Hello, everybody! I know, I know: It's already 2013, why hasn't she updated yet?
Well, see, the thing is, I'm still not given full access to my laptop. I'm allowed 2 hours. Now, I don't know about any of you guys, but 2 hours just doesn't work for me. So, progress is slow, at best.
Anyways, I have a tumblr! forever - musical - alee *dot* tumblr *dot* com. Obviously you have to remove the spaces and put in periods. But there. I made it so I could tell you when/what the progress of the next chapter to any story, some fun facts, some snippets to all fanfics, and even some original stuff if you guys want. I'm hoping it'll be fun. I also made it to let you guys know that I'm not dead, just working. ;) Yeah. So please follow if you have a tumblr! Bear with me though, I'm pretty knew to tumblr, so I'm trying to get the hang of it still. If anyone can give me some tips, they're welcome and much appreciated!
Anyway, please read and review! Enjoy this chapter!
Read on~
Fey knew she was dreaming when she saw her surroundings. She stood at the edge of the forest line, at the very end of what seemed to be a village, though there weren't any houses - besides the one she was standing before - around for a wide range of space. She felt strangely at peace, walking away from any civilization and into the woods without a second thought.
She walked on, looking wonderously at the tall trees, the halo of light that surrounded almost everything except the path she was walking on. Little critters scurried by here and there, but she didn't pay them any attention. It wasn't until she tried to look behind her that she realized what she was wearing.
A plaid, short-sleeved, knee-length dress of black, red, and white covered her, and she saw the white stalkings on her legs, the black shoes on her feet. She realized that she was also carrying a basket filled with food and drinks and sweets. And the one thing that she found most baffling to be wearing: a long red hood.
Oh.
A smile tugged at the ends of her lips. Fey knew what this was now. She was dreaming about Kyle's story - she was Little Red Ridinghood. She gave a little giggle. How silly, she thought. What a strange thing to dream about. Nonetheless, she kept walking down the path, hood drawn up, coming closer and closer to her destination. She kept waiting, though, for the wolf to show up.
But he never did. Fey reached the cottage in the middle of the woods without interruption, which she thought was odd. Am I just not remembering the story correctly? she thought to herself as she walked into the cottage. Maybe the wolf comes later on in the story...
"Hello?" she called, sticking to her part. "Grandma? I've brought you food to make you better, Grandma. Where are you? It's me, Little Red..." Fey trailed off, realizing that she wasn't going to get an answer. She walked further into the cottage, years of Shadowhunter training making her alert to anything unusual or out of place. She scanned the living room carefully with her eyes, moving on to the bedroom. It was empty, just like the rest of the house.
"What?" Fey muttered to herself. "What is this?" She set the basket down and sat on the edge of the bed, sighing. "What a strange dream..." She decided then to get out of there and try to wake herself up. There wasn't any point in wasting time in an empty cottage anyway. She was just as restless in her dreams as she was when she was awake. She stood up from the bed and went to take a step-
Only to end up tripping on the basket. She went down on her hands and knees, cursing herself in her head. Idiot, she thought at herself. You should've been more careful! Sighing frustratedly, she looked up - and realized that she wasn't in the cottage anymore. She couldn't tell where she was anymore; there wasn't much light to work with.
The was a faint blue halo surrounding certain parts of the vast plain she was now in. Fey spun around a full 360 degrees to get a look at her surroundings - and realized that she was no longer wearing the Little Red Ridinghood getup; she was clothed in Shadowhunter gear this time. She breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar clothing, taking stock of her weapons - or rather, lack of them. The only thing she had was her stele, which she promptly took out and drew several runes into her skin - a Night Vision rune, a Soundless rune, and a rune for combat, just in case.
Fey walked a few steps forward to get her bearings with the Night Vision rune, letting it take effect. On her second and third steps, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the silence of the unknown place she was in. Immediately, Fey burst into action; she ran in the direction of the scream, but stopped a second later when the scream abruptly cut off. There was a muffled sound, like a heavy object being dragged on the floor, and then total silence again. Fey held her breath, listening for more.
Just when she thought the coast was clear, there was a soft cry, like someone was trying to keep from screaming, but couldn't quite manage it. Fey ran once again toward it, but she knew it was too late. Whatever had cut off the other girl - she was sure by the sound of their voices that they were female - had found this girl; she screamed, and was cut off just like before. And just like before, there was that dragging noise, and then the silence resumed.
There was something about this silence, though, that made the hairs on the back of Fey's neck stand straight on end. It seemed to say something to her, smugly and with cruel eagerness. Your turn.
Defiance rose up within Fey, along with a faint trace of nerves. She took a quiet, deep breath, and then walked steadily through the building; her Night Vision rune had finally kicked in, and she knew exactly where not to step and what this place was. It was a building full of debris; broken beams from the ceiling crossed her path, and she had to weave her way in between them to make her way through it all. She knew somehow where to go; it seemed like there was a gravitational pull luring her to one room of this building in particular.
