Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Isabelle is being followed by a certain vampire. But when her stalker saves her life will she learn to be grateful, or will the consequences lead her into a world of dark desire?
I know it's been a while, but hopefully this loooooong chapter will make up for it :D
Thanks for all the great reviews! To Meghan Delano: Funny you should ask! Yes I am updating ;) Thanks!
. . .
Haunted
"All I ever wanted,
All I ever needed,
Is here, in my arms . . ."
- Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode –
Chapter 7 | Enjoy the Silence
She knew meeting Raphael would be a bad idea.
What were once daydreams, mere passing thoughts gradually turn to obsession until Raphael, his brown eyes, his monotonous voice consumes Isabelle's every thought. She cannot concentrate on anything but the memory of him. Everything reminds her of him.
She still hears him sometimes – though it is evident that the longer she stays away from Raphael the more distant his voice seems to become. But still his soft voice calls to her and more than once, when she is drifting into sleep or when her mind is too far gone thinking about him to notice, Isabelle will find herself calling back.
This . . . fixation she has. It is border-lining on unhealthy.
Her appetite is still wavering and anything Isabelle does eat has an unnatural metallic taste and she finds that she cannot hold it down.
Isabelle's already lean form appears gaunter by the day and she noticeably cringes when Clary – of all people – is the one to call her out on her outward appearance with an "are you okay, Isabelle? You look at bit peaky."
Isabelle brushes her off with some lame comment about how she thinks she's developing the flu – yeah, right. Like that would stop her – before her thoughts return once more to Raphael.
It has been three weeks now since their meeting in the park and Isabelle realises that she can't keep blaming the voices in her head – not to mention her slight emotional breakdown – on Raphael's blood. Simon never heard voices and from what Raphael suggested the blood should be out of her system by now.
Isabelle is unsurprised. Maybe, subconsciously, in the back of her mind she always suspected that his voice had nothing to do with his blood. Maybe that was why she was so freaked out.
The only question is what to do about it now. And why won't it go away?
. . .
It is a god damn miracle that Simon didn't tell Alec about Raphael.
For the past week Isabelle has been avoiding her brother like the plague – a feat she now deems unnecessary as not one hour ago Alec had cornered her in the kitchen, demanding to know, "what it is you can tell Simon that you can't tell me?"
(The phone message from Simon, Isabelle had been avoiding listening to, later confirmed that, in fact, Simon hadn't told Alec a thing. Despite how many times her brother had threatened to punch his face in.)
She had answered Alec with a hard-faced, "None of your business, Alec," before escaping to her room, where she now lays on her bed, torn between the urges to both laugh and cry.
A part of her is relieved. Isabelle cannot bear the thought of her big brother thinking badly of her. And if he were to find out about Raphael, he would think badly of her.
Another part of her thinks that, if he knew, then at least she wouldn't have to pretend anymore.
. . .
Later that day, when her mother tells her and a disgruntled Alec that the family needs to head out for a while, Isabelle's stomach churns. A feeling which intensifies tenfold when Maryse tells her where they are going.
Jace – the lucky bastard – is out when their parents tell them so he doesn't have to tag along. She envies him sometimes.
Isabelle has that horrible feeling again – the unpleasant churning in her stomach she experiences whenever a certain vampire is around – as the Dumont Hotel looms over her, the humid night air caressing her slim form.
"Erm . . . Mom?" she coughs in an attempt to dispel the lump in her throat, "why are we here?"
"Oh, well," her mother charges forward and Isabelle thinks that the click clack of Maryse's obnoxious heels sounds strangely louder than usual. Or perhaps it is just the drumming of her own heart beat.
Her father and Alec are already pacing ahead, the shadows cast in the dim night swallowing their figures whole until Isabelle can no longer see them.
"You remember what I told you about vampires and Shadowhunters disappearing?" Maryse continues. Isabelle just nods, clenching her fists together when she realises that they are shaking, "Well, I need to speak to Raphael about it and he refuses to take my calls. So, going to see him seems to be the only way."
Those last words hit Isabelle like a slap in the face and she thinks back to the night she was attacked: the blood. It's the only way . . .
Isabelle asks no more on the matter, choosing instead to hang her hand and carry on trudging down the dark, deserted street.
There is no point being so nervous, she tells herself, you are going to see him whether you want to or not.
She has not seen or heard from Raphael since the night in the park, three weeks ago. The night he had promised to "be there" for her. Isabelle realises now that that was a load of crap. She doesn't mind. She hadn't trusted him in the first place.
The Dumont is a curious place, Isabelle thinks, all high ceilings and stone slabs and oak, double doors, not unlike the Institute. But vampires aren't exactly prided on their house keeping skills and the building is run down – the windows are boarded up, wooden doors worn down by termites and every inch of the stone brick work is covered in a layer of thick, mossy green.
