Happy Valentine's day! Here's chapter five as your present :)
We walked through heavy incense and bead curtains, posters featuring all kind of thing that mundanes easily fell for hung on the walls. I watched Clary as she looked over a poster with a hand, lines labeled across it. Over the top, I read the Latin words, In Manubus Fortuna. I scoffed quietly as I translated it. In the hands of fate.
Madame Dorothea appeared suddenly, popping in through one of the curtains of beads. "Interested in chiromancy? Or just nosy?"
"Neither," Clary said, almost snapping. "Can you really tell fortunes?"
I rolled my eyes. No.
"My mother had a great talent. She could see a man's future in his hand or the leaves at the bottom of his teacup. She taught me some of her tricks." Then she looked at me, her eyes narrowing on my hand, ready on my blade. I looked at her levelly. "Speaking of tea, young man, would you like some?"
"What?" I said, furrowing my brows in confusion.
"Tea. I find it both settles the stomach and concentrates the mind. Wonderful drink, tea."
"I'll have tea" Clary answered politely.
I finally agreed, knowing full well that she planned on checking our tea leaves. "All right. As long as it isn't Earl Grey. I hate bergamot."
Dorothea cackled obnoxiously before leaving us, presumably to go make the tea. I wandered over to one of the shelves along the wall. I eyed the books carefully, finding nothing of interest. Clary's voice spoke up behind me.
"You hate bergamot?"
"You have a problem with that?" I asked, watching her discreetly out of the corner of my eyes.
"You may be the only guy my age I've ever met who knows what bergamot it, much less that it's in Earl Grey tea." I felt a smirk make its way to my lips, knowing that would be the case. Mundanes don't know much at all about their world, really.
"Yes, well, I'm not like other guys. Besides, at the Institute we have to take classes in basic medicinal uses for plants. It's required." I flipped one book off the shelf, looking through it rolling my eyes at the ridiculous contents.
"I figure all your classes were stuff like Slaughter 101 and Beheading for Beginners. "
I felt the corners of my lips turn up. "Very funny, Fray."
I saw Clary suddenly spin to face me. "Don't call me that," she snapped, angrily.
I turned to face her fully, shocked. "Why not? It's your last name, isn't it?" I saw her cheeks suddenly redden as she turned away.
"No reason." I knew then that that must be what someone she was close to called her. It was like how I would respond if someone called me Jonathan, my real name. Nobody did, because that's what my father had called me. I couldn't think of a single person I would permit to call me that.
"I see." I placed the book back on the shelf, deciding to change the topic. "This must be the trash she keeps up front to impress credible mundanes. There's not one serious text here." I shook my head, looking scornfully at the offending books. Decorations, more like it.
Clary sounded angry when she responded. "Just because it's not the type of magic you do—"
I scowled at her, and she snapped her mouth shut quickly, leaning away from me slightly even though she was across the room. I regretted frightening her, but she needed to understand.
"I do not do magic. Get it through your head: Human beings are not magic users. It's part of what makes them human. Witches and warlocks can only use magic because they have demon blood," I finished, trying to drive the point into her head. It seemed like we'd just had this conversation, with Alec.
She stayed silent for a minute and I thought I had startled her into silence before she spoke up.
"But I've seen you use magic. You use enchanted weapons—"
"I use tools that are magical," I clarified. "And just to be able to do that, I have to undergo rigorous training. The rune tattoos on my skin protect me too. If you tried to use one of the seraph blades, for instance, it's probably burn your skin, maybe kill you," I said, more as a warning to her to stay away from magical items. Instead of looking worried, she looked merely curious and I bit back a groan.
"What if I got the tattoos? Could I use them then?"
The words brought a picture to mind, of Clary, her skin covered in marks like mine. I yearned for that to be real, for her to be able to fit in that well.
"No," I replied, nearly sighing in disappointment as I forced the image away. "The Marks are only part of it. There are tests, ordeals, levels of training—look, just stay away from my blades. In fact, don't touch any of my weapons without my permission," I warned, hoping I could get it through to her this time. I didn't want her to get hurt because she tried to use one of my seraph blades and burned her hand off.
"Well, there goes my plan for selling them all on eBay." I looked at her in confusion.
"Selling them on what?"
"A mythical place of great magical power," Clary said with an insipid smile. I had a slight feeling that she was mocking me, but I couldn't be sure so I just shrugged.
"Most myths are true, at least in part," I said.
She sighed quietly. "I'm starting to get that."
Dorothea popped her head in then, cutting off any response I could have come up with. "Tea's on the table. There's no need for you two to keep standing there like donkeys. Come into the parlor," she said crudely.
