"Clary, you have to come!" a disembodied voice pleaded over the stall that look like an oversized white shutter for a window. Another shimmery expensive dress flipped over the top, and Clary watched from the bench by the dressing room. She sighed, glancing at the many bags at her feet.
"I really can't, I-I mean it's probably not a good idea." Clary bit at her nail, looking longingly at the boutique exit. This was the sixth store they had been at. Isabelle may have found and bought some beautiful dresses, but she definitely had not found "the" dress.
"But you have too," Clary could almost picture Isabelle pouting from the other side, "My friend Jessica cancelled, and I can't go to a club alone, it's like really dangerous and totally lame." Clary couldn't figure where her obligation came in just because Isabelle's friend canceled, but it weighed on her, and she could feel herself wavering.
"I've never been to a club, I'd slow you down." Clary replied, huffing under her breath. She couldn't go to Idris, even if the club was far from the house, and even though her father would never step into one. It was dangerous business. She might as well walk on top a landmine and open it's inactive.
"I could invite Jace." She teased and Clary jerked her head up, blushing and then shook her head, again looking to the clear glass exit, hoping that she would be sucked through them. Jace and Luke had been in the kitchen this morning, talking in low voices, huddled around the dining table. Luke appeared to have changed the subject when he noticed her walk in. Clary could vaguely gather what they were talking about, mainly because of the huge blowout the evening before. She assumed they had come to an agreement, because when Isabelle was picking her up, Jace and Luke were working on fixing a broken stable like nothing had happened. In weird way she was relieved, like earth was orbiting normally.
"I can't imagine a worse bribe." She said absently, gathering her thoughts.
"Then why are you blushing?"
Clary jumped and turned to the dressing room to see Isabelle standing, a sparkling red dress draped tightly around her slim figure and curvy hips. She glittered in the reflective spotlights and mirror.
"Wow, that dress is beautiful." Clary stood up as Isabelle smiled, standing on her toes in front of the mirror.
She whirled around and clapped, "I know it's perfect!"
"So you gonna buy it." Clary began looping her arms through a few of the bags, readying to leave.
"Nah-ah! We got to get you a dress!" Isabelle exclaimed, surveying the choices in the surrounding racks. Clary plopped down on the bench, letting the bags flops by her feet.
"You really don't have to do that, I can't go-,"
"Nonsense, you have to come, I mean – please, I really don't want to go alone." Isabelle looked to her with the biggest pleading eyes. Clary bit at her lip and looked up to the ceiling. Her excitement was infectious, and to be truthful, Clary had a thirst for something fun and rebellious, if not a small self-destructive side. She made a big show of looking reluctant but acquiesced.
"Fine, I'll go." Isabelle jumped excitedly, "But, we can't stay too late and NOT a word to Luke." She paused and the pointed at Isabelle, "or Jace!"
Isabelle mimed zipping her lips, and then something caught her eye; she gasped, "That one, that one is perfect for you!" Clary followed Isabelle dizzying pace, as she ping-ponged from one subject to another like an overstimulated squirrel.
Clary turned giving a skeptical look at the dress rack she was pointing at; it was a green dress, dark green and sequined all throughout. The sleeves were long, and the dress looked like it wrapped in layers most likely settling right above the knees.
"I don't know, it might be too much." Isabelle already had it off the rack and was lifting it up by the arms to Clary's neck, "Perfection is never a waste of money." She said with a sniff, and then shoved Clary into the dressing room. Clary wondered what it felt like to have limitless money, she assumed her family was well-off, but she had never seen a cent of it.
She looked at the dress, and then at the mirror. Her face still bruised, her arms still bandaged. The white tape, fraying at the ends, loosened near her wrist; red, angry marks poking out with taunting purpose. Her father's image rose to her mind's surface like a shadow; like an oncoming storm with low thunder. Her hands tightened around the fabric of the dress.
"I just found this awesome necklace! Here take it." Isabelle's manicured hand suddenly poked from over the stall.
Clary blinked, tearing her eyes from the mirror and took the necklace and began to undress.
She slipped the dress on; Isabelle had gotten her size right. The zipper was on the side and she easily zipped it up. The dress hugged her hips and loosened around her thighs like an upside down tulip. She swished back and forth, admiring the softness on the fabric; the green brightening her pale face and complimenting her eyes. The sleeves were long, and tight against her arms, she winced when she pulled at the sleeves but the pain quickly faded.