Her father and Alec are standing outside the entrance, their clean clothes looking very out of place.
When Isabelle and her mother finally reach Robert and Alec she puts a smile on her face, wanting desperately for her sombre mood to go unnoticed. Her parents remain oblivious – as per usual – but it is obvious, from the frown creasing his forehead, that Alec knows something is up.
She shakes her head, giving him a pointed look when he stares at her questioningly, and looks away.
When did he become so damn observant anyway?
A loud knock draws her attention then, and Isabelle turns just in time to see her mother knock once again on the oak doors.
They wait close to ten minutes before the doors finally open and Raphael – polite and punctual as always – appears. He stands in the doorway and regards her family with his typically bored expression, but Isabelle notices how it changes slightly when he looks at her, eyes lingering on her form for longer than necessary.
She turns away from his intense stare, and pulls her coat around her tighter, despite the warm night.
"Maryse," he practically sings her mother's name – Isabelle revels in how ridiculous it is that she feels slightly jealous at the fact, "a pleasure, as always," and though she is not looking at him Isabelle can picture him in her mind's eye as he says the words; smooth voice caressing each syllable.
Her eyes flutter closed at the sound.
"Ah, you brought the whole family," it is a wonder that Maryse hasn't interrupted him yet, "the husband," Isabelle's eyes flicker to her father – his expression is stony but he doesn't say a word, "and the offspring."
Isabelle chooses that time to look up and she does so, just in time to see Raphael's brown eyes move from her brother to her. He looks at her so intensely – eyes like melted, pools of milk chocolate – that she almost chokes.
"Isabelle," her name rolls of off his tongue – no change there – and though part of her loves the sound – which is ridiculous. He's an ass – as her whole family turn to her with equally suspicious looks, a part wishes he hadn't.
"Hello," she whispers in acknowledgement, before returning her gaze to the ground.
Her mother clears her throat then, and begins talking, but Isabelle can still feel her brother's eyes burning holes in her skull.
. . .
"Maryse, that is quite possibly the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard."
"Don't be so melodramatic. He needs to be stopped-"
"We're not even sure that he's the killer yet and you want to go in there, guns blazing? I thought you were supposed to be smart . . ."
Isabelle is bored out of her mind; it really is no wonder that now, after two hours discussing the same damn topic, she and Alec for that matter, are about ready to fall asleep.
She almost considers sitting down – because a Shadowhunter, as agile as they are, cannot stand for two hours without getting leg cramp – but she takes one look at the dirty ground beneath her feet and decides against it.
They had moved here not long after arriving at the Dumont; a large, open space around the other side of the building, in which Raphael said it would be safe for them to talk.
Without the preying eyes and ears of the other vampires, no doubt.
The rusted, metal walls had at first made Isabelle think that this room was once a garage – the open plan design and faint smell of gasoline supporting her theory – but after noticing the questionable amount of hay lining the asphalt ground she had concluded that it might also have been a barn.
Though, by the Angel, who knows why either one of those would be needed at a hotel.
Truth is, she doesn't care. Her study of the room is just an excuse to keep her eyes and her mind busy. If she keeps her eyes busy she doesn't have to look at Raphael. If she keeps her mind busy she doesn't have to think about him.
Perfect.
And then of course, her mother has to go and foil her plan.
"-I left the files in my car. Robert, come with me?"
Isabelle's head snaps up at that. They're going where?
She does not have time to question it, because so sooner than her mother has said the words, "Alec, Isabelle, stay here," Maryse is out the door, Robert trailing in her wake.
The room falls silent.
Strangely, Isabelle wants to cry with relief because, even with the awkward silence filling the air, and the fact that she can see Raphael looking at her form the corner of her eye, Alec is here.
She knew she loved him for a reason.
She turns to her brother at the same time he turns to her, sapphire blue eyes hard – he is still angry with her. He opens his mouth to say something, but then-
Beep. Beep.
-his phone rings.
For a time, Isabelle holds her breath – praying that whoever is calling is one of the many stuck-up, overbearing people that Alec hates, and that he will not answer – but then he checks the caller ID, mouth stretching into a grin and her heart plummets.
Of course. Just my luck.
"It's Magnus," Alec states, like that is the answer to everything and, just like that, he is gone.
Moments pass in silence, and Isabelle shuffles her feet, uncomfortable, praying to whatever higher power there is that Raphael will just ignore her because she does not have the energy to deal with him right now.
"You're looking very pretty today, Isabelle."
Isabelle Lightwood is used to receiving compliments. So why does this one bring a blush to her cheeks?