Donkeys? Clary said, just as I was about to give a witty retort about when Clary spoke.
"There's a parlor?"
"Of course there's a parlor, where else would I entertain?" Dorothea said, her eyes narrowing. I glared at her, not enjoying the hostility she was showing towards Clary. The young girl, however, didn't seem to notice.
"I'll leave my hat with the footman," I said, one eyebrow going up. The woman gave me a dark look.
"If you were half as funny as you thought you were, my boy, you'd be twice as funny as you are," she snapped. My eyebrows furrowed. I felt my head tilt to the side in confusion as I tried to process that in my mind as she disappeared through the curtain.
"I'm not quite sure what she meant by that," I said, looking to Clary.
"Really," Clary snapped. "It made perfect sense to me." She stormed away and I watched her do so, still confused.
"What the hell?" I muttered, shaking my head. Then I followed her.
My eyes adjusted quickly to the dimmer lighting. Stuffed creatures hung from the ceiling and I looked up at them with distaste. I grimaced as I saw the dust stirred up when we stepped on the stained Persian rugs placed over the ground. I stepped lightly, trying to ignore the dust and clutter of the room. I saw bright pink, absolutely horrendous chairs surrounding a low table. A deck of tarot cards sat on one end, a completely fake and tacky crystal ball on the other. The tea service in the middle drew my attention. Sandwiches rested on a platter near it and I eyed them warily. I was hungry, I hadn't eaten anything this morning, but I was wary of what was in them.
Clary sat down in one of the chairs, her hair clashing with the bright fabric.
"Wow," she said weakly. "This looks great." I saw her face relax a little as she rested back against the chair.
I sat down beside her, finding that the chairs were, in fact, comfortable, despite their god awful appearance.
Dorothea offered Clary tea, and she accepted, requesting sugar. I made a note of the fact that she liked sugar in her tea.
I picked up the plate of sandwiches, staring at the suspiciously. I finally shrugged and set the plate down, holding one. I took a bite of it and wrinkled my nose. I saw Clary staring at me warily.
"Cucumber," I informed her.
"I think cucumber sandwiches are just the thing for tea, don't you?" Dorothea said, speaking to nobody.
"I hate cucumber," I said with a grimace. I held it out to Clary and she took it from me, biting into it without hesitation. I smiled a little at her, shaking my head. Her stomach was grumbling and I realized then that I probably should have fed her at some point. Then I shrugged mentally. She's getting food now.
"Cucumber and bergamot. Is there anything else you hate that I ought to know about?" Clary asked, looking at me curiously.
I had been taking a sip of tea and paused to look over at Dorothea. "Liars."
"You can call me a liar all you like. It's true, I'm not a witch. But my mother was," Dorothea said.
I choked on the sip of tea I'd been drinking, looking at the woman with disbelieving eyes.
"That's impossible," I snapped.
"Why impossible?" Clary asked, her eyes shining with her normal curiosity.
"Because they're half-human, half-demon. All witches and warlocks are crossbreeds. And because they're crossbreeds, they can't have children. They're sterile."
"Like mules," Clary said perkily. "Mules are sterile crossbreeds."
I almost laughed, thinking of how a witch or warlock might respond to her comparing them to mules.
"Your knowledge of livestock is astounding. All Downworlders are in some part demon, but only warlocks are the children of demon parents. It's why their powers are the strongest."
"Vampires and werewolves—they're part demon too? And faeries?" Her eyes were shining as she looked at me in interest, chewing on a bite of sandwich.
"Vampires and werewolves are the result of diseases brought by demons from their home dimensions. Most demon diseases are deadly to humans, but in these cases they worked strange changes on the infected, without actually killing them. And faeries—"
"Faeries are fallen angels," Dorothea interjected. "Cast down out of heaven for their pride."
"That's the legend," I said scornfully. "It's also said that they're the offspring of demons and angels, which always seemed more likely to me. Good and evil, mixing together. Faeries are as beautiful as angels are supposed to be, but they have a lot of mischief and cruelty in them. And you'll notice most of them avoid midday sunlight—"
"For the devil has no power except in the dark." I glared at her. She was getting very annoying. I was trying to tell Clary the truth of my world and she kept trying to incorporate her own beliefs.
"'Supposed to be?'" Clary asked, looking to me with a slight tilt to her head. A strand of bright curls fell into her eyes. "You mean angels don't—"
"Enough about angels," Dorothea snapped at her. My head whipped around to face her and I turned my body so that it was facing her fully again. Somehow while we'd been talking, I'd ended up facing Clary completely.
