Hey guys! Sorry for the wait but my computer has been kind of spazzing out and I can't get on the internet so i had to wait for a flashdrive from my sister and then upload this chapter onto the SUPER SLOW family desktop.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)
"Those are warlocks?" Clary asked softly, almost inaudibly. I didn't respond, focusing on calming my heart rate. If I attacked them now, I had no doubt Clary would follow. She could be hurt if she tried to fight two well-trained Shadowhunters, and I didn't want her hurt yet again.
I focused on that, on keeping her safe. I thought of her, lying in the infirmary, possibly dying, and forced myself to think that the loss of my temper could result in that once again. I listened to the conversation between the three men, only half hearing them as I my mind continued to scream at me.
Those are the men who killed him! Those are the traitors who took him from you! Why aren't you doing anything? I tuned the voice out, focusing back on the conversation as I heard the name Jocelyn come up. Wasn't that the name of Clary's mother?
"…hidden by Jocelyn."
"That may be," the uncloaked man—Luke—admitted grudgingly. "So she hasn't told you where it is yet?"
"She has not regained consciousness," one of the cloaked me said. I looked at him more closely, trying to remember all the details to report to Hodge later. "Valentine is disappointed. He was looking forward to their reunion."
"I'm sure she didn't reciprocate the sentiment," Luke said bitterly.
"Jealous, Graymark? Perhaps you no longer feel about her the way you used to."
I could see Clary's hands shaking and longed to put mind over them to steady hers. I saw her clasp them together and the shaking slowed, although it didn't cease.
"I never felt any way about her, particularly. Two Shadowhunters, exiled from their own kind, you can see why we might band together." Exiled? "But I'm not going to try to interfere with Valentine's plans for her, if that's what he's worried about."
I didn't like this at all. Valentine? Valentine was dead. Dead and in the ground. But here these three men are, talking about him like he was alive. The most deadly criminal of the Shadow World was alive. And he had Clary's mother.
"I wouldn't say he was worried. More curious. We all wondered if you were still alive." All? I didn't like the sound of that. "Still recognizably human." I narrowed my eyes. None of this made sense. What did they mean, human?
"And?"
"You seem well enough," the man, Pangborn, said. Then he changed the topic rapidly. "There was a child, wasn't there? A girl." Luke looked surprised.
"What?"
"Don't play dumb," the other man, who had remained silent until now, growled. "We know the bitch had a daughter. They found photos of her in the apartment, a bedroom—"
I felt dread rush up in me. It was one thing for them to have Clary's mother. But now we were sure that they knew of Clary herself. I promised then, silently, that I would protect Clary at all costs. She was getting pulled into a dangerous place. Something was going on here. Valentine had returned, and it seemed like Clary was caught right up in the middle because of her mother.
"I thought you were asking of children of mine," Luke said, cutting off the man. "Yes, Jocelyn had a daughter. Clarissa. I assume she's run off. Did Valentine send you to find her?"
"Not us, but he is looking."
It felt like my stomach had dropped to the floor. Valentine, the man who slaughtered hundreds of innocents, was looking for Clary. "We could search this place."
"I wouldn't advise it," Luke said, his face gone deadly cold. "What makes you think she's still alive? I thought Valentine sent Raveners to scour the place. Enough Ravener poison and most people will crumble away to ashes, leave no trace behind." I felt suspicious then. He knew that she wasn't dead. She had called him. But maybe he assumed she'd gone back to the apartment after the call.
It would make sense from his point of view. She had nobody else, she was alone and scared. It would make sense that she would go back to her home. But he didn't know that we were here for her, that the Shadowhunters had found her before anything that bad could happen.
"There was a dead Ravener. It made Valentine suspicious."
"Everything makes Valentine suspicious." I raised a brow. He was talking about the man like he knew him personally. "Maybe Jocelyn killed it. She was certainly capable."
"Maybe," the quieter man said reluctantly. Luke shrugged then.
"Look, I've got no idea where the girl is, but for what it's worth, I'd guess she's dead." I felt Clary flinch slightly by my side at the uncaring tone in his voice and my fist clenched. I wanted to hit him.
