Hello Everyone!
I'm really excited to be updating Eden after such a ridiculously long wait. Thank you so much for your patience!
I will try to update as often as I do Morgenstern Girl, from now on... There will be a lot of chapters to follow this one in the near future!
So... without any further ado... ON WITH THE CHAPTER!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS!
Eve climbed into the black interior of the carriage, with the perfect, feminine grace Jace had come to expect from her.
Their journey from the Silent City had been relatively problem-free, he supposed; the Consul, Felix, had only accompanied them long enough to try and strike up a friendly, (all too friendly, Jace noticed), conversation with Eve – and when Inquisitor Silverspear had threatened to send Felix to a hellish, undisclosed dimension if he didn't stop making advances towards her, the Consul had moodily skulked off into oblivion.
The situation suited Jace perfectly: According to his nearly faultless instincts, the Consul was about as trustworthy around Eve as a Drevak demon was around an unsuspecting, defenseless mundane.
The three of them – Jace, Eve, and the Inquisitor – had emerged from the Silent City's ancient passageways minutes later, and Manhattan's familiar sounds and smells had resurfaced. Jace's hand rested gently on the small of Eve's back, guiding her.
It was thundering heavy sheets of rain to the pavement below, and the Inquisitor had ushered them quickly out of the muddy cemetery and onto the sidewalk with the pleasant assurance that a carriage ought to arrive there shortly.
Looking up at him, Jace finally had noticed how giant the Inquisitor really was; Silverspear was an impossibly tall man. Every inch as tall as his father (Valentine, Jace reminded himself, not his father) had been. But Argyle Silverspear was less imposing, somehow. His looming height was not matched by the hard, broad shoulders or the sharp facial features that Valentine Morgenstern had possessed. Instead, Argyle's unpolished, messy appearance pointed toward a charismatic, trustworthy personality; from the top of his carelessly windswept black hair to the untidy array of his shadowy, Inquisitor robes.
Jace caught Eve studying Silverspear expertly through her lowered eyelashes – just as their promised, fairy-tale carriage pulled up to the curb, drawn by a pair of smoke-black horses – and he quietly wondered exactly what her motives were.
Wordlessly, Eve flicked her long blonde hair behind her back and nodded gratefully as Jace helped her into the carriage's leather interior. Rain had drenched her from head to foot, he saw, turning her loose curls a richer, thicker shade of gold.
Absently, Jace stepped aside, waiting for the Inquisitor to enter into the carriage before he did, a sign of respect for authority – but Silverspear wasn't there when Jace looked. The Inquisitor was preoccupied, his tumbled, raven-haired head bent in conversation with a group of heavily armed Shadowhunters far over by the iron gate of the cemetery. Jace had hardly noticed that the group had been there – or even that the Inquisitor had left his side, he realized with some embarrassment.
Just then, Silverspear raised his head. Light from the streetlamps caught at his emerald-green eyes and black hair, making them flash a bizarre, dizzying array of colors in the rain-splattered night – not unlike the way oil shimmered with a rainbow spectrum in the light.
Jace blinked, curious if it was the storming shower that had made the Inquisitor's coloring change so much, or if it was some sort of natural phenomenon for him. But in an instant, the other man's features had returned to normal, and Jace was left to study him in confusion.
"Thank-you for your concern," Silverspear said in a smooth voice, inclining his head to the impressive group of Nephilim surrounding him, "but I doubt that your protection will be necessary, tonight."
The thunderous pounding of the rain seemed to blur his words.
"But Inquisitor," one of them protested in a low voice. His gaze shot suspiciously to the carriage. "That girl –"
"–is no threat to me." Argyle held up a long-boned, quelling hand. He was ridiculously young, for an Inquisitor, Jace recognized. All the Inquisitors before him had been in their late forties at least before being promoted to their rank. It was strange to see someone in their thirties holding the same position. "Forgive me, my brothers, but this is an order: I will be travelling with Eve to the Institute alone, without the aid of your forces… I'm hoping to bring the girl to the Lightwoods in peace – to convince them that she is no danger to them… How can I expect the Guardians of the Institute to believe Eve is harmless if I bring her to them with a fleet of soldiers standing guard?" A smile curled the Inquisitor's mouth. "And besides, I am not alone," he added wryly, raising his voice even louder to speak to Jace. "Am I, Mr. Herondale?"