She smiled a little, taking the necklace around her neck. Then she pulled her hair out of the necklace and placed it forward to frame her face. Her auburn locks curling down her shoulders and over the low V neck.
She pulled at the sleeves once more, and then stepped out. Isabelle, who was still perusing the jewelry, turned at the sound of the door. She skipped at seeing the dress and then squealed excitedly, "We're going to be the hottest girls in the club." She stopped and looked contemplatively at Clary's legs. Clary, toed the ground and gave a wary glance towards Isabelle. Isabelle grabbed her hands and pulled her to the accessories section, "Just need some tights to hide those bandages and we are good to go!"
Clary glanced at the tights, her eyes targeting the prices – which were frankly ridiculous for the thin piece of fabric. She let go of Isabelle's hands, "I think I can manage without them." Clary mumbled. Isabelle followed her gaze and grabbed one of her hands again, squeezing it. "Hey, let me be nice, for once. I don't have a great wrap for being nice, let me be the good girl."
Clary looked down narrowing her gaze at her feet, worrying about her hand sweating with nervousness in Isabelle soft one. "If you're sure." She muttered while delicately extracting her hand from Isabelle and looking up. Isabelle beamed, "Definitely!"
Several purchases later, Clary had been dragged to Isabelle's home. Isabelle's room was French inspired and was almost the size of Luke's house. Her bed could fit four of her comfortably, and was adorned with white bed spread with gold vines embroidered along it. There were more throw pillows than Clary could count, and two large windows faced the west that opened to a balcony and overlooked a lake. They were draped with white and gold curtains that looped around and hid the white rods.
She had a sitting area, with a velvet, rose-pink colored love seat and sofa; in the center was a glass table with an ornate green and pink tea set. Above it all was multi-tiered crystal chandelier. Her room sparkled.
Clary carefully sat at the edge of the loveseat, and wiped her hands on her pants. "This rooms is very pretty." Isabelle plopped on the adjacent sofa and gave her room a critical look, "Yeah, thinking about changing it up a bit. Feeling about doing a more rustic look, I really like red right now." She looked at Clary, tilting her head, almost like there was an unsaid question.
Clary opened and closed her mouth a few times, "Yeah, that sounds cool, I mean, this is nice though." She ran her hand down the soft velvet.
"I know, right! Got them straight from Paris." She enthused, and then grabbed her phone from her pocket in answer to a "bzzt" noise. She laughed at something glowing off her screen and began tapping away a reply.
Clary stalled for a second, and bit her lip out of habit, "I should call Luke, to let him know I'm sleeping over." Clary and Isabelle has formulated a plan to tell Luke she would be staying at Isabelle's. Formulated a plan may be a strong phrase, more like Isabelle suggested it, and Clary latched on like drowning passenger to a floating raft. It had not been particularly fleshed out, for one thing, Clary didn't have the slightest idea how to tell Luke this.
Clary pictured Luke's reaction to her going to Idris, or ever to her lying to him. His heavy eyebrows collapsing together. His shoulders drawing up, and his face tightening darkly. Just the night before, when she read by his side, she remembered him taking off his glasses and giving her a good look. She could feel the heat of his stare, but resolutely looked down to her book. He asked her if she was from Idris, or if her journey was further than that. She evaded the question, but Luke looked like he got his answer. He had been throwing small questions like that ever since he found out someone was trying to kill her. He never outright asked her who was trying to kill her, due to her reaction when she first admitted the issue.
It would be better if he didn't suspect an issue with Idris at all. The thought of him finding out gave her an overwhelming wave of anxiety, more so than the thought of running into her father in a club, of all places. Her hands clenched around her stomach, looking at Isabelle's phone nervously.
"Maybe this isn't a good idea."
"Oh no, don't chicken out now, we already bought the dresses." Isabelle looked crestfallen, she held out her phone, the cat charm dangled from the top of the phone, clinking against the display, "Please Clary!"
Clary remembered Isabelle holding her hand tightly, excitedly holding up earing to her ears. The warmness, and laughter, the utter kindness and freedom that Isabelle brought. More importantly, the ridiculous amount of money Isabelle spent on her. Clary sighed, "Ok, I'll do it." She resolved.
