Here is the next chapter of Triton and Atlanta. I apologise in advance for the flitting between points of view around the middle of the text, and I tried to make it as easy to read as possible. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and it is early – about a week ago I updated, but be warned, the next chapter probably won't come out as promptly as this one did. I do have a plot outlined – every chapter has a plan – but if you want a particular scene done, PM me or review about it, and I'll get back to you on whether or not it works with the story that I've already outlined. More at the bottom!
CHAPTER 6 – CLARY POV
I stared at the slip of creamy paper in my hand, crinkled from the time it spent in my purse. I sighed and closed my eyes, thinking of what had happened when Jace dropped me off from his parent's lunch date thing, and what to do in the aftermath of those events.
*Flashback*
The winding streets of Brooklyn stretched out before us, the dark roads and shiny rainwater shimmering under the glow of the neon street lamps. Jace ran a hand through his already tousled curly gold hair and breathed out heavily. "What did Jocelyn want?" He asked, curious.
I frowned down at my clutch, almost feeling the weight of the light paper inside it weighing me down, begging me to open the purse, to bring out my phone and dial the number hastily scrawled on the now crumpled paper. Different scenarios of how Jace would take the truth flitted through my mind, and I dismissed them all as they were disastrous. I could lie, not answer, or change the subject, but two out of three of those go-to solutions would be even more suspicious and would draw unwanted attention to the question at hand. I ran through believable lies that I could pull off and feed to Jace without making a mistake, and selected one at random.
"Oh, nothing. Something about us being a 'good match' and whatnot." I smoothly lied, hoping that the vagueness of the message wouldn't be analysed too deeply and would be mistaken for hesitation on the topic of Jace and I's very complicated relationship.
I hated lying to Jace. It was like lying to a toddler - you felt terrible about it afterwards and the fact that they innocently accepted your lie for the truth made it make you feel even worse about the lie.
But it had to be done - it wasn't like I could just randomly blurt out the fact that Jocelyn was my mother who had been missing for ten years on a quest to find my lost brother who, with the other boys who disappeared with him, held the key to the survival of the secret race that I belonged to and would help rule one day. I bet that would go down well, along with my visit to the mental institution.
The still puddles in the potholes on the sidewalk by my house reflected the dark night sky, luminescent stars and the glorious waxing - or was it waning? - Crescent moon, the image distorted with ripples as the Porsche's black tyres ran through it. Although the original plan had been a lunch date, Amatis had kept us for dinner as well after playing an awkward game of cards and thoroughly interviewing me about my backgrounds and my connection to Jace. Thankfully with little criticism towards my attire.
Jace walked me up to the heavy front door, his palm on the small of my back an almost searing heat, even through the silky turquoise material of my dress. When we both stood under the porch in front of the door, I turned to him to thank him for the day and the lifts to and from his house, as his full lips brushed the corner of mine ever so slightly, a feather light touch that had my nerves tingling and senses hyperaware of Jace – his smell, where he was, his touch, his looks. Everything was frozen and in slow motion and my brain tried to numbly process what was happening.
As I stood frozen awkwardly, my hyper-active brain repeated the thought, He missed my cheek when I turned my head, although I sincerely hoped he hadn't, and he was aiming for where I'd hoped. He drew away ever so slightly, a slight pink hue staining his usually tanned angular cheekbones, his breath coming out in quick little wisps in the cool night air. The overhead lamp illuminated his fair hair so that it shone like brass in the dim light of the porch, his eyes embarrassed yet brighter than ever, reminding me of the manga and animé characters that Si had shown me that showed all of their emotions through their eyes like a portal to their minds.
"I—" he began nervously, drawing back from me even more and wringing his hands uncomfortably in front of him. He looked to be experiencing the same feelings I was – embarrassment, distress, awkwardness, confusion, and… disappointment? I felt a spark of hope at that, extinguished as I had to leap out of the way to avoid the opening door.
Bright light filled the porch as the heavy wooden front door swung open with Camille staring at us both, her blonde curls bouncing slightly as she transferred her emerald gaze from Jace, to me, and back again, with her briefly examining the small but growing amount of space between us and the flush on both of our cheeks. Jace stepped away hastily, nearly tripping over his feet with a slightly dazed look in his amber eyes. It was the first time I had ever seen him without his usual grace and natural confidence – almost arrogance - and with a forced smile in my direction and a formal nod to Cam, he spun around towards his onyx car, leapt in and swung the heavy black driver's side door behind him, and drove off into the night.
*Flashback End*
I buried my face in my hands as I thought over the mess that was Jace and I's relationship. All night I had been spooked after the sharp snapping sound of a dry, fallen twig in the neatly kept garden behind the Graymark household, but when I turned around, despite my fears, there was nothing but swaying jade leaves and patches of almost silky looking emerald foliage that rustled nearly irregularly with the wind.