The room in question was dimly illuminated by candles. Black candles, as a matter of fact; Black magic, Fey thought. A wary feeling settled in her stomach. At the end of the room on a raised dais was a sort of glass coffin. It was definitely see-through; Fey's eyes widened when she noticed that the big black shape inside was actually a human body. What is this? she thought, horrified. Her lips parted slightly. An echo of the first girl's bloodcurdling scream resonated in her head, and she snapped her lips shut. She did not want the same fate as the girl's, even in a dream. This is not a dream, she thought. It's more like the soft beginnings of a nightmare.
The same graviational pull that drove her to this room began to lure her towards the coffin. Much to her own horror, Fey followed without complaint. The unsettled feeling in her stomach intensified, alarm rising the closer she got to the coffin. She noticed markings on the floor as she grew nearer. A pentagram was drawn into the floor; as she stepped into the circle, a shiver of cold washed over her entire body. She realized then that the room was cold. It was almost as cold as the London Institute in the beginning of winter; sharp and cruel, chilling to the bone. Her breath came out in faint puffs that she could see with her Night Vision.
She stopped beside the coffin. It was sealed closed, and a dark liquid filled it inside. The body lay still and undisturbed. Now that she was up close, she could examine; fighting down the urge to shudder, of course. The body turned out to be a young man, a teenager, really. He looked about seventeen, nineteen at the most, with white-blond hair, sharp facial features. His feet and chest were bare, but there was something about his chest that called her attention. It was Marked with several runes, just like any Shadowhunter's; just like Kyle's, just like her own. But there was a specific Mark on this boy's chest that stood out at her; instead of black, this one was bloodred, on the left side of his chest, an angry swirl of lines that stayed imprinted against the insides of her eyelids when she blinked.
Evil. She knew that instinctively. The longer she stared, the worse she felt. There was something wrong about this boy. He was obviously dead, but she felt that wasn't it. He was dead and waiting. Though for what, Fey couldn't tell.
The red Mark on the boy's chest seemed to stand out just to her. She wasn't sure if it was the Night Vision rune making it appear as if it was glowing ever so slightly, but it was. Almost without thinking, she removed a hand from her mouth - she'd covered her mouth with them when she'd seen the mark - and reached it out toward the Mark on his chest. It trembled slightly from nerves and a hint of fear. As she did, the glass covering that sealed the coffin shut seemed to disappear; it was no longer there when she touched the boy's chest. She laid her hand hesitantly over the Mark on his chest; right over his heart. There was no beat beneath her fingers.
The instant her skin touched the boy's, the Mark flared with red light so bright Fey wanted to close her eyes and look away, but she didn't. She snatched her hand away, nearly jumping out of her own skin. What the bloody hell was that?
There was another flare of light beside her and the coffin, much brighter than that of the Mark. This time, Fey did close her eyes and look away. When the light died down, she was left staring at a monster - a Greater Demon, to be exact. She reacted purely on instinct - she grabbed the nearest thing she could use for a weapon - a sharp metal rod from the floor - and held it like a sword in defensive stance, ready to fight if she had to.
The Greater Demon in question was much like the mundanes' vision of Medusa from their mythology; snakes for hair, gray scaly skin, and claws for fingers. Unlike most demons, though, this one had a particularly old feeling to it. Almost as though it was centuries old; you could feel the old power emmitting from it like static.
It lifted a hand up, and Fey tensed, ready to fight; but the Demon's mouth opened and spoke. "Peace, Shadowhunter," it said, lifting a hand toward her. "I do not come to fight. I shall not attack you, so long as you exert the same restraint toward me."
Fey didn't trust a word this Demon - obviously female, though genders weren't important - said, but she still lowered the metal rod, holding it straight out just in case. The demon's soulless black eyes followed her every movement.
"What is your name?" it asked.
"Fey Youngcross," Fey said, tilting her chin up by a fraction. The formality, the civility of the whole situation was unnerving; what was this demon's motive? What did it want with her?
"Fey," the demon repeated. It paused, and then proceeded to drift around Fey in a circle, inspecting her with those unblinking eyes. Fey drew up her weapon, but then lowered it at a glance from the demon. Something told her she didn't want to face its wrath.
Finally, coming back around in front of her, the demon spoke again. "Indeed," it said, its lips twitching in what seemed to be its equivalent of a smile. "You are as beautiful as the creatures you were named after. Strong. Smart. Brave." It paused again, eyes sliding toward the boy in the coffin beside Fey.
"How would you know that?" Fey asked, unnerved at the way the demon was walking about her; almost as if it knew her. As if it had the slightest inkling who Fey was.