Isabelle handed Clary her phone and Clary dialed. Luke answered the phone after the third ring, there was a loud sound hammers and saws; he was still repairing one of the stables with Jace, like she had seen earlier.
"Luke Garroway." His gruff voice broadcasted from the speakers. Clary swallowed, and then shakily exhaled. The phone suddenly felt slippery in her sweating hands.
"Hello?"
Clary coughed, "Hey, uh, hi Luke."
Suddenly a loud whirring sounds burst through the phone, "Ah just a sec, let me get somewhere quieter."
Isabelle was glaring at her, "Clary, calm down, he'll totally see through you if your voice is shaking like that." She whispered insistently.
Clary took a few steadying breaths.
The sounds lowered and she heard a door closing, "Ok, back in my office – who is this?"
"Hey Luke, its Clary." She said, her voice much steadier.
"Hey, something wrong." His voice lowered, abruptly serious. Clary could literally hear his eyebrows scrunching together. Her heart beat quickened, and her stomach turned as she widened her eyes at Isabelle. Why did she ever agree to lie? She was terrible at this.
"Oh no, nothing's wrong." Her voice raised an octave and then Isabelle rolled her eyes snatching the phone from Clary's hands. Clary anxiously wiped her hands on her shirt, half a movement away from scooting from the phone, as if it was liable to explode.
"Hey Mr. Garroway, yeah, Clary is sleeping over. Yeah, she wanted to check with you first but she's thinks you'll say no or something." Isabelle paused and then nodded, "Uh-huh, yeah, totally, just us two. Thanks Mr. Garroway. Bye" She hung up and gave Clary an incredulous look.
"What?" She said defensively, bring one of her hands up to her arms.
"You could've warned me that you were the worst liar ever on this planet. A 2 year old could figure you out." She huffed. Clary shifted uncomfortably under Isabelle's exasperated stare. Clary wasn't very practiced in the art of lying. She remember the few terrible lies she told her father. Clary shook from Isabelle's gaze, unwilling to delve in those memories. Isabelle lightly smacked Clary's arm, "Loosen up, Clary, I'm just giving you a hard time." Isabelle giggled.
Clary smiled fractionally, meeting Isabelle's glittering eyes.
"C'mon, let's get fixed up for this party!" Isabelle, still giggling, grabbed Clary's hand, and dragged her to her bathroom.
After a few hours, Clary found that Isabelle was a master. She approached make-up with the seriousness of calligrapher writing a letter. Every stroke was deliberate and smooth, unrushed and practiced. She completely made over Clary, doing her makeup and curling her hair, hiding her bandages with tights and sleeves. Covering her bruises with foundation like they were never there. She did both of them in no time. When Clary saw herself in the mirror, her eyes bugged out. She could hardly believe that she looked, well, pretty.
"You look gorgeous! All the guys will be all over you!" the prospect of male attention quickly brought a picture of Jace, half-smirking, while leaning on the bed of his truck. This both infuriated and confused Clary.
"Guys?" Clary flushed, "I don't think so." She pulled her sleeve down past her wrist. She was not one to be falsely humble, but she had enough emotional baggage to sink an airplane, much less form any semblance of a relationship. She really wasn't one do to flings, if she any comprehension what that was besides what she had seen emblazoned on magazines at the grocery store.
"Oh, you never had a boyfriend?" Isabelle ask with surprised wide eyes.
Clary thought briefly of the boy that used to walk out to the lake a mile from her house. Horn-rimmed glasses, skipping rocks across the cool blue surface, reflecting his contemplative face. His startled look on his face at seeing her. Simon. Clary thanked heavens that her father never knew about him, not the Clary knew much – just a chance meetings over the past spring months, a few hours a day before Clary was left to run home before anyone knew she was missing. His continuously perplexed and worried look, but he covered it well with layered sarcasm and self-deprecation. She had not seen him in weeks, she wondered if he noticed.
"No." Clary looked to her nails, running her finger over the smooth green nail polish.
Isabelle rose an eyebrow at her response, "Well, maybe we'll meet Mr. Right."
Clary rolled her eyes, "I'm fifteen Isabelle, I don't even know if they'll allow me in a club."
"Don't worry, this club is all ages, and they'll definitely let us in." Isabelle winked, and pulled out the wand from the mascara container, running it across her eyelashes.