"Anyway, she's not much of a danger. She's fifteen years old, she's never heard of Valentine, and she doesn't believe in demons." I nearly laughed out loud. She may not believe in all that, but she did kill a Ravener with just a sensor. Not dangerous? Bullshit.
"A fortunate child," one of the men chuckled.
"Not anymore," Luke said bitterly.
"You sound angry, Lucian," Blackwell observed.
"I'm not angry, I'm exasperated. I'm not planning on interfering with Valentine's plans, so you understand that? I'm not a fool." Liar. You're most definitely a fool. Talking about Clary like that was dangerous with me in the room.
I furrowed my brows at the thought. For one, the man didn't even know I was here. And for two, why the hell was it dangerous to insult Clary?
"Really? It's nice to see that you've developed a healthy respect for your own skin over the years, Lucian. You weren't always so pragmatic." I scowled. It was disgusting, how he was turning his back on Clary when she was clearly in danger for 'his own skin'.
"You do know, that we'd trade her, Jocelyn, for the cup? Safely delivered right to your door. That's a promise from Valentine himself."
"I know. I'm not interested." Clary flinched again, as though she'd been slapped. "I don't know where your precious cup is, and I don't want to get involved in your politics. I hate Valentine, but I respect him." Coward, I spat in my head, wishing I was standing in front of the man to really say it. "I know he'll mow down everyone in his path. I intend to be out of his way when it happens. He's a monster—a killing machine."
"Look who's talking," one man snarled. I spun the Wayland ring on my finger thoughtfully. Luke was hiding something. Maybe he'd massacred someone's family. That would explain the animosity between the men.
"I take it these are your preparations for removing yourself from Valentine's path? Getting out of town, Lucian?" the man with an odd moustache asked suspiciously.
"Going to the country," Luke—or Lucian?—said affirmatively. "I plan to lay low for a while."
"We could stop you. Make you stay," Blackwell said calmly.
A sinister, nearly feral smile crossed Luke's face and I felt a sudden inkling of familiarity leak into my head. I now had a suspicion about this Luke. I narrowed my eyes at the look in his eyes. It was animalistic in the most bare of ways. It was a look I'd only seen on certain individuals, and I'd almost immediately put those down due to naughty behavior. Werewolves.
Was Luke a werewolf? But why would he have seraph blades if he wasn't a Shadowhunter? Why wouldn't he have marks if he was a Shadowhunter?
"You could try," Luke growled, snapping me back from my speculations.
The men looked at each other, one giving a silent cue to the other. Pangborn looked at Luke.
"You'll notify us if you experience any sudden memory resurgence?"
"You'll be first on my list to call." With an irate look, Pangborn nodded.
"I suppose we'll take our leave. The Angel guard you, Lucian."
"The angel does not guard those like me," Luke said, sounding bitter. I narrowed my eyes, my suspicions nearly confirmed. "On your way, gentlemen?"
I watched as the Shadowhunters lifted their hoods and filed out the door. Luke followed a minute later after he'd checked over the room for anything forgotten. I stood up after hearing the deadbolt click into place. I shoved the screen aside and moved over to a desk in the room to lean against it.
I could hear Simon ask Clary if she was okay. I didn't even need to see her head shake to know what her answer was going to be. After what we'd just seen and heard? Neither of us were 'okay'.
"Of course she isn't," I snapped before moving on with the more important business.
"At least now we know who would send a demon after your mother. Those men think she has the mortal cup."
I saw Clary's eyes and mouth set in obstinacy and nearly sighed out loud.
"That's totally ridiculous and impossible," she said.
I looked at her flatly. Most likely, she was wrong. But I wasn't going to worry what she thought when there was so much going on.
"Maybe. Have you ever seen those men before?" I glanced quickly at the mundane, who was staring at Clary as though he was worried she would fall apart. I almost scowled at him.
She was much stronger than he gave her credit for. I could see in the way that he handled her, like a piece of fragile glass, that he thought she was weaker than she was. He thought she would shatter at every little thing that happened. But she wouldn't. I'd known her only a couple days and I knew that.
"No," Clary replied with a sure shake of her head. "Never."
"Lucian seemed to know them," I commented, looking back at her. "To be friendly with them."
"I wouldn't say friendly. I'd say they were suppressing their hostility." I wanted to hit the mundane boy so bad. He didn't know what he was talking about like I did and I wished he would just keep his mouth shut.
