Okay, I know I've had a veeeeeeeery long silence in this story. Please forgive me! Anyways I present you with chapter 3! Enjoy and please review. Thank you all.
Chapter 3: Shattered Mark
Within twenty minutes Isabelle was ready to go. She was dressed in her black Shadowhunter uniform, her golden whip was coiled around her waist. She was just drawing the basic form of an irataz on her wrist, so she could quickly finish it for instant healing. "Hello?" Came Clary's voice, "Izzy?"
"Come in Clary," Isabelle said and slipped the stele in her pocket. Clary came in and shut the door. "I'm sorry you had to see that before," Isabelle said quietly.
"No worries," Clary said with a shrug, "It gave me an excuse to smack Jace senseless. And besides," she added, "I don't mind how you live your life, I respect the choices you make."
"You sound like my mother," Isabelle smiled.
"No I don't," Clary said pulling out her stele, "I sound like Alec. Your mom looks as if she could kill at the moment."
"She can."
"You know what I mean," Clary took Isabelle's left hand and began drawing a Mark on the upper side.
"What is that?" Isabelle didn't recognise the symbol at all, it sort of looked like an open eye with three semi-circles around it, she thought.
"Iothar, Focus," Clary said when she had finished, "At least that's what it should be, how I imagined it, you should be able to focus more on the task at hand than anything else now."
"But why-" Clary held up her hand.
"Listen," She said, "I know that you haven't been able to focus on anything very well. Today I found out why, it's Simon isn't it? The reason you can't concentrate?"
Isabelle was silent for a long while, Clary took this as her queue to leave. "I hope the rune works out for you." The door closed and Isabelle was left staring at the Mark the redhead had sketched so expertly on her wrist. The smell of scorched flesh hung in the air, Isabelle breathed in deeply with her eyes closed. When they opened again they were hard and icy, empty of almost all emotion. The sudden yearn for killing washed over her like a black tidal wave. She relished the familiar feeling as the sinister grin of a killer washed over her face. Clary's Mark was working all thoughts of Simon had been pushed away. She strode out of her room, ready to kill.
Isabelle, Jace and Clary had arrived at the place where there were supposed to be demonic activity. It was one of the converted to residential warehouses in Brooklyn, about two blocks from where Magnus lived. Isabelle looked up, the only thing that seemed abnormal about the house was a broken window, but other than that everything looked normal. Jace had his Sensor out and was already scanning the area. "There's a pretty good amount of activity in there," he said, "I'd say there's about five of the nasties."
"Five?" Isabelle asked, "Nothing."
"We should enter from there," Clary pointed to a fire escape on the side of the building. Jace broke into a silent sprint and launched himself off a dumpster and onto one of the railings. Swinging nimbly and silently onto the first landing he took an exaggerated bow. "Show off," Clary mumbled and strode toward where he offered his hand and hoisted her up. Isabelle joined them, her whip ready.
The trio noiselessly trotted up the fire escape to the fire escape until the Sensor in Jace's hand beeped twice. "Here," he whispered to the girls behind him. He expertly drew the open rune on the window and stepped into the darkness that ate him instantly. For a moment he was invisible then the eerie, pale light of the Witchlight stone shone through his fingers. Clary and Isabelle entered the gloom. They had entered the-or what used to be-living room. Floral covered sofas had long horizontal gashes cut into them, an old television set had been cut in two and along the wall scarlet splatters and deep slashes ran its length. Jace picked up a broken picture frame, "The residents?" He passed it to Clary.
"Poor things," she said softly, "I wonder if they got out in time?" Isabelle looked over Clary's shoulder at the picture. A soft faced grandmother had her hand on a little blond haired girl's shoulder, a handsome teenage boy smiled with perfect teeth with his arm around taller, more mature looking version of himself, obviously the father and a slight blond woman was behind them almost glowing with maternal feelings as she looked at her little girl.
"It doesn't really look like it does it?" Said Isabelle and at that moment there was a crash, an inhuman screech and the sound of scuttling feet. Clary had her stele in her left hand and a short dagger in the other. Jace took a seraph balde in his hands and it lit up when he whispered, "Jamraerah." And the empty spaces were filled with the pale half-light of Jace's sword. Isabelle's golden whip was uncoiled and she almost lashed out at the figure in the doorway, but she had stopped short. A girl stood in the doorframe, dirty blond hair matted and wild, blue eyes wide with horror. Clary almost dropped her weapons and ran to the girl, but Jace stopped her.
"Wait," he said and looked to the little girl, "What's your name little girl?"
The small figure managed to stammer, "H-Hannah sir."
"Hannah, what happened here?"
"The monsters came."
"The monsters came?" Clary asked.