"Um, thank you," she spares him half a glance, before looking down again.
"Oh," Raphael continues, something patronising about his tone that makes Isabelle look up, "Are we back to this?"
"I'm sorry?" she asks, and he gives her a slight smirk, eyes glistening with mirth.
"This, acting shy around me and pretending we don't know each other."
His brutal honesty never fails to stun her.
"I am not . . ." she begins indignantly, before trailing off, ". . . shy."
Raphael's satisfied smirk sparks her annoyance and Isabelle rolls her eyes.
"You don't have to tell me twice."
Isabelle turns to him . . . and immediately regrets it. He is looking at her again and in that moment – the dim light in the barn casting shadows on his face, an unnatural glint in his brown eyes – he looks so not human that Isabelle's throat tightens painfully and she has to swallow the feeling down.
She doesn't miss the way Raphael's forehead creases into a slight frown at the action.
Isabelle attempts once again to ignore him but, of course, Raphael is having none of it.
"I do wonder though, why you came."
She regards him with an expression as if to say "what are you, stupid?" but answers him anyway.
"We're on Clave business. My parents forced me here-"
"Oh Isabelle, don't lie to yourself, we both know that no-one could ever force you into anything."
Isabelle feels a swell of pride at that, but it is outweighed by anger at whatever it is Raphael is insinuating.
"Like I said: Clave business-"
"Lies!" Isabelle balls her hands into fist because, so help her, she is going to punch something if he does not stop interrupting her.
"Just admit it, Isabelle."
"Admit what?"
"That when Maryse and Robert asked you to come here, you agreed because you wanted to see me."
Truthfully, when her parents had asked her Isabelle's first thought had been "how do I get out of this?" – but no matter how hard she tries to deny it, she cannot forget the feeling of longing that had come with it.
"No."
She answers too quickly and she can tell from the look on Raphael's face that he does not believe her.
"I thought so . . ."
They linger in silence a while, but then her mother and father return, Alec following soon after, and she has never loved them more.
Maryse waltzes up, extending her to Raphael and he takes the file from her hand carefully, as if he thinks it might be contaminated.
Isabelle rolls her eyes.
"Excellent," he says, before looking at them expectantly, "well . . . you can go now."
Maryse huffs, before heading to the barn door.
And just like that it is over. That wonderful feeling of relief envelops her (but Isabelle can't ignore that lingering feeling of disappointment in her gut).
With one final look at Raphael – he is looking at her calculatingly, but she sends him a half-smile and tries to ignore it – she follows her family out into the night air . . .
"Isabelle," she is almost at the door when he calls her back and she stops dead, turns around, noting with horror when the rest of her family turns around too.
She stares at him questioningly, noting with annoyance that ever-present, amused smirk he seems to have when he looks at her, as if they are in on a secret no-one else knows about. Which, she supposes, they are.
"It was nice to see you again," he says smoothly.
Raphael looks at her strangely – something Isabelle knows from experience is never a good sign – and she raises her eyebrows, a silent warning that he should shut the hell up, but it is too late.
Her mother steps forward, her usual stern expression in place, blue eyes switching from Isabelle to Raphael and back.
"Again?"
That one word is enough to make Isabelle cringe and she hangs her head, revelling in Raphael's stupidity.
Maryse is still looking at them expectantly, so Isabelle opens her mouth – a desperate attempt to come up with some lame, generic response to get them out of this – but she is beaten to the punch.
Isabelle expects Raphael to answer with an excuse as well – one profoundly better than anything she could have come up with – sending her mother a sultry smile before waiting for them to leave.
"You mean . . . she didn't tell you?"
And just when Isabelle thinks that Raphael is becoming more predictable to her, he goes and says something like that.
His smooth voice makes the words sound so innocent, but Isabelle's stomach drops all the same.
She turns to him, questions forming in her mind.
"Isabelle and I have been seeing . . . a lot of each other lately."
What the hell is he doing? She thinks. Her heart is going a mile a minute, pumping so loudly in her ears that she barely hears her mother's response.
"Oh? And when did this start?"
She can feel Maryse burning holes in her side but Isabelle is too busy looking at Raphael, the mischievous glint in his eyes, and anticipating his next answer.
"When I saved her life."
Isabelle thinks that her mother could react in one of many ways – scream and yell, shake her head in disappointment, whip out her seraph blade and slash them both into a million tiny pieces – but the last thing she expects her to do is laugh.
The sound is quiet, there and gone in one single breath – but it is still there, unexpected and threatening to distort her next words.
"Oh, really?" Maryse says disbelievingly, "And how did you do that?"
Isabelle chances a glance at Raphael – his brow is furrowed, not amused by whatever her mother finds so funny – before looking away again.