It looked at her with a knowing look in its eyes that made Fey's skin crawl. "Youngling," it said, "there are many things I know about you. Asking me how I have come to aquire such knowledge would be asking the wrong question. It would be foolish. I know that you are much smarter than that. Your parents raised you well."
Fey was taken aback. How did this demon know so much? Was it just assuming all of these things to get under her skin and steer her off her course? She knew she couldn't ask that. She had to ask the better question; the right questions first.
"What do you want?" She asked; the suspense was killing her. The cold had intensified with the Greater Demon's presence, alerting her even more to the depth of its power. She couldn't tell why or how, but it wanted something from her. And she needed to know what. "Who are you?"
The demon's attention snapped back to Fey, and it smiled at her, revealing sharp, gruesome teeth. "My dear," it purred delightedly. "You don't know who I am? I am Lilith. Mother of all demons."
It was like plunging your head into a bucket of icy water; Fey was suddenly more alert, standing straighter, holding on tighter to her metal rod. "What do you want?" she repeated, keeping her voice steady so as not to portray her fear.
Lilith looked at her, almost as if she were surprised. "You're the one," Lilith said. "You're the one I've been looking for all this time for - " She stopped abruptly, turning her head to gaze down at the dead boy in the coffin. Fey followed her gaze, though she saw nothing different. Still the same unknown boy in the coffin; she couldn't fathom what the Greater Demon wanted from her, a Shadowhunter that was automatically hated by all demons and most Downworlders. Without thinking, she glanced again around the room. Her eyes froze on a large pile of unidentifiable things off to the right and behind the Demon; the things in the pile started to take a familiar form the longer Fey stared at it. They were a tangled mess of... arms. And legs. Torsos. Bloody heads of hair. A giant pile of... female human bodies. All bloody and wounded and dead; lifeless faces staring up into the darkness. Fey's stomach churned and quivered in horror. She looked back at Lilith in shock and revulsion.
"Soon," Lilith said, a promise blazing in her eyes as she looked deeply into Fey's. "You are the one. I've found you. And you aren't getting away from me."
Fey startled awake on the bed in a dreary darkness. She opened her eyes wider to glance at the window; based on the dull glow coming in, it was an early, cloudy morning. She sighed. Another early wake.
That was when she realized there was a sound echoing in her ear; a repeating thump, followed by a slight rising and falling of her head. A heartbeat. Kyle's heartbeat to be exact, since he was still sleeping next to her. Her head rested on his chest, hence the heartbeat in her ear. Their legs were tangled, rather awkwardly, due to the fact that Fey was under the blanket and Kyle was not. He was still in the same clothes from yesterday; jeans and a black t-shirt. Fey felt a pang of guilt in her chest; thanks to her slight intoxication last night, he hadn't gone and changed into night clothes. He'd probably gone to sleep uncomfortable, not complaining because she hadn't wanted him to leave her alone.
Stupid, she thought to herself. You can't do that. He has his own needs to take care of. And so do you.
She needed to shower. She needed to start her day. She needed to brush her teeth and get rid of the awful, dry taste in her mouth.
Carefully, she lifted Kyle's arm and moved it over her, sliding her head off his chest and laying his arm down at his side. His breathing hitched a little, making her freeze in place, holding her breath in case he woke up. But he didn't; his breathing returned to normal, and he didn't stir anymore. She let out a quiet breath, and then quickly grabbed her things to get showered and dressed.
In the shower, she thought about her dream. What a strange dream she'd had; she couldn't even remember half of it. All she could remember was a basket, and a dress and a hood, possibly a coffin or something...
And then she drew a blank. It was frustrating to her that she couldn't remember her dream. She had the feeling that it was something incredibly important, something Fey should remember, but just couldn't. She kept coming up against the same unbreakable wall. And hard as she tried, she couldn't break through it.
Sighing as she turned off the water, she wrung the water out of her long blond hair. No matter, she thought, glancing at her warped form in the condensed mirror. It'll come back to me eventually. I hope.
Fey reached out a hand and wiped a circle into the foggy mirror big enough to see her face in it. The same sea-blue eyes, the same pale skin with a light sprinkle of golden freckles across her nose that were hardly visible. There wasn't anything different or changed about her. And yet she felt that there was something different about her, something that wasn't there before. She frowned. What could it be?
Shaking her head, she dried herself and got dressed in a simple quarter-sleeved black shirt and jeans, putting on her favorite pair of combat boots. Her Clairvoyance rune on the back of her right hand seemed to stare at her as she laced up her boots. She remembered how excited she'd been to get the rune. How proud she was of herself, and how proud her parents were. Her mother was the stuck-up kind, the one who always wanted time to herself and didn't really like spending time with Fey; but her father - oh, her father was her partner in crime. Everything he did, she wanted to do. Whenever he went out on business, she wanted to go with him. Sometimes he took her, and if there was trouble, he would make her hide somewhere until it was safe for her to come out. She always watched him from her hiding place. She saw how fearless he was when he fought, how he never seemed to falter in his attacks when he was up against demons. He was so skilled, so smart and brave; he was everything she wanted to be.
