*Disclaimer: Characters and setting belong to Cassandra Clare.
Chapter 1
Clary's breath whistled out of her loudly as her back slammed into the wall yet again. She hissed. Isabelle and she were training in the Institute's training room, located in the attic. Izzy had thrown her into the wall, the mat, and once, even the ceiling. Never before had any of the Shadowhunters been that brutal to her. Normally they trained hard… but this was just too much.
"By the Angel, what is wrong with you?" Clary demanded angrily. She knew it was a hard time for Izzy, with her brothers Max and Alec being dead, and her adoptive brother being the murderer of the latter and she really shouldn't spite Isabelle, but Clary couldn't help it. Every night, she almost cried herself to sleep, but stopped herself, remembering that Jace hadn't cried since he was seven, after his falcon died. He had left her, but nonetheless, Clary still yearned for him. She didn't believe that she would ever be as cold and unfeeling as he, because her feelings for him would probably never be diminished. She was tired, emotionally and mentally drained, and now, her body was being used as Isabelle's personal punching bag.
"What's wrong with me?" the other girl exclaimed, indignant. "What's wrong is that I used to have three brothers and now I'm an only child. Is that good enough?"
"Jace is still your brother."
"He's as good as, if not worse, than dead."
"Look, I let you take out your frustrations on me," Clary said. "Did it ever occur to you that this isn't easy for me either?" Tears welled in her eyes again. Damn emotions, she mused. Clary had thought that she had already cried herself dry, but no, the tears were unrelentless. Her mom and Luke were in Idris, as were Izzy's parents.
"Clary, this is your fault! It's your fault Jace killed Alec and then left! It's your fault Dad got hurt on that ship in August! If it wasn't for you, Max wouldn't have died because Jonathon was after you! If you hadn't entered our lives, none of this would've happened!" By the end of Izzy's little rant, she too, was almost in tears.
Clary stared, her mouth gaping like a fish's. "My fault! Don't blame me for Jonathon; he was an evil bastard child that was on a mission from my power-hungry father! As for Max, you were the one in the house when he died! You were supposed to protect your little brother! Don't blame me for all of this! I found out I was one of the Nephilim three months ago!"
Isabelle's face paled until she didn't look white, she looked grey. Clary looked down, abashed. Just then, Izzy lunged at her, seraph blade outstreched. Clary whirled in a back roundhouse, her leg extending and kicking the seraph blade. She caught it neatly, by the hilt. By then, Isabelle had grabbed her guisarme and attacked. Blades clanged, in a series of parries and reposts. Coupé, attack. Sabre parry three, repost. Foil parry four, repost. Step lunge, foil parry five, beat attack. Beat two attack, sabre parry four, attack, feint, lunge. Sabre parry five, double beat attack, roundhouse kick. Isabelle feinted left with her weapon, then her fist swung out, knuckles connecting hard with Clary's stomach.
"Never say that again. Do you hear me?" When Clary didn't respond, the dark-haired girl grabbed a fistful of the fire-coloured hair, yanking, so Clary had to look her in the face. "Do you hear me?"
Clary spat in Izzy's face, then dove under her guard, grabbing her arm, and twisting it until the blade fell. Izzy landed a hard backhand to her face, before spinning around to attempt a uppercut. Instead, she kneed Izzy in the stomach, sending her flying into the middle of the room. Placing a knee on her chest, the two girls stared each other down, until Clary finally broke the silence. "I'm not some stupid mundie you can bully, Izzy. Not anymore." But Izzy didn't give in that easily. Kicking her legs up, and falling into a back roll, she stood, aiming a side kick to Clary's ribs. Ducking, she dodged it, before returning the blow with a high-lifting kick. Izzy caught her leg, and threw it higher into the air. Executing a back tuck, Clary landed in a shallow crouch. Deepening her crouch to a squat, she turned and once again, whipped out her left leg, catching the back of Izzy's knees. Just the way Jace had shown her, she reminisced. Izzy whispered something under her breath, but Clary ignored it.
Standing, Clary walked out without looking back, calling out "I won't be in touch." She awaited the arrival of the elevator, leaving Isabelle dazed. On the floor in the elevator, she gently traced iratzes over her wounds, and thinking about her sixteenth birthday. The elevator clanged, bringing her out of her memories of Jace. She stepped into the foyer, grabbed her messenger bag and donned her coat, before stepping out into the cold November weather of New York, her breath coming out in a white cloud. Flipping open her cell, she texted Simon, I need to talk to you. Though she showed no signs of it, Isabelle's parting words chilled her to the bone, leaving cold fingers trailing down her spine.
Like father, like daughter, Clarissa.
Please review. Next chapter will be from Jace's point of view. The attacks, strategies, parry positions, kicks are all legitimately from foil, sabre, or taekwondo. Yes, I have experience with all.