"Yes, scary monsters. Th-they took Gran and Andrew, Ma and Pa." Clary took a step closer and the girl turned to her, blue eyes wide.
"There, there the monsters are gone now," she said reassuringly, "You're safe now." Except the girl just shook her head.
"No," the girls voice was mixed with another, deeper, bone chilling tone, "We're still here Nephilim. Angel children."
Clary drew back as did Jace and Isabelle as the girl got down on all four and bared a set of savage broken teeth like shattered glass. The shadows moved behind her and Clary threw her dagger into the dark. There was a screech and suddenly the young man from the photo appeared, snarling with the same canines as his sister, Clary's dagger sunk into his left shoulder. Jace lashed forward with his glowing sword but the possessed girl jumped high. She crawled across the ceiling until she was over Isabelle who stuck out with her whip. It snaked around the girl's small neck.
The girl's brother dashed at Clary but Jace came between them and stabbed the boy. He screamed and fell to the floor twitching and jerking. Isabelle had pulled the demon girl from the ceiling and was striking mercilessly at her targets deceitfully innocent face. "Izzy!" Clary called, "Stop!"
For a moment Isabelle stayed her golden whip and her victim took its chance. It dived for Isabelle's throat, small, glassy black teeth gleaming. "You're mine now angel child!" It screamed.
"Israfil!" Suddenly the room became brighter and a seraph blade flew across the room and skewered the demon girl to a wall. Thick black blood pooled around the blade and dripped to the floor.
Isabelle swallowed, attempting to moisten her suddenly dry throat. "Thanks," She said. Jace nodded and took out another of the short metallic tubes that instantly elongated into a shining glass sword when he spoke an angels name.
"Why the hell did you do that?" Clary screamed, "You just killed her!" Then there was more movement in the gloom and three more screeching people leaped out at the Shadowhunters.
"These people weren't alive when we got here, Clary," Jace answered as he nimbly dodged the ravenous talons of a demon grandmother, "they're demon 'vessels'! The demons killed them and took over their bodies!"
Isabelle wrapped her whip around one of the figures necks and pulled. Its snarling head was torn from its neck sending a splatter of more dark fluid across the walls. It rolled over to her feet, Isabelle looked down and saw that it was the mother, her face twisted in an inhuman smile. Before Isabelle had time to even think about what she'd done another demon person caught her eye. This time though it was the boy, Clary's dagger and Jace's seraph blade was gone, leaving him looking like a crazed beast drenched in black blood. He looked like...
...Simon.
Simon on the day he became a vampire. The Mark pulsed on her wrist. Simon awash in his own blood and dirt from his grave. The Mark began to tingle. Simon again, this time with a look of sympathy on his face, "What happened to Max. It wasn't your fault." The Mark on her palm was searing with pain, it glowed red. Simon, half-naked on Isabelle's bed, grinning with his vampire teeth.
There was a loud noise, like the shattering of glass it echoed in Isabelle's mind, then a flood of images and flashbacks. In all of which Simon was the star. They seared though Isabelle's mind, like a migraine threatening to make her head explode. "SIMON!" Isabelle's voice rang out in a high pitched scream and her whip lashed out blindly in a giant S. Golden circles appeared in the air as it flashed across the dark. The demon boy screamed almost as loudly as Isabelle when the golden length of electrum wire sliced through his hand.
Clary watched as the Mark of Focus on her friend's wrist blaze red hot then had sunk-no, it was swallowed- into the skin. She quickly ducked from Isabelle's whip and watched as she laid waste to the remaining demon people. Clary and Jace ducked behind the tattered sofa in an attempt to shield themselves. Clary hissed as Isabelle's whip sliced her shoulder, Jace was quick to get out his stele and draw a quick irataz. "What's wrong with Izzy?" Jace asked.
"I don't know," Clary answered, "But I think Simon has something to do with it."
Jace raised an eyebrow at her in question. Neither said anymore. They just watched as Isabelle tore apart the remainder of their enemies.
It was four hours before the three Shadowhunters got back to the Institute. It was raining heavily and all of them were soaked through. In the rain the Institute was just a black silhouette on a black sky. Isabelle hadn't known what had happened back in the demon apartment, but she certainly felt drained from it.
As she began to climb the stairs she heard before saw the sobbing, curled figure of a young man. When he looked up Clary yelped and ran to the boy. Isabelle stood there staring at the pained, tear stained face of Simon Lewis.
All right... ummmm. I can't write much at the moment because reletives are breathing down my neck for the computer and it's 11:20pm and I'm tired.
Heads up, the next chapter is when you find out why Simon is crying.
Side note: I'm currently working on a Witchblade fanfic. I'll put out a message when I'm done with the first chapter.
Thanks for reading (and hopfully enjoying) Memory of a Night so far...
Good night all.