick off Jonathan Christopher, do you? You surrendered to him, after all.''
''Don't make this about him.'' Fern sat down on a rock, and May resisted the urge to groan in frustration at this clear show of defiance. ''There is no need for us to get involved in this. You wanted out, so let's get out! Hide and wait for all this to blow over!''
''I can't.''
''Why?''
May bit her lip, running her tongue over her piercing. She couldn't explain this to Fern. She wouldn't understand. She'd just mock her and call her stupid and sentimental. ''Please, just let's do this. I need to.''
Fern looked at her. She let out a breath of annoyance. ''This could get us killed.''
''You don't have to come-''
''No, no. If you are going to risk your head I might as well risk mine.'' She stood up then, brushing herself off. ''I wonder- do you think it is more likely we will get killed by someone in the Underworld, or the Clave?''
May opened her mouth to respond, but another voice cut her off. ''I vote Underworld,'' it said.
The fairies froze in terror, staring at each other.
Fern clutched May's hand. ''Run!''
They tore through the tunnels, Fern leading May now. ''This isn't the way!"' May yelled. She could hear the creature close behind them. Don't let her catch us. Don't let it catch us.
''I know where I'm going!'' Fern darted through twists and turns.
May forced them to a halt. ''No.'' She shook her head wildly. ''We can't go into her realms!''
''You got a better idea?''
''She'll get involved! If we show up to Idris with her-''
Fern stamped her foot. ''I would love to hear some alternatives here!''
The creature and it's mistress gaining on them made the decision clear. Without further ado, the fairies ran on.
…
Me: Thank you for reading! Certain snippets of Jocelyn's memories are from another story of mine, Horrible Night (though I tweaked them here, as I have since modified the story in my head).
If you have a moment, please leave a review!
Happy Writing!