It took almost an hour to get from Hollendale to Idris – the sun had set and the night had come, gleaming down on Isabelle shining sports car. Thankfully, Isabelle had done most of the talking, so Clary idly listened while watching the scenery change from pretty woods and green foliage to hard concrete and luminous glass. Something about the hard edges of the city reminded Clary of the sharp lines of her father's face. She hated Idris but reluctantly loved its recalcitrant structures, its unforgiving heat and bitter colds, because that was all she was familiar with.
Isabelle parked in a nearby parking garage and they headed toward the club. Clary wobbled a bit when she walked, still unused to the heels on her shoe. They were hardly as tall as Isabelle's but she was never accustomed to these types of shoes. A car drove past, beeping at them, Clary jumped at the sound and Isabelle laughed, her purse singing wildly in her hands, beautifully carefree. A stark contrast, to Clary's tense rigid gait next to Isabelle. Isabelle stopped, and grabbed the side of her arm.
"Relax Clary, they're just showing appreciation." then Isabelle flipped her hair and began walking once more. Clary figured they could show appreciation in less loud, and startling way or not show it at all. She felt uncomfortable being seen as anything but plain, old Clary. A girl who was hardly glamorous, and stumbled on flat ground, and whose hair was usually a tangled nuisance than this shiny curling state that Isabelle has tamed it to.
When they reached the club, there was a line running for ages, girls were dressed in similar attire to Clary and Isabelle or full out rave gear. The men varied from jeans and a t-shirt, to garish neon shirts, to shirtless with only a vest. Clary bit her lip, looking away as one of the men in line looked her up and down with a creepy smile. Isabelle just moved confidently to the front, usurping the line to a burly, straight-faced man at the door. He looked no older than forty, but with the amount of tattoo's on his arms, and the gun holster on his hip, made Clary feel unusually nervous.
The man seemed to recognize Isabelle with the way he nodded at her, "Isabelle, it's been a while." Isabelle jumped up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck before pulling back, "Jason, when did you start manning the door?" He face warmed with a smile, like surly but affectionate uncle. "Mark's lazy ass is in bed with Flu or some shit like that." He said in a brusque but joking manner.
Isabelle pouted, "Too bad, Mark's my favorite!"
He barked out a laugh, "Get outta here, who always gets you free drinks?!"
"Not much good that does me with you playing door man."
He shook his head, "I still got ways. You going in or what?"
"I wanted to show my friend the city life." Isabelle grabbed around Clary's shoulders, drawing her closer to her side. Jason winked at Clary, "Be careful with this girl, she knows how to party." He allowed them in, and Clary shyly smiled following after Isabelle. Clary stepped back at the music that practically shook the building. It was dark, and laser lights erratically flashing around the whole club. People were huddled close to a DJ in the center dancing. Isabelle grabbed Clary's hand and pulled her through the crowd.
People didn't move, no matter how much Clary jostled on them. She mumbled "excuse me" and took care not to step on shoes but no one appeared too noticed as the bumped into her, jumping a dancing about. She felt the vague inklings of panic thrusting up out of her rapidly beating heart but then they stopped, in a small cleared gap in the middle of the dance floor, Clary took a breath. Isabelle looked as calm and put together as usual, and eyed the crowd.
"I'm going to get us a drink, what do you want?" Isabelle yelled over the pulsating music. Clary looked around in the dizzying light display and the warmth and musty sweat smell of the dance floor. She couldn't think of anything better then stepping outside. "Anything." She yelled back. Isabelle nodded and disappeared in the crowd. Clary closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. She could barely hear a word over it with the overly amped up base and the loud yelling of the DJ. She was jarred out of her reverie at an especially loud scream from a girl right beside her, dancing jerkily around like a tangled marionette. Clary dodged her arm and craned her neck to see where Isabelle had gone. It has been perhaps ten minutes since she had left to get Clary a drink. Clary's eyes zoned on the sparkly red dress at the bar. Isabelle was currently engrossed in a conversation with a tall, dark haired stranger who appeared to be offering her a drink.