"They didn't kill him outright. They think he knows more than he's telling," I corrected.
"Maybe," Clary said thoughtfully. "Or maybe they're just reluctant to kill another Shadowhunter."
A sharp laugh broke from my lips before I could contain it. It was a bitter, harsh sound and I saw her flinch slightly. "I doubt that," I said.
Clary looked at me harshly, as though angry at my judgment. Or maybe she was angry because it just seemed like I was arguing with everyone.
"What makes you so sure? Do you know them?" I had myself better contained—although not very well at all—by the time I responded.
"Do I know them? You might say that. Those are the men who murdered my father."
I saw the anger and stubbornness fade from her eyes, guilt and sadness replacing them. I turned away before I could see the pity form. I felt her touch my arm lightly. I didn't give her time to say anything before speaking blankly.
"We should go. We don't know when Luke might come back." I stormed away and out of the house, hearing two sets of footsteps following me. I waited for Clary and the mundane to exit before silently locking the door back up with a locking rune.
It was dark, the moon hanging above us, when we left. I grimaced slightly. Night means demons and I had two people that I would need to protect should a fight break out. I was content with the silence between the three of us when the mundane spoke up again with another useless question.
"Does anyone want to tell me where we're going?"
"To the L train," I responded, forcing my tone to come of neutrally.
"You've got to be kidding me," he said. I wanted to hit him once again. "Demon slayers take the subway?" I was too lost in my own thoughts to focus on making a snarky reply.
"It's faster than driving," I replied instead.
"I thought it'd be something cooler, like a…" I stopped paying attention quickly, focusing on my scattered thoughts.
My father's killers. They were alive and I'd seen them. I wanted them dead more than anything. It would be perfectly lawful to kill them. A Shadowhunter who turns on his own is worse than the worst demon. But I knew that them being dead wouldn't be enough. No, I needed to be the one to kill them. They needed to see me and know what they'd done, what they'd taken from me.
When I realized that the mundane was still droning on, I felt my irritation rise up tenfold. I was on the verge of cracking, and if I did, it wouldn't be pretty. I had just seen my father's killers and he was talking about some van.
"Simon," I heard Clary snap suddenly. "Enough." I looked at her out of the corner of my eyes and saw her watching me. I could see a mixture of emotions burning in the green depths of her eyes, but the only ones I could read were relief and guilt.
Relief about Simon shutting up, and guilt for making him? I shrugged it off, ignoring the occasional looks she shot me. I would never admit it, but seeing her sneak looks at me made me feel a little lighter about all that was happening. It minimized my guilt ever so slightly when I realized that she couldn't stop looking at me just like I couldn't stop thinking about her.
Because even though I was thinking about my father, I was still thinking about Clary. And I knew that it was wrong. I should only be worried about vengeance for my father, not if the girl I'd rescued was okay.
The rest of the walk to the subway was silent. I noticed Clary chewing on her lip for time to time, emotion burning in her green orbs. As hard as I tried, I couldn't decipher what the emotions were. I was in a sort of mental haze as I led the way from the subway to the Institute. I could hear that Clary and the mundane weren't speaking and wondered if one of them was mad at the other.
One can only hope, I thought bitterly. As I made my way up the steps to the Institute doors, I heard the mundane make an odd sound in the back of his throat, almost as though he was choking on something.
"You live here? But it's a church." I pulled the Institute key from around my neck and rolled my eyes to myself.
"We find it useful to inhabit hallowed ground." He barely even missed a beat before speaking again.
"I get that but, no offence, this place is a dump." I bit my tongue to keep a comment back. It grated against my nerves for him to be insulting my home as he was and I was hit with another urge to stab him with something. Maybe a fork.
"It's a glamour, Simon. It doesn't really look like this," Clary said, sounding exasperated with her friend.
"If this is your idea of glamour, I'm having second thoughts about letting you make me over."
I shoved the key into the lock and looked at the mundane boy. He looked fairly dumbstruck with Clary's defense of the building.
"I'm not sure you're quite sensible of the honor I'm doing you," I said. Especially since Hodge will have my head when he sees you. "You'll be the first mundane who has ever been inside the Institute."