Tears pricked her eyes. No, she told herself fiercely. She took a deep breath. Oh, how she missed him. He wouldn't want you to cry over him. Be the warrior he said he knew you'd be. Get your day started.
She stood up straight and glanced at herself in the mirror, fixing her shirt and running her hands through her hair before she quietly opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. She glanced at the bed to find Kyle still there. He was awake now, sitting up slightly and watching her as she smiled and walked over to the bed. She threw herself next to him, looking away from him at first, and then turning her head to look at him. He watched her expressionlessly for a few seconds, but then his face broke into a grin.
"Good morning, sunshine," She greeted him cheerfully. He yawned in response, stretching his arms up above his head. "Ew!" she said, waving a hand in front of her face to wave away his morning breath. She admired that he could do this without feeling self-conscious or embarrassed; he had a bad case of bedhead, morning breath, and yet he was so comfortable around her that he would actually yawn in her face. She rather liked that about him, instead of being opposed by it. It just made him more real; sometimes she thought him a dream. How could someone so understanding and kind and mischevous, someone who knew her thoughts and feelings better than anyone else, possibly be her best friend? She could hardly believe that he'd been sent to the London Institute sometimes, hardly believe that they'd ever met. Every time she woke up in the morining and found him at breakfast, she counted her blessings; having Kyle in her life was definitely number one.
She poked him under his arms in revenge. He jumped, his yawn cut off halfway, and he jerked his arms down hastily before she could try it again. Fey laughed at his sleepy glare.
"'Tis time to start the day, Mr. Whitelaw," she said to him, sliding off the bed. He caught her arms before she could get off all the way, whining in response.
"Nooo," he whined. "I wanna sleep. It's too early!"
Fey rolled her eyes. "All the more reason to get up! We can get more stuff done. Come on!"
"No! It's not even six in the morning! You woke me up with your shower at, like, five twenty..."
Fey could see he wasn't going to let up on this one. Rather than argue with him, she frowned and grunted at him, climbing back on the bed and sitting on her knees. He looked relieved and surprised that he'd won this round, but he didn't complain. He just dragged her down until she was lying on the bed, and then lay beside her, his head resting on her chest this time. He wrapped an arm around her waist, as if to keep her there at his side. Fey allowed this, but when he wrapped his arm around her, she saw that she wasn't getting out of this. She would be stuck with him until he woke up. Her right arm hovered in the air above his head, since she'd pulled it out before he could lie down; she draped it over his shoulders, softly peting his cheek with the back of her hand. Kyle let out a deep breath and relaxed his whole body. He was asleep within seconds.
Fey puffed out a sigh. Now what? she thought, resigned. I won't be doing anything for hours. Dammit! But then she thought about how he'd stayed last night with her when she'd asked him to, how he'd told her that ridiculous fairytale and fallen asleep with her instead of going back to his own room. All because she's asked him not to go. It's the least I can do. I'll just have to deal.
Dealing was hard. For the next three hours she laid there and waited for him to wake up, just staring at the ceiling. She occupied herself by braiding her hair into dozens of small skinny braids in the first hour, and then letting them sit through the last two hours while she counted blessings and entertained fantasies.
Two eyes are one, she counted. Two arms are two. Two hands are three. Ten fingers are four...
What would I do if I were blind? What would I do if I were born in the years before modern medicine and got infected in my arm and had to chop it off? Which arm would I chop off? What if I had to chop off my hands, or got arthritis? What if I lost fingers in battle? What if...
She was so entertained by these questions in her head that she didn't notice Kyle was awake and watching her until she glanced down to try to imagine what it would be like to live with a few toes missing on each foot. All throughout these fantasies she'd been making expressions; some of confusion, thoughtfulness, happiness, anger, sadness, and relief. As she gazed down at him with a slight frown on her face in reproach, she realized he'd been watching her for most of it, probably.
"Kyle!" she said. "How long have you been watching me like a creeper?"
"About a half hour," he answered lazily. He gave a small yawn.
Fey was irked by his response. A whole half hour that he'd been awake; a whole half hour that she could've been doing something productive - wasted! "You stared at me for a half hour straight?" she cried incredulously. "How were you not bored to death? And more importantly, how could you let a whole thirty minutes pass by without saying a word and alerting me?"
He just shrugged and gave another yawn. The twerp, Fey thought. She sat up abruptly, causing him to fall face first on the pillows. He groaned into them, and she laughed. "That's what you get."
"If I apologize, will it make you feel better?" he said mockingly, pushing his face off the pillow to speak. His amused smirk made Fey roll her eyes in response. "So... I guess not?"