Clary, sighed and then wriggled through the crowd towards what looked like an emptier part of the club. She arrived at a darkened sitting area, on the love seat, was a couple that appeared to be entangled in a passionate moment with each other. Clary quickly averted her eyes to open seat, and took it. Her calves gave us a sigh of relief at not sitting on ridiculously unnatural heels. She was only there for a moment before Isabelle appeared with two thin stemmed glasses with red liquid and olives on toothpicks in them. It's like Isabelle had an alarm for when Clary was no longer uncomfortably not-dancing on the dance floor. She prayed that Isabelle didn't cajole her back to the floor, she didn't think she could bear more stranger's bodies colliding with her own.
She handed her one, "Bartender special." Clary frowned at the drink and Isabelle patted her knee, "Don't worry totally non-alcoholic." Clary took a drink and it tasted like cherry, it was smooth and fizzled a bit with carbonation.
"It's good.' She mumbled, and Isabelle took a seat beside her.
"So what do you think?' She said, her voice raising a little at the last word. Clary was having troubles understanding Isabelle's expectant look, and Isabelle shook her for second, "C'mon, I'm talking about him, over there, his name is Adrian."
Clary eyed the man still sitting at the bar, looking directly at them, he was thin, dressed in a well-fitted suit with curly brown hair. She couldn't quite make out his features, "He's cute, and do you like him?"
Isabelle started to say something but they were interrupted.
"Clary?" a voice, a male voice called out. Clary's blood ran cold, she nearly dropped her drink. She quickly got up, and turned finding herself face to face to a face she hadn't seen in ages. Simon was gaping at her, looking like she was a ghost. "I thought you died?" Clary ducked a bit, and looked around seeing if anyone heard him. Clary shushed him, and pulled him further into the siting area where they were no tongue-battling couples.
Isabelle followed, looking sharply at Clary, "Died?" she sputtered. Clary waved her off.
"Simon, I-I didn't expect to see you here." The unsaid request for him to leave went unnoticed as her stared at her with startling anguish and happiness muddled together in his murky hazel eyes.
Simon shook his head, "I went to the lake, your brother, he said you got sick and died, but you're right here, this doesn't make any sense-," He was near pacing, and Clary kept looking behind them.
"Simon, stop, can we talk about this somewhere else." Clary whispered urgently. Isabelle looked quizzically at her, "Are you going to tell me about this? Is that why you were so hurt, Jace said you got hurt falling in the woods or something." She huffed, "I knew that was true!" Clary looked up, wondering how this night could get any worse.
"She was hurt?" Simon gaped, "Did someone hurt you?"
"Simon, hold on. Isabelle, I'll tell you later." Isabelle didn't move and Clary saw that guy, Adrian, arrive close to where they were talking, "It looks like Adrian is waiting for you over there, can you give Simon and I a second." Clary pleaded. Isabelle looked back to the man who was holding another drink, he gave her a smile. Isabelle sighed, "Fine, but you're telling me what's going on when we get back to my house."
Clary nodded, anxiety clouding and muddling her thoughts. She turned to Simon who was still staring at her like he couldn't believe it. He brought his hand up to her face, touching her cheek, and then pulled back quickly.
"I can't believe it! It was horrible when he told me, he said you never said anything about me, I just thought-" He was babbling, running his hands through his hair. Clary didn't think anyone would care that she had died, and even in all her fear, she felt the warmth of their friendship.
"Simon, you can't tell anyone that I was here, that you ever saw me."
"But why, your brother was so broken up about this-,"
"He was?" Clary interrupted doubtfully. Simon narrowed his eyes, as if he was making a connections that Clary wasn't entirely sure she was comfortable with. "What's going on?" He asked.
"I can't tell you right now, but I will be dead if anyone finds out I'm alive, especially my brother." She didn't know why she told Simon that, she hadn't told anyone about the danger of her family
Through all the trauma that she had been throughout her life, she never expressed how dangerous her family was. . She wondered if her brother had even felt guilt, he didn't kill her but he might as well have. He left her.
Simon abruptly paled, seeming like he was going to faint and Clary began to doubt her decision of telling Simon anything.
Suddenly Simon grabbed her by the arm and brought he down a dark hallway, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, your brother -," He's breathing heavily and then started jogging forcing Clary to jog after him.
"Simon, wait up, can you stop for a second, where are we going?"
Simon look at her with such blatant terror that Clary couldn't fathom what was going on until he said "Your brother is here."
