So you're feeling tied up to a sense of control
And make decisions that you think are your own
You are a stranger here, why have you come?
Why have you come, lift me higher, let me look at the sun
Look at the sun and once I hear them clearly, say
Who, who are you really?
~Mikky Ekko
Who Are You, Really?
It really wasn't like Maia to scream (because only helpless girls screamed, and she was anything but one of those). But then again, it wasn't like her to get ambushed by a freaking vampire either.
Of course she should have known better than to come out on her own, especially nowadays – with the city vampires going crazy, prowling the night like sharks in blooded water. Not to mention the evil one was still on the loose – and by that she clearly meant Sebastian. Downworlders and humans were getting lynched in all three boroughs and with bodies cropping up mangled and bloodless, the Clave weren't the only ones who had started keeping tabs. Lucian might have commanded his pack to keep low but the Praetor Lupus were still attempting to keep the peace, meaning that Jordan was constantly out there.
The worst part of it all was that she had felt it all coming. No, not the vampire, but everything else. Felt it like how one feels static before a thunderstorm. Felt it build and build until the storm was more like a hurricane that was just about to break, promising to unleash hell upon Downworlders and Mundanes alike.
It wasn't a feeling she could explain. Just like the dreams she had been having lately. Dark, messed up dreams, filled with blood, torn limbs and Jordan; collapsed in a mangled heap, his neck torn wide open. Pressed up against him in the warmth of their bed, the nightmares felt silly, but lately she kept waking up at odd hours, jolted awake by the horrors that played behind closed lids. It didn't help that Jordan didn't seem to sense the same danger she did, and was beginning to get annoyed by the conversations they had whenever she tried to tell him that the vampire girl just wasn't worth risking his life for.
She was losing him, she feared, which was why she couldn't just sit idly by. Instead she had been glad to finally catch up with his familiar scent as she headed south. However, by the time she reached Alphabet City, it had begun to rain and Maia cursed colourfully as the familiar scent vanished before her, replaced by a downpour she could barely see through. It was only when she reached Grand Street that she questioned if she should just head back. The sun was most certainly down which only made it more dangerous and she was pretty sure that Jordan was probably inside somewhere, seeking shelter against the storm because even the Downworlders of New York didn't enjoy getting needlessly wet.
Or maybe he's gone home, she thought, as she kept walking, this time in the opposite direction, shoulders hunched against the pelting rain. This is what you get for stalking your boyfriend like some kind of psycho creep.
Did this even really count as stalking? Maybe it did, but the paranoia from her dreams was waging a full scale war. At the time it had seemed like a good idea – or at least a better idea than trying to hash out another 'why-vampires-other-than-Simon-must-die' argument.
Could anyone really blame her for hating them? Now that she was a werewolf it was practically in her blood. The Praetors were tolerant; in her mind, foolishly so. More than anything she trusted Luke and if the Shadowhunters were hunkering down for war then it had to be bad. The business about the angel wings hadn't done anything to lessen her fears. It made her want to buy a car, grab Jordan and drive to California. Or south. Anywhere that wasn't this city…
Caught up in her thoughts, she didn't even notice the dark figure slip silently after her as she turned the corner or the fact that the small street was eerily empty of Mundane life of any kind.
In a blur of movement that was impossible, she shrieked as she felt strong arms grab her. Claws out, she swiped at the figure, smelling blood as she dug in deeper, finally hearing the quiet purr of laughter echo in the creatures throat.
Confusion and fear immobilized her. This was nothing like any vampire she had ever fought. They were typically strong and fast, but not this strong or fast. Nor were they immune to pain. As the creature turned to face her, she gasped as sharp fangs – fangs larger than she had ever seen on any leech – flashed towards her as the vampire lifted her up by the neck.
Slashing at his arms, she felt her spine curl as she tried to shift, barely even aware that they were no longer alone until she caught a glimpse of Jordan a few yards away, soaked to the skin and white as a sheet.
She wanted to tell him to run, but the death grip she was clawing at prevented her. Black dots obscured her vision as she fought to breathe.
"Maia!" She heard him yell and suddenly she was airborne and being thrown into a wall with a crack. The blinding pain that exploded in her head made her yelp, certain that she had split her skull open. She tried to open her eyes but the world wobbled dangerously.
Instead she heard the falling of shoes as Jordan rushed to her, pulling her close with large, frightened eyes, fingers skimming her head where she had made contact with the wall. "Jesus… Maia… Your head."
Moaning softly, she blinking back the blinding pain as something warm trickled down her temple. She wanted to say that she was going to be fine, but she wasn't completely sure that her brain was still inside her head, let alone functioning. Still, by sound alone she'd become vaguely aware of the presence of another person who was now facing the vampire though she wasn't sure if it was her or the creature that shrieked when a glowing white seraph blade separated its head cleanly from its body.
The head hit the ground with a thud beside her before the entire thing, body and all, turned to ash and was gone, disappearing into the tarmac as it mingled with the rain.
Maia groaned as Jordan helped her stand. His arms around her guided them both towards the shelter of a blue awning of what looked like an optical store. Alec Lightwood followed behind them, not bothering to so much as brush the rain from his face, looking more like a vampire himself than a human being ever had a right to. It was unnerving even to her and she was supposed to be the supernatural badass werewolf, although she would admit that there was something highly intimidating about Shadowhunters when you saw what they were capable of.