I was seriously getting tired of this woman. She was undermining every bit of progress I tried to make in teaching Clary anything about the Shadowworld.
"It's true that warlocks can't have children. My mother adopted me because she wanted to make sure there'd be someone to attend to this place after she was gone. I don't have to master magic myself. I have only to watch and guard." I narrowed my eyes at her. So that's what this was.
"Guard what?" Clary asked.
"What indeed?" Dorothea said, winking at Clary. I saw Clary blink in confusion.
The woman reached for a sandwich from the plate, but it was empty. I eyed Clary, wondering how a little thing like her had managed to eat so much without even seeming to realize it. I always heard mundane girls complaining about how hard it was to stay fit, to lose weight, but Clary made it look easy.
"It's good to see a young woman eat her fill," Dorothea said. "In my day, girls were robust, strapping creatures, not twigs like they are nowadays."
"Thanks," Clary said quietly. She seemed somewhat disturbed though, and set her teacup down clumsily. I looked at her carefully. Her waist wasn't as narrow as Isabelle's, but Isabelle was—as Dorothea put it—a twig. Comparing the two, I came to a sudden realization that Clary's figure was a lot more attractive to me than a stick-thin one. She looked almost healthier. Like she had a certain glow to her due to her body shape.
It amazed me, how Isabelle's waist could be so much tinier while Clary was still more delicate somehow. Maybe it was in how her face was built, or her bones, or more likely her height, but whatever it was it just added more to her beauty. I looked away quickly as she flashed her eyes to me.
I realized that Dorothea had pounced on her cup, peering into it carefully.
"She's reading your tea leaves," I said, having vaguely heard Clary's questioning.
I leaned forward in interest, although I tried to hide it. I wanted to know what could be read about the girl beside me. I saw Dorothea's face morph into a scowl.
"Is it bad?" Clary asked, worriedly.
"It's neither good nor bad," she replied vaguely. "Give me your cup." She looked at me.
"But I'm not done with my—" Before I could even finish, the teacup had been snatched from my hand, the tea emptied back into the pot. She looked into the now empty cup, frowning.
"I see violence in your future, a great deal of blood shed by you and others." She paused for a second and I bit back a sarcastic reply. I was a Shadowhunter. Blood and violence are kind of in the job description. "You'll fall in love with the wrong person." I nearly jerked back at that. Then I rolled my eyes. So far, she was just saying the same typical things that she would say to any mundane client of hers. "Also, you have an enemy." I raised a brow, smirking at her.
"Only one? That's good news." I relaxed back in my chair as she gave me a knowing look, her eyes flickering between Clary and I. I narrowed my eyes, confused.
Then she picked up Clary's teacup again, her thick brows furrowed.
"There is nothing for me to read here. The images are jumbled, meaningless. Is there a block in your mind?" She asked, looking at Clary accusingly. Clary just looked confused again.
"A what?"
"Like a spell that might conceal a memory, or might have blocked out your Sight."
Clary shook her head immediately, her hair bouncing on her shoulders. "No, of course not." I leaned forward suddenly.
"Don't be so hasty. It's true that she claims not to remember ever having the Sight before this week. Maybe—"
"Maybe I'm just a late developer," Clary snapped at me angrily. Just as I got ready to make a joke about that, she cut me off. "And don't leer at me just because I said that.
I tilted my head up in false offense. "I wasn't going to."
"You were working up to a leer, I could tell," she said, her eyes narrowed and arms crossed over her chest. I fought the overwhelming urge to crack a grin.
"Maybe. But that doesn't mean I'm not right. Something's blocking your memories, I'm almost sure of it."
"Very well," Dorothea said. "Let's try something else." She swapped out the tea cup for the tarot cards. She expertly fanned them out, holding them in front of Clary. "Slide your hand over these until you touch one that feels hot or cold, or seems to cling to your fingers. Then draw that one and show it to me."
Clary reached out and did as Dorothea instructed. I watched as her skeptical face stayed that way. She grabbed one, seemingly at random. I wondered if she had actually listened, or if she had just grabbed one randomly. She held it up for Dorothea to see. The hedge-witch looked mystified. "The Ace of Cups, the love card."
Clary flipped the card over, examining it carefully. I saw recognition flicker in the green depths of her eyes. I felt something teasing at the back of my mind as well. I felt like I knew that card somehow, like I'd seen it before. "This is a good card, right?" She asked, her eyes still skimming over the design of the card.