Jace glanced upward at Silverspear, willing to say anything that would get him out of the pounding torrents of rain. He felt like he'd stepped into a shower – half an hour after all the hot water had run out. It wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.
"No, Inquisitor," he agreed. Rain tumbled off the ends of Jace's hair whenever he moved, threading down his face like misplaced tears.
Silverspear smiled at him. It was like they had been friends for decades.
"Thank you, Mr. Herondale," he replied gently. With an elegant swirl of his black robes, the Inquisitor turned and addressed the surrounding group of Nephilim briefly. "As you can see, I am certainly well protected… Unless any of you can find fault in Mr. Herondale's reputation for dutiful service… especially in regards to important matters of the Clave?"
No one uttered a syllable, seemingly lost for words.
Satisfied, the Inquisitor turned and strode back to their waiting carriage. "Good," he answered, swinging up into the dark, leather cab. "Our business here is finished."
After a last, smirking glance at the brooding group of men, Jace followed the Inquisitor up into the carriage, shutting the cab door behind them.
"How did you know?" the Inquisitor asked, breaking the silence in the carriage.
The ride to the Institute had been an odious one, with nothing to cut the tension between the three of them but the occasional lunge from the carriage as it passed over an unsuspecting automobile. Jace had watched, arms crossed, as Eve had spent the time gazing out the port-like window beside her, barely noticing the jolting motion of the carriage – and had also watched as the Inquisitor had spent the time staring pointedly at Eve. Like she was an unsolvable puzzle.
Eve raised her blonde head as Silverspear posed the question, looking like she had just been pulled out of a dream. "Hmm?" she replied.
"I want to know how you guessed," he explained patiently, "that the council's powers as a Silent Brotherhood was limited."
Eve's expression changed. The dream-like look faded from her eyes, and a calculating soberness surfaced in her eyes. The expression was one that Jace didn't particularly like. Probably because it reminded him of Valentine.
"It was a simple prediction," she told Argyle evenly. "Valentine killed most of the Brotherhood when he took the Mortal Sword six months ago. Which meant that anyone on your Brootherhood council was still in training. Usually, years of training is required to perform the Initiation in order to officially become one of the Brotherhood… It wasn't much of a stretch to assume that you had limits to your abilities…" She gave him a piercing look. "And apparently, I was right, considering that you asked me that question."
The Inquisitor pondered over that for a moment.
"What do you mean 'limits'?" Jace wondered in a slow, quiet voice, entering the conversation. "…I thought that you went through her mind already."
"I mean," Silverspear clarified gently, not glancing at Jace, "that no one on the council was a full-fledged Silent Brother. It is possible to conceal certain memories from us, if the person interrogated has enough power of will to resist." He tilted his head to the side, regarding Eve with curiosity. "And I'd like to know what you kept from us, Eve."
"Are you still afraid that I am guilty?"
"No." Argyle settled back into his seat. "If you were guilty, we would know about it… There are always strong ties in memories connected to emotion and motivation. I'm just curious. Whatever you kept back, it was specifically kept from the people in that room. And I want to know why."
Eve shrugged her shoulders elegantly.
"Memories are communal things, don't you think?" she murmured thoughtfully. "You create memories with other people… Perhaps I thought that those memories weren't mine to share?"
"You are an awful liar – like your father." With a soft smile, the Inquisitor leaned forward in his seat. "You told Lucian Greymark that you committed a host of crimes for the Circle; that you aided Jonathan Morgenstern in bringing down Alicante's Wards, which was all untrue." Slowly, the Inquisitor's fatherly smile widened. "You made yourself out to be a bigger criminal than you were – because you knew that if you were a high-risk convict, the Clave would notify me about it… You were looking for me all along, weren't you, Eve? And I doubt that you went through all that work to hide memories from me."
