I know I promised two chapters. This is the equivalent of two chapters, stuck into one to make it less work for me.
Just to clarify, this takes place after Chapter 18--Courtesy of AT&T. I skipped a few days with Isabelle and Jace because not much happened, so this pretty much picks them up after Chapter 15. If something doesn't make sense, post a review asking me to explain better. Hey, post a review anyway!
Disclaimer: My name's still not Cassandra Clare. I only wish.
Jace didn't call Clary back. He tried. Oh Lord did he try. He held his cell phone open in the air as he walked around, looking like a total idiot—not that it mattered, no one saw him—but no matter where he went the meter in the corner of the screen remained distressingly flat.
It was then that he decided they weren't New York anymore.
Days passed, and still the place was as dead as before. Isabelle got worse, the skin around her cut turning puffy and shiny red, tears falling down to paint her cheeks. Jace couldn't help her. They had no food, no water, and no weapons. They had nothing.
"Isabelle," Jace whispered, brushing back his sister's hair. "If you can hear me, I'm sorry. Even if you can't hear me, I'm sorry. I don't know where we are, but I'm going to find help. I going to get you help." He picked her up in his arms and was surprised by how little she weighed, as if she was no more than a shell with her insides scooped out. Kicking aside dusty rubble and rotting lumber, Jace made a hollow between the wall and a busted down door, tucking Isabelle inside so that she was hidden by the shadows. Anyone who came by would have to be looking for her to find her, and if anyone was looking for her, the two were pretty screwed anyway. "Hold on just a little bit longer," he whispered.
Outside it had begun to rain, fat drops of water covering his skin with their icy kisses, running in rivulets over his jeans, plastering his hair to the planes of his face. Jace spread his arms as he walked, goosebumps budding up underneath his skin as the rain turned him numb. The dried blood on his bare chest turned gooey, half-congealed, painting crimson streaks as it dripped oh-so-slowly away. It felt good, as if that might wash away everything wrong.
The streets were dead, the cement and pavement split by feathering cracks, the buildings broken and gutted, hints of their iron skeletons peeking through the concrete skin. There was no life, no weeds sprouting through the fissures, no scurrying of little rat feet, none of the click-clack of bugs skittering through the ruins, not even the sounds of traffic he'd heard when he'd first woken up. It was like every picture he'd seen of the Holocaust aftermath, the world wasted and shattered.
Jace didn't know how long he walked. An hour, maybe two. But eventually he could go no further, because he hit a wall.
Well, not exactly a wall. It looked like glamour, distorting the air around it and flickering with rainbow colors. But when he put his hand to it--a tribute to the fact that human stupidity is indeed infinite--he was thrown bodily backwards, a jolt running up his spine like a static discharge. Jace landed ten feet away in a puddle of stagnant water that gave his skin a faintly green taint where it touched. His veins were fizzing madly, as if he'd just finished drinking a six-pack of Pepsi Max, and his hair crackled with electricity. Scrambling up, he approached the wall once more, this time keeping a respectful distance.
Through it, he could see New York. He wasn't exactly sure where, but it was without a doubt New York, complete with ridiculous traffic, screaming people and steel-spire skyscrapers. But what caught his attention was the quartet of people standing just on the other side, staring right at him, but straight through him at the same time.
Clary. She looked as if she hadn't slept in days; her eyes purpled and lidded, her hair frizzy and wild. There was some device in her hand that she kept glancing at, her face wrinkled in confusion and worry. A GPS? On one side of her were Maryse and Robert, dressed all in black, and seemingly worse for wear. They were holding hands. Jace had never seen his adoptive parents hold hands.
Behind the three of them stood Luke, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, arms over his chest, wound as tight as a Presidential bodyguard. He was the only one who looked together in any way, shape or form.
"Clary!" Jace yelled, clutching his side as his wound roared in protest. Nix the yelling. "Maryse! Robert! Luke!" But they just looked past him, even though there was nothing there worth looking at. "Mom! Dad! Clary!"
Clary moved, but not towards him. Instead, she turned to Maryse and Robert, the imprint of tears shimmering on her cheeks, though it might've been the deformations of the wall. Jace fought to read her lips as she spoke. He's not here. Let's go.
"No!" He dashed forward, stopping just short of the wall. He had to resist the urge to bang on it for all he was worth. "I'm here! Clary! Mom! Dad! I'm here!" But it did no good. The four of them walked silently away, melding seamlessly into the bustling crowd.
Jace sank to his knees, all the hope that had sprung into his heart draining away like water down a sink.