"Not necessarily," Dorothea contradicted. "The most terrible things men do, they do in the name of love. But it is a powerful card. What does it mean to you?"
"That my mother painted it," Clary said, dropping to card to the table. "She did, didn't she?"
Dorothea nodded, pleased. "She painted the whole pack. A gift for me."
I stood up then, not trusting how much exactly she knew about Clary. I was tired of listening to the woman drone on in hopes of getting something out of her that we could use.
"So you say. How well did you know Clary's mother?"
Clary tilted her head back to look up at me. "Jace," she said softly. "You don't have to—"
Dorothea cut her off, fanning the cards across her chest and leaning back with a level glare towards me.
"Jocelyn knew what I was and I knew what she was. We didn't talk much about it. Sometimes she did favors for me—and in return I'd tell her the occasional piece of Downworld gossip. There was a name she asked me to keep an ear out for, and I did."
I kept my face carefully blank. I had a sinking feeling that I knew whose name Clary's mother had been listening for. I was also pretty sure I knew what Jocelyn was now.
"What name was that?"
"Valentine," Dorothea said, her gaze challenging me. For what, I didn't know.
"But that's—" I cut Clary off quickly, not wanting to reveal too much to this woman.
"And when you said you knew what Jocelyn was, what do you mean? What was she?"
"Jocelyn was what she was. But in her past she'd been like you. A Shadowhunter. One of the Clave," Dorothea revealed.
I heard Clary's small gasp. "No," she whispered. I felt my chest clench at the sadness and betrayal in her voice. Dorothea looked at her sympathetically and I wanted nothing more than to put Sanvi to good work. She had no right to look at Clary like that. She'd been the one to cause her pain. I knew my feeling were irrational, we had been here to find out exactly this, but I couldn't help but be protective of the innocent girl.
"It's true. She chose to live in this house precisely because—"
"Because this is a Sanctuary," I said. "Isn't it? Your mother was a Control. She made this space, hidden, protected—it's a perfect spot for Downworlders on the run to hide out. That's what you do, isn't it? You hide criminals here." My voice rose steadily with anger. Dorothea's eyes flashed.
"You would call them that. You're familiar with the motto of the Covenant?" I nearly snorted. I was a Shadowhunter. Of course I did.
"Sed lex dura lex, the law is hard but it is the law." And it keeps balance.
"Sometimes the law is too hard," she countered. "I know the Clave would have taken me away from my mother if they could. You want me to let them do the same to others?" Her voice was sharp.
"So you're a philanthropist. I suppose you expect me to believe that Downworlders don't pay you handsomely for the privilege of your Sanctuary?" My fists were clenched by my side in anger and I felt the snarl on my face.
The woman grinned, a cruel grin. "We can't all get by on our looks like you." I brushed the attempt at flattery away, saving it to boast about later.
"I should tell the Clave about you—"
"You can't!" Clary cried, jumping to her feet. I looked at her, shocked. "You promised," she nearly hissed.
"I never promised anything," I snapped back.
I strode over to the far wall then. I ripped the curtain from the wall, knowing full well that the portal rested behind it. "You want to tell me what this is?"
"It's a door, Jace," Clary said, looking at me flatly. Even as she said it, I saw her eyes looking it over in confusion.
"Shut up," I snapped. "It's a portal isn't it?"
Dorothea set the tarot cards back down on the table. "It's a five-dimensional door. Dimensions aren't all straight lines, you know," she said, speaking now to Clary. "There are dips and folds and nooks and crannies all tucked away. It's a bit hard to explain when you've never studied dimensional theory, but, in essence, that door can take you anywhere in this dimension that you want to go. It's—"
"An escape hatch," I finished. "That's why your mother wanted to live here. So she could flee at a moment's notice." Clary looked confused.
"Then why didn't she—" I saw her eyes grow wide as she stopped herself short. Her face grew pale, her eyes beginning to shine. "Because of me," she whispered. "She wouldn't leave me that night. So she stayed." I saw the guilt, fear, and just plain pain in her face and I knew exactly what she was thinking. Usually she was so hard for me to read, but now she was like an open book in all caps.
"You can' blame yourself." She ignored me, pushing by me and reaching for the door.
"I want to see where she was going to escape to—"
"Clary, no!" I yelled, lunging for her. I saw her pulled into the portal before she could even finish her sentence, and without a second's hesitation, I jumped in after her.
I hope you enjoyed it! I only have about another half of a chapter written so far but on a 20 hour drive to Florida that I'm going on today, I have no doubt I'll get some serious writing done!
Don't forget to review!
-Cassidy