She stares firmly at the ground when he answers the question, too shocked to intervene.
His words are light, as if the answer is so obvious he doesn't feel the need to explain.
"I gave her my blood."
Time seems to slow to a halt.
Isabelle wonders if this is all a dream. Hadn't Raphael told her himself not to tell anyone? I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this. I have a reputation to uphold. Hadn't they been his words?
She glances over at him, but his gaze still lingers on Maryse, a strange look of triumph in his eyes that makes Isabelle's stomach flip-flop.
A thousand more questions pop into her mind, questions she wants to ask, but she won't because this is not the time or place and her mother is looking at her, shock and a hint of doubt blazing behind her sapphire eyes.
"Isabelle?" she asks, her normally stern voice sounding more shaken and taken aback than Isabelle has ever heard it before.
Isabelle looks behind her, to her father and Alec lingering in the background. If Robert's expression is guarded – arms folded across his chest defensively – then Alec is the complete opposite. He stands, mouth open in disbelief, arms hanging limply by his sides. Isabelle watches as his gaze flickers to the others in the room, trying to make sense of things, and she doesn't miss the strange expression in his wide eyes; as if now that he knows the truth, he wishes he'd never found out.
"Isabelle," Maryse continues, "is this true?"
"Yes," the word comes out a whisper and she can practically hear the collective intake of breath throughout the room.
Perhaps any outsider would think her family was overacting, but Isabelle knows better than that. The Lightwood's are an old fashioned family – one which values Shadowhunter life above all else. So to hear that their own daughter's life has been tainted like this – well, it is no wonder that they are acting this way.
But then the atmosphere changes, her mother's shocked expression giving way to one of blind fury and Isabelle almost flinches away from fear of being burned by the fire in Maryse's eyes.
"Isabelle," this time, her name comes out a terse whisper, "We'll talk about this at home. Go. Now."
Her father and brother move immediately until it is just the three of them left, Isabelle trailing in her mother's wake.
At first, Isabelle doesn't look at him, hoping that he will not say anything but then the words leave his mouth – ("See you soon, Isabelle.") echoing through her mind like they are a song – and she turns to him, her initial confusion melting away until she is seeing red.
Isabelle stares him down, a clear, non-verbal sign that she is pissed-the-hell-off, feeling some sort of satisfaction when Raphael doesn't answer with one of his usual smirks.
He looks at her. She looks back.
"Isabelle," Maryse says bitingly, impatience clear in her tone, "Come on."
Any other time those words had come out of her mother's mouth, Isabelle would have snapped back with a typically teenage comment – something along the lines of "You can't tell me what to do," or "Ugh! I hate you!" before storming off into the night – now . . . she turns and follows, but she doesn't say anything.
. . .
See you soon, Isabelle. Very soon.
End chapter
. . .
A/N: Sooooo, this took a long time. Exams have started and I have loads of work and revising to do. Like now, I should be doing the 23573659363567 thousand word essays I have to do. YEY!
How'd you like the chapter? No Raphael's POV, but I just had sooooo much Isabelle to put down I couldn't help myself. Raphael is MEAN, I've decided. Hope y'all weren't expecting this bombshell of his. Poor Izzy . . .
Never fear, the I/R love will begin soon.
So, who's read City of Fallen Angels?
Cliffy or what?
I LOVED IT! Particularly because I had this horrible feeling that Raphael was going to die, but he didn't so, phew! Camille better watch her back the bitch, 'cause I'll be coming after her if she tries anything.
Also, I've just finished the first Vampire Academy book. Anyone read them? Here's what I thought of the characters.
Rose: Bad-ass!
Lissa: Interesting . . . really haven't got her character down yet.
Dimitri: Hot! If slightly boring at times. Though the whole lust spell thing kinda changed my thinking.
Christian: Hotter! He's my fave character. There's just something I love about his bad-boy, outcast, wounded past storyline. Sigh.
Natalie: Almost felt sorry for her . . . almost.
Victor: Creep.
Ralf: Creep.
Jesse: Creep.
Mia: Bitch! In that gotta-love-her-for-it kind of way. I hope Richelle Mead builds on her character.
Mason: N'awwwww.
Also, anyone read the Hunger Games? They're not putting Madge in the film? BLASPHEMOUS! So, as a way to show my love, I have begun writing a Gale/Madge fanfic – because it SHOULD have happened. Any shippers?
*Gasp* That's it. If you've made it to the end of this A/N then you are a saint.
Next Chapter: The aftermath, meaning the angsty-est Alec/Isabelle confrontation yet. And Bitch!Isabelle will be popping by to teach Raphael who's boss. SQUEE! I'm disgustingly excited to write this.