I would have sworn I had heard voices a few seconds after I had inspected the area, but I put it down to lack of sleep on my part and strong winds whistling through the trees. There was some old movie that mundanes loved about a talking weeping willow tree – what was it called… Pocahontas maybe?
I debated whether to call Jocelyn or not, going over the pros and cons in my mind and picking up the cool to the touch phone to see of it swayed my decision one way or another, when the door was flung open and thumped the wall behind it with a bang as Raphael strode in with purpose and that endless supply of dignity that he seemed to have.
Raphael was in his thirties but was seemingly ageless to anyone who didn't know his birth date – he had had plenty of sixteen year old girls hit on him, thinking that he was only twenty or so, so he was a master in the art of subtly turning down girls and sneaking away from unwanted attention by girls young enough to be his daughters. He resembled those mundanes that looked to be of Hispanic origin, with dark curly hair and eyebrows and lashes that curled up at the ends, deep chocolaty eyes that Ella, as a nine year old, had referred to as looking life 'un-barfed chocolate' and dark olive skin. He spoke with a strong Calypsaï accent that mundanes obnoxiously mistook for a Spanish accent, because he, unlike most of the Calypsaï, was not brought up bilingual and had learned and spoke English as his second language, with Calypsaï as his mother language. He was always insulted when girls told him, 'Sexy Spanish accent. I like it,' because it wasn't Spanish and he thought that it was blasphemy to Calypso to disrespect her language (he was always incredibly loyal to our race). That was part of the reason that Valentine had chosen him to be our 'guardian' – he could teach us more about our culture and beliefs while we were away from the palaces of Triton and Atlanta, deep in the Bermuda Triangle, hidden from mundane divers and submarines by a strong glamour cast by the original Triton and Atlanta.
"And what is this?" He spoke with his strong Calypsaï drawl, snatching up the slip of paper before I could protest. He read it swiftly, his cocoa eyes skimming over the words, before turning to me, dark brows furrowed in confusion and betrayal from my withholding of information about my mother. "Jocelyn's cell phone number? The Jocelyn, or am I talking about some random Jocelyn that you met at school or in Idris who wrote her phone number and 'call me, I can explain' on a piece of wrinkled paper that was later passed on to you? Clary, why didn't you tell me before? Did you obtain this piece of vital information recently, or has it brewing for quite some time now before you planned on telling us?"
I cast my eyes towards the carpeted floor before raising my green eyed gaze slowly. "Yes, Raphael, the Jocelyn. I met her at Jace's mother – well, adoptive mother's - lunch date yesterday and it turns out that Lucian Graymark is the brother of Jace's adoptive mother, Amatis Graymark, and Lucian is Jocelyn's current partner. She wants to meet up with me and explain everything. I was too busy going over the details of last night, and I planned on telling you later today." I paused briefly, cocking my head to the left slightly. "Are you really mad?" I asked timidly, afraid of the answer and/or the reaction to my question but wanting – no, needing – to know his answer and reasons anyway.
Before I knew what was happening, Raphael had grabbed my phone and had dashed out of my room. He had always been a miles faster runner than me, and much better at navigating the complicated twists and turns of this house, so with a head start the size of the one he just gotten, there was no way in hell that I would catch him before he reached his destination – wherever that destination was. But I had to at least try to stop him from whatever he was doing, so I ran as fast as I could without skidding along the hardwood floors and down the steep staircase, thinking that if I fell and broke my ankle or leg on the treacherous, shiny, slippery wood of the stairs, I would be extremely angry at both Raphael and myself for going in pursuit of the precious piece of paper that Raphael held.
"Camille! Magnus! Helen! Come quick!" He exclaimed, much to my dismay. He raced into the kitchen, skidding Roger-Federer-on-a-tennis-court style, dialling the number on my phone as he went with me in pursuit, putting the call on speaker as the other three adults entered the room.
"What—" Raphael cut Helen off with a finger to his lips and gestured towards the ringing phone.
"Jocelyn Graymark speaking." Came the cheerful yet formal voice from the other end of the phone, like the checkout ladies in the supermarket, saying, Hello, how can I help you? It didn't sound like the woman I'd met last night at all – like a completely different person living a completely different life. So this was clearly the façade she used for the mundane and Eulysae worlds.
"Ah, Jocelyn! It's been so long - what, ten years?" Came Raphael's friendly yet extremely condescending and disapproving voice. He was basically saying, Nice of you not to call your daughter's family for her whole childhood. But he was absolutely right, and Jocelyn knew it.