In an instant, Eve's sober expression dissolved into humor.
"Well-deduced," she replied, returning Argyle's smile indulgently. "It is true… I was searching for you… But with deductive abilities like yours, I'm sure you've already guessed what I was hiding from you, during the interrogation."
Argyle's green eyes glittered. "That is where you are wrong."
"How unfortunate." Eve turned back to the window, watching the rain thread down the pane. Her smile faded a bit, in concentration. "I will tell you what I'm keeping from you, Mr. Silverspear, when I feel you deserve to hear it; I want to see what kind of man you are, first."
That answer didn't seem to upset Argyle as much as Jace thought it would. The Inquisitor took the response with a little smile and a shrug.
"I'm not in a rush," he told her patiently.
"Good," replied Eve. "You may have to wait for awhile."
Inquisitor Silverspear chuckled to himself, for a moment – clearly amused by her answer – and then he quietly redirected his gaze to the same window that Eve was staring through. His mind seemed to be on other things… Possibly, Jace thought, on how he was going to explain Eve's past to the Lightwoods without World War III breaking out.
Jace had been thinking about it himself: after all, Eve had been engaged to Jonathan Morgenstern.
Jonathan Morgenstern who was Valentine's son.
Jonathan Morgenstern who had taken down Alicante's Wards.
Jonathan Morgenstern who had killed Max.
Nothing – not even the fact that Jonathan was dead – could take away any of those things… Jace had no idea if the Lightwoods would pity Eve or despise her for her involvement with the Morgensterns.
A sudden jolt lurched the carriage, and Jace forgot his thoughts. He braced himself, fully expecting the cab to pitch one way or another as they drove over another mundane vehicle, but he was surprised when no movement followed – that the lurch was because they had stopped, not because they were moving.
Traffic rumbled past them, like the growling of a pack of wolves.
Outside the window, Jace saw the familiar doorway of the Institute hovering just in front of them like a judgment. Light snuck out from the windows hanging above them, glowing on the pavement below, and Jace could almost imagine Maryse's slender, anxious form pacing in one of those windows – anticipating him to come home.
Everyone must have been awaiting their arrival, Jace supposed.
With an almost imperceptible sigh, Argyle opened the carriage and moved to step out of the cab – and then he suddenly stumbled forward and disappeared from view.
Jace glanced quickly at Eve, and saw her blue eyes widen in astonishment.
They both sprung into action, faster than lightening, diving toward the door – but before either of them could really move to go and help him, the Inquisitor popped up into view. He righted himself with a sheepish smile, and scratched his black hair self-consciously.
"Whoops, sorry about that," he offered ruefully, waving away their expressions of concern. "I'm alright, I'm alright."
Jace rolled his eyes at Silverspear's apparent lack of coordination, and then glanced at Eve.
She was flabbergasted, gaping at the Inquisitor as if he had just reappeared wearing a chicken suit.
Jace had to smile at her look of total horror.
"Did – did you – Did you just trip out of the carriage?" she sputtered, almost angrily.
Argyle chuckled nervously. "I suppose I did," he mused, not seeming fazed.
Without another word, the Inquisitor turned and glided to the door of the Institute, looking for all the world like nothing had just happened.
Eve's jaw dropped.
Jace swung out of the carriage – gracefully – unlike Argyle had. He looked up at Eve, offering his arm in case she needed help to get down – and was amused to see that she was still exactly where she had been a minute before, blinking, dumbfounded, in the direction of the Inquisitor.
"He – he tripped –" she stammered. "… out of… the carriage!…Who trips out of a carriage?"
Jace grinned.
"Come on, princess," Jace instructed. "Out of the carriage."