There was no need to let the mundane know that I was going to get chewed out for this. He'd probably enjoy it too much.
"Probably the smell keeps the rest of them away." I saw Clary immediately jab an elbow into his side, looking at him in irritation.
"Ignore him. He always says exactly what comes to his head. No filters."
I did just that and ignored him when he mumbled something back to her, pushing the door open and leading them into the building. The elevator ride was silent and I noticed that Clary was chewing on her thumb a little, deep in thought. When we stepped into the entryway, I whistled loudly and tossed my jacket to the side. As expected, I saw Church slink towards us.
I knelt down and scratched behind the cat's ears.
"Church. Where's Alec, Church? Where's Hodge?"
He just meowed and I wrinkled my nose in slight irritation. Damn cat.
"Are they in the library?" Finally, the cat turned and trotted down that hallway. I followed him with a gesture for the others to follow me. We wandered down familiar hallways until I realized we were headed for the kitchen.
I frowned. It wasn't time for lunch or dinner yet, so I couldn't understand why they'd be in the kitchen.
"I don't like cats," the mundane announced out of nowhere. I saw Church's ears pin back slightly and wondered when the cat would sneak in a claw or bite in the near future. I hoped I was around to see it.
"It's unlikely, knowing Church, that he likes you, either."
I sped up my pace slightly so I was walking besides Church where I could no longer hear Clary and Simon talking. I looked down at the blue cat with a tiny smile.
"What do you think of him?" The cat's nose wrinkled and his ears pinned back. He hissed quietly and I grinned.
"Yeah, that was about my reaction. What about Clary?" He looked up at me with knowing and bright eyes. He didn't give any other reaction and I frowned.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I swear, if cats could smirk…
Before I could get a better reaction—Church was an excellent judge of character—we were turning into the kitchen. Before I even had time to take in who exactly was in the room, Isabelle was speaking.
"I made soup, are you hungry?" She asked, waving her giant mixing spoon at me. I grimaced at both the horrendous smell of whatever she was making and the fact that this was most definitely not Alec. She turned around and I waited for the worst.
"Oh, my God," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You brought another mundie here? Hodge is going to kill you." I frowned. Did she think I didn't know that?
"I'm Simon," the mundane said. I rolled my eyes before turning to glare down at Church, who looked a bit too smug. So that's what the knowing look had been about, not my question about Clary.
"JACE WAYLAND," Isabelle spat, ignoring him. "Explain yourself."
"I told you to bring me to Alec!" I told him. "Backstabbing Judas."
"Don't blame Church," Izzy snapped before turning back to the soup, her anger seemingly appeased. "It's not his fault Hodge is going to kill you." I sighed.
"I had to bring him," I defended. "Isabelle—" here goes nothing. "Today I saw two of the men who killed my father." I could see Isabelle freeze, her shoulders tensing. She turned to face me, warily. I usually wasn't at my most sane when my father came up, so I couldn't blame her for her hesitation.
She pointed the spoon accusingly at the mundane. Clary looked on with raised brows. "I don't suppose he's one of them?" I saw Clary's eyes snap to her friend, as though expecting him to defend himself.
The boy was just staring at my adopted sister, not focusing in the slightest on what she was saying. I saw Clary roll her eyes as she noticed the same thing, only a moment after me.
"Of course not," I said finally. "Do you think he'd be alive if he were?"
I saw Isabelle taking the mundane in carefully before shrugging. "I suppose not."
I could practically feel my jaw drop when she snatched a small piece of the whole fish resting on the counter up and allowed it to slap to the floor. It was only there for a fraction of a second before Church had sucked it up like a vacuum. It was the quickest I'd ever seen the lazy cat move.
"No wonder he brought us here. I can't believe you've been stuffing him with fish again. He's looking distinctly podgy," I said, wrinkling y nose slightly in disgust. Izzy rolled her eyes.
"He does not look podgy. Besides, none of the rest of you never eat anything. I got this recipe from a water sprite at Chelsea market. He said it was delicious—" I'd already tuned the talkative girl out.
"If you knew how to cook, maybe I would eat," I said under my breath.
"What did you say?"
Shit.
"I said I'm going to look for a snack to eat," I said, slipping away over to the fridge, fearful of the spoonful of toxic liquid she held in her hand.