Behind him, someone laughed.
"Hello?" he said, half-turning, splaying one hand on the slippery asphalt to keep his balance. "Hello? Is someone there?" Even though it dealt blow after blow to his pride, he forced himself to continue. "Can you help me?"
From nowhere and everywhere at once came a loud, chiming voice that cut through the storm. "Two little Shadowhunters lost their way, one roams uselessly through world of gray, the other lies in musty tomb of steel and stone, waiting for the time when she will die alone."
"Who are you?" Jace asked, running his eyes over every inch of the street that looked the same as it had five minutes ago. "What do you know about Isabelle?"
Another laugh, hoarse and mocking. Blood rushed to color Jace's cheeks in an angry blush. "A fading, sputtering flame, lazing tired, weak and lame, watched over by shadows and night, eagerly waiting their chance for a bite."
An image swam up to fill Jace's mind. Isabelle, nearly dead, being carried away by man-shaped shadows wielding wicked knives that glittered like glass. There was no way to know if it was real or not. If he was somehow seeing something that was actually happening, or if it was just his imagination working against him.
"Liar!"
"Lie liar lying, the little girl is crying." In the middle of the street appeared a man, tall and stick-thin with long purple hair that danced in the wind. His skin was white as paper, peppered with dark sores that showed glimpses of the bone beneath and dripped black fluid, turning the rain gray. The left half of his face had rotted away, the permanent rigid grin giving him a look both amused and sinister. His hair sprouted straight from the yellowed skull.
"What are you?" Jace gasped, his breath catching. Jace, who had faced down--and killed--more demons than most Shadowhunters saw in a lifetime, who welcomed danger with open arms and a "come and get me", gasped at the sight of this monster. Maybe it was the fact that even though the rain continued to thunder down around them, not a drop touched him, the water fizzing into nonexistence inches from his skin. Maybe it was the way he beamed, as if all of this was a game--one he was winning. Or maybe it was just because he was the creepiest shit Jace had ever seen.
All those demons and this decaying man scared him more. That had to say something.
The creature snapped his fingers, and a red-and-yellow polka dot umbrella appeared in one long-fingered hand. He twirled it a few times; cutting clear paths through the downpour that disappeared as soon as they formed. "One which walks the world of gray," he said, lifting the umbrella high enough over his head so that the rain hit it and surged over the sides in roaring rivulets. "One descended from the fey."
"Where am I?" Jace asked, spitting out water just so more could flood his mouth. Slowly, warily, he got to his feet, wishing for the millionth time that he had an angel blade, or a knife. Heck, he would've given his ear for just a crowbar. But he balled his hands into fists and made do.
"Are you dense?" the creature asked, the right side of his face twisted with disappointment, his single eyebrow moving to where it might've met the other, had there been another. "Have you lost all trace of sense? I've said it now no less than twice. Oh well," he sighed and shrugged. "I suppose you shall suffice."
"Suffice to what?"
His ecstatic grin returned, and the darkness of his left eye socket seemed to spark with life. "Fancy a shower?" he asked, flicking the umbrella closed and shaking off the beading water in Jace's direction. "Wash off that look so nasty and sour? You must be clean, if we're to take you to the Queen."
"What?" Jace said, taking a step back.
The creature moved faster than he would've thought possible. One second, he was a good ten feet away. The next, he was right beside Jace, every detail of his rotting skin thrown into clarity. Maggots crawled through his sores like worms in dirt, and a spider had made its web in the space where the missing half of his nose should've been. Jace's stomach churned, but there was nothing to throw up.
"No!" he said, lifting his foot to move away. But the creature performed another of his blindingly fast moves, and suddenly he was gripping Jace's arm hard enough to break bones, the tips of his violet hair blowing forward to brush the Shadowhunter's face, soft as a caressing hand. Where the two touched, Jace's skin burned.
"Get off of me!"
Laughing, the creature raised the umbrella, bringing it down over Jace's head. There was a crack like gunfire, and the boy went limp, shadows looming to swallow him up. Detachedly, he felt the maggots leave his attacker's skin and scuttle over his, tickling him with their feet. He felt it when he hit the ground, hard, and blood welled up under his hair, mixing with the rain.
He had just enough time to think, Not again, before the blackness claimed him.
"Two little Shadowhunters lost their way…"
Can you guys put up with three more Jace and Isabelle chapters? Or do I have to cut them down to the bare minimum to not lose readers?
Jace is seriously out of character. Sorry. You can help make this better. Review.