Clary stopped dead in her tracks, jerking Simon backwards, she pulled herself out of her grasp, "Why, he wouldn't be allowed to do this?!" Clary pulled her hands around her arms, looking behind her quickly to ensure no one was following them.
"I convinced him, y'know to get his mind off things – and he um… went to the bathroom and I bumped into you, and I don't know when he'll be looking for me, but I believe you." He looked at her and then frantically at the doors that would lead them out. His words washed over, any type of belief in her was unprecedented, and she didn't know how afraid she was of him thinking she was lying until the tense knot in her stomach unraveled.
"Ok." She answered and they began running down the darkened corridor once more, they reached the back alley of the club and quickly rushed down a few blocks putting as much space between the club and themselves.
They both stopped, leaning against an alley trying to catch their breath. Simon was wheezing, clearly not used to the strenuous physical activity. Every sounds that echoed in the streets sounds like someone following them, but it was only Clary's amplified anxiety. She imagined Isabelle worriedly looking for her, asking around by name, and making friends with her brother, she felt a chill run down her spine. "How are we going to get Isabelle? What if she starts asking around about me?" She tried to figure out how to tell Isabelle to leave. She imagined ridiculous scenarios of sending coded messages through air vents.
Simon pulled out his phone and started texting, Clary looked at him incredulously, "what are you doing?"
"I'm telling your brother that I had to leave to go home, and maybe I can get him to go home before Isabelle knows you're missing."
"My brother has a phone?" Clary felt slightly offended about how much had changed in a few days after her leaving. Was her father trying to bribe her brother into keeping quiet? He had so much more freedom than she did.
Simon's phone chirped and his shoulder loosened with what appeared to be relied, "It looks like he's going to drive home."
"He has a car?!" Now Clary was definitely offended by this. Simon laughed, "Geez Clary, I don't know a thing about you."
Clary blushed, "I don't know Isabelle's phone number, and I can't go back yet. Maybe you can go back?"
Simon scoffed, "I'm not leaving you alone." His face was resolute, and Clary smiled.
"Here, I know a place we can stay for like an hour and then head back." He offered her his hand, and she took it. His hand was sweaty but solid, it wasn't as soft as Isabelle's but it made her feel abnormally safe. They walked at a slower pace for about 10 minutes to a local coffee shop. When they entered, the sound and lights were lower and warm. Clary sighed, relieved to have a place that was not quite as loud as the club. She took a seat and looked at the murals all over the walls, of faeries and dragons, and bookshelves lined the walls. Clary figured if she had a normal life that she would regularly hang out here.
Simon returned with two steaming mugs and sat across from her. He gave her a cup, and Clary smelled the chocolate from the mug. It reminded her of late night talks with her mom, in the brief moments of quiet, respite from danger and yelling. They shared hot cocoa, the drink warmed Clary's stomach scaring off the cold fear that still dripped in the sweat down her back.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Simon asked, and Clary jerked from her thoughts, Simon's mouth twisted in a hesitant smile, "Or you know, you don't have to, we can just sit here drinking hot chocolate." He took a quick drink and grimaced as the hot drink burned his throat.
Clary pondered what it would be like to know Simon in a different time. Like if she went to a normal high school, and he was her best friend that hung out by her locker and them walking from school together, shooting the breeze. A pang of jealousy for the imagined life cause her to crease her brow.
He grabbed her hand. "Clary, I want to help." She was startled by the touch, but she was always surprised when someone touched her. It was like she was always ready to jump from physical contact. She shook her head.
Clary smiled, "Simon, I don't want you to get hurt, if you know too much, you could be in danger." Simon put his cup down, "Yeah, danger is bad – I suppose, but it also sucks if you don't have anyone on your side."
Clary bit her lip, "My father is dangerous, but he doesn't know I'm alive. The best thing you could do is keep quiet."
Simon huffed, "I'm the master of silence, the guardian of secrets, the quietest, most inconspicuous secret keeper ever seen." He said waving his hands around. Clary giggled, happy to have the familiar presence of him around. She and Simon had only know each other for a little while, but he understood her more than her own brother. He was disarming and unassuming.
For the next hour, they caught up, Clary explained that she was staying near Hollendale, but didn't tell him that she was planning as getting as far away as she could as soon as possible. Simon talked about school, and his plans to go to college, and how he wanted to leave Idris as well.