"That's what I thought you said," she said smugly, turning back to the soup—if you could call it that.
I heard a thump before quick footsteps followed me to the fridge.
"I can't believe you're eating," Clary snapped, sounding appalled. I continued to peer into the fridge, looking for something edible.
"What should I be doing instead?" I questioned, although I knew fully what I would be expected to be doing that was much more productive.
I heard a thump followed by light footsteps coming closer.
"Wow, he's like a crazy roommate." I was confused for a moment and looked back at her to see her eyes skimming along the plastic containers marked with warnings from Hodge—which we rarely heeded.
"What, Hodge? He just likes things in order. Hmm, spaghetti." I reached for the container that I was fairly sure was still edible.
"Don't ruin your appetite," Isabelle warned from her position at the stove.
"That is exactly what I intend to do," I replied, kicking the fridge door shut. Remembering the tiny bit of manners I had, I offered some of the spaghetti to Clary. She shook her head as I pulled a fork from the drawer silverware was stashed in.
"Of course not," I said, shoving a mouthful of spaghetti into my mouth. "you ate all those sandwiches."
To my surprise, she seemed to barely even acknowledge the comment. "It wasn't that many sandwiches," she defended simply, glancing over to where Isabelle and the mundane were talking. Isabelle seemed to be eating up the attention from him and I saw an irritated look cross Clary's face.
I, in turn, felt irritated that she was irritated. Was she jealous that the mundane seemed to have a thing for Isabelle? A better question was, why did I care?
"Can we go find Hodge now?" Clary asked, looking back at me.
"You seem awfully eager to get out of here," I observed, biting back the bitterness I felt.
"Don't you want to tell him what we saw?" she demanded. I could see her fingers clenching into her palms in annoyance.
"I haven't decided yet. But if you want to go so badly—"
"I do." I resisted the urge to scowl. She could've at least let me finish my sarcastic remark.
"Fine." I put the container down on the counter, shoving the fork back into it. No way was I risking a trip to the sink. It was too close to Isabelle's soup.
As we headed to the door, I heard the mundane speak up.
"Where are you going?" Clary looked back at him and I saw a strange kind of disdain on her face, as though she suddenly found him as annoying as I did.
"To find Hodge. I need to tell him about what happened at Luke's." Her tone even seemed as though she hated him. I wondered if the boy picked up on it, but when I looked at him he didn't seem to have noticed. Maybe I was imagining it because I wanted her to hate him like I did.
Isabelle looked over at us then. "Are you going to tell him that you say those men, Jace? The ones that—"
"I don't know," I said sharply. "So keep it to yourself for now."
"All right. Are you going to come back? Do you want any soup?"
"No."
"Do you think Hodge wants some soup?" I almost groaned.
"No one wants any soup," I said tiredly. She couldn't go one week without trying to cook could she?
"I want some soup," the mundane said, clearly trying to impress Isabelle. Despite that, I saw him glancing over at Clary every few seconds, but she was barely even paying attention as she kept glancing at the door.
"No you don't," I said. "You just want to sleep with Isabelle." I saw Clary look at me in surprise although she didn't admonish me for my comment.
"That is not true," the mundane sputtered.
I saw Isabelle smirking into her soup but couldn't understand what she muttered.
"Oh yes it is. Go ahead and ask her—then she can turn you down and the rest of us can get on with our lives while you fester in miserable humiliation. Hurry up, mundie boy, we've got work to do."
I saw Clary's eye widen and wondered why of all the people in the room, I was most interested in her reaction.
"Leave him alone," she snapped, surprising me. Moments ago she had seemed vexed with the mundane and now she was defending him. "There's no need to be sadistic just because he isn't one of you."
I was actually feeling properly admonished when I responded naturally. "One of us," I corrected. In a bad tempered moment, I snapped at her, "I'm going to find Hodge. Come along or not, it's your choice." I rushed out the door without a thought and began storming down the hallway.
Thinking of Clary wandering the hallways, looking for me, halted me and I turned back to the kitchen with a sigh. I stood outside the door, waiting for her. I almost took off again when I remembered that she could just ask Church to show her the way. But then again, she wouldn't know what to ask and even if she did, Church wasn't exactly reliable.