Her only response was to slide off the bed and walk over to the door, leaving him to scramble off the bed to follow her.
"Where are we going?" he asked as they walked out of her room.
"Well, you are going back to your room to change and shower," she said, continuing to walk away while he stopped in the middle of the hallway, "and I am going to find somebody to talk about breakfast and today's plans. Hurry up, and maybe there'll be some food left."
Fey didn't turn around to see if he'd listened or not; she knew he would be gone before she could.
~0~
"You better have saved me some food, Fey, or I will-" Kyle cut himself off midsentence, probably realizing that there wasn't really anything he could or would do to Fey without putting his life at risk. "Do something you won't like," he stammered lamely.
Fey raised an eyebrow at him; she was half-bent over the dining table, leaning in close to Christina-who was still eating-and next to Isabelle, who looked at him amusedly. Without a word, Fey slid a plate of food across the table over to him; he blushed slightly. "Thank you," he mumbled, sitting down at the table and digging into his food.
"So, Isabelle," Fey said, turning her head to face the other girl, "have they identified the bodies they found so far?"
"Not all of them," Isabelle answered. "But from what I've heard, most of them were female Shadowhunters. Nobody I knew, thankfully, but still. Their families..." she trailed off.
Meanwhile, Fey's heart skipped a beat- and she wasn't sure why. What did their gender have anything to do with her? Just because they were girls and she was too? Why did it strike this kind of reaction in her?
"Fey, are you all right?" Christina asked by her side, voice full of concern. "You looked a little pale."
"I'm fine," Fey said, straightening up. "Just fine."
Everyone was watching her now. They didn't look like they believed her, and Isabelle looked a bit suspicious, but nobody commented. "It's just- doesn't it seem strange to you that the majority of the dead Shadowhunters were female? Do we know of any Downworlders or demons who favor females? Any Downworlders or demons who would be bold enough to actually seek them out and slaughter them?" Fey paced back and forth while she spoke her thoughts out loud.
"Wait a tick, Fey," Kyle said, holding up a hand for emphasis. "What are you talking about? What's all this about Downworlders and slaughtered Shadowhunters?"
"Christina, debrief him," Fey commanded. While Christina complied, Fey thought some more. Downworlders and demons didn't usually go out of their way to attack or pursue Shadowhunters, whether they had vendettas against them or their families or not. They wouldn't want to cause any trouble that could break the law and cost them their lives or worse. This was crazy - suicidal almost.
"That does seem pretty strange," Kyle admitted, "but those are just the bodies they've found - if there are any more. Hopefully not... It isn't all female Shadowhunters, though. There are males here and there as well. What's the worry, Fey? Scared they're gonna catch you next?"
Fey just looked at him. He averted his eyes quickly, point taken.
"I guess we'd better get going, then," Fey said to fill the silence. She was excited to leave - excited and nervous. She hadn't seen Simon in so many years... What did he look like now? Was he still the nerd she knew him to be? Did he still like music? Did he still wear glasses? Would he remember her or would he have forgotten her after all these years of not seeing her? She was caught between the two expressions: Out of sight, out of mind and Absence makes the heart grow fonder. She hoped it was the latter.
"Isabelle, are you coming?" Christina asked when the other girl didn't get up.
Isabelle shook her head. "No, I have other things to do. Maybe I'll see you later, though. Bye, guys."
"Bye."
~0~
"Simon, come with me; I have someone I want you to meet." Clary's voice drifted out of the garage over to Fey and her gang as they waited for her. Fey was nervous; it was a bit noticeable in the way she kept wringing her hands together and shifting her weight from foot to foot almost constantly. She couldn't keep still. She was so close to her old best friend - to both of them, actually. She didn't know what to expect. Would he look the same as what she remembered him looking last? Would he still act the same? And more importantly, would he remember her?
She knew Clary hadn't been telling the full truth the other night. She could still tell when the redhead was lying even after so many years of being away from her. Clary was just a really nice person; she didn't want to hurt Fey's feelings. While Fey appreciated the gesture, she would've preferred the truth. It didn't matter anyway. In time she hoped Clary really would remember her. If she spent enough time with her they could become best friends again; or so she hoped. Fey knew not to be so hopeful. She knew it was dangerous to set herself up that way. It was one of her traitorous traits; she was always hopeful that anything or anyone could change for the better. In her heart and soul, there was always hope.
"Really, Clary? Don't you think he already has enough girl problems in his life? There's already two - why does he need a third one?" an unfamiliar voice rang out from the garage, sounding further away from them than Clary's had.
"Oh, shut up, Eric!" This voice sounded much more familiar. Even though the memory of the voice was vague and faint, Fey could trace it back to her childhood memories of a boy with dark hair and dark eyes framed by glasses, and a healthy dose of sarcastic humor. She knew who this was.
"I'll take her if you don't want her!" The unfamiliar person - Eric - cried.