The world had stopped wobbling and the blinding pain had thankfully subsided to a dull throb. The bleeding had stopped just as quickly as it has started, though Jordan tilted her chin worriedly to get a better look, needing to know that she was okay.
"What the hell was that?" Finally finding her voice, she was glad that it no longer waivered. It sounded normal; strong enough to be able to face Jordan and Isabelle's older brother. Because whatever that creature had been hadn't been right or normal. It was as if someone had cloned a super soldier and vamped him.
She felt Jordan slowly let go of her and watched as he cast Alec a questioning glance. The Shadowhunter paused his lips. "I'm not sure. But the Clave will have to be notified."
"We could have questioned him if you hadn't sliced his head off." Jordan pointed out, sounding less than pleased, eying the spot where the ashes had begun to mix with the rain.
Of course her virtuous boyfriend would be against killing anyone or anything unnecessarily, she sighed inwardly. Still, this time she was in full support of what Alec had done because as far as Maia was concerned, she was glad that the creature was dead. Whatever it had been, even if it had once been a person, she couldn't find it in her to feel compassion.
"It was attacking your girlfriend. You could at least be grateful."
"I am, but you didn't have to kill him."
In the shadows Maia saw Alec's shoulders lift in an offhanded shrug. "Technically it was already dead."
"So your plan is to slaughter every vampire you come across?" Jordan shot back, clearly not impressed with how the conversation was going. "How would that make you any different from them?"
"Didn't she recently kill one of yours?"
Nick.
Maia's thoughts unwillingly summoned the smiling, werewolf boy she had seen in photographs at the Praetor Lupus headquarters and felt an ache that seemed to permeate over her skin like the freezing rain.
How many more would be lost before this war was even properly started? It was then that she realized that over the past year the list of people in this city that she had grown to care about had lengthened and she couldn't be sure of how she felt about that.
Beside her Jordan merely glared at the Shadowhunter though she more than anyone knew how badly he had taken Nick's death. Instead of answering Jordan clenched his jaw and turned to her, his face softening a fraction as he took off his jacket and threw it over her shoulders. She was about to suggest that they leave when another pair of footsteps echoed down the wet pavement causing both boys to tense and Alec's blade lit up in his hand. Thankfully the figure this time was somewhat slightly familiar, if not to her then at least to Jordan.
"Brent."
Praetor Brent didn't look anything like what Maia expected a werewolf to look like. He was good-looking. Pretty. Almost too pretty for a werewolf. And maybe she would have doubted it if it wasn't for the bronze wolf ring that caught her notice under the dim light of the street lights.
She watched Jordan nod a greeting before stepping towards the newcomer, the two of them shifting to the next awning, their hushed voices undetectable against the rain. Not for the first time she wondered if disliking pretty boys outright was something only she did and if Alec ever fell for pretty boys; and if he did, were they ever as dangerous to gay guys as they were to girls.
Casting a glance at the Shadowhunter she had to admit that he was pretty too in a way, though she realized that his prettiness didn't bother her. Unlike Daniel and Jace, there was a vulnerability to Alec that was impossible to ignore. Even now as she watched the water trickled down his face, Maia couldn't help but wonder whether without the metabolism of werewolves or a vampire's cold temperature if the Shadowhunter was cold.
And yet that thought that was strangely ironic as she quickly registered his murderous expression that she had somehow failed to notice before. His glare was locked onto Praetor Brent. She quickly realized why.
"You know that guy," she said. It sounded more like a question and Alec shook his head.
"No. But I've seen him before."
"So what's with the hate?" She asked. "He try to kiss your boyfriend or something?"
Maia had probably meant it as a joke but Alec remained silent for beat, his fringe covering his face as he fixated his gaze towards the black combat boots on his feet.
"We broke up."
The words were getting easier for him to say. Like saying "I like blue." "Max is dead." "I'm gay." If you said it over again enough times even words could lose their power.
Alec could practically feel the surprise in her tone, the tension as she backpedalled.
"Oh… I'm sorry. That sucks."
Not wanting her to add to the growing sympathy that he didn't deserved, Alec shrugged though his eyes remained on his boots before glancing back out into the rain where the vampire's body had been.
Thinking about Magnus still caused him pain and having this conversation again was not something he had planned on doing. Thankfully for him Maia was one of those people who were intuitive enough to let the subject drop.
"I need you to kill Maureen," she whispered instead, causing Alec to raise an eyebrow when he became certain that he hadn't misheard.
"Your boyfriend seems to be onto that," he deadpanned.
"No. You know the Praetor will try to make her see reason. They will give her the benefit of the doubt…Try to bring out her human side. Jordan's a protector, not a killer and he's going to get himself killed. When they found Nick – or what was left – they found it in three pieces." Her eyes stared dead ahead as if she were reliving the moment when she had seen it happen. Or maybe she had seen the body "He didn't grow up as a trained monster killer. He's just a boy."
"He's a werewolf. A werewolf with big teeth and claws," he corrected, and for a moment he wondered why he couldn't have been like everyone else.
Because the rest of the world wanted to keep their lovers alive.
Because that's what you did when you loved someone. You took bullets for them. Shielded them from harm in any way that was possible – even if that meant asking a moody Shadowhunter to act as a meat shield.
A/N: I. Am. Not. Happy. With. This. And it took so long to write too. I hope I didn't go too far with what I did with Maia. I just needed someone with a less confidant perspective on this whole war thing and she just had to be the one, so Maia fans please forgive me for making her a little softer from the badass that we know her to be.
Drop me a review. Can't wait to hear your thoughts.