I pulled a seraph blade from my pocket and began to twirl it around in my fingers. If she wasn't out in about a minute I would leave and—
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the kitchen door swing open. I looked up and pocketed the weapon when I saw Clary looking at me.
"Kind of you to leave the lovebirds to it." Clary's frown became even more pronounced and I mentally kicked myself.
"Why are you always such an asshat?"
I had to try hard to choke down a laugh, afraid it would make her frown even more.
"An asshat?" She just scowled. But at least she didn't look upset anymore.
"What you said to Simon—"
"I was trying to save him some pain," I lied. I felt bad about how much I'd been lying lately, but I didn't want her to think that I was an asshole—or asshat as she put it. "Isabelle will cut out his heart and walk all over it in high-heeled boots. That's what she does to boys like that."
"Is that what she did to you?" I almost laughed at how ridiculous that was. Isabelle was my sister and it's all she'd ever been or ever would be. I shook my head and glanced down at Church.
"Hodge. And really Hodge this time. Bring us anywhere else and I'll turn you into a tennis racket," I threatened, feeling too tense to even wonder if they made tennis rackets out of anything but plastic.
I followed Church as he walked down the hallway, trying to ignore that I could feel Clary's gaze burning holes into my back. I tried my best to ignore her presence, realizing that, yet again, I'd forgotten that I'd just seen my father's killers. How could I keep forgetting something like that because of some girl?
"Jace." Clary's voice was soft and I instantly looked back at her.
"What?" I asked, almost wincing at how harsh the syllable sounded.
"I'm sorry." I blinked in surprise. "For snapping at you."
She was sorry? I chuckled, playing off my surprise. What did she have to be sorry for? I was the one who was being cruel. "Which time?" She was quiet for a moment and when she responded, her voice was still soft and the tiniest bit solemn.
"You snap at me too, you know."
"I know," I said, just as solemn. "There's something about you that's so—"
"Irritating?" She looked down at her feet and I saw her cheeks were slightly pink. But she didn't look surprised. It was as though she was told she was irritating fairly often.
"Unsettling," I corrected. I saw her eyes light up slightly as she looked back up at me. Her eyes flitted away again, as though she was afraid to say something and I wondered if she'd taken what I'd said as an insult. I certainly hadn't intended it that way. I actually wasn't sure how I intended her to take that.
"Does Isabelle usually cook dinner for you?" I smiled as I turned away from her.
"No, thank God. Most of the time the Lightwoods are here and Maryse—that's Isabelle's mother—she cooks for us. She's an amazing cook." I felt like I could be lost in thought forever over the delicacies Maryse had created in the past.
"Then how come she never taught Isabelle?"
"Isabelle never wanted to learn. She's always been first and foremost interested in being a fighter. She comes from a long line of women warriors. She's one of the best Shadowhunters I've ever known."
Besides myself of course.
"Better than Alec?" At first I thought she was being malicious, trying to get dirt on Alec. Maybe she hated him as much as he seemed to hate her. But then I noted the natural curiosity in her voice and I nearly smiled. She wasn't being malicious. She was being Clary.
As Church stopped at the foot of a metal staircase I forgot to reply to Clary. "So he's in the greenhouse. No surprise there."
"The greenhouse?" Clary asked, looking up at me as I stepped up onto the stairs.
"Hodge likes it up there. He grows medicinal plants, things we can use. Most of them only grow in Idris. I think it reminds him of home."
I could hear Clary's footsteps clattering on the steps behind me and smiled to myself. I'd have to teach her to walk silently, like a Shadowhunter should.
"Is he better than Isabelle? Alec, I mean."
I turned around to face her, leaning down dangerously. I saw her face take on a slightly haunted expression. I decided to press on with the conversation, hoping that look would fade.
"Better? At demon-slaying? No, not really. He's never killed a demon."
She looked surprised and I turned around to continue our way up.
"Really?"
"I don't know why not. Maybe because he's always protecting Izzy and me." I shouldered the heavy oak doors open, breathing in the familiar scent of the greenhouse as I stepped through. I ran my hands along the smooth leaves we passed, reveling in the feelings being in the greenhouse always brought up. It reminded me of home, in Idris.
"It smells like…" Clary trailed off as though she couldn't place the smell.