Then the garage door was opening, and Fey's heart kicked into high gear and flew into her throat, and Clary stepped out, leading another person behind her.
"Seriously, Clary, what's going on? Who do you want me to - " the boy cut off abruptly, catching sight of Fey. He still looked like she remembered him; same dark hair falling into his eyes, same dark eyes, although the glasses were misssing, even the same face, just slightly elongated and more mature looking. It was still Simon.
"Hello," Fey said softly, lips tugging up in a small, crooked smile. His eyes squinted slightly when he heard her voice, her accent.
"Hi," he said, still squinting. "Do I - have we ever met before?"
"Yes, actually, we have." Fey extended her hand for him to shake. "I'm Fey Youngcross. We knew each other as kids."
"Fey?" Simon took her hand, shaking it as he looked her up and down. "Oh my G - " he seemed to choke a bit then, but Fey didn't think it weird; perhaps, she thought, he was just really shocked. "The same Fey that Clary and I used to have sleepovers with yet never went to school with us? Our best friend, Fey?"
"The same," Fey replied breathlessly. She could hardly believe it; after Clary not being able to remember her, she wasn't sure if Simon would. The relief she felt then was so immense that she did something that surprised even her - she came at Simon and threw her arms around him. He stiffened for a second, surprised, but then hugged her back, laughing a bit.
"I can't believe it! You've been gone for - what? Five, almost six years? You look so... different, yet still the same. Crazy, curly blond hair, blue eyes, and I'm gonna guess here, but you're still a smartass." He looked her up and down. "Mhm. Definitely still a smartass. You've got the look of one; that smirk, body language. Haha."
"Always a smartass; I'll never lose my sass - so long as you don't lose yours," Fey said, grinning at him. Then she remembered her crew standing behind her silently; she felt a slight pang of guilt for having forgotten about them so quickly and completely. The excitement of having Simon and Clary back was just a little too good, she supposed.
"Anyway," she said, taking a step back from him, "this is my family. This is Christina Lovelace"- she indicated Christina, who stepped forward and offered her hand to Simon.
"Hello, nice to meet you," Christina said, curt and polite.
"This is Kyle Whitelaw."
"Hey, mate, nice to meet you," Kyle shook Simon's hand as he spoke.
"And this is his sister, Marina Whitelaw."
Marina looked him up and down at a leisurely pace, making it obvious that her rudeness was intentional. Then she reluctantly stepped forward and grabbed Simon's hand with her fingers as if she didn't want to touch him at all. If looks could kill, Marina would've been six feet under before she'd taken a single step. Fey was absolutely livid.
"A pleasure," Marina said, rolling her eyes.
"Charmed, I'm sure," Simon said sarcastically; his tone was upbeat and mocking. Marina caught on quickly, snatching her hand back and glaring.
"I'll have your head on a platter," said Fey in a sweet tone to the youger girl. To Simon, she said, "Don't mind her, she's always like this."
"I don't mind," Simon said. He looked over at Marina. "It's actually kind of cute."
Fey snorted; the offended look on Marina's face was priceless. She shook her head, holding back laughter. "Still the same Simon I remember," she said, playfully slapping his shoulder.
"Still the same Fey I remember; haven't lost that abusive touch, have you?" He looked over at Kyle, who was watching their exchange silently with a strange look on his face that Fey couldn't decipher; it was gone before she could even be sure it was there. "I bet she turned it on you; I feel sorry for you."
"It's how I show my affection," Fey chirped. "Anyway, shouldn't we go inside?"
"Yeah, let's go inside," Clary agreed. She pushed up the garage door and they all followed her inside.
A few short introductions later, Fey began to notice how easy it was to interact with Clary and Simon. It was almost as if she had never left. Talking to them was as easy now as it had been then; even as they caught up and included Fey's crew into the conversations. They shared stories, talked with Simon's bandmates, laughed and cracked jokes - it was surprisingly normal. The only thing putting it down a bit was the fact that Marina was still being a brat.
"You know what's really awesome, though?" Eric said, putting down him drumsticks. "Having a vampire in our band. It's totally going to take us over the top in our career."
Fey and her friends, who had been laughing at something Clary had said, abruptly quieted, their laughter peetering out. "What? Who's a vampire?" asked Fey, a trickle of alarm leaking into her voice. She wasn't scared; just surprised, shocked, confused. Nobody had told her about this.
Eric raised his brows at her in surprise. "You mean nobody's told you yet?"
"Told me what? Clary, what's going on? What are they talking about?" Fey turned to Clary, who looked suspiciously pale. "Who's a vampire?"
Clary's mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out. Simon stepped forward then, ducking his head slightly and sighing. "I am," he said simply, raising his head to look her in the eye.
Fey's eyes widened. "How? What happened to you? Are you alright? Why didn't anyone tell me this earlier? Clary!" The redhead jumped, shrugging apologetically.