"We should get back, and find Isabelle." Clary looked worriedly to darkened streets. Simon got up, taking their cups and putting them in a tray for dirty dishes.
Simon and she agreed to take a roundabout way back to the club, the back door didn't open so they had to go through the front door. They were stopped by the front door, Jason grabbed Simon roughly away from Clary.
"Hey hands off!" Simon attempted to shrug away and Clary blinked at the rough display of the man.
"Its fine, he's ok." Clary insisted and the man looked at her, "Isabelle is looking for you and she said she saw you last with this guy. Said you were in danger." The gentle giant façade had melted from their last meeting, to this calculate man, looking ready to hurt the harmless looking boy.
"Please, just let him go, can you call Isabelle for me, I don't have her number." The man looked at her with a sharp look, and curled his lip at Simon before letting him go. He pulled out his phone, and not 5 minutes later a harried looking Isabelle appeared. She grabbed her in a full hug, "Oh my God, I thought you died, I thought someone kidnapped you." She pulled back but her hands around her arms still, shaking her slightly, "Why didn't you tell me you left." Isabelle looked at the verge of tears.
Clary felt her stomach turn with guilt, "I'm sorry, don't cry," Isabelle appeared to have already cried, long tracks of mascara marring her face. "I didn't have your number but I had to get out of there." Clary explained but did not elaborate. After a lapse of silence in Isabelle's death grip, "Please can we go?" Clary felt uncomfortable just standing in the middle of the street. Isabelle ran her hands nervously down her hair, "Yeah, let's go to my car." Isabelle sighed, wiping at her eyes.
Simon made to follow but Isabelle glared at him, "I don't think he should come." Obviously Isabelle still thought Simon was danger, which was laughable really, with his wiry frame and large glasses.
"Isabelle he's fine." Clary turned to him, "Hey, I'm going back, so you can maybe go home." Isabelle looked visibly relieved by this plan.
"Right," Simon frowned but then pulled out a receipt and a pen from his pockets, he scribbled something on it, "Here take my number, let me know when you're safe, ok?" Simon asked. Clary took the number and nodded, but she wasn't sure if she would call him – she really didn't want him to be placed in more danger.
He hugged her before she could even form a thought, and then quickly shoved his hands into his pockets. Clary, smiled a little.
"C'mon, Clary, let's get home." Isabelle insisted, she appeared exhausted and stressed, completely out of the norm from her normal self. Or the self that Clary was accustomed to. Clary looked guiltily to Isabelle, it was crime to take away the faerie-like quality from Isabelle.
Clary followed Isabelle to the car and they got in, then Isabelle look to her as if she was bracing herself for Clary's reaction to something, "I have to call Luke."
Clary jerked back, why on earth would she call Luke, "but everything is fine, I'm not hurt, I'm OK." Isabelle fiddled with the charm on her phone, "I know but, I didn't know what to do, I couldn't find you and that guy said you were supposed to be dead! What was I supposed to think? After 30 minutes, I needed someone's to help. I called him like 20 minutes ago, I told him everything and he said he was heading over here. So I got to let him know that he doesn't need to come over here." Isabelle rambled, and Clary decided she was not having a good day. Clary nodded, "It's Ok, I understand." She replied.
Isabelle's face loosened and she took a breath, dialing Luke. Clary looked out the window to the empty parking lot wondering if she told him about Simon's conversation. She never mentioned anything about Simon, or the fact that everyone thought she was dead. She couldn't think of any way to talk herself out of explaining it to Luke.
"Hi Mr. Garroway, yeah I found her. She's okay and we're heading back." Isabelle paused, nodding her head and looking to Clary, "I'm so sorry, I know." Clary wondered if Luke was lecturing Isabelle, and felt bad to have gotten Isabelle in trouble. "You want to talk to her?" Isabelle gave her a side-eye glance. Clary clenched her fist, taking a deep breath, she minutely shook her head but Isabelle ignored it, and held out the phone. Clary reluctantly took it.
She slowly put the phone to her ear, her heart beating loudly in her chest, "Hi Luke." Her voice lowered, almost a whisper.
"I'm glad you're OK." Luke's relieved voice came from the speaker. For only knowing her a short while, he was always uncommonly worried about her safety. The fierce protectiveness he expressed was unnerving and made her uncomfortable. She was used to fending on her own. "Yeah, I was just with a friend."