A crackling gasp rang through the phone, the static messing up the sound. Jocelyn knew exactly who was on the other end of the line, and probably felt very guilty because she had probably guessed who was listening in on the conversation.
"Raphael? Is that really you? Is Clary there?" Jocelyn suddenly sounded much more desperate. Here was the woman behind the cold, calculating façade. Here was the woman I met last night. Here was Jocelyn Tritos.
"Yes and yes, my darling. But that's not what this is about, so you'd better listen up, okay? And I'm afraid, as per custom, you must visit the Triton palazzo with us. In six hours we begin the journey to your old home, and you know the punishment for disobeying the Law, especially for this long." and with that, Raphael hung up on my mother and left the kitchen without another word to anyone.
JACE POV
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound of the basketball – and my heartbeat – rebounding off the white ceiling was comforting, but did nothing to stop my thoughts. Which is what I wanted.
What I needed.
But I couldn't get Clary and The Kiss off my mind. I needed a release from all these thoughts; What had I been thinking? What did Camille see? And most importantly, what would have happened next, had we not been interrupted?
I haven't been in contact with Clary for about six hours, but it feels like six days. I want - need - to call her, text her, something. I just to talk to someone, and at any other time, she would have been ideal.
My door creaked open, with Alec poking his head through the narrow gap of light revealed by the door, his ruffled black hair falling into his concerned blue eyes. Alec was my best friend, practically my brother. I had my cool and collected façade on at the moment, but he always had been someone who could read my like a book. I twisted slightly on Alec's bed – I hadn't gone home last night to Amatis's, but here instead, because it was quiet and had always helped me think, for as long as I can remember.
"Thinking Clary thoughts?" he asked. Something flashed across his face - pain? - but it disappeared before I could really register it, and anyway, what about Clary would Alec find painful? This, I thought, is what happens when I don't get enough sleep because I'm lying awake in bed, thinking about a certain red haired girl.
"What do I do, Alec?" I sighed. Alec tilted his head slightly, thinking hard about his answer so as to not set of the ticking time bomb that he knew I was.
"Why don't you call Izzy or Ella? Clary will probably be avoiding you, but they'll pick up, if only to find out what happened between the two of you. I think..." This was the Alec I knew. Bright and full of good ideas, and as serious as ever. But it was the best I had by a long shot, and I planned on doing it. I turned to Alec, my decision resolved.
"Give me your phone."
CLARY POV
Five hours and fifty-seven minutes later, Jocelyn arrived at the door in a beach cover-up and green one piece swimsuit. Her garnet hair is salt-sprayed and wind swept and even curlier before from the exposure to sea water, making me think that she must have prayed to Triton and Atlanta in the nearby park using the Salt of Calypso that all Eulysae and Calypsaï carried. Tapping the tribal tattoo on our arms channelled our power, and we could summon pure, violet salt crystals (the Salt of Calypso) for whenever we wanted an audience with our patrons.
My family miraculously appeared behind me as I follow Jocelyn out of the house and towards Izzy's car, all of us climbing in and embracing that 'new car smell' given off by the smelly tag thing hanging from the rear view mirror.
Little did I know, if we had left our Brooklyn home roughly five seconds later, one of us might have heard Isabelle's upbeat ringtone echoing throughout the house.
JACE POV
"Hello, you have reached Isabelle's mother, Helen. I am very sorry to say that my girls are sick and therefore will be absent from school for about two weeks. Please leave a message after the tone and I will try to get back to you as soon as possible. Sorry once again for any inconvenience, Helen Blackthorn."
Absent from school for two weeks? Wasn't that kind of overdoing it? And why was Izzy's mother the one on her voicemail recording?
Maybe they were all just avoiding me. I wouldn't be surprised... Well, maybe I would be.
But I didn't know what to do. Clary and her family are clearly unavailable, and it sounds like they'll stay that way for two weeks or more. I was kicking myself for not calling earlier, and wondering just how bad their illness was for them to be off school for two whole weeks when a cold takes most people one day to recover from - or maybe it wasn't an illness at all. There always had been something ever so slightly... Off, about Clary's family, and their reaction to me at the door and Cecily in the beach house in Idris. To be fair, Cecily had been acting just as weirdly as they'd been, but Clary was awfully suspicious on the beach in Idris, and Cecily was no excuse for that. But the worst thing about the beach experience was, to my annoyance, that I couldn't quite push the flash of a colourful, scaly fish-like tail out of my mind.
What was going on?
ELLA POV
My memory of Tritos was fuzzy and altogether blank at some parts, but I'm pretty sure that I would have remembered this, even from ten years ago. I was a pretty smart six, nearly seven year old, thank you very much.