"It's not Clary's fault; just let me explain," said Simon. He let out a big sigh, and began the explanation with the air of dread and a low voice so that his bandmates wouldn't overhear.
By the time Simon stopped talking, Fey was already reaching out to hug him. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that," she whispered into his shoulder.
He hugged her back, shrugging one shoulder up. "It's alright. Not so bad being a vampire that can walk in daylight. It's just..."
"Your mother," Fey finished. Her heart tugged for him. "Oh, Simon. I am so sorry."
He shrugged again. At that moment, there was a large rap on the garage door. Fey and her group, who were standing against it, moved away from it as it slid up to reveal a boy standing in its place, backlit by the bright light from outside. In his hand he held a piece of paper; a flyer for something, Fey guessed. He looked down at it uncertainly, then back up at everyone.
"Hey," he said. "Is this the place where I can find the band Dangerous Stain?"
"We're actually Dichotomous Lemur now," Eric said, stepping up. "Who wants to know?"
"My name's Kyle," the boy said, stepping into the garage completely. Straightening up again after ducking slightly - he was pretty tall - he flipped the brown hair that fell over his eyes and held out the flyer to Eric. "I saw that you were looking for a lead singer."
"Man, I totally forgot about that flyer," Matt, another bandmate, said. "We put that flyer up, like, a year ago."
"Yeah, were were doing different things back then," Eric said. "We mostly just switch off on vocals. You got any experience?"
The boy, Kyle, shrugged. Fey glanced back at Kyle, her Kyle, and raised an eyebrow at him when he caught her eye. He just rolled his eyes at her. She shouldered him playfully in response.
"Not really," the other Kyle said. "I've been told I can sing, though." He had a slow, drawling diction, more like a surfer than Southern accent.
The band members looked at each other uncertainly. "Can you maybe give us a second, dude?" Eric asked.
"Sure." Kyle ducked out of the garage, sliding the door closed behind him.
The band immediately started discussing. Clary interrupted the discussion. "I think," she said, raising her voice to be heard, "you should let him try out. Listen to him."
Simon turned and stared at her. "What? Why?"
"'Cause he's hot," she answered simply. "And your band needs sex appeal, just saying."
Fey glanced around at them all. Simon was pretty cute as far as Fey could tell, though she was biased, obviously, as they were best friends. The other guys were all right in their respective rights. But, as bad as she felt to admit, Clary spoke the truth. And, glancing at Marina and Christina, they thought so too.
"Gee," Simon said, "thank you very much. I know I can count on you to tell it to us straight."
Clary made a noise of impatience. "Yeah, you're all fine-looking guys. Especially you, Simon." She patted his hand mockingly. "But Kyle is seriously hot. I'm just saying what I think. From my opinion as a female, if you add Kyle to your band, you could double your female fan base."
That sparked a few sarcastic comments from the band. Fey glanced back at her gang; they all had uncomfortable expressions on their faces. She had to admit, she felt a bit awkward herself. It wasn't easy being around Simon and Clary after all these years; they had all three changed over the years, obviously. Different interests, friends, opinions. Simon was a vampire now, for goodness sake! That was definitely a big change.
Sorry, she mouthed at them so that the people behind her wouldn't hear. Her Kyle and Christina shrugged; Marina merely ignored her. Fey put her hand in her coat pocket; Marina's cellphone was still there. She knew Marina wasn't above stealing her phone back. She had to keep close tabs on the phone lest she feel the need to do so.
The garage door slid up again, and Kyle stuck his head back in.
"Uh, dudes? If you don't want me to try out, it's cool. So you changed your sound, that's okay. Just, you know, say the word and I'm out."
"Well, come inside and let us get a look at you."
He stepped back into the garage. Fey scanned him up and down with her eyes. He was a tall, slim guy with broad shoulders, high cheekbones, and longish black hair that fell over his forehead and down his neck in soft curls. He had brown, tanned skin that Fey could tell hadn't lost its summer tan-ness yet. His hazel-green eyes were framed with long, thick eyelashes; he basically looked like a pretty-boy rockstar. He had ordinary clothes on, a fitted tee and jeans, and Fey noticed identical tattoos twining his bare arms; they looked like scrolling script winding up and around hsi shirt, eventually disappearing up the sleeves of his t-shirt.
All in all, he wasn't so sore on the eyes.
Kirk, another member of the band, broke the silence. "You know, I see it. He is pretty hot, actually."
Kyle blinked, and Fey snorted. Both Kyles glanced at her, her Kyle winking at her from the corner of his eye. The other Kyle turned back to Eric. "So, do you want me to try out or not?"
Eric grabbed the mike from the stand and handed it to Kyle. "Go ahead. Knock yourself out."