"Home, to me," I said, leading her through the stone pathways. I headed to where I knew the little pond Hodge liked to sit at was. When I found him, he seemed to be staring at the ceiling, looking for something intently.
"You look like you're waiting for something," I stated, breaking a leaf from a nearby plant and twisting it in my fingers, finding comfort in even the small movements of my fingers.
"I was lost in thought," Hodge responded, looking us over. His eyes widened as he took us in and the warm smile he'd offered disappeared.
"What happened? You look as if—"
"We were attacked. Forsaken," I reported quickly. Hodge seemed to stop breathing for a moment.
"Forsaken Warriors? Here?"
"Warrior. We only saw one."
"But Dorothea said there were more," Clary added in.
"Dorothea? This might be easier if you took events in order." I nodded in agreement, giving Clary a sharp look to make sure she stayed quiet and let me report what happened.
I reported everything as quickly as I could, recounting every detail except for who the men had been to me specifically. When I recounted their names, Hodge went pale, seemingly horrified by the names.
"It is as I feared," he said, almost a whisper. "The Circle is rising again."
"The Circle?" I asked, having never heard of it before. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good.
"Come with me," Hodges said, sounding wearier than ever. "It's time I showed you something."
We followed Hodge to the library silently, Clary shooting the two of us confused glances every now and then. I knew she wanted answers, but I had none to give her. When we reached the library, Hodge rushed off into the bookshelves, disappearing among the elongated shadows the shelves casted.
Clary took a seat on the red sofa, pulling her legs up beside herself. She seemed fairly calm while I was restless, needing to be doing something, anything.
"Hodge, if you need help looking—"
"Not at all," Hodge said, stepping out from the stacks, carrying a thick, leather-bound book. He was flipping through it in search of something and I switched my weight from foot to foot anxiously.
"Where…where...ah, here it is!" He began to read aloud from the book. "I hereby render unconditional obedience to the circle and its principles…I will be ready to risk my life at any time for the circle, in order to preserve the purity of the bloodlines of Idris, and for the mortal world with whose safety we are charged."
I didn't like how cryptic and just plain awful that sounded. "What was that from?"
"It was the loyalty oath of the Circle of Raziel, twenty years ago."
"It sounds creepy," Clary said bluntly. I almost laughed at how childlike it'd sounded, even though she was completely serious and right. "Like a fascist organization or something."
Hodge set the book down, looking pained.
"They were a group of Shadowhunters, led by Valentine, dedicated to wiping out all Downworlders and returning the world to a 'purer' state. Their plan was to wait for the Downworlders to arrive in Idris to sign the Accords. Approximately every fifteen years, they must be signed again, to keep their magic potent." For a second I wondered why he'd said that, when we all knew why the Accords were signed repetitively. When I saw Clary nod in understanding, I remembered that she didn't know everything she should. "Then they planned to slaughter them all, unharmed and defenseless. This terrible act, they thought, would spark off a war between humans and Downworlders—one they intended to win."
"That was the Uprising," I realized finally. I'd heard that story countless times throughout my life. "I didn't know Valentine and his followers had a name."
Hodge nodded. "The name isn't spoken often nowadays. Their existence remains an embarrassment to the Clave. Most documents pertaining to them have been destroyed." I narrowed my eyes, suddenly suspicious.
"Then why do you have a copy of that oath?"
"Because," Hodge responded mournfully. "I helped write it."
I felt as though the world was shaking around me. Hodge?
"You were in the Circle."
"I was," he admitted. "Many of us were." He wasn't looking at me, wasn't really looking at anything. "Clary's mother as well."
I saw Clary, out of the corner of my eye, flinch as though Hodge had physically hit her instead of speaking.
"What?"
"I said—"
"I know what you said!" Clary snapped, almost shouting. "My mother would never have belonged to something like that. Some kind of—some kind of hate group."
"It wasn't—" I tried to say, but Hodge cut me off.
"I doubt that she had much of a choice."
Clary was silent for a second before responding, her voice quieter.
"What are you talking about? Why wouldn't she have a choice?"
Hodge looked at her sympathetically before responding.
"Because, she was Valentine's wife."
Hope you liked it! Don't forget to review if you did :)
-Cassidy