Eve took his hand and stepped down from the cab as elegantly as a flower petal, still astonished beyond speech. Although Jace found humor in seeing her reaction, he supposed that he understood it. After all, Eve had been raised by Valentine Morgenstern; and Jace knew all too well that the Circle's infamous leader would never be found tripping out of any carriage, under ANY circumstance – not even if he was dying in the process.
Soft words flowed from Eve's lips, under her breath, and it took Jace a minute to fully realize what she was saying. "Jada," he heard Eve muttering at a whisper, shaking her blonde head in disapproval. "What in the world were you thinking?"
Jada? Jace wondered silently, not asking the question out-loud. He had never heard anything about a Jada…
Wordlessly, Jace trailed after the Inquisitor, who had knocked on the Institute door, and Eve naturally fell in step behind him. With a squeal of hinges, the grand set of mahogany doors pushed opened for Argyle, revealing the cathedral-like entrance of the Institute. Candles lit the entry, and framed Inquisitor Silverspear's tall figure with a flickering army of tiny flames.
Argyle turned to face them, his expression sympathetic. "Are you ready to come, now, Eve?"
A grave air accompanied the Inquisitor's words. It occurred to Jace that so much more was meant in the question than simply – 'do you want to go inside the Institute?' His question asked – 'Are you really sure you'd like this place in the Clave? Are you truly ready to give up ties to the Circle? Is this really what you want?'
Jace revolved slightly and glanced at Eve. Her angelic face was set, resolute.
"Yes," she replied, nodding. "I think I am ready."
Both the Inquisitor and Jace turned back around, satisfied with her response, gliding quickly towards the foyer to get out of the rain – and then Jace heard a noise which made him stop and spin around. Fast.
The chaotic thrashing of wings rang in his ears.
Eve cried out.
Jace whirled around, only in time to see Eve with her pale arms up defensively, protecting her face from what looked like whipping flash of silver. In an instant, though, the ordeal was over. Jace was faintly aware of the Inquisitor's voice, calling Eve's name in alarm, and then the slight, silver creature took off, soaring up into the night with an irritable caw. It flew into the blackened, rainy, night sky – looking like the soft grey moon, hurling through the heavens. When it spread its wings, it looked about the size of a large, incorrectly-colored raven.
Nevertheless, it had been a bird.
Eve's forearms were lashed with narrow, shallow cuts when she finally dropped them, probably from the bird's claws; they oozed a thin trickling of blood.
What surprised Jace was the expression on her face – not surprised, anxious, or distraught – no; she was stony, calm, level-headed, glaring up at the sky where their violent, feathered friend had disappeared into. Her jaw was as tight as the string of a bow.
Jace thought he could still see the bird where it had landed on – what exactly had it landed on? …A decorative statue on one of the buildings? A pale stone ledge?
Jace couldn't tell, for certain. All he knew was that the bird had landed somewhere high, on top of one of the adjacent buildings – so far away that it was all but invisible to the naked eye. He also knew that the bird had settled on a perch so pale that it looked like it had been carved from an arm of marble.
The rain was too thick to make out any other details. Even with his clairvoyant senses, Jace realized.
Inquisitor Silverspear was at Eve's side before Jace could blink twice, inspecting her slender arms for damage. She kept her gaze glued to where the bird had landed. Jace wondered if she could see something that he couldn't.
"What in the hell was that?" Jace demanded at no one in particular, sounding a little breathless.
Eve's pretty lips hardened into a frown. "I have no idea," she replied cooly, her eyes not wavering. "It must have been some sort of crazy pigeon."
The image of the bird resurfaced in Jace's mind.
The animal had been twice the size of any pigeon Jace had ever seen before… Besides, he had lived in New York for years – and no pigeon had ever outright attacked him during that time…
Argyle held her wrists gently, glaring in the same direction that Eve was. In the street-light, the Inquisitor's profile was sharp and dramatic – his hair and eyes flashing that strange rainbow-color again.
Worry glinted in his eyes like jagged, emerald chips.