~0~
"He was pretty good, I think," Fey said to her Kyle as they walked a few paces behind Christina and Marina, who, in turn, were walking a few paces behind Simon and Clary. They were leading the way to Clary's house, apparently. They had kind of just drifted up in front of them, and Kyle and Fey had done the same, drifting to the back. It was twilight now, the sunlight fading away.
Kyle turned his head to look at her. "Sure, I guess. That was an interesting way to kill a few hours."
"I'm sorry you guys had to stand there in awkwardness. It was pretty awkward for me too. I guess I can't complain exactly, since I haven't seen them in so long. I mean, people change. Life moves on whether you're with it or not. It waits for no one, sadly. I just have to deal. And I can't forget that while I may have lost them at the age of twelve, I gain something significantly better." She beamed up at him.
Kyle pretended to think about what she said, bring a hand to his face and running it thoughtfully along his jaw. "Hmm," he said. "A bigger house? New scenery? A newer, more interesting life?"
She smacked his arm playfully. "No, you idiot! A new family." Her voice softened.
"Yeah," Kyle said, his voice softening as well. "That too."
They walked in silence for a few moments. Fey suddenly felt a warm tingly feeling in her hand. She looked down at it discreetly, and realized that her hand was brushing up against Kyle's. She was confused; this sensation kept happening. Why was it that whenever she touched skin with Kyle, she felt all tingly and warm inside? She didn't get it at all, and didn't know what to make of it.
To make it stop, she moved her hand away; but instead of keeping to herself, she linked arms with Kyle. She didn't want to seem rude, or worse, alert him to the fact that there was something behind the reason for moving it that wasn't about being casual or something. Agh, she thought to herself. I'm just confused.
They were nearing the house, now, apparently. Simon and Clary were slowing down to a crawl and stopping at the corner of the pavement. Kyle and Fey were still a ways away from them and Christina and Marina. They walked a long at a slow pace, silent.
Then suddenly, Kyle said, "Did... you think that Kyle guy was hot?"
Fey's eyes widened, and she slowly turned her head to look at Kyle. His expression was of forced throughtfulness; he was trying to hide what he was thinking from his expression. Fey couldn't help it - the question and his expression were too much. She burst out laughing, leaning her head on his shoulder and grabbing his hand, giving it a tight squeeze.
Kyle looked confused, to say the least.
"Oh, Kyle, you son of a gun," was all he got out of her. She wiped a tear from her eye and tugged him along, following Clary and the girls. She waved goodbye to Simon, who was already walking away.
Clary led Fey and her gang inside the house. Fey was disoriented for a moment; she didn't recognize the house or the things in it. But she followed Clary in, nonetheless. Her gang followed suit, just as uncertain as she was.
"Mom, I'm home," Clary called, rounding a corner. "I've brought some friends over."
"Friends?" A dreadfully familiar voice called. Fey's blood turned icy cold in her veins. She stiffened, and so did the rest of her crew - even
Marina. Dazedly, Fey realized Christina must've filled her in. She suddenly didn't want to follow Clary, but she was already around the corner; it was too late to turn around and go back. Mechanically, Fey swiftly walked into the kitchen behind Clary, who stood next to a familiar figure. The other person had their back facing Fey and her crew, so she hadn't been spotted yet. She remembered what the woman looked like, though; red hair, freckles, green eyes...
Jocelyn Fairchild turned around to face them with a smile on her face that made Fey want to scream and cry and laugh and yell all at the same time. The smile froze on Jocelyn's face as vague recognition settled in. Fey swiftly strode forward, one hand extended for a handshake, her face blank of any expression except for a tiny upward curve of her lips.
"Hello, Ms. Fray," Fey said in a dead, polite voice. "I'm Fey Youngcross."
AND I STOP. OMG GUYS IM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG I HAD A LOT GOING ON:
CSTs
PROFICIENCIES
EVEN MORE TESTING
RUSHED LAST-MINUTE CLASS PROJECTS FOR EACH SUBJECT
HOME PROBLEMS
GRADUATION PREP
GRADUATION
GREAT AMERICA TRIP
LAST TWO DAYS OF SCHOOL
AND BABYSITTING MY SIBLINGS WHILE MY MOM AND DAD ARE AT WORK.
I ALSO JUST BUILT MY OWN BED AND DESK, SO I'VE GOT A WORK PLACE TO WORK THROUGH THE SUMMER NOW, YUPPEE!
PLEASE REVIEW EVEN THOUGH I KNOW YOU ALL HATE ME FOR TAKING SO LONG, I'M GONNA WORK HARDER THIS SUMMER FOR YOU GUYS. NOW I GOTTA GO WORK ON MY OTHER FANFICS.
DON'T FORGET TO FOLLOW ME ON TUMBLR, K? THANKS. :D
I LOVE YOU GUYS, SEE Y'ALL NEXT TIME.
Ciao!
~Alee V.