"But not sleeping over safely in Hollendale." His voice was still low, but she could hear tremors of anger, or maybe she imagined them. It was hard to tell with Luke. He seemed to always hover between disappointment and worried frustration when talking to Clary. Clary swallowed, "I'm really sorry."
He sighed, and there was a beat of silence that made dread fill into Clary like a leaking ship, "We can talking about everything when you get home, especially this dying business."
Clary looked sharply to Isabelle but she didn't appear to notice. When Isabelle said everything, she really meant everything. "It's not what you think."
Luke laughed, in a dark, defeated way, "I'm a little too tired to hear you downplay and lie to me Clary. You're coming straight home, right?" He asked, his voice had a firm edge to it.
Clary winced. "Yes, we are, I'm sorry."
"Alright, I'll be there." He said and then hung up, not even acknowledging her apology. She could practically feel his disappointment and anger reverberating through the phone. She closed her eyes tightly and gave Isabelle the phone.
The car ride was mostly silent back, and it was shorter without the traffic in the city. They got to Luke's house 40 minutes later and Clary saw Jace's truck parked out front. She inwardly groaned, dealing with an angry Luke was one thing, dealing with a self-righteous Jace was another thing entirely.
Isabelle's car rolled to a stop, "Hey, I'm sorry about making you come with me tonight." She twisted the rings on her finger. Clary thought that Isabelle would hate her, for ruining her night. She was surprised by the apology and gave her a smile, "I came on my own, and I did have fun for the little bit of it." Clary neglected to mention that she really only enjoyed going to the coffee shop. "Sorry for scaring you, I didn't want to ruin your night."
Isabelle smiled back, "Yeah, but hey, you'll let me know how it goes, I don't want you to get hurt. Luke will know what to do." She said with such confidence that Clary nearly grimaced. The amount of people telling her to listen to Luke was annoying. There was a knock at the window and Clary looked up to see Jace opening the door.
"You going to live in there?" Jace asked grumpily. Clary didn't reply, her jaw tensing. She unbuckled her seat belt and said her goodbyes to Isabelle before brushing past Jace to walk up to the driveway.
"Hey, Clary, stop." Jace jogged forward, and stood in front of her before abruptly pausing. Whatever thought he had before, it seemed to be overridden by looking Clary up and down. Her makeup still intact, even though her hair had nearly turned back to its tangled self, her dress lined her figure and her scars and bandages were covered. She looked at herself, and pulled a little at the skirt looking worriedly at the door. What would Luke think, her dress a clear reminder of her lies?
"You look…nice." Jace said and Clary was disarmed by this, she expected to get two people yelling at her, not Jace stumbling for words.
Clary bit at her manicured nail, "Is Luke really angry?"
Jace tilted his head at her, "You know Luke can get angry, but he's not, going to hurt you or anything." Clary could feel the awkwardness vibrating off of him, or maybe she was projected.
"I know." Clary answered quickly, but she could feel her body tensing, her stomach turning. "I'm going to go in, did you need something from me?" Clary asked wondering why Jace was waiting outside if it wasn't to rub in her face of how horrible of a person she was. Maybe he was going to do that, but her attire threw him off. It was weird to think she could have that effect on him, everything about Jace confused her. He was hardly consistent.
"Luke grabbed me when he was heading to Idris after Isabelle's call. I guess, I, just stuck around to see if you were really OK." Jace trailed off, his cheeks reddening a bit.
Clary looked startled at him, and nodded, "Ok, I'm fine." He looked her in the eye and Clary saw the worry shaking around in the depths of his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, and Clary could feel her whole face turning red. "I shouldn't let Luke wait any longer." She stammered. Jace looked away, "Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."
Clary looked at the house that seemed to loom in front of her. She walked up the steps to the entrance and entered Luke's house.
AN: Ok, I'm going to stop it there, because It's getting very long and if I headed into the next part, it would be entirely too long. As you can see, I've mixed Idris and New York together, because I hate coming up with names for places, haha. Sorry, for the late update – I had a really hard time writing this. I think I rewrote a different chapter every month. Hopefully now that I'm getting a little bit more into the plot, it'll be easier to write the next few chapters. Thank you all for reading and reviewing!