"Come," he beckoned in a falsely sunny voice, prying his gaze from the speck of silver bird. "Eve's wounds will heal any second. I'm sure that was nothing more than a freak coincident… We all need to get out of this weather."
Eve didn't reply.
She stared into the distance, rain streaming icily down her cheeks.
It wasn't until Argyle had tugged softly on Eve's arms that she had finally listened to him, snapping out of her reverie. Without a sound of protest, she let the Inquisitor turn her around and lead her into the foyer, but she hesitantly glanced over her shoulder every few seconds, looking toward the top of the building in front of them.
Jace took up the rear, and was unutterably grateful to finally make it into the familiar, warm entryway. He turned to close the doors, squinted up to where the bird had been – but still he could see nothing there. Nothing but the blackness of night.
Shaking his blonde head, Jace shut the mahogany doors behind them, blocking out the darkness with a screech of hinges.
Angry.
He was angry.
And he was impatient… Yes, he was that too…
He had followed their carriage all the way from the entrance to the Silent City to the front steps of the Institute, the rain pounding all over him like a heavy curtain of ice during every moment, every step… He had watched them as they had exited the Silent City, even before they had exited the cemetery, before the carriage…
Memory came and resurfaced like gasoline, igniting the flicker of his rage to an uncontrollable inferno.
The Angel-boy had been touching Her in the cemetery, he recalled with a inhuman growl.
He'd put his filthy, despicable Angel-hand on Her back.
Rigidly, his rain-drenched hands tightened into stony fists. He shook his head, dispelling the thought.
No, he realized, calming himself a bit.
No, it wasn't Her back.
It was his back.
The Angel-boy had put his hand on his back.
After all, She belonged to him; mind, body, and soul; She had been conceived, born and raised to be with him. All that She was – all that the possessed – was simply an extension of himself.
He owned Her. Every part of Her.
So the Angel-boy had merely touched a piece of himself.
But that remained enough to make him want to grab that Boy by his Angel-blonde hair and slowly choke the life out of him. That Angel-boy had no right to go near him, no right to go near Her.
Still thinking about the Angel-boy, he shifted his crouched position slightly, stretching his impatient, aching limbs. That silver bird on his shoulder – Munin – took off with a screech, diving into the star-less sky. The displaced air rustled his white hair.
Hugin, the shadow-colored bird, stayed perched to his other shoulder, gazing at him with beady black eyes much like his own.
He couldn't decide whether he wanted to reward the raven for staying, or wring its skinny neck for amusement.
He chose neither, and instead glared up into the pitch dark clouds and the vicious rain water that poured from them.
No, that Angel-boy had no business with him, he finally decided. And certainly no business with Her.
She was his, after all. She was him.
Maybe if she had been an Angel-girl, like she had been before – maybe then that Boy might have had some sort of claim on Her…
But She was his. She was him.
And she was no angel. Not any more.
With a sudden fierceness, he rose to his feet, swatting the raven off his shoulder, savagely. The bird exploded into flight with a flash of black feathers and a livid squawk, following Munin off into the dark. Rain tumbled off his slicked, transparent clothes as he stood over the edge – almost as if he were a rain-cloud himself.
He could look down and see the mundane vehicles scuttling along the road like pathetic, dark specks below. Like tiny ants.
He wondered if it would kill him to step off the edge of the building, to plummet down to the pavement miles below.
Nothing, it seemed, could ever kill him.
He was invincible.
His father had tried to make Her into an Angel-girl. But it hadn't worked. And now his father was dead.
Destiny had kept Her with him, tied Her to him.
She was his. She was him.
She was a Morgenstern – not an Angel.
She was his Morgenstern Girl.
Slowly, Jonathan Morgenstern smiled, turned, and pried away his gaze from the New York Institute
So... What did you think? Was it worth the wait?
For those of you who read Morgenstern Girl, you will understand the Jada reference... but for those who don't read Morgenstern Girl, you will hear more about her later, don't worry!
I'll update ASAP!
Love, Fishie.