Almost toxic looking black sludge leaked out of a once magnificent palace in whisps and coils broken up into patterns by the gently currents of the underwater kingdom, and tarnished and scratched mother of pearl and broken sand dollars lay scattered around the area.
Snapped and dead coral crunched every time someone in our group so much brushed against it. There was no life - fish, Calypsaï or other, and the place seemed desolate and hopeless. The only ruins remaining of Valentine's castle was the conch shell watch tower that was missing half of its roof.
Where were the other Calypsaï? They had left no traces - that is, if there were any survivors. But there must have been, right? We weren't that weak. But I had my doubts about our current numbers - yes, there would be some more of us, but the reek of Eulysae power poisoned the water around us and made the area completely uninhabitable. And it's not like Valentine had left a useful sigh saying "TRITOS RELOCATED TO MEDIT7ERANEAN" or anything.
The glamour to shield the underwater realm from prying mundane eyes shimmered as Raphael broke through it. It flickered, briefly showing the plain, greying coral reef that was visible to mundanes, then returned to its once glorious original palace. Camille, Helen, Magnus and Jocelyn swiftly followed Raphael into the kingdom, Clary, Isabelle and I hesitating at the border before following them in.
My heart broke at the close up we were given after breaking through the visual barrier. Dead Calypsaï and Eulysae lay scattered around, dented and shattered armour, swords and shields surrounding each late combatant. Thankfully, only a couple of dead women and children were dead, but the worst part of the whole battle was the boy near the watch tower.
He had clearly been trying to escape from an enemy soldier, frantically swimming away from the war ground, but in his haste to get away he had not seen the sharp, cone shell spire that topped the tower and had speared himself on it through the abdomen.
Clary choked up next to me, also noticing the young, dead boy. Tears leaked from my eyes and were whipped away by the slow current in the salty water around us. I swam over to the boy, looking over the dead warriors and putting my hand over my heart.
"Ave atque vale," I called, my voice carrying and echoing over the deserted plain. Hail and farewell.
The adults bowed their heads respectively, kissing two fingers and then holding them above their heads in a salute to our dead; a Calypsaï custom. Clary and Isabelle repeated the action, eyes red and heartbroken at the loss at our fellow citizens that we failed to protect.
But they clearly put up a good fight, if ten years later they are finally defeated. I think that if we had been a few hours earlier, we could have helped. But if we had, then we may have also been killed in the carnage, and we are no use to our people dead.
Raphael waved his hand for us to continue to the shrine of Calypso, where a constant supply of the Salt of Calypso lay, and also where Calypso's spirit was fabled to rest. It was by far the most powerful point to pray from, and it was rumoured to be the birthplace of Triton and Atlanta also.
The story of Triton and Atlanta is complicated and intense. They were star crossed lovers, if you like - each created by Calypso to destroy the other and decide which part of Calypso's kingdom would continue the ruling after she died. But much like any love story, they fell in love (who would have guessed?) and are expected to kill each other in the final battle. But, alas, Atlanta commits suicide instead of killing her lover, and Triton follows suit as soon as he finds out. The location of the kingdoms Triton and Atlanta are the individual burial grounds of the couple, and the palaces were built over the top of them.
Jocelyn shaking her head and indicating towards the surface brings me out of my haze, and we all follow Jocelyn to the nearby island of Bermuda to rest in an isolated cove from our tiresome journey. Sebastian skips across my thoughts briefly, but disappears as sleep lures me into its clutches and I am conscious no more.
SEBASTIAN POV
A creak on the stairs snaps me out of my dreams about Ella pole dancing in a figure hugging corset and garter (I don't have a dirty mind, I have a sexy imagination) and I sit upright, listening carefully. Another creak and a muttered curse assures me that the first sound wasn't just my hyperactive imagination, but really was someone sneaking past my room in Cecily's beach house.
After I hear the quiet footsteps descend the stairs, I leap out of bed, past my door and slink down the stairs as silently as possible in my dozy state. In the kitchen is Cecily, grabbing a... Glowing knife? And sneaking out of the door. Glancing around, I snatch up the spare steak knife lying on the counter and make one of the stupidest decisions I've ever made, and I have made a lot of stupid decisions in my lifetime.
I follow her.
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The prompt update of this chapter was partly because I had a bunch of inspiration (not saying where from) and partly because of the reviewers and followers this chapter! Thank you especially to:
-mortalinstrumentsgurl1 for still managing to review every chapter, reviewing this chapter three minutes after I had posted it!
-Guest for the review
-ByTheAngelIsThatWillHerondal e for her AWESOME review! Best review yet, and it meant a lot, so thank you very, very much!
-Abudantia for the follow
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That's all for last chapter, so stay tuned and review, follow and favourite!
-Physalie00
